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On the other hand she was in Venice. Sophie sat up and rolled off the bed, almost running to the window before the thought had fully formed, staring out with rapt eyes at the palazzos opposite, at the boats sailing below. She was in Venice and about to go to a party with a gorgeous man before returning to the most beautiful room she had ever set eyes on. So she was a little daunted? Time to pull on her big-girl pants—well, the nicest underwear she owned just in case—and try to enjoy every moment because she knew all too well that moments like this didn’t come her way all too often.
‘Come on, Sophie. Enjoy it. It’s just a couple of days...’ Two days of being someone new. Nobody here knew her, nobody here knew that she was twenty-six, had wasted the last eight years of her life, that she worked sixteen hours a day trying to pay her bills and get her own business off the ground. She wasn’t Sophie Bradshaw, reliable employee of Maids in Chelsea, waitress, chambermaid and cleaner. She was Signorina Bradshaw, the kind of woman who went to glamorous balls and got invited to stay in palazzos. Why not be that woman for two days? After all, she wasn’t expecting to see Marco again after she went back to London. What harm could it do to live the fantasy, just for a little while?
But as she turned to look back at the ornate room fear struck her once again. How would a girl like her ever fit in a place like this? Even if it was for just a couple of days?
* * *
Marco adjusted his bow tie, painfully aware that he was running almost inexcusably late. It had been a long six days. Since his move to London Marco had kept his visits back to Venice as brief as possible—he’d been confident in his contacts in Italy; it had been the rest of the world he’d needed to concentrate on. But a decade was a long time and it was becoming painfully clear a couple of days twice a year was no longer enough. He needed to start spending some significant amounts of time here if he wanted to continue to grow his business.
His mother was also making it very clear that it was time he stepped up and assumed his role as head of the family. Only, guided by her, of course... His mouth thinned. He’d already fought that battle with one parent and he wasn’t sure either of them could count a decade-long standoff as a victory. And now his father was gone it all seemed pointlessly self-destructive anyway.
But how could he complain about the burden of his name when every now and then it opened doors to homes and estates that were kept firmly shut to less exalted sons of the city? Today he had spent the day with an impoverished old Venetian family who were reluctantly selling off some of their family treasures and trusted Marco to do the job for them both lucratively and discreetly. Neither would prove to be difficult; he had a long list of potential buyers who would pay more than market value for first refusal on the beautifully carved furniture, Renaissance paintings and elaborate silverware.
A negotiation like this took time and he had been all too aware that while he was sitting drinking coffee with the Grigionis and dancing ever so politely around his commission, Sophie had arrived to an empty house with nobody to welcome her but Marta, who was a most excellent woman but not the most gregarious of people—and the chances were very high that she would run into his mother before he could warn Sophie just what he was bringing her into.
Several times over the last few days he had been on the verge of cancelling Sophie’s visit. His mother had been so focussed on finding him a suitable Venetian bride he’d hoped Sophie’s presence would throw her long enough to give him some space—but he’d underestimated her desire to see him wed. His father’s death seemed to have intensified her hopes, and nationality no longer seemed to matter. His mother’s eyes had lit up at the news he had invited a date to the party and she hadn’t stopped asking him questions about his English ‘friend’.
At least with Sophie by his side she wouldn’t be able to introduce him to any eligible female guests with that specifically intense focus she usually employed. No, it was probably a good thing he hadn’t cancelled. Sophie was here for just a couple of nights, not long enough for his mother to get too attached to her but long enough to throw her off the scent for the rest of his visit. Bringing a diversion was an excellent idea; he didn’t know why he hadn’t considered it earlier.
The clock had finished striking six when Marco strolled into the salon, adjusting his cuffs as he did so. Sophie was already there talking to his mother and his sister, Bianca, looking a little paler than he remembered but stunning in a pale pink beaded dress, which hung straight down to mid-thigh from two simple knotted straps. Her long blonde hair was knotted up with tendrils curling around her face, her only jewellery a pair of striking gold hoop earrings, which trembled as she moved. His blood began to pulse hot at the sight of her exposed neck. Inviting her had been an excellent idea for several reasons.
