A split second before he was entirely ready, the wide wooden doors opened at the bottom of the aisle to reveal Maria standing in the open doorway and the breath left his lungs in a whoosh.
It was, he told himself later, because he had been expecting her to wear one of the dresses he’d selected in the bridal shop. Not that he was being autocratic and as much of a bastard as to insist that she should have worn one of them. It was just because he hadn’t expected her to wearthatdress.
The one that reminded him of when they’d been younger. The one that had conjured images of a future he’d told himself he’d never have. That made his pulse pound and his heart sore and soar at the same time. The one that made her lookincredible.
Thick, dark, lazily curling hair framed her face and tumbled around her shoulders and down her back. Light touches of make-up left her natural beauty to shine all on its own, wide, large brown eyes locked on him, the plunging V neckline leading his gaze down to where she held a small bouquet of wildflowers, a miniature riot of colours that was both whimsical and fresh.
For a split second he remembered—a sunny afternoon, a feeling so powerful he thought his chest would burst, the gentle touch of fingers and lips, the warmth of sunshine from above and within, the sound of Maria’s laugh and a hope for the impossible.
Then she faltered, ever so slightly, an infinitesimal pause in her stride, enough time for him only to blink and it was gone. Her hesitation, the memory, the past. It was all gone. And now a very different kind of future opened up before them. One that, he told himself,hadto be enough.
Maria’s pulse tripped and she just about managed to smooth it out without notice. She thought Micha might have caught the near wobble, but nothing had shown on his aggressively handsome face. Dark features stood out against the stark white of his dress shirt and bow tie. The light slid against the silk lapels every time Micha breathed and then got lost in the superfine black wool of his tuxedo.
High cheekbones, almost savagely sharp, and shadows beneath his eyes suggested a sleepless night. The clean shave to his jaw made him look both younger and leaner,hungry,powerful. Maria swallowed as she closed the distance between them, her gaze dropping to the sensual lips that had brought her so much pleasure. They opened then, just slightly, barely enough to draw breath, but she felt the rise of a flush on her cheeks, and flicked her gaze up to his where what she saw sent goosebumps scattering across her skin beneath the draping silk from her shoulders to her sleeves.
She watched as his gaze searched her from head to toe. Was he disappointed that she hadn’t picked one of the dresses he had pulled for her? Was he angry that she’d found the one that he’d discarded?
Why was it that she could never tell with him? she cursed mentally. Why was he just so hard for her to read? He’d been so kind to her last night. After she’d finished crying, he’d walked her to the room he’d arranged for her and left her at the doorway. It had been naive, and supremely silly to hope that he might have stayed. Might have…
And he’d been gone before she could even ask about the wedding night. She’d been so intensely focused on putting one foot in front of the other, that if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up like her mother. No. After today, after the marriage, she would find a way to claw back her independence. She had to. For herself and more importantly for her child.
She reached the top of the aisle and felt Micha’s assessing gaze on her, as if he’d noticed a change in her demeanour. As the priest welcomed them, and the congregation, she held her soon-to-be husband’s gaze. Looking, really looking this time. Not shying away or getting distracted by other things.
There were things she knew, the golden flecks in eyes so dark they almost looked black. The small flat mole just beneath his left eye, and the tiny silvery scar through his eyebrow on the right, where the hair didn’t quite grow back as thickly. All these things were familiar, but she wanted more.
He held her gaze through her silent investigation, a raised eyebrow, rueful, challenging and open. As if he was saying,Have at it, lookallyou want.It was a dare, like when they’d been kids, and a strange wave of humour swept over them, pulled at the edges of his mouth, just as it drew on her heart. Her mouth wobbled, trying not to smile. And then it passed, just like the tide, leaving a long stretch of emptiness behind it. The smile fell from her lips and the humour from her heart.
She watched the little curve at the edge of his lip flatten, as a sense of weight, of heaviness settled between them. Seriousness. Something old and something responsible. As if she felt all the years since their childhood pass between them in just a few seconds.
And then she was hit by such an intense wave of longing. Oh, nothing like Paris, nothing as obvious as attraction. But for what they could have had. What it could have been. It could have been something beautiful between them. If he hadn’t left her. If he hadn’t chosen Gio over her, just like every other member of her family. They could have hadthis. And it could have been so wonderful. This time, the wave brought sadness and loss. An older grief, just as known, just as familiar, a sadness she’d never quite got over.
As the faint smell of incense and candle wax mixed with the wildflowers from her bouquet, and the priest pressed on with readings as familiar to her as the names of her family members, she saw it in his gaze too. The hurt, the anger, the sadness. Theloss.
His naked emotions shocked her, but not enough to override the rising anger. He looked at her as if it wereherfault. As ifshe’ddone this to them. But she hadn’t.Hewas the one who had left.Hewas the one who had disappeared off the face of the planet, so that she’d been alone with no one to count on but herself.
‘Do you have the rings?’
The priest’s question jerked her out of her thoughts, severing the strange, hypnotic moment that had locked them together, excluding everyone around them.
She turned to look at where Ivy and Antonio sat in the front pew—her stony-faced parents on the other side of the aisle. Everyone was either grim faced or fascinated, as if waiting to see if she would really go through with it.
Her gaze returned to Micha, who reached into his pocket and retrieved a small black velvet box without missing a beat. As if they hadn’t just shared…something.
She just about stopped herself from pressing her hand to her stomach, to their child, to reassure them both that this was the right thing to do, that this would give them the protection and security they would desperately need if the Gallos decided to turn against them.
The priest continued with the ceremony, sharing words of commitment, of love, of honour, and she wondered whether she would ever have those things now. He despised her. That’s what she’d seen in the emotions Micha kept locked away. He resented her for this. But it didn’t matter, because she knew that he would love their child with the same fierceness and that was all she needed, she told herself as she repeated after the priest, ‘I do.’
Micha had kept quiet, even for him, throughout the short reception that had followed. Well. The reception was short for him and Maria. By all accounts the Gallos were drinking the bar dry at his considerable expense.
‘Do you not think they’ll notice if we leave so early?’
It was the last thing she’d said to him, which was perhaps not that surprising given his response.
‘Do you think a single one of them will actually care?’
The moment the car had pulled into the gated driveway of his villa, he’d flung the door to the car open and stepped out into the night.Cristo, he needed a drink. He’d not trusted himself or them to have one in front of the Gallos at the reception, and now…? Well, Maria was now a Rufina, he supposed. If she chose to take his name.
The thought pulled him up short, but he dismissed it as a problem for another day. Without waiting to see if she followed him, Micha marched up the stone steps to where the large front door was being held open by his housekeeper.
