These days, Valenti was thankful for having his own space to brood in peace, out of the view of inquisitive palace eyes.
To ponder what the hell was happening to him. Ponder why his every waking thought seemed to circle around Lotte Lillegard. Indeed, to wonder what the very big deal would be if he—
‘You forgot one thing,’ his brother’s voice came from behind him.
Valenti turned, surprise jolting through him when he realised he’d pivoted towards the window again, his focus on the villa’s miniature turret he could just about make out. Was Lotte resting? Was she bored? Angry? Or wearing that sombre and bruised look that punched a hole in his chest whenever he saw it because he was fairly sure he’d been the one to put it there. That his emotion-free choices weren’t reaping the sound outcomes he’d envisaged. That—
‘This is the part where you ask me what.’
Stifling a growl, he ruthlessly stifled a twinge of jealousy and sharpened his focus on his twin. Noted the absence of shadows in his brother’s eyes, replaced by a deep contentment that drew a sharper awareness to the yawning chasms he inhabited. ‘What?’ he echoed less gruffly.
His twin’s happiness was undeniable. And Valenti would honour that if it was the last thing he did. Especially after the suffering his brother had endured.
‘You haven’t given me an update on the stag party to end all parties. You do know it’s only a matter of days, right?’
Biting back another growl, he glanced around, ready to plead out of this social nightmare. Only to discover that they were alone, Sabeen and her assistants having departed while he was preoccupied.
‘If you’re looking for Sabeen to save you, she left to ask Lotte herself if she wanted to be in the bridal party.’ At Valenti’s stiffening, his twin laughed. ‘Yeah, you dropped the ball on that one. And my beautiful wife doesn’t mess around when she wants something.’
‘She’s not your wife yet,’ he pointed out dryly.
‘Oh yes, she is,’ Teo parried with quiet, resounding certainty. ‘She’s already mine in every way that counts. The wedding is just a formality and an excuse for a party. Now about the stag party…’
He was happy for his twin.
And that chasm? It was merely the grounding signpost signalling he needed not to recross lines he’d painstakingly redrawn. Because while he could handle physical landmines all day long, he saw no dishonour in backing away from emotional ones. Even if doing so took every last ounce of willpower he possessed.
Even if doing so felt like he was ripping his own chest out.
If King Azar’s declaration of love to his wife on international TV had earned them most romantic meme of the decade, then Teo Domene and Sabeen El-Maleh’s wedding of the decade deserved its laurels.
Three hours past the fateful, breathtaking event and Lotte was still pinching herself at the fairy tale dream of it all. It’d started with Sabeen arriving at Valenti’s Residence to ask her to be part of her bridal party, an invitation Lotte had been delighted to accept, partly because it’d added to the business of working furiously from morning till mid-afternoon on her charity work, then posting on her social media platforms until late evenings before throwing herself into physical activities like swimming or working out in Valenti’s basement gym. It filled up her time. It exhausted her so she could fall asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
It didn’t stop her dreaming of Valenti, but it was a small mercy.
She blew out a breath now, her damp palm sliding over her thighs then glanced down anxiously to see whether she’d marred the cowl-necked, blush-pink silk dress, with its delicate gold and saffron piping—Sabeen’s beloved late grandmother’s favourite colours. It fitted her like a dream, a testament to Sabeen’s talent. The last thing Lotte wanted was to ruin it.
But her shakiness wouldn’t subside. Glancing around to ensure she was alone, she plucked her phone from the tiny matching crystal-studded clutch, and activated the social media site, her breath catching all over again at the post.
Three-point-seven million likes. And counting.
Her eyes flicked to the photo of herself at last night’s rehearsal dinner. She’d respected Teo and Sabeen’s privacy and hadn’t divulged the occasion or venue.
Breath strangled, her gaze landed on the left corner, and the reason the post had gone viral.
She’d thought she was alone. Apparently not. She’d unwittingly captured Valenti just out of direct shot, his reflection caught in a mirror.
A reflection of him staring at her with unmissable hunger. Lotte had stopped reading the comments when it’d surged into the thousands, but the general tone swung between deep green envy and avid followers thirsting over him and asking if he was her new love.
Her new love.
Her heart lurched wildly each time the phrase reeled through her brain, a recurrence which had gathered serious momentum in the last few hours.
A phrase her heart had accepted as its abiding truth.
Valenti was her new love. Her old love. Her eternal love. She loved him stern or half smiling, broken and guilt-ridden, remote and breathtaking.
‘Lotte.’
