Page 62 of My Fake Italian Marriage

If only it were that easy. He shook his head. “The first rule of being a Fioravanti is that the well-being of the family always comes first. Family is more important than any one individual’s desires, and what this family needs right now is a vintner who will secure its future, not an amateur. You also need to consider your bank’s investment.”

Cleo’s expressive eyes kindled. “Those are bullshit excuses, and you know it.” She set her hands on her hips. The movement would have looked more intimidating if she hadn’t been naked beneath his shirt. “Kevin trusts my judgment, and I have faith in you. You know this vineyard and this wine as well as Silvio. Why not try? Prove your father wrong. Follow your passion.”

He turned again to look towards the winery. Her faith stirred something in him that had lain dormant for so long he barely knew it was there. That dream of something more for his life.

All his life, he’d made the best of what he had, played the role expected of him, and not allowed himself to dream. He squeezed her fingers. “You almost make me believe it is possible.”

“Because it is.” Her expressive eyes were alight now with excitement. “Please tell me you’ll consider it?”

He held her gaze for a long moment, wondering whether maybe some of the things he wanted might be within reach, after all. Then he shook his head. “You know that we don’t always get what we want.”

She bit her lip, expression thoughtful. “Don’t we owe it to ourselves to try if the opportunity arises?”

Not if the opportunity could end in hurt. He shook his head. This conversation had strayed into deep waters he wasn’t ready to navigate. With so little time left to them, he preferred to keep the mood light and easy, so he added in a teasing tone: “If I say yes to taking over the vineyard, you’ll no longer have a reason to stay. Your job will be done and you will return to London. What if I want to keep you here longer?”

She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, as if struck by the thought, as if she’d forgotten she was leaving. “I promised you I’d stay until after your parents’ anniversary party, and I will.”

Did the reminder that she was leaving cause her the same pang it did him? She certainly did not appear disturbed by it. And he shouldn’t be disturbed by it either. This affair was temporary, as temporary as their working partnership. As temporary as every other relationship he’d ever had.

She bit her lip. “I need to apologise to you.”

“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“I completely misjudged you when we first met. I judged you based on your fancy car, your watch, your clothes, and decided you were just like other men I’d known, that you were entitled and materialistic.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I think maybe that first time you let me drive your car. Or maybe it was when you were willing to sleep on that dreadfully uncomfortable sofa—even though it was entirely your fault we had only one bed!” Her eyes sparkled. “Though, actually, it wasn’t so much you, but rather seeing you with your team-mates that finally convinced me. Your friends are all completely normal people, and not the fancy country club sort.”

He laughed. “There are not a lot of country clubs around here. But if I’d known that would impress you, I would have introduced you to my friends the first night you arrived.”

She dropped her forehead to his chest, as if evading him, and he remembered what she’d said in the car on the drive to Lake Como, how she’d wanted more from her ex than he’d been willing to give, how she’d wanted to be invited to meet his friends and family. She’d wanted a lover who was proud to be with her.

Gently he placed his fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face so she could see the honesty in his eyes. “I am honoured that you agreed to be my wife, even if it’s just for these few weeks.” He placed a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, which the Tuscan sun had dusted with freckles. “And I am honoured that you have let me take you into my bed. Any worthwhile man would be proud to have the world know that you are with him.”

Her eyes glistened, then she blinked and smiled. “You really are good for a woman’s self-esteem.”

Yes, maybe his special talent was a gift, not a curse. To help this woman realise her true worth, to make her feel beautiful and valued, was the least he could do to repay her for everything she had done for him and his family. For her faith in him.

“We should get dressed and go downstairs. My parents will have returned from their walk by now.”

ChapterTwenty-Six

I primi dolori, le prime infelicità, i primi tradimenti sono quelli che ci affliggono.

(The first pains, the first unhappiness, the first betrayals are those that afflict us.)

Nothing had changed since the day of the football match, except that they now shared a bed, yet everything felt different, as if the days were sprinkled with fairy dust. Everything was justmore, and Cleo couldn’t get enough of it. Even days of rain couldn’t dampen her spirits. She couldn’t remember when last she’d felt so admired and desired. Luca made love the way he played football, his entire focus on her, entirely in the moment, sweeping her along so that the usual buzz of thoughts in her head stilled, and everything beyond the two of them ceased to exist. Who wouldn’t want more of that?

But as much as she didn’t want it to end, of course it would. Nothing this wonderful could last; that’s what made it so wonderful. When you had an end date, you didn’t waste precious time complaining that the toilet seat was up, or arguing about whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher. She wasn’t some starry-eyed nineteen-year-old who believed in fairy tales, and she needed to be practical, to remind herself why she was here: the vineyard, Kevin’s promotion.Herpromotion.

And she wouldn’t be needed here much longer. Dario had joined them at the start of the week, bringing a new energy and enthusiasm to the cellar, and quickly winning over Silvio when they discovered they supported the same football club. Giovanni even spent an afternoon at the winery with the young man, sharing his inside information on their distributors, which Cleo had missed as she’d been trapped in another gruelling lesson with Pierina.

There was just one thing they’d not accomplished this past week: they had still not settled on a vintner or manager to replace Giovanni. Each day brought them another day closer to her departure, and if she delayed much longer there would be no promotion or corner office to return to, for either her or for Kevin.

“What’s the hold up?” Kevin asked, exasperated. “How hard can it be to find someone who knows how to make half-decent wine in Tuscany? Just pick one of the people you interviewed.”

But it wasn’t that simple. Because if she offered the job to someone else, she’d be closing the door on Luca’s dream, and she couldn’t bring herself to do that, even if the man himself was too stubborn to realise he was the best person for the job.

---