by Jennie Lucas
Turning, the gorgeous blonde had departed, her skinny shoulders straight as she’d stormed out of the villa. In the next room Alessandro was already announcing their engagement to all of his friends, introducing them to Lilley at his side. They’d applauded and murmured congratulations, but she’d felt their bewildered eyes on her, as if they were wondering why on earth someone like Alessandro would choose her for his bride. Something she kept wondering herself. Then he’d announced with a wicked smile, “We’re eloping to Las Vegas. Tonight.”
Lilley had gasped along with everyone else. They would drive to Las Vegas, he insisted, as his private jet was en route to San Francisco after delivering supplies to a desperate community decimated by a hurricane. “We’ll be married by morning,” Alessandro had told her after he’d gotten rid of the guests. He paused. “Unless you wish to wait until your father can attend the ceremony …”
She’d felt a prickle at the back of her neck, knowing she had to tell Alessandro the truth about her family before they could possibly marry. She shook her head. “No. I don’t want my father at the ceremony, and you wouldn’t either. We’re not exactly friends. I’m not even sure he loves me.” She took a deep breath. “Speaking of which,” she said in a small voice, “there’s something I need to tell you. Before I can marry you.”
“No need.” His expression had suddenly become cold, closed off. “I already know what you’re going to say.”
Alessandro knew about her family? Her jaw dropped. “You—you do?”
He nodded, his eyes hard. “There’s no point in talking about it, because there’s nothing I can do to change it.”
She bit her lip. “So you—you forgive me?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said grimly, then shook his head. “But I will never be able to love you.”
Lilley wasn’t worried about him loving her at that moment. She’d just been praying he wouldn’t utterly despise her. Relief washed through her. He knew her secret. Of course he did, she thought, suddenly so giddy she was almost light-headed. He’d probably known it all along! Alessandro Caetani was a brilliant competitor, which is why her cousin found him to be such an infuriating foe. He knew stuff. With a tearful, joyful sob, she threw her arms around him.
Surprised, he’d put his arms around her. “I’ll have my people pack up your things and meet us in Las Vegas. No need to pack clothes,” he’d said gruffly. “I’ll provide you with those.”
“I need my jewelry materials and tools, and the quilt my mother made me.”
“You have a passport, yes?”
“Yes.” With a whole bunch of stamps in and out of French airports she wouldn’t have to hide. “Why a passport?”
“I have a little place in Sardinia.” He’d smiled, his eyes hot. “A honeymoon cottage.”
They drove all night in his convertible, across the dark, vast Nevada desert. Sometime during the night, she’d fallen asleep against his shoulder. When they arrived in Las Vegas, Alessandro woke her with a kiss to her forehead.
“Welcome to your wedding day, cara,” he whispered, and she opened her eyes blearily to see the white light of dawn breaking over the distant craggy mountains.
Alessandro took her to the luxury Hermitage Hotel and Resort, where he ordered a lavish private buffet for two brought up to their penthouse suite. Five waiters with overflowing carts brought up fifty different items for Lilley to sample—waffles, omelets, pecan-stuffed French toast, slabs of bacon, watermelon, fruit salad and chicken-fried steak. Afterward, Alessandro escorted her to an overpriced bridal boutique downstairs in the hotel. Selecting a tuxedo for himself, he casually bought the first wedding dress she admired.
“You can’t!” Lilley cried when she saw the twenty-thousand-dollar price tag, even as her eyes traced the beaded white fabric longingly.
Lifting his eyebrow, he gave her a grin. “I can.”
They collected their marriage license downtown, then returned to their suite at the Hermitage where a bridal bouquet and boutonniere waited for them beside the grand piano. It was intoxicating. Dreamy. They made love on the huge bed overlooking the Las Vegas Strip, then made love again in the shower before changing their clothes. Then, when Alessandro first saw Lilley in her wedding dress, he pulled her straight back into bed.
Lilley sat astride his lap, riding him as he leaned against the headboard, her necklace bouncing softly against her swollen breasts with every thrust. After their third lust-fueled explosion of the afternoon, he kissed the necklace’s pink-heart crystal and brass chain. “Any man on earth would pay a fortune to have such a necklace for his wife.” His expression changed. “It’s just too bad that …”
“What?”
He exhaled. “Nothing.” Taking her hand, he pulled her from the bed. “Let’s get to the ceremony before we get distracted.”
Two hours after their appointed time, they finally married, surrounded by white candles at the hotel’s private wedding chapel. An acquaintance of Alessandro’s who owned the hotel, Nikos Stavrakis, was the only witness as they breathlessly spoke their vows.
And just like that, Lilley was a princess. Wearing a white suit he’d purchased for her, she boarded her husband’s waiting jet, bound for the Mediterranean.
On board, Lilley found the possessions his staff had packed for her. The box of her life was small indeed—just her mother’s homemade quilt, her jewelry tools and an excited, gushing note from Nadia wishing her luck and all the joy in the world. “Jeremy will be moving in with me now—I know you won’t mind because you’re a happily married princess! I can’t believe you married Prince Alessandro! You’ll be famous now!”
As the jet flew the long miles east across the country and towards the Atlantic, Lilley fell asleep on a couch, holding her mother’s quilt to her chest. When she woke up, Alessandro was watching her from a nearby white leather chair.
“I will always protect you,” he whispered, leaning forward. His eyes were dark. “I want you to know that. And I will protect our child.”
She sat up, clutching the quilt. “Protect us. But not too much.” She gave him a weak smile. “My father tried to protect me from the world he didn’t think I was strong enough to handle. If not for my mother, I would never have been allowed out of the house.”
“Which is why he wanted you to marry one of his employees.” His lips lifted in a humorless smile. “When will you tell him about our marriage?”
Her eyes slid away. “I don’t know. It’s—complicated.”
“I understand.” He looked down at his folded hands. “My father married my mother for her money, then spent it all on his mistresses, whom he flaunted to her face. He thought condoms were for the weak. He scattered bastards carelessly all over the world.”
She sucked in her breath. “Oh, Alessandro—”
He looked up, his handsome face stoic. “He died when I was nineteen, and left us only debts in his memory. My mother would have starved in the street, if I hadn’t started work to support her. When she died five years ago, she was living in a palace in Rome. As I vowed she someday would.” He exhaled. “I’m trying to tell you that you never need to worry now, about anything. I will always take care of you.”
She blinked back tears, giving him a smile as she reached across the aisle to stroke his face. “We will take care of each other.”
He turned his rough cheek into her caress, then placed his hand over her own. “You won’t regret giving up your dreams to marry me. I’m no shining knight, but I will treat you well. You won’t have a business of your own, but I will work hard for you and the baby. I’ll give you all the precious jewelry you could possibly desire.”
Frowning, she drew back her hand. “What do you mean—giving up my dream of having a business?”
He stared down at her. “You have no time for a career. Not anymore. Your place is to be my wife, and raise our child.”
“You don’t tell me this until now—after we’re already married?”
“I thought it would be obvious,
” he said stiffly, looking uncomfortable.
“No,” she whispered. “You knew I would be upset. Which is why you waited till now.” She forced her voice to be calm. “I never agreed to give up my business.”
He looked at her. “If that dream had ever meant anything to you, you would have done something about it long ago.”
Lilley’s eyes widened, then she sucked in her breath. He was right. She could have built her business for years, but instead, she’d squandered her time being paralyzed by fear.
“Money will never be an issue for you again,” he tried. “I will provide you with everything you desire.” He gave her a smile. “And if you want to make jewelry as a little hobby to entertain yourself, I have no objection to it.”
“Generous of you,” she muttered.
He stared down at her, then set his jaw. “Once you have properly settled in as my bride, as the mother of our child, well then—we will see,” he said grudgingly. His eyes softened as he stroked her cheek. “I want you to be happy, Lilley. I will do everything I can to make that happen.”
Feeling his hand upon her skin, seeing the tenderness in his eyes, she exhaled. It would be fine. Somehow, it would all work out. “I want to do the same for you.”
His eyes were hot and dark as he gave her a wicked grin. “Ah, but you’ve made me so happy already. You make me happy on an hourly basis,” he breathed, leaning forward to kiss her. He stopped, his face inches from hers. “Just promise you’ll never lie to me.”
“I’ll never lie to you,” Lilley promised, and she meant it, with all her heart.
“Io bacio.”
“Io bacio,” Lilley repeated, balancing a book on her head.
Standing by the window overlooking the bright-blue water of the Costa Smeralda, her Italian tutor smiled. “Tu baci.”
“Tu baci,” Lilley repeated rather breathlessly, walking across the marble floor in four-inch high heels.
“Lui bacia.”
As Lilley repeated all the conjugations of baciare, she found herself smiling. Her tutor had clearly chosen the verb to kiss in honor of her standing as a newlywed. And though her feet ached from the expensive shoes and her body ached from standing up straight in the designer skirt suit for hours, she felt strangely happy. Yes, her head ached from a full schedule of etiquette and deportment lessons, mixed with Italian classes in which she not only learned the word for fork, la forchetta, but she was taught which one to use for salad and which for dessert. But she was … happy.
This wasn’t the same world she’d left behind in Minnesota, that was for sure. Her father had come from nothing. He’d never given a hoot about etiquette. Now, after a week in Sardinia, Lilley felt exhausted, but it was the best kind of tired. She felt sore, too, but there was a very delicious reason for that as well. A hot blush filled her cheeks as she remembered what Alessandro had done to her in bed last night, and what she’d done to him. The braver she got, the more she acted on her own needs and fantasies, the more he liked it.
“Molto bene,” the Italian tutor finally said with satisfaction.
“You are a quick learner, Principessa,” said the Swiss woman who’d come from a famous boarding school in the Alps to teach her deportment.
“Grazie,” Lilley said with a laugh. A quick learner? She’d certainly never heard that one before. But it helped that she didn’t have to read, just listen, repeat and practice. Her husband had given the instructors precise instructions.
Her husband.
After a week in Alessandro’s white wedding-cake villa in Sardinia, seven blissful days of life as his wife, Lilley still adored the word husband. She held the word close to her heart, cuddled it like a child. She had a husband. And—she glanced discreetly at her watch, almost causing the book to slide off her head—it was almost five o’clock. Her favorite time of day.
The Italian tutor followed her gaze and nodded. “We are done.” He turned to gather his briefcase. “Buona sera, Principessa.”
Madame Renaud pulled the leatherbound book off Lilley’s head. “Bonsoir, Principessa,” she said, “et merci.” Madame followed her tutor out of the door.
Principessa. Another word that still seemed exotic and foreign—nothing to do with her at all.
The instant her instructors were gone, Lilley raced upstairs towards the master bedroom as fast as her tight beige pencil skirt would allow her. She rushed down the hall, past priceless works of modern art that to her looked like a preschooler’s squiggles, past expensive white furniture that was mostly just hard and uncomfortable in her opinion.
But there was one thing about this villa that she loved: their bedroom. Her high heels clicked loudly as she hurried down the hall. Passing a window, her eyes fell on the view of the turquoise Mediterranean and white sand beach. All right—two things she loved about this house.
A week ago she would have had difficulty placing the Italian island of Sardinia on a map, but now she was in love, because the Costa Smeralda, the island’s green coast, was the most joyful and beautiful place she’d ever seen. The open windows lured in a warm, sweet wind to blow against her hair, and the bright golden sun warmed her body and heart. As if those needed any warming.
Running her hand along the curving handrail of the villa’s white staircase, she snorted as she remembered Alessandro’s description of this vacation home. Some cottage! It had eight bedrooms and a full staff, though they always disappeared at five o’clock each night, as Alessandro had ordered, so the two of them could be alone.
Lilley smiled to herself. She enjoyed her lessons during the day, but at night … She shivered. At night, she and her husband set the world on fire.
At the end of the hallway, Lilley pushed open their bedroom door, half expecting to find Alessandro on the bed, wearing only a strategically placed jewelry box. Yesterday, he’d worn only a large black velvet box which held a priceless diamond and emerald necklace. He seemed to enjoy giving her such expensive trinkets, so Lilley always tried to accept them graciously, even though the impersonal, sterile new jewelry was the last thing she cared about.
Spending time in bed with him, on the other hand … well. She’d take all of that she could get.
But today, their bedroom was empty. So was the study where Alessandro had had business meetings all day with high-level board members from his headquarters in Rome. Peeking through the window, she saw him pacing by the pool, talking on the phone. Lilley’s eyes devoured his strong physique in a snug white T-shirt, old jeans and bare feet as he paced from the white cabana to the poolhouse. Behind him, palm trees waved against the sparkling blue sea.
The pool! Perfect! She’d get him splashing in there yet!
Squelching a mischievous laugh, Lilley raced back to their bedroom and changed into a tiny bikini, one of the six he’d bought for her in Porto Cervo. Tying the strings at her hips and back, she glanced at herself in the mirror. Funny how she’d once felt so embarrassed about her plump body. She’d worn baggy clothes that didn’t fit, trying to hide her shape. But Alessandro loved her body so much, what could possibly be wrong with it? How could she not love her overlarge breasts, her curvy belly, her wide hips, with their child growing inside her?
For the first time in her life, she felt comfortable in her own skin. Even the morning sickness had all but disappeared since she’d become Alessandro’s wife. A coincidence? Or were her body and unborn baby in agreement with her, all of them deliriously happy about their new lives?
Lilley looked at the brilliant ten-carat canary diamond ring on her finger. He’d bought it for her at the Caetani boutique in Las Vegas, as if the million-dollar price tag were nothing at all. It was pretty, though it weighed down her hand. As she went outside, the facets sparkled. She saw her husband sitting in a chair by the pool with a computer in his lap, and he was more seductive to her than any diamond.
His dark form shone brighter than the white sun, which on Sardinia was really saying something.
Palm trees waved in the warm breeze, giving a hin
t of moving shade over Alessandro as she walked around the pool, swaying her hips.
He didn’t look up, but continued to stare intently at the screen. She went around to the back of his chair, then bent to rub his shoulders. “Hi.”
“Buon pomeriggio, cara,” he said absently, typing.
“Buon pomeriggio?” Smiling, she shook her head. “Buona sera.”
His expression still distracted, Alessandro glanced up at her. Then he got a good look at her bikini, and his eyes widened. He snapped his computer shut. “Buona sera,” he replied with interest. “Your Italian is coming along.”
“I’ve always been interested in your native tongue,” she said with a suggestive smile. When she saw his gaze linger upon her breasts, she glanced innocently at his computer. “I’m sorry to interrupt, were you done?”
“I am now,” he growled. Pushing the computer to a side table, he pulled her into his lap and thoroughly kissed her. As she felt his sun-warmed lips against hers, melting her from the inside, she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. With his body against hers in the sunlight, she felt intoxicated with pleasure.
There was only one thing that bothered her.
For the last week, they’d made love constantly, eaten delicious meals, slept in each other’s arms. Last night, he’d taken her into the village for dinner, and afterward he’d held her hand as they walked through the winding streets. She’d thought she might die of happiness. Then they’d strolled past an outdoor nightclub. She’d eagerly tried to pull him towards the music, towards the dancing couples spilling out onto the street. But he’d shaken his head. “I don’t dance. You know that.”
“Oh, please,” she’d cajoled. “Just this once!”
But he’d refused. Except when they were in bed, Alessandro didn’t allow himself to do anything that might make him appear vulnerable or foolish. He didn’t dance. He didn’t play. He didn’t splash in the pool.
But that was about to change. It was time he learned to let himself go.
