Ann-Sophie ignored the sting of this comment. “Of course.”
“You’re not asking for love?”
She hesitated. Neither of them knew what the future held. A week ago, she hadn’t expected this moment. But right now.Everything was possible.
“I don’t expect love,” she said carefully.
He met her gaze again, studying her, and for a moment it felt as if the wall between them fell away. He found her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “Ann-Sophie, will you marry me?”
For once in her life, she allowed herself towant.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I will marry you.”
The next week flew by in a flurry of plans and paperwork. The wedding would take place in two weeks, a little after the baby hit the eight-month mark, giving them a little space before the delivery date. It would be a small affair in the village church, and the only invitees would be Massimo and Catarina, who had insisted on coming, and Ann-Sophie’s mother, if she could make it.
Ann-Sophie looked thoughtful when he suggested it. “But I think she’s away on assignment.”
“I’m sure she’ll come back for your wedding.”
“But it’s such a small thing and the baby is almost here. Maybe I should ask her to come for the birth instead.”
Alessandro found that he didn’t like the way that she so readily made excuses for why her mother didn’t need to be there, but he said nothing.
“If I’m telling my mother, then you should let your parents know, too.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Or maybe you don’t want to invite your parents?”
“It doesn’t matter either way,” he said darkly. “They won’t come. But I’ll have Massimo pass on the message.”
There were documents to prepare and a prenup to sign, one that specified dual residences in Stockholm and Italy. It made generous provisions for her and the baby under a single condition.
“‘As long as the baby is biologically yours?’” she said, reading aloud. Then she looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t even know where to begin with this line.”
This topic was infinitely frustrating, and Alessandro felt the control inside him start to crack. “You would not perform a DNA test. You’re leaving me with no choice.”
“Interesting definition of ‘no choice,’” she said, rolling her eyes.
The fissure lines inside him spread ominously.
“Why are you choosing to dig in your heels about this issue?” he demanded.
Ann-Sophie glanced at the lawyer, standing at the edge of the desk and pretending not to listen, like he was paid to do.
“Because it means you still don’t trust me,” she said softly.
Alessandro swiped a hand over his face, exasperated. “You’re making this more complicated than it has to be. If the baby is mine, then we have no problem.”
“I don’t think this is complicated at all. Either you trust the woman that you are about to marry or you do not.”
The fissure lines inside threatened to break. He had kept his emotions perfectly under control over the last week. She had moved into his bedroom, and they spent their days together, making love at all hours. Everything about this was exactly as it should be. But she wanted more.
“Trust is not easy for me, even under less pressing circumstances,” he said, his jaw tight. “I need this from you.”
“Fine,” she said, turning away, and her voice was cold and distant. “I’ll sign it.”
He stared at her, waiting for the familiar satisfaction in this win. He had softened Ann-Sophie by giving her pleasure and the emotional vulnerability that was driving him to the brink of his sanity, and he was now reaping the rewards. His plan was an irrefutable success, and he searched for the familiar rush that success always brought. It didn’t come.
All he could think about was the way she wouldn’t look at him right now. And the chill of her voice, as if he’d ruined everything. As if he was now the bully that he had never wanted to be.
That evening, she was quiet. The moon cast its watchful eye on them, reflecting off the ripples of the pool, as if to reflect every moment of the strain the afternoon had put on them. As they sipped the last of their evening coffee and ate the last bites of almond cake that Olivia had baked, Ann-Sophie turned to him.
