by Jillian Dodd
“That’s what I want,” she says, tears filling her eyes. “Believe it or not, I’ve considered taking your father back. That’s the real reason I hopped on a plane here. I’m afraid I’ll do it, that I’ll get sucked back into our old ways, old habits, old feelings. I need to find myself and reignite my passions.”
“Is there anything you ever dreamed about doing?”
She gazes into the distance. After a few seconds, she whispers, “Flowers. I’ve planned so many charity events over the years, and flowers are the reason I’ve kept doing them. You know, before I met your father, I worked in a floral shop. The owner got really sick, and I had to do a funeral by myself once. The family sent me a thank-you note, complimenting me on the design. The owner wanted me to go to floral design school.”
“Maybe you should do that now.” I grin at her. “Or maybe you could help me. I’m actually looking for a liaison to work with florists. To make sure their designs end up being exactly what we envision for our clients.”
“You’d hire me?”
“Of course I would. You are more anal than I am, yet you’re still quite creative.”
“I’d have to move here.”
“Yes. You’d also be doing a fair amount of travel. Our clients want us to come to them, wherever they happen to be in the world.”
“Do you think we could work together?” she asks.
I smile at her. “I think so. As long as you remember who the boss is.”
“Kyle?” she replies with a grin.
“Exactly.”
We’re sitting on the terrace, just finishing up lunch, when my cell rings.
I glance at it. “Collin.”
“Are you going to answer?”
I sigh. “I probably should. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. I think I’ll get up and stretch my legs. Maybe walk down to the tasting room.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you there in a few.” I answer the phone, “This is Ariela.”
“And this is your husband,” Collin replies.
“Hey, Collin. What’s up?” I say cheerfully, refusing to let him to spoil my day.
“What’s up? Really, Ariela? Have you turned into some stoner surfer out there? What has happened to your vocabulary?”
“I’m in a good mood, Collin, and I’m busy. What is the reason for your call?”
“I’m your husband. I don’t need a reason.”
“Well, if there isn’t a reason for your call, I’ll just say that it has been utterly delightful to hear your voice, but I must go.”
“Fine. We need to discuss the divorce.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t want it.”
“Why not? I’m being more than fair. My attorney even thinks I’m being stupid in all that I’m giving you.”
“It doesn’t matter what you give me. I want you to come home. I’ll fix everything. I’ll be the man you want me to be. I swear it.”
“What’s wrong, Collin?” I ask, knowing that’s not the real reason for his call.
He sighs. “I guess I didn’t realize all you do for me. I don’t even know which cleaners you went to. I must have gone to the wrong one. They completely ruined two of my dress shirts and lost the pants to one of my suits.”
“It’s on the outside of the bag, Collin.”
“The pants?”
“No, the name of the cleaners I used, along with their address. Sounds like you need to hire a housekeeper. Someone who can do all those meaningless tasks you expected me to make my life’s work and still feel fulfilled.”
“I get it, okay? I’ve been a bad husband.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “I thought we were a team. Whatever. The reason for my call is that my attorney just informed me that we have a court date. It’s soon. And I’m freaking out a little. We used to be friends, Ariela. I have no one to talk to.”
I nearly suggest he talk to his lover, but I take a deep breath. I just have to get through this. Get on with my life.
“I’m happy to talk to you about it, Collin,” I lie. The last thing I want to do is talk to him about it. I want to scream and yell at him for cheating on me, but at the same time, I feel like discovering the truth was a gift. He had been pressuring me to have children. To quit my job. If I had done those things and then found out—I can’t even imagine. When I found out about his infidelity, it was a horrible shock. I was pissed. Hurt. But, now, I realize that finding out was the best thing to happen to me.
“I screwed up,” he says. “I know that. But it was a mistake.”
“Sleeping with your secretary for months was a mistake? All the other girls, they were mistakes, too?”
“I just needed it for me. I know that probably doesn’t make sense—”
“Actually, it makes perfect sense. And it’s why I tried to get you to go to counseling in the past. It’s exactly why you need this divorce. You went to other women because you were seeking attention. Your ego masks your lack of self-confidence. Your issues need to be addressed, Collin. And, if you don’t work on them, they will destroy your life, just like they destroyed our marriage. I loved you. I wish you the best. But we are most definitely getting a divorce. The question is, do you want to drag the process out or get on with your life?”
“Our court date is in thirty days. Not much time for dragging. Guess I’ll see you then.”
“I guess you will.”
I hang up my phone and circle the date in red on my calendar. If all goes well, I’ll be a free woman very soon.
Bam’s Castle - Turin, Italy
SHELBY
We arrive in Turin, Italy, late in the afternoon. My breath is quickly taken away by the view. The majestic Alps rise to the northwest of the city, the village is red-roofed, and stately buildings line the boulevards.
Juan points upward to an ancient stone castle surrounded by a wall. “There it is. What do you think?”
“It looks a little drafty,” I tease, causing him to shut me up with a kiss.
“The wall surrounding the castle was built between the ninth and fourteenth century, and the castle was once owned by King Arduino, the Bishop of Ivrea, and even the Holy Roman Emperor, Otto the first.”
“You’ve seen one castle, you’ve seen them all, I suspect.”
He pulls me close and tickles my sides, causing me to screech.
“Juan! Behave!”
“Oh, but you don’t like it when I behave,” he teases back.
“True, but I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. My mother will adore you if you follow a few simple rules. Do not use the Lord’s name in vain, do not curse—that one is particularly difficult for me—and no fake laughing. She says that is the guise of the devil. You are a beautiful woman, and I have chosen you as my bride. In my family, a wife is placed above all others, to be respected.”
“Except you cheated on your first wife?” I ask, wondering if it’s all bullshit.
“Yes.”
“So, you don’t follow your family’s rules, in other words. Does your father?”
He laughs. “My father has had numerous dalliances over the years.”
“And, in your family, that is not considered disrespectful to the wife?” I ask incredulously.
“My parents were raised in a religion that offers confession,” he answers carefully.
“Ah, I see. Sin first, ask for forgiveness later?”
“Something like that.”
“Look, Juan,” I say, sitting up straighter, “I don’t consider that respectful. Maybe we shouldn’t mention our engagement just yet. Not until we can agree on the terms of our relationship.”
He looks panicked.
“Driver, stop here,” he says, escorting me out of the car.
I’m half-worried that he’s kicking me to the curb, but he delicately takes my face in his hands.
“Shelby, my love, we must agree now because, upon entering my home, we’ll be sharing the good news with my parents. Of this, I am very pleased. So, tell
me your hesitations.”
“Will there be a prenup?” I ask.
“No, my darling. We will be wed for life, I hope. What is mine is yours. We will live a life of luxury, and you will be my queen.”
“What about other women? Will you be faithful in our marriage?”
He closes his eyes and sighs. “I want to be.”
“But that is difficult for you to commit to?”
“Honestly, yes, it is. I seem not to be capable of it.”
“Juan, respect and truth are more important to me than fidelity. Here’s what I propose. At whatever point in our wedded bliss you should desire to take an additional lover, you must tell me about it. For me, it’s not the infidelity that is disrespectful; it’s the sneaking around and lying. I also would ask that any affairs be discreet—whether we take a lover individually or together.”
“Together?” he says, shocked.
“Yes. I am not opposed to being creative in our sex life. I’m not opposed to sharing you with another woman on occasion as well as being shared with another man. But it has to be equal. For example, if you are allowed to take a lover, so am I. We must be honest with each other about it and swear not to go behind each other’s backs.”
He looks thoroughly perplexed. “The thought of you with another man greatly upsets me, but I will agree to your demands. In the past, I did sneak around. It would be wonderful to have your blessing. It also would probably take the thrill out of it.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I say, smiling. “But please know that it is my sincerest hope that I am all you will ever want.”
“That is my desire as well,” he agrees.
“You mentioned that your mother is religious. Will you tell her of my pregnancy today?”
He violently shakes his head. “No, not until after we are married.”
“She will be able to do the math once the baby is born. We can’t keep that part a secret.”
Juan grins. “If she mentions a concern, we will remind her that she and my father married in July, and I was born in January.”
I count it out on my fingers. “Six months. So, with your parents, some things are not discussed?”
“Only what is pleasing and pleasant are safe discussions with my mother,” he tells me, making me more nervous.
“How did she treat your first wife?” I ask. “Was she nice to her?”
“She was very critical. Vanessa was beautiful. She was strong-willed. And, even though my mother knew we were in love, our union did not produce an heir. Really, the fact that she had a career of her own was why my mother didn’t approve of her. She felt that was why our marriage failed—because Vanessa hadn’t kept up with her wifely duties. She’s a bit old-fashioned.”
“So, your mother would prefer that I didn’t work?”
“What matters to me is what you want. If you choose to work, I will give you my full support, but there is no financial need. And, honestly, I would rather you be available to travel with me, to spend your afternoons lunching with friends, or to help support charitable organizations. You will be seen in society, and your personal upkeep will be a chore as well.”
“Like working out? Are you saying you won’t love me if I get fat? You know I’m going to get bigger as my pregnancy progresses, right?”
“Of course I do, my darling. I promise to love you, providing you promise to love yourself.”
“Well, if you think I’m letting this body go to pot, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I hope it is me who has you coming, my darling. Are you still willing to take my hand in marriage?”
I let out a little huff but am very pleased. No job? Doing nothing but lunching, shopping, traveling, and working out? Yeah, sign me up.
“Yes, I am.”
“It is settled then,” he says, sealing the deal with a kiss.
“Not exactly. We need to discuss my pregnancy. When we do announce that we are pregnant, your mother will ask about the timing. Like were you even near California when the baby was conceived? When people ask when and how we met, what will we say?”
“Hmm. We will tell the truth about how and where we met, but we will fudge the dates a little. Approximately when did you conceive?”
“Um”—I take my phone out of my pocket, noticing Riley has texted and called numerous times, and look at my calendar—“I got pregnant on August the twenty-fourth.”
He pulls out his phone and smiles. “We are clearly meant to be. I had a match in San Diego the week after and actually did stay at the hotel where we met on that date. After that, I kept finding myself wanting to spend more time with you. I just proposed to you on my yacht. Anything else?”
With no prenup and the ability to fuck around if I desire, I don’t see any reason to wait. “Juan, when would you like to marry?”
“As soon as you can plan it,” he replies.
“I was just thinking about what you said about your mother. With me being pregnant and my not wanting to make a bad impression before we are married, we probably need to do it soon.”
“The sooner, the better, yes,” he agrees.
I tilt my head, pretending like I just thought of something, but in reality, I have been thinking about it since he proposed. “I’ve heard, sometimes, celebrity couples surprise guests at a party by getting married.”
“Are you suggesting we get married this weekend? As part of the festivities?” A tear forms in his eye.
“What’s wrong?” I panic.
“Nothing,” he says, placing his hand over his heart. “Everything is perfect. My father will pass soon. It could be any day. It would make me very happy for him to die with the knowledge that his company is in good hands and having seen me wed. But I am torn between my own desires and wanting you to plan the wedding of your dreams.”
“Juan, you’re the man of my dreams. I don’t need an extravagant wedding.” I point to the castle looming in the distance and can’t help but laugh. “Um, maybe because you were born with it, a place like that is just a pile of bricks to you—”
“Stone actually.” He laughs.
“But to someone like me, getting married in a castle is a fairy tale come true. I’ll just need to find a white dress.”
“I will have a designer flown in from Milan,” he says.
“And a simple bouquet.”
“I will have ten florists at your beck and call. We will hold extravagant receptions at our homes around the world.”
I shake my head. “If that’s what you want, I will, but it’s not what I need.”
He kisses my forehead. “What do you need, my dear?”
“I just told you—a white dress, a simple bouquet, and you standing at the end of the aisle. Anything beyond that will be for you.”
He pulls me in for a desire-filled kiss. I find myself extremely turned on, my hand immediately moving to the front of his pants to grope him. It doesn’t matter that we are on the side of the road. The second I have his pants unzipped and his cock freed, he picks me up, pushes me against the side of the car, and fucks me.
Even though we have agreed to everything and I’ve been coached on how to behave, I’m still pretty nervous when I meet his mother. She is tall, stately, and looks much younger than I expected. Of course, women with money have access to the best skin care and plastic surgeons. And I do notice that her forehead seems to be frozen in place. Her lips are plumped, and her body is shapely. She’s wearing a suit, nude pantyhose, designer heels, and a matching hat. Not to mention, large, ornate jewelry, none of it appearing to be costume.
I look down at my simply tailored dress. I remember thinking it was the ultimate in high fashion when Riley’s personal shopper suggested it.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet Shelby Benson, my betrothed,” Juan says.
“Betrothed?” his mother gasps. “You are engaged? To be married?”
“Yes, Mother,” Juan replies with a large grin.
I can tell this all makes him happy. I ma
ke him happy.
“And I hope you will welcome her into our family with open arms, for I am desperately in love with her.”
I have never had someone so openly share their love for me, and it makes me feel utterly romantic.
His mother has an amused look on her face, almost like she doesn’t quite believe him. But then she takes my hand, observing the massive engagement ring on my finger. “It suits you, dear. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
Juan tightly wraps his arm around my waist, and I make sure to stand up straight—chest out and chin up, like the ladies I observed at the hotel. I am so glad that I studied their every move.
She kisses each of our cheeks and then takes my hand. “Juan, you should go to your father while your bride-to-be and I have a talk.”
Juan doesn’t let go of me, and I can tell that he’s nervous about his mother liking me. It’s really kind of cute.
“Well, there’s more news, Mother. And I hope you will give us your blessing. It will require much work on your part, and I know it is a lot to ask with you having to plan the party as well as care for father.”
“What do you wish, my son?” she asks, carefully studying him.
“I do not want to wait to make my beloved my wife. I offered her the wedding of her dreams at any location in the world, but she asked me where I would choose if it were my decision. I told her of my desire to marry here, in the chapel. Of course, I would leave it to the two of you to plan further, but I mentioned how lovely the gardens were. I wondered if you would allow us to marry and have a small gathering of select guests before the parade.”
His mother’s face, through all her Botox, actually registers shock. “So soon?”
“Yes, Mother, we are very much in love and do not want to dally.”
“Very well. Traditionally, the groom does not have much say in the wedding planning, but I know young people are changing that. What do you desire, son?”
He hugs me. “I already have everything I desire. I just want to make it official in the eyes of the church.”
“Your bride and I will figure out everything else. Come, my dear,” she says to me, “let me show you the gardens.”
