Page 18 of The Italian's Marriage Bargain

‘I’m not holding back from you,’ Felicity said firmly. ‘Believe me, there’s really nothing very exciting going on in there.’ Tapping the side of her head, she gave a tight shrug, picking up the menu the steward had handed her and pretending to read. She tried to immerse herself in the delicious delicacies on offer but it was all to no avail when the only delicacy she craved sat not a breath away. ‘It’s just hard saying goodbye to my family…’

‘Am I not your family now?’ Still his hand was on her cheek, hot and warm and infinitely strong. ‘Can’t I make you happy?’

Oh, how she wanted to lean against him, to bury her head in that strong, strong shoulder.

How badly she wanted to believe him.

But how could she?

Every push for information, every attempt to rationalise things, to draw up some sort of guideline, a blueprint for their marriage, had been rebuked with a familiar flick of his wrist. Every attempt to work out where she stood shrugged off.

‘Details?’ Luca would say. ‘I’ll take care of all that. Just enjoy now.’

But now wasn’t enough. A taste of paradise had left her hungry for more.

The questions were becoming more insistent now. Oh, Luca had been true to his word—since the night of the awards she hadn’t even laid eyes on Matthew, just heard the excited chatter of the hotel staff about his undignified exit, and even though it was what she had wanted, secretly dreamed of, still it unnerved her.

Matthew had had a contract, shares, a token holding in the company—yet it had proved nothing against the might of Luca.

What did she have?

She glanced down at the massive diamond of her ring, glinting back at her, soothing her momentarily, distracting her from the impossible conundrums that taunted her mind. For all Luca’s supposed poor taste, the ring he had chosen for her was just exquisite, a massive single pear-shaped diamond set high on a claw setting. The simple fine gold wedding band was almost obliterated by the sparkle of the stone.

Surely it counted for something?

‘Talk to me, Felice,’ Luca grumbled. ‘I hate flying.’

‘I’m tired, Luca.’ Felicity sighed, resting back in her seat and closing her eyes, desperate for two minutes’ peace, for a chance to gather her thoughts into some semblance of a shape, to wade through the mass of emotions that seemed to be suffocating her.

Being married to Luca was exhausting.

Wonderful, exciting, exhilarating—yes.

But still exhausting.

Life with Luca was a constant rollercoaster ride, his volatile nature unreadable at times, but Felicity was slowly working it out. Sulking moods culminated in huge rows which invariably ended up in bed. He simply couldn’t comprehend that Felicity might actually like her own company now and then, might need ten minutes in the bath without him joining her, might want to read a book without discussing the entire plot along the way.

It was like living with a spoilt two-year-old, Felicity thought with a surge of spite that surprised even herself. Yes, like trying to cope with a spoilt two-year-oldanda demanding newborn, if you factored in his rather impressive manhood, that awoke at all hours waiting for attention and very loudly making it known that until it was satisfied no one in the room was going to get any sleep!

Her spite was short-lived. As his hand lazily stroked her thigh it took all the restraint she could muster to hold her relaxed pose, to quell the bubbling cauldron of emotions that Luca so easily aroused.

Luca wanted no more than she did.

She didn’t want her own company right now, didn’t want to lie in the bath alone when Luca was just a room away—and what was the point of reading when Luca was the book she lived by, when he was her beginning, middle and end?

‘You’ve never told me what happened to Joseph.’

Flicking her eyes open, Felicity let out a weary sigh and again focused her attention on the menu. But when he took it out of her hands she realised Luca wasn’t going to be brushed off. He carried on with this most painful subject. ‘It would seem to be a no go area with your father?’

Felicity nodded. ‘He gets upset if we talk about it. He says talking won’t bring him back.’

‘Talking is good,’ Luca said gently. ‘Why don’t you try?’

Automatically she went to shake her head, to retrieve her menu and dismiss his offer. But when she briefly looked up the eyes that met hers were so steeped in concern, so infinitely understanding, her dismissal died on her lips. Despite her initial annoyance, deep down she was grateful. Grateful for Luca’s insight, for his persistence.

Grateful to have someone to lean on, however fleetingly.

‘He died in Rome.’ The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable and, Luca held her hand as she struggled to find words to sum up the most difficult part of her life. ‘Joseph had a melanoma.’ She registered his frown. ‘A form of skin cancer. He’d had it for a while, but things seemed to be going well—the doctors said he was in remission, said that he was over the worst. They were wrong.’

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