Page 2 of My Fake Italian Marriage

Yup, just the vote of confidence he’d anticipated. Tempting as it was to laugh, he suppressed the urge. His father wasn’t so weak that Luca could afford to push his buttons. Instead, he shrugged. “What do I know about making or selling wine?”

Sure, his legal practice was hardly overwhelmed with work. In a town as small as Montalcino, wills, real estate transfers and drawing up the occasional contract were about as much action as he saw. But though he could afford to take time away from his practice, did he want to?

There was a reason he chose to live in a tiny house in town rather than in his parents’ palatial home, and it wasn’t for Montalcino’s non-existent nightlife. Luca valued his freedom and the life he’d built apart from the family. Not to mention, he was allergic to hard work, and running a vineyard was hard work.

His father huffed out a breath. “Wine paid for your law degree, that ridiculous apartment you insist on living in, and that fancy car you drive.”

“We should call Gio home.”

Fury flashed in his father’s eyes, but he didn’t deign to answer. Luca sighed. He’d hoped some good would come of this mess, that his prodigal brother might at last be welcomed home, but clearly the stroke hadn’t made a dent in Giovanni’s pride.

He braced himself to deliver the worst. “The London investment bank is sending someone to check on the winery to ensure that their investment is in capable hands.”

Giovanni’s face contorted into a scowl, made fiercer because only half his face responded to the command. They all knew what the bank’s representative would find: Giovanniwasthe vineyard, and without him, there was no one capable in charge.

“They might insist on sending someone to manage the vineyard until you’re better.”

“Over my dead body!”

If he didn’t rest, as the doctor had instructed, it might well come to that, and then where would they be? But Luca held his tongue. “Until you can buy them out, they have a controlling share of the vineyard, and the right to ensure their investment is safely managed.”

Giovanni’s scowl deepened. “I won’t have some banker telling me how to run my business.”

“I’m sure they won’t.” Luca spoke in his most placating voice, the one he usually reserved for will readings and small children. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone experienced to help until you recover. Silvio will still be there to run the farm, but you’ll need someone who can handle the business end of things, and the Lario trade show is only a few weeks away. The vineyard can’t afford not to be represented there, and we both know Silvio is no salesman.”

His father nodded and closed his eyes again, and Luca stifled the resentment that flared at the grudging acceptance. Babbo would rather have a stranger manage the winery than the firstborn son who’d been raised to it.

His father opened his eyes again. “But you will go to Lario, too. I’m not having some English bean counter represent us at our biggest trade show of the year. The least you can do is watch over him. Make sure he knows what he’s doing, and that the Fioravanti name is protected.”

“Fine.” Luca shrugged. It wasn’t worth upsetting a sick man, and he wasn’t going to turn down an all-expenses-paid trip to Lake Como. He’d do what his father asked and go to the trade show, but since the bank would send someone far better qualified than he was, he’d let that poor schmuck do the work. Luca could find plenty of other, far more pleasant, diversions to occupy himself there. “But only on one condition: you let me hire a nurse to look after you when you come home.”

“Fine.”

Neither of his parents looked particularly happy, but at least he’d achieved what he’d set out to do. With a nod for his father, and a quick kiss on his mother’s cheek, Luca took his leave.

The young nurse stood at the nurse’s station, bent over a chart on the desk, offering an excellent view of the luscious curves hidden beneath the unflattering uniform. She turned to him, her dark blonde ponytail swinging, and warm, brown eyes smiling, and his instincts kicked in. He might as well reward himself for making the long drive all the way here to Siena. He stopped beside her, close enough to smell her light, floral perfume, but not enough to intimidate her. “Is there any indication when my father will be able to leave the hospital?”

Her gaze met his and held, the second step of the seduction game, then she angled herself toward him, unconsciously leaning into his personal space. Step three accomplished. She most likely wasn’t aware of the invitation she offered, or how her breath hitched. Most women weren’t. But Luca had perfected the study of women’s body language. He knew a “yes, please” when he saw one, and he could really do with the distraction of a “yes, please” right now.

“The doctor will keep him here a few days for observation.” Her fingers softly brushed his bare forearm. Touch, the fourth step in the dance.

He smiled and lowered his voice to a gravelly undertone. “What time does your shift end?”

ChapterTwo

Chi troppo vuole nulla stringe.

(Those who want too much get nothing.)

“Cleo, could you spare me a moment?”

Cleo paused and popped her head around the glass door of her boss’ office. “Is it urgent? I have a Zoom call with Singapore in ten minutes.”

He nodded and waved her to take a seat. “Close the door.”

Kevin’s door stayed open for everything except hirings and firings. Alarmed, she stepped inside and shut it behind her. “Is something wrong?”

“How do you feel about taking some time off to go to Italy?”

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