The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

Phoebe’s eyebrows were raised, but she lowered them again and closed her hand over the chocolate and caramel bar.

“Thank goodness,” he sighed as he whipped the raspberry and dark chocolate from under her nose.

Phoebe held up her bar. “If only we had coffee to go with these.”

He held up his hands. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

Phoebe took a bite of her chocolate bar, then settled her blankets out. She gave him a cute smile. “Who says you’re good?”

Chapter Five

SHE FELT FUGGY. Was that even a real word?

“Ms. Gates? Ms. Gates, are you here?”

Her mouth was dry and uncomfortable and her back ached. But something was warm. Something felt cozy. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time.

That ease of someone close behind, their body next to hers, a relaxed arm resting over her stomach, and warm breath near her neck.

“Ms. Gates, are you here?” There was a creak. A noise.

Phoebe sat bolt upright. Oh, no. Oh...what?

The joiner was standing at the door of the library. “Oops, excuse me. I saw your car outside and just thought I’d check you were safe.” His eyes fixed behind her, his cheeks flamed and he shook his head and backed out the door. “Sorry.”

“No, Al.” Phoebe jumped to her feet and ran to the door. “I’m sorry. We got stranded here last night with the roads. I couldn’t get the car to move.” She frowned. “Wait a minute. How did you get here? How did you get in?”

Al shrugged. “The gritters have been out since 3:00 a.m. Most of the roads are passable now. The caretaker met me outside. Turned out he’d some rock salt and put it on the driveway this morning.” Al glanced at his watch. “I take it the others will be here any minute.”

“They will?” Phoebe turned on her heel and dashed back into the library. Matteo was already on his feet, tugging at his completely wrinkled shirt and trousers. Thank goodness they were both fully dressed.

Her mind did a bit of a backspin. Things could have totally gone in another direction last night. Part of her was glad it hadn’t, and part of her was secretly disappointed. How would she have felt this morning if things had progressed?

She’d kissed him. She’d kissed Matteo Bianchi. Her boss.

And he’d kissed her back.

It was the first time she’d kissed someone since Jason had died. And the wash of guilt was overwhelming.

What was worse—she hadn’t felt it last night. It hadn’t even crossed her mind last night. What kind of person did that make her? To forget her dead fiancé after three years at the glint of an Italian man’s eyes? Her body started to tremble.

She’d never felt ready. Never felt ready to move on. To take the first step. Her few dates had been disasters. But this had been unexpected—unplanned. What was she thinking?

Matteo looked confused as she walked back in. “You have people working on New Year’s Day?”

She tried to gather her thoughts. Matteo seemed a bit uncomfortable. Maybe he was having regrets too. But this was business. This was work. She replied quickly. “Actually, you do. And you’re paying them a big bonus for doing it. This is a rush job—remember?”

He didn’t look particularly happy. He tied his shoes and stared disdainfully at the crumpled bedclothes on the floor. Phoebe winced. Yesterday, they had been smooth and pristine on the beds upstairs. In the cold light of day, it looked as if the adults in the room had been romping all night.

She bent down and scooped them up into her arms. Last thing she wanted was the rest of the people working in the house to see this. It made her feel like some kind of naughty school kid—even though nothing had really happened.

“Let me take care of these,” she said quickly to Matteo as she disappeared back out of the door.

It only took a second to realize her mistake. A waft of his aftershave floated up from the blankets and her footsteps faltered. That kiss. How could she forget that kiss? The one that made her float toward the ceiling and never come back down. Just that memory made her heart rate quicken all over again. She kept walking to the kitchen, trying not to rethink things, ignoring the way that all the little hairs on her arms had just stood on end.

Jason. She should be thinking about Jason. Her breathing stuttered along with her footsteps. For the last year, the memories that used to be so vivid had started to fade a little. But right now, that just made her feel a million times worse. Was she going to forget about him completely? Her brain was so muddled. First her mother being sick and needing treatment, then the hospital bills, followed by the dream job, and the mysterious Italian. It was no wonder she couldn’t think straight.