The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

by Scarlet Wilson

  “It’s just...”

  “Phoebe, I don’t have time for this.” He couldn’t hide his frustration. Timing was everything. February was a crucial time for his business. He couldn’t be distracted. He needed to deal with the house in Rome now. “I was clear. I offered you a quarter of a million dollars to dress two houses for me. One in the Hamptons. One in Rome. You agreed.” He shrugged. “I don’t take kindly to people who renege on business agreements. There are...consequences.”

  She blinked and he could see her brain trying to interpret those words. “You mean if I don’t come to Rome, you won’t pay me?” The shock on her face was clear.

  “We had a deal, Phoebe. You keep your end of the bargain. I keep mine. I like to deal with professionals. I thought that’s what you were.” His eyes swept up and down her. Taking in the yellow dress and nude heels. “Maybe I was wrong.”

  Her words were strained. Her jaw clenched. “I am a professional. My job here proves it. This house will sell easily.”

  He walked straight over to her. Closer than he intended. He could see every inch of her smooth clear skin. The mascara outlining her long dark lashes. The hint of red on her lips. Her very kissable lips. “Your professionalism is proved once you complete the job.”

  He met her dark gaze. He couldn’t read what was going on in those strong brown eyes. Phoebe’s eyes had always flashed a multitude of emotions. Today? It was almost as if a set of shutters had closed across them. They were angry. Detached.

  She tilted her chin up toward him. He could see the tiny pulse at the base of her throat. “What time do you need me?”

  “I’ll have a car pick you up at 6:00 p.m.”

  “Fine.” She turned on her heel, her yellow dress swirling around her knees, as she walked out of the room.

  Chapter Six

  SHE HADN’T EVEN met his gaze since she’d climbed in the car.

  Pride and terror wouldn’t let her. But as the car had got closer and closer to the airport she could almost hear the tattoo of her heartbeat against her chest.

  The worst thing had been her mother. When she’d told her she was going to Rome to do a job, her mother’s eyes had filled with tears and she’d cupped Phoebe’s face and told her how proud she was of her. And how it was time.

  All the words of fear and anxiety that had been ready to spill out of her mouth had halted instantly. Her mother was feeling well. Her treatments were finished and she was under instruction to rest for the next month. Phoebe couldn’t use her mother’s illness as an excuse not to go. Her mother would never forgive her.

  Matteo’s secretary had contacted Phoebe for her passport number and checked them both in online. As soon as they’d stepped out of the car the noise of the airport had overwhelmed her. The constant whoosh of planes taking off and landing. The chatter of people arriving or leaving. The thumping of cases. The toot of taxis.

  It was like a roaring in her ears.

  Matteo, of course, seemed oblivious. He steered her to the priority security line and then in the direction of the first-class lounge. First class. They were flying first class. Of course they were.

  She’d never been in a first-class lounge before. It was luxurious and open, but bright and friendly with decadent décor and dramatic lighting. The seats were comfortable and the service impeccable.

  But the lounge had a mezzanine level with views across the airport. If she was sitting down, the bottom half of the glass was smoked. But when she stood up...she could see all the planes sitting at their gates, with others taxiing to and from the runways.

  Which was why her heart was currently in her mouth. She took another gulp of the champagne that was sitting next to her.

  It was ridiculous. It was irrational. And she knew all that.

  Over the course of her life she’d been on dozens of flights. But ever since Jason had died, just the glimpse of a plane made her uncomfortable.

  Right now, her skin was itching, her breath catching somewhere in her throat and her heart racing inside her chest.

  She stood up and made a grab for her bag. “Excuse me.”

  With her head fixed firmly on the wall adorned with bright prints she made her way to the ladies’ room.

  The bright lights and white tiles were a relief. Phoebe splashed some water on her face and took some deep breaths. They’d be due to board any minute now. She fumbled in her bag.

  Phoebe stared at the pills in her hand. She’d never taken anything like this before.

  Never had to. Never wanted to.

  But, after verging on a panic attack at the thought of boarding a plane, she’d gone to see her doctor first thing in the morning. She’d been sympathetic, and talked Phoebe through all the irrational fears she had. She’d wanted to try other methods, other therapies, but Phoebe had told her the urgency of the trip and how much depended on it.

  So, she’d given her some breathing exercises. A few methods of control, and, as a last resort, the chance to take something that could reduce her anxiety.

  There was nothing shameful in taking a few tablets. Lots of people had problems flying. Once the flight had taken off, she could try and sleep. And once they were due to land again, she could take another.

  It was a temporary measure. She looked at her own reflection in the mirror. Life with Jason had been easy, relaxed. He’d been her best friend.

  But New Year’s Eve with Matteo had been entirely different. The fireworks hadn’t just been exploding outside the room. And that connection had been terrifying. Not least, because there seemed to be so much that Matteo was hiding.

  She splashed more water. Three years. Three years since Jason was gone. He wouldn’t recognize the wide-eyed, terrified girl in the mirror right now. Her hand went to her throat as she held back a sob. And he would hate the fact that she was now petrified of the thing that he loved. The thing that had practically flowed through his veins.

  She took a deep breath and shoved the tablets back in her bag. She tried a few of the breathing exercises her doctor had shown her. She could do this. She could do it. She could get on this plane and land in Rome. Yesterday had been key. She’d gone home to the final bill for her mother’s medical expenses. She needed this money. She needed to be paid. This job would lift a huge weight off the shoulders of both herself and her mother. The last thing she wanted was for her mother to be stressed about paying for her treatment. Stress could impede her full recovery and Phoebe would never let that happen.

  She walked outside. Matteo was pacing outside the door impatiently. “Are you ready? It’s time to board.”

  Phoebe gulped. The sooner this was over—the better.

  * * *

  What was wrong with her? She’d checked her seat belt a dozen times and had her eyes fixed firmly on the screen in front of her. Her endless fidgeting was driving him nuts. Phoebe had never struck him as a fidget.

  “Miss? Can I get you a drink prior to departure?” The stewardess had a trolley filled with fine wines, champagnes and spirits. Phoebe glanced in the direction of the trolley for a few seconds, then shook her head. “No. No, thank you.”

  Her hands twisted in her lap again as the stewardess moved away and a few minutes later the plane started taxiing. Phoebe leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, her hands gripping the seat rests so tightly her knuckles were white.

  A strange feeling washed over Matteo. She’d objected quite strongly to the trip to Rome. “Phoebe, are you scared of flying? Haven’t you ever flown before?”

  She didn’t even open her eyes, or release her grip. There was a tic at the side of her jaw as she spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ve flown lots of times. Just not recently.”

  “And are you always like this when you fly?”

  He was astonished. She generally seemed quite relaxed and happy. This was a whole other side of her. The plane started to pick up speed f
or take-off. As the nose lifted her hand stopped gripping the seat rest and grabbed his hand, squeezing so tightly he lost all feeling in his fingers.

  Matteo leaned back in his seat and said nothing. It seemed Phoebe’s grip was stronger than expected. After a few minutes he put his other hand over hers. “Phoebe, you okay? Want to talk?”

  Now he was feeling guilty. He’d given her an ultimatum. He’d forced her to come on this trip. He’d been so blindsided by getting the houses finished and on the market that he hadn’t really considered anything else.

  Phoebe started doing some breathing exercises. In. Out. In. Out. He felt himself breathe along with her. Now he knew why she’d been so tetchy. He should have considered something like this.

  “Take it easy, Phoebe. We’re up. Safe take-off. You can relax.”

  She opened her eyes, and he was surprised to see they were wet with tears. “I won’t relax until we’re back on the ground.”

  “You’re that scared of flying? Why didn’t you say?”

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I couldn’t. It’s new. Well, not that new.”

  He rubbed her hand again. “At some point I’m going to have to regain the feeling in my fingers. I might need them.” He gave her a gentle smile. “What happened that you feel like this?” He knew he was prying. He knew this was none of his business. But he hated seeing Phoebe like this.

  Her grip loosened just a little on his hand, but she didn’t pull it away. “Sorry,” she breathed, then stayed quiet for a few minutes. After a bit she licked her lips and met his gaze. “I had a fiancé. Jason. He was a pilot. He died in a flying accident three years ago.”

  It was like being punched in the guts. A fiancé?

  “I’m sorry, Phoebe. I had no idea.” He couldn’t help the next words. “What happened?”

  She blinked. Her voice was a little shaky. “Engine failure. Double engine failure. Something that shouldn’t happen. Jason tried to land the plane. He had to divert it away from a built-up area and ended up crashing in woods.” She gave her head a shake. “I’ve just had a thing about flying since then.” She took a deep breath. “I had a funeral to go to last year—an old school friend. I’d bought a plane ticket but just couldn’t do it. I ended up driving the four and a half hours to Washington instead of taking the hour-long flight.”

  “Is this the first flight you’ve been on?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. Matteo hadn’t let go of her hand yet. He gave it another squeeze. “You should have told me.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I tried to say no. You didn’t like that.”

  He sighed. “I thought you were just reneging on the deal. I didn’t know there was something else going on. If you’d told me, I would have acted differently.”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course I would.” He waited a few seconds then added, “But I’m really glad you’re here. Just wait. It will be worth it. The first time you do anything again is always the hardest.”

  She frowned as she looked at him, almost as if she were connecting the words with something else, then she gave him a soft smile and nodded. “You could be right.”

  He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I promise you, you’ll love Rome, and you’ll love the house.”

  “I hope so,” she said, as she leaned back in her chair and finally pulled her hand away.

  Matteo stared down at his hand.

  All of a sudden it surprised him how empty his hand felt.

  He glanced sideways. Phoebe had been engaged. She’d had a fiancé.

  He couldn’t help but be curious about the man that had captured Phoebe Gates’s heart.

  He just couldn’t figure out why it made him so uncomfortable.

  * * *

  The plane gave a jolt and Phoebe felt a tear escape down her cheek. She couldn’t breathe. Was it engine failure? What if she never saw her mother again?

  Matteo’s hand closed over hers again. “Grip as hard as you like. It’s just a little bit of turbulence. I can take it.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m here with you, Phoebe. We’ll get through this.”

  His green eyes were warm and sincere. She couldn’t help the second tear that slid down her cheek. Matteo reached up with his free hand and gently brushed it away. “Tell me about Jason,” he said. “Tell me what he was like.”

  The breath that was caught in the back of her throat came out steadily. “He...he was good,” she murmured. “He was great.” It was odd to talk about Jason with someone that had never known him. Her brain tried to sort out her jumbled thoughts. “He was a couple of years older than me. We met in Central Park when I was nineteen. He was already in the navy, training as a pilot.” She nodded. “He loved his job, completely loved it. Flying was a huge part of his life.”

  “And you?”

  Matteo’s finger started tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand. “Oh, he loved me too. Just as much as I loved him.” Her voice stuttered a little as a memory swamped her. But it was a good memory, something that made her happy. “He used to make me laugh. He used to make me laugh so hard my sides hurt.” She shook her head. “And he shared my sci-fi addiction. Any film, any TV series that was remotely sci-fi was always playing in the background. It didn’t matter how bad it was.” She smiled. “We watched it anyway.”

  She was aware of the gentle movements of his finger. She knew he was trying to distract her. Trying to keep her calm. But somehow, in the midst of all this, talking about Jason felt good.

  “He’d left the navy and had just got a job as a commercial pilot. We were trying to make plans. Get our lives on track for the future.” Her voice drifted off.

  Matteo didn’t jump in. He didn’t push her for more. He just kept doing what he was doing, watching her with those dark green eyes with tiny flecks of gold. “He sounds like a great guy.”

  She nodded. “He was. And he was big.” She shook her head. “We looked like the odd couple.” She held up one hand. “I’m not exactly in the tall department and Jason was six foot six.” She raised her eyebrows. “It certainly came in handy when I had any clients I felt uncomfortable around. One look from Jason was enough.”

  The air hostess bumped past them with the drinks trolley. It seemed the turbulence had ended and the “fasten seat belt” sign was off now.

  It was nice. It was nice to talk about Jason and remember him. Remember how much she loved him and the part he’d played in her life. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “What for?”

  She stared down at their hands. “For this. For distracting me. For letting me talk. For letting me remember.”

  “Don’t you talk about Jason?”

  She gave him a sad smile. “Sometimes with my mom. But I think she worries it makes me sad. What I worry about is forgetting. I feel guilty.”

  Matteo pressed his lips together for a second. His voice was husky. “Remembering is good. We’ll never be able to remember every detail.” He put one hand on his heart, while using the other to intertwine his fingers with hers, “But what we hold in here is really important. Anyone we lose, we carry them with us every day. In our hearts and in our minds. That’s what’s important.”

  There was something about the way he said the words that made her heart give a little flip. He understood. He got it.

  And all of a sudden so did she. She’d loved Jason for so long. She always would. She shouldn’t be scared of forgetting him—that wouldn’t happen. But that didn’t mean that once she was ready, she wouldn’t be able to open her heart to someone else.

  She shouldn’t feel guilt. Jason would have hated that. She nodded at Matteo as her heart gave another little pitter-patter against her chest.

  “You’re right,” she said quietly. “That’s exactly what’s important.”

  * * *

  The heat levels
in Rome were mild. But compared to the chill of New York, it was practically balmy.

  After their connection on the plane, Matteo seemed more relaxed in Rome; he spoke his native language fluently and she almost laughed out loud at the gestures he used when chatting to others. In New York, he was so much more reserved.

  She was tired. She’d only managed a few hours’ sleep on the flight over the Atlantic and the bright morning light of Rome felt harsh on her eyes. But Matteo had assured her that the family home in Rome was much more habitable than the one in the Hamptons, and the interior design work would be much less intense.

  The car passed through Rome, giving Phoebe a few glimpses of some of the wonders. She couldn’t help but smile. “First time in Rome?” asked Matteo.

  “First time in Italy,” she breathed. “I’ve always wanted to come here.”

  Matteo gave a small nod. “We’ll need to try and see if we can fit in some sightseeing.”

  “Really?” She hadn’t expected that from him, and when he gave another nod she settled back into the soft leather seats and took a deep breath. Rome. Wonderful.

  The car pulled onto a long winding road set on a hill. After a few minutes a sixteenth-century-style house appeared in front of her with panoramic views over Rome, the sea and Tivoli.

  “How beautiful,” sighed Phoebe as the driver stopped the car and came around to open the door for her.

  Matteo opened the front door to the house and gave her a smile as they stepped onto the red-tiled floor. He waited a few seconds as she let out a gasp.

  He gave a nod of acknowledgement. “The villa contains within its walls works of art by masters of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The galleries and lounges all have late baroque and rococo frescoed ceilings. I think you’ll like all the features—the oval staircase, the trompe l’oeil, the wood paneling and the parquet.”

  Even though she was tired from the flight the sight of the magnificent villa was enough to kick-start her again. Matteo did a walk through, showing her the five elegant state rooms and thirteen bedrooms. “This place is wonderful,” she said as she clasped her hands to her chest. “Why on earth would your family want to sell it?”