The Royals of Monterra: Royal Rivals (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “You can’t marry me? Or you can’t get married?”

  I sighed heavily. “Probably both.”

  He hummed quietly, not seeming too shocked or perturbed. “Do you love me, Claire?”

  “Yes.” The word was ripped from my chest and hung in the air for a moment. “Yes, I love you. So much. I adore you, amore, you know I do.”

  He grinned, and his grin made me grin. “E ti adoro io. Sei il mio sogno diventata realtà.”

  Even now, I couldn’t catch all the words he’d said, though my Italian was much improved, but I got the general idea.

  He adored me, and I knew that he did.

  That was the problem.

  “Why do you want to marry me, babe?” I asked in a weak voice. “I’m not a good match for you, everybody says so.”

  “Nobody told me that,” he said easily, coming towards me. “Not a one. A few people thought I was crazy, but I assumed that was because you were too sexy for me. I love that about you, so it wasn’t a good reason to change things.”

  I groaned and turned away from him. “Be serious! I can’t be the reason everything you are working for doesn’t happen! People don’t like me, and you need a wife people love!”

  “I need a wife that I love,” he said firmly, no longer joking at all. “That is all I have ever needed, and that is all I will have. Nobody else is marrying you, Claire. I am.” He huffed and shifted his weight. “Will you come over here, cara mia? I need to hold you or touch you or something, I’m about to go mad and open my eyes or something.”

  I got up and came over to him, adjusting my skirts. “I’m right here,” I told him, taking his hand.

  He brought it to his lips at once, kissing each knuckle and then reaching out to stroke my cheek, his eyes still closed. “Marry me, Claire. I don’t know how to have my dreams without you, and whatever I accomplish or don’t accomplish in my life, all that matters is that you are by my side.”

  I swallowed hard and arched up to kiss him, making sure to keep it gentle, though he took my chin and added more emphasis than I would have done.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  He smiled, kissing my brow. “Ti amo, fatina. I’ll see you at the altar.”

  I nodded, though he wouldn’t see it. “Yes, you will.”

  He squeezed my hand tightly. “Promise?”

  “Promessa,” I replied.

  He groaned and gave me another hard kiss. “I love it when you speak Italian.”

  I laughed and pushed him away. “You’ll hear plenty of it later so long as you go!”

  He kissed my hand quickly and felt his way to the door, then turned back once it was open. “I’ll be waiting, Tesoro. Don’t be long.”

  He blew me a kiss, then was gone.

  I turned back to the mirror with a heavy breath, my heart racing.

  The wedding was on. I couldn’t refuse Salvatore anything, and today seemed a poor time to start.

  I touched up my makeup, as my lipstick had gotten smudged, and tried for a smile. It felt forced and looked pained.

  Well, it would have to do.

  Thalia and Rosalia popped back in, looking beautiful and radiant in their one-shoulder gowns. “Ready, bella sposa?” Rosalia asked. “Your sister is anxious.”

  I snorted softly. “Olivia is getting married next year, she can be anxious on her own time. But yes, I am ready.”

  I turned from the mirror and followed them out.

  The music started, and I took my father’s arm, letting him lead me down the aisle.

  As soon as I saw Salvatore, my smile… my real smile… made an appearance, and my heart and every other part of me sang a brilliant chorus. His eyes lit up at the sight of me, and his smile made me want to run at him full speed, despite our setting and audience.

  He knew, I could see it, and he winked, which only sped my heart up more.

  I loved him with all my heart and then some. His was the song my heart sang, and I couldn’t imagine my future with anyone else.

  He knew that, too, and his eyes shimmered with a tender light as I approached.

  This was forever, I decided then and there. No matter what happened, no matter what we faced or what anybody said, this was it. I would never let him go, and he would love me with the same passion twenty years from now that he did today. We were going to do this, and we were going to last.

  Forever. With him.

  That was now my dream.

  I could barely breathe as my father placed my hand in Salvatore’s, as we turned to face the priest, and the ceremony started.

  But when the time came, my voice was clear and precise: “I will.”

  And I did.