The Italian's Doorstep Surprise

He smiled down at her. It gave him so much pleasure to see the joy in her eyes. And at such a small thing—a honeymoon on the Amalfi Coast. He looked forward to a lifetime of seeing her lovely face light up with delight, knowing he was the one who’d put it there.

Not to mention a lifetime of nights where he made sure her full lips were bruised from the passion of his kisses.

As they came down the steps to the tarmac, with his security chief following, Nico saw Gianni, his personal assistant from the Rome office, holding a briefcase. Behind him, he saw a large SUV and a driver... Nico’s mouth fell open.

“Welcome to Italy, sir.” Benny Rossini, the young chauffeur he’d banished from New York City, smiled at Nico’s new bride. “Honora.”

Her face lit up. “Benny! You’re here now?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I’m managing the new villa.” He puffed up his chest a little. “A promotion. But I can still be your driver wherever you need to go.” He gave a low laugh. “Driving along the Amalfi Coast is not for the fainthearted.”

Nico scowled. When he’d told his residential staffing manager to move the young driver to another job, he’d never imagined he’d move Rossini here. He felt irritated. Really, Sergio should have known. He paid his staff well enough to expect them to read his mind.

It didn’t matter, Nico told himself firmly. Honora was his wife now. Besides, they’d be at his estate for only two weeks. Surely he could endure his employee’s presence for such a short time. And it wasn’t like Rossini and Honora would be spending time alone together.

“Good to see you, Rossini,” he said coldly, taking Honora’s hand. As he helped her into the back of the luxury SUV, Nico added, without looking back, “Gianni, with me.”

While his security chief, Frank Bauer, followed with their luggage in a separate vehicle, his assistant accompanied Nico into the back of the SUV, which had been fitted with two facing rows. Before the chauffeur even started the engine, Nico was speaking to his assistant in rapid Italian, telling him he wished to restart legal efforts to force the Villa Caracciola from the elderly widow’s possession. Gianni seemed surprised, then moved forward, pulling up legal documents on his tablet.

Glancing up toward Benny Rossini, sitting in the driver’s seat, Nico wondered whether he was listening. He didn’t trust the young man, and the last thing he wanted was for his stepmother to be forewarned—or, for that matter, for Honora to hear a version of the story that might make Nico look like he was somehow the villain in this. Pressing the button to lift the privacy shield, he turned back to his assistant with a scowl, and told him in the same language that any delay was unacceptable. He wanted the Caracciola property now.

“Oh.” Honora looked between the two men in dismay. “Are you planning to discuss business on the drive? In Italian?”

He saw how tired she looked, and was worried about her and the baby. “Feel free to rest. The drive to my villa will take an hour.”

She stared at him for a moment, then produced a sudden cheerful smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll just go sit in the front with Benny.”

And before Nico could stop her, she hopped out of the back seat and went to sit with the young, handsome driver on the other side of the privacy screen.

As the SUV pulled away from the airport ten seconds later, Nico’s assistant prattled on about how they could get around a governmental delay, which apparently was based on some claim that the widow’s villa, two hundred years old, had “historical and architectural significance”—a classic stunt.

But he was distracted now. All he could think about was his wife, on the other side of the privacy screen, sitting beside Rossini, who was clearly infatuated with her, and though he had little money, perhaps the young man could offer her things Nico couldn’t. Like emotion. Like vulnerability. Like love.

A curse went through Nico’s mind.

“Sir? What do you think?” his assistant said in Italian into the sudden awkward silence.

Nico bared his teeth in a grin. “Just do whatever it takes to win.”

His eyes strayed toward the closed privacy screen. He wondered what they were talking about. He wanted to lower the screen, but that would be an admission of jealousy, which he didn’t want to make. He couldn’t show Honora how important she was to him. That would give her too much power and make him feel...weak.

He had nothing to worry about, he told himself firmly. After all, it wasn’t like his employee would be stupid enough to make a pass at his wife, with Nico himself sitting in the back of the SUV.

* * *

“I’m telling you, I’m in love with you!”

Sitting in the front seat, Honora drew back from the young driver, scandalized. “How can you say such a thing! I’m Nico’s wife. I’m pregnant with his baby!”

Benny looked mournful, in a handsome, pudding-cheeked sort of way. He reminded her of a particularly forlorn basset hound. “I wish I’d only been brave enough to tell you before he seduced you...”

“Stop it!” As he started to reach his hand toward her, she slapped it away. “Watch the road!”

He did as he was told, gripping the steering wheel with both hands as they went around a taut hairpin curve on the cliff, practically dangling off the edge. It was a little terrifying, especially with her longtime phobia about car crashes. But not as awful as being pestered like this.

“And for your information,” she added tartly, “Nico didn’t seduce me. If anything, I seduced him!”

“No, that can’t be...”