His Rules: Ludlow Nights - Book1 (A Ludlow Nights Romance) (14 page)

"You should have told me," Anastacia said to Nico. She couldn't help but be impressed when her boss moved a sip cup balanced precariously on the edge of the dining table to safer ground, handed baby Eve who was banging a plastic teething ring on her high chair table a slice of banana from her Peppa Pig plate, and whipped the desert spoon that was just about to brain Luca out of Sophia's hand. All without breaking a sweat.

"Sophia,
cara mia
. If you make Luca cry, no mutant ninja turtles." Nico's voice was gentle, but it held a firm promise to follow through. Sophia's big green eyes studied her father's face, saw the love. She wrinkled her cute little nose, eyed her brother who was dozing in his chair, eyed her fork. "Sophia," Nico crooned in a way that made the little girl smile, showcasing dimples. "If you have finished eating, ask mama if you may leave the table."

Sophia's eyes slid to her mother, who was watching her like a hawk.

"Please may I leave the table?" Sophia said, clear as a bell.

"You may," Bronte gave her daughter a grin. "Don't forget to wash your hands."

"Now you are a big girl, you can help me wash my hands." Olivier stood and took Sophia's sticky little fingers in his. Together they strolled out of the room.

"He's great with her," Anastacia muttered. Not willing to admit that seeing how good Olivier had been with the children had given her heart a sincere jolt. The woman who captured his heart would be one lucky girl.

"Sophia likes the boys," Nico admitted. "What was it I should have told you?"

Mind filled with the picture of the tall, dark and handsome Olivier hand in hand with a tiny blonde sprite, for a moment Anastacia lost the thread of their conversation. Then her eyes met Nico's.

"You should have told me Olivier has a financial interest in the Boutique hotels. I made a complete fool of myself."

"How?" asked Nico. With baby wipes, he cleaned the baby's face, her chubby hands, lifted her out of her highchair and into his lap. The picture the handsome Italian made, dressed down in jeans and a simple black T-shirt with his dark haired baby girl on his knee, was so beautiful it brought a lump to her throat.

Anastacia blinked. "How what?"

"How did you make a complete fool of yourself?"

She hunched her shoulders and wished she'd kept her big mouth shut.

"I might have made a couple of remarks about football players not working for a living, or words to that effect."

"Hmm," said Nico and narrowed his eyes as he studied her. "It is unlike you not to give someone a chance."

Her breath hitched because he was quite right.

It wasn't like her.

She bit her lip.

"It's just..."

Just what?

Was she really going to open up the lid of the Pandora's box of her past to her boss?

Nope.

Over Anastacia's head, Bronte sent Nico laughing eyes.

"How did he take it?" Bronte wanted to know.

Anastacia had the grace to blush.

"He was cool about it, you know? He's Italian, what more do I need to say."

Bronte laughed.

"He is a very good man," Nico stared down at Anastacia's bent head, studying the way she was pleating her napkin through nervous fingers. His eyes caught Bronte's. His wife's nod told him she'd received the message.

Nico stood, held out his hand to a heavy-eyed Luca.

"Oli and I will do bath time. Kiss mama and Ana goodnight."

Luca did as he was told.

When it was Anastacia's turn for a kiss, she held him tight, pressed her lips to a hot cheek and simply inhaled the scent of baby soap. With glossy curls the color of coal, his big grey eyes and sleepy good-nature, Luca Ferranti might be three years old, but he was already a heartbreaker.

Bronte stood, gathered up empty plates, cutlery.

"Looks like you and me are the cleaning crew."

Jolted out of her weirdly introspective mood, Anastacia leapt to her feet to help.

The girls worked in a companionable silence as they loaded up the dishwasher, wiped down and polished surfaces. Bronte made a couple of pots of coffee knowing the men would be making demands as soon as they'd finished an extended bedtime ritual. Her babies always got excited when Olivier visited.

"It's a gorgeous evening, why don't we take our coffee out into the garden?"

Anastacia nodded her assent and stepped with Bronte through huge folding doors, over the deck and onto a bowling green lawn. Since there was no wind, the scent of flowers was heavy in the still evening air. The buoyant flower borders of The Dower House were a crammed display of pinks and lilacs, roses and glossy green hostas. Near the bottom of the walled garden there was a comfortable bench made of smooth weathered oak.

Bronte sat, kicked off her flat pumps, wiggled her toes.

Anastacia would have given her eye teeth to be able to wear those fabulous Marc Jacobs leather pumps. She hated the guilt caused by the curl of envy that tickled her gut.

"If I didn't love you to bits, I'd hate you," Anastacia admitted now.

Stunned, her friend gave her big eyes.

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" Bronte demanded to know.

"You're tall. With blonde
straight
hair. Legs I'd kill for. And you can wear flat shoes. You're married to a kind and wonderful man. And you have a beautiful family and a fabulous home. If it wasn't for the fact that you are probably one of the best and nicest people I know, I'd
have
to hate you." Anastacia sipped her coffee, squinted at Bronte over the rim of the mug. "Just sayin’."

For the longest time, Bronte simply stared at her.

Then she shook her head.

"Robert Burns was right about the gift to see ourselves as others see us. Speaking for myself, I don't see the me you see. When I first met Nico I had huge body issues. My breasts or lack of. I didn't think I was pretty enough... And it's not that funny, Ana... For a variety of reasons, I had zero self-esteem. There isn't another man I could ever love as much as I love Nico. He is my world. The greatest blessing for me is that I am secure in knowing that he loves me right back. He puts my needs before all. But there are times when life with Nico isn't all plain sailing. He can be demanding, even controlling at times. And utterly ruthless when it comes to protecting what is his. And that includes me and our children, our home." Bronte frowned into her coffee. "I'm not sure I should be talking to you about this."

Anastacia didn't feel quite comfortable with it herself, but found this rare insight into the Ferranti family dynamic absolutely fascinating.

And a privilege.

"Anything that is said to Ana, stays with Ana."

"I know that. I think what I'm trying to say is that as a couple we work every single day, very hard, to make our marriage, our family, our business, work. And it is
work
, sometimes gruellingly hard work. If we make it look easy it's only because under the surface our legs are paddling like crazy to keep everything afloat." She paused. "Sometimes he makes me so mad I could spit nails."

Anastacia had to laugh.

"Tell me about it. But I can't imagine working for anyone else."

Bronte frowned, bit her lip. "He worries about you, Ana."

Now it was Anastacia's turn to look bewildered.

"Me? Jeez, Bronte, I'm fine. I have my own place, a job I love. What more could I possibly want?"

"Maybe love? Affection? Intimacy? A shoulder to lean on? Someone to share the burden?"

After drawn-out silence, Anastacia shook her head, gazed up at The Dower House highlighted beautifully in glorious gold by the setting sun.

"I'm not looking for all that. Not yet. Maybe not at all. Anyway, I'm too young to worry about it."

Silence.

"Olivier has both eyes set right on you," said Bronte.

Anastacia knew the observation was nothing less than God's honest truth.

All through dinner Olivier's eyes hadn't left her for a second.

"I know. It's a little unnerving. He doesn't hang around. He just wants to get into my panties."

At Bronte's heartfelt laugh, Anastacia had to grin.

"Talking of panties, the first night I went out with Nico he was just the same. God, it was soooooo embarrassing."

Sensing a story, she tucked her legs under her and turned to face a pink-cheeked Bronte.

"Don't leave me hanging. What happened?"

Bronte shook her head. "First date. I didn't know what to wear. And Rosie just had to have an opinion - you know what she's like? Anyway, we were in my bedroom. And I tried on an impulse buy, a black silk slinky backless dress. But it showed every panty line, even a string bikini. So Rosie said,
Don't wear panties, the dress is lined, who's to know?
" Bronte buried her hot face in her hands and groaned at the memory. Ana reached over to grab her hair, gave it a tug. Rolling her eyes Bronte nodded and continued, "There was a big wedding reception being held at The Hall. And I was invited to the evening event and Nico was going to meet me there, we'd have dinner. I thought there'd be safety in numbers. So there I was dancing over strobe lights with a guy who was so drunk he couldn't see straight. I'd no idea that under the lights the dress became see through. Nico grabbed me, plastered me against him." She gave a little sigh. "It was wonderful. But when he took me home, we fought in the car right outside this house. I was upset. He was furious. I dropped my keys. He picked them up, opened the door and pushed me through. The next thing I know my back's against the door. My skirt is at my waist. His mouth is on mine. His hands are everywhere." Grinning at Ana's slack jaw. "And yes, no panties. He scared me so bad I put a screeching halt on what was happening. So then he's asking me why I'm not wearing panties. I said,
Pantyline
. He found that hilarious. And so our love was born."

Anastacia released a long breath, part envy, part longing.

And of course, her friend picked up on her mood.

"What's up?"

"I'm thinking about an Italian footballer who's thinking about me. I don't want him to think about me the way he's thinking about me. I think I'm thinking about him because he's not only gorgeous, he's also kind to little kids, a good listener and not as dumb as a turnip. But he's a footballer, Bronte."

She stopped, dropped her head in her hands and groaned.

Anastacia raised her head and met Bronte's eye. "A
footballer
."

"Olivier is most certainly a footballer. What I can't understand is why that would be a problem for you."

"He's too much. A world cup star. The Italian player of the year. And he's so in tune with his feelings, scarily so. He freaked me out the way he just held my hand and told me he wants me."

"The bastard."

"He didn't call me for two weeks."

"Again, the bastard."

"No, he isn't. He had to absolutely focus on the European Cup final. I totally get that."

"Of course you do. Two peas. Pod."

Anastacia's brow creased.

"Do you really see me as focused on my goals like Olivier?"

"Yep. You run with an issue, you see a way to make it happen, you aim, you score. Never miss."

Now Anastacia realized that she'd never really thought about the similarities between her and Olivier, only the differences.

"Is it the man or is it what the man does that's spooked you?" Bronte wanted to know.

"Both. I think."

"I adore Olivier. Nico adores Olivier. Just sayin’."

"Millions, and I do mean millions, of women adore Olivier, too. Did you know he has millions of twitter followers?"

"Ah, now I see it. You're worried about the competition?"

"I'm worried about making a complete fool of myself."

Bronte tipped her head to look Anastacia in the eye.

"You've lost me."

Anastacia rolled her eyes to heaven.

"Jeez, Bronte. I'm hardly his type, am I?"

"Ah, we're back to the fact you're a stunningly beautiful angel with hair and skin to die for? That you're smart, ambitious and successful? And a loyal and wonderful friend to boot. I agree. I've no idea what he could possibly see in you."

Anastacia glowered at her shoes, feeling a fool.

"You're saying I'm being an idiot."

"Told you, you were smart."

Silence.

"He makes my belly sort of shiver. I don't want the shivers. Shivers lead to other things."

"You like him. Maybe even more than like him. New territory for you. Why don't you explore it, see where it leads?"

"You're telling me to chill out and stop worrying?"

"Something like that. But first you need to admit you have strong feelings for him."