Page 47 of My Fake Italian Marriage

“So, not just to get away from your parents?” Cleo teased.

“That is a happy side benefit.”

He waved to an older woman with hints of auburn in her long dark hair, who wheeled a shopping basket up the street. “Ciao, Emanuela.Come stai?”

The woman waved back, her expression openly curious, and he blew her a kiss. Cleo rolled her eyes. He really was the most incorrigible flirt.

“That is Emanuela, my teammate Federico’s mother. She is an artist who runs the guest house at the end of the street.” He set down his empty espresso cup. “I need to spend a few hours in my office, catching up on my own work. If you are happy to wait for me, I’ll drive you to the vineyard later.”

She nodded.

“But before we go, there’s something I need to give you.”

Curious, she followed him into the living room. He seated her on the ivory-coloured sofa, then knelt at her feet, opening a small, battered leather box. The ring inside winked in the morning sunlight, and she gasped. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It was my great-grandmother’s engagement ring.” He held the ring box out to her. “Cleo Arendse, will you be my temporary, fake wife?”

She pressed her lips together to stop from smiling. “I can’t wear that.”

“Why not? Everyone will expect you to wear a ring.”

Why not? Because it was afamily heirloom. And because it was the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. Probably not to most women’s tastes – Sarah’s wore a far more practical band with three small radiant-cut diamonds – but this art deco ring, a large peach-pink oval stone surrounded by tapered baguette gems in the shape of a sun, was exactly the kind of ring she’d have chosen for herself.

“You don’t like it? You want me to buy something different for you?”

No way was he going tobuyher a ring. She fixed him with a stern look. “You need to stop spending your trust fund like it’s a never-ending supply. And I can’t wear this ring because this isn’t real.”

He shrugged as if that meant nothing. “You can give it back when you leave.”

When she didn’t respond, he took the ring out of the box and slid it onto her left hand where it glittered in the sunlight. It sat a little loose, but not by much. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

If Sarah was right, and Cleo was addicted to the wine-and-roses phase of a relationship, then, as relationships went, this one was pretty damn close to perfect. She’d had the proposal of her dreams, a sexy, half-naked man on his knees with a stunning ring, but without any of the complications, compromises and disappointments of a real relationship. She held her hand out to admire the ring. She planned to savour every moment while it lasted.

* * *

That afternoon, Giovanni visited the winery for the first time since his stroke, his arrival announced by the slow, metallic grinding of the building’s ancient lift. Stoyan wheeled him into the office as Cleo hung up on a call with Kevin.

“Buongiorno, Giovanni.” She rose with a smile to greet him. He already looked stronger and healthier.

He smiled back, looking exactly like Luca for a moment, with the same eye-crinkling mischievous expression. “Where is that delinquent son of mine? He hasn’t left you here to do all the work alone, has he?”

Though he said it with an indulgent smile, indignation tightened her stomach. “He and Silvio are out doing soil nitrogen tests.”

He nodded. “Good, as it isyouI wish to speak to.” He waved for Stoyan to leave them alone, and with a good-natured shrug and a smile for Cleo, the nurse left the office.

“How can I help you?” Cleo moved to the armchair nearest Giovanni.

“I want to know the bank’s true intentions. I want to hear it from you, because my son will not tell me, but he has coddled me long enough.”

She smiled. “Your son cares for you very much.”

He shrugged. Unlike that first time she’d met him, the movement no longer looked unnatural. Whatever Luca thought, the time for coddling was indeed over.

She rose and crossed to her desk to retrieve a file which she handed to Giovanni. “Crown Venture Capital will not foreclose or sell its shares in this vineyard in the immediate future. In fact, we plan to invest more in the business. However, there are certain conditions. My boss has approved this business plan.” It was more a businessrescueplan, but if all went well, and if Giovanni did not fight them on it, in just a few years he could buy back his shares and the bank would be free of the vineyard.

He flipped through the pages, taking in the financial data, the re-allocation of expenses, the cost-cutting measures, the plan to separate the Fioravantis’ personal assets from the vineyard and incorporate the business, and finally, the proposed staff changes. He lingered over this last page, and Cleo’s nerves stretched taut.

“We want you to be able to buy back your shares as much as you do,” she said. “But in order for that to happen, these changes are required, and they’re non-negotiable. We have hired a young man, Dario, to handle the accounting and sales.” She sucked in a breath, summoning courage for this next bit. “But the bank insists that you retire. The vineyard needs a new business manager and a new vintner.”

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