Page 26 of My Fake Italian Marriage

“Congratulations,” Cleo said, still smiling. Luca admired her grace in the face of the obvious snub.

The blonde giggled, presenting her hand for them to see the enormous square diamond on her ring finger. The imperious gesture made it easy for Luca to identify her type: flighty, demanding, confident her every whim would be catered to. The kind of high-maintenance woman who’d been born into privilege and never known hardship. As different from Cleo as night from day.

Evan held out his hand to Luca. “Hi, I’m Evan Courtenay. And you are?” His tone held a note of challenge.

Luca smile amiably. “Luca Fioravanti.”

Evan’s handshake held a challenge, too, as if he wanted to establish his territory. Another unfamiliar, angry knot tightened in Luca’s stomach. This man was engaged to another woman, but still he wanted Cleo for himself.Vuole la botte piena e la moglie ubriaca, as the saying went. He was a man who liked to keep his wine cask full and his wife drunk.

Fioravanti men, for all their faults, were not possessive, and they never viewed women as objects or prizes, as this man clearly did.

“Signor e Signora Fioravanti.” Graziano pushed two key cards across the reception counter. “We have upgraded you to the honeymoon suite. We hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

Having overheard their exchange, Graziano had switched to English.

Cleo blushed and opened her mouth to protest his assumption, but paused as she caught sight of Evan’s expression, which shifted from stunned to resentful to covetous in the space of a heartbeat before he composed his features.

“You’remarried?” Evan asked.

It was the covetous look that decided Luca. Instead of correcting Graziano, or Evan, he slid his arm around Cleo’s waist and pulled her against him, covering her hand to hide that she wasn’t wearing a ring. “Sì. Just the other day. It was such a whirlwind romance, wasn’t it,cara mia? Took us both completely by surprise.”

“You can say that again,” she muttered. “It was … interesting … to see you again, Evan. I hope you’re both very happy together. Please excuse us. We have plans—”

“We do indeed.” Luca grinned and bent to kiss Cleo’s neck. He finally identified the scent she wore; it was the smell of fresh summer peaches. “We have a honeymoon suite to explore.”

He turned to Graziano. “You will arrange a porter to bring our bags?”

The man nodded, waving for a porter. “And I will show you to the suite myself.”

Luca, taking the key cards in one hand and Cleo’s hand in his other, sent Evan his cheekiest grin and followed Graziano, half-pulling Cleo along with him.

“Why did you do that?” she hissed when they were out of Evan’s earshot, pulling her hand out of his. “I was perfectly capable of handling him on my own.”

“I know you were, but you have to admit the look on his face was worth one small white lie.” Luca had never resorted to violence in his life, but for half a moment, when Evan had presented his fiancée as if she was a new toy, he’d been tempted to wipe the smug smile off the other man’s face. Making him jealous had been even more satisfying.

Cleo tried to glare at him, but then she laughed. “I’ve never seen him speechless before.” She sighed. “I hope this doesn’t end badly.”

“How can it end badly? What happens at Lake Como stays at Lake Como…”

She shook her head, but she was smiling again.

The honeymoon suite turned out to be a private villa set apart from the main hotel, right on the edge of the lake. This certainly wasn’t the suite he’d booked. Graziano unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing for them to enter. Cleo stepped inside, and this time her gasp was less shock and more appreciation.

The stylish rooms were generously proportioned, with dark hardwood floors, subdued modern decor in browns and creams, and floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the lake and distant mountains. Coloured Murano glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling, reflecting rainbows onto the vintage wallpaper, and sliding glass doors opened onto a sheltered terrace. There was an open-plan kitchen, dining room and living room, and a bedroom separated from the living area by a wide arch. Even the bathroom was screened by nothing more than a wall of smoky glass. The suite had clearly not been designed to give the occupants much privacy from one another.

“There’s only one bed,” Cleo noted, eyes wide as she looked around.

Though this bed might be the biggest Luca had ever seen, he didn’t think Cleo would be willing to share it with him. What had she said about things ending badly?

“Of course,” Graziano answered with a wink at Luca. “And complete privacy. This suite has its own private garden, pool, and a hot tub on the sundeck.”

Luca cleared his throat, not looking at Cleo. “Thank you. We appreciate the upgrade, but this is too much.”

The hotel manager gave a small bow. “Had I known you were so recently married, we would also have arranged champagne.”

“It’s really not necessary—”

Graziano cut him off with a wave of his hand. “It is the least we can do for the Fioravantis. We appreciate your father’s loyal business, and hope your honeymoon will be a once in a lifetime experience.”

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