by Alexia Adams
He dragged his mind from the bedroom and helped her out of the low-slung sports car. “Come, I will introduce you to Maria and Vittore.” His hand found its way to the small of her back of its own volition.
“Who are they?” Sophia looked around as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Maria is the cook and Vittore is the gardener. They live on-site. The girl who cleans comes in from the village each day.”
“You have staff?”
“Of course, you do not think I brought you here to clean and cook, do you?”
“It’s a good thing, because I can only cook beans on toast and jacket potatoes.”
“That does not even qualify as cooking.” He winked.
• • •
Sophia wiped damp palms on her trousers. Staff? What did she know about directing staff? And what would they think of her, the bought bride who knew nothing of their language or culture?
They climbed the five stone stairs to the massive double front doors. Luca had to take his hand from her back to open the door with a massive ornate key.
“Shall I carry you across the threshold?”
She smiled at his effort to pretend this was a proper marriage. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
He looked almost disappointed. “Welcome to your new home.” He flung his arm wide and waited for her to enter first.
The entrance was wide and tiled in white marble. A round, wooden table stood in the center of the room with a large vase of fresh flowers. A curved staircase on the left side of the hallway led to an upstairs gallery. The walls were painted a pale cream and dotted with sepia-toned pictures of vineyards and olive groves. Understated elegance came to mind, but no hint of warmth or comfort.
“I will give you the quick tour and you can wander around at your leisure later.” Luca opened a door on the right, revealing a sitting room that looked stiff and uncomfortable. There was no hint of his personality. He continued through glass doors from the sitting room to a large dining room, furnished with a heavy oak table and high-back chairs. The furniture would fit in a medieval castle—an Italian villa, not so much. From the dining room they returned to the entrance hall through an arched doorway.
“That door leads to the kitchen,” Luca said, as though that part of the house was some foreign territory to which visas were seldom issued.
They crossed to a paneled door that led to another sitting room. This one was a lot cozier and the first room in the house where Sophia could imagine spending any amount of time. She pictured herself in winter time on the large, overstuffed cream sofa, snuggled under a blanket, reading a book with a fire crackling in the tall fireplace across the room. Or better yet, snuggled in Luca’s arms watching the firelight play across his handsome face. To distract herself from the fantasy, she moved over to the mantel to look at the photos displayed there.
“My mother,” Luca said, coming to stand close behind her, “taken on her recent wedding day. I have not told her about our marriage yet. There will be plenty of time for her to meet you later.”
She moved the frame so it was straight on the mantel and glanced up at Luca. Had he not told his mother because their marriage was simply a business arrangement to him, a transaction like purchasing a piece of property? Whatever the reason, she was relieved she didn’t have to deal with a mother-in-law at the moment.
“Let me introduce you to Maria.” He took her hand in his and walked through to the kitchen.
A couple were sat at the table, having a hot beverage and a slice of cake, but jumped up as Luca entered. A flurry of Italian followed, and Sophia took the opportunity to look around. The kitchen was gorgeous. Brass-bottomed pots hung from a rack above the marble-topped island. Bottles of oil with various peppers and spices inside were lined up on the counter like soldiers waiting for a call to duty. And the smell—her stomach rumbled with one sniff. The scent of a hundred homemade meals, cooked with love and attention, lingered in the air. She’d been too nervous to eat at lunchtime, and her body took the opportunity to remind her.
The couple approached and she shook hands with the elderly man. He looked about a hundred years old, but his handshake was firm, and he had a sparkle in his eye as he smiled at her. His wife was delightfully round, and rather than shaking Sophia’s outstretched hand, Maria enveloped her in a hug, kissing her on both cheeks while whispering something in Italian that she couldn’t understand. At least it sounded welcoming.
Luca’s mobile phone rang. He silenced it, then turned to Sophia with an apologetic smile. “Sorry to cut short the tour, but I have a deal closing this afternoon. I have to make a few phone calls now, if you will excuse me. Feel free to wander around. Do you want something to eat before dinner? Maria will be happy to make you a snack.”
“Perhaps a slice of cake and a coffee?”
Luca translated her request and Maria bustled over to the counter to cut a slice of cake. “Unfortunately, neither of them speak any English. But I’m sure you’ll find a way to communicate. Dinner will be at 8:00 p.m. I’ll see you in the front room then?”
“Okay,” Sophia replied. She took a deep breath to ease the pressure in her chest. Well, he’d warned her that business was his first priority. She might as well get used to it.
Luca kissed her briefly on the cheek before turning on his heel and leaving the room. She smiled at the elderly couple and took a seat at the table. Because she was unable to communicate with her companions, silence loomed long and large in the beautiful kitchen. Their faces were kindly as they sat with her, but she could sense their curiosity. It wasn’t every day their boss went out in the morning and returned with a bride.
Sophia finished the delicious lemon cake and coffee in record time. She needed a few minutes alone to process the day’s events. With a stammered, “Grazie,” she left the room.
She might as well explore. Maybe she should leave a trail of shiny pebbles to find her way back. Wandering back to the base of the stairs, she heard Luca’s deep voice in the room to the left. She poked her head around the door and discovered a massive office with one wall completely covered in bookshelves. A huge oak desk was piled with papers and an array of three monitors. Luca stood looking out the window, his back to the door, a phone held to his ear.
“Chet, I apologize that I did not return your call earlier. I was in London concluding some business there … Three weeks? Excellent. I will make arrangements for us to visit the properties I mentioned to you. Have you received the letter of intent? … Good, as soon as you return a signed copy, I will forward you the details … ”
Sophia retreated and returned to the entryway. Her stomach roiled and for a second she thought she might lose the lemon cake she’d just enjoyed. Their marriage was a business transaction to Luca. The late night phone calls, the flowers, the beautiful wedding dress he’d sent had been the sweetener to seal the deal. She’d started to believe that maybe he cared for her. Now she knew better. She was only another piece in his property portfolio.
Her suitcase sat beside the front door. She lugged it up the stairs as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Luca. A house this big had to have a variety of bedrooms. She was going to choose hers. If Luca wanted her in his bed, he’d have to make an appointment.
She left her case at the top of the stairs and started opening doors. The first room she tried was obviously the master. A huge, four-poster king-sized bed dominated the room. She quickly closed the door and strode toward the other end of the hallway. There were several smaller bedrooms, decorated in pale shades of blue, green and pink. She was a bit like Goldilocks, searching for the room that was just right.
At the end of the corridor, she opened a door to a bright room decorated in hues of yellow. A large, shiny brass bed with a white chenille bedspread sat against the opposite wall. Sophia looked around the room in appreciation. It was bigger than her whole flat in London. Double doors led out onto a balcony. On the other side of the room, another door was open, through which s
he could see a large tub and shower enclosure. This was it. She retrieved her suitcase from the top of the stairs and then unpacked her few belongings.
It was only six o’clock, so she stepped out onto the balcony. The house was so cold, the air-conditioning set on high, it was wonderful to move into the warm, spring evening. The scents of thousands of blossoms wafted up, surrounding her.
Leaning on the deck railing, she checked out the gardens. The flower beds were immaculate, well-loved by Vittore, no doubt. The house and grounds were more than she ever imagined. She couldn’t help feeling, however, that something was missing. It was more than just badly chosen furniture and a lack of personal touches. The villa lacked the very essence of what it took to make a house a home. The word love came to mind, but she pushed it aside. She’d deal with the décor later. For now she had to work out how she was going to tell Luca he wasn’t getting any tonight.
As she washed and changed for dinner she caught sight of her scars in the mirror, a reminder of her past. It was the invisible scars of feeling worthless and helpless that still plagued her, although she hid them as she did her visible marks. But every once in a while they’d surface, and she’d be a frightened girl unsure of her place in the world. So until she was certain Luca saw her as a person, not a thing, she would sleep alone.
At five minutes to eight, Sophia stepped into the front sitting room. She’d changed into a green dress that echoed the color of her eyes. Her hair was still up from the wedding, and by reapplying her lipstick and refreshing her makeup, she felt she made a presentable picture.
The room was empty so she wandered over to the front window. Luca’s car sat in the drive like an exclamation point to the luxury of the house. Seven years ago, when she’d run from her parents’ home, she’d lived on the streets, often sleeping behind a dumpster. This new start would bring no such discomfort. Still, she felt more out of place now than she had as a homeless teen.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she turned to find Luca watching her. He stared at her for a moment more, and when his gaze fixed on her hands, she realized she’d been pleating the fabric between her fingers.
“Buona sera, bellissima. Would you like a drink?” He walked over to the drinks tray set on the sideboard. He hadn’t changed out of his suit but had removed his tie and undone a couple of buttons on his shirt. He looked sexy and powerful, and she had to clear her throat before she could speak.
“Um, no thank you. Perhaps I’ll have a glass of wine with dinner.” She was already dizzy enough with him near.
“Relax, cara. I am not going to eat you.” His lips said the words but the heat in his eyes as they roved over her body belied his statement. Warmth flushed through her, settling in her lower abdomen, and for a moment she rethought her plan of having her own bedroom.
Maria entered the dining room and placed a large platter on the table. She opened the glass doors into the sitting room and said something in Italian to Luca before leaving.
“Dinner is ready,” Luca translated. “Shall we eat?” Already his hand had found its way to the small of her back and was steering her toward the table through the open doors. He pulled out her chair and waited for her to be seated before sitting at the head of the table. Maria returned and placed a tureen on the table and quietly said something to Luca as she left the room.
“Please, help yourself,” he said as he removed the cover from the platter. The first tray contained an assortment of cold meats, pickled artichokes, olives, and breads while the tureen held minestrone soup. He poured her a glass of wine as she filled her plate. The delicious soup had clearly never seen the inside of a can. The aroma of fresh herbs and homegrown vegetables impressed Sophia with each spoonful. As she finished, Maria returned, carrying a heaped bowl of pasta, which she placed on the table and then spoke quietly to Luca before retreating.
“I tried to learn a few Italian phrases before I came, but obviously I have a lot to learn. Did I do something wrong?” Sophia inquired.
“Not at all. Maria was commenting on your good appetite.”
“The food is so delicious. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so good.”
“I will pass on your compliment when she brings the main course in,” he replied, a hint of laughter in his eyes. The warm, human Luca was back. He’d left the businessman in the office.
“The main course? What is this then?” Sophia pointed at the heaped bowl of pasta.
“This is the second course. First was antipasto and soup, then pasta. The main course is cotoletta, which is breaded veal, and polenta, I believe she said. Then dessert and cheeses and fresh fruit, if you wish.”
“You eat like this every night? I’m amazed you’re not thirty stone!” She admired his lean, muscular form.
“I rarely eat at home. Maria is trying to impress you with a special meal.”
“Well, I am impressed, but please tell her that I can’t eat like this every night. I’m used to having a sandwich for dinner. One course is all I need, if that. If you don’t eat at home, why do you have a cook?”
“Maria and Vittore came with the house, so to speak. When I bought the place the previous owner asked if I would hire them. They have lived and worked here for almost forty years. During the renovation, Maria kept the workers well fed. This was my crew’s favorite job site,” he explained.
“As you have a cook, cleaner, and gardener, I guess there’s not much for me to do around the house,” she mused, wondering how she was going to fill her days. Having worked two, sometimes three, jobs at a time for the last five years, and studied or done charity work in any spare time she had, she wasn’t used to being idle.
“You will find something to fill your time. Milan is one of the world’s fashion capitals. I am sure you will enjoy shopping,” Luca replied.
“I suppose so,” she agreed absently. She wasn’t much of a shopper. Then again she’d never had money to shop with before. One thing she really needed to do was learn Italian. She couldn’t sit in stilted silence with the cook and gardener while Luca was away at work all day.
The rest of the meal passed in pleasant conversation. Luca told her about the state of the property when he first bought it and the renovation process. “I didn’t choose the furniture or decorative items. So if there is anything you want to change, do so. I am not attached to anything, except my study,” he said.
When Maria brought in the dessert and coffee, Sophia thanked her for the delicious dinner. Marie beamed as she left the room. But it also signaled the end of the meal. Sophia’s hand shook as she stirred some sugar into her coffee.
“I think you have made a conquest there,” Luca noted. “Shall we have our coffee in the sitting room?” He rose and picked up her cup.
Sophia sat on the bright red sofa and tried to get comfortable. The seat was too wide, so she couldn’t lean against the back without having her feet stick straight out like a child’s. And it was so low to the floor that if she sat forward her legs splayed out like a crushed spider. She wondered if it was bought for no other reason than because it was the most expensive one in the store.
Luca sat next to her and handed her the coffee. Tangible electricity flowed between them. The butterflies in her stomach turned to sparrows and threatened to bring up the delicious dinner with their out-of-formation flying.
Glancing at Luca’s face, she recognized the raw passion and stared at the coffee cup in her hands. She started to speak, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Um, Luca, there is something I should tell you … ”
He looked at her, his eyebrows raised, as if wondering what terrible secret she could be about to reveal.
“I’m a virgin—I haven’t had, um, sex before,” she blurted out. “And, well, we’ve not really spent a lot of time together. I want to wait until I know you better before we share a bed. I’ve put my things in the yellow bedroom.”
Chapter 5
Luca swallowed. Disappointment warred with elation. He wouldn’t be an Ital
ian male if he wasn’t pleased to know his wife had never been with another man. But all day he’d been anticipating tonight, when he could remove the pins from her hair and watch it tumble down her naked back. Feather kisses down her long, graceful neck until he came to her pert breasts … Perhaps if they repeated the kiss they’d exchanged at the registry office, Sophia would change her mind about delaying their wedding night.
No. She needed time and he would respect her wishes. They had years and years together. He could wait—if it wasn’t too long. It seemed his rule on not sleeping with married women extended to his own wife.
Hopefully, the delay was only a temporary setback and would be resolved before the Wilkinses arrived. He hadn’t felt it right to tell Chet he’d not returned his calls sooner because he was getting married. There was already going to be enough speculation by his friends and associates about his quick marriage. Most, he knew, would assume Sophia was pregnant. In a way it would have made the whole situation more understandable. No one would believe he hadn’t even slept with her yet. He’d have to rely on her acting ability to see them through any difficulty. She’d been amazing during the wedding photos, even had him believing for a moment theirs was a love match. Even more surprising was the fact he hadn’t had any difficulty pretending to be enamored with her, either.
Now, gazing at her beautiful face, he doused his desire. “I understand. This has all been rather sudden. When I make you my wife in more than name, it must be something you want as much as I do.” He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Liquid heat shot through his veins. Control yourself, it’s just a kiss, the voice in his head tried to reason. He resisted the urge to taste her deeper, or allow his hands to explore her soft curves. With a low groan, he pulled away.
Sophia’s chest rose and fell rapidly and a dazed expression clouded her eyes. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now. See you in the morning?” Her voice was husky.
Dio, he hoped it wouldn’t be long before they shared a bed. “I must leave very early for work tomorrow. I will try to be home for dinner. So I will see you then. If you need anything, call me at my office.” No wonder she didn’t want to sleep with him. He was a boring businessman. Problem was, he didn’t know how to be anything else.