Page 18 of Bound by a One-Night Vow

‘I have and I believe it’s the best way forward. The only way forward.’ His tone had an edge of finality that precluded further discussion on the topic.

Izzy picked up her abandoned champagne glass and took a sip. ‘If I’d told you earlier about my father would you still have married me?’

Andrea took his glass as if he too needed something to do with his hands. He swirled the contents for a moment, watching as the bubbles danced in a little whirlpool. ‘I considered offering three months ago but decided it was better to wait.’

‘Until I was desperate.’ Izzy didn’t ask it as a question, more as a wry statement of fact.

He gave a brief smile. ‘I can’t imagine what is wrong with all the young men in London. You should have been snatched up years ago.’

Izzy made a grimace. ‘Don’t you read the gossip pages? I’m not exactly ideal wife material. I’m the girl men have flings with before they settle down with someone far more suitable.’

Something flickered over his face. ‘Women are entitled to have just as many sexual encounters as men if that’s what they want to do.’

Izzy frowned. ‘So you’re not judging me for my past? Is that what you’re saying?’

His gaze became direct, like a detective examining important evidence. ‘How much of your past is fact and how much is fiction?’

She gave an offhand shrug to cover how exposed she suddenly felt. Why had she got herself into this conversation? She wasn’t interested in getting his good opinion... Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true. There was a part of her that did want his approval. She wanted it far more than she should. ‘Make a guess.’

‘If what they write about me is any indication, I would say not much is true.’ He kept his gaze trained on hers. ‘Am I correct?’

Izzy toyed with her champagne glass. ‘In the early days I would deliberately court negative attention from the press. I wanted to embarrass my father and I didn’t care how I achieved it. Pictures of me stumbling out of nightclubs in the early hours of the morning were my modus operandi. It was so easy. All I had to do was look a little wasted and they would take the money shot. I soon got a reputation for wild partying but the truth was much more boring.’

His expression was shadowed with a combination of confusion and concern. ‘Were you drunk at your father’s Christmas party when you were eighteen or just pretending?’

Izzy gave a regretful sigh. ‘Not drunk, tipsy—just as I was every year. It was the only way I could get through my father’s Devoted Dad act. Silly, now that I think about it. The only person I ended up hurting was myself.’

Andrea touched her on the arm. ‘Reputations can be repaired in time. But it’s important you feel good about yourself. What other people think isn’t something you can control.’

Did she feel good about herself? Izzy wasn’t sure she could answer that with any certainty. A childhood of being told she wasn’t good enough wasn’t an easy thing to dismiss. She felt those negatives messages in the fabric of her soul. They were like bruises that would throb whenever self-doubt bumped against them. She forced a smile. ‘I think I’ll have to work on that.’

He lifted her chin with his finger, his eyes holding hers for a long, intense moment. His gaze flicked to her mouth and his throat tightened over a swallow. His hand fell away from her face and he stepped back. ‘You have the bed. I’ll take the sofa.’

Izzy could still feel the tingle from his touch and the ache of disappointment that he hadn’t kissed her. The air seemed charged with energy—a sexual energy that made her skin prickle and tighten. ‘Andrea?’ Her voice came out soft and husky.

The muscles of his face tensed as if he was garnering his resolve. ‘We need to be sensible about this, Isabella.’ The stern drill sergeant note was back in his voice as if he were speaking to an insubordinate refusing an exercise.

‘What is sensible about a six-foot-four man trying to sleep on a sofa?’ Izzy said. ‘We can share the bed without touching, surely? It’s certainly big enough.’

‘Believe me. It’s not big enough.’ His tone was dry.

Izzy frowned. ‘But what about the housekeeping staff? Didn’t you say you wanted everyone to think our marriage was genuine?’

He let out a slowly rationed breath. ‘We will fly to Positano tomorrow. There’s more privacy at my villa as I keep staff down to a minimum. My housekeeper is the soul of discretion. You can have your own room and she won’t say a word.’

‘But what about my job? And my studies? I have to call my boss and—’

‘I’ve already seen to it,’ Andrea said. ‘He wishes you well. And you can study anywhere these days as long as you’ve got access to Wi-Fi.’

‘You’ve thought of everything.’ Izzy hadn’t meant to sound so cynical but everything was spinning out of her control. Had been from the moment she’d accepted his offer of marriage. She wasn’t used to it. But another part of her—a secret part—was enjoying having someone take care of her.

Andrea turned away and poured himself a small measure of the champagne they’d had earlier. She suspected it had more to do with him needing to do something with his hands than any desire for more alcohol. She had never seen him drink to excess. It was another thing she had, albeit reluctantly, admired about him. ‘Go to bed, Isabella.’

‘Why do you always call me by my full name instead of Izzy?’

He took a sip of his drink and then lowered the glass to look at her, his thumb moving on the side of the glass in a circular motion. ‘It’s a beautiful name. Elegant and regal. Sophisticated.’

Izzy gave a little snort. ‘I’m hardly what anyone would describe as sophisticated.’

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