Free The Wedding Charade by Melanie Milburne Page A

her he wouldn’t be back in Rome before the wedding and would meet her at the church in Bellagio. ‘I am afraid you will have to do so for I am intending to sleep in my fiancé’s bed,’ she said with a don’t-dare-to-disobey-me air.
    The housekeeper muttered something in Italian before she stalked off, her footsteps clacking with anger across the marble floor.
    Jade let out a breath and walked up the grand staircase, her footsteps muffled as they trod on the priceless stair runner held in place by solid brass bars at the back of each step.
    She found Nic’s room without any trouble. It was just as she had imagined it would be. It was huge, as was the bed, and it was decorated in brown and cream with a touch of black in the lamps and bedside tables, giving it an unmistakably masculine feel. The en suite bathroom was as big as her London flat’s bedroom and it followed the same gold and marble theme of the rest of the villa.
    The shower was refreshing but she couldn’t help thinking of Nic’s naked body standing right where she was standing. Her mind pictured him with the water cascading over him, over his chest and ridged abdomen, down his hair-roughened flanks and over his taut buttocks and the proud male heart of him. Her breath caught in her throat and she quickly turned off the water and reached for one of the big fluffy towels that was as big as a sheet.
    When Jade came back into Nic’s bedroom it was obvious the housekeeper had failed to bring her things through. She drew in an angry breath and stalked out to the landing. ‘Guilia?’ Her voice echoed through the villa. ‘Will you come up here immediately and do as I asked you to do? ‘
    There was no response.
    Jade stormed to the yellow room and, dropping her wet towel on the floor, rummaged through the wardrobe for something to wear. She didn’t bother drying her hair but left it loose to dry naturally. She didn’t bother withmake-up either. She never did if she wasn’t expecting anyone to be around or she wasn’t going out.
    There was no sign of the housekeeper downstairs, although Jade did see a note propped up against the kettle. She looked at it, wondering what the housekeeper had written. The handwriting looked as if it had been done quickly and crossly, but if it was in Italian or English, she couldn’t quite tell. She scrunched it into a ball and left it on the bench.
    She filled in the rest of the evening by sorting some of her paints and sketchbook into a smaller bag to take with her to Bellagio. She had seen enough travel shows to know how picturesque the Italian lakes district was. It was the one part of her honeymoon—such as it was—she was looking forward to.
    After a light supper of chicken and salad she had found in the fridge, she made her way back upstairs to bed. The villa was scarily empty. There was no sound apart from the ticking of an ormolu clock on a French lacquered table on the second landing.
    She slipped out of her jeans and loose-fitting top, her bra and knickers adding to the pile on the floor. The sheets were smooth and cool and fresh and, within seconds of putting her head down on the feather pillows, she felt her eyelids going down as if weighted by anvils.
    Jade stretched out a leg and froze. Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she asked as Nic opened one sleepy eye from right beside her.
    He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Where else would I be?’ he asked. ‘This is my bed.’
    ‘I …I know but you’re not supposed to be here now! ‘ she said, pulling her legs out of the reach of his long, strong hairy ones.
    He sat up in the bed, the sheet that had been covering him slipping to just below his navel. Jade saw the dark masculine hair that arrowed down beneath the sheet and her stomach did a jerky little somersault. He was as naked as she was. She could practically see the outline of his maleness.
    ‘I came back by private jet after I got a call from my