THREE DAYS. THAT was how long she’d been here. Phoebe always worked long hours on the job once she got started and this house was no different.
With the avocado bathroom gone, the walls were now smooth and ready for retiling. The plumbing and electrics had been checked and any problems fixed. The ancient chimneys had been swept. The whole house smelled of paint, and there was a perpetual thin layer of dust wherever she went.
It wasn’t that the clean-up crew weren’t doing their job. They were. It was just they were having to do their job over and over again as the endless stream of tradesmen came and went from the house.
Today there was a joiner oiling and re-hanging some of the shutters. They really were gorgeous and they’d all been repainted a brilliant white. The kitchen appliances had been delivered, but not connected. The Belfast sinks were still to be fitted along with the new countertop. Phoebe had a spreadsheet with all times, dates and phone numbers for everyone responsible.
She walked up the curved stairs humming to herself with a pile of bedding and towels in her arms. Two of the bedrooms and half baths were ready for her inspection. The drapes for the bedrooms wouldn’t be here for another week. But there was no reason she couldn’t start to look at some of the finishing touches.
The porcelain sink and toilet gleamed bright white, along with the tiles. The clean-up crew had guaranteed they could restore the pieces to their former glory and they’d been as good as their word. She smiled as she put the pale yellow towels on the floor. She’d bought some cute ottomans for the bathrooms. She’d need to find them.
She glanced out the window toward Lake Mecox. Snow was starting to fall heavily again. She had hours of work still to do. She didn’t want to start the journey back home because of the bad weather—even more so, she didn’t want any of the tradesmen to leave early.
She’d ordered new mattresses for all the beds. So she spent a few minutes making up the bed in one set of bedclothes, then five minutes later in another. The pale yellow had seemed a little washed out in this room. The duck-egg blue was much better. Most people didn’t understand how much light played in dressing a house. One of the first things she considered was whether a room was south, east, north or west facing. It could make all the difference.
She looked at the pile of bedclothes she still had to go through. There was no reason why she couldn’t start looking at the other rooms. She had cushions, new lights, new lamp shades. There was a world of work she could do right now. Enthusiasm sparked inside her. Now, where had she put those prints she’d bought the other day?
* * *
“You look like crap.”
Brianna had never been one to hold back.
Matteo waved his hand and shook his head while he finished his call. Brianna swept through the door and strode across his office. She was wearing a bright blue designer coat that she took off and practically dumped in his lap.
Patience had never been his sister’s greatest virtue.
She sighed, then tapped the desk, before finally perching on the edge of it. Matteo finished his call then leant back in his chair. “What do you want?”
He knew not to ignore her. Any man who ignored Brianna Bianchi was a fool, and soon learned the consequences of their actions.
“I’m ready to meet her.”
“Ready to meet who?”
She waved her hand nonchalantly. “That girl that you won’t really talk about. Makes me suspicious. I definitely have to meet her.”
Matteo shook his head as he stared at the laptop on his desk. There was a problem at one of the vineyards in Portugal. He really needed to call. Soon.
Brianna licked her glossy lips. As usual, his sister looked impeccable. And very much like their mother.
Brianna always liked to be reminded of that. She’d only been a few weeks old when their mother had died, so didn’t have any memories of her at all—only a few family photographs. But for Matteo it was harder. He had lots of memories.
Brianna had the same shiny dark hair and eyes, the same skin tone and frame. It was uncanny, and sometimes she even did little movements similar to their mother. There was no way it could be learned behavior. It could only be genetics. And sometimes that terrified Matteo. Especially now.
He’d always been close to his brother and sister. How would they feel about him if he ever told them the truth about their mother? Would they hate him, resent him for keeping quiet? He couldn’t bear the thought of not being this close to them. His insides twisted again. For now, it was best that he continued to keep his secret. He could watch Brianna. Keep close to her. That way, he’d know if there was anything to worry about. He wasn’t a child anymore. He was an adult. An informed adult.
Brianna rested her hands on her swollen abdomen. “What’s she like anyway? I looked her up. She’s pretty.” She gave Matteo a sideways glance. “Very pretty, actually. And she wasn’t wearing a ring in the picture that I found. Is she attached?”
Matteo couldn’t even hide his surprise at his sister’s brazenness. “Why on earth would that matter?”
Brianna arched her back then stood up and walked around the desk, all the while her eyes carefully focused on her brother. “Well, of course, it doesn’t. I’m just curious. How soon will she be finished?”
Matteo kept his voice steady. “Just a few weeks, I expect. Phoebe seems super-organized. She’s running the place like an army colonel.”
Brianna’s eyes gleamed and she leaned across the desk toward him. “So, it’s Phoebe already, and not Ms. Gates?”
He met her gaze square on. “Stop it, Brianna. You being pregnant won’t prevent me from throwing you out of my office.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “As if.” Then her face fell a little. “I’m twitchy. I feel as if I’m going stir crazy. I’d love to be at the house in Rome. I’d love to help with the renovations.” She rested her hands on her stomach. “But some people have decided I shouldn’t fly.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “The whole world thinks you shouldn’t fly right now.”
Brianna bit her bottom lip and gave him that look. The one she always used when she wanted something.
“What? What is it?”
“I wondered if you would mind having a look for something for me.”
Matteo frowned. “What do you mean?”
Brianna averted her gaze. “I’ve been looking for some photographs. Dad told me about them. But he could never find them.”
Matteo felt a chill across his skin. “What photographs?”
Brianna licked her lips. He could tell she’d been practicing this conversation in her head. “Their wedding photographs. Dad thought he might have left them in the house. He said that they might have been left in one of the cupboards. They’re in a red photograph album.”
Matteo could feel every little hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Dad told you this when?”
Brianna lifted her darkened eyelids. “Just before he died. He told me he wanted me to see their wedding pictures. So I would always remember just how happy they’d been.” Her voice shook a little. And that for Brianna was big. She hardly ever let her emotions betray her. “It was just after I told him I was pregnant.”
“And you just mention this now?” Brianna flinched at his snappiness.
He cringed. He couldn’t help it.
Brianna waved her hand angrily. “There’s never been a good time. Dad was sick, then he died. Then we had to sort out the business. Then it was Christmas and we had to agree about the house sales. Now is the time to talk about this. Before we sell the house at the Hamptons.” She blew part of her fringe off her face. “If this is such a bother for you, Matteo, I’ll do it myself. I thought, since you’d already spent some time down there, it might be something you could do.” She lifted her chin and stared off into the corner. “I could always ask Vittore.”
She knew just what buttons to press. Always had. Always would. The gift of being a sister.
“Which cupboard? Where?”
She shrugged. “He wasn’t specific. He just said that they’d cleared things out quickly and maybe the photographs had been left behind.”
Matteo sucked in a deep breath in an effort to keep calm. He didn’t want Brianna to know how difficult he was finding this. He didn’t want to give any indication of how many memories being back at the house had stirred up. He was head of the family now. He had to show strength. Resilience. And he had that in spades. It just felt as if he’d had to keep reminding himself of that in the last few days.
His eyes rested on his sister’s stomach. Especially now. How could he say no? He stood up quickly. “Of course I’ll look for the album. If it’s there—I’ll find it.”
He walked across the room and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll let you know how I get on.”
Brianna gave a nod of her head. “I knew I could count on you.”
* * *
“Phoebe? Do you realize what time it is?”
Phoebe jerked up from where she’d been contemplating how to redress the gorgeous library. She’d missed this room on her first visit to the house. It seemed that when the Bianchis had first moved in they hadn’t gotten around to clearing out the masses of books that the former actress had owned. Some of the subject matter almost made Phoebe blush. It seemed there had been much more to the demure actress than met the eye.
She turned to the door where Al, one of the joiners, was standing. His tool chest was in his hand and he was already wearing his jacket. She looked at her watch.
“Seven o’clock? Really? I had no idea. Al, I’m sorry. It’s New Year’s Eve. You should have gone home an hour ago.”
Al shrugged. “I was in the middle of things, but I’m going to head off now. Family party. The snow is getting worse. Where do you live? I’m in Hoboken. Can I drop you somewhere?”
Phoebe shook her head swiftly. “No, of course not. I’m fine. I have my car.”
Al raised his eyebrows. “Be careful out there. I’m not sure your car is designed for roads covered in snow. And it already looks as if some of the New Year revelers are out.”
She gave a smile and nodded. “No problems.”
Al disappeared and thirty minutes later Phoebe had finally decided on a plan for the library. She’d never been a fan of New Years. Her mom had let her know well in advance that she was having a glass of wine with a neighbor, then going home to bed. Phoebe had no reason to rush back into the city and experience the Times Square madness. She walked through to the kitchen with her sketch pad in her hands. The window ledge of the kitchen was stacked with snow. Phoebe wrinkled her brow and sat the pad down on the large kitchen table. Maybe she should head home—that snow was deeper than she’d expected.
She grabbed her bag and jacket and headed to the front door. The sky was already black and the snow was swirling around. Her Mini was coated in a thick layer of it. She smiled. Most New Yorkers saw no need for a car. Transport in the city was good. But Phoebe’s interior design job meant she frequently needed to travel further afield.
She’d watched a movie years ago that featured three of these cars and had dreamed of one ever since. When she’d found a second-hand one—that came from the UK—a few months ago, she’d had to buy it.
The driveway was thick with ice and Phoebe practically skidded as she headed to the car. She jumped inside and started the engine. The car was always reliable and turned over first time. But as she moved the car into first gear—she’d finally got used to the stick shift—the wheels spun in the snow. She tried again, and again, but the car didn’t move.
Somewhere in the distance fireworks exploded in the dark sky. It seemed that the Hampton parties had started already. People weren’t waiting for the stroke of midnight for the fun to start. She could only imagine the chaos around Times Square right now with people crushing in, waiting to see the famous ball drop. Did she really want to head back there?
She sighed and leaned back in her seat as the thick flakes of snow continued to fall. She stared back at the house. Just as well she loved the place—looked as if she’d have to stay.
Phoebe scrambled back out of the car and into the house. Now the work crew had all left it was amazing how much her footsteps echoed through the house. She pulled out her phone and searched for the nearest pizza place—thank goodness it was still open. Two minutes later she’d ordered, warning their delivery driver about the driveway.
She glanced at her phone and sent a quick text to her mother. It would be so easy to sit down and spend all night on social media, but it wasn’t really what she wanted to do. None of the TVs in the house was currently working. The satellite company wasn’t scheduled to arrive until next week.
She smiled. Of course. The library. The perfect place to spend a snow-filled evening. It was stacked with multiple shelves of books, accessible by an old-style set of moving steps. In a way, it was the perfect place for her to see in the New Year.
She grabbed the bag she carried with her. Unlike some interior designers she always had a change of clothes so she could do as much physical work as possible. It only took ten minutes to head upstairs and shower and change into the gray sweatpants and long-sleeved pink top she had with her. Comfort first. The bed that she’d made up earlier looked good. Only thing was, the room was a little cold. The heating system was something she’d have to look at the next day. It might be a bit chilly, but staying here wouldn’t be such a hardship.
She headed back down the stairs and spent fifteen minutes trying to light the fire in the library. Eventually she conceded defeat and did an Internet search and watched a video that showed her how to do it. Five minutes later she finally had the flicker of flames, followed by the arrival of her pizza. The delivery guy gave her a wry smile. “Just as well we have a four-by-four. Your driveway doesn’t take any prisoners. And I’m heading home now.”
Phoebe nodded and smiled as she paid him and gave him a big tip. “Thanks so much for this. Happy New Year. Drive safely.”
Your driveway. The guy was assuming she actually owned the house. Maybe in some wild dream or fantasy she would actually own a house in the Hamptons. Phoebe couldn’t stop smiling as she closed the door.
The pizza was lukewarm. But it didn’t matter. She hadn’t realized she was quite so hungry. She carried it through to the library and looked around. Even though the fire was lit she still felt a little cold. She hesitated for only a few seconds before she ran back up the stairs and pulled the new bedclothes from the bed. There was no point in being cold.
Two slices of pizza later, she’d found a book that could make her hair curl even tighter and she settled down on the rug in front of the fire. This could be interesting.
* * *
Matteo let out another curse as his car skidded and he struggled to stop the back end fishtailing. Although the roads from the city had been glistening with snow, the gritters had been out and main highways were clear. The roads through the hamlets and villages of the Hamptons were a little different. He’d had the choice of any car in the garage and had chosen the one he’d thought most practical. The large four-by-four had initially made the journey easy, but the hardest part of the journey was now his own driveway. It currently resembled some kind of ice rink.
He frowned as he finally pulled up outside the house. He’d never intended to be this late, but a conference call had gone on much longer than expected. So by the time he’d started the journey to the Hamptons it was already dark. There was another car sitting in front of the house—one he didn’t recognize.
It was New Year’s Eve. Who on earth would still be here? Chances were it was nobody. Maybe one of the workers had decided to take a ride home with someone else—perhaps to join in some New Year’s celebrations.
Matteo had tactfully given apologies to three potential party invitations, and the last place on earth he wanted to be right now was in the heart of New York at Times Square. The streets had been crammed as he’d left the city and they’d be worse by now.
He stepped outside of the car and promptly landed on his butt. He got up quicker than he’d gone down, groaning and rubbing his backside, flicking his head from side to side. Of course no one had seen him—no one was here. But his reactions were just automatic. He pulled his phone from his pocket praying the screen wasn’t smashed.
The spider’s web across the glass told him otherwise.
He held it up to the alarm scanner. Nothing. Nothing happened. He tried again, then frowned as he turned the key in the lock. A couple of seconds and a few careful steps later he was inside the house.
As soon as he was in the entrance hall he knew something wasn’t right.
There was...something.
A noise. A smell.
He turned in that direction and started walking. At the end of the corridor there was a glow. None of the lights were on in this part of the house. He could easily flick the switches. But he was far too stubborn minded to slow down. He shook his head as he kept walking. For the first time since he’d been a teenager, every bad horror movie he’d ever watched suddenly made sense. He’d always shouted at the screen before—why haven’t you put on the lights? Why are you walking toward the trouble? But here he was, doing exactly the same.
That car still bothered him. But it could easily belong to one of the clean-up crew who didn’t want to drive a small car home in the snow and had traveled home with someone else. The door had been locked, but the alarm hadn’t been on.
Could this be an intruder? Someone who’d heard the house was being renovated and had decided there might be something worth stealing?
His hands clenched into fists. Matteo didn’t need any kind of weapon. He was more than a match for any intruder.
As he strode down the corridor he realized where the light was coming from. The library? Why on earth would any intruder go to the library? It was a place he’d never spent much time in; he hadn’t even remembered to direct Phoebe here when she was looking around the house.
There was something strange about the light. And the smell. Was something burning?
His heart rate quickened as he swung the door open—to the most peaceful scene.
Phoebe was lying curled up on the floor, covered in blankets in front of a flickering fire.
A fire. Of course. Although the house had multiple fireplaces, Matteo had never seen any of the fires lit in this house. They’d only stayed here for a few weeks one fateful summer. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the light might be coming from one of the fireplaces.
Phoebe’s curls were fanned out all around her, her head on a cushion that must have come from one of the high-back chairs. On the floor in front of her was a pizza box, with only a few slices missing.
For a few moments he didn’t move. Just watched the rise and fall of her chest. Her skin glowed in the orange flickering flames. Her lips full and pink.
Something clenched inside him and he turned away. She was an employee. A business associate. Even if it was for only a few weeks. He had to push any other kind of thoughts away. He had too much else to deal with—too much else to worry about. He couldn’t afford any distractions.
“Matteo?”
He turned around. Phoebe was pushing herself up, moving her hair away from her tired eyes. “When did you get here?” She looked confused. “What time is it?”
Matteo straightened up. “It’s after ten. Phoebe, what are you doing here? It’s New Year’s Eve. Are you staying here?”
She gave a weak smile. “I kind of got snowed in. My Mini wouldn’t move. The wheels just kept spinning in the snow. They couldn’t get any grip.”
She looked down at the bedding around her, and pulled a face as if she realized how inappropriate it might look. “I’m sorry about this. I came down here because I was cold. We’ll need to check the boilers. Once I’d lit the fire and had something to eat, I just closed my eyes for a second and...” Her voice tailed off, then she let out a little laugh and pulled her knees up to her chest. “But isn’t this the perfect place to spend New Year’s?”
The heat from the room reached out toward Matteo. The fire was inviting. But the sleepy-eyed woman seemed even more so. It was the expression on her face when she said those words. Any other woman that Matteo had been involved with would have made a song and dance about New Year’s Eve and parties. More than once he’d ended up spending New Year’s dressed in a tuxedo and celebrating with people he barely knew, as the woman on his arm complained about her shoes and drank more champagne. He wasn’t at all sorry not to be in that situation this year.
Phoebe, in her casual clothes, with pizza and a bed in front of the fire, was like a revelation.
He stepped inside. Phoebe gave a rueful smile and held up the pizza box. “Can I offer you some cold pizza? The delivery guy managed to get here, so pizza—” she looked around “—and soda is all I can offer you.”
Matteo shook his head. “I didn’t come here for food.”
“Oh, what did you come for?”
The question was innocent. He knew that. But it sent up all his defenses. “Just something for the family.”
Phoebe looked at him curiously as she pushed herself to her feet. “Can I help you?”
She moved over toward him, obviously feeling self-conscious as she tugged at her clothes. “Not the most professional-looking—I know. But, sometimes dressing homes isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. Sometimes I just get down on my hands and knees and scrub floors.”
Something flared in his mind. A few years ago he’d sold another property. The interior designer hired then had swanned around in a suit and heels with her hair swept up in a bun, a scarf around her neck and a clipboard permanently in her hand. Ms. Dragon, as he’d nicknamed her, wouldn’t ever dream of getting her hands dirty. She was too busy ordering her minions about. There was something reassuring about knowing how committed to the job Phoebe was.
Phoebe tilted her head to the side and a waft of roses seemed to reach out toward him. It took him a few seconds to realize the scent was coming from her. Had she just showered? “It’s late. Couldn’t what you need wait until morning?” Phoebe turned and walked to the window, pulling back the shutters and looking at the white landscape outside. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up just as stranded as me.”
Matteo walked up behind her, standing a little closer than he should. The scent of roses was definitely coming from her. Fresh and light, it was almost intoxicating. Maybe it was the heat from the fire? Or maybe it was just his lack of sleep catching up with him. But something was sending all his senses into overload.
“What brought you to the library?” Matteo looked around the room. It was darker than the rest of the house, mainly because of the polished mahogany lining the shelves and walls. The only splash of color came from the wingback chairs covered in deep red velvet and the thick red rug in front of the fire. The shelves were lined with a myriad hardback books in a variety of shades that Matteo had never even looked at.
Phoebe held up her hands, her eyes sparkling. “It’s the most beautiful room in the house. I love it.” She walked over to the old-style moving steps. “Have you any idea how excited I was when I saw these? It’s like every bookworm’s dream. All these books. And these stairs? I could spend all day, every day in this room.” She held up her hands in front of her chest. “I mean, imagine having a library in your house?” Her enthusiasm practically emanated from every pore.
Matteo leaned back against the wall. He’d never really thought about the library at all. He hadn’t had any interest in it as a five-year-old—he’d been much more excited by the tennis court and swimming pool in the grounds of the house. But the enthusiasm brimming from Phoebe was almost infectious. He walked over and ran his hand across the spines of some of the books. The library had that old-world sort of smell. The kind you either loved—or hated.
Most of the books looked like encyclopedia-style volumes. He gave a smile. “Remember the world before the Internet, when you actually had to go to a library and search in a book when you wanted to find out something?”
Phoebe nodded. She was staring at the books in front of her. “Two seconds, that’s how long it takes now to search for something. Think of the hours you had to spend before.”
She was still smiling as she pulled one of the books from the shelf. “Some of these books look demure. But looks can be deceiving.” There was a glint in her eye as she let the book fall open in her hands.
Matteo was curious and walked toward her. The heat in the room was building and he shrugged off his jacket. His eyes widened as he looked at the illustrations in the book and choked with laughter. He leaned closer and frowned. “Can people even get in that position?”
Phoebe met his gaze with a glint in her eye. “Only if you’re a contortionist. I’m assuming these books belonged to the previous owner?”
Matteo nodded his head. He couldn’t help but smile. “Melinda Mulrooney had a reputation for being demure. Seems like there was much more to her than met the eye.”
Phoebe smiled as she closed the book and slid it back into place. She turned back toward Matteo and bit her lip. “I’m sorry that I’m here. Obviously, I didn’t mean to be.”
Matteo shrugged. “It’s fine.” He glanced at the heap of bedclothes on the floor. “But don’t you want to sleep in a bed?”
“I would have—but it was a little cold upstairs. And what with the fire down here and—” she held out her hands “—all these wonderful books. I kind of decided that this was all the entertainment a girl could need.”
The sentence was light-hearted but their gazes connected as she said the last few words. It seemed to hang in the air between them. Against the crackle of the fire in the background he could almost hear the sizzle in the air. His skin buzzed and blood rushed to parts at the rate of a Grand Prix driver racing around Le Mans. He was holding his breath without even realizing it, and as Phoebe’s tongue slipped from her mouth and slid along her bottom lip it glistened in the dim light. There was a roaring in his ears. What on earth was happening between them? After the longest pause, Phoebe pulled her eyes away from his. It was excruciating.
“I’ve made up a few of the rooms. If you need to stay too—it should be comfortable.” She pulled a face. “It just might not be too warm.”
Matteo looked out of the window, trying not to let his brain go to the place it wanted to right now. Stay here? With Phoebe? The snow was falling even heavier now. The very last thing he wanted was to be stranded in this house. It didn’t matter that this room was warm and inviting. It didn’t matter that the house was solid, that there was food and there were beds. It was this place. For him, the heat level was irrelevant; he would always feel a chill just being here.
Phoebe reached up and touched his arm. Her warm fingertips sent a jolt through him. “Hey, you came to find something. Want some help?”
“No.”
The word came out before he had time to think and Phoebe jerked backward.
“Sorry,” he said quickly as he ran his hand through his hair. He was being ridiculous. Even he knew that. He was looking for an album he’d never seen, in a house with dozens of rooms and a million cupboards. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. And help should be gratefully received.
His stomach growled loudly. Phoebe pressed her lips together. “Unless you went grocery shopping, it’s cold pizza, or cold pizza.”
He nodded and sighed. “I guess it’s cold pizza, then.” He walked over and sat down on the rug in front of the fire. The snow had started to pile against the window. His stomach gave a flip as he realized there was no way he was getting out of here.
He looked down at the pizza. “What is this?”
Phoebe gave him a challenging look. “It’s a mega meat feast with spicy hot sauce.” She raised her eyebrows. “Why did you think I needed the soda?”
He nodded and licked his lips. “Okay then. I took you for a Hawaiian kind of girl.”
“Ouch. Hawaiian is for wimps.”
Matteo took a bite of the pizza. Within a few seconds the hot sauce hit his taste buds and his eyes started to water. “Wow.” It came out kind of high pitched and he followed it with a deep, hearty laugh and a cough.
Phoebe laughed too and slapped his back. “Too much for you?”
He met her gaze straight on. “Not a chance.” He eyed the pizza again. “I can do this. Hot sauce is nothing. I eat this kind of thing for breakfast.”
“Well, don’t eat it all,” said Phoebe quickly. “We’ll need to have it for breakfast too.”
He hadn’t even said the words out loud, but clearly she knew there was no way he was getting out of here tonight. Trying to travel in that thick snow would be stupid. And it was New Year’s. Last thing he wanted to do was get stranded somewhere and have to call on any emergency services. Traveling now would be stupid and selfish. Matteo was neither.
He held his hand out for the soda that Phoebe passed with a laugh. “Should I have got you Hawaiian?”
He shook his head as the soda finally cooled the explosions in his taste buds.
Phoebe had pulled her knees up in front of her and leaned her head on her elbow. “So, it might be a little late, but I’m not that tired. You might not know this, but the TVs aren’t working yet, and the wi-fi doesn’t get fitted until next week. So, it’s books or nothing.”
Matteo leaned back on his hands and stretched his legs out in front of him. He might have taken his jacket off, but he was still wearing the suit he’d been dressed in all day. After sixteen hours his handmade leather shoes were starting to pinch. Phoebe looked much more comfortable than he did. “I’d kill for those sweatpants,” he murmured.
Phoebe nodded and pulled at the stretchy material. “There’s a reason I always have fall-back clothes.” She held up her hands. “And this, is it.”
Matteo shook his head. “How often do you get stranded or snowed in at work?”
Phoebe grinned. “You’d be surprised. Quite often I’m working at a place that is a bit out of the way. Or, is in the midst of renovations that means the water is turned off, or the electricity.” She lifted her hands higher. “So, this is really a palace in comparison to some of the other places.”
Phoebe was just so easy to be around. She was relaxed—comfortable in her own skin, and much more beautiful than she clearly realized.
But it was her manner that came over most. She had a good heart. Five minutes in her company virtually told you everything you’d ever need to know. She’d never be the person who was thoughtless or insincere. Business had made him hard. He was used to ruthlessness and backstabbing. It was refreshing to be in different company.
The only light in the room was the flickering flames and right now they were reflecting off Phoebe’s dark brown eyes. The noise from the fire—and the occasional spark—was actually very peaceful. For a few seconds he was sorely tempted just to sit here.
But Phoebe had already said she wasn’t tired—clearly, because she’d already slept. But how to spend the next few hours?
He took a deep breath. He only had one reason for being here. And the truth was, he didn’t even know where to start looking. Would it really be so hard for him to actually ask for a little help? He met Phoebe’s gaze again. “How about we play a game of hide and seek?”
* * *
She gave herself a shake. Had she just heard him correctly? It was possible she was hallucinating. In fact, it was possible she’d gone back to that dream state she’d thought she was in last week when she’d first met Italian stallion, Matteo Bianchi.
She tried not to smile at the nickname her brain had automatically conjured up for him.
Chances were, she was still sleeping in front of that crackling fire after getting snowed in. Matteo Bianchi wasn’t really sitting by her side, with his shirtsleeves pushed up and his dark hair flopping over his mesmerizing eyes. That would just be too good to be true. Really.
His hand closed over hers. Warmth. Heat. “What do you say?”
Nope. She wasn’t sleeping. She was definitely awake. A dream wouldn’t be making her heart beat so fast she couldn’t breathe.
“Hide and seek?” Her brain couldn’t really compute. He wanted to play a childhood game with her?
He nodded and changed position so he was kneeling next to her. “I told you that I came here to find something. Truth is, I’m not even sure where to look.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
His voice was steady. “I’m looking for an old photo album. There’s no guarantee it’s even here, but my family think it could be in a cupboard somewhere.”
The frown on her forehead deepened. Her head flicked from side to side. “In a cupboard, in here?”
In a place this size, how would they ever find it?
But Phoebe managed to shake off the enormity of the task quickly. Matteo had come all this way on New Year’s Eve to find a family heirloom. The least she could do was be helpful. “Any clues? Do you know any more about it?”
He hesitated. “I know it’s red. And it’s their wedding album.”
“Whose wedding album?”
He sucked in a deep breath. “My parents’.”
“They lost their wedding album?” She didn’t mean for it to come out like that—as if she almost couldn’t believe someone would lose something so precious.
She watched him swallow as he waved his hand. “There was a lot going on the last time we were here. My mother was—ill. My father just recently died and my sister would really like to find the album.”
There it was again. That little feeling she sometimes got around Matteo. He was telling her something—but not everything. Not that it was any of her business. She had no right to pry and ask questions. But she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t curious.
She pushed herself up onto her knees, mirroring his position. “Okay, so we’re looking for a red wedding album somewhere in this house. Do you have any idea at all where it might be?”
He shook his head. Phoebe put her hand on her chin and thought hard. “Okay, so I’ve been in some of the cupboards in the bedrooms and bathrooms—and I’ve definitely been in every one of the kitchen cupboards, and each of them were empty. There might have been some old cleaning products, or dishcloths, but I haven’t found anything personal at all. In fact—” she leaned a bit and looked around the room “—this place, these books, are the most personal things that I’ve found. But these didn’t belong to your family.”
Matteo’s face fell a little. “Maybe this is all a wild-goose chase.”
She hated that. She hated seeing him look defeated. She grabbed his hand. “Get up. Let’s think about this.” Matteo stood next to her, as she started to walk around. She smiled at him and followed his example from earlier. “Let’s play hide and seek. So, we don’t think it’s deliberately hidden somewhere?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, then, if you’d just moved in somewhere new—” she glanced at Matteo again “—and you had young kids—and you had plans to pretty much renovate the whole house—where would you put something precious? Where would someplace safe be?”
Matteo looked around too, as if he were trying to follow her train of thought. He gave her a hopeful smile. “Let’s find out.”
* * *
Almost two hours later they sagged back into the library. Even though the clean-up crew had been through the entire house more than once, it turned out that poking around the back of cupboards could still leave your hair and clothes covered in dust.
He was tired. He was definitely cranky. And even the woman who’d already had some sleep seemed to be flagging. He was ready to give up. The snow was still thick and heavy outside and it looked as if the gritters hadn’t made it onto the roads yet. He’d definitely be spending the rest of the night here.
Phoebe flopped down for a few minutes onto the bedclothes that were still strewn across the rug, putting her hands on her belly. She almost drummed a tune on her flat stomach as she spoke to herself.
“What makes sense? The bedroom cupboards are all empty. You wouldn’t put something as fragile as a photo album in the kitchen or any of the bathrooms. The main dining room and living room cupboards are empty. And I nearly broke my back trying to scramble up into the attic space.”
Matteo couldn’t help himself. He started to laugh. Maybe it was being overtired. Maybe it was just frustration that he couldn’t get away from the one place he didn’t want to be. Or maybe it was the sight of Phoebe’s legs hanging from the attic and doing her best impression of a spider trying to cling to any surface.
She opened her eyes and stared up at him. “Matteo Bianchi, are you laughing at me?”
Before he had a chance to answer she sat bolt upright again and smacked her hand off her forehead. “Oh, my goodness. We’re idiots. Complete idiots.”
Matteo shook his head. “What? What is it?”
Phoebe spread her arms wide. “What was the one place you know your family didn’t have any immediate plans for?”
Matteo shook his head again. He was still tired. He’d been tempted to lie down on one of the beds that Phoebe had already dressed upstairs, regardless of whether it would ruin the look of the room or not.
Phoebe jumped up. Literally, jumped up onto her feet, a wide smile across her face. “We’re dummies,” she declared before spinning around. “Here, Matteo. Here. The library. The place that was going to remain undisturbed. The place that children probably wouldn’t play, and the renovations wouldn’t touch.” She ran over and flicked the main light switch, flooding the room with light.
It was like being hit by a thunderbolt. Of course. Of course.
Phoebe had already made her way over to the shelves. She wagged her finger at him. “It’s time for us to stop sniggering like naughty school kids at the ancient sex manuals and look for the real prize. A red album. It has to be here.”
Phoebe climbed up the shaky rolling steps and started to look at the top shelves. She pointed downward. “Let’s be methodical about this. You look at the shelves underneath me.”
Matteo nodded. His eyes swept along the shelves. A lot of the books were far too thick to be a photo album. Most of them were the wrong color. He pulled out a few, checking they really were books, then pushing them back onto the shelves.
“Right” came Phoebe’s authoritative voice from above him. “Push me along a bit.”
He looked up and pulled a face at her.
“What? There’s no point in me climbing up and down, when you can just push me along.”
“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much.”
She shrugged and gave him a little smile. “Maybe. But push me along anyhow.”
The ladder squeaked and shook as he wheeled her along. “Don’t get used to this,” he murmured.
She laughed above him and his stomach gave a little flip. The horrible dread and associations he’d always had about this place didn’t seem quite so bad when Phoebe was around. Five minutes later—after she’d got used to ordering him around—Phoebe let out a squeal.
“I think I’ve got it!”
Matteo jumped back, stopping at the bottom of the steps. Phoebe spun around above him, clutching a red album in one hand. Excitement seemed to bubble from her. He lifted his arms up toward her. It just seemed so natural. So easy. And Phoebe didn’t hesitate—she let him lift her down the steps.
The album was in her hands. It looked old. She flicked open the front page then stopped and stared at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to do this yourself?”
He hesitated. Part of him absolutely did.
But part of him absolutely didn’t.
All of a sudden the lights in the library seemed too bright.
“Give me a second.” He walked over and flipped them off. Somehow it seemed safer to be in the flickering firelight. “Let’s sit down,” he said.
Phoebe nodded and walked back over, sitting down in front of the fireplace with the album on her lap. She waited until he joined her, then opened the first page again.
There was no photo. Instead his parents’ names were written in calligraphy.
June 15, 1980
Roberto Matteo Bianchi and Lucianna Maria Aquino
His mouth suddenly felt dry and he was conscious of Phoebe’s eyes on him. He couldn’t remember ever looking at his parents’ wedding album before. He was sure he’d seen one wedding picture. His father had kept one in a frame, hidden away in his study for years. But the rest? Matteo had never seen them.
He flicked over the next page and caught his breath. His mother. So young. She was twenty-two when she got married. She was sitting in her wedding dress in front of her dressing table looking suitably nervous for a young bride.
Her dress was an Italian lace overlay over a white bodice. It was simple. Round necked and short sleeved. It cinched in at the waist, with the skirt flaring out. Her dark brown curls cascaded over one shoulder and clutched in her hand a bunch of white lilies surrounded by baby’s breath. His mother had always loved those. They’d decorated the house frequently.
Phoebe touched the plastic covering the photo. “Her dress is beautiful,” she murmured. Matteo licked his lips. He’d always known that Brianna was the spitting image of their mother, but never had it been so apparent. They could almost be the same person. That thought was enough to send a cold chill down his spine.
Phoebe flicked the page. The wedding album was filled with all the usual pictures. Matteo’s mother with her own father, looking suitably proud. A gaggle of bridesmaids, all dressed in wide pale pink dresses. A whole host of relatives that even Matteo wasn’t entirely sure of.
But then Phoebe flicked the page again and there was his father. His eyes full of joy and life. It was like a fist closing around Matteo’s heart.
It wasn’t that his father had spent the rest of his life miserable. There had been the odd glimmer of spark and happiness. But the truth was, those moments had been few and far between. After the death of his mother, his father had focused all his energy and attention on business. He’d been ruthless. Sometimes heartless about the decisions he’d made.
He’d never been a bad father. He’d never ignored his children. He’d just been a little...vacant.
Seeing this picture of him so full of life and joy almost wrenched the heart from Matteo’s chest. Phoebe was oblivious. She had a dreamy smile on her face as she flicked the pages. The next showed his mother and father clasping hands at the altar and exchanging vows. The love and devotion was painted on their faces for all the world to see.
Phoebe let out a little wistful sigh. “How gorgeous,” she whispered.
The twisting sensation in his chest stopped. He looked at the picture again with new eyes. It was gorgeous. It was a moment in time—a moment to remember. He lifted his fingers to the page. “I think I’d quite like to copy that photograph,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion.
“You’ve lost them both now, haven’t you?”
The emotions were bubbling up inside him. He’d been feeling anger—despair. Everything about this place overwhelmed him with sadness. But just that single comment. And just the chance to sit down and look through these photos was helping him to take stock.
His parents on their wedding day. So much happiness. So much hope. They’d lived a good life together. His father’s business had flourished. His mother had always been adventurous. She’d relished the move to the United States. She’d loved New York and been happy to plan to bring her children up here.
She’d been happy. She’d adored her husband, and looked forward to a lifetime together. Matteo’s stomach gave a little twist. But fate and misfortune had cut that short. He lowered his head. If he’d raised the alarm...if he’d realized she wasn’t sleeping...
Phoebe turned toward him, her rose scent drifting up around him. Her face was only inches away from his. Their bodies were so close. His arm was resting on the floor, but placed between her arm and her body. Just by looking at the album they’d practically found themselves intertwined. Was this fate? Or was this fortune?
It was almost as if all his instincts about Phoebe fell into place at once. She lifted her head, her nose brushing against his chin, and reached up and touched his cheek.
It was the smallest of movements, with a whole lot of heart.
“I think it would be beautiful as a black and white canvas,” she whispered. “Something to look at, and remember.” She paused for a second then added, “We all should remember the things that are precious to us.”
He looked up and met her gaze. In the flickering firelight it was possible he’d never seen a woman look quite so beautiful. Phoebe might be dressed in the most casual of clothes, her hair might show remnants of dust, but her light brown skin glowed, and her dark eyes pulled him in.
There was something there. Something he’d never experienced before. A connection. A feeling. A sincerity.
The timing might be wrong. The circumstances might be less than ideal. But he couldn’t help his instincts. As the world burst into life outside and fireworks filled the air to celebrate the New Year, Matteo bent his head and met her soft lips.
There was no shock. No disdain. Phoebe’s lips were as sweet and inviting as he could have hoped for. The kiss was gentle—sweet. She returned it, her lips parting ever so slightly, encouraging him.
His hand reached up and tangled in her curls, pulling her head closer to his. She let out a little sigh and it was almost his undoing. It would be so easy to continue. So easy to let this progress. They were already on the floor. The bedclothes were scattered around them. He could just pull her on top of him, or slip his hand under the pink top. He could see her gentle curves, and the temptation to touch them was overwhelming.
But, for the first time in his life, Matteo didn’t let his natural instincts set the pace. Instead, he swallowed, and reluctantly let his lips part from hers. He could still taste her, and he’d never felt so hungry for more. Every part of his body urged him to continue.
But he took a deep breath and rested his forehead against hers, his hand still tangled in her hair. Phoebe’s breathing was labored and heavy, just like his. But she didn’t push for anything else. She seemed happy to take a moment too. Her chest was rising and falling in his eye line as they stayed for a few minutes with their heads together.
Everything felt too new. Too raw. Did he even know what he was doing here?
“Happy New Year,” he said softly. “At least I’m guessing that’s why we can still hear fireworks.”
“There are fireworks outside? I thought they were inside.” Her sparkling dark eyes met his gaze and she smiled. “Wow,” she said huskily.
He let out a laugh. “Wow,” he repeated.
Her hand was hesitant, reaching up, then stopping, then reaching up again. She finally rested it against his chest, the fingertips pausing on one of the buttons of his shirt.
His mind was willing her to unfasten it. But she just let it sit there. The warmth of her fingertips permeating through his designer shirt. He could sense she wanted to say something, and it made him want to stumble and fill the silence.
For the first time in his life, Matteo Bianchi was out of his depth. It was a completely alien feeling for him. In matters of the opposite sex he was always in charge, always the one to initiate things, or, more likely, finish them. He’d never been unsure of himself, never uncomfortable.
But from the minute he’d met this woman with a warm smile and thoughtful heart, he just hadn’t known how to deal with her. She had a way of looking at him as he answered a question that let him know his blasé, offhand remarks didn’t wash with her. She didn’t push. She didn’t need to. He was quite sure that, if she wanted to, Phoebe Gates would take no prisoners. But the overwhelming aura from Phoebe was one of warmth, of kindness and sincerity. And it was making his heart beat quicker every minute.
She pulled back and blew out a long breath, watching him with her steady eyes. She glanced down at her watch. “Yup—two minutes past. I guess we missed the big countdown.”
It would be so easy. So easy to make a mistake here. So easy to do everything wrong, just because it might feel a little right. “I don’t think we did,” he said softly.
For a few seconds they just sat and breathed. Her fingers intertwined with his. His sallow skin with her light coffee skin. They seemed to match perfectly.
“Give me a minute,” he said as he jumped to his feet. She looked a little surprised but didn’t speak. There was almost a roaring in his ears as he raced first up the stairs to grab some pillows and another set of blankets, then he grabbed his car keys to head out to the car.
He shook his head as he glanced at the icy driveway, taking careful steps to find what he was looking for from the glove box of the car. A few minutes later he was back in the library.
Phoebe looked a little self-conscious now, tugging at her sleeves and biting her bottom lip. Her eyes widened at the pillows. But Matteo knew exactly what he was doing. He kept things easy. He kept things relaxed as he threw the pillows on the floor. “It’s late. I figured we’re both tired by now. Here, I thought the cushions might be a little uncomfortable. You’re right, the rest of the house is just too cold. So, we’ll camp down here tonight and sort things out tomorrow. I even have a surprise.” He couldn’t help but smile as a frown creased Phoebe’s brow.
“What surprise?”
He pulled the candy bars from behind his back and tossed them toward her. “Don’t let it be said that I don’t have any vices. I keep a secret stash in my glove box. Don’t you remember as a child all the best movies had kids having midnight feasts? Think of this as our own version.”
The tension in Phoebe’s shoulders dissipated a little. She stared at the four candy bars scattered on the bedclothes in front of her and looked up and gave him a little smile. “Do I get first pick?”
“Always,” he said as he plumped down beside her. “I’m a gentleman, didn’t you know that?”
There was a pause. A second where their gazes meshed. An understanding. There was no pressure here. There were no uncomfortable thoughts. He wasn’t going to pursue something. He had too much respect for her for that.
He wanted things to be on her terms. Strictly speaking, Phoebe was an employee. It didn’t matter if it was only for a few weeks.
Then, there was the fact they were currently stranded here. Above all he wanted Phoebe to feel safe around him. He might hate the fact he was going to have to spend the night in this house—but Phoebe being here made everything a whole lot easier.
The truth was, he probably wouldn’t have found the album without her. And if she hadn’t been here he would certainly have made the foolhardy decision to try and travel back on the icy roads rather than stay here alone.
That simple statement seemed to have done the trick. Phoebe grabbed one of the pillows and put it next to her. It seemed that bunking down in front of the fire wasn’t so scary after all. She gave a slow nod and held her hand over one bar, then another. “Decisions, decisions,” she teased. “I’d hate to make the wrong choice.”
“I’m not sure you ever make the wrong choice.” The words were out before he had time to think about them. “Look what you’ve done with the house so far,” he added quickly. Trying to keep things simple.
Phoebe’s eyebrows were raised, but she lowered them again and closed her hand over the chocolate and caramel bar.
“Thank goodness,” he sighed as he whipped the raspberry and dark chocolate from under her nose.
Phoebe held up her bar. “If only we had coffee to go with these.”
He held up his hands. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
Phoebe took a bite of her chocolate bar, then settled her blankets out. She gave him a cute smile. “Who says you’re good?”