by Alexia Adams
“And yet you do not believe me when I say the truth.”
“I guess we’re at an impasse then. I’m hot and dusty from my walk. I’m going to wash up before dinner. Are we eating again at eight?”
“Yes.”
She strode back into the house, not looking back.
He let out a sigh. This wasn’t how today was supposed to have gone. He was supposed to come home, find Sophia waiting, happy to see him. He’d planned a stroll through the village, maybe have an aperitif in the bar by the piazza. Then a walk home, eat an enjoyable meal together, and hopefully, maybe, a kiss or two to make a start on the physical side of their relationship. Instead, he’d come home to find she’d disappeared, then she’d shown up in the truck of a foreign man who she claimed had rescued her. Rescuing her was his job. He was the husband. Had he failed her already?
When Isabella had called to remind him of the party, he’d told her he couldn’t come now because he was married. She’d gone mental on him, racing over to his office and berating him in person for abandoning his bride in a foreign country where she didn’t speak the language. Isabella had then insisted they go to the villa immediately so she could meet Sophia. He never expected her to pull some power play, though. He’d have a word with her tomorrow. Isabella was his oldest friend who had made school life bearable. But he wouldn’t let her cause a misunderstanding between him and Sophia.
On the other hand, a party would inevitably mean he got to hold his wife in his arms, maybe even kiss her. It didn’t have to be such a disaster. He rubbed his hands together. Yes, this may work out after all.
Chapter 6
Sophia paced the hallway, listening to the clock in the front room tick away the minutes like a countdown to destruction. She jumped at the sound of Maria banging a pot in the kitchen. Despite being tired from her long walk yesterday, her mind had kept replaying the argument with Luca on the terrace, leaving her unable to sleep.
He was right. She had nothing to base her accusations on except her own insecurities. Today she’d discover if Luca and Isabella were lovers. And if they were, she’d be back on a plane before he could say the word “annulment.” There was a painful twinge in her chest, but she ignored it. Better to end the whole charade now before she got too used to this life. Too involved with Luca.
The roar of the Maserati’s engine in the drive alerted her to the arrival of Isabella for their “shopping” trip. She was pretty sure “shopping” was euphemistic in this case for “interrogation.” Well, she had some questions of her own to ask. She picked up her bag from the entryway table and stepped out into the spring sunshine.
Isabella slid out of the low-slung sports car with a grace and elegance Sophia could only dream of achieving. The beautiful woman wore a white dress that buttoned down the front and a pair of black stilettos. Sophia glanced down at her navy-blue skirt, aqua top and ballerina flats, and her throat tightened. Maybe she should just go straight to the airport now.
“Ciao, Sophia. I am pleased you are ready to go. We have a lot to do. Luca has already left?” She glanced to where the Land Rover was usually parked.
“Yes, he went hours ago. But he left me money and credit cards and a note to spend as much as I wanted.” She omitted the part about waiting in her room until she heard the front door close behind Luca to avoid a repeat of last night’s uncomfortably silent meal.
“Buono. I will give you the Maserati keys. My husband does not let me have a sports car. He thinks I will kill myself. So I have to steal Luca’s when I have the chance. Ah, here is my driver now.” A white Mercedes pulled into the drive, complete with uniformed chauffeur.
The driver jumped out and opened the doors for them. Sophia clambered in beside Isabella and took a deep breath.
“So, you think Luca and I are lovers,” Isabella said, before Sophia could even exhale.
“Did Luca tell you that’s what I thought?” Was nothing private in her marriage?
“He did not need to. I saw it in your face when you arrived home yesterday. You did not like it when I put my arm through his. And Luca did not like when you came home with another man.”
“No.”
“Let me ease your heart. Luca and I are friends, nothing more. We are not, and never have been, lovers. I am in love with my husband. When you meet him tonight, you will know. I am sorry for yesterday. I was rude on purpose. I wanted to see what you would do.”
“Did I pass your test?”
“Yes, with, how do you say, flying the colors?”
“Flying colors. But I don’t understand.”
“When Luca told me yesterday that he was married, I worried. He had not told me of any woman he was seeing, and I thought maybe you had tricked him into marriage. By pretending to be more than a friend, I wanted to see how you would react. If you were indifferent, then I would know that you did not care for Luca. If you had a fight right there, I would know you did not know him at all. Luca hates airing the dirty clothes in public.”
“We had a row after you left.”
“Good.”
Sophia examined the woman next to her. She couldn’t understand Isabella. Was she trying to help? “Good?”
“Oh, yes. Luca needs to be shaken. He has been in control for so long, he does not know how to react when things do not go his way. You need to keep him tipping over.”
“I think you mean off-balance.”
“Yes, that is it. And so to off-balance him, we are going to find a dress for you to wear tonight that will make him crazy.”
“Are you sure you’re Luca’s friend?”
Isabella’s rich laugh filled the car. “Yes, and I want to be your friend, too. So we must make sure you stay together. Marriage is not easy when the man always wants to be in charge. But it can be done.”
Four hours later, Sophia stood in front of a full-length mirror in an exclusive boutique and tugged on the hem of the dress she wore. Although dress was a generous word for what was, in effect, just a large, tight shirt. “I can’t wear this,” she protested.
Isabella cocked her head to one side, her perfectly manicured nail tapping on her crimson-stained lower lip. “No, it is not quite right. But we are getting closer.” She turned to the shop assistant and spoke in rapid Italian.
As far as Sophia could tell, they weren’t getting any closer. She’d tried on at least twenty dresses, some too long, some too short, some too revealing, others not revealing enough, according to Isabella. Whatever her new friend had in mind, she wasn’t going to settle until she found it. This was the third boutique they’d visited. At each, Isabella had been treated like royalty. Shopping was so much nicer when the clothes came to you.
“Ah, this one may work,” she declared as Sophia shimmied out of the last outfit. Another dress appeared over the door of the change room, although change palace may be a more apt word. No tiny fitting cubicles in this shop. There was even a sofa and mini fridge full of refreshments.
Sophia hung the dress on the hook behind the door and stared at it. She didn’t dare look at the price tag, sure it would make her hyperventilate. Carefully she removed the garment and tried it on. If this didn’t tip Luca over, nothing would.
“Perfetto,” Isabella declared when Sophia emerged wearing the dress. “Luca will not know what hit him.”
• • •
Luca shifted his weight and adjusted his tie, again. With one ear he listened to Stefano, his lawyer friend, with the other he waited for the sound of Sophia’s footsteps on the stairs. Isabella had insisted that Sophia make an entrance, but he didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark. She was his wife, damn it; he had a right to see her first.
Isabella had called him late in the afternoon to say that their shopping trip had taken longer than expected. So Sophia was going to get ready at Isabella’s place and they’d see him there. When he’d asked to speak with his wife, she’d laughed and asked if he thought she’d kidnapped her. But after the tight-lipped silence he’d endured through dinner the pre
vious night, he’d wanted to make sure Sophia was happy with that arrangement and hadn’t been coerced by Isabella’s forceful personality. Sophia had assured him that she’d had a great day and would see him later. As she’d handed the phone back to Isabella, Luca could have sworn he heard his wife giggle.
He’d rushed to get ready and was the first to arrive. Instead of being able to see his bride, however, Isabella had insisted that Sophia be left alone to rest.
Enough was enough. He wanted his wife at his side. This was, after all, why he married her. The little voice in his head laughed, but then went silent as a noise at the top of the stairs drew all eyes upward.
Luca’s heart fibrillated for a moment before racing. His mouth went dry and he pulled at his tie again, trying to get more air into his lungs. Sophia glided down the stairs, stopping halfway. Even from a distance he could see how the green of her dress brought out the amazing emerald color of her eyes. The gown was a mix of brocade and satin, wrapped around her body like a ribbon. Her delicate shoulders and collarbone were exposed by the strapless dress. And with her long, golden hair pulled up, the graceful column of her neck called out for his kisses. He shifted again, but this time to disguise the growing pressure in his trousers. Sophia looked as though she’d been gift wrapped. The perfect present.
“Prego.” You are welcome, Isabella murmured by his right shoulder before she ascended the stairs to meet Sophia halfway.
Isabella tapped a spoon against her glass, calling the attention of those few who weren’t already staring at Sophia. “Thank you all for coming tonight. I would like to introduce you to my new friend, and Luca’s bride, Sophia Castellioni. Sophia is from London, so we all get to practice our English tonight.” Isabella’s announcement was met with clapping and a chorus of congratulations in a mix of English and Italian. Stefano grabbed his hand to shake it, but Luca couldn’t take his eyes from Sophia.
Isabella whispered something into his wife’s ear. Sophia smiled and walked down the remaining stairs, stopping on the last one. He rushed over to her and took her hand in his, placing a kiss on the back of it. Because if he kissed her lips, it would take at least four men to pull him away from her.
“You are so beautiful,” he managed to say past a lump in his throat.
“Grazie,” she replied with another of her devastating smiles. She leaned toward him and he inhaled her intoxicating perfume. Her warm breath caressed his ear as she whispered, “Let’s party.”
• • •
Sophia sipped her Prosecco and listened to her husband, his hand resting at the small of her back, discuss the latest political scandal with several other party-goers. Every couple of minutes he’d lean down and ask if she was okay, if she needed anything, or if there was something she wanted to add to the conversation. He was the perfect husband, attentive and caring.
Isabella topped up Sophia’s wine glass again, and soon she was clinging to Luca, glad when his arm went around her shoulders and she could lean into his strong body. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, still somewhat amazed that she was with him. When she’d come down the stairs, Luca had been the only person she’d noticed. With his black suit, snow-white shirt, and crimson tie, he looked suave and incredibly sexy. Her husband. In name only—for now.
“It is warm in here. Shall we step out onto the terrace?” he whispered in her ear as the lawyer in their group droned on about some legislative fiasco that had recently been reported.
She nodded her consent, and Luca made their excuses and led her out the patio doors. Potted Lemon trees stood sentinel against the balustrade. Laden with scented blossoms, they glowed from the fairy lights twined in their branches. A bubbling fountain masked the sound of a hundred conversations in the house. They were meters from a crowd but felt alone. Sophia took a deep breath. This was romance. She didn’t know why she’d avoided it all her life. It was exquisite, addictive. A shiver swept through her.
“Are you cold?” Before she could respond, Luca peeled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then pulled her against him. His heart thudded under her ear, and she couldn’t help snuggling further into his embrace, her arms going around his waist so her body was flush against his.
“I’m good,” she replied, her voice refusing to rise above a whisper.
“Did you have a fun day? I worried that Isabella would be too controlling, especially when you did not come home.”
“No, we had a great time. I like her. I’m sorry for the things I said last night. I should have believed you.”
“Non è importante, as long as you are happy now.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She was happy.
“Luca, Sophia, some of the guests are leaving and would like to express their well wishes to you before they go.” Isabella’s voice barely penetrated the haze of bliss.
“We will come in one more minute,” Luca replied as if he, too, was reluctant to let go of this moment.
With a sigh she felt as much as heard, Luca led her back into the house for what became an hour of cheek-kissing, hugging, congratulatory good-byes. Finally there was just her, Luca, Isabella, and her husband Dante, left in the entranceway.
Wine glasses that had been abandoned or forgotten littered almost every flat surface. Napkins were tucked into crevices and plates were stacked in the oddest locations. The white hydrangea blossoms that had earlier stood proudly in their glass vases now drooped their heads in exhaustion. Yet a strange energy zipped through Sophia’s veins. She didn’t want the night to end.
“Come, let us sit in the snug. I think it escaped the worst of the devastation.” Isabella led them to a room at the back of the house, off the kitchen. Two comfy-looking sofas were arranged in a V-shape so all could enjoy the view of the moonlight garden through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Isabella plopped down onto one of the sofas with a loud groan. “Well, I think that was a success,” she said. She released the clips at the back of her hair and shook it out.
Dante appeared a moment later, having stopped in the kitchen. He carried a tray with two bottles of wine and four glasses. “Of course it was a success, tesoro mio. It did not dare be anything else,” Dante replied.
He poured the wine and passed the long-stem glasses around. “This is a special vintage from my grandfather’s vineyard. I offer a toast to a long and happy marriage for our friends, Luca and Sophia.”
“With lots of babies,” Isabella added, holding her glass in the air.
“Grazie,” Luca replied, his eyes focused on Sophia’s face. He took a sip of the wine, then placed the glass on the coffee table. Sitting back, he put his arm along the back of the sofa, behind her head.
“It was a lovely party, thank you,” Sophia said. Luca’s arm slid off the sofa and onto her shoulders. His fingers toyed with a loose strand of hair against her nape. Whether it was the wine, or his gentle, hypnotic caress, within five minutes she was snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder.
Opposite her, Isabella had taken off her shoes, and Dante reached down and began to massage her feet. They were an amazing couple. Throughout the day, whenever Isabella had spoken of her husband, her eyes had gone dreamy and a soft smile lifted her lips.
When Sophia had met Dante earlier in the afternoon, she’d been intimidated by the man’s size. Isabella had said her husband played rugby for the Italian national team, but he was even larger than she’d imagined. Within ten minutes, however, his gentle manner and ready laugh had put her at ease and all she saw now was a man desperately in love with his wife. Sophia had never seen such blatant affection—was it a rare thing or did she just not know the right kind of people?
The general discussion was about the party. Who looked older or younger, who had broken up or gotten back together. At some point Dante opened the second bottle of wine and refilled her glass. By then Sophia let the conversation flow over her as she cuddled into Luca’s warmth.
She’d just closed her eyes when a loud snore echoed thr
ough the room. Sophia sat up, worried the noise had come from her. Looking across at the other sofa, Isabella sat with her head thrown back, her mouth wide open. Dante chuckled before gently pulling his wife into his arms.
“Are you sure you do not want to stay the night? The guest room is all set up,” Dante offered.
“No, we had better get home,” Luca replied. Sophia had noticed that he’d stopped drinking a couple of hours ago, and his glass of wine that Dante had poured for the toast remained full on the coffee table.
Sophia clambered to her feet, only to find the floor had moved on her. She lurched against Luca. “Oh dear,” she murmured.
Luca laughed, then scooped her up in his arms. “Do not worry, I have got you.” He carried her to the front of the house, while Dante had Isabella in his arms.
“I wish we had a picture of this. Having to carry our wives after a party,” Dante said. “It would get us both out of the doghouse for months to come.”
“I wish,” Luca joked. “Buonanotte, Dante. Grazie.”
The cool night air refreshed Sophia for a moment. But as soon as Luca put her down to open the car door, she swayed against him.
“I think I’m drunk.” She tried to whisper but it came out very loud.
“Yes, I think you are,” Luca said from a distance.
She waited while he climbed into the driver’s seat and fastened her seatbelt. “I’ve never been drunk before. I kinda like it.” Everything tingled and all the tension of the past weeks had melted away.
“You may not like it so much tomorrow. I do not suggest you make a habit of it.” Luca started the car and soon the reflection of the street lights whizzing over the bonnet of the car made her dizzy, so she closed her eyes.
“Have I disappointed you? I don’t want to disappoint you. I disappoint everyone.” He’d placed his jacket around her shoulders, and she snuggled into the warmth, inhaling deeply of his citrus-sandalwood aftershave.
“No, you have not disappointed me. The opposite, in fact. You were amazing tonight. And besides, you are a cute drunk.”