“Dante?”
“No, I was married once, before Dante. To a terrible man. He hit me and stole all my money. Luca was very angry. He tried to warn me Federico was no good, but I would not listen. Your husband, he is very protective of the people he cares for. But you will know this already, because he loves you.”
Should she tell Isabella that theirs was a business arrangement? No, she’d let Isabella keep her delusions. Then maybe Sophia could indulge in them from time to time. It may be the only thing to cling to in the lonely months ahead, left in the villa with two people she could barely communicate with.
“Isabella, do you have any interest in interior design?”
“Yes, of course. But I have no experience. I was a journalist until a few months ago. It was very stressful, and Dante and I want to have a baby. Stress is not good for the conception.”
“Would you be interested in working with me? I’ve almost completed my interior design course and was thinking about starting a business.” Her coursework had been slow, with little time to devote to it in London. But with all the time she currently had on her hands, she could probably finish within a month. Then she’d be well and truly bored.
“It sounds a very interesting idea. I will discuss it with Dante. What does Luca say about you starting a business? He has lots of money; I am sure he does not expect his wife to work.”
“He’s so busy, I’m sure he won’t mind.” She turned her attention back to the swatches. “What do you think of this fabric?”
After choosing a suitable material, they went for lunch and then a pedicure. Sophia tried to be discreet in checking the time, but Isabella caught her.
“Am I boring you?”
“No, not at all. Why would you say that?” Sophia stalled.
“Because you keep looking at your watch. If I am not boring, then you must be counting the minutes until you see Luca again.”
Busted.
“Do not worry. I did the same when I started to see Dante. And even now, when he is away playing rugby and I cannot go with him, I feel like a piece of me is missing. It is stupid, no? We are smart, beautiful women. But without our man, we are a little lost. Some days it makes me sad to be so dependent. But then I look at my husband and I would not have my life different. I love him and do not care that his happiness is more important than my own. Because I know he feels the same way.”
Sophia looked away. Would she and Luca ever feel that way about each other? Did she want to be so dependent on someone for happiness? No, it would be better if she built her own life, found her own place in the world. Then if Luca tired of her, she would have something to fall back on. It was too dangerous to put all her eggs in the Luca basket—no matter how enticing he made it seem.
Two hours later, Sophia was giving herself the same pep talk. She sat beside her husband in the Maserati, crawling through Milan traffic. Luca seemed deep in thought as he stared out the windscreen, his hands clenched on the steering wheel.
“Is everything okay?”
He turned to her as if surprised she was there. “Sorry, my mind was still at work.”
“Is there a problem? Sometimes talking about it helps.”
“No, I can take care of it. Tell me about your shopping with Isabella. Do you need more money?”
His message was loud and clear—she was his wife, his partner, only when other people were around.
• • •
Sophia put her book down on the table, rested her head on the back of the sofa, and stared at the ceiling. This isn’t working. None of it.
Marriage to Luca was supposed to have given her financial security, time to pursue her dreams, and become the person she wanted to be, far from the troubled girl who had fled her home at the age of sixteen. Instead she was a twenty-three-year-old woman who spent her whole day in anxious anticipation of the fifteen minutes or so when she saw her husband—if she saw him.
After three weeks of living in the villa, she knew if she got up at 6:00 a.m., she just might catch Luca before he left for work. He’d ask her what she planned to do that day, his hot gaze roving over her body. But then he’d politely kiss her goodbye on the cheek, and the next sound was his car fading into the distance. Maybe if she moved into his room, he’d find more time for her. But he still treated her like a possession, albeit a pampered one. She was the rare pet he’d bought to show off to his friends but forgot when it suited him.
Before she could share her body with him, she needed him to share some small part of his life with her. Preferably a non-business part, if that even existed.
Sometimes she even stayed up until he came home around midnight. He’d look exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes, his jaw covered in stubble. Again he’d ask about her day and respond with a list of meetings or contracts he’d bid for when she asked about his. With the amount of work he seemed to accomplish each day, she wasn’t surprised he was so tired.
So far, Sophia had divided her day between her interior design coursework and learning Italian from the books that Jonathan had given her. She practiced her pronunciation on Vittore and Maria. She’d also discovered a love of gardening and spent many hours following the older man around as he explained to her, patiently and slowly, about the plants he tended. She had a grubby little notebook she carried with her, and when he used a word she didn’t understand, she wrote it down to look up later.
Every couple of days, Luca would email a letter or document for her to check his English. It took a whole twenty minutes to correct and return each one, so they neither filled her time nor brought her any closer to her husband.
Last week, when the weather had turned wet, Sophia had asked Maria to teach her to cook, and she’d spent several happy days in the kitchen. She could now manage to make a couple of Italian specialties. While showing her how to prepare ravioli so they didn’t explode while cooking, Maria had prattled on about bambini. With the pointed look Maria had given her during the conversation, the cook probably wondered if there would ever be any children in the house.
With a sigh, Sophia got up from her chair and moved to the mantel, running her index finger over Luca’s handsome face in the photo with his mother. If she was unhappy with her marriage, then it was time she did something about it and stopped being a doormat. What would Luca would do if, when he came home tonight, he found a note saying she’d gone to Paris for the weekend? Would he worry? Call her back immediately? Or not even notice she was gone? The phone rang and she raced to answer it.