An Inconvenient Love (Crimson Romance) (11 page)

“The village I want to show Chet has been abandoned for thirty years. All of the buildings are derelict, but the location is fantastic. It is surrounded by hills and the beautiful Adriatic coast is only a few miles away. It would make a perfect spa hotel, a luxury property where guests could have their own house for privacy.”

“It sounds wonderful. But where is Teramo? I don’t recognize the name.”

“It is almost six hours from here. But there is not so much work in this area now, and I have people relying on me for employment. I can weather a few lean years, but if work is available I cannot, in good faith, turn it down.”

Her fingers stilled on his neck. Before she could pull away, he reached for her hands and drew her around in front of him. “What is wrong? Are you worried we will not have enough money?” Would she leave him if he lost the company? The tension she’d released with her massage came back twice as hard in his stomach.

“No, I’ve lived with nothing before. I can do it again. It’s … ”

“Tell me, Sophia. I am your husband. You can share your worries with me.” She squeezed his hands lightly but didn’t pull away. A lock of her hair slipped from behind her shoulder and caressed her face. He wanted to tuck it back behind her ear, but his hand refused to let go of hers.

“It’s just that I barely see you now. If you take this job, I won’t see you at all.” There was a catch in her voice as she said the last words. His chest constricted, and he drew in a large breath to ease the tightness. Money didn’t matter to her, she wanted him.

He stood and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin at the top of her head. She didn’t resist or stiffen, and he reveled in her scent, the feel of her in his arms. “We will work something out. I would not leave you.”

“I miss you, Luca.” She whispered the words and a lump formed in his throat. He’d brought her to his country and then virtually abandoned her. And she hadn’t once complained or demanded that he stay home. He was a terrible husband.

She raised her face and he searched her eyes. The fake smile he’d come to loathe was gone. “I miss you, too. We must fix this mistake. We have not had a honeymoon. Why do we not go away this weekend?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

Her eyes sparkled. “Sounds wonderful.”

• • •

Sophia had three days to get over herself—stop wanting what she couldn’t get and hold onto what she had. Luca was taking her up to romantic Lake Como on Friday night, and she’d be damned if she was coming back a virgin. She’d let the past control enough of her life. If she was going to move forward in her marriage, then she needed to get out of the yellow bedroom and into Luca’s.

She pulled off her muddy gloves and wiped the sweat off her forehead with her arm. It was almost ten o’clock, and the sun had started to burn her fair skin. Vittore had allocated a small patch of the garden to her so she could try various flower combinations. The formal Italian garden, with its topiary and manicured lawns, was beautiful. But she wanted a tiny spot of wild abandon where flowers could grow free of borders and boundaries—able to touch each other in the gentle breeze, support each other in a fierce wind.

Her mobile phone rang in her gardening bag, and she quickly dug it out. She didn’t get many calls. Isabella was still away with Dante at a rugby tournament and Olivia was at a modeling assignment in the Caribbean. She’d already spoken to James yesterday, so that eliminated all the usual callers. Maybe Jonathan was calling to change their appointment to go antique hunting in Bergamo.

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 village. 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.