The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

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.