Page 30 of The Italian's Marriage Bargain

‘At my usual deli,’ Felicity laughed. ‘This is what Joseph and I used to eat when we came to Rome. We couldn’t afford to go to fancy restaurants for every meal, so instead we found this wonderful deli. We’d go off and have a picnic lunch somewhere wonderful—though I admit the wine is rather an acquired taste; I just stuck to mineral water.’

‘Happy times?’

‘Very,’ Felicity said softly. Looking up, she saw him staring at her, his face softer in the candlelight, those beautiful heavy-lidded eyes loaded with surprising tenderness. ‘And so is this.’

And even though the whole meal probably cost as much as a bowl of soup in Luca’s dining room, if ever there was a moment of perfection in their marriage this was it. No waiters hovering, no staff wringing their hands in an effort to help. Just her and Luca and an entire evening stretching before them. Oh, she knew they had a lot to talk about, knew there was a lot of difficult ground to cover. The stalemate with the lawyers, his refusal to give her a timeline, but for a while she put the questions on hold, determined not to mar this rare moment of togetherness.

‘I bought you a present.’ Handing him the parcel, she watched the question in his eyes as he accepted it. ‘It isn’t much,’ she ventured. ‘I just saw it and liked it. I thought it matched…’ She swallowed hard, grateful for the candlelight to soften the furious blush that scorched her cheeks. ‘It matches your eyes.’

She watched as he turned it over in his hands and then slowly peeled back the mountains of paper, pulling the tie out of its box and running his fingers over it for a moment before speaking.

‘It’s lovely.’ His voice was thick, and when he looked up Felicity was almost knocked sideways by the raw emotion in his proud, expressive eyes. ‘I shall wear it tomorrow.’

‘You—you don’t have to,’ she stammered. ‘I know it’s probably nothing like the quality you’re used to—’

‘It’s perfect,’ Luca broke in. ‘In fact, it is the nicest present I’ve ever had.’

‘It’s just a tie, Luca,’ Felicity pointed out, startled by his reaction. ‘You don’t have to go over the top.’

But Luca begged to differ. ‘Do you realise this is the first real present a woman has ever given me?’

‘Oh, come on.’ Felicity laughed nervously. ‘Your dressing table at home is weighed down with Tiffany cufflinks and little one-offs that only a woman could choose. I’m sure a tie is way down on your list of memorable gifts.’

‘This is the only one I will remember,’ Luca said fiercely. ‘Yes, women have given megifts, and undoubtedly they have agonised over the choice of precious metal or the wording of an engraving, and for a while maybe I was touched. But the sentiment behind the gift tends to wane when it appears on your own credit card statement.’

His voice trailed off, his gaze returning to the fabric he held in his hands, and for the first time since their meeting Felicity felt something akin to pity for him. Something in his voice, his stance, throbbed with loneliness, and she realised there and then how hard it must be for Luca at times. How hard it must be when every friendship, every relationship, both professional and personal, was dictated by his bank balance. The price he paid for adulation.

‘And this is a night I will remember too.’ His gaze drifted around the blanket, the foods she had so carefully chosen, each tiny jar, each taste loaded with memories, both new and old. ‘Felice, there is something I need to tell you—something we need to talk through.’

Her breath seemed to be coming in hot, short bursts, trapped in her lungs as her throat constricted, her fight or flight response triggered as his hand inched over the rug to hers. She could feel it hot and dry over hers, hear the hesitancy in his voice as he spoke.

‘I have not been strictly honest with you.’

It was like the executioner’s axe falling. Her heart was banging in her ribcage so loudly she was sure he must hear it. The confrontation she had sought was here now, but suddenly the truth was something she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear—not if it spelt the end, not if it involved the one thing she simply couldn’t forget or forgive.

‘Anna!’

The word that pounded in her mind spilled from his lips, and it took a second to register that Luca wasn’t confirming her worst fears, that in fact Anna had pushed open the door and was standing just a few feet in front of them.

‘What are you doing here?’ Standing angrily, he walked over to her, running an impatient hand through his hair. ‘Haven’t you heard of knocking?’

‘Since when did I need to knock?’ Anna drawled, then, taking in the picnic blanket, formed a mocking smile on her heavily made-up lips. With one scathing look she managed to sully all Felicity had lovingly created. ‘Oh, am I breaking up a little tea party? Or have the kitchen staff all gone on strike?’ Not waiting for an answer, she flicked on the lights, handing Luca a small card to sign. ‘I need your signature on this, darling. I’m sending Ahmett a basket of Italian delicacies.’ She gave a low laugh. ‘Perhaps I should order two and have one sent up here; I didn’t realise people actually drank that stuff!’

Without a word Luca took the card and scribbled a message, though from the look on his face Felicity wasn’t sure it would be usable.

‘Ricardo just telephoned,’ Anna carried on airily, not remotely fazed by the sudden drop in temperature. ‘He would like you to come for dinner on Saturday.’

Luca opened his mouth to respond, but Felicity beat him to it. ‘We’re busy on Saturday,’ she responded curtly, and if the ambience had been cool before it was positively arctic now, as Anna took the card without a word and turned on her razor-sharp stiletto. Only this time her temper didn’t stay quite so well in check, and she slammed the door loudly on her way out.

Only when she’d safely gone did Felicity let out a large sigh. ‘That was pleasant.’ Turning, she expected an apologetic smile or at the very least a mutual sigh of relief from Luca, but if he had been annoyed before he was livid now. His mouth was set in a grim line, every muscle in his face straining as his blazing eyes turned to her.

‘What the hell did you say that for?’ he demanded. ‘How dare you turn down a dinner invitation from Ricardo without consulting me first?’

‘Idarebecause I have no desire for a night in Anna’s company,’ Felicity answered tartly, but her conviction wavered as Luca’s fury erupted.

‘So you refuse his invitation?’ Luca roared. ‘Ricardo is my family’s oldest friend and you refuse to eat at his table?’

‘I refuse to eat at his wife’s table,’ Felicity responded hotly. ‘I refuse to be humiliated by Anna! I refuse to allow her to laugh in my face at the mockery of this so-called marriage.’

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