“And I will not be told who I’m allowed to hang out with. Jonathan is a friend and a client. If you really wanted to stop rumors of me with another man, then perhaps you should be home more often.”
Luca put his glass down with a thunk. Some of his martini splashed onto his hand. Before she could offer to get a towel to wipe it, he strode across the room and pulled her into his arms.
“Si, perhaps I should come home more often.” His head descended and he took her lips in a blistering kiss. Gone was the gentleness of half an hour ago. This was raw passion, demanding she surrender or challenge in return. Not one to back down, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, dueling with his. One of her hands roved over his back, the other tangled into his hair.
As suddenly as he’d pulled her to him, he released her. Through her heavy breathing, she barely discerned his mother’s light footsteps on the marble floor. Luca walked over to the window, his back to her. Her heart pounded, and she ran a shaky hand over her hair.
“Please excuse me, Giada. I just need to … get something,” she said as her mother-in-law entered the room.
“Luca, cosa c’é?” Giada asked as Sophia left.
What’s up? Sophia’d like to know the answer to that as well.
• • •
Luca rolled the tumbler full of ice and whiskey across his forehead. Well, he’d screwed that up epically. Ask the wife, who can scarcely stand to be in the same room as you—the one you are so desperate to make love to you can barely stand upright—to move into your bedroom in order to fool your mother that you married for love, then pick a fight with that wife before dinner about something entirely not her fault. Oh yeah, then kiss her until you’re about to burst into flames seconds before your mother walks into the room. Smooth, real smooth.
He took a swig of the whiskey. What the hell should he do now? Sophia had hardly spoken a word during dinner and had only picked at her food. His mother had glared at him from soup to tiramisu. He was a failure as both husband and son. He could skulk back to the office or to his flat in Milan. Or he could man up and apologize to his wife. Then sleep on the floor.
He downed the rest of his drink and headed up the stairs. The bedroom was in darkness when he entered. Perhaps Sophia wasn’t even in there. Maybe she’d slipped into one of the other rooms after his mother had gone up to hers. He released a sigh of relief when he heard a soft rustling in the bed.
“I’m not asleep if you want to turn the light on,” she whispered.
“The moon is full tonight. I will open the curtain instead. The light will not be as harsh,” he replied. He pressed a button, and the little whirling motor pulled the drapes open. The moonlight bathed the room in an eerie, white light, and he could see Sophia sat up in the bed, the blankets clutched to her chest.
“I have come to apologize. I was a brute.” His practiced speech went out the window when he saw her in his bed. He so wanted to climb in beside her, hold her in his arms, and beg her forgiveness that he didn’t even know where to start now.
“Luca, you need to know something about me. I have never had to justify my actions to anyone. My parents didn’t care what I did. So when you tell me what I can and can’t do, I immediately get irritated.”
“I understand. But you also need to see how your actions affect my reputation. Remember, the culture is different here. Old-fashioned attitudes still prevail. When a married woman spends time with a man who is not her husband, people will talk. Especially if they are seen leaving together and driving to his house.”
“But his house is full of workers. We have never been alone. I don’t hang out with Jonathan to start rumors. It never even crossed my mind that people would think I was having an affair with him. We’re friends, that’s all. Like you and Isabella are friends. I’ve been alone in this house for weeks. I rarely see you. I feel more like a pampered pet than a wife. Maria and Vittore are nice, but every conversation is a struggle for me. Isabella has been kind and taken me shopping. But she has her own life and travels with Dante as much as she can. I’m bored and lonely. The documents I help you with take only minutes to do. Is it any wonder I’ve become friends with Jonathan? We speak the same language and he values my advice. He makes me feel needed.”
He searched her eyes, wishing he’d turned on the light so he could see her better. It still stung that she gave her friendship so easily to another man when she was so distant with him. “I need you, too, Sophia. And I trust you. I will not mention it again. But I ask that you take care how you act toward him in public.”
“I can agree to that.”
“And I am sorry you are lonely. I told you when I proposed that I was very busy with my work. I have not abandoned you on purpose.”
“I know, Luca. I understand that your work is very important to you. And as your wife, if something is important to you, it’s important to me. Talk to me about it. Don’t shut me out. We have to share things if this marriage is going to work.”
“I will try. But you will have to remind me. Sharing is new to me.”
“Me too. I’ve been independent for a long time. I have to make adjustments as well, take your feelings into consideration when I do things. And while we are on the subject of sharing … ” She moved to her knees and cupped his face with both hands. He sucked in a breath as her head descended toward his. She’d never initiated a kiss before, and he steeled himself to be gentle, not frighten her with his passion.
Her lips caressed his lightly. One of her hands slipped from his cheek to the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair. His blood rushed to his groin again and before the last vestige of reason left his brain he released her lips, burying his face in her neck. Her heavy breathing echoed his.
“What else is it you want to share, amore mio?”
“I think it’s time we shared your bed on a permanent basis.”
Chapter 9
Sophia took a deep breath. She was finally going to do it. She had a fluttery feeling in her stomach, but no dread.
“Are you sure? I do not want to force you into something you are not ready for,” Luca said, but he was already unbuttoning his shirt.
“I’m ready. But before we start, you should know that I have scars. They’re not pretty.” She searched his eyes for a hint of revulsion, but the light was too dim.
“Are they from your past?” He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her inner wrist, setting off a series of tingles up her whole arm.