Of course, that’s not what their marriage vowsactuallymeant—because she also had the pre-nuptial agreement, putting an end date on their marriage, signed and notarised and stuffed into a pocket of her rucksack. Even so, her stomach rose up to butt her tonsils and her pulse went nuts as Dario gripped her left hand and slid the slim gold band on her finger.
The middle-aged female officiant sent them a hopeful smile, and polite applause echoed around the penthouse’s living room. But her hand was still shaking as Dario captured her waist to pull her to him.
The desire darkening his eyes made her breath catch, before he framed her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers while the officiant declared them man and wife.
The firm, possessive kiss sent the familiar shock waves hurtling through her system, as he claimed her as his wife, for the benefit of the guests. Her breath backed up in her lungs, the desire like a geyser, raw and real and utterly addictive, even though this was the first time he’d held her since leaving her in the summer house bed two nights ago, alone.
When she’d woken the next morning, he’d already been dressed in a business suit, busy barking orders to one of his assistants in the house’s living area. She’d felt like an interloper, the only thing that had stopped her from feeling totally ignored, and weirdly bereft, the knowledge he had slept beside her during the night, because she’d seen the indent of his head on the pillow.
She’d barely had a chance to exchange more than pleasantries with him during the trip back to Milan, because he’d been busy fielding calls in Italian on his mobile or talking to one of his business associates over a video link about a US tech deal, the details of which she hadn’t been able to understand. He’d been on his smartphone too, when they’d driven back into the city from the airport, giving her a perfunctory kiss goodbye when the car had dropped her off at her old apartment.
And she hadn’t seen him since. Not until fifteen minutes ago, after she’d been informed by Aldo at breakfast this morning, the marriage had been arranged for today, four days ahead of the original schedule. Aldo had at least been apologetic when she’d barely been able to contain her shock. Especially after she’d asked to speak to Dario and his assistant had explained that would not be possible.
What had happened to the discussion about ‘our new arrangement’ he’d promised her two nights ago? She’d been disturbed at the thought of everything changing between them. But this morning—when a designer had arrived with a cream satin dress, and the beautician and the stylist had been prepping her for a wedding she hadn’t even realised was happening today until a few hours ago—she’d wondered what on earth she had been so concerned about… Because it turned outnothaving that conversation was a whole lot more anxiety inducing.
She had no idea anymore what was going on between them. Did he still want her? Why had he arranged the ceremony four days early without informing her? And what was supposed to happen next? Because even Aldo didn’t seem to know what his boss’s plans were, and all her efforts to contact Dario in the last four hours had gone unanswered.
Aldo had mumbled something about Dario being extremely busy. But when she’d arrived in the penthouse’s lobby to find her groom waiting, looking devastatingly handsome in a dark grey tailored suit, and then been immediately whisked into the ceremony, she’d started to feel not just dismayed and wary, but frankly, pissed off.
If he didn’t want her anymore, all he had to do was say so…instead of giving her the cold shoulder for forty-eight hours and making her feel like an inconvenient accessory again. What had happened to the man who had washed her hair so tenderly, then tucked her into bed as if she were precious two nights ago?
Her fierce reaction now to his kiss—in front of a crowd of people she didn’t know—only humiliated her more. Why couldn’t she control that instant, instinctive response? The way her body melted into his. The way her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The way arousal coursed into her abdomen—and made her sex ache as if he were still lodged inside her. The way her breathing became harsh and ragged—as if she wasn’t already disorientated enough after the whirlwind of events in the past two weeks.
When he ended the kiss, she had to lock her knees to stop her legs from shaking. He clasped her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips, the desire so potent in his eyes she felt as if she’d been branded.
He cupped the back of her neck, to tug her towards him until he could whisper against her earlobe.
‘Complementi, Tallulah. I did not expect you to say the vows in Italian…but you spoke them well.’ His gaze darkened, the approval even more disturbing to her peace of mind than his radio silence over the past forty-eight hours. ‘Tonight, we can enjoy each other again on Capri. But first we must suffer this charade a while longer.’
Capri? Tonight? What?
She jolted back, feeling overwhelmed again and not in a good way. Everything was moving so fast. While she’d agreed to thischarade, as he called it, their relationship had changed since their night together in Sicily. Or at least it had for her. She’d assumed he would be more forthcoming about information. If he considered her his lover now, didn’t she deserve to be treated like one, instead of just the fake bride he’d hired?
‘But…? I thought I would be able to return to Westwick after the wedding…’ she managed, suddenly desperate for a time-out. She needed a chance to get her life back on track after Sicily. Obviously, them sleeping together wasn’t a big deal for him. But it was for her, enough that she’d been agonising in the last few days about whether he still wanted her—and whether she’d got any closer to knowing whether the connection they shared was more than just sex. She needed to get her volatile emotions under control. If they were going to make this a convenient marriage with benefits, she didn’t want to end up getting any more invested than she was already. But the last forty-eight hours had made her feel as if she had stepped aboard a merry-go-round which was accelerating so fast, she mightneverbe able to jump off… And she wanted to get off, at least for a few days, to maintain her sanity, before she gave in to this chemistry again.
Dario was just too intense, too…much…for someone with her lack of sexual experience to handle, when she felt so powerless.
He frowned. ‘You do not wish to return to my bed?’ he asked, so candidly her cheeks ignited.
Her gaze darted around the reception. The guests were keeping a respectable distance, to let the happy couple celebrate their new vows in private. But even so, she was taken aback by the direct question.
‘That’s not what I meant…’ she said, because there was no way she could pretend she didn’t want him, when her clitoris was pounding in time with her throbbing heartbeat, and she was beathing so hard she was practically hyperventilating from a simple stunt kiss.
‘It’s just…no one told me we were going to Capri tonight,’ she said, trying not to give away how unsettled she felt. Because she was already at enough of a disadvantage.
His smile widened as he caressed the burning skin on her cheek. ‘A honeymoon is expected in such circumstances. Is it not?’
A honeymoon?Seriously?
Couldn’t he see how problematic that was now they were intimate? A honeymoon would make this union feel far too much like a real marriage…
‘Yes…b-but…’ she stammered, with no idea what to say. He looked so sure of himself, so unfazed by all of this. She thought she’d sensed some understanding from him that night. Believed he had understood how out of her depth she was after…after they’d… She swallowed, because recalling that night was not a good way to calm her rampaging heart rate.At all.
‘You should have told me that was the plan…’ she said, because suddenly talking about logistics was the only way to control the panic attack she was about to have, at the thought of their not-so-fake honeymoon.
How on earth could she spend days making love to him and remain objective about what their so-called marriage was actually supposed to achieve?
He pressed his finger to her lips then took her hand. ‘Let us discuss this in private.’
