His mind in chaos, Jonathan stared at Isabella. And the more he stared the more his heart melted. The more he wanted to hold her, shake her, ply her with kisses. With her ponytail and no makeup, she’d never looked so vulnerable and so desirable. Why in the world had he fallen for this feisty, vivacious and opinionated, yet generous and determined young woman who complicated his life to no end?
Of course he flew all the way here to protect her from that lewd jerk, Marco. He’d annihilate the bastard if he dared approach her. After tasting and enjoying Isabella’s kisses, Jonathan considered her his exclusive girlfriend.
Still reeling from her devious plot, he weighed the pluses and minuses of a temporary marriage. His frown slowly relaxed. To think of it, performing as newlyweds for a week might have its advantages—delectable advantages. Being introduced as her husband granted him the right to act the part.
A smile tugged at his lips as he wrapped an arm around Isabella’s back. “All right, sweet wife. You’ll brief me on the details later.”
A relieved breath whooshed out of her. “Oh, Jonathan, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’ll tell you shortly.” His smile turned wicked and a blush covered her face. “For now let’s celebrate our wedding.” He pressed her against him and gave her a long, bone-melting kiss.
Clapping of hands pulled them apart.
Emma and her mother smiled to their ears. “Aren’t they cute, Nonna Regina? So in love,” Emma crooned as she stared at them.
But Isabella’s grandmother frowned. If looks could kill, Jonathan would be writhing with pain at her feet. “Okay, enough of that now. I feel tired and need to rest my old bones.”
“We’re going home right away, Nonna Regina,” the man standing beside Mrs. Cantari said. Emma introduced Isabella’s dear husband to her mother and her father who’d arrived during Jonathan’s discussion with Isabella.
Framed by his wife and the two young women, Signor Dorrano supported the old lady’s arm to lead her out of the airport and settle her in his van. Pushing a cart loaded with the suitcases, Jonathan followed the group and stowed the luggage in the back of the van, then took the seat next to Isabella and casually stretched his arm behind her shoulders.
During the drive, Nonna Regina carried on an Italian conversation with her hosts. The names Lorenzo and Marco kept coming up.
Unable to understand much of the loud exchange, Jonathan relied on the gesticulations and names to give him a hint of what was said. Soon he gave up following the conversation to focus on the stunning view.
Signor Dorrano sped along a coastline that contorted around bays and beaches. On the inland side of the road, verdant landscape cocooned in mountains dominated the scenery. “We’re almost there,” he informed them. “The whole drive takes about twenty minutes.”
The van entered a secluded area protected by an electric gate and stopped in front of a two-story Mediterranean-style villa hunkered at the end of the driveway. Orange and lemon trees randomly planted on both sides provided a colorful and aromatic ambiance.
“It’s gorgeous.” Jonathan sincerely admired the magnificent setting.
“You should see the backyard. It’s a private beach,” Isabella said.
“Did you grow up in a similar place?”
“My grandparents’ villa is much bigger. We all lived there. I’ll take you to visit as soon as we solve our problem.”
Jonathan unloaded the luggage. Maria Dorrano gave him a sheepish look. “I had a room with two twin beds prepared for Nonna Regina and Isabella, but now we’ll prepare the other guest room that has a double bed for you and your new wife, and—”
“No, no, no,” Nonna Regina protested. “I need Isabella with me at night to help me.”
“But they are newly wedded,” Emma protested.
“Tse, tse. I’m an old woman who needs my granddaughter’s help. Not to mention, she’s almost given me a heart attack with her recent behavior.”
Isabella stepped closer to her grandmother. “I’m sorry, Nonna. Of course I’ll stay with you. Sleeping by himself for a few nights is not going to kill Jonathan. Right, amore mio?”
Her dear husband choked at her endearment. “Not to worry, amore mio. I’ll be dreaming of you all night. And we’ll make up later.”
Color flooded her cheeks and she averted her gaze.
He hastened to put the various suitcases in the assigned rooms. He came out of the bedroom assigned to the ladies when Mrs. Cantari painstakingly climbed the last steps to the second landing. “I need a word with you, young man.” She pushed him back inside the room and shook her finger under his nose. “I appreciate the fact that you came all the way here to keep Isabella out of harm, but careful how you tread around my granddaughter.”
“Mrs. Cantari, I had nothing to do with the story she concocted.”
“I know,” she said with a softer tone. “Still, Marco loves her and wants to marry her. Two years ago I had hoped she’d return his feelings, but it didn’t happen.”
Jonathan didn’t like hearing that the old lady condoned Marco’s behavior. Which didn’t change his decision to smash the man if he approached Isabella.
“Mrs. Cantari—”
“Call me Nonna Regina, like everyone else here,” she said with a pleasant smile. “You see, Jonathan, I’m an old woman with a weak heart. I can go any time.” She wiped the air with her hand. “Isabella lost her parents and her older brother. I can’t afford to leave her alone in this world. If she doesn’t want Marco, we’ll find her a nice Sicilian man. Maybe Emma’s big brother.”
“Huh?” At a loss for words, he stared at the manipulative woman.
“You can go. I will take a nap now.” She walked to the door and called, “Isabella, cara mia, Come and help me. We both need a rest after the long trip and jetlag.”
“Subito, Nonna, coming.” Isabella stepped in and glanced at him, obviously surprised to find him here. “Anything wrong?”
“Nonna Regina will explain.” He put an emphasis on the name, Well, he resented her suggestion to find a nice Sicilian man for Isabella.
Suddenly in a bad mood, he went to his assigned room, kicked off his shoes and undressed to lie down on the large and comfortable bed. After texting Dante that he was staying with Isabella and her grandmother at the Dorranos’, he checked his emails and… He must have drifted off and woke up at five o’clock to shower and change.
Not knowing what to do with himself, Jonathan sauntered down to the family room where he found Signor Dorrano. His host offered him a glass of local wine. “Our island is famous for the Marsala, not only the red one used in cooking, but also a sweet and dry wine,” he informed him in fluent but accented English.
“I’ll have you taste our Sweet Marsala with a touch of Amaretto.” His host filled two glasses and presented Jonathan with one. Signor Dorrano rotated his glass between both hands and inhaled his own drink. “Can you smell the almond aroma? Delicious. To your happiness with your lovely bride.”
Jonathan suppressed a cough. “Thank you. Delicious indeed.”
“According to the legend, the god Bacchus brought pleasure to mankind and wine to Sicily.” Signor Dorrano drank down his wine and refilled his glass.
A moment later, Isabella arrived holding Nonna Regina’s arm. They had both rested and refreshed. Isabella had changed into a flowery long dress with a side-slit exposing her tanned leg and part of her thigh, her hair brushed over her back. Signora Dorrano and Emma followed.
“We have arranged several appointments for Nonna Regina,” Maria said. “First your family lawyer and the judge who ruled on Lorenzo’s case will arrive at six pm, then the chief of police will visit an hour later, and finally our mayor himself will be here to pay his respects.”
“Perfect.” Nonna nodded. “I have the affidavit we prepared in Fort Lauderdale.”
“Let me see that.” Back in his professional skin, Jonathan scanned the English document. “Well-written. Who prepared it for you?”
“Your dear wife,” Nonna replied with obvious pride.
Isabella’s cheeks flushed with a becoming glow.
“You’re gifted. Dante should see this eventually.” He didn’t want to upset the old lady with public demonstrations of affection, but he let his gaze convey his admiration.
A few minutes later, two young people entered the room. Maria introduced him to her daughter Patricia and her son Paolo. Patricia was a cute girl with an agreeable smile. Paolo immediately annoyed Jonathan with his easy charm and friendship with Isabella, especially when he kissed her on the cheeks with too much affection.
“Young people,” Signor Dorrano said. “I want you away until late evening so that Nonna Regina can conduct her business in peace with no interruption.”
“I want to stay here and listen,” Emma begged. “Please, I want to help free Lorenzo.”
“You’ll help him more by being away,” her father said with a tone that brooked no discussion. “Take Jonathan and Isabella and give them a tour of Palermo.”
Nonna Regina crossed her hands. “And pray that I use the right words to convince the chief of police, the judge, and the mayor who wants to be reelected soon.”
Just as she finished talking, the doorbell chimed. Signor Dorrano checked his watch. “Your lawyer is early.”
Patricia flew to the door and returned with two young men. Two tall, dark, and smiling hunks.
“Isabella mia, amore mio.” The tallest hunk caught Isabella in a tight embrace, lifted and swirled her around, and kissed her a dozen times while jabbering in Italian.
Jonathan’s blood pounded in his ears and his patience started to wear thin with the Sicilian mafioso pawing his Isabella. His hands fisted, ready to punch, he barely heard Maria say, “Jonathan, meet our friends Marco and Franco Raveno.”