day. As long as I’m available when he needs me to attend a business dinner, the rest of my time is my own.”
Jonathan looked skeptical but shrugged. “Brilliant. I can drive wherever we need to go. As long as you don’t mind my old truck. How soon can you start?”
“Right away. I just need to finish my letter and post it, then I’m all yours.”
The waitress dropped a cup at the next table before scurrying back inside the café.
“Wonder what flustered her?” Jonathan remarked.
“I don’t know. Something I said?”
She glanced back into the café to see all the patrons staring at her. Very odd.
Chapter 8
Luca put his feet up on the desk in his study, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes.
Dio
, he was tired. Everything took so much longer since his marriage. He had to read everything multiple times, focus twice as hard. If he didn’t, Sophia’s face would appear on the page in front of him and scatter his concentration.
He’d tried staying away from the villa, hoping that not seeing his wife in person would lessen her influence. Yet each night he returned home, he felt her presence. Staying at his flat in Milan had also been a disaster, leaving him unable to sleep knowing Sophia was so far away.
When they did spend time together, she would fidget and tidy things, move about the room as if trying to keep her distance from him. How could he make love to her if she could barely stand to be near him?
He’d been living in purgatory for over three weeks. Something had to give. And soon.
His eyes snapped open at a faint noise. He blinked, sure he had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Sophia stood in front of him, wearing only a lace-trimmed ivory camisole and silky shorts. Her hair was tousled and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. He’d never seen her more beautiful.
“I didn’t hear you come home,” her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she was afraid to shatter the moment with words. “I came down to get water, lots of water. Vittore introduced me to
limoncello
and kept refilling my glass. I saw the light on in here … ” The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she kept staring at his throat. “You look tired,” she said almost to herself.
Before he could respond, she moved behind his chair and started to massage his temples. He released the breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding with a groan of pleasure. Her touch, tentative at first, became bolder as he relaxed.
“I have been working on a presentation for Chet Wilkins. There is an abandoned village for sale a couple hours out of Teramo. If he buys it for his hotel, and I get the contract for the renovations, then my company is guaranteed work for several years. In this economy, that is very important,” he said. He wanted her to understand it was work that was keeping him from her, not a lack of interest.
Her fingers ventured into his hair, massaging his scalp. He should tell Sophia to stop; her small hands were working wonders on reducing his tension level—but they were raising other parts of him.
“I’d like to know more. What you do fascinates me. I can’t imagine bringing a whole village back to life,” she prompted.
“Really?” Even his mother’s eyes had glazed over when he’d talked about his work. So he’d learned to not mention it with those outside the business so he didn’t bore them.
“Yes. You rebuild parts of the past so future generations can enjoy them as well.”
Sophia seemed genuinely interested. And he longed to let her into this part of his life, to draw closer to her, like a real married couple. Isabella had hated rugby when she’d met Dante. Now she followed him around the world and watched every game. Maybe if Sophia developed an appreciation of architectural restoration, she’d find him more interesting. Then she wouldn’t have to pretend so much when they were with others.
“The village I want to show Chet has been abandoned for thirty years. All of the buildings are
Jonathan looked skeptical but shrugged. “Brilliant. I can drive wherever we need to go. As long as you don’t mind my old truck. How soon can you start?”
“Right away. I just need to finish my letter and post it, then I’m all yours.”
The waitress dropped a cup at the next table before scurrying back inside the café.
“Wonder what flustered her?” Jonathan remarked.
“I don’t know. Something I said?”
She glanced back into the café to see all the patrons staring at her. Very odd.
Chapter 8
Luca put his feet up on the desk in his study, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes.
Dio
, he was tired. Everything took so much longer since his marriage. He had to read everything multiple times, focus twice as hard. If he didn’t, Sophia’s face would appear on the page in front of him and scatter his concentration.
He’d tried staying away from the villa, hoping that not seeing his wife in person would lessen her influence. Yet each night he returned home, he felt her presence. Staying at his flat in Milan had also been a disaster, leaving him unable to sleep knowing Sophia was so far away.
When they did spend time together, she would fidget and tidy things, move about the room as if trying to keep her distance from him. How could he make love to her if she could barely stand to be near him?
He’d been living in purgatory for over three weeks. Something had to give. And soon.
His eyes snapped open at a faint noise. He blinked, sure he had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Sophia stood in front of him, wearing only a lace-trimmed ivory camisole and silky shorts. Her hair was tousled and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. He’d never seen her more beautiful.
“I didn’t hear you come home,” her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she was afraid to shatter the moment with words. “I came down to get water, lots of water. Vittore introduced me to
limoncello
and kept refilling my glass. I saw the light on in here … ” The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she kept staring at his throat. “You look tired,” she said almost to herself.
Before he could respond, she moved behind his chair and started to massage his temples. He released the breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding with a groan of pleasure. Her touch, tentative at first, became bolder as he relaxed.
“I have been working on a presentation for Chet Wilkins. There is an abandoned village for sale a couple hours out of Teramo. If he buys it for his hotel, and I get the contract for the renovations, then my company is guaranteed work for several years. In this economy, that is very important,” he said. He wanted her to understand it was work that was keeping him from her, not a lack of interest.
Her fingers ventured into his hair, massaging his scalp. He should tell Sophia to stop; her small hands were working wonders on reducing his tension level—but they were raising other parts of him.
“I’d like to know more. What you do fascinates me. I can’t imagine bringing a whole village back to life,” she prompted.
“Really?” Even his mother’s eyes had glazed over when he’d talked about his work. So he’d learned to not mention it with those outside the business so he didn’t bore them.
“Yes. You rebuild parts of the past so future generations can enjoy them as well.”
Sophia seemed genuinely interested. And he longed to let her into this part of his life, to draw closer to her, like a real married couple. Isabella had hated rugby when she’d met Dante. Now she followed him around the world and watched every game. Maybe if Sophia developed an appreciation of architectural restoration, she’d find him more interesting. Then she wouldn’t have to pretend so much when they were with others.
“The village I want to show Chet has been abandoned for thirty years. All of the buildings are
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