Buying His Bride of Convenience

by Michelle Smart

  Those that were there today were all dressed in traditional wedding attire. At Daniele’s request, she wore a traditional wedding dress, in which she felt ridiculous. It was beautiful but she was very much aware that white was not a colour that flattered her and she itched to get out of it and into something she felt comfortable in. She hadn’t worn a traditional dress for Johann and she had meant her vows to him.

  Would Johann understand what she was doing, marrying Daniele? She liked to think he would. He’d been the sweetest, sunniest person she’d ever known, an anomaly not just of men but people in general. He’d married her to protect her and keep her safe.

  Daniele, wearing a black tuxedo, was marrying her for an inheritance he didn’t want. He wasn’t marrying her for his own sake. He was marrying her for the older woman sitting watching them with tears rolling down a face that teetered between joy and grief. He was marrying her to keep the estate that had belonged to his family for six hundred years intact. For all his many selfish faults she had to respect that in this instance he was behaving selflessly.

  In truth, she hadn’t seen any evidence of his selfishness since they’d landed in Italy. In marrying her he was behaving as selflessly as Johann had, albeit for completely different reasons.

  The other difference was that she’d married Johann with relief flooding her veins and hope in her heart. For all Daniele’s insistence that everyone would be a winner from their marriage, she recited her vows without a shred of hope for them. Neither of them meant them for what they should mean, even if her heart did thud heavily as she spoke the words that would bind them together.

  Then it was Daniele’s turn. He stared right at her as he said his vows but for once there was no humour in his stare. He spoke them like a condemned man with no hope of clemency. Yet something sparked between them as they went through the motions of marrying that Eva hadn’t expected, like a bond was snaring itself around them, pulling them together as conspirators, uniting them in their mutual loathing of what they were doing. And something else was there too, something deeper that tugged at her stomach and made the thuds of her heart turn into a skip and her chest tighten.

  We’re together now, his look said. This is it. You and I.

  Only when he took her hand in his and slid the gold band on her wedding finger and she felt the weight of it on her skin did the bond fall apart and Eva come to her senses.

  She’d worn a ring on that finger before. It had been the cheapest they could afford but had meant so much more. It had been given and received with faith and love. All that had been missing was desire. She hadn’t known that. She doubted Johann had either.

  When they were done and officially declared husband and wife, they left the chapel side by side but not hand in hand. There had been no kiss for the bride and that she would count as a blessing. If she ever had to kiss him she didn’t want an audience for it.

  A fresh smattering of light snow had fallen during the ceremony but the estate’s groundsmen had been busy scattering salt to melt a pathway for them. Now the sun was out in the cold blue sky, the air crisp. Eva was thankful Francesca had insisted she buy a cream faux fur wrap to put over her shoulders. It staved off a little of the December chill.

  ‘Let’s get the picture taken here,’ Daniele said.

  ‘In front of the chapel?’ she asked. This would be the picture they would send to the media. She still didn’t know how she felt about having her photo given to the press but accepted that she was marrying—had married—a famous man and that their marriage would be deemed news. The odds of any of her family seeing it were slim and even if they did...what did it matter? They couldn’t touch her or hurt her now.

  He nodded. ‘Let’s keep it simple. One picture. A brief announcement of us having married and leave it at that. We only need to feed the wolves, not give them a banquet. Felipe, can you take it for us?’

  ‘I’ll take it,’ Francesca said, beaming at them. ‘The camera on my new phone is amazing.’

  Eva noticed the indulgent eye roll Felipe gave his fiancée and felt another of those envious pangs in her stomach.

  ‘Right, you two, stand in front of the door—Mamma, can you close it for them, please? Perfect. Daniele, put your arm around your bride.’

  Eva met Daniele’s eye and the pang turned into a flutter.

  Amusement quirked on his lips at his sister’s bossiness but there was something quite different in his eyes, a challenge to her.

  Touch me and look adoringly at me, they said. I dare you.

  And then he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

  His physique had been a good indication that he was strong but she would never have guessed the solidity behind it, or the warmth that radiated from him, which seeped into her skin at the first touch.

  ‘Get closer,’ Francesca ordered. ‘You’ve just married. The whole of Italy and much of the rest of the world is going to be looking at this picture.’

  Eva inched a little closer so that her breast pressed lightly against his torso.

  She blinked, shocked at the instant flash of sensation that pulsed through her.

  ‘Now put your hand with the flowers to his chest.’

  Breathing heavily, her heart hammering louder and more painfully than it had ever done in her life, Eva did as ordered, resting her hand as lightly against him as she could.

  ‘Daniele, take her hand so you’re both holding the flowers.’

  A warm hand enveloped hers, the movement pressing her closer so she found herself flush against him. She could hear the heavy beats of his heart. The scent of his cologne was no longer a trace that she caught but right there, firing into her senses, setting them alight. The hand around her waist slid over to cup her hip, his fingers digging painlessly into her.

  Lifting her eyes, Eva gazed up at him.

  The returning green-brown stare swirled and pulsed, boring into her, explicit confirmation that his desire for her was more than just words, that when he got her into his bed he had every intention of seducing her and that it would be down to her own resolve to stop herself from succumbing.

  An ache spread out low inside her as her gaze drifted to his lips. There was such sensuality in that mouth...

  ‘Perfecto!’

  Francesca’s shout of approval brought Eva back to her senses and she pushed against Daniele’s chest and stepped back.

  ‘You’re done?’

  ‘Yes. Do you want to see it?’

  ‘Can we wait until we get back inside? I’m freezing.’

  But she wasn’t cold. Being held by Daniele had warmed her so thoroughly she needed to lie on the white ground and make snow angels to cool down.

  * * *

  Daniele finished the last of his wine and grimaced.

  So, it had been done. He was now a married man.

  They’d returned to the castello for a short celebratory meal with his family that, for Daniele, had felt like a wake. Not only had he done the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do but as the day had gone on a Pieta-shaped absence had emerged. This was the first family event without him. He’d missed him and he knew his mother and sister had too. The two women had smiled and laughed and celebrated his marriage but neither had been able to hide the sadness in their eyes.

  And now it was time for them to leave, his mother and aunt back to their villa in Pisa, his sister and Felipe flying on to their new home in Rome.

  As they left, his mother cupped his cheeks and said, ‘Thank you for doing this, Daniele. I know marriage is not what you wanted but I think, with Eva, you’ve found someone you can be happy with.’

  He wanted to laugh at the irony of it. Since when had his happiness been a factor in his mother’s thoughts towards him? Even the success he’d made in his professional life, which had far exceeded his brother’s, had come second place in their minds to his absolute refusal to settle down and marry. But he’d always known his own mind and followed his own path and every nudge by his parents to ‘be more like y
our brother’ had only driven him further up that path, and driven him in a number of extremely fast and extremely expensive sports cars that should, according to his parents, have been replaced by luxury cars like the Bentley his brother had driven. At the time of his father’s death just over a year ago he’d barely been on speaking terms with him, his father’s fury at a kiss and tell by another of Daniele’s girlfriends driving the semi-estrangement.

  Why can’t you be like Pieta? He would never bring such shame on our family.

  It had been a constant refrain throughout his life. Be like Pieta. Be sensible. Make the right choices. Think of the family name. Be like Pieta.

  He’d never wanted to be like Pieta. The only person he had ever wanted to be was himself, but in his family’s eyes he hadn’t been good enough as himself.

  But the estrangement was something Daniele deeply regretted. He couldn’t lay all the blame for it at his parents’ door. He was an adult. He had to take responsibility for his own part in it. His mother was grieving for her firstborn and in emotional disarray at the betrayal of the nephew she’d raised as her own from his teenage years and the daughter-in-law she’d so wholeheartedly welcomed into the family.

  So instead of laughing or making a sarcastic retort, he kissed his mother and embraced her tightly.

  Marrying Eva had kept the castello and the rest of the estate in their branch of the family and eased a little of his mother’s pain. He didn’t deny that it made his chest swell to know he’d done something that brought her comfort and happiness. Pieta, and to a lesser degree Matteo, had always been the one to do that before.

  Eva hung back while he made his goodbyes. He caught the startled pleasure in her face when his mother moved from him and took her new daughter-in-law in her arms.

  The day had been as difficult for her as it had been for him but she’d coped stoically. He had no doubts that he’d made the best choice of wife that he could. She hadn’t put a foot wrong, had made a concerted effort to smile and at least pretend that marrying him wasn’t her idea of purgatory, even if it had been for his family’s sake and not his.

  That look in her eye, though, when they’d pressed themselves together for the photograph... He’d seen those ice-blue eyes darken and the tinge of colour spread over her cheeks. He’d felt her curvy body quiver against his.

  Once his family had gone and they were alone in the armoury where they’d had their meal, she sighed heavily and said, ‘Is there any wine left?’

  ‘I’ll get another bottle brought in.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m going to get changed.’ There was a slight wrinkle in her nose as she looked down at the wedding dress she’d been in for hours.

  He let his gaze drift over her. The dress she’d married him in was long and white with a high lacy neck and long lacy sleeves. Her long scarlet hair was wound in a coil at her nape and she’d applied minimal make-up. While she looked beautiful he thought Eva was made for dark, bold colours, not something as insipid as white.

  ‘Let’s go out,’ he said impulsively.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘We’ll change out of these monkey suits first.’

  Their eyes met, understanding flowing between them. A glimmer of amusement played on her lips. It didn’t need saying. The charade they’d been acting was over.

  ‘Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Club Giroud will do. We can dress up in clothes that don’t look as if we’ve just got married, have a drink, and pretend for a few hours that we haven’t thrown our lives away.’

  ‘Your whole attitude to marriage stinks, did you know that?’

  ‘Do you feel any different?’

  She shrugged. ‘I didn’t have a life to throw away. But, yes, let’s go out. See if you can convince me over the next few hours that you’re worth the commitment I’ve just made to you.’

  ‘I thought it was my money you’d committed to.’

  Now she bestowed him with one of her rare smiles. It was like being shone on with starlight. ‘It was. Unfortunately getting that money means I’m now tied to you.’

  ‘Then let us hope the ties don’t cut either of us.’

  * * *

  An hour later Daniele was showered and changed into a suit of a very different hue that made him feel like himself and not a man playing dress-up. He normally liked wearing a tuxedo but marrying in one had made it feel like he was wearing a straitjacket.

  Now he waited in the large reception room for Eva to join him. He’d tapped on her bedroom door—it would be the last time she used it as a bedroom—and she’d called out that she would be ready in ten minutes.

  While he waited, he fiddled with his phone. After a few minutes swiping through the news outlets, and coming across an article about Matteo and Natasha, he chucked it to one side and sighed.

  The torrid affair his cousin and sister-in-law had begun before his brother was even cold in his grave was a matter of greedy public consumption.

  His anger for what they’d done was still as fresh as it had been when he’d first learned about it, but a little time and distance had given him time to think. That time and distance had only increased his anger towards them. The rumours his sister had whispered to him earlier that they’d broken up did nothing to quell it. They were having a baby together. They’d spent the two months since his brother’s death secretly screwing each other while pretending that Natasha had travelled to Miami for a break. He would never have believed his cousin could behave so dishonourably or tell such bold-faced lies.

  Had Pieta meant so little to them that they could betray his memory and everything he’d been to them? He’d never believed in his brother’s saint-like persona but that didn’t mean his brother hadn’t been a good person. He hadn’t deserved that from his wife and the man who’d been closer than he, his own brother, had been to him.

  Then he forgot all about his brother and the rest of his family for the clacking of Eva’s heels introduced her appearance.

  And what heels they were too, black stilettoes that supported legs he could have been forgiven for thinking didn’t exist as she always kept them covered up. Her long black winter coat was buttoned up and covered whatever else she was wearing but her smooth, shapely calves were on show and he had an almost irresistible urge to get on his knees and kiss the arch where they met her pretty ankles.

  He let his gaze drift up to her face. The collar of her coat was up and around her ears to protect her from the chill but it looked to him as if she’d left her hair loose.

  He’d never seen it loose before.

  Her usually bare lashes were thickened with dark mascara, a sheen of glittery eyeshadow on the lids, her lips...

  Her lips were painted a deep, utterly kissable red.

  He couldn’t wait to see what lay beneath the coat. And then he couldn’t wait to see what lay beneath that.

  Eva was his wife now. Which meant she was fair game for him to seduce. And from the challenge firing from her eyes, she remembered that part of their deal as well as he did.

  Try it, those ice-blue eyes said. Try it and see what happens. Try it but remember that I have the right to say no.

  His loins tightened and heated to think of all fun he was going to have in making those eyes fire at him with a desire that screamed yes.

  He had no doubt at all that he would succeed.

  Sooner or later his wife would be putty in his hands.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE EXTERIOR OF Florence’s Club Giroud looked a typical Renaissance masterpiece, a beautiful piece of architecture as beautiful as the rest of the city. But inside...

  Once they were admitted by the bouncers who guarded it like a pair of Rottweilers, scanning Daniele’s card and returning it with a nod of respect, the inner sanctum was like stepping inside a classy, sensual courtesan’s boudoir.

  In the entrance room Eva gazed at deep mahogany stained walls and the fleshy nude Renaissance paintings that lined them. Florence was a stunning city rich in histor
y and heritage and this one room encapsulated its earthier history while retaining its expensive class.

  The concierge greeted them with a wide smile. ‘Good evening, Mr Pellegrini,’ she said in Italian, before nodding politely at Eva. ‘May I take your coats?’

  When Daniele had suggested going out her instinct had been to tell him to go without her. The day had been long and far more emotional than she’d anticipated. In truth, she’d felt dead inside for so long that she hadn’t expected to feel any emotion other than maybe some guilt, even though she knew Johann wouldn’t want her guilt. He’d been gone so long that if she were ever to allow herself to be vulnerable again, which she never would, it wouldn’t be a betrayal to him. She’d mourned him. She’d picked up her life and carried on without him, slowly becoming anaesthetised until she felt nothing at all.

  Perhaps she’d been naïve thinking she could get through this day with her emotions buried. Emotions had been flickering inside her since her arrival in Italy, heightening whenever she was with Daniele. But even so...

  She hadn’t expected to feel like she was choking. She hadn’t expected her lungs to cramp so tightly that breathing had taken effort.

  She hadn’t expected that she would feel differently to have his ring on her finger or that she would look at his bare finger with resentment. Whether Daniele wore a ring or not shouldn’t matter to her. She hadn’t asked him to.

  But they were married now. They needed to get to know each other. They didn’t have to know each other’s deepest secrets but if their marriage was to be painless, they deserved to at least see if there was a chance they could live in harmony, if not friendship.

  Escaping the castello for a few hours to let their hair down together had sounded like the ideal way to start.

  She’d opened her wardrobe and fingered the deep red dress that had caught her eye the moment she’d walked into the second boutique with Francesca. Slipping it on in her bedroom she’d sent a mental word of thanks to Francesca for insisting she disregard the price tag and buy it.