The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

Matteo shrugged and held out his hands. “Because we never use it. You’re right. It is a great property, but when anyone from the family is in Italy we are generally down at the villa in Tuscany where the vineyards are. In the last year I think someone from the family had used this villa for less than two weeks. We only stay here for the odd day on business. It doesn’t make sense to keep the house any longer.”

Phoebe gave a nod. “It just seems such a shame.”

Matteo turned back to her. “So, what do you think? Can you can dress this place to sell?”

Phoebe nodded. “Without a doubt. And you’re right. It won’t take much.” She gave a little smile. “Because this has been a family home, it really just needs a little...” she tried to find the right word “...streamlining.”

Matteo raised his eyebrows. “You mean decluttering?”

She smiled. “I might. The selling point for this house is actually the frescos. Everything else just needs tailing back to let them shine. And I need to help with the flow of the house. That can be done easily by having one color palette throughout the house. I think cream would work best with a few little splashes of red. That will complement the tiled floor and the frescos.”

Matteo nodded. “I think that could work.” He slipped his jacket off. “Which room would you like?”

“Excuse me?”

“Which room? You can pick any one you like.”

“We’re staying here?”

He looked surprised. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d told you that. I imagine you want to get some sleep. Even for a few hours? Then perhaps I can take you to one of the warehouses in Rome. I had my PA search out places similar to the one in New York. I thought it would save some time. Then, we can have a late dinner.” He gave a soft smile. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find somewhere in Rome no matter what time it is. I know you think New York is the city that never sleeps, but give Rome a chance, I think you’ll like it.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to say. “You seem to have everything planned.”

He nodded. “I feel at home here. So, pick a room. Which one did you like best?”

She tilted her head. “Isn’t one of these rooms yours?”

He waved his hand. “That doesn’t matter. I’m happy to sleep in any of the rooms.”

She gave a smile and a small nod. “In that case, I’ll take the room at the back that looks out over the garden.”

“The one that can give you a glimpse of the Coliseum?” He smiled knowingly.

“And the one with the huge canopy over the bed and the ceiling fan.”

He laughed. “It’s all yours.”

She glanced at her watch. “What time should we get up?”

There was a pause as Matteo met her gaze with an amused expression. Blood rushed to her face. What time should we get up? She hadn’t meant it like that, but sheer exhaustion was obviously taking its toll.

She shook her head as Matteo put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get someone to wake you around 1:00 p.m. If we sleep too late,” he emphasized the word with a glint in his eye, “it will knock off our body clocks.”

“I guess you’re right.” She looked around for her bag, but Matteo shook his head. “Don’t worry. Carlo, the driver, has taken it up to your room.” He paused for a second. “And, Phoebe?”

“Yes?”

He bent down to her ear. His voice was quiet. “Today I think you were exceptionally brave. You should be proud of yourself.” He brushed a kiss to the side of her cheek, “Sleep well,” he said before disappearing down the corridor.

Phoebe stood in the perfect silence. Outside she could hear the rustle of trees and the chirping of birds. The citrus smell of lemon and orange was drifting through the house.

Maybe it was fatigue, or maybe it was the setting, but Matteo seemed different here. More relaxed. More...accessible.

She put her hands up to her face. The kiss was nothing. A gesture of sympathy. Or maybe of friendship.

She walked up the stairs slowly and crossed into the airy bedroom. The shutters were wide open, allowing her a tiny glimpse of the Coliseum. She smiled. Dressing this house would be a joy and a pleasure.

And maybe something else...

* * *

He’d wanted to kiss her. First, on the plane when she’d been so upset. But that had hardly seemed appropriate when she’d mentioned the loss of her fiancé. Then second, when her eyes had lit up with pure pleasure at the house.

Her excitement was palpable. And it felt infectious. No matter how worried he was, no matter how many other things he had on his mind, being around Phoebe just seemed to make the world feel a little more right.

She’d been in the villa five minutes before she’d been able to visualize what she could do to make some improvements. And she’d been right. He’d known that instantly.

A few hours later he was showered, changed and only slightly jet-lagged. Phoebe appeared a little more tired. Dressed in a bright pink dress with a light cardigan, her bag on her arm and a notepad in her hand, she seemed ready to go.

“Would you like to have some brunch?” he asked.

She shook her head and put her hand on her stomach. “I’m feeling a little queasy to be honest. Give my body time to realize what zone it’s in.” She pulled a bottle of water from her bag. “I’ll just stick to this for now.” Then she glanced around. “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re much more used to traveling than I am. Do you want to have brunch?”

Her openness was so refreshing and his heart gave a little twist. Brave. That was what else Phoebe was. But it wasn’t her most obvious trait until you got to know her. Was that what had happened to him? He’d got to know her?

Phoebe had shared probably the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She’d also showed him that fears could be conquered if you really faced up to them.

He could learn a lot from Ms. Gates. He still hadn’t had that conversation with Brianna. Every day, time grew shorter. His sister had experienced enough during this pregnancy; at the end she was hoping and praying for a healthy baby—and so was he. But he was also hoping for a happy, healthy sister.

Brianna had no idea what had happened to their mother. She couldn’t possibly understand that the happy, well-balanced woman had acted strangely after the delivery of her third child. Matteo hadn’t understood it himself. He just remembered her shouting and acting irrationally. But those memories were fuzzy. Because his father had tried to shield him from the worst of it.

As an adult he understood a lot more. Postpartum psychosis had been a little-known diagnosis thirty years ago. His mother had no history of mental health problems. So, her disintegrating mental capacity had bewildered those around her. The sudden paranoia, delusions, severe confusion and manic behavior had been confusing for her friends and family. The ultimate tragic outcome, overdosing on medication and leaving a suicide note, telling her husband how she couldn’t bear the thoughts she was having—thoughts of harming her new baby—was quietly hushed up. It was years before Matteo finally put the fragments of his memories together in his brain, and when he had, his father had begged him not to tell anyone else.

But he should tell someone else. He should tell Brianna. Because Brianna was more at risk. Postpartum psychosis could run in families. And from the day and hour his sister had told him she was pregnant, he’d thought about nothing else.

“Matteo?” Phoebe was standing directly underneath him, her hand touching his wrist and her light floral scent floating up around him. Her dark eyes were fixed on his. “Matteo, are you okay?”

He nodded and gave himself a shake. Focus. That was what he needed to do. “Sure. Everything’s fine. Are you ready to see Italian-style warehouses?” He crooked his elbow toward her and she gave a smile as she slid her hand into place.

“Lead the way. I can’t wait.”

* * *

It seemed that Italian warehouses were very like the ones in New York. A few hours of serious shopping seemed to get her most of the things she would need to dress the gorgeous home. By the time they’d finished, the sun was a little lower in the sky and the air a little closer. Matteo made arrangements to get all the goods shipped directly to the villa.

Rome was a bustling, vibrant city. She was here to do a job, but part of her wanted to steal away on one of the open-topped buses to see the sights of the city. What chance would she ever have to come back here?

Phoebe licked her lips and looked around. She’d got on a plane. She’d actually got on a plane. And in a few days, she’d have to do it all again. Part of that made her stomach flip-flop. And part of that made her proud. Jason would have been proud of her. Her mother was proud of her. And, she was proud of herself. Even if she was still a little terrified.

It seemed that in the last few weeks she’d made more progress than she had in the last three years. Her first kiss. Her first connection. Her first plane ride. And the one constant thing was Matteo Bianchi.

He turned toward her. “I know you’re probably tired, but it’s best if we try and stay up late, to try and get into the time zone. How about some dinner and some sightseeing?”

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. “You’re actually going to let me see a little of Rome?”

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Only the most important parts.”

A little tremble snuck down her spine. “Am I dressed appropriately?”