An Inconvenient Love (Crimson Romance) (9 page)

“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 through 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.”

“Have you ever been drunk?”

“Not since I was eighteen. I do not like to lose control.”

“Me neither. It’s not safe. But I feel safe with you.”

“Glad to hear it. I will always care for you, Sophia.”

“Still, I wonder what it would take to make you lose control.”

“At the moment, just one of your smiles.” At least that’s what she thought he said. It could have been her imagination, because the next thing she knew she woke up near enough naked in her bed.

Luca sensed rather than heard Sophia descend the stairs. Through the open dining room door, he saw her cling to the banister. Each step was tentative, and she stopped twice before managing to make her way to the table. He folded his newspaper and placed it beside his plate.

“Tea,” she whispered. “Must have tea. Too much Prosecco. Very bad head.”

He poured a cup of tea and placed it in front of her. She sipped it slowly with her eyes closed, allowing him to drink in the sight of her. She’d obviously just dragged herself out of bed and thrown on a pair of jeans and a knit top. Her hair was tousled and hung in loose waves down her back—disheveled and delectable. The now familiar rush of heat flooded his body at her just-woken look.

Last night at the party, she’d held his hand or tucked her body against his, whispered into his ear, and smiled at him like a woman in love. He doubted a single person had left the party not believing theirs was a love match. He’d even been fooled once or twice himself. Sophia was a damn good actress. He needed to learn to tell when she wasn’t faking, because he wanted to know the real woman, not the one she put on display for everyone else.

She’d fallen asleep on the drive home, and he’d been unable to wake her when they’d arrived. So he’d carried her to her room and managed to get her into bed. He’d pulled the pins out of her hair so they didn’t poke her in the night. The beautiful dress she’d worn didn’t look comfortable to sleep in, so he’d eased down the zipper, to discover she was wearing only the tiniest scrap of underpants and no bra.
Grazie a Dio,
he hadn’t known that earlier in the evening or it would have driven him insane. As it was, it took every ounce of self-control he had to pull the blankets up over her and go sleep in his cold, lonely bed.

Dio mio, what is wrong with me?
They had been married for three days and already this marriage was proving anything but convenient. He’d thought he could marry a desirable woman and still pursue the passion of his business. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to marry for love. He’d seen love turn other men’s ambition to dust and had vowed the same wouldn’t happen to him.

However, now he was beginning to resent every minute his business took him away from Sophia. It must be the fact that they hadn’t consummated their marriage. The sexual tension was distracting him. Once they made love, he’d be able to concentrate on work again. Satisfied that was the answer, he returned to his breakfast.

“I thought you English girls were used to staying up all night and clubbing till dawn?”

“Not this English girl. I am used to being in bed by eleven with a good book,” she admitted, finally opening her eyes. “If you wanted a girl to stay up and party all night, you should have married Olivia.”

“No, I married the right girl. I will promise to have you in bed by eleven if you replace the good book with a good man.” He reached across the table and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll consider your offer,” she replied, her voice raspy.

She finished her tea and poured another cup. “Um, I didn’t do anything stupid last night, did I?”

“No, you were a perfect angel.”

“I’m not sure perfect angels wake up naked.” There was no censure in her eyes, just confusion.

“Not generally. But I promise I closed my eyes,” he lied. “I did not think you would sleep very well in your dress.”

“Well, thank you for your help. I didn’t want anything to have happened and I missed it.”

“I do not take advantage of women who have passed out. And trust me,
amore
, when I make love to you, you will remember it.”

“Good to know,” she mumbled into her tea.

He bit back the offer to show her right now. “I am afraid I am going to have to leave you again. Every year I take my workers to one of the matches between the Milan football teams, Internazionale and AC Milan. That happens to be today. It is booked months in advance. After the match we go out for something to eat. I should be home by nine or ten.” It was usually one of his favorite days of the year, but for the first time he’d rather watch the game on TV if it meant he could be with Sophia.

She stole a piece of toast off his plate, giving him a wink as she did, even though there were several others on the toast rack on the table.

“That’s okay. I plan on spending the day sleeping and reading, probably in that order. I don’t think I’ll be much company anyway.” She dropped the purloined toast on her plate after one bite and rubbed her fingers on her temples.

“Speaking of reading, there is a present from your friend Jonathan on my desk—a couple of books on learning Italian. At least the man is practical. He also left a note apologizing for not coming to the party. Evidently a delivery of concrete he was expecting arrived late, and he had to stay behind and supervise the pour.”

“That’s a shame. Maybe I’ll run into him in the village again and can thank him personally. I’m happy to get the books, though. I want to start learning right away so I can understand people. It’s very frustrating when you don’t know what’s going on. All your friends were very nice last night about speaking English when I was near.”

Luca bit his tongue. He couldn’t demand that she not see the other man. He had to trust she wouldn’t betray him or damage his reputation. “You were the star of the night. Everyone loved you.”

“Well, they may not love me so much if I’m still speaking only English a year from now. Oh, by the way, Isabella and I arranged to meet in Milan tomorrow. Any chance I can get a ride into the city with you in the morning? What time do you leave?”

“Yes, she mentioned it to me. I usually leave by six thirty. However, tomorrow I will not go until eight so you do not have to get up so early.” At least they’d have the hour’s commute into Milan together. It would have to do … for now.

• • •

Sophia flipped through the fabric samples, trying to find the perfect one to go with the sofa she’d seen in the village her first day. Isabella was going to help arrange the purchase and reupholster work. It was ideal for the front sitting room. After she got rid of the red monstrosity, that was.

“Who decorated Luca’s villa?” Because if they were a professional, they should be reported to whoever certified designers in Italy.

“Oh, some woman he was dating at the time. She had ideas of being Signora Castellioni. Luca was too busy to supervise the design himself, so just gave her the money to do it. The furniture is atrocious, is it not? I think she just went into the shop and asked for the most expensive items.” Isabella flipped through the wallpaper samples, occasionally checking a pattern against a photo she held.

“What happened to her? I mean why did they break up?”

“I did not get the full story. But I heard she was baking two cakes at the same time.”

Sophia widened her eyes and waiting for the explanation. Isabella’s expressions were often a mix-up of English and literally translated Italian idioms.

“She was also seeing some other man. He proposed first, so she went with him. I do not think Luca was too upset, except when the furniture started to arrive.”

“Has Luca dated many women?”

“No, he has been too busy at work. Being successful has always been his obsession. I think it comes from when he was at school.”

“Yes, Luca said you were at school together. Did something happen there that made him so determined?”

“It was not one thing. You see, Luca he came from a, what do you call, regular family. His parents were not rich, but they were not poor either. But his father, he wanted Luca to go to private school so he could get a good education and be important. However, some of the other children did not like that people without lots of money were going to their school. So they made it very hard, always picking on Luca, telling him he was not good enough. I think it made him more determined to be a success, so he could show them.”