The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

He’d never been a bad father. He’d never ignored his children. He’d just been a little...vacant.

Seeing this picture of him so full of life and joy almost wrenched the heart from Matteo’s chest. Phoebe was oblivious. She had a dreamy smile on her face as she flicked the pages. The next showed his mother and father clasping hands at the altar and exchanging vows. The love and devotion was painted on their faces for all the world to see.

Phoebe let out a little wistful sigh. “How gorgeous,” she whispered.

The twisting sensation in his chest stopped. He looked at the picture again with new eyes. It was gorgeous. It was a moment in time—a moment to remember. He lifted his fingers to the page. “I think I’d quite like to copy that photograph,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

“You’ve lost them both now, haven’t you?”

The emotions were bubbling up inside him. He’d been feeling anger—despair. Everything about this place overwhelmed him with sadness. But just that single comment. And just the chance to sit down and look through these photos was helping him to take stock.

His parents on their wedding day. So much happiness. So much hope. They’d lived a good life together. His father’s business had flourished. His mother had always been adventurous. She’d relished the move to the United States. She’d loved New York and been happy to plan to bring her children up here.

She’d been happy. She’d adored her husband, and looked forward to a lifetime together. Matteo’s stomach gave a little twist. But fate and misfortune had cut that short. He lowered his head. If he’d raised the alarm...if he’d realized she wasn’t sleeping...

Phoebe turned toward him, her rose scent drifting up around him. Her face was only inches away from his. Their bodies were so close. His arm was resting on the floor, but placed between her arm and her body. Just by looking at the album they’d practically found themselves intertwined. Was this fate? Or was this fortune?

It was almost as if all his instincts about Phoebe fell into place at once. She lifted her head, her nose brushing against his chin, and reached up and touched his cheek.

It was the smallest of movements, with a whole lot of heart.

“I think it would be beautiful as a black and white canvas,” she whispered. “Something to look at, and remember.” She paused for a second then added, “We all should remember the things that are precious to us.”

He looked up and met her gaze. In the flickering firelight it was possible he’d never seen a woman look quite so beautiful. Phoebe might be dressed in the most casual of clothes, her hair might show remnants of dust, but her light brown skin glowed, and her dark eyes pulled him in.

There was something there. Something he’d never experienced before. A connection. A feeling. A sincerity.

The timing might be wrong. The circumstances might be less than ideal. But he couldn’t help his instincts. As the world burst into life outside and fireworks filled the air to celebrate the New Year, Matteo bent his head and met her soft lips.

There was no shock. No disdain. Phoebe’s lips were as sweet and inviting as he could have hoped for. The kiss was gentle—sweet. She returned it, her lips parting ever so slightly, encouraging him.

His hand reached up and tangled in her curls, pulling her head closer to his. She let out a little sigh and it was almost his undoing. It would be so easy to continue. So easy to let this progress. They were already on the floor. The bedclothes were scattered around them. He could just pull her on top of him, or slip his hand under the pink top. He could see her gentle curves, and the temptation to touch them was overwhelming.

But, for the first time in his life, Matteo didn’t let his natural instincts set the pace. Instead, he swallowed, and reluctantly let his lips part from hers. He could still taste her, and he’d never felt so hungry for more. Every part of his body urged him to continue.

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.