Unwordly Secretary, Gorgeous Boss. Lee Wilkinson
with his father whatsoever. When Fabian had left Tuscany to go to university to study art—he had gone to Rome. His first taste of freedom—it had held an affectionate place in his heart ever since. Now he wanted to show what it had to offer to Laura—the woman who was now his wife. A memory came to him as they strolled together down the narrow bustling side streets that led away from the piazza—a memory of tears glistening in her beautiful eyes when they had been listening to that young tenor singing. He had reached for her hand to comfort her because he’d intuited that the sorrow in her was a deep, far-reaching river and the singer’s voice had merely been a catalyst to opening the floodgates of sadness that dwelled inside. He had not yet asked her properly about the accident or about the husband she had lost. Now that Laura was his wife Fabian felt even less inclined to visit both those subjects—yet he could not avoid doing so for ever. If he felt a little possessive and wanted to shut out the past for both of them so that it wouldn’t intrude on the pleasure of today—he told himself it was only natural. But he really did have a great desire to get to know her better and therefore, some time soon, he would have to find out the details about what happened to her. He fully intended to be the best husband he could be in this marriage. And if there were difficulties ahead, then he honestly believed they could be overcome because already they had a profoundly sensual connection that would go a long way towards healing any rifts.
‘It’s just as I imagined it would be.’
‘It is?’
Catching her hand and knowing a fierce pleasure in keeping it in his—Fabian smiled. In her white peasant-style cotton dress with its puffed sleeves and flared skirt, her blonde hair shining and her extraordinary eyes as excited as a child’s … she was definitely molto bello …
‘Bustling, busy and everywhere you look, something beautiful or fascinating to gaze at!’
‘I cannot argue with that!’ He was looking at his wife, with frank male appreciation, and she stared back at him with an expression that was both shy and surprised.
Then she smiled and hit him playfully on the arm. ‘You know what I mean!’
‘Yes, but we have barely even started our little tour of discovery yet! There are many amazing sights in Roma to see. First of all I want to take you to a coffee bar that does the best espresso in all of Italy! It is mostly only known to locals, but I think you will like it.’
‘Well, seeing as though I’ve become a huge fan of your beloved espresso in the weeks since I’ve been here, lead on!’
In the bustling aroma-filled coffee bar, with its array of monochrome photos of 1940s and ‘50s jazz musicians adorning the walls, functional unfussy wooden tables and sturdy chairs, Fabian chose seats by the window so that Laura could sit and ‘watch the world go by’, as she so charmingly put it.
She was like an excited child today, and her enthusiasm for being in his favourite city gave him a sense of satisfaction and pleasure that took him by surprise. He also had to keep curtailing a sudden great need to touch her and hold her, and the warmth that kept invading his insides whenever his gaze met hers he stubbornly put down to excitement and pleasure—not anything more meaningful. He had been down that road of self-deception before, with Domenica, and she had exposed him for the trusting, naïve, lovestruck idiot he had been—too blinded and besotted to know that his wife was fooling around behind his back.
Swallowing down the bitter memory, Fabian nodded towards the grey-paved square outside, complete with fountain and edged by yellowed crumbling buildings with dusty and in some cases ancient shop signs.
‘This place used to be a flower and fruit market, but now the sellers have dwindled to just two or three. It is now mainly used as a meeting place for locals.’
‘You sound like you know it well?’
‘I discovered it when I was a student here. My friends and I would often meet over an espresso here, or stand in the square and put the world to rights!’
‘And what did you study?’ She leant towards him a little across the table, her glance intensely interested.
Quirking a philosophical eyebrow, Fabian grinned. ‘What else does one study in Rome?’ he asked, teasing. ‘The history of art, of course!’
‘What an amazing resource you had for your re-search!’ Laura sighed. ‘It must have been wonderful!’
‘It was.’
‘And is this where you met your ex-wife, Fabian?
In Rome?’
His chest tightened uncomfortably. ‘No. I met Domenica in Tuscany. Her father was a friend of my father’s.’
‘Domenica? That’s a beautiful name.’
‘She was a beautiful girl … but unfortunately her heart was not so beautiful.’
‘Were you—?’
‘Let us talk about something else. I do not care to dwell on the past today … only on the future.’ His tone was firm.
‘And what about the present?’ Leaning back in the straight-backed chair, Laura was reflective. ‘Time goes by so quickly, and sometimes we don’t realise that moments are passing us by because we’re not paying attention.’
‘You have clearly spent a lot of time thinking about such things, I can tell.’
‘After the accident, when I was in hospital, I had nothing but time to reflect on what life was all about. And here in the west we take so much for granted. It seems to me there’s not much point in being given the gift of life if we never even pause to reflect on what is the meaning and purpose of it.’
‘Well … not everyone is as conscious or as appreciative of the gift we have been given as you, my sweet Laura. Most people behave as though they are going to be here for ever!’
‘Sometimes it takes something momentous like an accident or an illness to wake people up. Don’t you think it would be better if they woke up to their life before that point?’
‘I am beginning to think that I have married a budding psychotherapist!’
‘I’m sorry.’ A crimson tide swept into her cheeks. ‘I tend to get a little carried away when I’m talking about these things.’
‘Do not apologise. Passion and enthusiasm are not things to be ashamed of.’ Reaching for her hand, Fabian stroked his thumb back and forth over her flawless porcelain skin. ‘I like it that you feel things so strongly.’
‘Do you?’ Suddenly still, her steady thoughtful gaze dived deep into his. ‘I thought you believed that feelings aren’t to be trusted?’
An intensely awkward few seconds ensued as Fabian fought hard to keep his treacherous feelings under control. With a self-deprecating grimace, he lifted his coffee cup in the gesture of a toast. ‘You have backed me into a corner, I fear … touché.’
‘Well …’ Her hand shook a little as Laura swept her fingers through her hair, and he saw that she was embarrassed as well as a little upset.
He silently abhorred his inability to make the kind of real connection he secretly craved with her. Then, in the next second, he told himself he would get over it. His reactions were all at sea because for the first time in months he was starting to relax, as he was here in his favourite city with the pretty, vivacious woman who was going to give him the thing that he desired most … a family. He could surely be forgiven if he didn’t feel quite himself?
‘I can’t believe we flew here in a helicopter all the way from Tuscany!’ she finished.
‘I would never make half the meetings I have on time here in Italy without it,’ Fabian replied, grateful that the tricky moment had passed.
‘It’s such a different way of life you lead, compared to my own back in the UK.’
‘And do you think you will grow to like