The Temporary Mrs. Marchetti

So what’s changed?

Cristiano winced at the nudge of his conscience. He had cornered her again. Forced her to bend to his will. He had a goal to achieve. He was focussing on the big picture instead of examining the finer detail.

But he had to get those shares back before his cousin blew the lot. And he had to do whatever it took to keep the villa otherwise it would go to some stranger. He didn’t have a choice any more than Alice did.

It was marry her or lose a third of his family’s company and the villa he knew as home.

As if he were going to allow that to happen.

CHAPTER SIX

AFTER DINNER THAT night, Alice didn’t see Cristiano again until Friday when he picked her up to take her to the airport for their flight to Italy. Being stressed from having to organise another beauty therapist to cover her for the weekend when her usual girl had to pull out at the last minute, as well as see her own clients and get away on time, hadn’t done her mood any favours. She hadn’t had time to refresh her make-up or send a brush through her hair. And God only knew what she’d thrown in her overnight bag this morning when she’d missed her alarm and had to pack in a frantic hurry. How dared Cristiano look so damn fresh and clean and smell so divine? Didn’t he have to work and sweat like normal people?

Once they were seated on the plane in business class—of course—Alice leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. ‘You would not believe the day I’ve had.’

Cristiano’s hand came to rest on top of hers where it was lying on the armrest. ‘Want to tell me about it?’

Alice looked at his hand on top of hers. His skin was so tanned and the sprinkle of dark hair so masculine compared to the smooth, pale skin of hers. His fingers curled around her hand, reminding her of the way his strong powerful body gathered her close in the past. His thumb began an idle stroking across the back of her hand, a mesmerising rhythm that stirred her blood. She disguised a little shiver...or at least hoped she did.

‘First, I didn’t hear my alarm. My phone was on silent last night because I—Well, anyway. Then I had a staffing issue, which is the bane of my life as a small business owner. Suze, the girl I’d organised to come in to do my Saturday clients, caught a stomach virus. To her credit, she was prep

ared to work but I can’t expose my clients to illness. It wouldn’t be fair to them if they caught it.’

Alice stopped to draw breath to find him looking at her with an unwavering gaze.

‘Am I boring you?’

His lips curved upwards in a slow smile. ‘Not a bit. Go on.’

Alice had trouble remembering what she’d been talking about. All she could think of was how delicious his mouth looked when he smiled. Not a mocking smile, but a smile that said: You’re fascinating to me. His eyes too made her brain scramble. Intensely dark, fringed with thick black eyelashes her clients would have paid a fortune to graft on.

‘Erm...so then I worked through my clients and two were late, which is a nightmare because it has a knock-on effect that makes me late for my next client and so on and so on. And then, my last client wanted to talk once I’d done her waxing. Her husband is unwell—he just got diagnosed with cancer. I could hardly rush her out the door, now could I?’

‘Of course not.’

She let out a long exhausted-sounding breath. ‘Beauty therapists are like hairdressers. No wonder we’re called therapists. Half the time I’m more of a psychologist than I am anything else.’

His hand picked up hers and turned it over, his thumb stroking the inside of her palm in a slow circular pattern that made every rigid muscle in her back soften like honey in a heatwave. ‘You enjoy your work, though, don’t you?’

Alice didn’t even have to think about her answer. ‘I love it. I love being able to make women—and it’s mostly women, but I have male clients too—feel good about themselves. I like the skin-care element too. I’ve been able to help numerous clients with troubled skin. Nothing lifts self-esteem more than feeling good about how you look.’

‘So how did the wedding arm of your business come about?’

Alice couldn’t remember talking to anyone this much about her work other than her employees and a couple of girlfriends. Her mother never showed much interest—she was always too worked up about her own issues and only required Alice to listen, not talk.

‘Sort of by accident or serendipity. I did the make-up for a bride about five years ago, and then her bridesmaid chose me, and then she told her friends, and everything built up from there. Word of mouth still rules in spite of the digital age.’

Cristiano’s thumb was on her pulse now, that same slow stroking motion on the underside of her wrist making her sink even further into the plush leather seat. ‘So tell me about your expansion plans.’

‘Well...my salon in Chelsea is getting too small when I do weddings as well as normal clients,’ Alice said. ‘My regular clients aren’t too happy if I book the salon out too many Saturdays in a row for weddings. I have a dream to set up a luxury wedding spa where brides and the wedding party can be the focus of attention. There will be an area for official photos or glamour shoots too. Of course I’ll have to move between both salons at first, but ultimately I’d like to concentrate on the wedding side of things.’

‘Because you have a thing about weddings?’

Alice gave him a beady look. ‘The money. Weddings bring in the money, especially high-profile ones.’

His thumb stroked the fleshy pad of hers, making her legs feel as if someone had removed all the bones. ‘You don’t find it slightly...ironic?’

‘Ironic I want to make money?’