Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
‘C AN YOU TAKE a break for a couple of days? After all, it’s the weekend.’
Phoebe glanced up from the document that might as well have been written in gibberish for all she’d taken in. She’d been unable to stop stewing about what Edo had told her at breakfast. He was all she could think about and now here he was in the doorway, bringing all his intensity to her. And such trouble.
‘It’s Thursday,’ she answered blandly.
‘So we make it a long weekend.’ Edo flashed a smile but his eyes held a slight wariness. ‘Neither of us should work all the time. You’ve hardly seen Italy. Come see more of it.’
‘Why?’ she tried to query lightly even as her pulse leapt.
Because she knew he didn’t want to be a father, didn’t want to be a husband. So it was spending more time with Edo that would be dangerous for her. Already she was trying not to fall for him and pretty much failing. She’d be safer staying right here, glued in front of the enormous computer screens he’d set up for her, only allowing herself to enjoy the physical relationship that he’d assured her would end soon enough.
‘I’ll show you some of our greatest treasures,’ he added. ‘Art, fashion, culture. There’ll be the best gelato of your life.’
He was almost playful, offering just a glimpse of the man he’d been the afternoon they’d met. So seductive. And she knew there was so much more to him.
‘Work-life balance,’ he added lightly, taking a single step into her office. ‘We’ll leave in the morning, so you have time to clear your paperwork.
Well, she hardly had that much to sort before she could walk away from her desk. But if someone in the room failed at work-life balance, it was the heartbreakingly handsome man tempting her right now. She didn’t really understand why he was asking her to do this—but if anyone needed a break, he did, and she wanted to be the one beside him while he did.
‘Okay,’ she said.
He nodded and walked away, leaving her staring after him. What he’d told her this morning was horrifyingly sad. Poor Dante. Poor Edo. But he’d wanted to be there for his brother, he’d wanted to do all he could, which showed he was loving. He was just desperately hurt. So no wonder he preferred superficial pleasures with temporary play mates. His wasn’t a raw wound but an infection to the bone and maybe it could never heal. But he was offering her another moment—and she simply couldn’t resist. Of course she wanted to see more of Italy. Especially with him.
* * *
They flew first thing, accompanied by three burly bodyguards. Phoebe gazed out of the helicopter window, enthralled by the view of the changing countryside. They walked slowly through the heart of Florence. Edo selected the café—he had coffee, she juice, and they nibbled on cornetti and he then took her to the Uffizi.
She stood in front of the enormous paintings and stared, her heart so full.
‘She’s not as beautiful as you.’ Edo’s whisper tickled her neck and pierced her thin-skinned heart.
Phoebe rolled her eyes. ‘You’re not suggesting I’m more beautiful than a Botticelli?’
‘I’m insisting you’re more beautiful than Spring herself.’ He took her arm and led her out of the gallery. ‘Come on, we need to get to Milan and find an evening gown.’
‘Why do you need an evening gown?’
He grinned. ‘You need one for the opera. Have you ever been?’
She shook her head.
‘We are the home of opera,’ he declared. ‘We are the best at it.’
‘You think you’re the best at everything—food, music, fashion, sex—’
‘And am I wrong?’ He pressed his hand to his heart. ‘You love Italy. You wanted to come here for years. Not to attend an opera while you’re here is a crime.’ He swept her along with his infectious energy. ‘In the summer I’ll take you to the outdoor theatre in Verona. The nights are hot and sultry and it will stir your passion. You will love it.’
In summer? Had he forgotten that by next summer they would have a child? That—according to his plan—she and their baby would be in London. Without him . But she blinked away that reality, because right now he was smiling and charming and sliding her easily into a little more trouble.
A different set of bodyguards greeted them in Milan. First stop was a couture fashion store. She took one look at the window and refused to get out of the car even when the bodyguards gestured that it was safe to emerge.
‘The dress code is this formal?’ she half-wailed.
‘It is the opening night of the season and we have prime seats.’ Edo chuckled.
‘But I can’t—’
‘You can pay me back once you’ve made your first five figures,’ he pre-empted her primary concern. ‘I’ll know where to find you.’
As they walked in, the assistants immediately straightened, shooting charming smiles at him and slightly widened eyes at her. Self-conscious, Phoebe instinctively covered her belly with her hand, but then the assistants became impossibly more attentive and charming, fussing over her with wide smiles and promises to find the perfect outfit. Shooting her an amused glance, Edo took a seat near the rear of the store.
‘You’re not going to stay and watch?’ she whispered, appalled.
‘What else would I do?’ He smirked. ‘I’m looking forward to the fashion show. Besides, they’ve offered me coffee and apple cake.’
There were several possibilities but in the end it was a toss-up between a midnight-blue and a floral.
‘You choose.’ He shook his head when she appealed for his opinion. ‘You get to please yourself.’
The asymmetry of the blue appealed, with its one dramatically feathered sleeve and one bare arm. It was loose enough around her middle to hide the blooming curve of her belly while showing off her legs. One assistant found delicate shoes to match and both they and the dress were tissue-wrapped and bagged before she’d even glimpsed a price tag.
Fifteen minutes later, their driver stopped outside a strikingly modern apartment building.
‘Is this a private hotel?’ she asked as his security team moved them through.
‘No, this is my place. I was only in that hotel for the convenience for the meetings.’
Phoebe’s curiosity was uncontrollable but she tried not to go bug-eyed as the lift opened on the top floor, revealing a luxurious apartment. It was as beautifully furnished as the vineyard estate—comfortable but revealing little about him personally. There was art but no personal photos, no small trinkets anywhere. But there was a massive home office. The man worked all hours, all the time.
‘Do you want a beautician appointment before the opera?’ he muttered as he followed her into his sumptuously spacious lounge.
She turned to face him. ‘Is that what people do?’
He shrugged a shoulder. ‘You could have a rest if you’d rather.’
She half-smiled at his supposedly relaxed amiability. This was a very well-behaved Edo. He was offering her options instead of backing her into a corner, into her ‘choosing’ the one he wanted. But she knew what he wanted. The same as what she did. They’d not been alone like this all day and she’d not gone to his room last night, so it had been a while since she’d kissed him. She ignored the inner alarm sounding that she was in more than a little trouble. That this was now more to her than a release, that it was a need to connect with him in a more than physical way. Oh, she worked to ignore that.
His eyes gleamed as he watched her gaze linger on his lips. ‘Rest?’
She could only nod.
* * *
There was no rest; in fact, they ended up rushing to get ready in time for the opera. Phoebe swept her hair into a high bun and rubbed on lipstick.
‘Thank goodness for this dress, it gives me enough drama, right?’
‘Yes, but would you like a little extra sparkle?’ He strolled towards her in his elegant suit and unfurled his palm.
She gazed at the stunning drop earrings. They were probably real diamonds, not crystals, and she couldn’t think. ‘When did you get those?’
‘I saw them online, thought you might like them.’
‘You online-shopped?’ She was stunned. When? Why?
‘From a Milanese jeweller, they were couriered here this morning. It’s not that big of a deal.’
She bit her lip. ‘You don’t have to buy me things.’
That wasn’t what they were doing. This was all—and only—happening because of the baby and he didn’t want this.
‘Not even for your birthday?’ he said softly.
She gaped and gazed into his guarded face.
He shot her a knowing smile. ‘You didn’t realise?’
‘I’ve lost track of the days.’ Her heart pounded and confusion tumbled through her. ‘I didn’t tell you it’s my birthday.’
‘I’m aware.’ A fleeting smile lit his eyes. ‘But I had your passport, and all the paperwork for our wedding, and I’m a details person.’
‘So you got me these as a birthday present.’
He nodded. Then she realised that this whole day was a birthday present.
‘Phoebe?’ He froze. ‘Why do you look like you’re about to cry?’
Because she was about to cry. He had no idea how barren her birthdays had been. It was partly why Ryan’s gift-giving had overwhelmed her. But in hindsight she saw it had always been a performance—he’d given her things in front of others. To impress everyone. But this was just Edo and her, and no one was here watching. She blinked rapidly, desperate not to embarrass either of them.
It’s not that big of a deal.
He’d not meant this to be emotional. Not meant it to mean anything. But she didn’t know how else to take it. Maybe he was just so wealthy that whisking dates across the country for food and culture and sex was just normal. Except Isabella had told her he never had guests to stay and she knew he worked all the hours and suspected he didn’t spend such time with any one person.
‘Why are you doing all this?’ she muttered.
She’d married him already. They were working out their physical chemistry. He didn’t need to do anything more. These weren’t the actions of a convenience-only husband and it made her wonder—hope—for more. Even when she knew she shouldn’t. Because this was also a man who wouldn’t— couldn’t —open up to her.
‘I thought you might enjoy it.’ He looked wary. ‘You were listening to opera the day we met, it was blasting in your earbuds. You have delicate earlobes and I thought the earrings would be nice.’ He reached out and touched one. ‘You kept your paracetamol in a Botticelli coin purse, but you hadn’t been to Florence to see the original paintings.’
He’d noticed those things? Remembered them? He’d personalised this whole trip for her. Because he was a details guy . But more than that, he was a nice guy. A prickly, over-protective, deeply pained, nice guy.
‘This was unbelievably thoughtful of you,’ she said huskily.
‘It was nothing,’ he said quietly, his wariness intensifying.
She shook her head. It was too late for him to backtrack now. He’d done it and he couldn’t deny it—his actions told her things about him. He might not have meant this in any romantic or intense way, but it did still mean something. To her.
‘I never had a birthday party as a child, so while this might be nothing to you, I truly appreciate it.’
She took the earrings from him and turned to the mirror to put them on.
‘No party ever?’ He leaned close and watched her.
‘My parents were always away for my birthday. It’s peak racing season.’
‘They’re away now?’ he said. ‘What about presents? Did they bring you one when they got back?’
She shot him a twisted smile. ‘It wasn’t a priority.’
Since they’d learned about all that, Elodie and Bethan had made a fuss of her on her birthday. But Edo had done all this without knowing a thing about her pitiful birthday past.
She looked at her reflection then met his gaze in the mirror. ‘The earrings are beautiful, Edo.’ She would treasure them. ‘This whole day has been lovely. Thank you.’
He met her gaze for a long moment. ‘I’m glad you like them.’
Yeah, it wasn’t just the earrings she liked. Honestly, she didn’t need accessories when she had him standing beside her. She was really, truly, deeply in trouble.
‘We’d better go,’ she said huskily.
* * *
Three bodyguards escorted them into the foyer of La Scala.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she hissed as people parted to make way for their entourage. ‘It’s not like we’re royal.’
‘You look it,’ he muttered, wrapping his arm around her.
He stole her breath so easily. A second later it was stolen again as she stepped into the theatre. She’d entered a red and gold, luxurious world. Their private box had just the two gilt chairs and delicate refreshments. It was desperately intimate and romantic. Until she glanced down and saw a bunch of upturned faces.
‘People are staring,’ she murmured.
‘Stare back haughtily,’ he instructed with a wink. ‘The audience is here to be seen as much as watch the opera—or at least, until the curtain rises.’
Was that why he’d wanted her well-dressed and bejewelled—to be seen? No. Edo wasn’t Ryan. This was different. Edo had brought her out in public only because he’d guessed— correctly —that this was an experience she’d dreamed of. This wasn’t a generic night out, this had been considered—tailored, for her birthday. And as lovely and touching as it was, she couldn’t let herself read more into it. But that was a new battle.
‘It’s a spectacle, yes?’ he asked.
Absolutely. She forced her focus away from him and onto the scene before her. In moments she was fascinated by the fashion, the hauteur, the hum. Beautiful people of all ages streamed in. Phoebe watched one elderly couple slowly walk to their seats. They kept holding hands as they waited for the performance to begin. They looked like they’d been to many performances together and suddenly she was wistful as anything.
‘It’s a tragic love story,’ Edo explained as the orchestra tuned. ‘Tosca will do anything to save her lover, even sacrifice herself.’
It didn’t matter that her Italian was limited, the music was overwhelming, the story epic. Phoebe lost all sense of time in the intensity of it. In the second half, the lead tenor sang a solo that savaged Phoebe’s heart. Not only hers—the entire audience was silent for several long seconds after the singer ended.
When the applause finally thundered throughout the theatre, she turned to Edo—and froze. The man was ashen . There were beads of sweat on his brow and, while he was staring at the stage, she was certain he wasn’t even seeing it. She put her hand on his but he didn’t respond. This was more than being swept up in the emotion of the opera—something was actually wrong.
‘You need some air,’ she said.
Keeping hold of his hand, she stood before he could answer. Or argue. She led him out to the quiet foyer, gesturing for the bodyguard to stay back. Edo leaned against the wall and drew in a deep breath. She waited, watching the colour slowly return to his cheeks.
‘I forgot it was this opera,’ he muttered gruffly. ‘That clarinet solo at the start of that aria…’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘It reminds me of him.’
It took her a second to understand. ‘Of Dante?’
‘My mother was a music teacher…did I ever tell you?’ He rubbed his forehead and grimaced ruefully. ‘No, I know I didn’t. She was a musician before she married Dad. Dante inherited her gift. She taught him several instruments but the clarinet was his love. He was extraordinary. The aria reminded me of him.’
But—given that reaction—he didn’t want to be reminded. Phoebe’s heart ached. ‘He played that piece?’
‘Beautifully.’ He bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t need to apologise.’
‘You’re missing the end of the opera.’ He forced a smile. ‘Spoiler alert. Everyone dies.’
‘I know.’ She nodded. ‘Big drama. Maybe we should leave before the rest of the audience comes out.’
He sighed. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘Of course not.’
The doors were opened by those silent men who kept a distance even as they formed a protective ring around him—and, for now, her. They kept people away. Kept him isolated. Because he insisted on it. He didn’t want comfort or support from anyone. Yet the irony was he gave it so well. He was caring —he had been with her the afternoon they’d met, and since. He had been to George by taking over his business. He just didn’t want to be.
Deep pain like this didn’t magically get better. So Phoebe couldn’t let herself be confused by his generous actions today. She couldn’t let herself think that he wanted anything more with her beyond this temporary marriage. He wasn’t trying to convince her to stay. He’d explicitly told her he didn’t want her close—not long term. He couldn’t even look at the sonogram picture of their baby. He wanted them safe but ultimately far from him because he wanted to remain alone.
He thought he’d let his brother down. He’d lost pretty much all his family and he didn’t want to build a new one. All of which broke Phoebe’s heart. He should have more. And yes, she wanted him to have that more with her . But she had to stop thinking in that direction. She had to protect herself and her baby and couldn’t let herself fall any further than she already had. She had to keep her distance too, right? Because she’d also been hurt. And she couldn’t trust her own feelings—she’d believed in someone’s kind gestures before and had been wrong to.
* * *
As soon as they were back in his apartment, Edo poured himself a drink. Phoebe watched him splash the whisky and mutter beneath his breath, and couldn’t remain silent.
‘What was he like?’ she asked softly.
She caught sight of his crumbling expression as he abandoned the glass and turned away. Instinctively she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her head against his back. He didn’t have to answer, but in this moment there was no way she could leave him alone with this agony.
Edo held her arms around him so she couldn’t pull away. Her warmth at his back was about the only thing keeping him standing. And he didn’t want her to move to be in front of him. He couldn’t bear to see the compassion he knew would be in her eyes right now. He thought about Dante daily but he hadn’t talked about him properly in years . ‘It’s painful to think about him,’ he muttered.
‘But you can’t stop, right? You loved him,’ she said softly. ‘He deserves your thoughts of him. He was your brother. ’
That clarinet echoed in his head, and he needed to mute that sad melody, so he talked to cover it. ‘He was two years younger than me,’ he muttered. ‘Totally different. He was music. I was maths. He daydreamed and was always late. I was school captain and on time.’
‘But you were close.’
He nodded. ‘We fought each other but teamed up against everyone else. I carried our grandfather’s expectations, while he carried our mother’s. We both knew pressure,’ he interrupted. ‘We both wanted fun. He wanted a Vespa. I wanted a Ferrari. The nearest either of us got to either were the die-cast models we had as kids.’ God, he hadn’t thought about those in for ever. ‘They were red, of course.’
‘So the Vespa you took me on that afternoon…’
‘I bought it for him,’ he said tightly. ‘Years too late.’
Phoebe’s arms tightened and Edo couldn’t stop speaking—admitting things he’d never told anyone.
‘Our mother died a year after Dante was kidnapped,’ he whispered. ‘She was just broken. Her death traumatised Dante even more and I…’
‘None of it was your fault, Edo.’
Oh, but it was . He stiffened, pulling back, trying to compress the feelings that spilled out regardless. What was he doing? He couldn’t spoil more of her night with his selfishness.
‘I’m sorry, this is your birthday.’ He loosened her arms and turned to face her. Tried to step up. ‘And you’re tired.’
She looked so beautiful. ‘You miss him,’ she ignored his diversion.
‘Always.’
‘And your parents—’
‘Not my grandfather.’ Not the workaholic automaton who’d cared about money most of all. The one he was most like.
She cupped his face in her hands. He didn’t want her sympathy. That wasn’t why he’d told her. But honestly he didn’t know why he’d told her any of this, didn’t know why everything was bubbling up inside him now when for so long—for years —he’d been perfectly fine. Great, in fact. Until she’d stormed into his life and changed everything. She’d accused him of emotional blackmail before and he’d deserved it. Now he didn’t want to play on her tender-heartedness either.
He tried to step back but she was stronger than he realised. Or maybe he was weaker. Too weak to resist gazing at her, taking in the depth in her eyes, the parting of her lips, the fineness of her features. The emotion in her expression, in her hold. Her soft warmth invited him and was irresistible. Once more, he stood still in that timeless, overwhelming moment of want.
He would kiss her. He couldn’t not kiss her. But it wasn’t to release tension. Wasn’t to submerge all these awful emotions in pleasure. He just wanted to kiss her . Wanted to touch her . Be close to her . He wanted to give to her.
But he couldn’t talk any more. He could only act. She said nothing as he led her to his room and unzipped her dress. She was beautiful. Sweet and soft and with that quiet, dignified strength that felled him. He gently unhooked her earrings, then let down her hair. He didn’t deserve this bliss, but she did. He dropped to his knees. Caressed her. Worshipped her. Because this was all about her, not his own escape. Not this time. He kissed her as she ought to be kissed. Loved her the way he would if he could. And she didn’t just let him, she met him. Her legs pressed close around him, her arms tight, her kisses endless. But he couldn’t hold her gaze. And she buried her face in his shoulder as she came. Hiding part of herself from him too. He couldn’t call her out on it when he was doing the exact same thing. Hiding how important this had become.
He held her as she slept—for the first time staying with her for the entire night. He curled around her, drawing her close and resting his arm over her waist with his hand splayed on her burgeoning belly. Until now, they’d never spent an entire night together. Except now, despite feeling an exhaustion that was more than physical, he couldn’t sleep. He measured his breathing, slowly counting in a futile attempt to fall into the abyss. Her fresh scent filled him. Her body was warm against his, her breathing was slow and peaceful and he was almost asleep when he felt a bump against his palm.
He stilled, confused. It happened again. A tiny nudge. A sharp one. He froze, processing. And then a wave of emotion hammered him. How could she sleep while a little person was apparently practising football kicks inside her belly? He gently smoothed his fingertips over her stomach, back and forth, wondering if there was any way to lull the acrobat inside. He’d barely been able to think about the reality of the baby. But here it was, a shocking reminder of the responsibility for which he would never be prepared—a tiny, playful poppet that would soon become a small playful child. A child who ought to have a little brother or sister to play with—to tease, to protect .
His heart felt horribly full, horribly near to bursting. But there could be no sibling for this baby unless Phoebe met someone else once he let her go…
His guts twisted. He’d seen her watch that elderly couple as they’d made their way to their seats at the theatre tonight—they were clearly a life-long love match. Edo was stopping her from finding one of those. She was sacrificing those chances in her life now when she should have so much more. He’d not even been able to give her a birthday without selfishly lowering the mood. He could never give her all she ought to have, could never be the man she deserved. Frankly, aside from money and security, all he could give her was good sex.
But that was all she’d wanted from him anyway, wasn’t it? She’d had less than average with her jerk ex and all she’d actually wanted from Edo was a thrill that afternoon back in the summer. Then just her no frills, sex-on-demand honeymoon. Nothing more.
The problem for him was that she was dangerously irresistible—and not just sexually. He liked being around her. Liked how he felt when she was near—when she was working alongside him, dining opposite him—talking and laughing.
But he’d unintentionally pulled on her heartstrings, and he didn’t want her staying with him out of pity. He would do them both a favour by letting her go.
But the thought of her meeting someone else savaged him all over again. Edo knew loss. Intimately. He knew it again now. Mourning not what had happened but what might have been. For the future that he might’ve had if he were a different person. If he weren’t damaged. If he were actually good enough, for her . But he wasn’t. He’d been unable to properly support his mother. He’d failed his brother repeatedly. He couldn’t fail Phoebe too. And never their baby.
He had to fix all this. Somehow get his distance and perspective back. But in this smallest of hours, and at this darkest time of night, he was so damned tired. So he stayed curled around her—pressing his chest to her back, entwining his leg with hers, stroking his fingers gently across her belly. And, as exhaustion swallowed him into sleep, he accepted how awful he really was.
Because he didn’t want to let her go at all.