Page 26 of The Italian's Marriage Bargain

‘It will be nice to have some time together at last.’

‘We’re going to be working,’ Felicity pointed out, but she knew what he meant. The prospect of lunch, dinner and breakfast with him caused a bubble to well in her stomach just at the thought. Her abhorrence of hotel life seemed to have vanished after a fortnight practically alone in the house with Rosa. Moserallo was beautiful, but tiny. She’d explored every last street, walked for hours along the winding paths, attempted to chat with the locals, but without Luca she always felt as if she were just killing time, filling in the long empty hours between dawn and midnight, and the prospect of a full evening alone with him stretched before her like a delicious treat. A night in his arms with no beastly helicopter swooping out of the sky and plucking him away at some ungodly hour in the morning. ‘Still, I’m sure we can squeeze in a lunch break.’

‘Morning coffee too,’ he whispered, his sensual mouth nuzzling the edge of her ear. ‘And how about afternoon tea?’

‘That’s English.’ Felicity giggled. ‘I thought the Italians had siestas.’

‘Even better.’

‘Signore.’Rosa was back from the telephone and Felicity pulled away hastily, her cheeks scorching as the elderly woman eyed her disapprovingly.‘Signorina Anna e al telefono, desidera parlare con Lei.’

‘Anna is ringing from the hotel?’ Even with her non-existent Italian, the combined words of ‘Anna’ and ‘hotel’ made the message pretty clear. The fact that Anna was on the telephone at this ridiculous hour had all Felicity’s senses on high alert, but she watched Luca’s reaction with relief—he rolled his eyes.

‘Ricardo is only letting her stay there two or three days a week now,’ he offered by way of explanation. ‘She will already be working.’

‘She sleeps at the hotel?’

‘Of course.’ Again he rolled his eyes. ‘I am the only fool making the journey each day. We leave in fifteen minutes.’ Luca smiled, grazing her cheek with a kiss before calmly following Rosa down the hall, completely unaware of the utter chaos about to let rip in his ordered, tidy bedroom.

Felicity’s reflexes were like lightning. Taking the stairs two at a time and entering the room, she flicked on her heated rollers, then made a vague attempt to gather up her books. But good as her intentions were, Felicity knew there wasn’t a hope in hell of getting any work done. With Luca in the same building, concentrating on the finer points of Strategic Management or trying to wrestle with Organisational Analysis would no doubt prove an impossible feat. But, perhaps more to the point, never when she had accepted his offer had it even entered her head that she might be seeing Anna. God, she wished she had hours to tart herself up. Images of sleek Italian beauties, brimming with fashion sense, sent her into a momentary spin of panic as she waded through her wardrobe, praying for some sort of divine intervention—or at the very least a good hair day.

A smart navy trouser suit normally reserved for interviews was the best she could come up with. A touch too formal for studying, perhaps, but Felicity consoled herself that she was going to one of the most glamorous hotels in Rome—she could hardly rock up in jeans. Slipping on some heels while simultaneously brushing her hair, she abandoned all hope of a meeting with her rollers as she heard the sound of the chopper revving up in the distance—no respecter of the fashion crisis going on just a stone’s throw away. The best she could hope for now was a massive squirt of gel and a prayer that the slicked-back look wasn’t a complete fashionfaux pas.

‘Felice.’

She heard her summons, but ignored it, scrabbling instead in her bag for some eyeliner, pinching some colour into her pale cheeks, then rougeing her full lips.

‘Felice!’ She heard impatience in his tone now; standing back, she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror, admiring her handiwork as she stared at the sleek, sophisticated woman that smiled back at her.

‘Felice!’

Picking up her bag, she stood at the stop of the stairwell, watching quietly for a second as he paced up and down the impressive hallway, glancing furiously at his watch as he shouted into his mobile phone.

‘Was that the third and final call?’

He turned, glancing up impatiently and beckoning her with his free hand, but somewhere mid-gesture he stopped, the rapid Italian fading as he bade a hasty goodbye. Clicking off the mobile, he stood perfectly still, engulfing her with the intensity of his stare, a muscle twitching in his face as she slowly walked down the stairs towards him.

‘You look…’ He swallowed hard as she joined him, the heady fragrance of her perfume reaching him before she did, a precursor of the delicious parcel of sophisticated femininity that tentatively joined him. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said simply, taking her hand as they stepped out into the crisp morning air.

‘Signora.’Rosa ran up behind them and Felicity turned in surprise, the elderly lady initiating a conversation was something of a novelty. ‘You no finish your pastry.’

‘Oh.’ Felicity glanced down at the curling pastry Rosa had wrapped in a serviette, the yellow custard oozing out of the sides, and felt her stomach tighten. ‘Thank you, Rosa.’

‘Breakfast on the go,’ Luca said dryly. ‘Come on, Felice.’

Felicity had never been on a helicopter before, and as Luca took her hand she gave a gurgle of excited laughter. They ducked, running under the blades, the false wind catching in her throat, and Luca nonchalantly climbed in, then took her hand and hauled her none too gallantly inside.

It would have been too obvious to get out her mirror, but as it was still dark outside she managed a quick check of her reflection in the window as the helicopter lifted off the lawn, glad to see the hair gel she had used really was as long-lasting as the label had promised and her hair hadn’t reached manic proportions yet.

‘You look fine,’ Luca mouthed, catching her eye as she turned from the window and making her blush as she realised she’d been caught.

But she didn’t want to look fine. She wanted to look divine, stunning, to knock everyone’s fabulously expensive silk stockings off as she gracefully swept into the building.

To show Luca’s world that she wasn’t a complete hick.

The noise of the rotors didn’t allow for much more than amicable silence, but as the sun rose over the Italian Alps and the chopper buzzed through the sky, hugging the mountain so close Felicity was sure if she opened a window and reached out she could have plucked a handful of snow from the side, the true beauty of Luca’s country finally hit her.

She could see Moserallo fading in the distance—acre after acre of neatly rowed vineyards surrounding the knot of winding roads that all led to the war memorial, standing tall and proud, gazing down on the delicious landscape, a true meeting place where old men gossiped and teenagers kissed. She could see too the stone villas, nestled in the hillsides, and the white church so small now it looked like a model. She craned her neck for a final glimpse as it ebbed out of sight, finally understanding just why Luca made the journey each day, how bland a hotel must seem beside this rich, inspiring land.

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