Planet Phoebe. No worrying about family. No worrying about business. No selling houses. Just spending the rest of his time with a warm, beautiful, good-spirited woman.
Her stomach growled again. She flipped him onto his back and swung her leg over his body, leaning above him. “Enough, Mr. Bianchi. I think it’s time you introduced me to what Italians have for breakfast.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Well...when you put it like that...”
She lifted her finger to wag it at him but he spun her onto her back so quickly the breath left her body.
He winked at her. “Let me show you.”
* * *
The day couldn’t be better. Last night had been beautiful, surprising, and then emotional, tense and unbelievably hot.
Every time she closed her eyes she could still feel Matteo’s breath on her skin, feel his lips trailing across hers and feel his beating heart next to hers.
The connection was so strong. It was as if now she’d finally decided she was ready to move on, her body and brain had decided to catch up on three years and move at breakneck speed. And although she had the odd thought of caution, Matteo seemed to be matching her every step of the way.
Today had been magical. Matteo had shown her the sights in Rome. He’d taken her to the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican and St Peter’s Basilica. Instead of going by chauffeur-driven car, they’d joined the tourists and Phoebe had loved it.
She’d got to see the excitement and wonder on everyone else’s faces—just like her own—all the while having Matteo’s rich Italian voice in her ear giving her insight and information like her own personal tour guide.
As they lunched at a little restaurant near the Vatican Matteo’s phone rang. He finished the call quickly with a huge smile on his face.
She leaned across the table toward him. “What? What is it?”
He shrugged and held up his hands. “It seems that word has got out. The villa isn’t even on the market, and yet, my solicitor has just had a very substantial offer on the property subject to a viewing next week.”
“Really?” Phoebe could hardly believe it.
“Do you think you can have the house ready for next week?”
She nodded her head. “Of course I can. No problem at all.” She raised her glass of wine toward him. “It just goes to show you, someone has probably had their eye on your family villa for years, and has just been waiting for word that you were ready to sell.”
Matteo nodded. “It seems likely, and, to be honest, I’m glad. I want the house to be lived in, to be enjoyed the way it should be. I’ve always hated the fact that the villa has virtually been unused for the last ten years. It should be brought back to life.” He lifted his wine glass to Phoebe. “It seems you might just be my good luck charm.”
Her heart gave a little flutter. She clinked her glass against his. “Maybe I am. I guess we just need to find out.”
The smile he gave her in return sent little shivers of expectation down her spine and they spent the rest of the afternoon drinking wine and coffee, then finishing with the most wonderful tiramisu. Matteo held her hand across the table the whole time, listening to her ideas for the villa with interest. But when he started talking about plans for them going home her expression must have changed.
“Phoebe, are you okay?”
She nodded nervously. One mention of going home made her mouth go dry. She’d made it on the plane out here. Of course she knew she’d have to make the same journey as before. But last time around, there wasn’t so much time to think about it. Matteo had booked the flights, she’d visited her doctor and felt as if there was a push to come here. The whole chance of not being paid had huge implications for her; it was the biggest motivator for getting on that plane.
But for the journey home?
Matteo now knew about her mother. He wouldn’t withhold payment. Yes, she would complete the job in Rome, but right now the thought of getting on another plane was making her want to be sick.
She gave Matteo a weak smile. “I’m just trying not to think about the flight home. I know it’s more than a few days away. But I guess one flight isn’t enough to cure my fear. I’m worried I’ll be like this forever. Spending my whole life wanting to be sick all over my shoes and having palpitations at the mere thought of a flight.”
Matteo put his other hand over the top of hers and squeezed. “But I’ll be with you. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Don’t worry. And this time, you’ll have my full attention. You don’t need to worry.” He gave her a wicked smile. “I have lots of ways to distract you—if you’ll let me. Or, I can just hold your hand. And you can squeeze mine until there’s no blood flow and it’s a strange shade of purple. Whatever you like.”