‘Ican’t. You sent away the assistant,’ she threw at him accusingly.
He glared at her before closing the distance between them in long, powerful strides. She watched him in the reflection of the mirror as he came behind her on the raised dais, gently kicking the wide expanse of the skirts out of the way so that he could get close enough to where the zip was concealed by a row of one hundred satin-covered buttons.
She felt the heat of him across the bare skin of her shoulder blades, inhaled the scent of leather and spice, somethingtempting. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, her body craving his expert touch, aflame with need that whipped up like an unexpected tornado that touched down over them, keeping them in the eye of a storm that had not exhausted itself three months ago.
He stared down at the zip that would set her free. Breath caught in her lungs, pressing her chest deeper against the neckline that was so confining. And for a heartbeat his gaze flickered between her back and her chest in the mirror in front of her and she wanted to… She wanted to…
Surrender.
She was a madness in his blood. How could it be that he had not satiated his desire already? How could it be that even as he fought and railed against what he’d been forced to do—what he’d forced her into, marriage—thatstillhe wanted her? Self-recrimination was powerful, harsh and swift.
He found the tab at the top of the zip and yanked it free, stepping away from the dais before he could do what he really wanted to do. Which was rip the dress from her body and take her like the animal he truly was beneath all outward signs of sophistication.
He gritted his teeth and shoved his fisted hands into his pockets as he focused solely on the dresses around him—anything other than where Maria was navigating her way out of that monstrosity and into a satin dressing gown that did nothing to hide the perfection of her body.
Cazzo.
But damn, it was better than the look in her eyes just before…the glistening of her eyes, the tremble of the lip she’d tried to hide from him. He hated that she did that, kept what she was feeling from him. But he understood it. After all, couldn’t he say the same?
They didn’t trust each other. How could they? But they would need to. If they were going to get through this, they would have to do it together.
‘Why did you let her put you in that thing?’ he asked, genuinely curious and a little surprised that shehadlet the assistant put her in that dress.
There was a moment’s hesitation.
‘She is trying to make me look…slimmer.’
Slimmer? He opened his mouth to object, until he realised what she was saying. She was trying to hide her pregnancy. Their pregnancy.
‘Are you ashamed?’ he asked, spinning round to confront her, struggling with the anger that was so quick to ignite. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow her to be ashamed of their child…ofhim.
He saw the clench of her teeth, the little flutter of the muscle at her jaw, the way her body straightened as if ready to fight,alwaysready to fight.
‘I am not, and never will be, ashamed of my child,’ she said with a blaze of glory that made him both proud and instantly relieved. ‘And I will do everything in my power to protect our child from whatever snide comments and meanness comes their way, from whatever quarter; family, friend or foe. But,’ she said, her shoulders threatening to slump, ‘I would just like to avoid, if possible, any nasty speculation on our wedding day.’
And when she turned her back to him to reach for a glass of water, he remembered how much she’d always dreamed of a huge white wedding, a church full of her friends and family, of the perfect dress. He saw how that in some small way she was trying to keep hold of that fantasy. And he understood that. He knew how mean the Gallos could be. They were like a pack of hyenas when they got it in their minds. But she was one of them. And she had chosen them.
She will always choose them.
Gio’s voice echoed in his mind as he scanned the rails of dresses that lined the walls of the dressing area. A cream silk confection caught his eye and he pulled the sleek-lined dress from the rack. Further down was another—a gently corseted dress with a sweetheart neckline, and one last one that was the complete opposite of either: lace detailed over the lightest gauze, with tiny little sparkling diamonds.
Just behind it, though, was a dress that stopped him in his tracks. The neckline dropped in a sweeping V into a wide belted waist, long draped material fell from slightly puffed shoulder sleeves into cuffs at the wrist and the skirt fell away in a swathe of oyster silk. It was soft, romantic, all the things Maria rejected, but had never managed to fully hide about herself. It was the dress he’d have chosen for her eleven years ago. But they weren’t seventeen. Not any more. And too much had passed between then and now for them to go back.
Instead, he reached for the dress with the sparkling diamonds and placed all three on the back of an empty chair.
‘One of these will do,’ he said, forcing a boredom into his voice he knew she would view as a challenge. Far better for her to be angry than upset.
He checked his watch, trying to ignore the way a delicate blush pinked her cheeks.
‘I have to go. You will be okay?’
‘I was perfectly okay before you got here,’ she growled like an angry kitten and he tried not to smile.
‘You were about to let a woman convince you to wear a dress that made you look like a pornographic milk maid. You werenotokay.’
‘Get out!’
This time he couldn’t hold it back. The laugh fell from his lips like sand slipping through his fingers, unstoppable and horrifyingly easy. It wasn’t mean, there was nothing nasty in it, nothing tainted the air between them and he wasn’t completely sure but he thought he saw her smile, a glitter in her eyes that wasn’t sad, or hurt. But then the laughter quietened, leaving a silence between them that wasn’t hot like it had been in Paris, or hurt like it had been earlier that week. It was something that was too close to what they’d hadbefore.
