Harlequin Presents: Once Upon A Temptation June 2020--Box Set 2 of 2

by Lynne Graham

  ‘Are you okay?’ Artie asked, going to her.

  Rosa put a hand to her forehead and winced. ‘I have the most dreadful headache.’

  ‘Then you must go straight back to bed. I’ll call the doctor and—’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine. It’s just a headache. I’ve had them before.’

  Artie frowned at the housekeeper’s pallor and bloodshot eyes. ‘You don’t look at all well. I insist you go upstairs to bed. I’ll manage things down here. It’s about time you had some time to yourself. You’ve been going non-stop since Papa died. And well before that too.’ Artie didn’t like admitting how dependent she had become on the housekeeper but she wouldn’t have been able to cope without Rosa running errands for her.

  Rosa began to untie her apron, her expression etched with uncertainty. ‘Are you sure?’

  Artie took the apron from the housekeeper and tossed it to one side. ‘Upstairs. Now. I’ll check on you in a couple of hours. And if you’re not feeling better by then, I’m calling the doctor.’

  ‘Sì, sì, Signora Ferrantelli.’ Rosa mock-saluted Artie and then she left the room.

  Artie released a sigh and pulled out a chair to sit down at the breakfast table but her appetite had completely deserted her. What would she do without Rosa? The housekeeper was her link to the outside world. Her only true friend. If anything happened to Rosa she would be even more isolated.

  Stranded.

  But you have a husband now…

  The sound of firm footsteps approaching sent a tingle down Artie’s spine. She swivelled in her chair to see Luca enter the breakfast room. His hair was still damp from a shower, his face cleanly shaven, the sharp tang of his citrus-based aftershave teasing her nostrils. He was wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt that lovingly hugged his muscular chest and ridged abdomen.

  ‘Good morning.’ Her tone was betrayingly breathless and her cheeks grew warm. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Morning.’ He pulled out the chair opposite, sat down and spread his napkin over his lap. ‘I ran into Rosa when I was coming down. She didn’t look well.’

  Artie picked up the jug of fresh orange juice and poured some into her glass. ‘I’ve sent her back to bed. She’s got a bad headache. She gets them occasionally.’ She offered him the juice but he shook his head and reached for the coffee pot. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

  Luca picked up his cup, glancing at her over the rim. ‘Has she got plans to retire? This is a big place to take care of. Does anyone come in to help her?’

  Artie chewed at the side of her mouth. ‘They used to but we had to cut back the staff a while back. I help her. I enjoy it, actually. It’s a way of thanking her for helping me all these years.’

  ‘And how does she help you?’ His gaze was unwavering, almost interrogating in its intensity.

  Artie lowered her gaze and stared at the beads of condensation on her glass of orange juice. ‘Rosa runs errands for me. She picks up shopping for me, the stuff I can’t get online, I mean. She’s been with my family for a long time. This is her home. Here, with me.’

  Luca put down his cup with a clatter on the saucer. ‘She can’t stay here for ever, Artie. And neither can you.’ His tone was gentle but firm, speaking a truth she recognised but didn’t want to face.

  She pushed back her chair and tossed her napkin on the table. ‘Will you excuse me? I want to check on Rosa.’

  ‘Sit down, cara.’ There was a thread of steel underlining each word. The same steel glinting in his eyes and in the uncompromising line of his jaw.

  Artie toyed with the idea of defying him, a secret thrill shooting through her at the thought of what he might do to stop her flouncing out of the room. Grasp her by the wrists? Hold her to his tempting body? Bring that firm mouth down on hers in another toe-curlingly passionate kiss? She held his gaze for a heart-stopping moment, her pulse picking up its pace, the backs of her knees fizzing. But then she sat heavily in the chair, whipped her napkin across her lap and threw him a look so sour it could have curdled the milk in the jug. ‘I hope you’re not going to make a habit of ordering me about like I’m some sort of submissive slave.’

  His eyes continued to hold hers in a battle of wills. ‘I want to talk to you about your relationship with Rosa. I get that she’s been supportive for a long time and you see her as a friend you can rely on, but what if she’s actually holding you back from developing more autonomy?’

  Artie curled her lip. ‘I didn’t know you had a psychology degree amongst your other impressive achievements.’

  ‘I don’t need a psychology degree to see what’s happening here.’ He picked up a teaspoon and stirred his coffee even though he didn’t take sugar or milk. He put the teaspoon down again and continued. ‘I know it’s hard for you but—’

  ‘How do you know anything of what it’s like for me?’ She banged her hand on the table, rattling the cups and saucers. ‘You’re not me. You don’t live in my mind, in my body. I’m the only one who knows what this is like for me.’ Her chest was tightening, her breathing becoming laboured, her skin breaking out in a sweat. She could feel the pressure building. The fear climbing up her spine. The dread roiling in her stomach. The hammering of her heart. The panic spreading, growing, expanding, threatening to explode inside her head.

  Luca rose from his seat and came around to her side of the table and crouched down beside her chair. He took one of her hands in his, enclosing it within the warm shelter of his. ‘Breathe, cara. Take a slow, deep breath and let it out on the count of three. One. Two. Three. And again. That’s it. Nice and slow.’

  Artie concentrated on her breathing, holding tightly to the solid anchor of his hand, drawing comfort from his deep and calming tone. The panic gradually subsided, retreating like a wild beast that had been temporarily subdued by a much bigger, stronger opponent. After a long moment, she let out a rattling sigh. ‘I’m okay now… I think…’ She tried to remove her hand but he kept a firm but gentle hold on her, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb in slow, soothing strokes that made every overwrought cell in her body quieten.

  ‘Take your time, mia piccola.’

  Artie chanced a glance at his concerned gaze. ‘I suppose you think I’m crazy. A mad person who can’t walk out of her own front gate.’

  Luca placed his other hand beneath her chin and locked her gaze on his. His eyes were darkened by his wide pupils, the green and brown flecks in his irises reminding her of a nature-themed mosaic. ‘I don’t think any such thing.’ He gave a rueful twist of his mouth and continued. ‘When my father and brother drowned, I didn’t leave the house for a month after their funeral.’ A shadow passed across his face like scudding grey clouds. ‘I couldn’t face the real world without them in it. It was a terrible time.’ His tone was weighted with gravitas, his expression drawn in lines of deep sadness.

  Artie squeezed his hand. ‘It must have been so tragic for you and your mother. How did you survive such awful loss?’

  One side of his mouth came up in a smile that wasn’t quite a smile. ‘There are different types of survival, sì? I chose to concentrate on forging my way through the morass of grief by studying hard, acing my exams and taking over my father’s company. I taught myself not to think about my father and brother. Nothing could bring them back, but I figured I could make my father proud by taking up the reins of his business even though it was never my aspiration to do so. That was my brother’s dream.’ His half-smile faded and the shadow was back in his gaze.

  Artie ached for what he had been through, knowing first-hand how such tragic loss impacted on a person. The way it hit you at odd moments like a sudden stab, doubling you over with unbearable pain. The ongoing reminders—birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, Mother’s Day. So many days of the year when it was impossible to forget. And then there was the guilt that never went away. It hovered over her every single day of her
life. ‘How did your mother cope with her grief?’

  Luca released her hand and straightened to his full height. Artie could sense him withdrawing into himself as if the mention of his mother pained him more than he wanted to admit. ‘Enough miserable talk for now. Finish your breakfast, cara. And after that, we will call my grandfather and I’ll introduce you to him.’

  Her stomach fluttered with nerves. ‘What if he doesn’t accept me? What if he doesn’t like me or think I’m suitable?’

  Luca stroked his hand over the top of her head, his expression inscrutable. ‘Don’t worry. He will adore you the minute he meets you.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LUCA CALLED HIS GRANDFATHER on his phone a short time later and selected the video-call option. He sat with Artie on the sofa in the salon and draped an arm around her waist to keep her in the range of the camera. The fragrance of her perfume wafted around his nostrils, her curly hair tickling his jaw when she leaned closer. His grandfather’s image came up on the screen and Luca felt Artie tense beside him. He gave her a gentle squeeze and smiled at her before turning back to face his grandfather.

  ‘Nonno, allow me to introduce you to my beautiful wife Artemisia—Artie for short. We were married yesterday.’

  The old man frowned. ‘Your wife? Pah! You think I’m a doddering old fool or something? You said you were never getting married and now you present me with a wife? Why didn’t you bring her here to meet me in person?’

  ‘We’re on our honeymoon, Nonno,’ Luca said, wishing, not for the first time, it was true. ‘But soon, sì?’

  ‘Buongiorno, Signor Ferrantelli,’ Artie said. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been ill. It must be so frustrating for you.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s frustrating—having my only grandson gadding about all these years as a freedom-loving playboy, when all I want is to see a great-grandchild before I leave this world. It’s his duty, his responsibility to carry on the proud family name by producing a new generation.’

  Luca gave a light laugh. ‘We’ve only just got married, Nonno. Give us time.’ He suddenly realised he didn’t want to share Artie with anyone. He wanted to spend time alone with her, getting to know her better. He wanted her with an ache that wouldn’t go away. Ever since he’d kissed her it had smouldered like hot coals inside him. The need to explore her body, to awaken her to the explosive pleasure he knew they would experience together. But he refused to even think about the cosy domestic future his grandfather hoped for him. Babies? A new generation of Ferrantellis? Not going to happen.

  ‘You’ve wasted so much time already,’ Nonno said, scowling. ‘Your father was married to your mother and had Angelo and you well before your age.’

  ‘Sì, I know.’ Luca tried to ignore the dart of pain in his chest at the mention of his father and brother. And his mother, of course. He could barely think of his mother without feeling a tsunami of guilt for how his actions had destroyed her life. Grandchildren might soften the blow for his mother, but how could he allow himself to think about providing them? Family life was something he had never envisaged for himself. How could he when he had effectively destroyed his own family of origin?

  ‘Luca is everything I ever dreamed of in a husband,’ Artie piped up in a proud little voice that made something in his chest ping. ‘He’s definitely worth waiting for.’

  Nonno gave a grunt, his frown still in place. ‘Did you give her your grandmother’s engagement ring?’ he asked Luca.

  ‘Sì,’ Luca said.

  Artie lifted her hand to the camera. ‘I love it. It’s the most gorgeous ring I’ve ever seen. I feel incredibly honoured to be wearing it. I wish I could have met your wife. You must miss her terribly.’

  ‘Every day.’ Nonno shifted his mouth from side to side, his frown softening its grip on his weathered features. ‘Don’t leave it too long before you come and see me in person, Artie. I haven’t got all the time in the world.’

  ‘You’d have more time if you follow your doctor’s advice,’ Luca said.

  ‘I’d love to meet you,’ Artie said. ‘Luca’s told me so much about you.’

  ‘Yes, well, he’s told me virtually nothing about you,’ Nonno said, disapproval ripe in his tone. ‘How did you meet?’

  ‘I met Artie through her father,’ Luca said. ‘I knew she was the one for me as soon as I laid eyes on her.’ It wasn’t a lie. He had known straight up that Artie was the only young woman his grandfather would approve of as his bride.

  Nonno gave another grunt. ‘Let’s hope you can handle him, Artie. He’s a Ferrantelli. We are not easy to live with but if you love him it will certainly help.’

  ‘I think he’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met,’ Artie said, softly. ‘Take care of yourself, Signor Ferrantelli. I hope to meet you in person soon.’

  The most amazing man she’d ever met? Luca mentally laughed off the compliment. Artie had met so few men it wasn’t hard to impress her. What he wanted to do was help her get over her phobia. Not just because he wanted her to meet his grandfather but because he knew it would open up opportunities and experiences for her that had been denied her for way too long. But would she trust him enough to guide her through what would no doubt be a difficult and frightening journey for her?

  * * *

  Artie turned to face Luca once the call had ended. His arm was still around her waist and every nerve beneath her skin was acutely aware of its solid warm presence. ‘I’m not so sure we convinced him. Are you?’

  Luca’s expression was etched in frowning lines. ‘Who knows?’ His features relaxed slightly and he added, ‘You did well. That was a nice touch about me being your dream husband. It’s kind of scary how convincing you sounded.’ He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, his gaze darkening.

  Artie disguised a swallow, her heart giving a little kick when his eyes drifted to her mouth. ‘Yes, well, I surprised myself, actually.’ She frowned and glanced down at the engagement and wedding rings on her hand and then lifted her gaze back to his. ‘I feel like I’m letting you down by not being able to leave the castello. If we’d gone in person to see him, or even better, married somewhere closer so your grandfather could have attended…’

  ‘You’re not letting me down at all,’ Luca said. ‘But what if I tried to help you? We could start small and see how it goes—baby steps.’

  ‘I’ve had help before and it hasn’t worked.’

  ‘But you haven’t had my help.’ He smiled and took her hand, running his thumb over the back of it in gentle strokes. ‘It’s worth a try, surely?’

  Panic crawled up her spine and sent icicles tiptoeing across her scalp. ‘What, now?’

  ‘No time like the present.’

  Artie compressed her lips, trying to control her breathing. ‘I don’t know…’

  He raised her chin with the end of his finger. ‘Trust me, cara. I won’t push you further than you can manage. We will take it one step at a time.’

  Artie swallowed and then let out a long, ragged breath. ‘Okay. I’ll try but don’t be mad at me if I don’t get very far.’

  He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the middle of her forehead. ‘I won’t get mad at you, mia piccola. I’m a very patient man.’

  A few minutes later, Artie stood with Luca on the front steps of the castello, her gaze focussed on the long walk to the brass gates in the distance. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel its echo in her ears. Her skin was already damp with perspiration, and her legs trembling like a newborn foal’s. She desperately wanted to conquer her fear, now more than ever. She wanted to meet Luca’s grandfather, to uphold her side of their marriage deal but what if she failed yet again? She had failed every single time she had tried to leave the castello. It was like a thick glass wall was blocking her exit. She could see the other side to freedom but couldn’t bring herself to step over the boundary lines. The castello was safe
. She was safe here. Other people on the outside were safe from her.

  What would happen if she went past her self-imposed boundary?

  Luca took her hand and smiled down at her. ‘Ready? One step at a time. Take all the time you need.’

  Artie sucked in a deep breath and went down the steps to the footpath. So far, so good. ‘I’ve done this before, heaps of times, and I always fail.’

  ‘Don’t talk yourself into failure, cara.’ His tone was gently reproving. ‘Believe you can do something and you’ll do it.’

  ‘Easy for you to say.’ Artie flicked him a glance. ‘You’re confident and run a successful business. You’ve got runs on the board. What do I have? A big fat nothing.’

  Luca stopped and turned her so she was facing him, his hands holding her by the upper arms. ‘You have cared for your father for a decade. You quite likely extended his life by doing so. Plus, you’re a gifted embroiderer. I have never seen such detailed and beautiful work. You have to start believing in yourself, cara. I believe in you.’

  Artie glanced past his broad shoulder to the front gates, fear curdling her insides. She let out another stuttering breath and met his gaze once more. ‘Okay, let’s keep going. I have to do this. I can do this.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ Luca said, smiling and taking her by the hand again. ‘I’m with you every step of the way.’

  Artie took two steps, then three, four, five until she lost count. The gates loomed closer and closer, the outside world and freedom beckoning. But just as she got to about two-thirds of the way down the path a bird suddenly flew up out of the nearby shrubbery and Artie was so startled she lost her footing and would have tripped if Luca hadn’t been holding her hand. ‘Oh!’ she gasped.

  ‘You’re okay, it was just a bird.’

  Artie glanced at the front gates, her heart still banging against her breastbone. ‘I think I’m done for one day.’

  He frowned. ‘You don’t want to try a little more? We’re almost there. Just a few more steps.’