Her First-Date Honeymoon

That earned him a hurt glance. Remorse prickled along his skin. But why was he feeling guilty? None of this was his doing. What on earth was she doing in Venice anyway?

‘Do you think it was wise, coming to Venice? Without a hotel booking? Wouldn’t you be better off at home?’

She crossed her legs with an exasperated frown that told him he wasn’t getting this. ‘I did have a hotel booking. Or so my ex told me. But he never transferred the funds so the booking fell through. He also cleared out our joint bank account. Anyway, I don’t have a home. Or a job. I moved out of my apartment and resigned from the college because my ex was being transferred to Sydney with his work and I was joining him.’

‘And your family?’

A flicker of pain crossed her face. But then she sat upright and eyed him coolly. ‘I don’t have one.’

Despite all the hurts and frustrations of the past, and the fact that he had far from perfect relationships with his emotional and unpredictable mother and grandmother, he could never imagine life without them. What must it be like to have no family? Had she no friends who could take their place?

‘Your friends...?’

With her legs crossed, she rotated her left ankle in the air. Agitated. Upset.

‘I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going back to London. I have no home to go to. I can’t go back...I can’t face everyone. I need some time away. After I was released from police custody I checked out of the hotel we’d been staying in...’ She paused and bit her lip, drank some whisky, grimaced. ‘I ran away.’

‘You’re a runaway bride?’

Her generous full mouth twisted unhappily. She refused to meet his eye.

‘I’m not putting my friends out by sleeping on their sofas. My closest friend Rachel has just had a baby; the last thing she needs right now is a lodger. This is my mess—it’s up to me to sort it out. My ex might have stolen everything from me, but he isn’t going to stop me from living my life. I’ve always wanted to see Venice during Carnival. And I fully intend doing so.’

Her mouth gave a little wobble.

‘We had organised our wedding for this week so that it coincided with Carnival.’

She was putting up one hell of a fight to keep her tears at bay. He felt completely out of his comfort zone.

‘I’ll pay for your hotel room by way of compensation for any inconvenience my grandmother’s actions may have caused.’

‘I don’t want your money.’

Old memories churned in his stomach at her resolve. He knew only too well that it masked vulnerability.

He remembered throwing guilt money from Stefano, one of his mother’s boyfriends, who had just shoved it into his hands, off the balcony of Stefano’s apartment. He had got momentary satisfaction seeing Stefano’s shame. It had been short-lived, though, when he and his mother had been forced to sleep in a homeless hostel that night.

He had stayed awake all night, unable to sleep, vowing he would never be in that position again. Vowing to drag his mother out of poverty and to protect her. Even if her behaviour had led them to sharing a room with eight strangers. He would be a success. Which meant he would no longer be held hostage by poverty, by the lack of choices, the motives of other people.

It was an ambition he was still chasing. He still needed to leave behind the spectre of hunger, the fear of not being in control, still needed to prove himself, still needed to make sure he protected his family...and now the tens of thousands who worked for him.

He looked at his watch and then back at her. She was blinking rapidly. Unexpected emotion gripped his throat. He forced it away with a deep swallow. ‘It’s late. We can talk about this in the morning.’

‘I can stay?’

The relief in her face hit him like a punch. This woman needed compassion and care. His grandmother should be here, finishing the task she’d started. Not dumping it on him. He was too busy. In truth, he didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t get tangled up in this type of situation. He kept others at arm’s length. No one got close. Even his mother and grandmother. And that was not going to change.

‘You can stay for tonight. Tomorrow I will organise alternative accommodation for you.’

* * *

Half an hour later Emma lay on cool sheets in the bed of another bedroom, her mind on fire, wondering if the past few hours had actually happened.

A knock sounded on the door. She sat up and stared at the door dubiously.

‘Emma—it’s Matteo.’

Her heart flipped in full operatic diva mode. Did he have to speak in a voice that sounded as if he was caressing her? And what did he want? Had he changed his mind about her staying?

She cautiously opened the door and drank in the sight of Matteo, freshly showered, his thick brown hair damp, wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms. The golden expanse of his hard sculptured torso instantly left her tongue-tied. And guilty. And cross. She should be on honeymoon right now. Not staring at a stranger’s body, trying to keep lustful thoughts at bay.

She folded her arms. ‘Can I help you?’

Her ice-cool tone did little to melt the amusement in his eyes.

An eyebrow—a beautiful, thick eyebrow—rose. Without a word he raised his hand and held out a toy polar bear, barely the size of his palm, grey and threadbare.

‘Snowy!’ She grabbed the bear and held it to her chest.

‘I found it under my pillow.’

‘I forgot about him...thank you.’

His head tilted to the side and for a tiny moment he looked at her with almost affection, but then he looked back at Snowy with an exasperated shake of his head. Probably questioning the wisdom of allowing a grown woman who slept with a diseased-looking toy polar bear to stay in his home.

He turned away.

She should close the door, to signal that his appearance was of little consequence, but instead she watched him walk back to his room—and almost swooned when he ran his hand through his hair, the movement of the powerful muscles in his back taunting her pledge to give men a wide berth.

He swung back to her. ‘I’m sorry about your wedding.’

A thick wedge of gratitude landed in her chest. She wanted to say thank you, but her throat was as tight as a twisted rag.

He nodded at her thank-you smile.

Her heart beat slow and hard in her chest.

They stood in silence for far too long.

He seemed as unable to turn away as she was.

Eventually he broke the tension and spoke in a low, rolling tone, ‘Buonanotte.’

Back inside the room, she climbed into bed and tucked Snowy against her. She was fully aware, of course, that the first thing she should do in her bid to toughen up was to banish Snowy from her bed. But when she had been a child, alone and petrified at boarding school, he had brought her comfort. And, rather sadly, over fifteen years on she needed him more than ever before.

So much for Operation Toughen Up. An hour in the company of Matteo Vieri and all her vows and pledges to be resilient and single-minded had melted into a puddle of embarrassing tears and ill-advised attraction.

But tomorrow was going to be different.