The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

She looked at the pile of bedclothes she still had to go through. There was no reason why she couldn’t start looking at the other rooms. She had cushions, new lights, new lamp shades. There was a world of work she could do right now. Enthusiasm sparked inside her. Now, where had she put those prints she’d bought the other day?

* * *

“You look like crap.”

Brianna had never been one to hold back.

Matteo waved his hand and shook his head while he finished his call. Brianna swept through the door and strode across his office. She was wearing a bright blue designer coat that she took off and practically dumped in his lap.

Patience had never been his sister’s greatest virtue.

She sighed, then tapped the desk, before finally perching on the edge of it. Matteo finished his call then leant back in his chair. “What do you want?”

He knew not to ignore her. Any man who ignored Brianna Bianchi was a fool, and soon learned the consequences of their actions.

“I’m ready to meet her.”

“Ready to meet who?”

She waved her hand nonchalantly. “That girl that you won’t really talk about. Makes me suspicious. I definitely have to meet her.”

Matteo shook his head as he stared at the laptop on his desk. There was a problem at one of the vineyards in Portugal. He really needed to call. Soon.

Brianna licked her glossy lips. As usual, his sister looked impeccable. And very much like their mother.

Brianna always liked to be reminded of that. She’d only been a few weeks old when their mother had died, so didn’t have any memories of her at all—only a few family photographs. But for Matteo it was harder. He had lots of memories.

Brianna had the same shiny dark hair and eyes, the same skin tone and frame. It was uncanny, and sometimes she even did little movements similar to their mother. There was no way it could be learned behavior. It could only be genetics. And sometimes that terrified Matteo. Especially now.

He’d always been close to his brother and sister. How would they feel about him if he ever told them the truth about their mother? Would they hate him, resent him for keeping quiet? He couldn’t bear the thought of not being this close to them. His insides twisted again. For now, it was best that he continued to keep his secret. He could watch Brianna. Keep close to her. That way, he’d know if there was anything to worry about. He wasn’t a child anymore. He was an adult. An informed adult.

Brianna rested her hands on her swollen abdomen. “What’s she like anyway? I looked her up. She’s pretty.” She gave Matteo a sideways glance. “Very pretty, actually. And she wasn’t wearing a ring in the picture that I found. Is she attached?”

Matteo couldn’t even hide his surprise at his sister’s brazenness. “Why on earth would that matter?”

Brianna arched her back then stood up and walked around the desk, all the while her eyes carefully focused on her brother. “Well, of course, it doesn’t. I’m just curious. How soon will she be finished?”

Matteo kept his voice steady. “Just a few weeks, I expect. Phoebe seems super-organized. She’s running the place like an army colonel.”

Brianna’s eyes gleamed and she leaned across the desk toward him. “So, it’s Phoebe already, and not Ms. Gates?”

He met her gaze square on. “Stop it, Brianna. You being pregnant won’t prevent me from throwing you out of my office.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “As if.” Then her face fell a little. “I’m twitchy. I feel as if I’m going stir crazy. I’d love to be at the house in Rome. I’d love to help with the renovations.” She rested her hands on her stomach. “But some people have decided I shouldn’t fly.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “The whole world thinks you shouldn’t fly right now.”

Brianna bit her bottom lip and gave him that look. The one she always used when she wanted something.

“What? What is it?”

“I wondered if you would mind having a look for something for me.”

Matteo frowned. “What do you mean?”

Brianna averted her gaze. “I’ve been looking for some photographs. Dad told me about them. But he could never find them.”

Matteo felt a chill across his skin. “What photographs?”

Brianna licked her lips. He could tell she’d been practicing this conversation in her head. “Their wedding photographs. Dad thought he might have left them in the house. He said that they might have been left in one of the cupboards. They’re in a red photograph album.”

Matteo could feel every little hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Dad told you this when?”

Brianna lifted her darkened eyelids. “Just before he died. He told me he wanted me to see their wedding pictures. So I would always remember just how happy they’d been.” Her voice shook a little. And that for Brianna was big. She hardly ever let her emotions betray her. “It was just after I told him I was pregnant.”

“And you just mention this now?” Brianna flinched at his snappiness.

He cringed. He couldn’t help it.

Brianna waved her hand angrily. “There’s never been a good time. Dad was sick, then he died. Then we had to sort out the business. Then it was Christmas and we had to agree about the house sales. Now is the time to talk about this. Before we sell the house at the Hamptons.” She blew part of her fringe off her face. “If this is such a bother for you, Matteo, I’ll do it myself. I thought, since you’d already spent some time down there, it might be something you could do.” She lifted her chin and stared off into the corner. “I could always ask Vittore.”

She knew just what buttons to press. Always had. Always would. The gift of being a sister.

“Which cupboard? Where?”

She shrugged. “He wasn’t specific. He just said that they’d cleared things out quickly and maybe the photographs had been left behind.”

Matteo sucked in

a deep breath in an effort to keep calm. He didn’t want Brianna to know how difficult he was finding this. He didn’t want to give any indication of how many memories being back at the house had stirred up. He was head of the family now. He had to show strength. Resilience. And he had that in spades. It just felt as if he’d had to keep reminding himself of that in the last few days.

His eyes rested on his sister’s stomach. Especially now. How could he say no? He stood up quickly. “Of course I’ll look for the album. If it’s there—I’ll find it.”

He walked across the room and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll let you know how I get on.”

Brianna gave a nod of her head. “I knew I could count on you.”

* * *

“Phoebe? Do you realize what time it is?”

Phoebe jerked up from where she’d been contemplating how to redress the gorgeous library. She’d missed this room on her first visit to the house. It seemed that when the Bianchis had first moved in they hadn’t gotten around to clearing out the masses of books that the former actress had owned. Some of the subject matter almost made Phoebe blush. It seemed there had been much more to the demure actress than met the eye.

She turned to the door where Al, one of the joiners, was standing. His tool chest was in his hand and he was already wearing his jacket. She looked at her watch.

“Seven o’clock? Really? I had no idea. Al, I’m sorry. It’s New Year’s Eve. You should have gone home an hour ago.”

Al shrugged. “I was in the middle of things, but I’m going to head off now. Family party. The snow is getting worse. Where do you live? I’m in Hoboken. Can I drop you somewhere?”

Phoebe shook her head swiftly. “No, of course not. I’m fine. I have my car.”

Al raised his eyebrows. “Be careful out there. I’m not sure your car is designed for roads covered in snow. And it already looks as if some of the New Year revelers are out.”

She gave a smile and nodded. “No problems.”

Al disappeared and thirty minutes later Phoebe had finally decided on a plan for the library. She’d never been a fan of New Years. Her mom had let her know well in advance that she was having a glass of wine with a neighbor, then going home to bed. Phoebe had no reason to rush back into the city and experience the Times Square madness. She walked through to the kitchen with her sketch pad in her hands. The window ledge of the kitchen was stacked with snow. Phoebe wrinkled her brow and sat the pad down on the large kitchen table. Maybe she should head home—that snow was deeper than she’d expected.