Page 80 of My Fake Italian Marriage

Her laugh came out shaky. “Grazie.”

ChapterThirty-Three

A mali estremi, estremi rimedi.

(Extreme solutions need extreme measures.)

Luca fidgeted with his collar, loosening the bowtie which strangled him.Oddio, but this penguin suit felt constrictive today.

Across the salon, his parents were stationed at the double doors leading from the hall, greeting the arriving guests. Babbo stood tall and strong, looking re-energised. Stoyan hovered a short distance away, but his presence was unobtrusive, perhaps because he wore a smart, navy suit, and was sipping a glass of sparkling wine. Luca could do with a glass himself.

He should join his parents, play the part of the dutiful son, but he was too restless to smile and make small talk, so instead, he headed through the connecting doors into the brightly lit, over-heated ballroom, where music competed with the guests’ chatter. A multitude of perfumes mingled with the heavy scent of the massive displays of lilies, making the air cloying and hard to breathe. He tried, unsuccessfully, to loosen his collar again.

Though most of the guests had already arrived, the ballroom looked barely half full, and only a handful of couples had taken to the dance floor. The lack of a crowd was going to make it hard to avoid Cleo, but he intended to try. There was less chance he’d chicken out of what he intended to do if he wasn’t also fighting the temptation Cleo offered every time he got lost in her eyes.

He snagged a crystal champagne flute from a passing tray, realising, a moment too late, that the old Luca, the before-Cleo Luca, would have taken note of the server carrying the tray, and probably flirted with her. It seemed unthinkable now. Proving to everyone that he was still the same reprobate he’d always been, was going to be a bigger challenge than he’d anticipated.

He emptied his glass, but the splendid Franciacorta barely made a dent in unravelling the knot in his stomach.

“Where is your lovely wife this evening?” Camillo asked, appearing beside him with a full champagne flute and a plate of canapés.

Luca relieved his cousin of the glass and downed half its contents before he answered. “Somewhere here.” He waved a dismissive hand at the ballroom.

Camillo wrinkled his nose in distaste as he eyed the now half-empty champagne flute in Luca’s hand. “That is no way to treat a fine vintage.”

Disrespecting the Franciacorta would be the least of Luca’s sins tonight.

As if their talk had conjured her, Cleo appeared across the room, moving with her usual quick, light steps, full of spring and purpose. She wore her wild hair pulled into a loose bun, and a Merlot-coloured wraparound dress that kissed her curves. It didn’t take much effort to imagine how easy it would be to undo the ties holding the dress together and slide it off.

Luca emptied the flute and was about to hand it back to Camillo when he felt a shift in the atmosphere. It began like a breath of wind rustling through the ballroom, a whisper that grew in strength as it spread. He glanced towards the blue salon and nearly dropped the glass.

Oh no, she hadn’t…? But of course she had.

Praying there wouldn’t be a spectacle—which was, after all, supposed to be his own department tonight—he headed across the ballroom to avert disaster, but it seemed as if the action around him had moved into slow motion. The crowd appeared to double in size, as people leaned together to point and whisper, impeding his path. The music played on, though no one danced anymore.

He needed to reach his father before he said or did anything to create an embarrassing scene or to upset Mamma. But it was Cleo who reached Babbo’s side first. She laid one hand on his arm, and held the other out in welcome to the couple who had stepped into the salon and who waited hesitantly to be invited in.

Luca was sure he’d stopped breathing. His mother looked as if she had too. She paled, her eyes suddenly enormous in her face. But Cleo smiled, as if oblivious to the storm she’d unleashed, as she gestured Gio and Stefania closer.

Gio held out a respectful hand to their father for a handshake, and for a moment Luca definitely did stop breathing, expecting the worst. Babbo ignored the hand, instead stepping forward to wrap Gio in a hug. Air and noise whooshed back into the room.

When Luca finally made it across the space, Gio was introducing his children to their grandfather. Mamma, not bothering to hide the very undignified tears spilling down her cheeks, hugged first Stefania then Gio. And Cleo stood back, as calm as if she hadn’t just performed a miracle.

Because this was definitely her doing. She’d not only set this up, but somehow she’d also managed his father so that he didn’t cause a scene. Luca had no doubt of that.

She smiled as he reached her side, her warm brown eyes suspiciously shiny.

“Buonasera, zio Luca,” Chiara said, inserting herself between them. He squeezed his niece in a one-armed hug, not missing the way Babbo’s eyebrows raised, though the look he sent Luca was more “a-ha, I knew it!” than surprise that Luca was already on such familiar terms with Gio’s children.

As his mother swept her grandchildren away to proudly introduce them to the gawking guests, Gio moved to Cleo’s side and raised her hand to his lips in a gallant gesture. “Thank you. I expected fireworks to explode when we stepped into the room, but Stefania assured me you had my father in hand. I cannot imagine how hard that must have been!”

She laughed. “Not as hard as you might think. Your father’s a teddy bear when you really get to know him.”

Luca quirked a sceptical eyebrow, and she had the grace to look abashed. “Okay, maybe not a teddy bear, but he’s not so frightening when you stand up to him.” Her eyes glittered. “You should try it sometime.”

Maybe. But not tonight. He already had enough to get through tonight. The knot in his stomach pulled tight again, jerking him back to reality with a painful twist. His plan was going to be even harder to enact now, with his brother here, and everyone so cheered by this unexpected family reunion.

“Do you have any objection if I ask your wife for this first dance?” Gio asked.

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