Chapter Four
THEY’D BEEN IN the air for almost two hours before Massimiliano emerged from the rear of the plane, striding towards Amelia in a pair of suit trousers, and a business shirt that had been unbuttoned a little at the collar, and with sleeves that were pushed up to reveal his tanned forearms. She’d been with him that morning, when she’d brazenly insisted on sex being included in their marriage agreement, but it was still a shock to see him striding down the plane with all the appearance of some kind of god brought to live with the mortals.
He was so incredibly handsome, so strong and muscular, that her breath caught in her lungs for a different reason now.
The delicious meal of garlic scampi and rice, served with a crisp white wine and followed with a cheesecake, had long since been cleared away, and she sat now with a fine bone china cup of tea on the table that came out of her chair’s armrest.
He took the seat opposite, not bothering to hide the appraising way his eyes roamed her.
Then again, he’d done this to her—his purchased bride.
With a few calls, and no doubt a small fortune, he’d turned her from a run-down, exhausted waitress in discounted high-street clothes, to a woman who looked, on the surface at least, as though she were born to zip around in a private jet.
He nodded his approval. ‘This suits you.’
She sipped her tea, silently wondering if that was true. While she knew she looked polished, she didn’t feel entirely like herself. Maybe she wouldn’t for the next two years.
‘We must almost be there,’ she said.
‘Yes. Have you been looked after?’
She let out a soft laugh at the question. ‘I’ve been stuffed full to the brim,’ she admitted. ‘Your staff is lovely.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
She found it hard to believe a man like Massimiliano hadn’t noticed how beautifully elegant his flight attendant was.
‘And this is some plane.’
He looked around, as if seeing it through her eyes. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘I mean, it’s enormous, Massimiliano.’
His gaze returned to her face. ‘It’s necessary.’
She was about to ask him why, when he swiftly changed the subject. ‘When we get to Rome, you’ll be taken to the hotel where you’ll be staying for the next week.’
Her insides twisted. She’d spent the whole morning being prodded and primped at his command, and now here he was, laying down yet more orders for her? Where was her free will? Where was her input into this plan?
‘Funny, I don’t remember us discussing a hotel.’
His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. ‘Do you have a better suggestion?’
She realised, too late, that the only alternative was to stay with him. And for all she’d negotiated a wedding night into their marriage, the idea of spending a week rattling around in whatever luxurious palace he called home had her nerves stretching to breaking point.
‘No,’ she said, meekly.
He nodded once, moving on. ‘Your grandparents are eager to see you. We will have dinner with them, tonight—’
‘Wait a second.’ The air rushed out of her lungs. ‘You’ve told them about this?’
He stared back at her for a beat. ‘You know the reason for this marriage, yes?’
She could hardly hear him over the rushing of her blood. She’d signed a contract hours earlier, with six suited lawyers in the room overseeing matters. She knew this was going to happen. But somehow, the involvement of her mother’s parents made it all feel so unbearably real.
‘So, tonight, we dine with your grandparents. Tomorrow night, my grandfather.’
Her heart turned over in her chest at the way his voice deepened slightly.
‘And the wedding?’
‘Will take place in a week.’
Her jaw dropped.
‘The licence is in the process of being procured. The ceremony will be intimate—just us, your grandparents and my grandfather, unless there’s anyone else you’d like to invite?’
She shook her head. Even if she’d had close friends, she wouldn’t want to involve them in this farce. ‘I thought you needed the whole world to know you were marrying me?’
‘They will know. I have a PR team engaged to manage that side of things.’
She blinked across at him, with a growing sense that this was ballooning so far out of her comfort zone. ‘What exactly will that involve?’
‘They’ll drop a press release, field enquiries from the media, arrange events for us to attend as necessary, organise interviews.
’ His eyes glittered with a determination that struck her as utterly unrelenting.
He looked as though there was nothing and no one who would ever stand in his way.
‘By this time next week, the entire world will know that Contessina Rossi has returned to Italy, and that she has married a Moretti.’
Amelia blinked away, but the twisting in her stomach lasted all the way to Rome.
At this point, she really shouldn’t have been surprised by the ease with which Massimiliano could organise incredible grandeur and luxury.
Yet she still couldn’t quite fathom the way he’d secured such a suite for her accommodation, and had it stocked with all of the clothes, accessories and make-up she’d had selected for her that morning.
Was it really only that morning? Her mind whirled at that, to think she’d woken up in her tiny shared flat, contemplating the fork in the road she found herself at, and now she was here.
So far down one of those forks there was no turning back.
Amelia had rejected her Italian heritage a long time ago, and yet, almost as soon as she entered her suite and glimpsed the world-famous skyline of Rome, the mix of old and ancient, her heart was humming and buzzing with a need to be out there, rather than in here.
To walk the streets that her mother, grandparents, and all her forebears, had trod.
To breathe the same air and see if it felt like home, in the same way it did when she was running to catch a Tube or walking along the Thames.
For while the penthouse was stunningly beautiful, it was also very untouchable and intimidating.
Whereas this city was a living, breathing part of history, a city that existed beyond just buildings and roads, but that had its own soul.
She could feel it, even up here, wrapped in luxury, and what she wanted, more than anything, was to be down amongst it.
She changed quickly, slipping into a pair of tailored trousers and a silk blouse.
There were a dozen new pairs of shoes—more than she remembered having seen, much less agreed to—and most of them were heels.
But thankfully, the shopper had included a pair of leather loafers, which she opted for.
They were supple, soft and incredibly comfortable.
Her lips pulled to the side as she reflected on how different her life was from Massimiliano’s—and that of anyone of his wealth.
Her last pair of shoes had been bought well over a year ago and they were vinyl, not leather.
She’d practically worn the sole right through but, until they actually fell apart, they were what she’d had to put up with.
Until today.
Pushing thoughts of her marriage agreement, fiancé and grandparents from her mind, she grabbed her new designer handbag and crossed it over her body, setting off from the hotel to explore this wonderful city while she had a chance to do so.
Massimiliano couldn’t fault a single part of the operation. Everything had fallen into place, just as he’d planned. Just as his plans always did.
Amelia’s acquiescence had been swift and rational, her requests minimal. And her grandparents had been so thrilled at the prospect of a reunion with the granddaughter they’d thought lost to them for ever that they didn’t show even a hint of despair at the idea of her marrying a Moretti.
He’d told them his love affair with Amelia had been brief and intense, and that they couldn’t imagine living without being married.
It had been strange, saying those words, for Massimiliano knew he would never feel that way in reality.
But he hadn’t needed to feign his pleasure at the prospect of their marriage.
Just hearing the joy in his grandfather’s voice had made it worthwhile.
He rode the elevator to Amelia’s suite with unwavering commitment to this.
Even her insistence on a wedding night was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Sex was definitely not something he wanted to complicate the easy, professional nature of their transactional marriage, but it wasn’t as though he had a track record of letting sex complicate anything.
As for Amelia, he had to take her at her word that she could have one night with him and not let it turn into more.
He pressed the buzzer to her suite, hand brushing over the ring box in his pocket. It had been the last piece to collect, something he couldn’t simply buy from a jeweller in London. This ring had been in the family safe, and he’d needed to go to Rome to collect it.
He pressed the buzzer again, glancing at his watch. He was right on time, which gave them a small window in the hotel before leaving for dinner. Just long enough to present her with the ring, answer any last questions she had, and then leave.
All according to plan, just as he liked it.
Except, when Amelia opened the door a second later, not only was she far from ready—dressed in a hotel-issue robe with her long blonde hair loose around her face—she looked as though she’d been hurt. Fallen? Her cheek was bright red and there was the beginning of a bruise near her eye.
‘Amelia?’ He didn’t wait to be invited in, but rather, stepped straight through the doors so he could look down at her more closely. ‘What happened?’
Her lower lip wobbled as she glanced away from him, towards the lounge suite. What colour there had been in her face dropped, turning her ashen and white, except for the injury.
‘You’re hurt. Did you fall?’
She glanced up at him again, shaking her head. She lifted a trembling hand to touch her cheek and winced.