by Nina Singh
“I hope you have a good rest, Nonna,” Brianna said and managed another forced smile. It didn’t come easy.
* * *
“I was hoping I would catch you before running into the office today.” Marco approached the counter where Brianna stood pouring herself her first cup of coffee of the morning. She’d had a restless night, tossing and turning.
She turned to him with her mug to her lips. “You’re going in today? On a Saturday?”
He fixed a cuff link on his left wrist. He looked impeccable. In a steel-gray tailored suit and sky-blue tie, Marco was every inch the successful business tycoon. “I’ve got some sales meetings with consultants flying in from all over Europe. This was the only date that worked.”
She couldn’t resist reaching up and straightening his tie clip, though it was nowhere near askew enough that anyone else would probably have even noticed. Standing next to him, in her rumpled flannel robe with her hair all tangled, she must have looked like the lowly peasant standing next to the regal prince.
Why couldn’t she be one of those women who went to bed in silk flimsy nighties with matching covers?
Brianna blinked away the thought. “What did you want to see me about?”
Marco reached behind her for a cup but he turned to the silver carafe which held fresh brewed espresso. How he and Nonna could drink such harsh brew first thing was a mystery to her. He started to drink it straight.
“Leo reminded me of the regatta happening next week.”
“The one you had to miss last year?” He’d had to miss it because Enzo had come down with an ear infection and the resulting temperature readings had alarmed them both. Marco hadn’t attended the year before either, that time due to Enzo’s recent arrival.
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“What about it?”
He set his cup down on the counter. “Why don’t you come with me? We can make a trip of it.”
She hadn’t seen that offer coming. “Won’t you be racing?”
“Yes. But it’s so much more than just a race. There’ll be festival activities. Not to mention some of the best Italian cuisine this side of the country.”
“It sounds amazing.”
“It is. Every port along the fifteen-mile coast of the race has something special to partake in. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“What about Enzo?”
He tapped her nose playfully. “I have a full staff here. Not to mention, he has a very capable Nonna at his very disposal.”
Brianna mulled it over. She’d never been on so much as a harbor cruise let alone on an actual sailing expedition.
And this was a big part of Marco’s life. He’d always been an avid boater. Here he was, asking her to share that part of him. She’d be hard pressed to turn it down.
“He has been sleeping through the night since we got here.” She glanced toward the ceiling in the direction of her son’s bedroom. In fact, he was still asleep at the moment. “I would hate to do anything to set him back though.”
“Why don’t you think about it?” he told her, clearly dismissing the subject. “I take it you’ll be working on some more recipes today?” A small spark of disappointment settled in her chest. He obviously wasn’t terribly invested in the idea of her accompanying him given the way he was ready to change the topic.
She nodded. “Yes, I have some more ideas about what other ingredients I might add to that last dish.”
“Excellent. I’ll be very late tonight.” He grabbed his case off the ground and walked out of the kitchen. Moments later, Brianna heard the roar of his engine. There was no question she wouldn’t be seeing him again today. Not with the workday he’d just described.
She wanted to kick herself. Why had she even hesitated rather than simply accepting his invitation?
What if he didn’t ask again?
* * *
Marco gripped the steering wheel of his late-model Lamborghini and slowly pulled down the mansion’s long, winding driveway.
She needed to think about it. About whether she wanted to accompany him to the regatta. The notion was somewhat demoralizing. His own wife needed to consider before agreeing to a week spent sailing along the coast with him.
They’d never done such a thing before. In fact, they hadn’t even gone on a proper honeymoon. There hadn’t been time or opportunity given the pregnancy and complications. The regatta would give them an opportunity to finally spend some time together. Alone. Maybe even get to know each other a bit better.
But Brianna hadn’t jumped at the prospect. She had a solid reason, her concern about being away from Enzo. Marco knew he was being silly. Downright immature. What was it about his own wife that brought out that unflattering side of him? He just couldn’t help but feel somewhat slighted that she hadn’t seemed more...well, excited about the whole prospect.
He turned onto the road and tried to focus on the day that was ahead. The meetings before him were way too important to let his focus scatter in any way.
She hadn’t said no. He supposed he should be happy for that much at least.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MARCO WASN’T USED to waiting. Particularly not having to wait for Brianna. The woman had always been prompt and timely since he’d met her. For some reason, she was taking an annoyingly long time this morning.
But then she stepped out into the sunshine and he couldn’t think at all. He could barely breathe. In a light, flowy sundress that hung on her curves with precision, she looked like a Roman princess.
And her hair. She’d done something differently; her curls were tamer, secured at the base of her neck with a few soft tendrils framing her face.
Correction, she looked like a Roman goddess.
All in all, what she wore appeared to be a very reasonable, even sensible uniform for a day of intense sailing. But for some reason it looked far from that. In fact, it was knocking the sense right out of him.
“Is something wrong?” Her voice shook as she asked the question. He’d been blatantly staring at her.
He could only manage to clear his throat.
“I could go change if this isn’t appropriate,” she added, again with hesitation in her tone and rubbing her hands down her sides.
“Don’t you dare.”
She blinked at him, confusion etched in her features.
“I mean, that’s perfect. What you have on will work great.”
Relief flooded her face. “Thanks. Nonna helped me pick it out.”
He made a mental note to thank Nonna profusely as soon as they got back home from this trip.
“I’ve never done anything like this before. I wasn’t quite sure what to pick out,” she added.
Marco felt guilty at that comment. “I must apologize for that. I should have found a way to get you on the boat.”
She stepped up to him, placed her palm against his chest. “Oh, no. Don’t apologize. I was in no mood to go sailing when we first arrived in Italy. And once Enzo was born, there was hardly time to eat or sleep, let alone do anything leisurely.”
Her words served to lighten his guilt somewhat. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he’d really wanted to, he would have figured out a way to take her. He would have found a way to share that part of his life with her. Among other things.
He guided her to the passenger seat of the sports car. Then he threw their bags in the back.
“We’ll be at the marina in just a few minutes,” he told her as they headed off. In no time, they were driving along the coast and traffic increased exponentially. The race always drew a great amount of people to the area. Observers as well as other sailors.
They reached the entrance to the marina and seemingly had to wait an exorbitant amount of time before being able to park. Once they did, it was a small walk to the Dirici slip.
Marco guided Bri
anna onboard while a porter carried and deposited their bags. Despite the strange circumstances surrounding this trip—an attempt to get to know better a woman he was already married to—he finally, slowly felt himself begin to relax. Being on deck with the sunshine, the refreshing breeze, and anticipatory hum in the air before a big race had the usual effect of settling his soul.
Brianna for her part appeared in awe. “This is what you called your small sailing boat?”
“Do you like it?”
Brianna ran a hand along the rail. “It’s gorgeous. And it’s hardly a sailboat. It’s more like a yacht!”
Marco felt an almost giddy satisfaction that his craft had impressed her so. How childish and silly was that?
“Not really. Just a fifty-foot sailboat with an inboard engine. Serves me fine. I’ve had it for several years.” He hadn’t had time to do much on it for the past couple of years though. He found he was very much looking forward to the competition tomorrow.
He’d never actually stopped to think about exactly how much had changed in his life during such a short span.
Marco motioned for Brianna to follow him below deck. “Here, I’ll show you the living quarters.”
When they got below, Brianna’s jaw seemed to drop even lower. “This is almost a mini apartment.”
He laughed. “Well, the tour won’t take long.” He pointed straight in front of him. “Kitchen, bed, and the bathroom is to your left.”
Was it his imagination, or had Brianna’s eyes lingered on the bed for just an instant before looking away? He found himself focused on it as well, his mind wandering to what the night would entail as they shared it.
He turned before his body could react any further. Taking Brianna by the elbow, he led her to the mini fridge. “Can I get you something to drink? There’s chilled wine, soda. Or water if you prefer.”
“I don’t dare have wine on an empty stomach.” She clapped her hands. “Oh, that reminds me. I made some sandwiches for us. They’re in an insulated bag in my luggage. Would you care for one now?”
As thoughtful as that was, this regatta was just as much about the food as it was the actual race. He should have been clearer. “You didn’t need to trouble yourself. There’ll be food and drinks at every stop.”
Her smile deflated before he spoke the last word and Marco wanted to kick himself. He should have just eaten whatever she’d prepared. But they had plans at the very next stop for a meal. Again, something he should have shared with her much sooner.
“I just thought we might get hungry before...”
“No, as I said it was a very kind and thoughtful gesture. But I didn’t get a chance to mention that we have plans to eat at the next stop.”
“We do?”
He nodded. “Some friends are meeting us. We’ll be getting there just in time for an early evening dinner. I apologize for not telling you sooner.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “Don’t be silly. I’m a chef, eating at new establishments is a thrill for me.”
Her words didn’t seem to match her tone. He detected a subtle yet clear hint of disappointment.
“You know, I think I am kind of hungry,” he lied. “I’ll have a quick bite after all. It will be close to an hour before we eat, now that I think about it.”
He moved to go retrieve her bag with the sandwiches when she stopped him. “Uh-uh. No way. As a professional, I will not let you spoil your appetite before a five-star restaurant meal.”
“No, really—” he began to protest.
“It’s okay, Marco. We’ll just save the sandwiches for another time. I’m just going to freshen up.” She turned without another word and stepped into bathroom.
Such a silly misunderstanding, Marco thought, watching her retreat.
He would make it up to her somehow. He refused to let something as trivial as uneaten sandwiches mar this trip before it had even started.
* * *
She was so clueless.
Brianna rummaged in her bag for her lip gloss in the small stately bathroom of Marco’s boat. What a simpleton. She’d made sandwiches. Like they were going off on some picnic. A true fish out of water, Brianna Stedman was. Her last name might be Dirici now but in her bones she was still southern New Jersey. Girls like her didn’t realize that sailboats could be this large or have living quarters this luxurious. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but it certainly hadn’t been anything this elaborate.
The earth moved under her feet. Brianna grabbed the edge of the sink to steady herself. They must be departing.
She’d spent so much time picking out exactly what to wear, so much time on getting her hair just right. At least all that effort seemed to have paid off. Marco looked appreciative when he’d first laid eyes on her earlier today. In fact, the look he’d given her had sent heat curling through her stomach.
She just wished she was a bit more worldly. Heavens, she’d never even been on a boat before. Unless you counted paddleboarding on the Jersey shore. This was a large part of Marco’s life. She wanted to understand it more. She wanted to be part of it. But it was completely alien to her.
She would have to shape up. And she would have to do it quickly. They were to meet people in a few short moments. And she didn’t want to give the impression that she didn’t know what she was doing or how to behave.
Marco’s friends would be cut from the same elite cloth that he was. European upper class.
She studied her face in the mirror and almost had to laugh. How had she ended up here? She was in Italy on the Amalfi coast with her billionaire husband on his yacht before a race.
No, not a race. A regatta.
If someone had suggested such a thing to the young adult she was a few short years ago she would have laughed in their face. Actually, she would have been too tired to laugh, between long hours at culinary school and putting herself through it by working odd, low-paying jobs.
Her present predicament was certainly a far cry from where that young lady had been. She’d ended up in a completely different universe without even really knowing how it had happened. At first she’d simply been too focused on her new baby boy to really acknowledge all the changes that were happening to her life. But there was no denying, Brianna Stedman was a totally different person in a totally different world.
The few short years in between felt like they could have been an entire lifetime.
So how come the reflection staring back at her now from the mirror taunted that nothing about her had really changed at all?
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHE COULDN’T ALLOW herself to be sick.
Brianna leaned over the rail and stared at the water below. They were about half a mile from the coast from what she could tell, traveling at a steady speed. The blue green of the sea was broken by white-capped foam where the boat’s hull met the water.
Every once in a while she caught Marco’s eye as he stood steering at the helm. She gave him a tentative smile and gripped the railing tighter. Her legs felt wobbly but she didn’t dare sit. She didn’t dare move. Her stomach insisted on doing queasy flips. Her throat burned with acidic bile. This was so much worse than any bout of morning sickness she could remember. And this wasn’t even the race yet, they were simply cruising to their first destination.
So this was what seasickness felt like. As if Brianna needed any more proof that she was utterly out of her element.
Marco appeared oblivious to her discomfort. Hopefully, she’d be able to keep it that way. With any luck, it would all go away once she got something solid in her stomach. Though the thought of food immediately made her stomach go from a minor flip to an all-out heave.
She gripped the steel rail so tight her knuckles turned white. What had she been thinking? She could be back at the mansion right now, rocking her little boy to sleep with her feet on solid ground.
What seemed like an eternity later, Marco seemed to pull in toward land and maneuver around several other crafts. Brianna closed her eyes and willed her body to behave. She heard the engine shut off finally and then Marco’s footsteps approaching behind her.
That had to have been the longest hour of her life.
“We’re here.”
She turned to face him and was struck momentarily by his wide grin. His cheeks glowed a healthy red, a bright twinkle in his eyes. Unlike her, he’d apparently enjoyed every minute of their ride.
“The coastline looked beautiful,” she managed to mutter.
His brow suddenly furrowed and the grin disappeared into a tight frown. “Are you all right?” he asked with concern. “You’re looking a little pale.”
She forced her mouth into a smile. “I’m fine. Must have been the wind blowing in my face.”
Marco hesitated and studied her some more. Brianna bit the inside of her cheek to keep from gagging. Hard.
“Are you sure? You’re not seasick, are you?”
She made herself shake her head, the effort resulting in a nasty pounding in her temple. At least morning sickness had never involved headaches.
“No, not at all.” What a talent she had that she’d never known about! Being able to lie so blatantly even while feeling this miserable. “Shall we go then? Meet these friends of yours?” Holding on to Marco’s arm, she made her feet move. If he noticed how tight her grip was, he didn’t let on.
Stepping on dry land only offered minimal comfort. The marina was crowded and noisy. Someone was playing Italian opera at a high decibel from a nearby speaker. A group of teen girls jostled her as they rushed by. Brianna found herself shoved close to Marco’s side and for a horrifying moment she thought she might lose her control and be sick over his arm.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself.
“There they are,” Marco said above her ear.
Brianna looked up to see a group of well-heeled people about twenty feet away, right by the water. They sat around a metal table at some sort of outdoor café; two opened bottles of wine seemed to have been casualties already. Three women and two men. A laughing Leo sat right at the center, sipping from a long-stemmed glass. Brianna felt a small hint of relief. At least there was one familiar face amongst them.
