by Lynne Graham
Luca didn’t care where they were married as long as they were married. He only hoped Nonno would be well enough to be able to travel from his home in Tuscany, but, since Umbria was a neighbouring region, it wasn’t a long journey—just over two hours’ drive.
‘Fine. We’ll marry here. Leave the arrangements to me. I’ve already applied for a licence so we don’t have to wait the six weeks normally required. Your father sent me a copy of your birth certificate and passport before he died. I took the liberty of getting things on the move.’
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. ‘You were so sure I would accept? But you hadn’t even met me in person until yesterday.’
He shrugged one shoulder. ‘Your father showed me a photo and he talked about you a lot. I was satisfied you would be suitable.’
She uncrossed her legs and sprang off the sofa, moving some distance away. ‘I would have thought a man in your position wouldn’t have to resort to finding a mail-order bride.’ Scorn underlined every word she spoke. ‘What if I’d said no?’
Luca gave a slow smile. ‘I would have found some way to change your mind.’
Her chin came up and her eyes flashed. ‘I can’t believe my father encouraged you in this ridiculous mission to acquire a wife. When did you meet with him? I’ve never seen you come here before yesterday and I barely left my father’s side.’
‘I visited your father when he was in hospital with pneumonia late last year. He talked you up so much it intrigued me. I was disappointed not to see you on one of my visits but he said you weren’t keen on hospitals since the accident. We emailed or phoned after that.’
She bit her lip and looked away. ‘Did he say anything else about me?’
‘Just that you were shy and not much of a party girl.’
She gave a snort of humourless laughter. ‘Yes, well, that’s certainly true.’
Luca rose from the sofa and walked over to a row of picture frames on a sideboard. He picked up a photo taken when Artie was a child, sitting on her mother’s knee. ‘Your mother was very beautiful. She was English, sì?’
‘Y-yes…’ There was a slight catch in her voice.
Luca put the photo back on the sideboard and turned to face her. ‘It’s hard to lose a parent in your teens, especially the same sex parent.’ Harder still when you were the cause of their death. And the death of your only brother. The guilt never left him. It sat on his shoulder. It followed him. It prodded him. It never let him forget. It kept him awake at night. His own personal stalker, torturing him with the what-ifs and the if-onlys.
Her brown eyes met his. ‘You lost your father and older brother when you were a teenager, didn’t you?’
Luca knew there was still stuff about his father and brother’s death online. Not so easy to come across these days but it was still there if you did a thorough enough search. It had been a big news story at the time due to his father’s high profile in business circles.
He could still see the headlines now—Property developer CEO and son and heir lost in heavy surf in Argentina.
There had been nothing about Luca’s role in their drowning and he only found out years later it was because his nonno had pulled some strings in order to protect him.
Another reason his marriage to Artie had to go ahead and soon. He owed his nonno peace in this last stage of his life.
‘Yes. When I was thirteen.’ He stripped his voice of all emotion—he could have been discussing the stock exchange instead of the worst day of his life.
‘I’m sorry.’ Artie waited a beat and added, ‘Is your mother still alive?’
‘Yes. She lives in New York now.’
‘Has she remarried?’
‘No.’
There was a silence.
Luca could have filled it with all the reasons why his mother no longer lived in Italy. Her unrelenting grief. His strained relationship with her that nothing he said or did could fix. The constant triggers being around him caused her. The empty hole in her life that nothing could fill. The hole he had created by his actions on that fateful day. He hadn’t just lost his father and brother on that day—he’d lost his entire family as he’d known it. Even his grandparents—as caring and supportive as they tried to be—had been sideswiped by grief and became shadows of their former selves. His extended family—aunts, uncles, cousins—all of them had been affected by his actions that day.
‘So, what changed your mind about marrying me?’ Luca decided it was safer to stay on the topic of their upcoming marriage rather than drift into territory he wanted left well alone. ‘Let me guess. Was it the engagement ring?’
She swallowed, her cheeks blooming with colour. ‘In a way, yes.’
Luca hadn’t taken her for a gold-digger but it was a damn fine ring. His eyes flicked to her left hand. ‘It looks good on you. But I hope you don’t mind it being second hand. It belonged to my grandmother. She left it to me in her will.’
Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. ‘Your grandmother’s? Oh, my goodness. Just as well I—’ She bit her lip and shifted her gaze a fraction, the colour in her cheeks deepening.
‘Just as well you…?’ Luca prompted, intrigued by her cagey expression.
Her slim throat rose and fell over a swallow and her gaze slipped out of reach of his. ‘I—I misplaced it for a couple of hours. But it’s your fault for giving me such a ridiculously valuable ring. A priceless heirloom, for pity’s sake. What on earth were you thinking? Of course, I’ll give it back to you once the six months is up.’
‘I don’t want it back. It’s a gift.’
Her gaze flicked back to his, shock written all over her features. ‘I couldn’t possibly keep it. It’s worth a small fortune, not to mention the sentimental value.’
Luca shrugged. ‘It’s no skin off my nose what you do with it once our marriage is over. It’s just a ring. I will have no further use for it after this. It means nothing to me.’
Her mouth tightened. ‘Is there anything that means something to you other than making disgusting amounts of money?’
Luca slanted his mouth into a cynical smile. ‘There isn’t a law against being successful in business. Money opens a lot of doors.’
‘I would imagine it closes others. How would you know if people liked you for you or for your wealth?’
‘I’m a good judge of character. I soon weed out the timewasters and hangers-on.’
Her top lip curled and her eyes shone with loathing. ‘Well, bully for you.’
CHAPTER THREE
ARTIE WOULDN’T HAVE admitted it even under torture, but she was getting off on sparring with Luca Ferrantelli. Every time they exchanged words, little bubbles of excitement trickled into her bloodstream. He was intelligent and quick-witted and charming and she had to keep on her toes to keep up with him.
She couldn’t understand why he had given her his grandmother’s engagement ring. Eek! Just as well she hadn’t lost it. But he didn’t seem all that attached to the stunning piece of jewellery, and yet she had fallen in love with it at first sight. Surely he had at least one sentimental bone in his body, or was everything just another business deal?
Luca’s brief mention of his father and brother intrigued her. Mostly because he seemed reluctant to dwell on the subject. His expression had given little away, his flat, emotionless tone even less. But still, she sensed there was pain beneath the surface—deep pain that made him distance himself from it whenever he could.
Maybe Rosa was right—Luca Ferrantelli had more than a few layers to his personality that begged to be explored.
But Artie knew all too well about deep emotional pain. Talking about her mother, thinking about the accident and its aftermath sent her into a spiral of despair. Guilt was her constant companion. Wasn’t it her fault her father had lost control of his finances? He hadn’t been the same after the accident. Losing Artie’s m
other, and losing the use of his legs as well as an acquired brain injury, had meant he was not the same man—nor ever could be—and she was entirely to blame. Nothing Artie could do would ever change that. It was only fitting that she wed Luca Ferrantelli and reclaim her family’s heritage.
It was her penance. The price she must pay. But she would make the best out of the situation by owning her choice to marry Luca rather than feel he had forced her hand.
‘We need to discuss the honeymoon.’ Luca’s expression was inscrutable. ‘Do you have somewhere you’d like to go?’
Honeymoon?
Artie widened her eyes so far she thought they might pop right out of her head. She clasped her hand to her throat where her heart now seemed to be lodged. ‘A…a honeymoon? Whatever for? You said it’s going to be a marriage in name only. Why would we need to go on a honeymoon?’ Even saying the word ‘honeymoon’ made her body go all tingly and her heart race and her blood heat. Heat that stormed into her cheeks and simmered in other more secret places.
One of his dark eyebrows lifted at her stuttering protest, a satirical glint shining in his gaze. ‘I’m fine with a quiet wedding here at the castello but I insist on a honeymoon. It will give our marriage more credibility if we are seen to go away together for a short break.’
Seen? In public? Be in wide open spaces? Rushing crowds. Traffic. Noise. Busyness. Artie stumbled backwards, her arms wrapping around her body, her breathing tight and laboured. ‘No. I can’t do that. I don’t want to go. There’s no need. It’s not a proper marriage and it’s wrong of you to insist on it.’
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Luca frowned. ‘Are you worried I’ll take advantage of you? Please be assured that is not going to happen. I gave you my word.’
‘I don’t want to go anywhere with you,’ Artie said. ‘How could you think I would? I don’t even like you.’
His eyes dipped to her mouth then back to her gaze. ‘Artemisia, we need to be seen together in public. It’s not going to work unless we present as a normal couple. We’ll have to live together most, if not all, of the time.’
Her stomach turned over. ‘L-live together?’
‘But of course. Isn’t that what husbands and wives do?’
Artie gulped. Her skin prickled, her legs trembled, her mind raced. Live with Luca Ferrantelli? What would that entail? She couldn’t even leave her own home. How on earth would she move into his? Should she tell him about her social phobia? Would he understand? No. Not likely. Few people did. Even the professionals who had visited her at the castello had more or less given up on her.
Her gaze moved out of reach of his and she fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt for something to do with her hands. ‘I’m sorry, but couldn’t you move in here? I mean, this place is huge and you can have your own suite of rooms and we’d hardly have to see each other and no one would ever know we’re not—’
‘No.’ His tone was so adamant the word could have been underlined in thick black ink.
Artie swung away from him, trying to get her breathing back under control. She was light-headed and nauseous, her stomach churning fast enough to make butter. She was going to faint… No, she wasn’t. She was going to fight it. Fight him. She took a deep breath and turned around to face him. ‘I will not leave my home. Not for you. A marriage of convenience is supposed to be convenient for both parties. It’s not convenient for me to move right now. I’ve only just buried my father. I’d like more time to…to spend grieving out of the view of the public.’ It wasn’t completely a lie. She missed her father, not because they were particularly close but because looking after him had given structure and purpose to her life.
Luca studied her for a long moment, his expression giving nothing away. She tried not to squirm under his unnerving scrutiny but it was a mammoth effort and only added to her light-headedness. ‘All right. We’ll delay the honeymoon.’
Relief swept through her and she brushed back her hair from her face, her hand not quite as steady as she would have liked. ‘Thank you.’
She hadn’t been in a car since coming home from hospital after the accident. She hadn’t been in a plane or train or bus since she was fifteen. She hadn’t been around more than two or three people in a decade. Her life was contained within these four ancient stone walls and she couldn’t see it changing any time soon.
Luca closed the distance between them and held her gaze for another beat or two. ‘I realise your father’s financial situation has come as a shock to you. And I understand how resistant you are to my plan to turn things to your advantage. But I want my grandfather to see us married and living as a couple.’
‘Why is that so important to you?’
‘He’s got cancer but he won’t agree to treatment.’
‘Oh… I’m sorry.’
Luca ran a hand down his face, the sound of his palm scraping over his regrowth loud in the silence. ‘Unless he has treatment soon, he will die within a year. His dream has always been to see me settled down with a nice young woman. He disapproves of my casual approach to relationships and has been at pains to let me know at every opportunity. I want him to find a reason to live, knowing I’ve found a suitable bride.’
A suitable bride.
If only Luca knew how unsuitable she really was. Would he still want to marry her if he knew the truth about her? ‘Will your grandfather be well enough to come here for the wedding?’
‘I hope so.’
Artie bit her lip. She was conflicted about keeping her social anxiety from Luca but neither could she risk losing her home if he decided to withdraw his offer of marriage. She didn’t know him well enough to trust he would make allowances for her. He’d already told her he was a ruthless businessman who didn’t allow emotion to cloud his judgement. How could she hope he might be understanding and compassionate about her mental health issues? ‘But you only know me as my father presented me. I might be the worst person in the world.’
A lazy smile tilted his mouth and his eyes darkened. ‘I like what I’ve seen so far.’
Artie could feel colour pouring into her cheeks. Could feel a faint hollow ache building, beating between her thighs. Could feel a light tingling in her breasts. His gaze went to her mouth and she couldn’t stop herself from sweeping them with the tip of her tongue. His eyes followed the movement of her tongue and liquid warmth spread through her core like warmed treacle. What invisible chemistry was doing this to her? What potent force did Luca Ferrantelli have over her? She had never been so aware of another person. Never so aware of her own body. Her senses were on high alert, her pulse racing.
Suddenly he wasn’t standing a metre away but was close enough for her to smell the sharp, clean citrus notes of his aftershave. Had he moved or had she?
She looked into the depths of his gaze and her heart skipped a beat. And another. And another, until it felt like tiny racing footsteps were pounding against the membrane surrounding her heart.
He lifted his hand to her face, trailing his index finger down the slope of her cheek from just above her ear down to the base of her chin. Every nerve in her skin exploded with sensation. Every pore acutely sensitive to his faintest touch.
‘You are much more beautiful in person than in the photo your father showed me.’ Luca’s tone was a bone-melting blend of rough and smooth. Honey and gravel. Temptation and danger.
Artie couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth, drawn by a force as old as time. Male and female desire meeting. Wanting. Needing. Tempting. ‘I don’t get called Artemisia…most people call me Artie.’
Oh, for pity’s sake. Couldn’t you think of something a little more sophisticated to say?
Luca gave a crooked smile and something warm spread through her chest. ‘Artie. It’s cute. I like it. Artemisia, Queen of Halicarnassus. She was an ally of the Persian King Xerces in 430 BCE and reputedly brave in battle.’
Th
at’s me—brave. Not.
‘My mother chose it. She loved Greek history.’
His gaze became hooded and he glanced at her mouth again. ‘There will be times when we’ll be expected to show affection towards one another. Are you going to be okay with that?’
‘W-what sort of affection?’
‘Kissing. Holding hands. Touching.’
Her lower body began to throb with a strange kind of ache. She couldn’t stop herself thinking about places he might touch her—places that were already tingling in anticipation. How would she cope with a casual brush of his hand? His strong arm around her waist? His mouth pressed to hers? No one had ever touched her with a lover’s touch. No one had ever kissed her. The desire to be touched by him was overwhelming. Her body craved it like a drug.
‘Okay.’
Okay? Are you out of your mind?
Artie was out of her mind—with lust. She had never felt so out of control of her body. It was acting of its own volition, responding to him in ways she had never expected. She didn’t even like him. He was arrogant and confident in a way she found irritating. It was as if he expected her to throw herself at him just like any other woman he had encountered. How was she going to resist him if he kissed her? How would it feel to have that firm mouth moving against hers?
Luca continued to look at her with a heart-stopping intensity. ‘If you don’t want me to kiss you then you need to tell me, because right now I can think of nothing I want to do more.’ His voice lowered to a deep bass that sent another wave of heat coursing through her body.
‘What makes you think I want you to kiss me now? What would be the point? There’s no one here but us.’ Artie was proud of her calm and collected tone when inside her body was steaming, simmering, smouldering.
His thumb pressed lightly on the middle of her bottom lip, sending tingles down the length of her spine. ‘The way you’re looking at me.’
‘How am I looking at you?’
Eek. Was that her voice? She had to do something about her voice. None of that whispery, husky rubbish. She had to be brusque and matter-of-fact.
