by Alexia Adams
When she finally extricated her phone, the caller display said “Luca Office.”
“Hello?” Hopefully he’d ascribe the breathlessness of her voice to some physical activity. He’d come home late last night, long after she’d gone to bed. And she’d slept in this morning. So she hadn’t seen him since the encounter in his office two nights ago. If he was cancelling their honeymoon, maybe she would join Isabella at Dante’s tournament in Ireland.
“Sophia, you must move your things into my bedroom. Quickly, before dinner.”
“Umm, why?” They’d been married a month and now he suddenly was demanding that she sleep with him? Her independent hackles rose while her lower body tingled.
“My mother has found out about our marriage, and she is flying in this afternoon. I have to pick her up from the airport at four o’clock. Chiara, my secretary, is away and the temporary secretary has only now given me the message.” There was a slight panic in his voice.
“And you don’t want your mother to know you’re not sleeping with your wife?”
“Please, Sophia. You do not understand about Italian mothers. They are insane. Especially when they have only one son. We can pretend we are in love, like we did at the party.”
She’d woken up naked the next day then, too. Her three days had become six hours.
“I take it you’ll be home for dinner, then.”
“Yes. See you later, amore. And, Sophia, we will not do anything you do not want. Okay?”
The question wasn’t what she wanted to do but whether she had the guts to do it. In the meantime, however, she had to get ready for her mother-in-law’s inspection.
She hurried to find Maria and alert her to the extra guest for dinner. Usually, Sophia ate with Maria and Vittore in the kitchen when Luca wasn’t home, which was most nights. Tonight, however, they’d eat in the dining room. Then she had to find Teresa, the cleaning girl from the village, and instruct her to get her bedroom ready while she moved her things into Luca’s room. Sophia ignored the shaking in her hands and raced toward the house.
She took a deep breath and opened the door to Luca’s bedroom, their bedroom. Teresa was still downstairs, washing the entryway floor, so Sophia went over to make the massive, king-sized bed. The crisp, white sheets had been tossed back, and she imagined Luca throwing them off before rolling out of bed. Did he wear pajamas? She looked around but couldn’t see any. Did he sleep naked? The tingling in her belly started all over again.
She held Luca’s pillow against her face for a moment to breathe in the sandalwood scent he wore. As she smoothed the sheets, she bit her lip at the possibility of wrinkling them tonight. Her heart raced and the tingling spread downward to the back of her thighs.
With a last caress of the pillowcase, she turned away from the bed and the unnerving thoughts associated with it. A large walk-in wardrobe led off a hallway to the left. Luca’s clothes were neatly arranged to one side; however, there was plenty of room left for her few belongings. The small hallway opened up to a massive bathroom with a large marble tiled shower, claw-foot tub and twin sinks. The suite was very masculine and seemed to be one of the few areas of the house that reflected Luca’s taste. Thankfully, the ex-girlfriend hadn’t picked out the furniture for this room.
After moving her things, she instructed Teresa to get the yellow bedroom ready for guests. It was the nicest one in the house, apart from the master, and she was sure Luca’s mother was used to sleeping there when visiting. To keep her mind off her mother-in-law’s imminent arrival, she spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, helping Maria prepare the meal, which would be as elaborate as the one served on her first night at the villa.
Hours later, Sophia stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom. She had no idea what to wear to meet her mother-in-law, finally deciding to go for a soft, blue-gray knit dress, one she’d bought during a shopping spree with Isabella. She hoped it said elegant and confident, neither of which she was feeling at the moment. Maria had assured her that Luca’s mother was a kind woman. However, Sophia wasn’t too sure how she would react to meeting Luca’s fatto compiuto bride.
Ready early, she tried to read but couldn’t concentrate on the words. When she heard the unmistakable growl of the Maserati’s engine, she moved into the front hallway where she fiddled with the flowers in the vase on the table.
The door swung open and a tall, stylish woman with short, black hair swept in. A light gray trouser suit emphasized her lean form. Once again, Sophia was out-classed. Dark brown eyes surveyed her, as one would a strange dog to ascertain whether it was friendly or not.
“Mama, this is Sophia,” Luca said, coming to stand beside his wife, his hand on her lower back. “Sophia, this is my mother, Giada Tellier.”
The Italian greeting she’d practiced all afternoon shriveled on her tongue. “I am pleased to meet you,” Sophia ventured in English. A faint pressure from Luca’s hand at her back propelled her forward, and she hugged her mother-in-law as she’d seen most Italians do when they greeted family or friends. “You must be exhausted from your trip. Would you like to freshen up before dinner, Signora Tellier?”
“You must call me Giada, or Mama,” the older woman replied. “And, yes, I would like to wash. I am in the yellow bedroom to the right, yes?” she said, already ascending the stairs. “Luca please bring up my bags—after you have properly greeted your wife, of course,” she added as Luca took Sophia into his arms.
Luca kissed Sophia, his lips gentle and coaxing. But as soon as his mother’s door closed, he pulled back. His affections really were all for show. But that didn’t stop her body from reacting to him. At least she didn’t have to fake that part. Would it be enough for tonight?
“You are very beautiful, Sophia.”
She gave him a hesitant smile and stepped out of his arms. “I’d better go check on dinner.” She needed a few minutes, and perhaps a glass of Vittore’s limoncello, to help her get through the next couple of hours. She didn’t think Giada would be as easy to fool as the guests at Isabella’s party.
She tasted the soup and asked Maria if they should add a little more spice. She’d noticed during the few meals she’d shared with Luca that he always added a few dashes of pepper sauce to the soup.
Vittore laughed and responded with a comment she took to mean she was taking over as teacher. But Maria put an extra two shakes of hot sauce into the pan, then tried it again herself. The cook was nodding her approval when her eyes darted behind Sophia, toward the door.
“I did not know you spoke Italian so well,” Luca said.
“I’ve been practicing on Maria and Vittore. They are very patient.”
Maria broke into a flurry of Italian, and Sophia only managed to catch the odd word. She took the gist to mean that she was too nicely dressed to be standing at the stove and she should sit down and visit with her new mama.
As she walked toward the door, Luca’s eyes roved over her body, and she saw him swallow. Perhaps it wasn’t all for show.
In the sitting room, Sophia perched on the edge of the useless red sofa. The new one should be coming in a few days, and she could hardly wait. Luca hadn’t commented on any of the other little changes she’d made. But the few personal touches she’d added made the house seem warmer, more homely. At least to her.
Luca poured her a glass of wine and mixed a martini for himself. “I found out how Mama heard of our marriage,” he began.
“Oh, how?”
“You ordered a sofa to be reupholstered. The man who runs the upholstery shop is married to one of Mama’s friends. She got in touch with Mama on Facebook and asked why she did not visit when she came back for our wedding.”
“Oh, dear. What did your mother say to you?”
“I would not repeat it. But do not fear. I took all the blame.”
“I didn’t know about the upholsterer’s wife. I was trying to support the local businesses.”
“You will soon learn that nothing is secret in a small vil
lage. For example, I know you have been meeting with that Englishman, Jonathan.” The cold chill that initially swept through Sophia was replaced with a white-hot heat.
“I have done nothing wrong. I’m helping him with the interior design of his house.”
“I do not doubt you, amore. I only caution. I told you that my reputation is very important to me. I will not accept it for my wife to be talked about visiting another man’s house.” His accent became more pronounced and his hand clenched at his side.
“And I will not be told who I’m allowed to hang out with. Jonathan is a friend and a client. If you really wanted to stop rumors of me with another man, then perhaps you should be home more often.”
Luca put his glass down with a thunk. Some of his martini splashed onto his hand. Before she could offer to get a towel to wipe it, he strode across the room and pulled her into his arms.
“Si, perhaps I should come home more often.” His head descended and he took her lips in a blistering kiss. Gone was the gentleness of half an hour ago. This was raw passion, demanding she surrender or challenge in return. Not one to back down, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, dueling with his. One of her hands roved over his back, the other tangled into his hair.
As suddenly as he’d pulled her to him, he released her. Through her heavy breathing, she barely discerned his mother’s light footsteps on the marble floor. Luca walked over to the window, his back to her. Her heart pounded, and she ran a shaky hand over her hair.
“Please excuse me, Giada. I just need to … get something,” she said as her mother-in-law entered the room.
“Luca, cosa c’é?” Giada asked as Sophia left.
What’s up? Sophia’d like to know the answer to that as well.
• • •
Luca rolled the tumbler full of ice and whiskey across his forehead. Well, he’d screwed that up epically. Ask the wife, who can scarcely stand to be in the same room as you—the one you are so desperate to make love to you can barely stand upright—to move into your bedroom in order to fool your mother that you married for love, then pick a fight with that wife before dinner about something entirely not her fault. Oh yeah, then kiss her until you’re about to burst into flames seconds before your mother walks into the room. Smooth, real smooth.
He took a swig of the whiskey. What the hell should he do now? Sophia had hardly spoken a word during dinner and had only picked at her food. His mother had glared at him from soup to tiramisu. He was a failure as both husband and son. He could skulk back to the office or to his flat in Milan. Or he could man up and apologize to his wife. Then sleep on the floor.
He downed the rest of his drink and headed up the stairs. The bedroom was in darkness when he entered. Perhaps Sophia wasn’t even in there. Maybe she’d slipped into one of the other rooms after his mother had gone up to hers. He released a sigh of relief when he heard a soft rustling in the bed.
“I’m not asleep if you want to turn the light on,” she whispered.
“The moon is full tonight. I will open the curtain instead. The light will not be as harsh,” he replied. He pressed a button, and the little whirling motor pulled the drapes open. The moonlight bathed the room in an eerie, white light, and he could see Sophia sat up in the bed, the blankets clutched to her chest.
“I have come to apologize. I was a brute.” His practiced speech went out the window when he saw her in his bed. He so wanted to climb in beside her, hold her in his arms, and beg her forgiveness that he didn’t even know where to start now.
“Luca, you need to know something about me. I have never had to justify my actions to anyone. My parents didn’t care what I did. So when you tell me what I can and can’t do, I immediately get irritated.”
“I understand. But you also need to see how your actions affect my reputation. Remember, the culture is different here. Old-fashioned attitudes still prevail. When a married woman spends time with a man who is not her husband, people will talk. Especially if they are seen leaving together and driving to his house.”
“But his house is full of workers. We have never been alone. I don’t hang out with Jonathan to start rumors. It never even crossed my mind that people would think I was having an affair with him. We’re friends, that’s all. Like you and Isabella are friends. I’ve been alone in this house for weeks. I rarely see you. I feel more like a pampered pet than a wife. Maria and Vittore are nice, but every conversation is a struggle for me. Isabella has been kind and taken me shopping. But she has her own life and travels with Dante as much as she can. I’m bored and lonely. The documents I help you with take only minutes to do. Is it any wonder I’ve become friends with Jonathan? We speak the same language and he values my advice. He makes me feel needed.”
He searched her eyes, wishing he’d turned on the light so he could see her better. It still stung that she gave her friendship so easily to another man when she was so distant with him. “I need you, too, Sophia. And I trust you. I will not mention it again. But I ask that you take care how you act toward him in public.”
“I can agree to that.”
“And I am sorry you are lonely. I told you when I proposed that I was very busy with my work. I have not abandoned you on purpose.”
“I know, Luca. I understand that your work is very important to you. And as your wife, if something is important to you, it’s important to me. Talk to me about it. Don’t shut me out. We have to share things if this marriage is going to work.”
“I will try. But you will have to remind me. Sharing is new to me.”
“Me too. I’ve been independent for a long time. I have to make adjustments as well, take your feelings into consideration when I do things. And while we are on the subject of sharing … ” She moved to her knees and cupped his face with both hands. He sucked in a breath as her head descended toward his. She’d never initiated a kiss before, and he steeled himself to be gentle, not frighten her with his passion.
Her lips caressed his lightly. One of her hands slipped from his cheek to the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair. His blood rushed to his groin again and before the last vestige of reason left his brain he released her lips, burying his face in her neck. Her heavy breathing echoed his.
“What else is it you want to share, amore mio?”
“I think it’s time we shared your bed on a permanent basis.”
Chapter 9
Sophia took a deep breath. She was finally going to do it. She had a fluttery feeling in her stomach, but no dread.
“Are you sure? I do not want to force you into something you are not ready for,” Luca said, but he was already unbuttoning his shirt.
“I’m ready. But before we start, you should know that I have scars. They’re not pretty.” She searched his eyes for a hint of revulsion, but the light was too dim.
“Are they from your past?” He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her inner wrist, setting off a series of tingles up her whole arm.
“Yes.”
“Then you are a true ninja, my warrior woman. Your strength and courage draw me to you, Sophia, not push me away.”
“If I were a true ninja, I wouldn’t have the scars.”
“Perhaps. One day, will you trust me enough to share your past with me?”
“I hope so.”
“I do as well. Until then, know this, amore. We are a team now—partners in good and bad.”
She didn’t want to mar this moment with her ugly past. The present was far too consuming. Heat radiated off Luca, his scent enveloping her.
“Well, partner, I’m no expert in this, but I think we’ve done enough talking. It’s time for action.” She knelt again on the bed in front of him and spread his unbuttoned shirt wide, roaming her hands over his lightly-haired chest. His muscles quivered under her hands, and he sucked in a quick breath. She reached for his belt and tried to ease the leather through the buckle.
“Whoa, slow down,” he said hoarsely, as if he managed to pull just enough air into his l
ungs to get the words out.
“Don’t you like?” She looked up at him, confused.
“I like too much,” he reassured her. “But this is your first time—our first time. I do not want to rush anything. Trust me, slower is better … sometimes.”
“Well, can I do this?” she breathed against his chest, her tongue flicking his nipples. A sense of power flooded through her as his heart raced beneath her cheek.
His sudden intake of breath brought a smile to her lips. It was replaced however by her own quickly indrawn breath as he ran his thumb over her nipple. “Two can play at that game,” he whispered into her ear. “And I know more moves than you.” His hands caressed her breasts through the satiny fabric of her camisole top. Her nipples went rigid, and she resented the tiny barrier between his hand and her skin.
“I may be a virgin, but I’m well read,” she challenged, eliciting a loud groan from him when her fingers brushed against his erection.
He stood and pulled his clothes off, then looked into her eyes. At her nod, he carefully pulled her top up over her head. He stared for a moment at her naked torso before his hand, almost reverently, touched her breast again. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
Their hands explored each other, lingering over areas that produced the most reaction. Luca’s lips were busy, too, exploring and tasting curves as if he were sampling delicacies from a buffet. He slipped her shorts from her, his hands fluttering over the scars on her buttocks.
Awash with sensation, she managed to lever her eyes open when he whispered her name. He hovered above her, searching her face.
“Amore, this may hurt, I am so sorry.” His voice was thick. His body glistened with a sheen of moisture, his eyes blazed with passion, yet still he thought of her comfort.
Luca stopped moving at her sharp intake of breath. She searched his face. He seemed to be concentrating hard to keep still, allowing her body time to get used to him. The pain receded, and she hesitantly moved beneath him. He withdrew slowly. Worried that he would stop, Sophia grabbed his buttocks as if they were a lifeline in a swollen river.