Billionaire Brides: An Anthology

by Connelly, Clare

  Montepulciano Artist in Residence Programme was written at the top. She read the cover page and then lifted her eyes to his in confusion. “What is this, Sabato?”

  “Cara, you are an artist of incredible talent and potential.”

  “You’re just saying that because you feel bad for me.”

  His eyes glittered in his face. “Do you truly think that is something I would do? I am a business man, first and foremost.”

  She arched her brow, silently disputing the assertion. To her, he was a lover, first and foremost. And nothing else besides.

  His smile showed he understood. “I want you to do only your art. You have a gift, and it is selfish to withhold it from the world.”

  She blinked away the confusion that was writhing through her. “That’s the second time you’ve called me selfish.”

  “Read the contract, Emily.” He nodded towards it. “Everything is in black and white. You will have to meet certain obligations, and in exchange, you will receive a salary, and accommodation.”

  She scanned the document silently. Obligations? Her eyes landed on the relevant paragraph and she read it several times. “It says I’m to produce a minimum of two pieces a month. And that you will commission me to do three specific works of art in a twelve month period.”

  “Si,” he agreed with a business like nod. He pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “And that’s all?”

  “You will find there is nothing unusual about this arrangement. Many artists are in receipt of support from a benefactor.”

  “But it’s just because we slept together!” She cried, marvelling at the cruelty of having her dreams in sight, knowing she had to turn away from them.

  “No.” He gripped her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “That is entirely separate to this.”

  Emily made a sound of disbelief. “How can it possibly be? No, Sabato. I’m not going to just fall in with your plans.”

  “These are your plans. Your dreams.”

  He was right, and yet she shook her head. “It’s so complicated.”

  “You are making it complicated. You worked for me at my hotel. That was a waste of your skills. Work for me as an artist instead.”

  “But this is too much,” she said, handing his phone back to him. “It looks enormous.”

  “It is not. Come and see it now?”

  So many reasons to say no, and yet she found herself nodding. She walked beside him, matching his fast pace. When she went to pull the door shut behind herself, he shook his head. “Leave it. I have a removalist coming to pack your things.”

  “What?” She looked up at him with a mix of consternation and surprise. “I haven’t even agreed yet.”

  He shrugged enigmatically. “You will.”

  “Sabato,” she shook her head and expelled a sigh. “You don’t understand. I can’t make snap decisions like that. It’s not that simple.”

  He stopped walking and looked at her earnestly. “Everything is simple with money at your disposal.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, it isn’t.” She pulled the door inwards, wincing when it came freely and whacked her foot. “I have Andrew to consider. He goes to school near here. And he has friends in the building.”

  “This apartment is in London Bridge. That’s ten minutes by your beloved bus. I am not suggesting you move to the moon, cara.”

  So reasonable, and so right. She crossed her arms across her chest petulantly and shrugged. “Fine. Let’s go look at it. Just look,” she reiterated.

  He shook his chauffeur away and opened the door for Emily himself. “You’re very beautiful when you’re sulking,” he whispered in her ear, as she slid into the backseat of the luxurious black car.

  Emily didn’t look at him. He sat beside her, and the car eased away from her building – and, she suspected, her old life. For good. The luxury vehicle was the last word in elegance, and Emily felt like a duck out of water.

  It was a short journey to London Bridge, as he’d said. The car pulled up outside a modern block of flats and a doorman greeted them with a professional clip of his greying head.

  “Security,” Sabato said crisply, nodding curtly at the gentleman and guiding Emily into the palatial foyer. It was as different to her own modest accommodations that she couldn’t help but smile at him bemusedly.

  The lift opened as soon as his finger pressed the button. His hand on her back nudged her into the mirrored cubicle, and Sabato swiped a card then pressed the button for the top floor. “More security,” he said unnecessarily; his disapproval of her own flat was obvious. The lift ascended swiftly, the doors opening right into the living space.

  “Holy hell,” Emily muttered, spinning on the spot so that she could take in the forever-away ceilings, crisp white walls, sand-coloured timber floors, and all the natural light, even on a gloomy Autumnal day.

  “I take it that you like it?”

  Emily didn’t answer. She moved towards the windows, her face glowing. The kitchen was like something out of a space ship. All stainless steel and smooth edges. The fridge was almost bigger than Andrew’s bedroom.

  “Sabato, it is way, way, way too good for us.”

  He cringed at her statement. How could she think of herself in such a downtrodden manner? This woman who was flame and water, earth and matter.

  She moved to the staircase, suspended like a spiral from the ceiling, in the middle of the room. She climbed it quickly, and inspected the three bedrooms and three bathrooms on the mezzanine.

  Sabato was waiting for her in the kitchen when she returned several minutes later. “Well?”

  “Well,” she bit down on her lip. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes.”

  Emily’s brow furrowed.

  “What’s bothering you?” He pushed finally, reaching for her hand and lacing their fingers together. She took a step towards him, though it only muddied things further in her mind.

  “Well,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Lots of things. I mean, what happens in a year’s time? I have to think of Andrew. I can’t move him somewhere like this and then expect him to move back to a tiny little hovel wardrobe bedroom.”

  Sabato smothered his smile at her description. “Cara, do you know what I was doing when I was your age?”

  “Sunning yourself on the French Riviera?” She said, only half-joking.

  “Hardly.” His dark eyes held hers earnestly. “I had just cut business and personal ties from my father, and set out on my own. I had only my name to recommend me. I didn’t know how I’d feed myself month to month.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “That seems overly dramatic.”

  He shook his head. “With all due respect, it is the truth. From the day I found out about my father’s affair, I have not taken a penny from him.”

  Emily was shaken out of her own reverie to contemplate this revelation. “I didn’t know,” she said finally. “You never mentioned that you’re estranged.” The wealth of information she didn’t possess about this man would have depressed Emily if she’d let it.

  “We no longer are,” his smile was grim. “Eventually I came to peace with the situation. My mother forgave him. My brother forgave him. It seemed churlish for me to hold a grudge. But by the time I welcomed him back into my life, I had built my own business interests. When I made the decision to cut all ties from him, and my family’s wealth, I had no idea it would work out as it has. I had no guarantees.”

  “It was a leap of faith,” Emily murmured thoughtfully. “I see what you’re saying. But you had only yourself to consider. And, I don’t mean to belittle what you went through, but surely at the back of your mind was the knowledge that you could always go home, cap in hand.”

  Sabato looked at her ironically. “Do you really think that is something I would do?”

  Her heartbeat accelerated dramatically. “No.”

  “Sign the contract and believe everything will work out.”

  “But �
��”

  “But nothing. There are no guarantees, Emily. I am offering you something that has the potential to transform your life. Are you brave enough to step into the unknown?”

  She thought of the last time she’d done so – the night she’d met Sabato and accompanied him to his suite. It had been the beginning of the most amazing few days of her life. No matter how painful the following months of desperate loneliness had been, she would never take back that decision. Her mouth felt dry. “Do you have a pen?”

  His smile was loaded with relief. He handed her his own and watched as she scrawled her name over the page. Even her signature was a work of art. He stood, and put his arms around her waist. “I am very pleased, Emily.”

  Speech was impossible. Her body was churning with so many feelings, desire chief amongst them.

  “And now that it is official, I have a request for your first commission.”

  His body was warm and strong. She ached to run her fingers over his chest and down lower still, but she didn’t. He’d offered her a lifeline, and she wanted him to see how seriously she would take it. She stepped out of his embrace, putting some vital distance between them. “What is it?”

  “My mother’s birthday is in a month. My father has organised a weekend of celebrations. Come, and begin work on her portrait. It will be my gift to her.”

  “Oh,” she nodded swiftly. “That’s a wonderful idea. But surely I don’t need to be there while all the celebrations are going on. I’d just be in the way. I could go earlier, so that you could present it to her on the weekend.”

  Anger surged inside his gut at another statement of hers that belittled her place in the world. “You would not be in the way.”

  “Oh, you know what I mean,” she waved her hand through the air. “It should just be family and guests. Not someone like me. I could even get started from photographs – get my sketching done, so that I don’t have to keep your mother for too many sittings.”

  “Emily,” he interrupted, holding a hand up. “I am very pleased you’ve accepted this arrangement. However else I might feel about you, I am still your boss, and I am explaining what I require of you. It is not negotiable.”

  “Oh.” Her stomach lurched at the coldness of his words. She’d disappointed him already. This was never going to work. She turned away, pretending to study the murky grey sky beyond the apartment, but her insides were far, far darker. “Of course. Please just let me know the details and I’ll be there.”

  Sabato could have ripped his hair out. He was handling it all so badly. The hurt in her voice was like a tiny little arrow plunging through his heart. He crossed towards her and put a hand gently on her shoulder. “My assistant will send you an itinerary closer to the date. Will Andrew be joining you?”

  Emily couldn’t meet his eyes. “When did you say?”

  “In a month.”

  “That’s school holidays. I can ask Milly and Jacob to have him for a visit. He likes to stay with them.” Her lips lifted in a deflated smile. “They spoil him with chocolate and movies that are far too old for him. I’ll come alone.”

  And with that simple concession, the die was cast. All Emily had to do was wait out the time. A month. A whole month. How would she cope?

  * * *

  “There must be some mistake,” Emily’s face was white, her eyes enormous in her face.

  The nurse leaned forward solicitously. Her name tag was cream with red writing that proudly declared she was called Rose. “I take it this wasn’t planned.”

  Emily might have laughed, if she weren’t so desperately beside herself. “Not exactly,” she responded quietly, her eyes banking down. “I’m only twenty two, and I have a brother I’m raising. And he – the father – lives in Italy. And… Oh hell.” She rubbed her palms against her eyes, the sting of tears familiar to her now.

  Rose reached for a box of tissues and put it right in front of her young patient. “Do you have someone you can talk to about things? To work out how you’d like to proceed?” Her voice was carefully wiped clean of any judgement.

  Emily thought of Ewan and nodded. “I guess so.”

  “I can give you some brochures, that cover all the, er, options.”

  “What are my options?” Emily groaned, dipping her head forward. How had she been so stupid? All her life, it was the one thing her grandparents had drummed into her time and time again.

  “Well, dear, there’s the obvious one – to have the baby and raise it yourself. Or, you could have the baby and put it up for adoption. Or, you might choose to terminate.”

  “Terminate?” She shivered at the very idea of it. Not because she thought it was morally wrong, necessarily, but because she had a kernel of Sabato growing inside of her, and already she felt she would put her own life down before risking anything happening to their baby. “That’s not what I want. And adoption won’t be an option either. The father would never agree to it.”

  Rose nodded sympathetically. “Well then, dear, I think you’ve got a very important conversation in your future, don’t you?”

  Chapter 8

  The Montepulciano villa sat lofty and proud, bathed in golden reds, high atop a rolling hill on the edges of Tuscany. The sun had set, and the air was cool. Flaming pillars led the way from the street up to the house, and guests had been arriving steadily for hours.

  Emily wasn’t late, but Sabato had been waiting for her for a month. His impatience was a physical force now, and it expressed itself as anger and frustration with the world at large. He observed the party below, not dissimilar in nature to the party he’d first met Emily at. Lots of very beautiful, well-dressed women and wealthy men mingled beneath him, sipping champagne and speaking in politely hushed tones.

  His mother was a picture, looking twenty years younger than her seventy one summers. She was draped elegantly across a chaise lounge, her husband Nico attentive at her side. Rafaelo, their biological child, greeted guests, his smile warm, his manner proprietorial. It was Sabato who didn’t belong.

  Then again, he never had. He was the child they’d adopted because their much-loved son wanted a brother. A brother Corrina could not provide, except by adoption.

  He shook his head and grabbed his tuxedo jacket. Brooding was not going to make Emily appear any faster. It would be better to wait for her downstairs. Distracted by the swirling festivities, perhaps it would hasten her arrival.

  “Ciao, Sab,” Maria Alenova greeted him as soon as he stepped out on to the terrace. The view of the Tuscan countryside was breathtaking, and Maria was perhaps even more so.

  They had been friends for a long time, and lovers briefly, but he could find little more than a curt nod for her now.

  She pressed her cherry red lips to first one cheek, and then the other. “You look as good as ever,” she observed, winking, and unashamedly raking her eyes over his tuxedo clad body.

  “As do you,” he responded truthfully. She stood almost six foot tall. Her legs were long and slim, showcased in a silken mini dress and sky-high heels.

  “Benne,” she shrugged, sending a hint of her vanilla perfume his way.

  He nodded towards her empty glass. “Drink?”

  “If you’ll join me.”

  He dipped his head in silent assent and moved towards the bar. A champagne for Maria and a Campari for Sabato. “Let us stand here,” he nodded toward the edge of the courtyard. The spot was away from the crowds, and afforded a good view of the entrance.

  The band was playing the kind of jazz music that was popular during the Second World War, lilting songs that were sung in French, speaking of broken hearts and unrequited love. Sabato was easily able to converse with Maria; they had a long-established friendship. But his mind was not on her words. His eyes clung to the side of the villa, watching and waiting.

  When would she arrive?

  * * *

  Emily ran a hand down the black silk dress. It was simple and elegant; plain and unassuming. After all, she wasn’t a guest at the affair. No
t really. She was staff – just as she had been at Sabato’s fundraiser that night.

  And yet, his emails had been insistent. He wanted her to attend the parties, to get a feel for the life his mother lived. He had noticed, he’d said, the way she imbued her work with atmosphere, and he wanted that atmosphere to be authentic to the Tuscan villa.

  Paradise surrounded her, she thought with a shake of her head as she emerged onto the paved courtyard. It was enormous, wrapping the whole length of the villa, showcasing stunning views of the countryside beyond. Butterflies hammered her insides and she felt suddenly besieged by worry.

  For a whole month, she had lived in the height of luxury. And every morning she had felt like an imposter. She was terrified of damaging the luxurious apartment, and so she had barely existed in it beyond the kitchen and her bedroom. Still, acceptance was an inevitability of the human condition, and over time, she’d begun to forget a little of their differences.

  Until this moment. Surrounded by the people Sabato belonged to, in the palace like Villa he’d called home in his childhood, she was vibrantly aware of how little she could ever offer him. Their compatibility was physical, and there would never be anything beyond it.

  And yet there was a baby to consider.

  Her legs were weakened by anxiety. What would it be like to see him again? Would he feel the same intense need to touch her? To speak with her? To fix her life? Or would he regret all of the meddling he’d done that he brought her closer into his life.

  Emily shook her head tiredly. These thoughts had been her constant companion; soon, she would have her answer.

  Despite the nearness to winter, the air was mild. Heaters dotted around the terrace added to the general warmth of the environment.

  A waiter waved a tray of champagnes in her direction and she took one, simply for something to hold. Of course, she couldn’t drink any. There was the tiny husk of a baby growing inside of her, and she needed to nurture it.

  She’d done so many tests she’d lost count though. Each and every one had shown the same blue lines.