The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

by Scarlet Wilson

  She grabbed her bag and jacket and headed to the front door. The sky was already black and the snow was swirling around. Her Mini was coated in a thick layer of it. She smiled. Most New Yorkers saw no need for a car. Transport in the city was good. But Phoebe’s interior design job meant she frequently needed to travel further afield.

  She’d watched a movie years ago that featured three of these cars and had dreamed of one ever since. When she’d found a second-hand one—that came from the UK—a few months ago, she’d had to buy it.

  The driveway was thick with ice and Phoebe practically skidded as she headed to the car. She jumped inside and started the engine. The car was always reliable and turned over first time. But as she moved the car into first gear—she’d finally got used to the stick shift—the wheels spun in the snow. She tried again, and again, but the car didn’t move.

  Somewhere in the distance fireworks exploded in the dark sky. It seemed that the Hampton parties had started already. People weren’t waiting for the stroke of midnight for the fun to start. She could only imagine the chaos around Times Square right now with people crushing in, waiting to see the famous ball drop. Did she really want to head back there?

  She sighed and leaned back in her seat as the thick flakes of snow continued to fall. She stared back at the house. Just as well she loved the place—looked as if she’d have to stay.

  Phoebe scrambled back out of the car and into the house. Now the work crew had all left it was amazing how much her footsteps echoed through the house. She pulled out her phone and searched for the nearest pizza place—thank goodness it was still open. Two minutes later she’d ordered, warning their delivery driver about the driveway.

  She glanced at her phone and sent a quick text to her mother. It would be so easy to sit down and spend all night on social media, but it wasn’t really what she wanted to do. None of the TVs in the house was currently working. The satellite company wasn’t scheduled to arrive until next week.

  She smiled. Of course. The library. The perfect place to spend a snow-filled evening. It was stacked with multiple shelves of books, accessible by an old-style set of moving steps. In a way, it was the perfect place for her to see in the New Year.

  She grabbed the bag she carried with her. Unlike some interior designers she always had a change of clothes so she could do as much physical work as possible. It only took ten minutes to head upstairs and shower and change into the gray sweatpants and long-sleeved pink top she had with her. Comfort first. The bed that she’d made up earlier looked good. Only thing was, the room was a little cold. The heating system was something she’d have to look at the next day. It might be a bit chilly, but staying here wouldn’t be such a hardship.

  She headed back down the stairs and spent fifteen minutes trying to light the fire in the library. Eventually she conceded defeat and did an Internet search and watched a video that showed her how to do it. Five minutes later she finally had the flicker of flames, followed by the arrival of her pizza. The delivery guy gave her a wry smile. “Just as well we have a four-by-four. Your driveway doesn’t take any prisoners. And I’m heading home now.”

  Phoebe nodded and smiled as she paid him and gave him a big tip. “Thanks so much for this. Happy New Year. Drive safely.”

  Your driveway. The guy was assuming she actually owned the house. Maybe in some wild dream or fantasy she would actually own a house in the Hamptons. Phoebe couldn’t stop smiling as she closed the door.

  The pizza was lukewarm. But it didn’t matter. She hadn’t realized she was quite so hungry. She carried it through to the library and looked around. Even though the fire was lit she still felt a little cold. She hesitated for only a few seconds before she ran back up the stairs and pulled the new bedclothes from the bed. There was no point in being cold.

  Two slices of pizza later, she’d found a book that could make her hair curl even tighter and she settled down on the rug in front of the fire. This could be interesting.

  * * *

  Matteo let out another curse as his car skidded and he struggled to stop the back end fishtailing. Although the roads from the city had been glistening with snow, the gritters had been out and main highways were clear. The roads through the hamlets and villages of the Hamptons were a little different. He’d had the choice of any car in the garage and had chosen the one he’d thought most practical. The large four-by-four had initially made the journey easy, but the hardest part of the journey was now his own driveway. It currently resembled some kind of ice rink.

  He frowned as he finally pulled up outside the house. He’d never intended to be this late, but a conference call had gone on much longer than expected. So by the time he’d started the journey to the Hamptons it was already dark. There was another car sitting in front of the house—one he didn’t recognize.

  It was New Year’s Eve. Who on earth would still be here? Chances were it was nobody. Maybe one of the workers had decided to take a ride home with someone else—perhaps to join in some New Year’s celebrations.

  Matteo had tactfully given apologies to three potential party invitations, and the last place on earth he wanted to be right now was in the heart of New York at Times Square. The streets had been crammed as he’d left the city and they’d be worse by now.

  He stepped outside of the car and promptly landed on his butt. He got up quicker than he’d gone down, groaning and rubbing his backside, flicking his head from side to side. Of course no one had seen him—no one was here. But his reactions were just automatic. He pulled his phone from his pocket praying the screen wasn’t smashed.

  The spider’s web across the glass told him otherwise.

  He held it up to the alarm scanner. Nothing. Nothing happened. He tried again, then frowned as he turned the key in the lock. A couple of seconds and a few careful steps later he was inside the house.

  As soon as he was in the entrance hall he knew something wasn’t right.

  There was...something.

  A noise. A smell.

  He turned in that direction and started walking. At the end of the corridor there was a glow. None of the lights were on in this part of the house. He could easily flick the switches. But he was far too stubborn minded to slow down. He shook his head as he kept walking. For the first time since he’d been a teenager, every bad horror movie he’d ever watched suddenly made sense. He’d always shouted at the screen before—why haven’t you put on the lights? Why are you walking toward the trouble? But here he was, doing exactly the same.

  That car still bothered him. But it could easily belong to one of the clean-up crew who didn’t want to drive a small car home in the snow and had traveled home with someone else. The door had been locked, but the alarm hadn’t been on.

  Could this be an intruder? Someone who’d heard the house was being renovated and had decided there might be something worth stealing?

  His hands clenched into fists. Matteo didn’t need any kind of weapon. He was more than a match for any intruder.

  As he strode down the corridor he realized where the light was coming from. The library? Why on earth would any intruder go to the library? It was a place he’d never spent much time in; he hadn’t even remembered to direct Phoebe here when she was looking around the house.

  There was something strange about the light. And the smell. Was something burning?

  His heart rate quickened as he swung the door open—to the most peaceful scene.

  Phoebe was lying curled up on the floor, covered in blankets in front of a flickering fire.

  A fire. Of course. Although the house had multiple fireplaces, Matteo had never seen any of the fires lit in this house. They’d only stayed here for a few weeks one fateful summer. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the light might be coming from one of the fireplaces.

  Phoebe’s curls were fanned out all around her, her head on a cushion that must have come from one of the high-b
ack chairs. On the floor in front of her was a pizza box, with only a few slices missing.

  For a few moments he didn’t move. Just watched the rise and fall of her chest. Her skin glowed in the orange flickering flames. Her lips full and pink.

  Something clenched inside him and he turned away. She was an employee. A business associate. Even if it was for only a few weeks. He had to push any other kind of thoughts away. He had too much else to deal with—too much else to worry about. He couldn’t afford any distractions.

  “Matteo?”

  He turned around. Phoebe was pushing herself up, moving her hair away from her tired eyes. “When did you get here?” She looked confused. “What time is it?”

  Matteo straightened up. “It’s after ten. Phoebe, what are you doing here? It’s New Year’s Eve. Are you staying here?”

  She gave a weak smile. “I kind of got snowed in. My Mini wouldn’t move. The wheels just kept spinning in the snow. They couldn’t get any grip.”

  She looked down at the bedding around her, and pulled a face as if she realized how inappropriate it might look. “I’m sorry about this. I came down here because I was cold. We’ll need to check the boilers. Once I’d lit the fire and had something to eat, I just closed my eyes for a second and...” Her voice tailed off, then she let out a little laugh and pulled her knees up to her chest. “But isn’t this the perfect place to spend New Year’s?”

  The heat from the room reached out toward Matteo. The fire was inviting. But the sleepy-eyed woman seemed even more so. It was the expression on her face when she said those words. Any other woman that Matteo had been involved with would have made a song and dance about New Year’s Eve and parties. More than once he’d ended up spending New Year’s dressed in a tuxedo and celebrating with people he barely knew, as the woman on his arm complained about her shoes and drank more champagne. He wasn’t at all sorry not to be in that situation this year.

  Phoebe, in her casual clothes, with pizza and a bed in front of the fire, was like a revelation.

  He stepped inside. Phoebe gave a rueful smile and held up the pizza box. “Can I offer you some cold pizza? The delivery guy managed to get here, so pizza—” she looked around “—and soda is all I can offer you.”

  Matteo shook his head. “I didn’t come here for food.”

  “Oh, what did you come for?”

  The question was innocent. He knew that. But it sent up all his defenses. “Just something for the family.”

  Phoebe looked at him curiously as she pushed herself to her feet. “Can I help you?”

  She moved over toward him, obviously feeling self-conscious as she tugged at her clothes. “Not the most professional-looking—I know. But, sometimes dressing homes isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. Sometimes I just get down on my hands and knees and scrub floors.”

  Something flared in his mind. A few years ago he’d sold another property. The interior designer hired then had swanned around in a suit and heels with her hair swept up in a bun, a scarf around her neck and a clipboard permanently in her hand. Ms. Dragon, as he’d nicknamed her, wouldn’t ever dream of getting her hands dirty. She was too busy ordering her minions about. There was something reassuring about knowing how committed to the job Phoebe was.

  Phoebe tilted her head to the side and a waft of roses seemed to reach out toward him. It took him a few seconds to realize the scent was coming from her. Had she just showered? “It’s late. Couldn’t what you need wait until morning?” Phoebe turned and walked to the window, pulling back the shutters and looking at the white landscape outside. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up just as stranded as me.”

  Matteo walked up behind her, standing a little closer than he should. The scent of roses was definitely coming from her. Fresh and light, it was almost intoxicating. Maybe it was the heat from the fire? Or maybe it was just his lack of sleep catching up with him. But something was sending all his senses into overload.

  “What brought you to the library?” Matteo looked around the room. It was darker than the rest of the house, mainly because of the polished mahogany lining the shelves and walls. The only splash of color came from the wingback chairs covered in deep red velvet and the thick red rug in front of the fire. The shelves were lined with a myriad hardback books in a variety of shades that Matteo had never even looked at.

  Phoebe held up her hands, her eyes sparkling. “It’s the most beautiful room in the house. I love it.” She walked over to the old-style moving steps. “Have you any idea how excited I was when I saw these? It’s like every bookworm’s dream. All these books. And these stairs? I could spend all day, every day in this room.” She held up her hands in front of her chest. “I mean, imagine having a library in your house?” Her enthusiasm practically emanated from every pore.

  Matteo leaned back against the wall. He’d never really thought about the library at all. He hadn’t had any interest in it as a five-year-old—he’d been much more excited by the tennis court and swimming pool in the grounds of the house. But the enthusiasm brimming from Phoebe was almost infectious. He walked over and ran his hand across the spines of some of the books. The library had that old-world sort of smell. The kind you either loved—or hated.

  Most of the books looked like encyclopedia-style volumes. He gave a smile. “Remember the world before the Internet, when you actually had to go to a library and search in a book when you wanted to find out something?”

  Phoebe nodded. She was staring at the books in front of her. “Two seconds, that’s how long it takes now to search for something. Think of the hours you had to spend before.”

  She was still smiling as she pulled one of the books from the shelf. “Some of these books look demure. But looks can be deceiving.” There was a glint in her eye as she let the book fall open in her hands.

  Matteo was curious and walked toward her. The heat in the room was building and he shrugged off his jacket. His eyes widened as he looked at the illustrations in the book and choked with laughter. He leaned closer and frowned. “Can people even get in that position?”

  Phoebe met his gaze with a glint in her eye. “Only if you’re a contortionist. I’m assuming these books belonged to the previous owner?”

  Matteo nodded his head. He couldn’t help but smile. “Melinda Mulrooney had a reputation for being demure. Seems like there was much more to her than met the eye.”

  Phoebe smiled as she closed the book and slid it back into place. She turned back toward Matteo and bit her lip. “I’m sorry that I’m here. Obviously, I didn’t mean to be.”

  Matteo shrugged. “It’s fine.” He glanced at the heap of bedclothes on the floor. “But don’t you want to sleep in a bed?”

  “I would have—but it was a little cold upstairs. And what with the fire down here and—” she held out her hands “—all these wonderful books. I kind of decided that this was all the entertainment a girl could need.”

  The sentence was light-hearted but their gazes connected as she said the last few words. It seemed to hang in the air between them. Against the crackle of the fire in the background he could almost hear the sizzle in the air. His skin buzzed and blood rushed to parts at the rate of a Grand Prix driver racing around Le Mans. He was holding his breath without even realizing it, and as Phoebe’s tongue slipped from her mouth and slid along her bottom lip it glistened in the dim light. There was a roaring in his ears. What on earth was happening between them? After the longest pause, Phoebe pulled her eyes away from his. It was excruciating.

  “I’ve made up a few of the rooms. If you need to stay too—it should be comfortable.” She pulled a face. “It just might not be too warm.”

  Matteo looked out of the window, trying not to let his brain go to the place it wanted to right now. Stay here? With Phoebe? The snow was falling even heavier now. The very last thing he wanted was to be stranded in this house. It didn’t matter that this room was warm and in
viting. It didn’t matter that the house was solid, that there was food and there were beds. It was this place. For him, the heat level was irrelevant; he would always feel a chill just being here.

  Phoebe reached up and touched his arm. Her warm fingertips sent a jolt through him. “Hey, you came to find something. Want some help?”

  “No.”

  The word came out before he had time to think and Phoebe jerked backward.

  “Sorry,” he said quickly as he ran his hand through his hair. He was being ridiculous. Even he knew that. He was looking for an album he’d never seen, in a house with dozens of rooms and a million cupboards. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. And help should be gratefully received.

  His stomach growled loudly. Phoebe pressed her lips together. “Unless you went grocery shopping, it’s cold pizza, or cold pizza.”

  He nodded and sighed. “I guess it’s cold pizza, then.” He walked over and sat down on the rug in front of the fire. The snow had started to pile against the window. His stomach gave a flip as he realized there was no way he was getting out of here.

  He looked down at the pizza. “What is this?”

  Phoebe gave him a challenging look. “It’s a mega meat feast with spicy hot sauce.” She raised her eyebrows. “Why did you think I needed the soda?”

  He nodded and licked his lips. “Okay then. I took you for a Hawaiian kind of girl.”

  “Ouch. Hawaiian is for wimps.”

  Matteo took a bite of the pizza. Within a few seconds the hot sauce hit his taste buds and his eyes started to water. “Wow.” It came out kind of high pitched and he followed it with a deep, hearty laugh and a cough.