Every part of her felt touched by him, blessed. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but then, she’d been tired even before they’d arrived at his villa, with all the passion they’d shared while crossing the Atlantic in his private jet, and before that in his Hamptons house.
Although, she knew Nico would say, if he were here, that it was their private jet. Their Hamptons beach house. Their Amalfi Coast villa.
But the thing she loved most about all of those places was that he was in them.
So where was Nico? Getting out of bed, she looked around her. Unlike the rest of the villa, which had been chock full of antiques, this gorgeous master bedroom was as sparse with fur
niture as Nico’s other homes. Pulling on a silk robe that she’d bought in New York as part of the wedding trousseau he’d insisted on buying her, she peeked into the en suite bathroom.
It was gleaming, modern and new. And empty.
She glanced at the small clock over the bedroom’s sleek marble fireplace, above the vase of long-stemmed pink and red roses. It was six o’clock. Almost dinner time, at least by American standards. And she was hungry. Being pregnant really gave her an appetite.
Or maybe she’d worked it up doing something else. Again and again. She blushed.
Taking a shower in the large walk-in shower, Honora relished the warmth against her skin as she scrubbed her hair. So much easier to do here than in that postage-stamp-sized shower on the private jet. Stepping out, she wrapped herself in a thick white cotton towel. As she wiped the steam off the mirror, she looked at herself in amazement as she brushed her teeth.
How had she stepped into this life? She didn’t understand how she could be so lucky. What had she ever done to deserve it?
You didn’t have to work for it. You’re just marrying it.
Her smile fell a little as she remembered Emmie’s bitter words, words her friend had apologized for and tried to take back. But it had never been about money for Honora. She would have been mad about Nico, rich or poor! She loved him just for himself!
She loved him. But did he love her?
Everything I have...everything I am...is yours.
Honora shivered, remembering how she’d felt when he’d kissed her earlier and taken her on that bed.
That meant love, didn’t it?
Anyway, she didn’t need him to say the words. He cared for her; he was committed to her. That was enough. Honora’s heart could love enough for both of them. It could.
Getting dressed in a pretty, new cotton sundress, she pulled her hair back into a long ponytail and went downstairs.
After some aimless wandering along the villa’s hallways, she finally found Nico in a home office with his assistant and several other men in suits, all of them speaking in tense, rapid Italian as they looked over papers spread across a large table. They looked up as she entered. Nico smiled.
“Honora. Did you enjoy your rest?”
Could his men guess why she’d so desperately needed one? She blushed. “Yes.”
“I’m just getting some details ironed out for that real estate acquisition. You were asking to taste real Italian pasta, yes?”
“Yes?”
“As soon as I’m done here, I’ll take you out to dinner in Trevello, if you’d like.”
“Sounds lovely.”
Nico’s warm gaze traced slowly from her eyes to her lips, down her body to her sandals, leaving a trail of heat wherever they lingered. “I’m sorry I have business with my lawyers. I’ll be done soon.”
“I’ll go wander the garden,” she said, not wanting to be a bother.
The formal garden was even more lovely on closer viewing. Standing alone in the middle of the villa’s perfect garden, with its spectacular view of the sea, she wished her grandfather could see these flowers. But he was busy with Phyllis, working in the flower shop, redecorating the Queens apartment. They’d decided to turn Honora’s old bedroom into a home gym. “I gotta stay healthy to keep up with my wife,” her grandfather had told her happily.
Honora looked out at the bright sun, lowering toward the sea. She was glad he was happy. She was, too. She was married and expecting a child.
So why did she suddenly feel so uncertain and alone?