Sincerely, Your Inconvenient Wife: Chapter 7

FOR THE FIRST TIME in weeks, I was alone in my home. Vincent had flown back to Italy, taking all his chaos with him.

I’d spent my evening in the blessed quiet, eating a meal I’d cooked without anyone talking over my shoulder and drinking the scotch I’d hidden from him so he didn’t pour it over one of the women he’d paraded through here.

That wasn’t paranoia either. A year ago, he’d cracked open the bottle of Macallan I’d been saving for a special occasion and drank it off the body of a woman he’d met that evening. Most of it had ended up soaking into my guest bedroom mattress, and I’d nearly wept at the waste.

I also hadn’t allowed him back into my condo for a year. The only reason I had this time was because of my father’s heart attack. Vin had provided a much-needed distraction from the worry.

Now I was settled in my den, a heavy pour of Macallan in my glass, my laptop on my lap, devouring the employment file of one Ms. Saoirse Kelly.

She had letters of recommendation from her past ten employers, and they were all glowing. I’d come to the reluctant conclusion none of what she’d told me the night she was here had been a lie. My fucking ears had just heard her name wrong. If I’d heard Saoirse, I would have asked questions because there weren’t that many six-foot-tall blondes named Saoirse walking around Denver, and I’d been well aware of Elise’s best friend since I’d been hearing about her for years.

But how had she not known who I was?

My need for answers beat out my common sense. I logged into my company email to fire off a message to her.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Saoirse,

Did you know who I was?

-Luca

It took less than fifteen minutes for her to reply.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Luca,

Well, hello to you, sir.

No, I didn’t know who you were. You told me your name was Luke (which I now realize you meant Luc, but I didn’t know at the time), and I had no reason to suspect you were anyone I should have known.

If we can put our first meeting behind us, that would be great. We share the same friends, and I’m working for your company for at least the next month, so it would be easier to act like it didn’t happen, don’t you agree?

Sincerely,

Your Inconvenient Hookup, Saoirse-not-Sasha

Falling back against the cushions, I read and reread her response. She was just as sassy through emails as she was in person.

And she was right. Hooking up again was out of the question. Not just because we were both deeply enmeshed in the same circle of friends, but because I wasn’t fucking allowed to hook up anymore.

I was playing the straight and narrow now.

Yet, despite all those reasons, I found myself emailing her back.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Saoirse,

I apologize for getting your name wrong. If you’ll remember, you were taking a sip of wine when you told it to me. Also, it’s not a name I hear often or ever, so forgive my mistake. It won’t happen again.

I agree, we should put it behind us, but I won’t be able to forget it. When I move my lips the right way, I still have some sugar on my tongue. Then there’s the evidence bag…

Here’s wishing you another pleasant week working at Rossi Motors.

-Luca, your boss

Monday morning, I strode across the lobby of Rossi, nodding to the guards at the security desk. I was late due to an early morning video conference I’d taken from my home office, so the elevator bank was deserted except for one lone woman.

Of course.

Saoirse Kelly was juggling two trays of coffee and a large paper bag as she looked up at the illuminated numbers above the elevators. Her long legs—made longer by her high heels—were crossed at the ankle, propping her delicate hip to the side. Her hair spilled down her back in soft waves. Standing still, she gave off the impression of a fifties movie star. She had a Grace Kelly way about her.

Until she opened her mouth.

“Do you need help with those?”

She swiveled around, her rosy lips popping open when her eyes landed on me. Her surprise didn’t last long, though.

“Thank you, I really do.” She held out one of the trays.

Raising a brow, I took it from her. “They have you fetching coffee?”

“The machine broke. Add on that it’s a Monday and half the team is on a tight deadline, and it’s an actual disaster. I volunteered just to get away from the uncaffeinated grumpiness.”

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped in behind her. She hit the button to her floor and her hand hovered over the panel.

“There’s no button for the executive floor.”

“No.” I pointed to the sensor above the numbers. ”I have to swipe my card, but I usually just take the executive elevator.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Sounds cushy. You don’t have to ride with the plebes.”

“There are some perks to the job.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Thanks for emailing me, by the way.”

“I noticed you didn’t reply to the last one.”

Her nose scrunched. “Well, it was kind of inappropriate, coming from my boss.”

For the first time today, I chuckled. “The whole boss thing is still settling in. I’ll work on it.”

“I still can’t believe you’re Luca, Luca.”

“I’m finding it hard to believe you’re not Sasha.”

The doors slid open on her floor. I hesitated to follow her out, and she twisted around, her head canted.

“Aren’t you coming, or are you stealing my coffee?”

“I’m coming.” I stepped out, the door closing behind me. “I haven’t been on this floor…I don’t know. Maybe ever.”

“Really? Haven’t you worked here a long time?”

“Since I graduated college. I stay up top.”

“Weston regularly visits every level of his building, according to Elise.”

“I’m not Weston.” And I didn’t like being compared to him by Saoirse.

“No, you’re not. From what I’ve heard and experienced once, you’re ten times less grumpy than him. Though you’re not exactly proving that right now.”

Impatient for this conversation to be over, I jerked my chin. “Fine. Lead the way.”

The smile she rewarded me with was wide and gleaming, lighting her up to the tips of her toes. “All right, boss. Let’s go.”

My sister was waiting in my office when I arrived, working on her laptop at my desk.

“Get out.” I said this with no heat or energy.

Clara looked up from her computer for a flicker, then her eyes returned to her monitor. “You’re incredibly late, Luca. You told me you were leaving home ninety minutes ago.”

“I did. I’ve spent the last hour in marketing.”

Her attention shot to me again. “What? Why?”

I smoothed my hand over my tie and plopped down in the leather and chrome chairs in front of my desk. “I’m taking a page out of Weston’s book.”

“Weston Aldrich runs a very different company than we do.” She rubbed her lips together, her eyes narrowed. “Still, it can’t hurt to give our employees face time, especially since you’ve been an absent executive all these years.”

“I thought so too.”

I propped my ankle on my knee and regarded my sister. At thirty-four, Clara was three years older than me and all business. She was the golden child of the family, serious and committed to Rossi Motors basically since birth.

She looked good behind the CEO’s desk. A natural. But the mantle hadn’t fallen to her. Clara was Rossi’s COO and a damn fine one. If she’d been eyeing the job I now had, she’d never said. It was always understood it would go to me when the time came, but I didn’t think any of us predicted the time would come so soon.

“What are you doing in my office?” I asked.

“Waiting for you, obviously.” She clicked her laptop shut and circled the desk. It still unsettled me to see her protruding belly. Four and a half months along with my future niece, Clara acted like nothing had changed, except her normally efficient, waifish figure now had an ever-growing bump in the front. “I read over the consultants’ report.”

“So, you wasted your time reading bullshit?”

“They have a point, Luca. There’s no denying married CEOs are seen as more trustworthy than single ones.”

“Again, it’s utter bullshit.” My fingers sliced through the side of my hair, giving it a hard tug. “How many of Mom and Dad’s friends regularly cheat on their wives? I would say most if not all.”

“Be that as it may, it’s about perception.” She pushed her dark-rimmed glasses on top of her head, leveling me with her version of sympathy. “I’m going to send you a list of acceptable women you should get to know. This doesn’t have to be painful.”

“Says the woman who chose her own husband.”

Miller Fairfield was a good-on-paper husband, which meant my parents wholeheartedly approved of him. So much, he’d recently been promoted to Rossi’s CFO. Personally, I thought he had the personality of paper, and I’d never once seen him look at Clara the way our father looked at our mother: like she was a treasure, and he knew it. But he’d been around for a decade now, so I’d accepted he was a permanent fixture in the family. Fortunately for me, he was easy to disregard when I didn’t have to deal with him directly.

Lately, though, he’d taken to giving me daily updates on a mom-and-pop business blog that, according to Miller, had a hard-on for reporting Rossi’s missteps. The new habit was fucking annoying, but as long as I nodded and grunted when he did, he left me alone once he was done ranting.

I imagined Clara never heard the end of it. Then again, she could handle herself and her business, so maybe she shut him down easier than I did.

“I chose a husband who would benefit this family and our company, Luca. I didn’t go out cavorting, getting my picture taken snorting cocaine off random whores’ breasts in nightclubs.”

I held my hands up. “That has never happened. Is that what you imagine I do?”

She groaned under her breath. “Whether you’ve done it or not, it’s perception. You often do get photographed stumbling out of nightclubs with different women on your arm. The public—our shareholders—fill in the blanks on what you’re doing inside those clubs.”

Before I could launch my rebuttal, Clara yelped, her hands flying to her belly. I scooted to the edge of my chair in alarm.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, her mouth tight. “The baby’s swimming. She must like your voice.”

In an instant, I was on my knees in front of her. She took my hand, guiding it to the side of her belly. My niece instantly let her presence be known, fluttering against my palm with all her might.

“That’s crazy,” I uttered.

“I know,” she whispered. “Sometimes she gets hiccups, and it blows my mind to think there’s a tiny person inside me hiccuping.”

I met my sister’s soft gaze. “You really think she likes my voice?”

“She might. She got lively while we were talking.”

Leaning closer, I had a chat with my niece. “Hi, bella. It’s Uncle Luca. I’m fucking dying to meet you.”

Clara kicked me in the knee. “Don’t curse at the baby.”

“Shit.” I winced when she kicked me again. “Sorry, bambina. Uncle Luca’s going to work on that before you’re born. We’re going to have so much fun. Your mom and dad are nice, and they’re going to love you like mad, but I’ll be the one to teach you all the wild things they won’t let you do. It’ll be our little secret. You and me, kid.”

Clara shoved my forehead, knocking me back on my knees. “You will not corrupt my daughter.”

I held up my thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a little?”

She bit down on her bottom lip to hold back her grin. “No, Luca. By the time she’s here, you’ll be reformed anyway.”

“I agree to clean up my image, but you’ll never force me to be Miller.”

She rolled her eyes. “No one wants you to be Miller. Be yourself, just…a quieter version with a beautiful, respectable wife on your arm. Is that so awful?”

“It wouldn’t be if it were my decision.”

She patted my shoulder. “I get it, but we all have to make sacrifices. Besides, this could be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

When she finally left, with a reminder to look over the list of acceptable women she was going to send me, I sank down in my chair and rubbed my right eyebrow.

This was part of my job, and the pressure was on me to excel at it. Not just from board members and shareholders but from the greater Rossi family, most of whom made their living from the company.

There was nothing like knowing almost my entire extended family’s wealth depended on the job I did in a position I did not want.

Want it or not, it was mine.

An email came in from Clara. Her list. The idea of shopping for a wife in this manner turned my stomach. My sister was one of my closest friends, but we were vastly different people. There was absolutely no way any of the women she deemed acceptable would interest me.

I opened her email anyway.

Sometimes sacrifices had to be made.