by Alexia Adams
Luca stood on the front step, raking a hand through his hair. He stopped as Jonathan’s truck pulled up in front. His narrowed eyes searched the vehicle, and then her, as she jumped out of the passenger seat. He shoved both hands in his pockets, his face darkening as Jonathan got out, too.
As Sophia was about to introduce the two men, a tall, dark-haired woman came up behind Luca and put her arm through his. She was immaculately dressed in a gray, silk frock that hugged her luscious shape and ended mid-thigh, showing long, shapely legs.
“Hello, Luca,” Sophia struggled to keep her voice even. “I didn’t think you would be home yet. You said around dinner time.”
“I finished earlier than I expected and came home to see my wife, thinking she would be lonely. I did not know she would be wandering around with another man.” Luca’s voice was hard and there was no smile of greeting on his face.
“Oh, this is Jonathan Davis. He rescued me when I was lost in the village. He’s fixing up a place not too far from here, so he offered to drive me home.” She knew the words were coming out too fast, but she was fixated by the sight of the other woman’s arm through Luca’s. She’d never considered that perhaps her husband had a lover. “This is Isabella Carrero,” Luca introduced the woman standing next to him. Removing his hand from his pocket, he unlinked arms with Isabella.
“I offered Jonathan a drink for rescuing me,” Sophia explained as the Englishman climbed the stairs beside her.
“Yes, let us have drinks on the terrazza,” Isabella said, as if she were the lady of the house. Her voice was deep and sultry, her Italian accent more pronounced than Luca’s.
Luca led the way to the back of the house, taking Sophia’s hand in his as she passed. She wondered whether the display of possessiveness was a message to Jonathan, or a ploy to try to pretend the Italian woman meant nothing to him.
The terrace was in the shade; however the heat of the day still radiated off the stone floor, making it warm and comfortable. Baskets of flowers filled the air with a sweet scent. Dark wicker chairs, with terracotta colored cushions, were spread out in a U shape, allowing all to enjoy the view of the gardens. Isabella took the seat next to Luca’s, moving her chair closer to his. Sophia clenched her teeth, a slow burn starting in her stomach.
The peace and serenity of the gardens, which she’d enjoyed hours before, was shattered. How could she have been so stupid to believe Luca, a successful, not to mention gorgeous, man wouldn’t have a woman or two in the background? He’d said there weren’t any other women he would consider marrying, but that didn’t preclude other relationships.
“So, you are renovating a house near here?” Luca’s frosty tone hadn’t warmed at all.
“Yes, nothing as grand as this, though. Your home is beautiful,” Jonathan said.
“Grazie,” Luca answered.
Maria pushed a small drinks cart out onto the terrace and placed it near the chairs. Isabella jumped up and took over the role of hostess.
“What you like to drink, Sophia, Jonathan?” Isabella oozed confidence, sure of her place.
Luca frowned at Isabella. Was it because the other woman had paired Sophia’s name with Jonathan’s, or because his girlfriend was assuming a duty that should now be handled by his wife? Sophia was once again out of her depth, unsure of what to do.
“I’ll have a glass of white wine,” she answered, with as much composure as she could manage.
“A beer for me, if you have one,” Jonathan replied.
Isabella poured the drinks and handed them out. She then mixed a martini for Luca, without even asking what he preferred.
“Sophia, you must talk to your husband. He says he does not want to bring you to my party tomorrow so you can meet our friends.” A stabbing pain shot through Sophia’s body, paralyzing her. Isabella’s voice was silky, with no hint of jealousy, no concern for the agony her words caused. Isabella sat on the arm of Luca’s chair, having abandoned her own after preparing the drinks. “No one will believe you are married if you keep her hidden away in this little village.”
“I have no intention of keeping her hidden away,” Luca assured them. “But I am sure Sophia wants to settle in before meeting a lot of people.”
“No, you must introduce her right away,” Isabella insisted. “Or people will wonder why you waited. They will be shocked, like me, to find you are married. They will think it is not a proper marriage.”
“It is a very proper marriage,” Luca replied. He took a large swallow of his drink. His knuckles showed white where he gripped the stem of the glass.
“Luca, imagine the party your mother will insist you have when she finds out. If you tell her you have already had a party, then it will not be so bad. I am saving you, caro.” Isabella smiled at everyone, smug satisfaction written across her face.
Luca seemed to think over the plan, glancing at Sophia as if to gauge her reaction. Without knowing her place in his life, she was unsure how forcefully to protest. She didn’t want to start her marriage coming across as a diva.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she interjected as Luca made no further comment. It was the only thing she could think of to stop this party idea. The last thing she needed was to be inspected by Luca’s friends and acquaintances and found wanting—especially compared to Isabella.
“Ah, that is a little thing.” Isabella dismissed her concern with a wave of a hand. “We can go shopping for a dress … and shoes,” she said, glancing at Sophia’s well-worn footwear. “You are working tomorrow, yes, Luca? Or are you a changed man now that you are married? Staying at home on a Saturday to be with your wife?”
“I do have to make some site visits tomorrow. But I was going to take Sophia with me so she can see some of the country.”
“Dai, there is plenty of time for her to see the dusty roads and broken buildings you will show her. I am sure you can spare her for a day. Shopping is much more fun.”
“I don’t speak Italian. I won’t be able to talk with anyone.” She had to derail this party train before it crushed her.
“Most of our friends speak some English,” Isabella said, blocking off that avenue of escape. “Perhaps your rescuer could come as well.” She smiled at Jonathan, luring him into her web.
Jonathan sat there with a bemused expression on his face. “I am not sure I’d really fit in,” he replied, pointing at his tattered jeans.
“Oh, please come,” Sophia pleaded. If she was going to have to endure this party, it would be nice to have someone there for her.
Jonathan shrugged. “Alright then, I’ll come. I must be off now, though. I have to unload my truck before dark.”
“I will show you out,” Luca responded, a hint of a smile showing on his face at last.
• • •
Luca returned and stopped at the entrance to the terrace, allowing himself a moment to enjoy Sophia unobserved. She hadn’t gotten publicly upset when Isabella put her arm through his, although he’d noticed that she’d narrowed her eyes. Sophia hadn’t liked it. Which also made his heart a little lighter. Surely it indicated she felt something for him. He thought they’d been getting closer during their London phone calls, but it all seemed to have disappeared after they’d arrived yesterday.
Oh, she’d played the part of loving wife at the wedding ceremony. But instead of relief that she’d be able to fool his mother and friends, he’d been a little let down that it was all an act.
Sophia rose and put the empty glasses back on the drinks tray and wiped up the few wet spots on the glass-top table. Isabella had her head to one side, watching his wife.
“So, Sophia, how did you meet Luca? He has only been to London once in the past month.”
Sophia hesitated, twirling her wedding ring. He hadn’t seen her nervous often, but she definitely looked uncomfortable. What the hell was Isabella playing at? She was supposed to help ease Sophia’s transition, not make her want to go back to London.
He stepped onto the terrace and moved beside his
wife, putting his arm around her waist. Only the stiffness in her body stopped him from kissing her so fully, Isabella would walk out the door and forget her whole stupid party idea.
“Basta, Isabella, enough. Your husband must be wondering where you are.” If he thought knowing that Isabella was married would ease Sophia’s mind, he was mistaken. His wife pulled out of his arms and straightened the cushions on the chairs.
Isabella’s eyes darted between them before she let out an annoying laugh. “You are right. Dante does worry. And, I still have some last-minute things to sort out for tomorrow,” she said, rising from her chair. “It is okay that I take your car home, Luca? I will come and pick you up at ten tomorrow morning, Sophia, for our shopping. Ciao.” She strolled toward the door, not waiting for a response.
Sophia finished straightening the chairs and resumed her seat. She stared at her wine before taking a sip and then gazed toward the gardens, in effect dismissing him.
“I am sorry about that. Isabella does not understand the word ‘no.’ She never has. You can come with me on site visits next weekend,” he said, as he sat back in his chair. He wanted to take Sophia’s hand, but she pulled it off the armrest as he reached for it.
“It’s not the site visit I’m upset about. You expect me to go shopping for a party even you don’t want me to attend, with your … your … girlfriend?” Her voice shook and the hand in her lap clenched into a fist.
“Isabella is not my girlfriend, beyond the fact that she is a girl and a friend. We have known each other since school. There is nothing romantic between us. She is married, as am I.”
Sophia snorted but didn’t make any other reply.
“And who is this Jonathan? Do you expect me to believe that you just happened to meet him on your first day in the country?”
“Yes, I expect you to believe that. Because it’s the truth.” She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. He searched her face, trying to decide if she was lying.
“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 protest
ed.
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 previous 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.