Her smile spread from ear to ear. She looked relaxed. She looked happy. Something struck him. This was the first time he’d seen her like this. It was almost as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was something about her eyes. A different kind of shine.
He was getting to see the true heart of Phoebe.
She winked at him. “I also missed dessert.” Her hand snaked up around his neck again as she leaned in. “I kind of think that’s your fault too. How do you plan on making it up to me?”
He laughed as his hand slid along her silky skin. This felt perfect. It felt so right. If only he could stay just here. If only he could freeze time and let things stay like this. Not have to think about anything else.
Planet Phoebe. No worrying about family. No worrying about business. No selling houses. Just spending the rest of his time with a warm, beautiful, good-spirited woman.
Her stomach growled again. She flipped him onto his back and swung her leg over his body, leaning above him. “Enough, Mr. Bianchi. I think it’s time you introduced me to what Italians have for breakfast.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Well...when you put it like that...”
She lifted her finger to wag it at him but he spun her onto her back so quickly the breath left her body.
He winked at her. “Let me show you.”
* * *
The day couldn’t be better. Last night had been beautiful, surprising, and then emotional, tense and unbelievably hot.
Every time she closed her eyes she could still feel Matteo’s breath on her skin, feel his lips trailing across hers and feel his beating heart next to hers.
The connection was so strong. It was as if now she’d finally decided she was ready to move on, her body and brain had decided to catch up on three years and move at breakneck speed. And although she had the odd thought of caution, Matteo seemed to be matching her every step of the way.
Today had been magical. Matteo had shown her the sights in Rome. He’d taken her to the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican and St Peter’s Basilica. Instead of going by chauffeur-driven car, they’d joined the tourists and Phoebe had loved it.
She’d got to see the excitement and wonder on everyone else’s faces—just like her own—all the while having Matteo’s rich Italian voice in her ear giving her insight and information like her own personal tour guide.
As they lunched at a little restaurant near the Vatican Matteo’s phone rang. He finished the call quickly with a huge smile on his face.
She leaned across the table toward him. “What? What is it?”
He shrugged and held up his hands. “It seems that word has got out. The villa isn’t even on the market, and yet, my solicitor has just had a very substantial offer on the property subject to a viewing next week.”
“Really?” Phoebe could hardly believe it.
“Do you think you can have the house ready for next week?”
She nodded her head. “Of course I can. No problem at all.” She raised her glass of wine toward him. “It just goes to show you, someone has probably had their eye on your family villa for years, and has just been waiting for word that you were ready to sell.”
Matteo nodded. “It seems likely, and, to be honest, I’m glad. I want the house to be lived in, to be enjoyed the way it should be. I’ve always hated the fact that the villa has virtually been unused for the last ten years. It should be brought back to life.” He lifted his wine glass to Phoebe. “It seems you might just be my good luck charm.”
Her heart gave a little flutter. She clinked her glass against his. “Maybe I am. I guess we just need to find out.”
The smile he gave her in return sent little shivers of expectation down her spine and they spent the rest of the afternoon drinking wine and coffee, then finishing with the most wonderful tiramisu. Matteo held her hand across the table the whole time, listening to her ideas for the villa with interest. But when he started talking about plans for them going home her expression must have changed.
“Phoebe, are you okay?”
She nodded nervously. One mention of going home made her mouth go dry. She’d made it on the plane out here. Of course she knew she’d have to make the same journey as before. But last time around, there wasn’t so much time to think about it. Matteo had booked the flights, she’d visited her doctor and felt as if there was a push to come here. The whole chance of not being paid had huge implications for her; it was the biggest motivator for getting on that plane.
But for the journey home?
Matteo now knew about her mother. He wouldn’t withhold payment. Yes, she would complete the job in Rome, but right now the thought of getting on another plane was making her want to be sick.
She gave Matteo a weak smile. “I’m just trying not to think about the flight home. I know it’s more than a few days away. But I guess one flight isn’t enough to cure my fear. I’m worried I’ll be like this forever. Spending my whole life wanting to be sick all over my shoes and having palpitations at the mere thought of a flight.”
Matteo put his other hand over the top of hers and squeezed. “But I’ll be with you. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Don’t worry. And this time, you’ll have my full attention. You don’t need to worry.” He gave her a wicked smile. “I have lots of ways to distract you—if you’ll let me. Or, I can just hold your hand. And you can squeeze mine until there’s no blood flow and it’s a strange shade of purple. Whatever you like.”
She took a deep breath and smiled. She would always be nervous. She didn’t imagine those feelings would ever go away. But having someone who would support her would make things a little easier. Someone she could rely on. Someone she could trust.
It swept over her. Like a warm, soothing breeze. Someone she might love.
For the tiniest second she couldn’t breathe. It felt as if a little flower were blooming and opening in her chest. She’d had her heart sealed off and protected for so long—she’d just never thought she would get here again.
And now, when she least expected it, Matteo had just bolted into her life. With his brisk, businesslike manner she hadn’t expected to be attracted to him. But somehow or other, this man with so many barriers in place, yet with a rich sexy accent and the occasional cheeky twinkle in his eye, had made her feel a whole lot of something.
Sometimes love caught you unawares.
She reached her other hand over Matteo’s. “I think I might like that.” She smiled. They stayed like that for a few minutes, their gazes meshed, just touching, against the backdrop of St Peter’s Basilica—one of the most beautiful places in the world. Life really couldn’t be more perfect.
She’d told him her biggest secrets, and he’d told her his. But together they could do this. He would support her. And she would support him with what he needed to do when he got home.
Matteo reached over and gently stroked the side of her face. “Thank you for being here,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine being here with anyone else. Just you, Phoebe. You make Rome perfect for me.”
Her heart swelled in her chest. He felt the same as she did. So she did what felt entirely natural. She leaned forward and met his lips with hers. “You do the same for me.”
Nothing felt so sweet. Nothing felt so right. She would remember this moment forever.
When they finally pulled apart, Matteo laughed and straightened his clothes. “I guess we should take a walk. I think I might need to cool off a little.”
Strolling through Rome with Matteo’s arm over her shoulders couldn’t have been sweeter.
* * *
She should have really spent all day working at the villa in Rome—after all, that was why she was there—but she was confident she would be able to do the task over the next week.
Since they’d arrived back at the villa she’d spent the last hour writing notes for work tomorrow, and then dressed for dinner
. Apparently, tonight she would get to taste the best ravioli in Italy.
She tugged at the red dress she was wearing. It was a little longer than she normally wore, but the light floaty fabric skimmed her curves in a way she liked and it would be perfect for dinner.
Matteo was waiting for her downstairs. He met her with a kiss that made her knees tremble and sent little sparks flying around her body.
But as they went to leave Matteo’s phone rang.
“I’ll switch it off,” he said quickly as he pulled it from his pocket. But his brow dipped sharply once he glanced at the screen.
He didn’t hesitate to answer. “Brianna?”
Phoebe felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She walked straight over and put her hands on his other arm. “What is it?”
He changed from English and started speaking rapidly in Italian. She could see him trying to stay calm, even though his words were coming out more frantically and more sternly.
She hated the fact she couldn’t understand almost as much as she hated the fact she couldn’t hear what was being said at the other side. “Is she okay?”
Matteo blanched. His tone of voice changed. She heard his brother’s name. Vittore. At that point, he launched into a tirade, before walking over to the house phone and starting to dial another number.
“What can I do? What can I do to help you?”
But Matteo didn’t seem to hear her. He moved between phone calls. Hanging up on the mobile and giving rapid instructions—still in Italian—into the house phone.
When he finally hung up he looked as if he’d aged ten years in a few minutes. “What is it?” she persisted.
“Brianna. She went into hospital yesterday and didn’t let Vittore tell me. Things are bad. They have to deliver the baby in the next few hours. I have to go home.”
Phoebe blinked then nodded. “Absolutely. Of course you do. I’ll pack.”
“No.”
His voice was sharp. It was almost as if he’d switched off and gone into automatic pilot. “You stay here. You finish the house. Make it ready for the viewing next week that will complete the sale. That’s what I need you to do right now.”
“But your family?” Phoebe took a deep breath. “Maybe you should speak to Vittore before you take off. Let him know you’re worried. Tell him why. He’ll be with Brianna for the next few hours.”
He drew back and looked at her as if she were crazy. “I can’t tell Vittore something like that on the phone. That’s ridiculous. I need to be with my family right now. I can’t stay here with you.”
It was like a chill washing over her body. It wasn’t the words. It was the way that he said them. In the last twenty-four hours she’d never felt as connected to someone as she did to Matteo. But he was acting as if the last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened—as if they meant nothing at all. Had she been stupid? Had she imagined something that wasn’t actually real? Her automatic reaction was to self-protect. To withdraw. “I’m not asking you to. I absolutely understand you going to your sister. I would never ask you not to do that.”
She turned around, trying to ignore the pain washing over her body.
She put her hand on the metallic rail of the staircase and held her breath, squeezing her eyes closed for a second, and praying that he might reconsider—praying that he might say something else. Anything to acknowledge the connection between them. Anything that might make her realize this wasn’t all one-sided. That he might love her as much as she loved him.
But there was nothing. Matteo completely ignored her. He shouted a few commands in Italian to some of the staff at the villa then stalked off into his study to grab a few items.
A few minutes later the car pulled up in front of the villa, ready to take him straight to the airport. Phoebe hadn’t moved much. She’d only made it to the top of the stairs.
There was a fist clenching around her heart. She knew how upset he was. And she got it. She did.
But she also knew that no matter how worried or upset she was about her mother, she wouldn’t treat Matteo so dismissively. She would at the very least try and take a few minutes to explain—to let him understand.
But it seemed that Italian men were different. She knew Italians were famous for family loyalty. But she couldn’t imagine that Matteo could love his family any more than she did hers.
But, it appeared, it didn’t matter. Matteo appeared a few moments later with a bag in hand.
“Matteo?”
He glanced up at her. But the look he gave her was so detached—a world away from the connection of earlier. Her insides felt as though she were on a roller coaster.
His shutters were back in place. The ones he continually hid behind. The ones she’d thought she’d broken through.
He let out a sigh. But it seemed almost dismissive. He shook his head. “It’s better this way, Phoebe.” He paused then added, “Better for us both.” He turned and swept out of the door into the dark night.
It appeared that her plane ride home would be taken alone—the thing that she’d always dreaded.
She couldn’t depend on Matteo after all. And why should she?
She was just an employee.
Chapter Eight
PHOEBE WORKED ON automatic pilot. It was easy. She’d already made the plans for the house and just saw them through to perfection.
The staff in the villa looked after her well. All of them could speak English and translated anything for her that she required and dealt with any orders or deliveries she needed.
By the end of the week the villa was immaculate and ready for viewing.
And Matteo hadn’t called. Not once.
Nor did he call when she contacted the family solicitor to arrange the viewing.
Nor did he call when she arranged her flight home.
Curiosity was killing her. Her fingers found the Hampton house listed for sale on the Internet. The photographs were gorgeous, capturing the true beauty of the surroundings and the stunning views.
And it seemed that word had spread. Her phone hadn’t stopped ringing with offers of new jobs. The solicitor in Italy sent her photographs to use from the villa for her portfolio. She updated her website adding the Italian villa and the Hampton house.
She never discussed the flight home with anyone. The first flight she’d actually refused to board, frozen to her seat in the departure lounge, trying to remember all her breathing exercises.
Thankfully for her, one of the airline staff had taken pity on her. Marsha had experienced many nervous flyers and had been due to fly home herself. She’d distracted Phoebe before the next flight, and held her hand through the take-off and the landing. Laughing off the fact that Phoebe must have practically crushed every bone in her hand.
And after she’d returned, nothing. Not a word. Not a single word from Matteo.
* * *
“You tell us this now?”
Vittore was furious, and didn’t care who knew about it.
Brianna seemed calmer. She walked over to the bassinet and laid Jay down with barely a flicker of emotion. It was only as she moved back over toward Matteo, taking his arm and steering him sharply out of the room, did he see the little flicker at her jaw. She gestured with her head for Vittore to follow, before closing the doors firmly behind her.
“What?” was her only response.
Matteo licked his dry lips. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I wanted to tell you both before. But...it didn’t seem appropriate.”
Vittore was in his face in an instant. “In thirty years—you couldn’t find an appropriate time? We’ve spent our whole lives together, Matt. This was the first time you thought to tell us?” His face was scarlet and his hands were in fists at the sides of his body.
“Of course it wasn’t! But I haven’t known since I was five. I figured it out. Papa would never discuss it.
Never. On the few occasions I tried to ask him about it, it was clear I was upsetting him. He always told me to leave it.”
“You found her. You never told us that before.” Brianna’s voice was quiet, but packed with emotion. Vittore turned to their sister, his face wracked with confusion; it was clear he expected her to be angry too.
Matteo sucked in another breath. “Yes.” His voice shook. He couldn’t help it. “I thought she was sleeping.”
Once he’d started telling his brother and sister, things had just spilled out, often in the wrong order. But he couldn’t keep it together any longer. He’d spent the last month practically on Brianna’s shoulder and it was clear she was suspicious of his overly protective behavior. At first, she’d thought he was just a smitten uncle. But after a few weeks, she’d become more in tune to his observations and questions.
Ever since he’d taken that panicked flight home from Rome he’d felt as if he’d been living on a knife edge. Phoebe’s words had constantly echoed in his brain. The last look on her face haunted him.
He tried to persuade himself it was for the best. He’d never be enough for the bright shining star that was Phoebe Gates. Things would cool, fade and be a disappointment for her. Walking away at this point was actually protecting her—saving her from any future pain he might cause.
But the truth was he’d been so focused on his family he hadn’t left any room for her. It was a mistake. A massive mistake. And the only person he’d been trying to protect was himself. Protecting himself from actually sharing the love and emotional commitment that came from being in a loving relationship with someone who could potentially hurt him. Just as his mother had.
He’d felt abandoned by his mother. Let down.
Surely if she’d loved him more she wouldn’t have committed suicide—wouldn’t have left him, Vittore and Brianna?
He’d also felt responsible. If he’d sounded the alarm sooner—maybe something could have been done—maybe his mother’s life could have been saved and he wouldn’t have grown up with his heart locked away. Scared to let anyone hurt it again.
The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride Page 14
