The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

“It’s just...”

“Phoebe, I don’t have time for this.” He couldn’t hide his frustration. Timing was everything. February was a crucial time for his business. He couldn’t be distracted. He needed to deal with the house in Rome now. “I was clear. I offered you a quarter of a million dollars to dress two houses for me. One in the Hamptons. One in Rome. You agreed.” He shrugged. “I don’t take kindly to people who renege on business agreements. There are...consequences.”

She blinked and he could see her brain trying to interpret those words. “You mean if I don’t come to Rome, you won’t pay me?” The shock on her face was clear.

“We had a deal, Phoebe. You keep your end of the bargain. I keep mine. I like to deal with professionals. I thought that’s what you were.” His eyes swept up and down her. Taking in the yellow dress and nude heels. “Maybe I was wrong.”

Her words were strained. Her jaw clenched. “I am a professional. My job here proves it. This house will sell easily.”

He walked straight over to her. Closer than he intended. He could see every inch of her smooth clear skin. The mascara outlining her long dark lashes. The hint of red on her lips. Her very kissable lips. “Your professionalism is proved once you complete the job.”

He met her dark gaze. He couldn’t read what was going on in those strong brown eyes. Phoebe’s eyes had always flashed a multitude of emotions. Today? It was almost as if a set of shutters had closed across them. They were angry. Detached.

She tilted her chin up toward him. He could see the tiny pulse at the base of her throat. “What time do you need me?”

“I’ll have a car pick you up at 6:00 p.m.”

“Fine.” She turned on her heel, her yellow dress swirling around her knees, as she walked out of the room.

Chapter Six

SHE HADN’T EVEN met his gaze since she’d climbed in the car.

Pride and terror wouldn’t let her. But as the car had got closer and closer to the airport she could almost hear the tattoo of her heartbeat against her chest.

The worst thing had been her mother. When she’d told her she was going to Rome to do a job, her mother’s eyes had filled with tears and she’d cupped Phoebe’s face and told her how proud she was of her. And how it was time.

All the words of fear and anxiety that had been ready to spill out of her mouth had halted instantly. Her mother was feeling well. Her treatments were finished and she was under instruction to rest for the next month. Phoebe couldn’t use her mother’s illness as an excuse not to go. Her mother would never forgive her.

Matteo’s secretary had contacted Phoebe for her passport number and checked them both in online. As soon as they’d stepped out of the car the noise of the airport had overwhelmed her. The constant whoosh of planes taking off and landing. The chatter of people arriving or leaving. The thumping of cases. The toot of taxis.

It was like a roaring in her ears.

Matteo, of course, seemed oblivious. He steered her to the priority security line and then in the direction of the first-class lounge. First class. They were flying first class. Of course they were.

She’d never been in a first-class lounge before. It was luxurious and open, but bright and friendly with decadent décor and dramatic lighting. The seats were comfortable and the service impeccable.

But the lounge had a mezzanine level with views across the airport. If she was sitting down, the bottom half of the glass was smoked. But when she stood up...she could see all the planes sitting at their gates, with others taxiing to and from the runways.

Which was why her heart was currently in her mouth. She took another gulp of the champagne that was sitting next to her.

It was ridiculous. It was irrational. And she knew all that.

Over the course of her life she’d been on dozens of flights. But ever since Jason had died, just the glimpse of a plane made her uncomfortable.

Right now, her skin was itching, her breath catching somewhere in her throat and her heart racing inside her chest.

She stood up and made a grab for her bag. “Excuse me.”

With her head fixed firmly on the wall adorned with bright prints she made her way to the ladies’ room.

The bright lights and white tiles were a relief. Phoebe splashed some water on her face and took some deep breaths. They’d be due to board any minute now. She fumbled in her bag.

Phoebe stared at the pills in her hand. She’d never taken anything like this before.

Never had to. Never wanted to.

But, after verging on a panic attack at the thought of boarding a plane, she’d gone to see her doctor first thing in the morning. She’d been sympathetic, and talked Phoebe through all the irrational fears she had. She’d wanted to try other methods, other therapies, but Phoebe had told her the urgency of the trip and how much depended on it.

So, she’d given her some breathing exercises. A few methods of control, and, as a last resort, the chance to take something that could reduce her anxiety.

There was nothing shameful in taking a few tablets. Lots of people had problems flying. Once the flight had taken off, she could try and sleep. And once they were due to land again, she could take another.

It was a temporary measure. She looked at her own reflection in the mirror. Life with Jason had been easy, relaxed. He’d been her best friend.

But New Year’s Eve with Matteo had been entirely different. The fireworks hadn’t just been exploding outside the room. And that connection had been terrifying. Not least, because there seemed to be so much that Matteo was hiding.

She splashed more water. Three years. Three years since Jason was gone. He wouldn’t recognize the wide-eyed, terrified girl in the mirror right now. Her hand went to her throat as she held back a sob. And he would hate the fact that she was now petrified of the thing that he loved. The thing that had practically flowed through his veins.

She took a deep breath and shoved the tablets back in her bag. She tried a few of the breathing exercises her doctor had shown her. She could do this. She could do it. She could get on this plane and land in Rome. Yesterday had been key. She’d gone home to the final bill for her mother’s medical expenses. She needed this money. She needed to be paid. This job would lift a huge weight off the shoulders of both herself and her mother. The last thing she wanted was for her mother to be stressed about paying for her treatment. Stress could impede her full recovery and Phoebe would never let that happen.

She walked outside. Matteo was pacing outside the door impatiently. “Are you ready? It’s time to board.”

Phoebe gulped. The sooner this was over—the better.

* * *

What was wrong with her? She’d checked her seat belt a dozen times and had her eyes fixed firmly on the screen in front of her. Her endless fidgeting was driving him nuts. Phoebe had never struck him as a fidget.

“Miss? Can I get you a drink prior to departure?” The stewardess had a trolley filled with fine wines, champagnes and spirits. Phoebe glanced in the direction of the trolley for a few seconds, then shook her head. “No. No, thank you.”

Her hands twisted in her lap again as the stewardess moved away and a few minutes later the plane started taxiing. Phoebe leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, her hands gripping the seat rests so tightly her knuckles were white.

A strange feeling washed over Matteo. She’d objected quite strongly to the trip to Rome. “Phoebe, are you scared of flying? Haven’t you ever flown before?”

She didn’t even open her eyes, or release her grip. There was a tic at the side of her jaw as she spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ve flown lots of times. Just not recently.”

“And are you always like this when you fly?”

He was astonished. She generally seemed quite relaxed and happy. This was a whole other side of her. The plane started to pick up speed f

or take-off. As the nose lifted her hand stopped gripping the seat rest and grabbed his hand, squeezing so tightly he lost all feeling in his fingers.

Matteo leaned back in his seat and said nothing. It seemed Phoebe’s grip was stronger than expected. After a few minutes he put his other hand over hers. “Phoebe, you okay? Want to talk?”

Now he was feeling guilty. He’d given her an ultimatum. He’d forced her to come on this trip. He’d been so blindsided by getting the houses finished and on the market that he hadn’t really considered anything else.

Phoebe started doing some breathing exercises. In. Out. In. Out. He felt himself breathe along with her. Now he knew why she’d been so tetchy. He should have considered something like this.

“Take it easy, Phoebe. We’re up. Safe take-off. You can relax.”

She opened her eyes, and he was surprised to see they were wet with tears. “I won’t relax until we’re back on the ground.”

“You’re that scared of flying? Why didn’t you say?”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I couldn’t. It’s new. Well, not that new.”

He rubbed her hand again. “At some point I’m going to have to regain the feeling in my fingers. I might need them.” He gave her a gentle smile. “What happened that you feel like this?” He knew he was prying. He knew this was none of his business. But he hated seeing Phoebe like this.