The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

She flicked on a small lamp in the corner. He sucked in a breath. “Is that a Tiffany?”

She laughed. “Of course not. I didn’t spend that much money. It’s a reproduction. But I thought it helped. There’s very little color in this room, just cream and pale blue. Can you imagine, at night, sitting here, staring out over the dark bay, and flicking on this lamp, having the reflections of the blue, yellow and red glass across the walls? It would be almost magical.”

For a few seconds, Matteo held his breath. He could almost picture it in his head. The trouble was that picture seemed homely. Warm. Inviting. Things he just couldn’t associate with this house anymore.

He kept his voice steady. “Interesting. I think you’ve done a good job in the house, so far.”

Phoebe made the tiniest movement. Did she flinch? Her face appeared a bit pinched. He’d thought he’d just complimented her work, but maybe not.

She swept past him and kept going. “Let’s move up to the second floor.”

They moved back out to the staircase, and Phoebe practically ran up it—obviously trying to shake the memories of being caught dancing on it earlier.

The bedrooms were all finished to a high standard, each with a few unique or quirky items just to personalize the rooms. The bathrooms were similar. Sparkling white, with some yellow or pale blue accessories.

Phoebe walked at speed, moving from room to room and talking constantly. Her work was impeccable. He’d already had a call from the realtor, who had gushed and complimented him so much he’d actually wondered at one stage if she was going to offer to have his baby. The realtor loved the house and had hinted that she predicted a sale would be quick.

“This is obviously the master bedroom so it’s been dressed a little more demurely than the others. Again, since the view is a pivotal part of this room I’ve kept the color palette sedated.”

She was tugging at a little bit of hair at the nape of her neck. She’s nervous. Of course she was. The last time he’d seen her they’d been kissing.

His fingers crackled the paper in his pocket. He’d come here to question her about the expenses. But, as he walked from room to room, he could see exactly where every single cent had been spent. The house wasn’t completely transformed. But it was different.

It felt different. Even to him. There was no question he was still haunted by the memories of his mother. But at least now he could start to dissociate himself from this place. Phoebe had made everything look new. It even smelled different.

Phoebe was still talking. Still tugging at her hair. “So, there’s only a few other rooms. But I don’t think you need to see them.” She turned to face him.

“As you can see, my job here is complete.” She gave him a bright smile that seemed forced. “Maybe we should talk about my payment?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Maybe we should talk about Rome? That is our agreement. Complete both houses, not just one. I can arrange plane tickets for tomorrow. Once I’ve shown you the house, and introduced you to the staff, I can leave.”

Phoebe visibly blanched but Matteo continued, his hands in his pockets as he walked around the room. “You’ve done an excellent job. The look of the house is much improved.” He gave a little smile. “Even though you might have broke the bank this last week.” He moved over to the window and stared out at the bay. Even in the middle of winter, the choppy sea was a mixture of blues and grays. There were a few boats out on the bay. The view was entirely spectacular and would probably be the selling point of this house. “I think it’s time to move forward.”

He turned back around to face Phoebe. She was staring at the floor, fumbling with her hands. “I think that Rome might not work. It would make more sense for you to deal with an Italian interior designer who has a good idea of the best selling points for the Italian market. And the best tradesmen to work with. I have absolutely no grasp of the Italian language. I think I’d be far more of a hindrance than a help.”

Matteo frowned and stepped forward. “But we had an agreement. I asked you to do both houses for me.” He dug his hands a little deeper in his pockets. “And wouldn’t a house in Rome be good for your CV? As well as the house in the Hamptons?” Matteo wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly how much kudos doing this house would give her. He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t want to also have an international mansion on her portfolio.

Phoebe still refused to meet his gaze. She was shaking her head the whole time. Did she even realize she was doing it?

He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “Let me book the flights. When you see the house, you’ll love it.” He started flicking through the contacts in his phone.