“Come up to our room?” Pete asked but Meghan shook her head.
“You go, have a siesta. You’ll need to sleep that wine off if you’re to be fit for dinner. I thought I would go for a walk in the garden.”
Pete yawned and stretched his arms above his head. “Don’t get lost.”
She smiled at him. “I couldn’t lose this house if I walked for miles. In fact, I suspect it’s visible from the moon.”
She walked and walked, and the sun beat down relentlessly made her sweat and puff, but she didn’t care. She didn’t stop. Eventually, she had burned off enough energy that she thought she might be able to sit through another mind-blowingly uncomfortable family dinner.
In the end, it wasn’t so bad. Primarily, she was able to get through it because Tony had insisted she sit beside him. He monopolised her with long stories about his late wife, and Meghan listened patiently. As a doctor, particularly a paediatrician, she knew the importance of sharing grief. Besides, Esmerelda sounded like a firecracker.
“You know,” Meghan said as their main course of Sole and potatoes was brought out, “she sounds a lot like Pete, er, Pietro.”
Tony looked at her thoughtfully. “I hadn’t ever seen it like that but you are right. They had the same irrepressible zest for life and the same ability to make rash decisions.”
“Good hearts though,” Meghan softened his answer, smiling questioningly at the old man.
“Yes,” he acquiesced, watching his youngest grandson across the table. He was laughing extravagantly at a joke Marco was telling, slapping his leg, and Megs smiled affectionately as she watched him. Tony let his gaze drift to his oldest grandson, Matteo, and he sighed. That boy was too serious for his own good. He regarded him now, his face lined with worry, his eyes brooding. He seemed even more lost in thought than usual this weekend.
“I worry about my grandsons.” He confided quietly, lifting a mouthful of fish and tasting it. She waited for him to finish and explain. “Pietro has never found his way. We have waited for the penny to drop, as you English say, and for him to find what he wants in life. But year after year, it’s a new scheme. Another idea. He has no focus. No concentration.”
Meghan shook her head. Loyalty or not, she couldn’t deny it. “Why do you suppose that is?”
Tony shrugged. “I can’t say. His brother Matteo is the opposite. Even as a child he shouldered the weight of the world. He does everything he commits to at top speed, with the full force of his ability. That can be a burden, too. He never relaxes, never slows down, never just enjoys life.”
She coloured a little and sipped her water to hide her rosy cheeks. He seemed to be enjoying life just fine last night.
She was there for Pete, not Matteo, and she pushed him from her mind resolutely. “I wonder if Pete ever felt that there was no room for him to take on responsibility. If Matteo always had matters in hand.”
Tony narrowed his eyes at her. “Perhaps you are right.” He leaned towards her conspiratorially. “Pietro is right, you have beauty and brains. He is lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have him.” She corrected, and as she looked up, she found Matteo’s eyes burning through her. It was obvious from the cynical twist of his lips that he’d heard the last bit of their conversation. Her clear green eyes challenged him, but he said nothing, simply flicked his gaze away, past her, to the opposite wall.
After dinner, Meghan excused herself early. Whilst the others cracked open another bottle of champagne, she pleaded travel tiredness and disappeared upstairs. The truth was, she didn’t think she could handle any more of Matteo’s accusing stares. He’d told her he was watching her, and she certainly felt it.
She took her book out onto the small balcony and stared out at the moonlit bathed garden, stretching endlessly beneath her. The property had groves of fruit and olive trees and a rose garden, as well as a show garden that was so formally landscaped it would rival the Boboli gardens of Florence.
A noise caught her attention and she looked around, a small frown on her face.
On the balcony just metres away from her, stood Matteo, naked but for a pair of flimsy cotton boxer shorts. She should move inside, and quickly, but she couldn’t. She stared at him silently, her mouth dry. His hands were gripping the railing of the balcony, and like her, he was staring blindly at the gardens. His face, which she could just make out in the silvery light of the moon, radiated tension.
Holding her breath so he wouldn’t detect her presence, she let her eyes feast on his perfect form. His strong, muscled shoulders, tight abdomen, narrow waist. She gulped as she reached the area of his boxer shorts, memories assaulting her.
She remembered how those hands had felt on her body and she shivered. They’d been there less than twelve hours and already she felt like she was living in some sort of hell. How was she going to make it through the next three days?
She rose and tiptoed backwards but her foot connected with the iron leg of the chair and she exclaimed loudly. His head turned immediately towards her, his eyes flying wide with surprise.
Her face showed her guilt, and she turned from him immediately, groping behind her for the door. She disappeared inside and slammed it shut, sinking against it desperately. She fell to the floor with a muffled groan. What a fool she was being.
The next day, a picnic had been planned for the family, out amongst the grape vines and peach orchard. When Pete had been describing the weekend to her, in their small London apartment, this had been one of the imagined highlights. The idea of scavenging for fresh, sun-warmed stone-fruits on a hilly Mediterranean property had filled her with romantic ideas. Now, she dreaded it.
A whole day out in the garden with Matteo in close proximity filled her with nervous apprehension.
The sun was already beating through the windows with an intensity that promised a baking hot day ahead and Meghan tossed through her suitcase in frustration. She had planned to wear a skimpy pair of shorts and a halter neck top for this part of the birthday weekend, as Pete had assured her it was casual and relaxed. But the idea of Matteo seeing her in something so revealing made her feel appalled. She settled instead on her denim jeans and a pale yellow shirt, hating the feel of the fabric so close to her body on a summer’s day.
When Pete emerged from the bathroom he threw her an inquisitive look. “Don’t you think you’ll be hot in jeans?”
She shook her head determinedly. “No.”
He shrugged. “Your decision, of course.”
When they emerged downstairs, Nine and Giovanni had already wandered off, hand in hand, to set up a picnic in the perfect spot. Marco and Matteo were waiting on the front terrace. Meghan flashed a smile in their general direction but was careful not to look. It was enough that in her peripheral vision she could see Teo’s broad shoulders and muscular legs, as he stood, one foot resting on a chair. She swallowed nervously.
“Christ! What’s she doing here?” Pete muttered under his breath, and it was such a bitter comment for the man she knew to be unstintingly kind and considerate that she startled. She turned her head to follow the direction of his stare and in the distance, she saw a painfully elegant blonde sashaying towards them. The woman had legs that looked to go on forever, a chest a playboy centrefold would have been proud of, and skin the colour of just warmed caramel. Her blonde hair had been caught up in a chignon and not a single hair had defied the styling.
Teo threw Pete a warning look. “She is my assistant, Pietro. Some of us have to work for a living. Whilst I would like to join you on your never ending holiday, I cannot. I have responsibilities. And I could not get my work done without Sofia. You will remember your manners and treat her civilly.”
Meghan felt her temper rise and she longed to leap to Pietro’s defence, but there was obviously more going on here than she knew about. She slid her arm around Pete’s waist in a friendly gesture of support, and it did not go unnoticed by Teo.
“Pietro, ciao.” The blonde acknowledged with a formal t
ilt of her head before giving a megawatt smile to Matteo.
He introduced the blonde woman to Meghan as if there was not a single reason on earth Megs might feel uncomfortable. Oh, never mind the fact she managed to look effortlessly chic and cool on a day that was bound to break thermometers all over Italy. Never mind the way she placed a fire engine red talon on Teo’s arm, to draw his attention to something she was saying in rapid fire Italian. Assistant or not, this woman meant business, and Meghan did not mean the professional kind.
She slid her sunglasses down over her nose and linked arms with Pete, letting him lead her away from the group and towards the vines.
He had been right to question her outfit choice. After only a few hundred metres her skin felt like it could melt off her body, but she was too proud to admit as much. Instead, she threw her friend a sidelong glance. His usual demeanour had returned and he looked as though he had not a care in the world once more.
“Pete, you can tell me to keep my nose out of it, but who was that woman? And why did she upset you so much?”
He stared ahead, thoughtfully. He was quiet for so long that Megs thought he might intend to not answer her, but eventually, he said, quietly. “She was my fiancé.”
“Your fiancé!” Meghan was so shocked that she stopped walking. “How come you never told me you were engaged?”
“It’s ancient history,” he shrugged. “We broke up. Now, she’s Matteo’s dedicated personal assistant. And yes, I do mean personal. She follows him around like a puppy dog. You do the math.”
“I can’t believe it,” Meghan intoned hollowly, her heart breaking for her friend.
“Nor could I, but I’ve had two years to come to terms with it now.”
“What a pig of a man he is.” She fumed and he laughed.
“You’re about the only woman who’s ever seen it, but yes, he is.” Pete put his hand on the small of her back to propel her forward.
“Come, or they’ll catch us.”
Meghan threw a quick glance over her shoulder and saw that the other three were only a little way behind. Teo was staring straight at her and when her eyes met his, she hoped they communicated how poorly she thought of him. To steal his younger brother’s fiancé was bad enough, but lauding it over him by trotting her out at family functions was truly reprehensible. Never mind that she, Meghan, was overcome with a serious case of Green Eyed Monstery.
Finally, when Meghan felt like she was almost saturated with perspiration, they reached a stone wall and pushed through it. Beyond, was heaven on Earth. Gently rolling hills covered sporadically with grass and wildflowers, and lane after lane of fruit trees and vines, it was a perfect example of a forager’s garden, and despite the radiating sexual tension she felt, Meghan couldn’t wait to explore.
“Ah!” Nina welcomed, embracing Pietro with a hug and kisses, and then Meghan. “The young ones are here. Come, have some lemonade and rest.”
Meghan didn’t need to be told twice. She took a glass of the homemade liquid from Giovanni whose face was looking even more contented than usual today. “You must be very hot, Cara Meghan,” he observed, his brow furrowing as he observed her dark denim pants.
“A little,” she answered truthfully, “But we are here now.”
“I think it’s refreshing to see a beautiful young woman taking care to retain some modesty. It’s almost unheard of these days.” Nina pronounced kindly, handing a wide-brimmed straw hat to Meghan.
Matteo, who had detached from his blonde limpet and appeared at Meghan’s side, said sotto voce, “A little late for false modesty, isn’t it? Should I tell them about your green dress?”
Meghan’s cheeks flamed, but she wouldn’t look at him. “Delicious lemonade,” she compliment Giovanni instead and walked with as much poise as she could summon away from Teo and his hateful comments.
He had every reason in the world to think ill of her, but she didn’t need him to make her feel worse than she already did. Sure, she and Pete were just pretending to be a couple, but they were close friends, and if Pete found out that she’d done just exactly what the beautiful Sofia had done, then he’d be devastated. Knowing that part of the brothers’ history made her feel even more ashamed of her actions.
How awful it must be to grow up in the spotlight of such a spectacular person as Matteo. Whilst Pietro had many charms, Matteo was just one of those men who would dominate any room. He was a tough act for anyone to follow, and she understood now how Pete had come to believe he was undervalued and unappreciated. Unworthy, even. It made her tummy feel tied in knots, and she wished she could go back and undo that one night with Matteo.
Even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true. The ramifications were not pleasant, but that night had been one of the best moments of her life. She’d never known physical intimacy could be like that, and she doubted she’d ever meet anyone who could provide that same level of pleasure again.
He was a practiced lover, a cynical voice in her head chimed in. So what! He had probably practiced on half of Italy, including the beautiful Sofia. She was wiser to see that night as a mistake, albeit an enjoyable one, and chalk it up to experience. With any luck, she’d get through this weekend and then she’d never have to see him again. Pete would never need to know. The emptiness in her heart exploded at the idea but she knew she was right. Her life would be back to normal soon enough. Wouldn’t it?
She’d wandered away from the main group, and despite the heat, was enjoying the experience of being out in the orchard. She plucked a peach from a tree, feeling the warm, fuzzy flesh beneath her palm before she bit into it. Sticky juices ran down her chin and through her fingers and she laughed at the unexpectedly sensual pleasure. Biting into it again, she eased herself to the ground and lay back, propping on her elbows so she could stare out at the rolling hills, and the tiny terracotta coloured township beyond the lush green pastures of the Maratelli Villa.
Finishing the peach, she cast the stone aside, pitching it as far as her arm could throw. She watched its progress through the clear blue sky and heard it hit with a satisfying clunk a corner of the wall. She would have to rejoin the group eventually, but for now, it was so pleasant to be on her own. She lay back down on the grass, letting her hair fan out behind her, and shut her eyes. Birds were singing, leaves were rustling in the breeze, and her body temperature was finally returning to normal after the oven-like walk over from the house.
She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing Meghan was aware of was a tickle on the tip of her nose. She scrunched her face and swatted at it, then sighed heavily, trying to return to her slumberous state. The tickling started again, this time, at her cheek, and she opened her eyes in exasperation to find the bug that was bothering her.
Honey-coloured eyes set in a face she would never forget were staring down at her teasingly.
Startled, and embarrassed, she rolled onto her tummy and away from Matteo.
“What are you doing?” She whispered, scanning the trees for other members of their party.
“You fell asleep.” He observed thoughtfully, and then shrugged.
“And? You had to wake me?”
“No.” He tilted his head to one side as he watched her. “I simply found I couldn’t resist.”
She felt heat suffuse her cheeks and she pushed up to standing to cover it. Throwing him a warning look, she said forcefully, “Stay away from me. I know you have a habit of taking what’s Pete’s but it’s not going to happen here.”
He stood and grabbed her wrist when she would have walked off. “What are you talking about?” His voice was stony.
“Sofia.” She hissed, trying to wrench her wrist free. “Pete told me all about it. How his fiancé ended up as your assistant.” She said the word in such a way that made it obvious she thought Sofia was much more than just a business colleague.
He actually had the temerity to smile. Had she been hoping for a denial? Hoping in vain, apparently. “If I remember correctly, I didn’t have to take
you from Pete at all. You came most willingly.”
“A mistake I wouldn’t make again in a million years.” She bit out, finally wrenching her wrist free from him.
“Careful, careful, Meghan. That almost sounds like an invitation.”
“An invitation!” She spat, shaking her head furiously. “An invitation to what?”
“To prove you wrong.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“You disgust me!” She snapped, though her words had no force.
“Believe me, it’s mutual,” he responded conversationally. “Unfortunately, I think this is also mutual.” He put a hand behind her back and pulled her towards him, so that their bodies were intimately connected. He crashed his lips down into hers, kissing her hungrily, passionately, urgently, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and flicking hers forcefully. She hated him, but oh, how she needed him. Her traitorous body was instantly pliant against his. She melted against him as though she was little more than a wisp of fabric. She moaned low in her throat and her hands flew to his neck, her fingers ran through his hair.
It might have only lasted two seconds, and then he reached around and grabbed her hands, bringing them down and holding them between them. His eyes were like flecks of stone in his face as they glinted down at her. “Do not deny the force of our attraction again, cara mia.” He warned softly. “Or I will have to make another demonstration. And this one might not be so private.”
She turned her head away, stupidly feeling tears sting her eyes. “I don’t want to feel like this.” She whispered, biting down on her lower lip.
Matteo watched this beautiful, contradictory woman and felt a kick of despair in his gut. What was he doing? She was in love with his brother, in her own warped kind of way, at least. He had no business trying to break them up. No business trying to capitalise on a physical connection. She was right to be distancing herself from him, and yet he couldn’t let it go. For the first time in his life, Matteo found his actions were not being ruled by his head at all. It made him nervous, but it was also, frankly exhilarating. He knew that he wanted this woman more than anything else, and if it meant Pete would be mad at them, he wasn’t sure he even cared.
The Italian Billionaire's Betrayal: What if you fell in love with the one person you couldn't have? A story of forbidden love and overpowering need. Page 3