The Temporary Mrs. Marchetti

‘Me, obstinate?’ Alice laughed. ‘You win the prize for that. A mule has nothing on you. Your heels are dug so deep in the ground you could drill for oil.’

He gave her a droll look. ‘I’ve booked a flight to Italy this Friday. We’ll stay the weekend in Stresa so you can get acquainted with your new property. Think of it as a trial honeymoon.’

Honeymoon?

Alice’s stomach dropped like an anchor. ‘I presume you mean for the sake of appearances?’

A ghost of a smile flirted with the edges of his mouth. ‘That depends.’

She disguised a lumpy swallow. ‘On what?’

‘On whether you have the self-discipline to say no to me.’

Alice gave him a look that would have withered poison ivy. ‘Not going to happen, Italian boy. You’re getting your needs met elsewhere, remember?’

‘Natalia is my personal assistant.’

Alice arched her brow. ‘And what, pray tell, does she personally assis

t you with? Your sex life?’

A smile cocked one side of his mouth, making his eyes crinkle attractively at the corners. Too attractively. So attractively she was having trouble keeping her eyes off it and remembering how sexy it had once felt against her own. ‘You’re jealous.’

Alice gave a honk of a laugh. ‘Yes, of course I am. I’m just so in love with you I can barely stand it. I’ve been waiting all these years for you to show up and take me back to chain me barefoot to the kitchen sink and make me pregnant.’

His smile disappeared to be replaced by a thin line of white. ‘I would’ve given you a good life, Alice. Better than the one you’ve got now.’

Alice helped herself to more wine, not caring it was going to her head. ‘I love my life. I have my own business. I have my own house. Money. Friends.’

‘But you’re not happy.’

She stabbed a finger in his direction. ‘You know what that is you’re doing right there? It’s projection. What you’re really saying is you’re not happy.’

‘I will be happy when this six months is over,’ he said, through tight lips. ‘My grandmother had no right to meddle in my affairs.’

Alice toyed with her glass, wondering why his grandmother had taken it upon herself to orchestrate things the way she had. Hadn’t Volante Marchetti realised how pointless it would be locking her and Cristiano together? They hated each other. They fought like cage fighters. What good would it serve? They would only end up worse enemies than before.

She realised then, she hadn’t yet expressed her condolences for his loss. She knew how much he adored his grandmother. It was another thing she had liked about him—how much he respected the elderly and saw them as gatekeepers of wisdom. ‘You must miss her terribly.’

He released a long sigh that sounded rough around the edges. ‘Yes.’

‘Was she ill for long or was it a sudden—?’

‘Pancreatic cancer,’ he said. ‘Four months from diagnosis to death.’

‘It must have been an awful shock.’

‘It was, but less so than my parents’ and brother’s death. She was eighty-five and frail. She was ready to go.’

Alice wondered if he was close to his extended family. He hadn’t spoken much about his family back in the day. She knew there were an uncle and an aunt and a few cousins scattered about. But having lost every member of his immediate family must surely be extremely painful, even now. She wasn’t that close to her mother, and, while she had some contact with her father since they reconnected a couple of years ago, her extended family were not the sort of people she associated with. But even so, Alice couldn’t imagine being all alone in the world.

The waiter came to take their order, and once he left, Cristiano switched the subject as if he didn’t want to linger on the subject of his grandmother’s passing. ‘There are some legal things to see to. I presume you won’t object to a prenuptial agreement?’

‘No, why should I?’ Alice shot him a don’t-call-me-a-gold-digger glare. ‘I want to protect my own assets.’

‘Fine. I’ll have the papers drawn up and make an appointment for tomorrow.’

He was moving things along so quickly Alice wondered if he was worried she would back out at the last minute and was taking measures so she couldn’t. ‘How are you going to handle the press on this?’ she asked. ‘I mean, who is going to buy this is a genuine love match?’