The Billion-Dollar Bride Hunt by Melanie Milburne

CHAPTER TWO

MATTEOPULLEDUPin front of a smart white Georgian town house in South Kensington and whistled through his teeth. Who knew operating a dating agency could be so lucrative? Emmie Woodcroft must be raking it in, even if she was just renting this place, let alone if she owned it. But all power to her, as long as she achieved what he was paying her to achieve—finding him a wife in a hurry.

He opened and closed his clenched hands on the steering wheel and took a steadying breath. He was still recovering from the shock of finding out about his father’s last-minute addition to his will. Of course, he could buy several Umbrian estates and have money to spare, but he wanted his family estate. Wanted it so badly he was prepared to do whatever it took to secure it. He had spent years and more money than he wanted to think about restoring the rundown estate, and it was now producing olives, and grapes for award-winning wine. The crumbling villa of his childhood had been completely renovated and he had paid for all of it, his father having struggled financially for as long as Matteo could remember.

But, more importantly, it was the land on which Matteo’s wife and child were buried and he would not be able to forgive himself if he let them down again by allowing the property to be sold. Eight years had passed since his pregnant wife had driven off to attend a pre-natal appointment he should have accompanied her to. They had argued about it that morning. He had been under time pressure from a complicated case he’d been working on for the Supreme Court in London, and had chosen to fly to London rather than stay in Umbria one extra day.

Matteo closed his eyes in a tight blink and clenched his hands around the steering wheel again until his knuckles protested. He opened his eyes and let out a ragged breath. His father had no doubt orchestrated the codicil on his will to force Matteo to marry again, even though Matteo had always sworn he would never do so. He wouldn’t have married Abriana in the first place, but when she’d become pregnant during their brief on-again-and-off-again fling, he had offered her and their unborn child the protection of his name. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time but he often wondered if Abriana’s unhappiness during their short time together had stemmed from knowing he hadn’t been in love with her.

And now he must marry again without love being part of the equation. Because how could it be? He had no desire to love someone the way his father had loved his mother. The way he had loved his mother. He had learned from an early age how destructive deep love could be. He wanted no part of it. He cared about people, cared enough to put himself out for them, but he would never fall in love with anyone. He wondered if it was one of the few traits he had inherited from his mother. She’d given the appearance of love but hadn’t felt it. The only time Matteo had come close to feeling it was when he’d seen the first ultrasound photo of his child. A flicker of something had stirred in his chest...

Matteo removed his hands from the steering wheel and unclipped his seat belt but he stayed seated in the car, taking in deep breaths that snagged at his throat like claws. His gut was in knots, his chest tight, his mind swirling with images of the scene of the accident that had killed his wife and tiny unborn son. Could he even face having another child, knowing there was a possibility it too could be taken away from him? Marrying again without love being part of the equation was asking for trouble. What if his new marriage ended up causing the same pain and destruction as his first? How could he bear it a second time—inflicting hurt and despair on someone who deserved so much better?

He could not forgive his father for putting him in such a painful and impossible situation. It smacked of meddling and manipulation and a cruel type of emotional torture he hadn’t thought his father capable of. Yet here he was, doing all he could to fulfil the wretched terms of his father’s will.

There was a sudden tap on the passenger window and Matteo was jolted out of his torturous reverie. He turned his head to see Emmie standing there dressed in a light-blue dress with a lightweight navy trench coat over the top. Her straight blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, reminding him of a skein of silk. Her periwinkle-blue eyes were highlighted by smoky make-up, including eyeliner, and her full-lipped mouth was a soft, rosy pink.

He’d had trouble keeping his eyes away from her mouth earlier that day. It was a mouth built for sensuality, its contours lush and soft and beautifully shaped. Her nose was straight with a slight elevation at the end, like a gentle ski-slope. Her cheekbones were another striking feature of her face—regal, aristocratic—and her skin was as clear and pure as cream.

He opened his door and went round to help her into his car. ‘You should have waited until I knocked on your door.’

‘I saw you pull up and thought I’d save you the trouble.’

What else had she seen? Matteo was starting to suspect Ms Emmie Woodcroft saw too damn much. He comforted himself that his car windows were tinted. She might not have seen much at all. He normally kept his self-recrimination sessions for when and where he could not be observed.

Emmie moved past him to get into the passenger seat and he caught a whiff of her perfume—a fragrant blend of bergamot and geranium with a base note of patchouli that danced past his nostrils, causing them to flare. He was so close to her he could have touched her, and was surprised at how much he wanted to. Ever since they had shaken hands in her office earlier that day, he had been able to feel the soft, gentle imprint of her hand against his. It had sent a shockwave through his blood, kicking up his pulse in a way he had not expected.

Matteo closed the passenger door for her, strode round to his side of the car and got back behind the driver’s seat. ‘Nice house. Do you rent it or...?’

‘The bank owns most of it but I’m making good progress. Well, better than I expected when I first started in the business.’

He glanced at her as he put the car in gear. ‘How long have you been in the business of match-making?’

She flashed a smile, showing brilliant white teeth that made something in his chest slip. ‘Informally since I was a teenager, actually. I recognised I had a natural flair for understanding which people suited each other and decided to make a career out of it. I’ve been in business five years now.’

Matteo checked his rear vision and side mirrors and then pulled out into the street before he asked, ‘What sort of qualifications have you got?’

‘I’ve done a couple of online counselling courses. I would have liked to do a psychology degree and a master’s after I left school but things didn’t work out that way.’ Something about her tone made him glance at her again.

‘Why?’

Emmie gave a shrug of her slim shoulders, her gaze trained on the road in front, but one of her hands was fiddling with the clasp of her evening purse in a restive manner. ‘My schooling was interrupted during my teens.’ She paused for a beat and continued, ‘I spent a bit of time in and out of hospital.’

Matteo wondered what would have put her in hospital for an extended period but didn’t want to pry. Some conditions were deeply personal. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Anything serious?’

There was another beat of silence.

‘Nothing too serious.’ She gave another smile that seemed a little forced and added, ‘But it gave me a lot of time to learn stuff about people. To listen and observe. I even helped two young doctors to get together. They’re still married with a couple of kids now. They send me a Christmas card each year.’

‘So, you’re a romantic at heart.’

‘For other people, not for myself.’

‘Which begs the question, why?’

Emmie opened and then closed the latch on her bag, the click as it shut overly loud in the silence. ‘I’m helping you find a wife. You don’t need to worry about my single status. I’m perfectly happy with my life as it is.’

Matteo knew better than to think that all women wanted the marriage and babies package. Many lived happy and fulfilling lives with neither partner nor children but something about Emmie’s body language was out of tune with her words. It was like hearing the wrong note in a piece of music, the discordant sound jarring, off-putting. ‘Point taken,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Is there anyone on your books who you think would be interested in the post?’

Emmie gave a snort of laughter. ‘The post? You’re making it sound like a job.’

‘But it is.’

‘It should be a partnership, not a posting.’

‘Under normal circumstances, that may well be true, but nothing about my situation is normal,’ Matteo said, trying to suppress the desire to grind his teeth. ‘I have no desire to marry or have children. My father knew that, and adding that ridiculous codicil to his will was his way of trying to control me beyond the grave.’

‘What sort of person was he? I mean, were you ever close to him?’

‘He was weak.’ Matteo pulled up half a block from the restaurant he’d booked and turned off the engine. He turned to look at Emmie and continued. ‘He allowed my mother to walk all over him, and when she left him he completely fell apart. He gave her everything she asked for in the divorce, way more than she was entitled to, compromising his own finances in the vain hope she would come back. But of course, she never did. If anything, his pathetic attempt to please her probably drove her further away.’

‘Okay, so I get the aversion to marriage thing, but what about kids? Why have you never wanted them?’

Matteo unclipped his seat belt and picked up his phone from the console below the dashboard. He had wanted one child—his tiny son—and yet he had been taken away from him. Poor little Gabriel had not even taken a breath before his life had been cut short. ‘We’d better claim our table. It was a late booking, and if we don’t show up on time they might give it to someone else.’

It was a paltry excuse for terminating a conversation but he was done with talking about marriage and kids. His wife’s and child’s deaths were not common knowledge, given they had happened in Italy and not in England, and he wanted to keep it that way. He was an intensely private person, and besides, he hated talking about his failure. He had failed to protect those who’d needed his protection the most. He had failed to love them as they’d deserved to be loved. He had failed as a husband and father and he was not comfortable with the prospect of becoming either again.

But, with his father’s will written the way it was, he had no choice. It was marry and produce an heir or lose everything, including the sacred ground on which his wife and tiny son were buried.

A few minutes later Emmie sat opposite Matteo in one of London’s top restaurants. Nothing but the best for Matteo Vitale, she mused. But she didn’t think he’d chosen this particular restaurant to impress her. He didn’t seem the type of man to resort to such tactics but rather a man who enjoyed good food and wine and pleasant surroundings and didn’t mind paying well for it.

‘Would you like wine?’ he asked, looking at her over the top of the drinks menu, his glasses perched on his nose.

‘I’m not a big drinker,’ Emmie said. ‘But you go ahead.’ Ever since her cancer diagnosis, she had avoided anything that might trigger a relapse. She ate as cleanly as possible, tried to keep her stress levels down, exercised gently but regularly and avoided using chemicals or known carcinogens. She knew it was obsessive at times, but the thought of going through another cancer battle was so terrifying, she was prepared to do whatever she could to avoid facing it all again. She had already caused her family so much stress and heartache by becoming ill in the first place. If she didn’t take care of herself to the best of her ability now, she might end up inflicting even more pain on those she loved.

Matteo put the drinks menu down, a wry twist on his mouth. ‘I suppose it helps to get your clients drinking so you can draw out their secrets, si? In vino veritas.’

‘In wine lies the truth.’ Emmie gave an answering smile. ‘Sometimes it helps but I rely on other tactics.’

‘Such as?’

She held his penetrating gaze, her heart giving a pony kick against her breast bone. He had such beautiful eyes, she could so easily drown in their bottomless depths. Mysterious, with shifting shadows that intrigued and fascinated her in equal measure. ‘I can tell a lot about people by how they move their bodies, what amount of eye contact they’re comfortable with, whether they smile a lot or rarely, whether they talk more than they listen—all sorts of stuff.’

‘And what is your assessment of me so far?’

‘You’re not the easiest person to read but I think you’re unhappy.’

He gave a bark of humourless laughter. ‘I’ve not long buried my father, so that’s hardly a surprising observation.’

‘Maybe, but you said you weren’t close to him.’

Something flickered through his gaze like a breath of wind across the surface of a deep mountain tarn. His mouth tightened just a fraction and a tiny muscle pulled tighter in the lower quadrant of his lean jaw. ‘I’m not happy with how his will is written, that’s all.’

‘Did you love him?’

He flattened his lips and moved them from side to side, as if deciding whether to respond. After a moment, he let out a short breath. ‘I loved him but I didn’t respect him for some of the choices he made with his life. He refused to move on from the divorce. To my knowledge, he never had a relationship with another woman. He neglected his duty as a father and as an employer. He allowed the family estate to fall into ruin. It took millions of euros to restore it to what it is today.’

‘Your money?’ Emmie guessed.

Matteo heaved out another sigh. ‘I was happy to pay for everything. If only it would have made him take back control of his life, but no, it was as if he wanted to hurry up his death.’

‘What did he die of?’

‘Cancer.’

Emmie suppressed a shudder. The C word, even after all these years, still triggered her. Memories rushed into her mind of the follow-up appointment a biopsy of her lymph nodes. The doctor’s blunt way of delivering the news, her parents’ shock and her own fear at what lay ahead. The gruelling chemo regime that had worked for a time, sending her into remission, only for the cancer to flare up again. And again. And again. Months and months of her life locked away in hospital, unable to see her friends in case of infection. Unable to live a normal life for so long, she’d felt like a pariah when she’d finally been released from hospital.

She’d been out of step with her peers. They had all moved on, had finished their education while she had been having toxic chemicals infused through her veins to try and beat the cancer. The shadow of cancer followed her to this day. There was no certainty it wouldn’t reoccur. In fact, there was an increased risk she could acquire other cancers as a result of having had Hodgkin’s.

And then she had received the most devastating news of all. The high price of saving her life was she would never give life to a baby of her own.

Emmie pushed her gaze up to meet his, hoping he couldn’t see any of her inner turmoil. ‘What type of cancer?’

‘Lung. He smoked even though his doctors were at him for years to give it up.’ Matteo’s mouth twisted again. ‘I know it’s an addiction, and a hard one to overcome but there’s so much help available these days. He just didn’t want to try.’

‘It must have been so frustrating for you, watching him slowly kill himself.’

Matteo picked up the food menu. ‘Let’s talk about something else. What do you like to eat? The seafood is excellent here.’

Emmie busied herself with studying the menu, but she was just as busy covertly studying him. Like a lot of people, he changed the subject when things got uncomfortable. Clearly talking about his father frustrated and upset him. Watching a parent slowly destroy themselves would have been incredibly painful to watch, and would have made him feel out of control.

She had watched her sister Natalie do much the same thing as his father had, denying her body the food it craved to sustain life, becoming so ill she’d had to be hospitalised time and time again. Emmie had watched on in despair, feeling out of control, unable to help, feeling powerless and useless, and also feeling partly to blame for her sister’s illness. Her battle with cancer had consumed her parents’ time and energy and then, with their divorce, poor Natty had been pushed to one side, almost becoming invisible as the doctors had fought to save Emmie and her parents and their lawyers had fought over assets and custody arrangements.

Emmie was starting to realise how much control was also incredibly important to Matteo Vitale. It was deeply rooted in his character. That was why the sudden change to his father’s will would have been so terribly shocking. He hadn’t been expecting such a thing to occur, especially a condition attached that involved him doing something he clearly had no desire to do—marry and have a child. Lots of men of his age were not ready to settle down but when the right woman came along were more than happy to do so. And Emmie’s job was to find the right one for him. But how hard was that going to be when he was not looking for love and all of her clients were?

The waiter approached to take their order, and a short time later Emmie sat back with her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. ‘So, tell me what you do in your free time.’

Matteo gave a slanted smile, as if the concept of free time was amusing. ‘I work.’

‘But surely you relax sometimes?’

He gave a one-shoulder shrug and picked up his glass of white wine. ‘The work I do is very time consuming. I often have a lot of cases on at once, many of which involve the preparation of court documents. I pride myself on making sure I uncover where any discrepancy or fraudulent behaviour has occurred.’

‘It sounds very intense.’

‘It is.’

Emmie took a sip of her juice and put it back on the table, flicking him a glance. ‘Tell me about your family’s estate in Umbria. Why is it so important to you? Apart from the money you’ve spent on it, I mean.’

There was a slight pause, as if he was carefully rehearsing his answer. A screen came down in his gaze and he put his wine glass down with almost exaggerated precision. ‘Generations of my family have lived and worked there. I owe it to them to keep it going for generations to come.’

But how would those generations come about if Matteo was so against settling down and having a family? It didn’t make sense. If Matteo loved the place so much and wanted it to continue being in the family, surely, he would have considered marrying and producing an heir without having to be forced to do so?

‘Presumably that was your father’s plan, then, to ensure there was a generation after you. I mean, given you were so against marrying and having a family,’ Emmie pointed out.

Matteo frowned so heavily the pleat between his eyebrows could have held a pencil. His hand tensed where it was resting on the table, the fingers opening and closing repeatedly. ‘My father could have left it to one of my cousins but he added another condition—if I don’t fulfil the terms of his will, the estate can only be sold to someone not connected in any way to the Vitale family.’ His hand clenched into a tight fist. ‘It was his way of ensuring I did what he wanted. He knew I would never allow it to be sold to a stranger. Someone who might turn it into a hotel or something.’

Emmie chewed her lip, wondering why his father had felt he had to go to such lengths to get Matteo to do as he wished. But she knew all about difficult fathers and the lengths they went to in order to get their way. ‘Manipulation is a cruel tactic some parents use to get what they want.’

‘That sounds like the voice of experience.’ His gentle tone was disarming, so too his unwavering gaze.

She gave a rueful twist of a smile. ‘My parents divorced when I was in my late teens. My dad was like a spoilt child who couldn’t get his way.’ She sighed and added, ‘It made a bad situation so much worse.’ Emmie was a little shocked she had disclosed to him—a client—such personal information about herself. She normally kept her own issues out of the conversation with clients. Her mission was to get to know him, not have him get to know her.

‘Is that why you’re not interested in finding love yourself? Only for your clients?’

Emmie tore a small piece off the fresh bread roll on her side plate and dipped it in the olive oil and balsamic vinegar in a tiny dish on the table. ‘I’m not cynical about love. I believe in it and love to see it happen between my clients and friends. But I’m not sure I’d make a great partner myself. I’m too much of a workaholic.’ She popped the morsel of bread in her mouth and chewed and swallowed.

‘Why are you so driven?’

Emmie gave a light laugh. ‘Interesting question from someone who claims he doesn’t know how to relax.’

‘Takes one to know one.’ His lazy smile made something in her stomach swoop.

She lowered her gaze from his, her cheeks suddenly warm enough to toast the rest of the bread roll on her plate. After a moment, she looked up to find him watching her with an inscrutable expression. Her breath caught, her heart tripped and her stomach nosedived again. She hastily pulled herself back into line. She was acting like a fool, getting all het up over being in his company. She’d had dinner with loads of clients and had never felt so undone before. Her job was to find out everything she could about him so she could find him a suitable partner. ‘Where do you live in Italy? At your family estate or somewhere else?’

‘I have apartments in Rome and Milan but I spend most of my time at the estate.’

‘Is that where your father lived too?’

‘No. He lived in an apartment in Florence to be closer to health services, but retained ownership of the estate.’ A ripple of tension travelled across his features. ‘He always assured me it would pass to me. I had no reason to doubt him.’

‘Did you think of challenging the will? I mean, was he in sound mind when he made the change to it? Maybe if you could prove he wasn’t, then you’d have a chance of—’

‘I’ve wasted enough time already trying to challenge it,’ Matteo said. ‘It’s iron-clad and I have no choice but to do as it states. He might have been dying of cancer, but he was in full control of his mind right up to the last. All of his doctors confirmed it.’

Emmie wondered how far the apple had fallen from the tree. The stubborn determination of his father to achieve his goal beyond the grave was reflected in Matteo’s grim determination to do whatever he could to secure the estate—even something he clearly didn’t want to do. ‘Would you be open to having me visit you at the estate at some point?’

‘Is that what you would normally do? Travel abroad to visit a client’s family home?’

‘Sometimes. It depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On whether I think it will help me to get to know a client better,’ Emmie said. ‘Would you be agreeable? I know you’re a busy man and all, and it’s terribly short notice, but you’re in a hurry to find a wife and I want to make sure I give you the top-level service you’re paying for.’

‘How long would you want to stay?’ There was a guardedness about his tone that made her wonder if she had overstepped the mark. But she felt compelled to see him at his estate. It was the reason he was so intent on finding a wife to fulfil the terms of his father’s will. She refused to acknowledge she had any other reason for wanting to spend more time in his company.

‘Two or three days should be enough.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Emmie smiled. ‘Great. I’ll get my secretary to clear my diary once you let me know which days suit you. But in the meantime, I’ll go through the list of clients on my books to see if there is someone who might suit your requirements.’ But, right at that moment, she couldn’t think of a single one. Which one of her clients would agree to his unusual request?

Matteo continued to hold her gaze for a beat or two but then his eyes drifted to her mouth for a heart-stopping moment. He blinked and then lifted his eyes back to hers, his expression cast in a deep frown. ‘You’re not worried about spending time alone with a man you’ve only just met?’

Emmie was worried but not for the reasons he probably thought. It wasn’t him she was afraid of—it was herself. She was drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain. He was like a wounded wolf that was hiding its pain in order to survive. How close would he allow her to get to him? How close did she dare get to him? She gave him an arch look. ‘Should I be worried?’

His eyes dipped to her mouth for a brief moment before meshing again with hers. ‘Not at all.’

Once their meal was over, Matteo walked Emmie back to his car. He was still mulling over her request to visit him at his family estate. It seemed an odd request and yet he had decided against refusing. He was intrigued by her approach to finding him a wife. He was intrigued by her, full-stop. There was something about her that drew her to him in a way few people did. He was a loner, and preferred his own company, and yet he found her company...interesting. Interesting company, but not exactly relaxing, given her propensity to ask questions he would prefer not to answer. But she was only doing her job—the job he was paying her handsomely to do.

Matteo opened the passenger door and Emmie brushed past him to get into the car. He had to drag his eyes away from the slim length of her legs and he had to ignore the delicate waft of her perfume dancing past his nostrils. He had to ignore the quickening of his blood as she flicked her trench coat out of the way of the door and smiled up at him.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

He walked round the front of the car, got behind the wheel and started the engine, pulling down his seat belt and finding her looking at him with a small frown on her face. ‘What’s wrong?’

Her frown smoothed away and she gave a quick on-off smile. ‘Nothing. I was just wondering if we could do a detour before you take me home.’

‘Where to?’

‘Do you stay in hotels when you come to London or do you have an apartment here?’

‘I have a house. I travel back and forth a lot—I have an office here in London.’

‘Can I see it? Your house, I mean. I’ll save your office for another time.’

Matteo put the car in gear and frowned. ‘Does all this research you do actually work?’

‘If you don’t want to take me to your home, then don’t.’

That was the whole trouble right there in a big, fat crinkly nutshell. He wanted to take her home and see if that rosy pink mouth felt as soft as it looked beneath the pressure of his. He gave himself a mental shake. Emmie was off the market—or so she’d said. ‘Fine. I’ll take you to see my house but I can’t see what the point is. It’s just a house I stay in while I work in London.’

‘Yes, but it’s a house, not an apartment, which tells me a lot about you.’

Matteo harrumphed and pulled out into the street. ‘I had no idea I was such an open book.’

‘You’re not,’ Emmie said with another smile. ‘But I like nothing better than a challenge.’

‘Just as well, because finding me a wife in such a short time frame is going to be one hell of a challenge.’

‘You don’t think I can do it?’

Matteo clenched his teeth and his hands. ‘I’m counting on you to do it.’