Matteo shrugged and held out his hands. “Because we never use it. You’re right. It is a great property, but when anyone from the family is in Italy we are generally down at the villa in Tuscany where the vineyards are. In the last year I think someone from the family had used this villa for less than two weeks. We only stay here for the odd day on business. It doesn’t make sense to keep the house any longer.”
Phoebe gave a nod. “It just seems such a shame.”
Matteo turned back to her. “So, what do you think? Can you can dress this place to sell?”
Phoebe nodded. “Without a doubt. And you’re right. It won’t take much.” She gave a little smile. “Because this has been a family home, it really just needs a little...” she tried to find the right word “...streamlining.”
Matteo raised his eyebrows. “You mean decluttering?”
She smiled. “I might. The selling point for this house is actually the frescos. Everything else just needs tailing back to let them shine. And I need to help with the flow of the house. That can be done easily by having one color palette throughout the house. I think cream would work best with a few little splashes of red. That will complement the tiled floor and the frescos.”
Matteo nodded. “I think that could work.” He slipped his jacket off. “Which room would you like?”
“Excuse me?”
“Which room? You can pick any one you like.”
“We’re staying here?”
He looked surprised. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d told you that. I imagine you want to get some sleep. Even for a few hours? Then perhaps I can take you to one of the warehouses in Rome. I had my PA search out places similar to the one in New York. I thought it would save some time. Then, we can have a late dinner.” He gave a soft smile. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find somewhere in Rome no matter what time it is. I know you think New York is the city that never sleeps, but give Rome a chance, I think you’ll like it.”
She wasn’t quite sure what to say. “You seem to have everything planned.”
He nodded. “I feel at home here. So, pick a room. Which one did you like best?”
She tilted her head. “Isn’t one of these rooms yours?”
He waved his hand. “That doesn’t matter. I’m happy to sleep in any of the rooms.”
She gave a smile and a small nod. “In that case, I’ll take the room at the back that looks out over the garden.”
“The one that can give you a glimpse of the Coliseum?” He smiled knowingly.
“And the one with the huge canopy over the bed and the ceiling fan.”
He laughed. “It’s all yours.”
She glanced at her watch. “What time should we get up?”
There was a pause as Matteo met her gaze with an amused expression. Blood rushed to her face. What time should we get up? She hadn’t meant it like that, but sheer exhaustion was obviously taking its toll.
She shook her head as Matteo put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get someone to wake you around 1:00 p.m. If we sleep too late,” he emphasized the word with a glint in his eye, “it will knock off our body clocks.”
“I guess you’re right.” She looked around for her bag, but Matteo shook his head. “Don’t worry. Carlo, the driver, has taken it up to your room.” He paused for a second. “And, Phoebe?”
“Yes?”
He bent down to her ear. His voice was quiet. “Today I think you were exceptionally brave. You should be proud of yourself.” He brushed a kiss to the side of her cheek, “Sleep well,” he said before disappearing down the corridor.
Phoebe stood in the perfect silence. Outside she could hear the rustle of trees and the chirping of birds. The citrus smell of lemon and orange was drifting through the house.
Maybe it was fatigue, or maybe it was the setting, but Matteo seemed different here. More relaxed. More...accessible.
She put her hands up to her face. The kiss was nothing. A gesture of sympathy. Or maybe of friendship.
She walked up the stairs slowly and crossed into the airy bedroom. The shutters were wide open, allowing her a tiny glimpse of the Coliseum. She smiled. Dressing this house would be a joy and a pleasure.
And maybe something else...
* * *
He’d wanted to kiss her. First, on the plane when she’d been so upset. But that had hardly seemed appropriate when she’d mentioned the loss of her fiancé. Then second, when her eyes had lit up with pure pleasure at the house.
Her excitement was palpable. And it felt infectious. No matter how worried he was, no matter how many other things he had on his mind, being around Phoebe just seemed to make the world feel a little more right.
She’d been in the villa five minutes before she’d been able to visualize what she could do to make some improvements. And she’d been right. He’d known that instantly.
A few hours later he was showered, changed and only slightly jet-lagged. Phoebe appeared a little more tired. Dressed in a bright pink dress with a light cardigan, her bag on her arm and a notepad in her hand, she seemed ready to go.
“Would you like to have some brunch?” he asked.
She shook her head and put her hand on her stomach. “I’m feeling a little queasy to be honest. Give my body time to realize what zone it’s in.” She pulled a bottle of water from her bag. “I’ll just stick to this for now.” Then she glanced around. “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re much more used to traveling than I am. Do you want to have brunch?”
Her openness was so refreshing and his heart gave a little twist. Brave. That was what else Phoebe was. But it wasn’t her most obvious trait until you got to know her. Was that what had happened to him? He’d got to know her?
Phoebe had shared probably the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She’d also showed him that fears could be conquered if you really faced up to them.
He could learn a lot from Ms. Gates. He still hadn’t had that conversation with Brianna. Every day, time grew shorter. His sister had experienced enough during this pregnancy; at the end she was hoping and praying for a healthy baby—and so was he. But he was also hoping for a happy, healthy sister.
Brianna had no idea what had happened to their mother. She couldn’t possibly understand that the happy, well-balanced woman had acted strangely after the delivery of her third child. Matteo hadn’t understood it himself. He just remembered her shouting and acting irrationally. But those memories were fuzzy. Because his father had tried to shield him from the worst of it.
As an adult he understood a lot more. Postpartum psychosis had been a little-known diagnosis thirty years ago. His mother had no history of mental health problems. So, her disintegrating mental capacity had bewildered those around her. The sudden paranoia, delusions, severe confusion and manic behavior had been confusing for her friends and family. The ultimate tragic outcome, overdosing on medication and leaving a suicide note, telling her husband how she couldn’t bear the thoughts she was having—thoughts of harming her new baby—was quietly hushed up. It was years before Matteo finally put the fragments of his memories together in his brain, and when he had, his father had begged him not to tell anyone else.
But he should tell someone else. He should tell Brianna. Because Brianna was more at risk. Postpartum psychosis could run in families. And from the day and hour his sister had told him she was pregnant, he’d thought about nothing else.
“Matteo?” Phoebe was standing directly underneath him, her hand touching his wrist and her light floral scent floating up around him. Her dark eyes were fixed on his. “Matteo, are you okay?”
He nodded and gave himself a shake. Focus. That was what he needed to do. “Sure. Everything’s fine. Are you ready to see Italian-style warehouses?” He crooked his elbow toward her and she gave a smile as she slid her hand into place.
“Lead the way. I can’t wait.”
* * *
It seemed that Italian warehouses were very like the ones in New York. A few hours of serious shopping seemed to get her most of the things she would need to dress the gorgeous home. By the time they’d finished, the sun was a little lower in the sky and the air a little closer. Matteo made arrangements to get all the goods shipped directly to the villa.
Rome was a bustling, vibrant city. She was here to do a job, but part of her wanted to steal away on one of the open-topped buses to see the sights of the city. What chance would she ever have to come back here?
Phoebe licked her lips and looked around. She’d got on a plane. She’d actually got on a plane. And in a few days, she’d have to do it all again. Part of that made her stomach flip-flop. And part of that made her proud. Jason would have been proud of her. Her mother was proud of her. And, she was proud of herself. Even if she was still a little terrified.
It seemed that in the last few weeks she’d made more progress than she had in the last three years. Her first kiss. Her first connection. Her first plane ride. And the one constant thing was Matteo Bianchi.
He turned toward her. “I know you’re probably tired, but it’s best if we try and stay up late, to try and get into the time zone. How about some dinner and some sightseeing?”
Phoebe raised her eyebrows. “You’re actually going to let me see a little of Rome?”
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Only the most important parts.”
A little tremble snuck down her spine. “Am I dressed appropriately?”
His smile reached from ear to ear. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re perfect.”
* * *
When the car pulled up outside the Coliseum bathed in the oranges and reds of the setting sun, Phoebe almost couldn’t breathe. She twisted in her chair in excitement. “Is it still open? Can we still go in?”
Matteo gave a nod as the car door opened. “Oh, we can do more than that.”
The ancient monument towered above her. Matteo walked around the car and held his hand out toward her. She couldn’t help but stare up in wonder as she slid her hand into his. Tingles shot up her arm as Matteo pulled her toward him and slipped his arm around her waist. He held his other hand up to the magnificent structure. “Some of the outer wall has crumbled, due to earthquakes and stone robbers. What you see now is mainly the old interior wall.”
Phoebe held her hands in front of her chest. “It’s just huge. You can’t really understand the size until you’re standing right here.”
Matteo was still smiling at her. “Can you imagine what this was like? Eighty thousand people crammed in here, shouting, watching the main event—watching the gladiators?”
His words sent a thrill down her spine. There were other people around, late tourists who looked as if they were heading home for the night.
“Can we really go inside?”
Matteo’s gaze connected with hers. “Let me give you a special tour. Then we can have dinner.”
She stared at him for a few seconds then nodded with excitement. Matteo led her to a special entrance and she held her breath as she walked inside.
There were only a few people left inside the structure. The illumination from the setting sun was a perfect backdrop of orange with streaks of lilac. Phoebe took a few tentative steps forward.
Matteo held out his hands. “Most of the arena floor is gone now—as is a lot of the seating. It was arranged strictly by social status.” He raised his eyebrows, “Boxes at the North and South ends for the Emperor and the Vestal Virgins, podiums at the same level for the senatorial class.” He gave a little wink. “They could bring their own chairs, you know.”
Phoebe let out a laugh. “Really?”
“Really.” He pointed to the next row up, “This was for the non-senators or knights, the one above that was for ordinary Roman citizens, split into two parts, one for the rich and one for the poor.”
Phoebe gave a nod as she glanced around in wonder. “Hundreds of years on, and we’re still obsessed with social class. You’d think we’d be past all that now.”
Matteo looked at her thoughtfully. “I know. We should be.” They moved a little further into the amphitheater. He pointed out some other parts. “There were specific sections for other people. Boys with their tutors, scribes, priests, soldiers on leave and foreign dignitaries.”
“Where did the women get to sit, then?” asked Phoebe. “The ones who weren’t vestal virgins.”
Matteo shook his head. “You might guess. The other women were allowed to stand with the slaves or the common poor.”
Phoebe gave a nod and kept looking around. “Well, I love the wonder of the place. I love the structure. The architecture.” She spun around, holding her hands out. “But I’m not sure that I agree with the history of the place.”
Matteo held out his hand again. “Come on, I’ll show you some more history.”
His hand held hers firmly as he led her down some steps. It was darker down here, with some dim lights that only added to the mysterious atmosphere. He gave her a knowing smile over his shoulder. It was colder down here. Threatening. But the warmth from his hand was reaching up all the way to her heart. This was a wonderful surprise. Something she could only have dreamed of. Matteo had done this for her?
He lowered his voice as they walked slowly. “This is the hypogeum. It literally means underground. Two levels with a subterranean network of tunnels and cages underneath the arena where the animals and gladiators were held.”
Phoebe stopped walking. “That makes the gladiators sounds like prisoners. I thought the Romans treated them like heroes?”
Matteo pulled a face. “It was complicated. There was a gladiator training school, ludus magnus, just outside the Coliseum. The gladiators could come straight through the tunnels to get here. They didn’t need to walk with the crowds. Some were volunteers, and some were slaves. Stories about them fighting for their freedom are greatly exaggerated.”
Phoebe looked around and rubbed one hand over her arm. All of a sudden this beautiful place gave her chills.
“You okay?”
She gave a small smile. “Maybe just a little overwhelmed. People died here. For sport. I know it’s glorified, but suddenly it all seems so real.”
Matteo nodded and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go back upstairs.” His arm felt entirely natural there. More than comfortable. It certainly wasn’t comfort that was flooding through her veins right now.
He took her up a few flights of stone stairs and walked her out to one of the upper levels. There, sitting in front of her, was a table covered in a white linen cloth with candles flickering on top of it.
It was as if the world stopped.
“What...?”
Matteo walked over and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat, Phoebe. We can look over the rest of Rome as we dine.”
She blinked, wondering if any second she was actually going to wake up. “Wh...when you said we were going for dinner I imagined we were going to a restaurant somewhere.” She looked around again, not quite believing what she was seeing. The sky had darkened around them, and yellow lights were illuminating the arches of the Coliseum. “I didn’t think we would be eating dinner...” she waved her hands “...here.”
For a second Matteo looked worried. “You want to eat somewhere else?”
She shook her head as she strode over. “No. Of course I don’t.” She sat down quickly and a few seconds later her glass was filled with wine and an entrée salad appeared in front of her.
She looked around once again. There was a waiter. But she couldn’t see another single person.
“Where is everyone?” she whispered.
“Oh,” said Matteo easily, “we have the place to ourselves. The evening tours have just finished and the Coliseum has closed its door to the public.”
Phoebe lifted her fork and took a
breath. “Matteo, just how rich are you?”
He winked at her. “Not rich at all. Haven’t you heard? I’m selling two houses.”
She let out a laugh and tried her food. “Did you get them to build a whole kitchen for you too?”
He held up his hands. “You got me. I sweet-talked a local chef at my favorite restaurant.”
Now she put down her fork. “You sweet-talked someone? You? Matteo Bianchi? You actually know how to sweet-talk?”
He gave an embarrassed shrug. “Sometimes, I can be nice.”
She kept a hint of teasing in her voice. “Just not to me.”
He looked at her warily. “I might have been...short with you. But that’s all. You think I haven’t been nice to you?”
She could see the hint of worry in his eyes. She held out her hands. “Matteo, we’re sitting in the Coliseum, in Rome, having a private dinner.” She picked up her wine glass and gave an appreciative nod. “I think we can put this one in the nice column.”
He sighed as he picked up his wine glass too. “Well, thank goodness. I don’t know if we could have made it to the Leaning Tower in time for dessert.”
She smiled and leaned across the table toward him, clinking her glass against his. “Hmm... Pisa, now there’s a thought.”
“You want to visit Pisa too?”
She shook her head. “Not right now. In my lifetime? Yes, I’d love to. But right now, I’m just getting over the shock of finally getting back on a plane and completing a journey.” She picked a little at her salad. “You know, it wasn’t quite as bad as I thought.”
“No?”
She leaned back in her chair as she studied the beautiful surroundings. “No, it wasn’t. It was more just the thought of it. All the fears. The expectations. I knew they were irrational. The sensible part of my brain could tell me that.” She met his dark gaze and gave him a smile. “I just had problems listening to it.” She tilted her head to the side. “I’m not promising I won’t be terrified on the way home.”
The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride Page 12