The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

“For your mom?” All of a sudden his accent seemed so much thicker.

She nodded. Her insides were twisting. Part of her could tell he might have hoped she’d got on the plane for him. Not for the job. Or for the prestige of working on the house. Or for the chance to visit Rome.

She lifted her hand and paused it for the briefest of seconds before running it through his hair. “I get why you did this, Matteo. But things have changed. You’re not a little boy anymore. The world has changed. Diagnosis and mental health services are so much better now. Isn’t the way to protect your sister to tell her the truth?”

He held her gaze for the longest of times, as if he was contemplating her words. “It’s just never been the right time. Vittore was getting married—then he wasn’t. My father got sick. Then we had the funeral. Then there was all the family business to sort out. The houses were the last thing, but then Brianna announced she was pregnant and started having problems—what kind of brother would I be to sit her down and tell her something devastating now?” His hand reached up and closed over hers. He tilted his head to the side and gave her a sorrowful expression. “Why didn’t you tell me your mother was sick? Is she okay now? Is she feeling better?”

Phoebe gave a nod. “She’s well on the road to recovery with a big support system. I would never have left her if I wasn’t sure she was okay.” His hand reached up and stroked her cheek.

“But you did,” he whispered.

“I did,” she replied.

She felt it. The flicker low, deep down in her belly. The tiny pulses emanating out throughout her body. His lips touching hers confirmed everything she needed to know.

Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes filled with tears. Finally, she could acknowledge how she was feeling.

She was ready. She was ready to let go and move on. And she’d found the person she wanted to move on with.

She didn’t care that he was her boss. She didn’t care they had a million other things to talk about. He needed her just as much as she needed him. There was a reason they’d met.

Matteo Bianchi was her reason to move on. Her reason to let her heart be exposed to the world again.

As that thought crowded her brain she pulled her lips back from his to catch her breath.

She let out a gentle laugh as the scent of the spicy ravioli drifted around them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’ve gone to such a fabulous effort, and it might smell wonderful, but all of a sudden I’m not so sure I want dinner.”

His dark green eyes met hers. This time they were different. There wasn’t so much sorrow. This time there was a glimmer of something else. His fingers brushed over her cheek. “I ordered my favorite, but I’m happy to leave it behind.”

His hands went to her waist as he eased her from his lap, stood up, then pulled her against him. “How about we go someplace else?” He gave her a sexy smile. “They say the world is your oyster. But tonight—Rome is your oyster. Where would you like to go?”

She slid her arms up around his neck. She was delighting in feeling his body against hers. The angled planes, wide chest and taut muscles. It was easy. It was so easy. And she’d never wanted it more. She put her lips to his ear. “How about we just go home?”

Chapter Seven

HE WOKE UP to caramel-colored limbs tangled around his own, and tight springy curls just under his nose. Their breathing was synched. Phoebe’s chest rose and fell with his own. The remnants of last night’s passion was evident throughout the room. Her shoes were near the doorway. Her pink dress on the wooden floor, close to his pale blue shirt. His trousers were crumpled near the bottom of the bed. As for their underwear? He had no idea what had happened to it.

For the first time in thirty-five years Matteo finally felt a true connection to someone outside his family. He’d had no idea about Phoebe’s mom. A tiny selfish part of him had been initially disappointed that she hadn’t braved the plane journey for him—but that was ridiculous. Phoebe Gates was the bravest woman he’d ever met. She’d lost her fiancé, helped her mother fight cancer, then faced her biggest fear to complete a job. And the job wouldn’t be completed for over a week. Somehow he knew that in that space of time Phoebe could work her magic and sprinkle her fairy dust on this villa. Right now, he was contemplating how many excuses he could make for work that would allow him to stay here this week in Rome with Phoebe.

He hadn’t had a vacation in...how long? Plus, he could fly up and down to some of the vineyards in Tuscany in one day. He could have breakfast with Phoebe in Rome, leave her to do her work while he completed his, then meet her for dinner at night back in Rome. And then...