Page 21 of Duke for the Summer

Not that it was his job, or even his business, to unlock Jacopo’s secrets. But the curiosity was killing him.

Gracie drained her glass. “He and I have never been close.Not like it was with Mirabella–she was his favorite, I think. But they barely talk anymore, either. He got a lot more distant after Papà’s accident, and now we hardly see him.”

“What happened?” Nate asked.

“I think Papà had–something with his heart.” She frowned. “I was just a kid. The last duke had died a little while before, and Papà was convinced we would find a relative soon, through the DNA. So he was working very hard to keep the castle up-to-date. He went up there every day, remodeling, and that’s when it happened. He wouldn’t go to the hospital. But you can see that his face is–” she indicated her own left eye and cheek. “Not right. And he doesn’t walk very well anymore. And of course he will not talk about it or admit that he was sick, just calling it anaccident, because he doesn’t want to seem weak even now, typical stupid man.” She let out a long sigh and reached for the bottle, pouring herself a hefty slug of wine. “No offense.”

“I’m so sorry, Gracie.”

She shrugged. “Vabbè. It’s been this way for most of my life. But I think it’s why they don’t get along. Jacopo was off at university, and Papà always says if he had taken over the care of the castle earlier, if he hadn’t been gone, then Papà wouldn’t have been pushing himself so hard and–”

She paused, looking at the window. The whine of a motor. Jacopo’s vespa was coming up the hill. “I should let you rest,” Gracie said, standing up. “I don’t need to bother you with all this gossip. I’ll wash the wine glasses before I go.”

8.

They fell into a routine during the next few days. Nate would listen to music on his phone and type up Jacopo’s notes, and Jacopo would work at the table. Nate learned more about Lady Giulia and her son, Sebastiano, who was definitely banging Augusto and probably one of the chambermaids, too. He learned more about Jacopo: the way he sounded out words to himself silently as he read, a scowl on his face. The studious care he took of all his potted plants. The way he sweet-talked the courtyard cats in Italian when he thought no one was watching.

The orange patriarch of the colony, Pennywise–named after the clown and not the band–was a giant cat with a head like a cinderblock and a rusty meow. Once Nate’s knee had reduced in size enough that he could hobble around the apartment, he insisted on helping Jacopo with the nightly feedings, and after a lavish amount of sardines and compliments, Pennywise finally allowed Nate to pet him. After that, it was easier to get to know the others. A noodly little gray one called Gnocchi was Nate’s favorite, and it would headbutt his shins for attention when they sat outside drinking wine, as the evening haze cleared and the stars came out in the deep velvet sky, breathing in the smell of oaks and eucalyptus and the sea.

Nate tried to help out in other ways, too. He felt guilty being waited on, and he probably could have just gone back to sleeping in the castle at this point. The company was nice, though, so as long as Jacopo let him stay, he was going to ride it out.

“But you really don’t have to do everything for me,” heinsisted, as Jacopo once again started dicing vegetables for their dinner, having turned down Nate’s offers to help him cook.

“You still need to stay off your feet.”

“I can chop tomatoes at least.”

Jacopo made a skeptical noise, rinsing a zucchini off at the sink. There was a dish towel tucked in his back pocket, and his sleeves were rolled up, his forearms tan and covered in wiry hair. Nate’s hands would fit perfectly on his slim hips, and Nate pushed away a fantasy of cuddling up to him from behind, pressing his face against the nape of his neck.

“I can sit at the table and chop tomatoes,” Nate amended. “That way I’ll be off my feet.”

“If you really want to,” said Jacopo. But he seemed to regret it a few minutes later, when he leaned over the table to check Nate’s progress.

“Nate.” He poked a mangled tomato slice with one finger. “What did you do?”

“It doesn’t matter, right? They’re going into a sauce.”

“There’s a way to–” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Do you cook often?”

“Not really, no,” Nate admitted. He felt himself wilting under Jacopo’s gaze. “In Eugene, I kind of lived on hot pockets and protein powder and green juice.”

“Green juice? Nate. Just–let me do the cooking, okay?”

“I want to help you. I hate feeling useless.”

“You’re not useless.” Jacopo put a hand on his shoulder, and Nate pressed into it like one of the cats, surprised at being touched. “You can open the wine. And talk to me while I cook.”

Nate watched him re-chop the tomatoes and dump them into the sautee pan. The kitchen was fragrant with the smells of garlic and olive oil. “You know, when I first got here, I thought it was your mom leaving all the food in the fridge for me,” he said, uncorking a bottle of Pinot Grigio. “I didn’t realize you weresuch a good cook.”

“She taught me,” Jacopo said. “She’s from the north, and it was important for her that her children know all the local recipes as well as the recipes of her own mother back home. She spent years studying with Zia Grazia, perfecting her arancini.”

“You’re a lot like her, I think,” Nate said. “And like Gracie. You all love learning.”

Jacopo’s shoulders stiffened, and he took the pan off the heat noisily. “No. I’m very different from them.”

Nate swallowed, drawing little circles in the condensation on his wine glass. He changed the subject. “Do you remember the last duke very much? I wonder if I’m like him.”

“I never spend much time around him. He died when I was seventeen,” Jacopo said, setting a plate down in front of him. Nate had never known fresh vegetables could smell so good, before moving here. His mouth started watering immediately. “He really only came into town during festivals. And he was at the church sometimes, for Christmas and Easter. But he was–nice, I suppose? Maybe a little bit scary, because he was so old and he lived up here all alone.”

---