An Inconvenient Love (Crimson Romance) (6 page)

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 she 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.”

Luca swallowed. Disappointment warred with elation. He wouldn’t be an Italian 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.

• • •

Sophia opened her eyes and had a moment’s panic. The sun was shining on her face and her first thought was that she was back sleeping on the street. This bed was way too comfortable for any makeshift mattress, however. A flash of gold on her finger returned her heart rate to normal. This was her future; she was no longer mired in the past.

She stretched in the large, luxurious bed, surprised she’d slept so deeply. After Luca’s goodnight kiss, she thought she’d toss and turn for hours, wondering whether she’d made the right decision. Maybe sex was like removing a plaster; you had to get it over quickly before you thought about it too much. She could almost hear Olivia’s laugh at the analogy.

It wasn’t so much the actual physical deed that churned her stomach. She’d read enough to know that consummation was supposed to be rather pleasant. And Luca certainly looked the part of a passionate, caring lover. No, it was the emotional aspect, the letting someone see her—scars and all—that scared the pants back on her. She didn’t trust easily, and for sex you had to trust. Or get blind, stupid drunk. That was always an option.

Twenty minutes later, she descended the stairs, hoping to sneak into the kitchen and find a bowl of cereal or a piece of toast. It was after ten o’clock; she hadn’t slept so late in years. Opening the kitchen door, she almost passed out from the sight of all the food. Baked goods, boiled eggs, an assortment of deli meats, and fresh fruit were displayed on the table like a king’s buffet. Despite having eaten a week’s worth of food the night before, Sophia’s stomach gurgled at the smell of the freshly baked muffins. She had to figure out a way to tell Maria not to cook so much or she would soon resemble an elephant.