Chapter 19 #2
‘You’re the awesome one!’ Katrina threw her arms around Michelle, who returned the hug enthusiastically.
They swayed back and forth, laughing, until Katrina finally released Michelle, and ripped off her blazer.
Then she raised her arms above her head, stretching her whole body.
All the anxiety and stress sloughed off her, as if her soul had just enjoyed an excellent sea-salt scrub.
Really, the meditation app had nothing on this.
She dropped her arms and gave a happy sigh.
She was just about to ask if there was any champagne in the fridge when Michelle went completely still, her face a mask. Turning, Katrina saw that Filippo had poked his head around the door.
‘Come in, come in!’ she said, waving him into the room. ‘Here he is, the hero of the hour! Thank you so much, Filippo, you’ve saved us. Wasn’t he terrific, Michelle?’
Michelle nodded, her face pink.
‘Not at all,’ Filippo said. ‘You were the terrific one.’
But Katrina was glad to see that his gaze lingered on Michelle.
It was time, she thought, to make a tactful exit.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must call Justin and Hamish.
’ Grabbing her handbag, she fished for her phone as she left the room.
She saw a flurry of texts and messages from her mother, Dr Mayhew, her dentist, and—
Oh, joy! A missed call from Justin!
* * *
Michelle stared at Filippo. She couldn’t believe he’d come. He was here – right here. Watching him on TV, she’d been blown away. He’d completely outshone Rod Tomic. Seeing him now, in front of her, was a seismic shock.
He seemed different, somehow. Less confident? Smaller? Locking eyes with him, she saw that he looked almost solemn, and her heart plummeted. Oh, God, he’d probably come to thank her. For helping him and Bianca ‘resolve their differences’.
‘Ahem.’ Rolf cleared his throat. He’d hauled himself to his feet and was eyeing Filippo in a speculative way, a half-eaten Biscoff in his hand. Waving the biscuit at Filippo, he said, ‘I’ve got a question for you.’
‘Of course,’ Filippo said politely.
But Michelle could sense disaster steaming towards them, and flung herself in front of it. ‘Dad—’
Rolf rolled right over her. ‘Was Katrina the lady who helped you with your problems, or was it my daughter, Michelle?’
A complex series of emotions flitted across Filippo’s face. He glanced at Michelle, then back at Rolf. ‘It was Michelle,’ he said, extending a hand. ‘How do you do, sir? I’m pleased to meet you.’
Rolf shook the hand briskly. ‘Right. Same here. And this Torch Holdings you’re CEO of – what’s that, a bank?’
‘A hotel chain. Torcello Holdings. I’m CEO of the Asia-Pacific Division.’
‘Which is the kind of job that would set you up nicely, I expect?’
Michelle wanted to sink through the floor.
But Filippo was a consummate professional and remained utterly composed. ‘Very nicely,’ he said. ‘In fact, I have shares in the company.’
Rolf nodded. Then, as Michelle opened her mouth to say something – anything – that would change the subject, Rolf announced, ‘I’m going to the toilet.’
Michelle waited until he had shuffled off to the restrooms down the hall before she broke the loaded silence he’d left behind. ‘I’m so sorry about my dad—’
‘Don’t worry,’ Filippo jumped in. ‘My mother is much, much worse.’
Michelle had to laugh but quickly swallowed it.
Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I wanted to thank you for what you just did out there. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for stepping up and speaking out.
You saved us.’ God, she mustn’t cry. Her heart raced as she forged ahead.
‘You’re the only one who wasn’t scared to come. I can’t believe you did it.’
‘But what else could I do? Let your business fail?’ Leaning towards her, Filippo added quietly, ‘How else could I get more appointments, after the way I behaved? It was boorish. Unacceptable.’
Michelle’s jaw dropped. ‘More – but what about – aren’t you—’ She had to stop, regroup, and start again, her voice hoarse and unsteady. ‘I thought you were going to work it out with Bianca?’
‘I did. I worked out that she wasn’t the woman for me.’
He continued speaking but seemed to be doing it from a great distance; Michelle felt so dizzy that her ears were affected.
‘She hasn’t changed, but I have. We are selling the house that we bought together, splitting the proceeds and moving on with our lives.
She will restore to me the antique marble quatrefoil water feature in the garden.
I will restore to her the Marcato pasta maker.
She’ll go her way and I’ll go mine.’ Pausing, he seemed to throw the full force of his personality into his eyes, which were like headlights.
‘That’s why I want to make another appointment. With you.’
Michelle couldn’t breathe or speak. She couldn’t even meet Filippo’s stare because it was too overwhelming.
When her phone pinged, she glanced down at it automatically, relieved it was giving her a chance to look away.
But before she could tap on the message (another Dreamwives appointment request), Filippo’s fingers closed gently around the phone.
Plucking it from her hand, he murmured, ‘Unless you’re interested in something a little less professional? I don’t want to overstep any boundaries . . .’
His touch sent heat rocketing through Michelle’s body.
When she grabbed the phone back, glorying in the feel of his knuckles, his nails, the cushion of his palm, she saw a touch of uncertainty in his expression, and it filled her with excitement.
He doesn’t quite know, she thought. He isn’t quite sure.
Then, to settle things once and for all, she switched off her phone and tossed it onto the sofa. His whole face lit up. She watched, mesmerised, as he leaned forward to stroke her cheek.
‘Amore mio,’ he whispered, his hand sweeping down her jaw to cup the back of her neck. Then he pressed his lips to hers.
She closed her eyes, sinking into the warmth and scent of him. When he started drawing away, she returned his kiss fiercely, wrapping her arms around his hard, compact body. She could feel his belt buckle digging into her and wanted to rip it off.
When they came up for air, Filippo exclaimed breathlessly, ‘Che meraviglia! Sei bellissima.’
Michelle didn’t know what he was saying and didn’t care. ‘You know the crazy thing?’ She laughed, running her fingers through his hair. ‘I’m the worst Dreamwife ever.’
Filippo drew her close again. ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ he said, his hands slipping down over her rear end, then sliding up under her skirt.
When they brushed her bare skin, Michelle reeled.
Next thing, she was collapsing onto the sofa, pulling him with her.
Their lips locked. He was trying to shrug off his jacket.
She was trying to unknot his tie one-handed, the other hand groping for his belt, slipping her hand underneath it.
‘Um – hello?’ a voice said.
Michelle sat bolt upright so abruptly that Filippo rolled onto the floor.
As he scrambled to sit up, Michelle peered at the doorway across the room.
A man stood there in a vast, fluffy, sky-blue kangaroo costume, its head tucked under his arm.
At his side, the owlish production assistant flapped her clipboard at the hallway behind her.
‘If you want to do that,’ the assistant told Michelle, ‘there’s a special room down the hall. Third on the right.’ Pushing her glasses up her nose, she gestured at the blue kangaroo. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, Captain Joey needs an energy drink . . .’