Page 22 of The Italian's Marriage Bargain

Turning, a smile painted on, she faced her predecessor, determined to play it cool, to accept Luca’s past as easily as he had accepted hers. But nothing had prepared Felicity for the sheer, stunning opulence of Anna. The newspaper photo hadn’t even begun to capture the magnificent curves, the ripple of black curls that cascaded down her long neck, the magnificent bosom that spilled out of her black velvet dress, the tiny waist flowing into curvaceous buttocks, mocking Felicity’s own less voluptuous offerings. She felt like a pale, washed-out shadow beside this utterly ravishing creature.

‘Felicity, this is Anna…’ Luca didn’t miss a beat, his voice didn’t waver and his smile stayed fixed, but as his hand slipped from her shoulders and came to rest in the small of her back, pushing her gently forward for the awful introduction, she could feel the ball of tension in his fist. From the sudden hush in the room, Felicity knew she had every reason to be nervous.

‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘And Ricardo—’ Luca carried on with the formalities ‘—Anna’s husband and my very dear friend.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Felicity blinked in surprise as Ricardo Giordano stepped forward, her vision of some geriatric playboy vanishing. In his sixties he might well be, but Ricardo was one of those men who aged beautifully. His hair was for the most part silver, but superbly cut, and there was barely a line on his swarthy face. He was almost as tall as Luca, and had a deep, steady voice and come-to-bed eyes that had probably been winning women over for years.

‘Bella!’There was no formal handshake this time, not even the customary air kisses Felicity was getting used to. Instead Ricardo took his time, kissing her none too discreetly on both cheeks and then her lips as Luca’s fist practically indented into her back.

‘You ’ave excellent taste, Luca.’

‘So do I,’ Anna purred, picking up Felicity’s hand and taking her time to examine the ring. ‘We had such a fun afternoon choosing it—didn’t we, Luca?’

Her voice dropped so low it was almost baritone, and Felicity stood there bristling with indignation as Anna surveyed the diamond, a malicious smile curving her full mouth as she shot a black look for Felicity’s eyes only.

‘Of course Luca wanted to rush things,’ she murmured. ‘You know what men can be like. But I said, “No, darling, we have to take our time. I know what women want, and this is something we really should get right.” And we did!’ The note of triumph in her voice didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did her sexual innuendo.

‘Yes, you did,’ Felicity said calmly, slipping closer to Luca, eternally grateful when he reciprocated with a possessive squeeze of her bare arm. ‘So, thanks for your input in choosing the ring.’ Placing her glass on a tray, Felicity shot Anna her own black smile. ‘I’m having such funwearingit!’

It should have been a wonderful night. Luca’s family had pulled out all the stops, opening up their impressive home and welcoming her into the expensively scented bosom of their family, but Felicity felt as if she were trapped on a merry-go-round. The lights and the colours were all merging into one, with only one constant remaining: Anna’s black eyes, mercilessly trained on her.

She wanted to push the stop button, to get off, for Luca to take her home—wherever that was—to get back some order, to establish some sort of routine. She wanted some sort of normality to prevail.

‘It is hard work, yes?’

Ricardo caught her in an unguarded moment, blowing her blonde fringe skywards as she blew an exhausted sigh heavenwards.

‘They’re all charming,’ Felicity countered, her smile snapping back into place. After all, Luca had played the part of devoted fiancé and newlywed for her family’s benefit; it was only fair to return the favour. ‘I’m just tired after such a long flight—although I have to admit I feel guilty complaining; we slept most of the way. I can’t believe that those chairs turned into beds.’

Realising how gauche and unsophisticated she must sound, describing the wonders of first-class flying to this sophisticate, Felicity gave a helpless shrug, blushing to her roots. Ricardo merely smiled.

‘Ah, but there is nothing like your own bed. Especially when you get to my age.’ He flashed her a very endearing smile. ‘You are not used to flying?’

Felicity shook her head, deciding there and then that she liked Ricardo. ‘The occasional family holiday from Melbourne to Queensland and one trip to Europe doesn’t really compare.’

‘You can soon get used to it—that is if you want to, of course.’

Ricardo read Felicity’s frown, his distinguished features breaking into another smile. ‘Our partners lead a jet-set existence, and it can be a bit exhausting keeping up sometimes. Me, I like to stay here, with my grapes.’

‘Your grapes?’

Ricardo grinned more widely. ‘They are my babies.’

He was nice, Felicity realised, and maybe—just maybe—she had got it all wrong. Ricardo was no idiot, and he was certainly a good-looking, sexy man in his own right. Maybe Anna was in love with him. But just as she relaxed, just as the night didn’t seem so bad after all, every nerve shot into overdrive. Ricardo had carried on talking, his voice so casual it took a moment to register exactly what he was saying.

‘I am sorry Anna upset you earlier, flirting with Luca like that. It was most inappropriate.’

‘She didn’t—she wasn’t—’ Felicity stammered. ‘I mean she didn’t upset me.’

‘She did and she was.’ He spoke with the same heavy accent as Luca, but his English was also spot-on, and Felicity lowered her eyes, unsure what to say. After all, this was Anna’s husband. ‘I will speak to her the second we get home. You are a nice lady, Felicity, I don’t want to see you embarrassed. Anna and Luca will just have to learn to be more discreet.’

‘Discreet?’ Felicity shook her head in bewilderment. ‘There’s nothing going on.’

‘Oh, Felicity…’

Recoiling from the pity she saw in his eyes, she shook her head more firmly this time. ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ she insisted, but the doubt in her voice was audible even to herself. ‘Nothing happened at the hotel—nothing at all.’

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