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,
“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,
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