The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

But he took a deep breath and rested his forehead against hers, his hand still tangled in her hair. Phoebe’s breathing was labored and heavy, just like his. But she didn’t push for anything else. She seemed happy to take a moment too. Her chest was rising and falling in his eye line as they stayed for a few minutes with their heads together.

Everything felt too new. Too raw. Did he even know what he was doing here?

“Happy New Year,” he said softly. “At least I’m guessing that’s why we can still hear fireworks.”

“There are fireworks outside? I thought they were inside.” Her sparkling dark eyes met his gaze and she smiled. “Wow,” she said huskily.

He let out a laugh. “Wow,” he repeated.

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.

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.