Rebecca Winters - Whisked Away By Her Sicilian Boss

A small sound escaped her throat. “No. I’m embarrassed to tell you I’ve never cooked anything from start to finish in my life, although I spent a lot of time in the palazzo kitchen growing up. The cooks were kind to me and let me watch. I washed lettuce and sometimes they’d let me beat egg whites or stir the gravy. Once in a while they’d allow me to sift the flour into the cake bowl before it was baked.”

“Does that mean you didn’t learn to cook at boarding school?”

She laughed outright. “You have a strange idea of what goes on there.”

“Actually I do know, and was only teasing.” Despite the impossibility of what she’d said, the more they talked, the more he found himself enjoying her company. Too much in fact.

“I’m relieved to hear it, Cesare. To be honest, that boarding school in France happened so long ago I’ve forgotten. All I know is, I was waited on. When my parents enrolled me at the University of Paris, I had to live with them in an apartment in St. Germain des Pres. Would it reassure you to know that I told my maid I could make my own tea and instant coffee in the microwave?”

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