An Inconvenient Love (Crimson Romance) Page 2

  Excitement raced through her. It was a job offer. And from the sound of it, based in Italy. She was tired of London. Tired of working two, sometimes three, jobs just to make ends meet, never getting ahead. A move to Italy would be the change she longed for, a chance to escape the constant reminders of her horrific past. Before she could respond however, he continued.

  “I need more than just an English-speaking secretary. I have reached a point in my life where all my business associates are married, and new clients are always asking about my personal life. It seems to disconcert them when I say I am unmarried, and it is becoming a hindrance to my success. Family is very important in Italy. It is seen as a sign of stability. However, my entire focus at the moment is on building my business. I do not have the time now, or in the foreseeable future, to romance a woman. Besides, a wife who loved me would expect me to be home every night and probably feel neglected with the amount of time I spend working.”

  Sophia struggled to keep her face neutral and not let her puzzlement show. Why was he talking about his need for a wife?

  “Last night at the party you proved to me you are able to read a situation and act appropriately. I also believe you are good at your job. Walter is an astute man; he would not have kept you employed if you were not a hard worker.” He leaned toward her. His voice had dropped even more, and she wondered where he was going with this so-called opportunity.

  “I think, therefore, that I should align my requirements and seek an English wife. One who would be able to assist me in my business, and also provide the home life expected of a man in my position. Are you interested?” He turned to her, his eyes sweeping over her face, awaiting her response. His smile held a hint of warmth, but his eyes were guarded, as though there was something he wasn’t telling. Something that prompted him to ask her, of all people.

  This was it. She’d finally snapped. Her brain had imploded from worry and boredom, and as a result she was fantasizing about marriage proposals and being swept away to live in a castle in Italy. At this point she should reach into her pocket and pull out the other glass slipper. Except the only thing in her pocket was lint. And the only romance in her life was in the books she read. Maybe Luca was the one having a meltdown? She searched his face for some sign of insanity.

  He looked serious. The contents of her stomach shifted. The man had actually just proposed to her. “Mr. Castellioni, I’m sure there’s a long line of suitable women who would love to marry you. We only met yesterday. And as I told you at the party, I’m just a receptionist.”

  “You called me Luca last evening. What has changed?”

  Aside from one of them going completely insane? Him for proposing … or her for actually considering it and not walking away.

  “Last night was for show, to help Mr. Wilkins. This is … ”

  “This is between us. I can assure you there is no other woman I would consider marrying. I realize it may seem absurd to speak of marriage when we have recently met. You said last night you were alone. Did I misunderstand? Are you in a relationship?”

  “No, no, I’m not involved with anyone. But that doesn’t mean I am going to run off and marry the first man who asks me,” she replied. Even if he is incredibly gorgeous. What kind of man offers marriage to a complete stranger? One who considered marriage a business arrangement, obviously. Could I do the same?

  “You do not have to give me an answer now. Have dinner with me tonight, and we can get to know each other. I would appreciate, though, if you would keep this discussion between us.” He leaned forward again and there was an intensity in his dark eyes but a warmth, too, a banked passion that both unsettled and intrigued her.

  Dazed, she agreed to meet him again at Quaglino’s. Sophia didn’t even ask how he had managed to get a table at a restaurant that was usually booked a month in advance. She was sure if he just showed up, the maître d’ would lose someone else’s reservation in order to accommodate him. If he expected her to bow to his every desire he was in for a shock. Sophia Stevens was no man’s doormat. But she wasn’t about to reject him without discovering exactly what he wanted.

  And what she could get out of the deal.

  Chapter 2

  Luca finished his martini and put the empty glass on the bar of the West End restaurant. Sophia was forty minutes late. Perhaps he’d read the signs wrong and she wasn’t coming. He was sure, though, that he’d seen a hint of curiosity in her eyes. Eyes that in the bright spring sunshine had surprised him with flecks of gold and amber amid the green.

  He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t show. She must think him a complete idiota to propose marriage after twenty-four hours. But it seemed the most logical course of action. He needed someone to proofread his English letters and a wife to deter other women.

  Two weeks ago, a very important prospective client had brought his wife to their business dinner. She’d spent almost the entire evening with her hand on Luca’s upper thigh under the table, despite his best efforts to remove it. He’d have shrugged it off as a bored woman looking for mischief, but she was the third wife of a business acquaintance this year who thought he was part of the package deal. Last night had been the worst because Leslie Wilkins hadn’t even tried to be subtle.

  He didn’t do married women. Ever.

  But it seemed his plan had failed before it even started. He tossed a couple of bills on the bar and was about to leave when he caught sight of Sophia standing in the doorway. His pulse quickened, but he put it down to relief that she’d showed. It had nothing to do with the way her blue dress brought out the gold in her hair, or the sway of her hips as she approached him. A little voice in his head warned that if he were a wise man, he’d get on the next plane back to Milan and forget he ever saw her. But he hadn’t got where he was today by playing it safe all the time. Risk was a part of business. And this was business. The little voice laughed.

  “Sorry I’m late, there was a security alert on the Tube,” she greeted him. Her voice was breathy and a light flush covered her skin. Whether it was from a rush to get to the restaurant, or she experienced the same physical attraction, he wasn’t sure.

  “It is not a problem. Our table is ready, but if you would prefer a drink first … ”

  “Oh, no. I’m starved.” She gave him another of her dazzling smiles.

  Luca signaled to the maître d’, who sat them at a prime table near the bottom of the stairs where they could see and be seen. However, he didn’t take his attention from Sophia. She smelled faintly of cucumbers and melon, a refreshing change from the sickly perfume most women of his acquaintance seemed to bathe in.

  She glanced around the restaurant. “I’ve always wanted to come here. I pass by on my way to work and wondered what it was like inside. I’m surprised you managed to get a table on a Friday night. It’s packed.”

  “I have my ways. Shall I order champagne? Or perhaps you would like to try my country’s equivalent, Prosecco?”

  “Not for me. Sparkling wine goes straight to my head. I’m not much of a drinker. A glass of water will do.” She buried her head behind her menu, and he waited until she shut it with a decisive snap.

  “Have you decided?”

  “About dinner? I’ll have the sea bass.” She avoided his eyes again.

  He wanted to ask if she’d decided about his proposal, but left the question unasked. It was unnerving how much he wanted her to say yes. For the first time he’d laid all his cards on the table and left himself open to a blunt refusal.

  They should get to know each other. “Have you always lived in London?” It seemed an easy enough place to start. Except she straightened in her chair and fiddled with the cutlery next to her plate.

  “Yes.” She answered sharply. She took a gulp of water. “What about you? You said your company was based in Milan. Do you live in the city?”

  “I have a flat in Milan where I stay if I am working late. However, I recently renovated a villa about an hour north of my office. It has extensive grounds and i
s on the edge of a very old village.” He loved the villa, it was his dream home, visual proof that his hard work had resulted in success. Yet there was something missing—a heart and soul that couldn’t be restored as easy as wood beams and plaster.

  “It sounds beautiful. Is your company a family business?”

  “My father was a laborer in the construction business. I worked with him during summer holidays in my teens. When he died, I started my own company. Soon I had so many contracts that I had to take on additional workers. I got my university degree by studying nights, and just completed my MBA.”

  “A self-made man, then. Your mother must be very happy. Do you have siblings?”

  “No, I’m an only child. What about you? Do you come from a large family?”

  She averted her gaze, staring over his left shoulder. “Yes, although I don’t see them often. My younger brother has just finished school, and I’m trying to help him pay to go to a technical college. So why did you come to London? Was it only to meet with Mr. Bodman?”

  The animation had gone from her eyes at the mention of her family, so he followed her lead in changing the topic of conversation. He sensed there was more to her quick change of subject, but for his present purposes, it would be easier to convince her to come to Italy if she weren’t attached to her family in the UK.

  The server was clearing their dinner plates when there was a commotion at the top of the stairs. Bright flashes of light were accompanied by calls of “Kate, Kate, look this way,” drowning out the buzz of background conversations. Sophia swiveled to see what was happening and sucked in a loud breath as a woman in a short metallic dress and high heels descended.

  “Excuse me,” Sophia said before thrusting her chair back and hurrying from the table.

  Luca half stood, not sure whether to follow her or wait for her return. She’d turned white and knocked over her water glass as she’d fled. The waiter mopped up the spill and quickly changed the linens on the table. By the time Sophia returned, all traces of her rushed departure had disappeared. Except she was still unnaturally pale and her eyes darted around the restaurant as if mapping out all the escape routes.

  “I’m so sorry, Luca. But I have to leave. Thank you for a lovely dinner. I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again.” There was a nervous note to her voice, and she sat on the edge of her seat.

  “Sophia, what is wrong? Are you ill?”

  “No. It’s … I don’t want to be in the same room as that woman.”

  “What woman?” He glanced around.

  “The one who arrived a few minutes ago with the photographers in tow.”

  “You know her?”

  “Yes.”

  He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. “And?”

  “And it’s not something I wish to discuss. She is part of my past, and I have no desire to revisit it.” Her voice was rough and her eyes icy.

  He studied her face. There was much more to this woman than surface beauty. “I do want to see you again. Here is my business card. Call me on my mobile and we can meet again tomorrow. Perhaps spend the day together?” As he passed her his card he held her hand for a moment, shocked to find it so cold. Another shiver wracked her body, but he suspected it was from repressing her emotions rather than any awareness of his touch.

  “I’m working tomorrow. The best I can do is meet you for dinner again.”

  “Then dinner it is,” he replied.

  She nodded, then grabbed her bag and scrambled up the stairs, not once looking back.

  Even the little voice in his head was silent for once.

  • • •

  Saturday dawned gray and wet. Sophia woke up lethargic. She’d had a second sleepless night, going over the previous day in her mind. She wouldn’t be surprised if Luca changed his mind about marrying her after her bizarre departure. For a few hours yesterday, she’d actually believed she was going to escape her past. Then it had come waltzing down the stairs with the paparazzi in the background.

  Might as well get the rejection over with. She pulled out Luca’s business card and sent him a text. That way he wouldn’t have to disguise the relief in his voice when he would undoubtedly tell her he’d been called back to Italy before their meeting this evening.

  Her phone binged almost immediately. A ripple of surprise flowed through her as she read his reply. He still wanted to see her and asked her to choose a restaurant where they could meet. With a smile, she texted back the address for the Thai restaurant down the street. He might as well discover now she wasn’t a fine dining kind of woman. On the rare occasions she did eat out, it was cheap and cheerful. No pretension. If that didn’t put him off, then maybe she’d consider his proposal. Best of all, there was no chance Kathy Summers, or Kate as she called herself now, would set one ridiculously shod foot in the door.

  But first, she still had to get through today. She put on her uniform and trudged the ten blocks to the supermarket where she worked as a cashier on weekends and some evenings. She hated the job, but it helped pay the rent and kept her fed. Helping her brother through college and trying to earn her own degree in interior design had decimated her paltry savings. She was back to square one, living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe that was why she was even considering Luca’s offer; it would solve all her financial worries. Does it count as gold digging if I never actually picked up the shovel?

  Toward the end of her shift, a young mother with a baby and a toddler stood patiently in her check-out queue. The little girl, about three years old, held a huge red apple in both hands and looked up hopefully at her mother. Sophia rang through the meager groceries: three tins of no-name brand baked beans, the cheapest loaf of bread the store sold, and some sausages with a “sell by today” clearance sticker.

  “That’s a lovely apple. Can I weigh it?”

  Sophia put her hand out and the little girl passed the fruit as if handing her a precious possession.

  “Wow, it’s huge. Are you going to eat it all yourself?”

  The little girl shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing about her face. “I’m gonna share it with Mummy. Georgie can’t have any ’cause he doesn’t have any teeth.”

  “I’m sure he won’t mind.” Sophia turned to the young mother. “Two pounds and eighty-three pence, please.” She saw the mother close her eyes for a moment, then look at her daughter and shake her head. The mother picked up the apple and handed it back to Sophia before passing over the two pounds and fifty pence she’d been clutching in her fist. The child’s chin dropped to her chest, but she didn’t utter a word.

  “Please, allow me,” Sophia said softly, adding the apple to the mother’s shopping bag. She’d put the extra coins in the till from her own purse. The little girl’s face lit up when she saw the apple go in the grocery bag. Sophia wiped a small tear from her eye as the family left the store.

  Exhausted at 6:00 p.m., she returned home, wanting only to cook a jacket potato, curl up on her chair, and read the Penny Vincenzi book she’d taken out of the library. The incident with the mother and two children had disturbed her, bringing back memories of her own childhood. The nights she’d gone to bed hungry. The embarrassment of standing in line for the free breakfast at school, while her friends who ate at home stared at her through the window. And the teasing from her classmates about her second-hand uniforms. She couldn’t bear to put her future children through that.

  It wasn’t as if she were holding out for love. Her parents had been in love when they married and lived a miserable existence afterward. In her experience, marrying for love didn’t always equal happiness. But she also didn’t want to end up like her aunt, alone with no family, despising everyone else’s relationships, secretly wishing she had someone to call her own.

  Heading out the door again twenty minutes later, she felt like she was approaching a precipice. Whether she’d fall in, or make it safely across, was anybody’s guess.

  • • •

  Sophia sat against the back wall of t
he Thai restaurant, her eyes trained on the door. She’d deliberately come early, wanting to see Luca’s face when he arrived. If he turned up his nose at the quaint, family-run restaurant, then she’d know she couldn’t marry him. There was no way she could live with a snob. It was bad enough when she had to deal with them at work.

  While she waited, she inhaled the smell of lemongrass and curry—the scent of adventure. For a girl who’d never traveled more than twenty miles from where she was born, eating ethnic food was as close to a foreign holiday as she’d ever got. If she married Luca, though …

  As if conjured by her thoughts, Luca strode through the door. He’d replaced the expensive suit with a pair of chocolate brown trousers and a cream button down shirt. But the change of attire hadn’t diminished the sense of power he still exuded. He glanced around the tiny space, no hint of derision or condescension in his expression. When he spotted her, a smile lit his face and he strode toward her. An answering smile lifted her lips.

  The hostess rushed over and handed him a plastic-coated menu which had seen better days. Despite its slightly sticky nature, he held it firmly, perusing the items as carefully as he had last night at the posh restaurant.

  They ordered a selection of dishes to share and he regaled her with stories of life in Italy as they ate. Luca was attentive, ignoring his phone she could hear buzzing in his pocket from time to time. When the flustered waitress nearly dropped his plate, he simply smiled and whispered words of encouragement, wiping a splash of curry sauce from his sleeve without a second glance at the stain it had left.

  It wasn’t until dessert that he once again broached the subject of marriage. He leaned back and put his arm across the chair next to him. The casual pose belied the intensity in his eyes.

  “I like you, Sophia. I enjoy spending time with you. I believe we could have a successful marriage. I will state up front that I do want children, although I am willing to wait a few years if that suits you better. I see this as a lifelong partnership. My parents’ marriage was based on respect and agreeable companionship, and they were together for twenty years until my father died.”