HE WOKE UP to caramel-colored limbs tangled around his own, and tight springy curls just under his nose. Their breathing was synched. Phoebe’s chest rose and fell with his own. The remnants of last night’s passion was evident throughout the room. Her shoes were near the doorway. Her pink dress on the wooden floor, close to his pale blue shirt. His trousers were crumpled near the bottom of the bed. As for their underwear? He had no idea what had happened to it.
For the first time in thirty-five years Matteo finally felt a true connection to someone outside his family. He’d had no idea about Phoebe’s mom. A tiny selfish part of him had been initially disappointed that she hadn’t braved the plane journey for him—but that was ridiculous. Phoebe Gates was the bravest woman he’d ever met. She’d lost her fiancé, helped her mother fight cancer, then faced her biggest fear to complete a job. And the job wouldn’t be completed for over a week. Somehow he knew that in that space of time Phoebe could work her magic and sprinkle her fairy dust on this villa. Right now, he was contemplating how many excuses he could make for work that would allow him to stay here this week in Rome with Phoebe.
He hadn’t had a vacation in...how long? Plus, he could fly up and down to some of the vineyards in Tuscany in one day. He could have breakfast with Phoebe in Rome, leave her to do her work while he completed his, then meet her for dinner at night back in Rome. And then...
Something squeezed inside him. Today felt different. Today was the morning after the night before.
The first time he’d shared the secret he’d kept since he was five years old.
For years he’d been haunted by the sight of his beautiful sleeping mother. Thankful she looked so peaceful after a strange few days. Except she hadn’t been sleeping. As a child, he would never have known that. Should never have known that. And he’d actually sat on the floor of her room for a while, playing with his trains while Brianna gurgled in the cradle.
It was only when Brianna had started to get noisier and his mother hadn’t roused that he’d gone to find someone else. At five, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to pick up the squirming bundle. But he certainly hadn’t been ready for the reaction that had followed.
Those days all blurred into one. Police cars. A quietly spoken doctor. People dressed in black around his father. A funeral that he’d never been told about and certainly not been part of. The invasion of a million Italian relatives who all squeezed him tight and whispered to his father. As for the house at the Hamptons? It had more or less been left exactly as they’d found it. They’d been whisked away to the apartment near Central Park where two female relatives of his father had helped settle him and his brother and sister, before hiring help for the new apartment.
But that horrible feeling of something being really wrong had never left him. As a child he’d learned quickly not to ask his father anything about his mother—it just seemed to leave him eternally sad.
As an adult, he’d made a few enquiries. It hadn’t been easy. But even when he knew the truth his father had still been pained to talk about it. He’d told Matteo to remember his mother as before, not in her last few days, and not to mention it to his brother or sister.
And Matteo, being the good Italian son that he was, respected his father’s wishes.
Suicide. The one subject most people didn’t want to discuss. Phoebe’s face had crumpled last night. But the one thing that had struck him completely was her empathy. Empathy for the confusion his mother must have been feeling.
But that didn’t surprise him. Not at all. On every occasion, Phoebe had proved to him what a good person she was.
But was he as good a person as Phoebe was? Something was unsettling him. Phoebe had been brilliant last night. But there was more. She was blossoming. Phoebe had always had an internal glow—but when he’d first met her it had been tempered.
Yet ever since they’d touched down in Rome, the sparkle in her eyes and passionate nature had been brimming over.
Something twisted inside. Should he really be doing this? He’d never felt a connection like this. He’d never let himself. What if he wasn’t enough for Phoebe? The last thing he’d ever want to do was dim the light in the vibrant, happy person she’d become. He was so used to keeping secrets. So used to keeping his emotions in check. Could he ever behave any differently?
And while he was comfortable here, lying with her in his arms, she’d made him face up to his next reality. At some point, he would have to speak to Vittore and Brianna. Just not right now. When Brianna had the baby he would make sure he was around her constantly. He would watch. He would monitor. He’d made a few casual enquiries about what to do if he needed to find some professional help. He was confident, in this day and age, things would be fine. And once that stage had passed, once Brianna had her healthy baby and was settled, he could wait and tell them both at a later date. Things would be fine.
“Hey...” came a murmur.
He glanced down. Phoebe was rubbing her brown eyes; she gave him a sleep-filled smile. “Hey,” he replied.
Her stomach gave an involuntary grumble and she let out a deep laugh as she pulled her body back from his and flopped back next to him. Her eyes were twinkling as she turned to him. “I guess this is what happens when you cheat me out of my Italian ravioli.”
“I cheated you out of your Italian ravioli?” He leaned his head on one hand so he could get closer to her.
Her smile spread from ear to ear. She looked relaxed. She looked happy. Something struck him. This was the first time he’d seen her like this. It was almost as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was something about her eyes. A different kind of shine.
He was getting to see the true heart of Phoebe.
She winked at him. “I also missed dessert.” Her hand snaked up around his neck again as she leaned in. “I kind of think that’s your fault too. How do you plan on making it up to me?”
He laughed as his hand slid along her silky skin. This felt perfect. It felt so right. If only he could stay just here. If only he could freeze time and let things stay like this. Not have to think about anything else.
Planet Phoebe. No worrying about family. No worrying about business. No selling houses. Just spending the rest of his time with a warm, beautiful, good-spirited woman.
Her stomach growled again. She flipped him onto his back and swung her leg over his body, leaning above him. “Enough, Mr. Bianchi. I think it’s time you introduced me to what Italians have for breakfast.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Well...when you put it like that...”
She lifted her finger to wag it at him but he spun her onto her back so quickly the breath left her body.
He winked at her. “Let me show you.”
* * *
The day couldn’t be better. Last night had been beautiful, surprising, and then emotional, tense and unbelievably hot.
Every time she closed her eyes she could still feel Matteo’s breath on her skin, feel his lips trailing across hers and feel his beating heart next to hers.
The connection was so strong. It was as if now she’d finally decided she was ready to move on, her body and brain had decided to catch up on three years and move at breakneck speed. And although she had the odd thought of caution, Matteo seemed to be matching her every step of the way.
Today had been magical. Matteo had shown her the sights in Rome. He’d taken her to the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican and St Peter’s Basilica. Instead of going by chauffeur-driven car, they’d joined the tourists and Phoebe had loved it.
She’d got to see the excitement and wonder on everyone else’s faces—just like her own—all the while having Matteo’s rich Italian voice in her ear giving her insight and information like her own personal tour guide.
As they lunched at a little restaurant near the Vatican Matteo’s phone rang. He finished the call quickly with a huge smile on his face.
She leaned across the table toward him. “What? What is it?”
He shrugged and held up his hands. “It seems that word has got out. The villa isn’t even on the market, and yet, my solicitor has just had a very substantial offer on the property subject to a viewing next week.”
“Really?” Phoebe could hardly believe it.
“Do you think you can have the house ready for next week?”
She nodded her head. “Of course I can. No problem at all.” She raised her glass of wine toward him. “It just goes to show you, someone has probably had their eye on your family villa for years, and has just been waiting for word that you were ready to sell.”
Matteo nodded. “It seems likely, and, to be honest, I’m glad. I want the house to be lived in, to be enjoyed the way it should be. I’ve always hated the fact that the villa has virtually been unused for the last ten years. It should be brought back to life.” He lifted his wine glass to Phoebe. “It seems you might just be my good luck charm.”
Her heart gave a little flutter. She clinked her glass against his. “Maybe I am. I guess we just need to find out.”
The smile he gave her in return sent little shivers of expectation down her spine and they spent the rest of the afternoon drinking wine and coffee, then finishing with the most wonderful tiramisu. Matteo held her hand across the table the whole time, listening to her ideas for the villa with interest. But when he started talking about plans for them going home her expression must have changed.
“Phoebe, are you okay?”
She nodded nervously. One mention of going home made her mouth go dry. She’d made it on the plane out here. Of course she knew she’d have to make the same journey as before. But last time around, there wasn’t so much time to think about it. Matteo had booked the flights, she’d visited her doctor and felt as if there was a push to come here. The whole chance of not being paid had huge implications for her; it was the biggest motivator for getting on that plane.
But for the journey home?
Matteo now knew about her mother. He wouldn’t withhold payment. Yes, she would complete the job in Rome, but right now the thought of getting on another plane was making her want to be sick.
She gave Matteo a weak smile. “I’m just trying not to think about the flight home. I know it’s more than a few days away. But I guess one flight isn’t enough to cure my fear. I’m worried I’ll be like this forever. Spending my whole life wanting to be sick all over my shoes and having palpitations at the mere thought of a flight.”
Matteo put his other hand over the top of hers and squeezed. “But I’ll be with you. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Don’t worry. And this time, you’ll have my full attention. You don’t need to worry.” He gave her a wicked smile. “I have lots of ways to distract you—if you’ll let me. Or, I can just hold your hand. And you can squeeze mine until there’s no blood flow and it’s a strange shade of purple. Whatever you like.”
She took a deep breath and smiled. She would always be nervous. She didn’t imagine those feelings would ever go away. But having someone who would support her would make things a little easier. Someone she could rely on. Someone she could trust.
It swept over her. Like a warm, soothing breeze. Someone she might love.
For the tiniest second she couldn’t breathe. It felt as if a little flower were blooming and opening in her chest. She’d had her heart sealed off and protected for so long—she’d just never thought she would get here again.
And now, when she least expected it, Matteo had just bolted into her life. With his brisk, businesslike manner she hadn’t expected to be attracted to him. But somehow or other, this man with so many barriers in place, yet with a rich sexy accent and the occasional cheeky twinkle in his eye, had made her feel a whole lot of something.
Sometimes love caught you unawares.
She reached her other hand over Matteo’s. “I think I might like that.” She smiled. They stayed like that for a few minutes, their gazes meshed, just touching, against the backdrop of St Peter’s Basilica—one of the most beautiful places in the world. Life really couldn’t be more perfect.
She’d told him her biggest secrets, and he’d told her his. But together they could do this. He would support her. And she would support him with what he needed to do when he got home.
Matteo reached over and gently stroked the side of her face. “Thank you for being here,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine being here with anyone else. Just you, Phoebe. You make Rome perfect for me.”
Her heart swelled in her chest. He felt the same as she did. So she did what felt entirely natural. She leaned forward and met his lips with hers. “You do the same for me.”
Nothing felt so sweet. Nothing felt so right. She would remember this moment forever.
When they finally pulled apart, Matteo laughed and straightened his clothes. “I guess we should take a walk. I think I might need to cool off a little.”
Strolling through Rome with Matteo’s arm over her shoulders couldn’t have been sweeter.
* * *
She should have really spent all day working at the villa in Rome—after all, that was why she was there—but she was confident she would be able to do the task over the next week.
Since they’d arrived back at the villa she’d spent the last hour writing notes for work tomorrow, and then dressed for dinner. Apparently, tonight she would get to taste the best ravioli in Italy.
She tugged at the red dress she was wearing. It was a little longer than she normally wore, but the light floaty fabric skimmed her curves in a way she liked and it would be perfect for dinner.
Matteo was waiting for her downstairs. He met her with a kiss that made her knees tremble and sent little sparks flying around her body.
But as they went to leave Matteo’s phone rang.
“I’ll switch it off,” he said quickly as he pulled it from his pocket. But his brow dipped sharply once he glanced at the screen.
He didn’t hesitate to answer. “Brianna?”
Phoebe felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She walked straight over and put her hands on his other arm. “What is it?”
He changed from English and started speaking rapidly in Italian. She could see him trying to stay calm, even though his words were coming out more frantically and more sternly.
She hated the fact she couldn’t understand almost as much as she hated the fact she couldn’t hear what was being said at the other side. “Is she okay?”
Matteo blanched. His tone of voice changed. She heard his brother’s name. Vittore. At that point, he launched into a tirade, before walking over to the house phone and starting to dial another number.
“What can I do? What can I do to help you?”
But Matteo didn’t seem to hear her. He moved between phone calls. Hanging up on the mobile and giving rapid instructions—still in Italian—into the house phone.
When he finally hung up he looked as if he’d aged ten years in a few minutes. “What is it?” she persisted.
“Brianna. She went into hospital yesterday and didn’t let Vittore tell me. Things are bad. They have to deliver the baby in the next few hours. I have to go home.”
Phoebe blinked then nodded. “Absolutely. Of course you do. I’ll pack.”
“No.”
His voice was sharp. It was almost as if he’d switched off and gone into automatic pilot. “You stay here. You finish the house. Make it ready for the viewing next week that will complete the sale. That’s what I need you to do right now.”
“But your family?” Phoebe took a deep breath. “Maybe you should speak to Vittore before you take off. Let him know you’re worried. Tell him why. He’ll be with Brianna for the next few hours.”
He drew back and looked at her as if she were crazy. “I can’t tell Vittore something like that on the phone. That’s ridiculous. I need to be with my family right now. I can’t stay here with you.”
It was like a chill washing over her body. It wasn’t the words. It was the way that he said them. In the last twenty-four hours she’d never felt as connected to someone as she did to Matteo. But he was acting as if the last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened—as if they meant nothing at all. Had she been stupid? Had she imagined something that wasn’t actually real? Her automatic reaction was to self-protect. To withdraw. “I’m not asking you to. I absolutely understand you going to your sister. I would never ask you not to do that.”
She turned around, trying to ignore the pain washing over her body.
She put her hand on the metallic rail of the staircase and held her breath, squeezing her eyes closed for a second, and praying that he might reconsider—praying that he might say something else. Anything to acknowledge the connection between them. Anything that might make her realize this wasn’t all one-sided. That he might love her as much as she loved him.
But there was nothing. Matteo completely ignored her. He shouted a few commands in Italian to some of the staff at the villa then stalked off into his study to grab a few items.
A few minutes later the car pulled up in front of the villa, ready to take him straight to the airport. Phoebe hadn’t moved much. She’d only made it to the top of the stairs.
There was a fist clenching around her heart. She knew how upset he was. And she got it. She did.
But she also knew that no matter how worried or upset she was about her mother, she wouldn’t treat Matteo so dismissively. She would at the very least try and take a few minutes to explain—to let him understand.
But it seemed that Italian men were different. She knew Italians were famous for family loyalty. But she couldn’t imagine that Matteo could love his family any more than she did hers.
But, it appeared, it didn’t matter. Matteo appeared a few moments later with a bag in hand.
“Matteo?”
He glanced up at her. But the look he gave her was so detached—a world away from the connection of earlier. Her insides felt as though she were on a roller coaster.
His shutters were back in place. The ones he continually hid behind. The ones she’d thought she’d broken through.
He let out a sigh. But it seemed almost dismissive. He shook his head. “It’s better this way, Phoebe.” He paused then added, “Better for us both.” He turned and swept out of the door into the dark night.
It appeared that her plane ride home would be taken alone—the thing that she’d always dreaded.
She couldn’t depend on Matteo after all. And why should she?
She was just an employee.