“Chelsea’s older sister.” His heart almost dropped as he realized he hadn’t told Rosalind all the details about why her, including the computer program. He should have.
However the conversation would then transition and she’d want to see the texts and her profile. It was best if he was prepared. He swam toward the pool ladder and climbed out. She followed him as she said, “Wow. I read about this in a magazine. I’ve had friends who wanted to save time, money and misery to get the name from the computer program she used.”
Under the towel he had his cell phone. He pulled it out and sat on the chair as he said, “Chelsea texted me that info for free actually.”
Rosalind dried her hair. “And who did it say?”
And if he spoke about the improbability, he’d make a fool of himself. Instead he handed her his phone and said, “Here. You can read the text and documents yourself.”
She read Chelsea’s text that told him Rosalind Diaz was his true love. She then motioned with her hand that she wanted to click further. He nodded and she opened the files about her and her life.
Rosalind looked like she might cry as she said, “This is the same night you met me on the Eiffel Tower.”
“Yes.” The strum in his veins grew stronger.
She started to give him back his phone but then held it to her heart. “Wait. Is this for real?”
There was a huge chance encounter for the next part as he hadn’t flown to go find her. He tried to be clear as he said, “About half an hour before I met you.”
She scrolled the text but there was no reply. He hadn’t even sent a “thanks.”
Rosalind glanced at him and said, “Did Chelsea send you up to the top to meet me too?”
“No. That was Astorre.” When she offered him his phone, he accepted and quickly texted Chelsea, Thanks. I married Rosalind. See you at Matteo’s wedding with your farmer.
He then showed Rosalind his phone and what he’d texted. The last thing he needed was for her to be jealous. She nodded at him as she asked, “He knew this too?”
Secrets ruined lives. He’d seen good people become unhappy because they thought they could lead two lives without getting caught in lies. He put his phone back and then stood. “I didn’t want to read the name of whoever the computer selected. I thought this true love thing was a stupid concept.”
He placed his hand on her lower back so they might walk the grounds together. He ignored how his skin became aware of her, even now as she asked, “And now?”
Right. Rosalind was compatible and perhaps he’d ignored the computer system in place because he was stubborn. He kept his voice low like one of his friends might hear him, but he needed to tell Rosalind the truth. “Maybe this computer program is pretty good. It said you and now I cannot imagine a different bride.”
“Really?” She batted her eyes.
His body hardened and he took her hand, kissing the knuckles. Stephano needed her to understand that she was the only woman he desired. “Absolutely, though I’m not sure I’m much of a prize for you. If I’d had more of a choice and controlled my investments outright, I might have thrown away tradition as Astorre intends.”
They made their way to the back stairwell of the house. The staff had put their lunch on the veranda that overlooked the green lawns and reflecting pools. “Well," she said, "I’m happy we’re together.”
He opened the door and held it for her. “Let’s change and return for lunch.” He guided her up the stairs to his bedroom, where he noticed his staff had hung more clothes for his bride that he’d ordered so Rosalind could be ready for anything.
She didn’t notice at all as she headed into the bathroom to change and to check her makeup in the mirror. “Whatever you want. Today has been a great day. I should probably call my mom and tell her where I am though.”
Good. If they were now together for their lives, he needed her to feel at home. So he ducked his head in the door as she turned on the shower and asked, “Would she want to go to Matteo’s wedding with us?”
He tried not to notice how goosebumps ran all over her body, including her nipples.
She took out soap clearly not caring he was there and washed her hair. “In Paris?”
“Yes.” His body was hard and alive and waiting for her.
She washed the soap out, letting the bubbles flow down her as she said, “I’ll invite her.”
Anything she wanted she could have. He needed her to get out of the shower. He’d storm in and take her if she let him, but for now he stayed still and in control. “Tell her I’ll send my plane for her.”
“She’ll probably love you for that.” She turned off the faucet.
A towel. She’d want a towel. He turned and took one off the rack, handing it to her as she stepped out.
If she was just any woman that didn’t matter, he’d have teased her and thrown her against the wall already.
This was his wife. He held still and watched as she covered up her delectable body. “And if she wants to stay here, in Avce, we have the empty dowager house across the estate.”
Another smile flashed on her face as she shook out her hair. “She might never leave.”
This was important. She needed to understand. He swallowed and said, “Your family is now mine, and honestly, you’re all I have.”
“So we’re family now?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“If you’d like. We are married.” He directed her into the bedroom, backwards.
His bride deserved luxury and softness, not hard and fast.
He kissed her cheek and she redirected his mouth toward her lips. “I’d like.”
She pulled him on her and he unwrapped her from the thick towel as he whispered, “Good. Then call her.”
Her legs curled around his sides and every cell in his body wanted to forget the rest of the day and keep her in this bed, with him.
Her phone rang. He kissed her one more time intending to ravage her, but then he stopped.
His wife needed to be respected. So he jerked himself off the bed and helped wrap the towel around her as he said, “Call your mom. I’ll check on our lunch on the veranda.”
She stood with the towel covering her. “Then after?”
Once they had no more interruptions? Another ring trilled in the air as he said, “I’d like to seduce you back into our bed, without our phones.”
A huge smile grew on her face. “Then I’ll be fast.”
“Good, because I want you.” He slammed the door behind him as he left. If he stayed, he’d take her without stopping. This already felt unnatural, waiting. But soon he’d have her back in his bed and then nothing was going to stop them. Today was too perfect, just as she’d said, and her kisses only made everything sweeter.
Rosalind watched the sun rise from their bedroom window.
The reds and golds of the morning somehow made the thick green of the olive trees outside brighter.
Everything in Avce was perfect.
She stood from the bed, despite how warm it was lying next to Stephano. His muscles were clearly defined and he worked out as well as swam in that gorgeous pool.
Seriously, butterflies had flown next to them while they swam. This morning the view outside the window seemed idyllic, like she’d landed herself in the Garden of Eden, if such a place existed.
She watched the sun climb into the sky.
Stephano kissed her shoulder. She turned and let out a small sigh. “Time is going fast here.”
He hugged her waist and said, “In a few days we’ll head back to Paris, but for now, I just like looking at you.”
Paris. When she returned to the city, she planned on giving everything away that she no longer needed.
Life seemed strange now. She walked him back to the bed and sat. Once he joined her, she decided it was time to be a little more serious. This was the rest of her life she now considered. “Do you have any hobbies, Stephano?”
He shrugged. “No, not really, though I can play the
piano.”
And that explained the small electric keyboard she’d spotted in the closet. She went over and took it out. He laughed as she laid it on the bed next to where he sat on the mattress. “Your mother taught you?”
“Yes, she did.” He rolled over and plugged the keyboard in—playing a short Christmas jingle.
“What was she like?” Rossie crossed her legs to watch him.
He focused on the keyboard, choosing a familiar classic. Perhaps Beethoven? This tune sounded like something she’d heard from a string band at a wedding but she’d never learned the title. “My mother? Her name was Ophelia, like the tragic character in Hamlet.”
His notes to the melody turned sad. “But she was a lady and clearly had you.”
His lips thinned as he continued to play the haunting melody. Once done, he pushed the piano away and turned toward her. “Like the girl in the play though, my mother was not happy with my father.”
She hugged his shoulder. “Why?”
He took the keyboard back and played a dramatic melody that they’d use in a movie as he said, “He lied and cheated on her, with multiple women.”
The music was like thunder that echoed his words. She kept her voice low to not break the spell as she asked, “Is that why you were so adamant about not cheating?”
He played the song so deeply, as if he lived in his memory. She just watched his closed eyes as for once he was more open. The song ended. “Honesty is a trait that ensures living is easier on all people involved.”
She pressed her hand on his. “When was the last time you played?”
“Years ago.” He moved the keyboard so she might join him, side by side on the edge of the bed.
He positioned her fingers to the keys and they played a happier Christmas song she knew well. She laughed. “So, let’s start again.”
“Now?”
She took her fingers out from under his and pushed the keyboard toward him. “Yes, I want to hear a full song from you without talking.”
His hands already stroked the keys but he asked her, “Are you sure?”
Nothing was more beautiful or necessary. He loved his mother and music. “Absolutely. And for the record, I agree with you about honesty, though I didn’t learn from a bad example at all.”
This time he played Mozart. This tune was complicated and there was no way she could follow his hands as they flew across the keys.
Once he finished, he bowed and she clapped.
Music made him happy and this was good to know. He straightened. “Is your mom coming to Matteo's wedding?”
“To Paris to meet you, yes.” Last night’s conversation replayed in her mind. Her mother didn’t believe that she’d married anyone but she wanted all the details emailed to her just the same. “You’ll see Barbara Diaz in the flesh.”
Once her mother put the announcement in the newspaper, she’d pack and head to Paris, though she was stubbornly booking her own room. Rossie’d not explain all of that to Stephano. Not yet. When they were heading back and able to meet everyone in person, on the plane, she’d give him more details.
He simply smiled and said, “Good.”
“Perhaps you can offer the house once you meet her.” She'd set the stage for both of them to really like each other. Her mother would appreciate being thought of. Rossie stood and picked a dress from the closet as she said, “She and my father were happy when I was little, but then they decided it was best for them to get a divorce. It wasn’t anywhere as dramatic as what you went through with your parents and I mostly have good memories of my dad.”
“Glad to hear it.” Stephano selected a pair of gray slacks that had been tailored for him as they were the exact length and fit.
She put the green dress back in the closet and traded it for the blue as she said, “My father once said he had a horrible father though, but I never met my grandfather. I miss Dad a lot.”
“I see.” His face went unreadable as he took out a white button-down shirt.
He wore buttons even on days he wasn’t going anywhere, caring he was stylish and in fashion.
She jotted that down as important to remember too as she bumped into his shoulder and then looked up at him. “I’m just saying in a roundabout way that we all have choices. It’s why I think love isn’t so much an emotion as a choice.”
He buttoned his shirt as she dressed. For a few seconds they were quiet, but then he asked, “What if you’re wrong though and love isn’t a choice but an emotion?”
Fireworks sounded off in her brain. Her skin became prickly but she tried to ignore it as she shook her head and countered, “Did you start believing in it now?”
He sat on the bed and stared at her curves, his eyes dark. “I like playing "what if" questions once in a while. So please answer—what if it isn’t a choice?”
She zipped the dress at her side and the silky fabric floated beside her as she sat next to him. “I’ve never liked "what if" as often the conversation goes into silly areas that never happen.”
“Indulge me then.” He took her hand and kissed it.
She folded her fingers around his. If he wanted her to say she was suddenly in love then she couldn’t. He wanted honesty and she wasn’t sure what she felt other than she liked him—a lot. Maybe they’d work as a team, and she didn’t want to ruin that.
But the smell of him was woodsy and manly and sexy all mixed in his cologne. She licked her lips and could taste him still though he was beside her. “Okay, so if love isn’t a choice and it is an emotion, then we’re both stuck as we are and need to make the best of it. You said divorces are near impossible and we’d have to approach the crown.”
“I said that?” His eyes widened.
Fair. She gently tapped his side for being exact when she said, “No, but the contract did.”
He smiled and patted her hand. “You remembered all the details?”
Stephano stood and adjusted his gray pants that fit his body perfectly.
She followed and checked her face in the mirror by the door. Her waterproof mascara hadn't smudged and she'd reapplied her eyeshadow in the bathroom. Whatever he planned for the day, she was ready. Rossie kept her voice level and steady as she said, “I always remember important details and that struck me as important. So it’s better that we trust each other and make the best of this.”
He winked at her but then led her out of the bedroom. “I am surprised every time we talk about this.”
She stopped suddenly and asked, “Why?”
“You were successful and put together.”
Now he’d said that multiple times and she let out a small sigh as she smoothed his shirt to get out a wrinkle. “And you’re even more successful and put together.”
He stopped her by placing his hand over hers. “I was jaded and thought that marriage was going to ruin my life.”
But now they had a shot. Stephano was nothing like what she thought he’d be and instead everything a man should be as she walked beside him again. Her heart thumped with every step. “You were ready to marry the next girl you met so I can see that being scary.”
He reached out and took her hand. “And you were about to marry a man not worthy of you.”
The spark he inspired in her made her body come alive. She ignored the heat and held a little tighter. “You got me there. But luckily I escaped in time and then met you.”
He stopped and stepped in front of her. He glanced down into her eyes and her heart beat wildly as he said, “Rosalind, I don’t know if there is such a thing as love.”
But there might be. Maybe. She couldn’t say that. Not yet. Instead she glanced at his chest and said, “We’ve discussed that.”
“But?” For a second she heard the whisper in her heart that said I love you. But that was silly.
She laughed it off. “Oh, there is a but now?”
He came closer and their bodies touched. Goosebumps grew everywhere as he said, “If there is such a thing as love, I hope the woman I love turns ou
t to be you.”
If they were still in their room and not in the hall, she’d unbutton his shirt. If she could be anyone’s princess it was his. But she held still and asked, “Because I’m your wife?”
“Because you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met and I want to make you happy.” He lowered his head.
Her eyes fluttered as he came near and her arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Keep talking like that and we have a real shot that whatever this is between us works.”
For once she was happy and it wasn’t because of anything she’d done. Stephano was amazing and if he loved her then she’d have everything she ever wanted.
Stephano came out of the shower and pulled on navy blue pants and another white button-down shirt from his closet. Rosalind slept still, her dark brown hair tumbled around the pillow. Last night he’d pleasured her body, multiple times, so she had to be exhausted.
As he looked into his closet, he realized he had mostly white shirts and little variety compared to half the closet where his staff bought his wife various colors.
As a teenager he’d been the most fashionable male out there, but as an adult, he gravitated toward the white shirt that signified business. His father had always been colorful and acted like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Stephano, in his youth, had partied with his friends and occasionally dated women he’d never consider marrying. Rosalind would have easily caught his eye if he’d met her years ago.
Her thick dark hair was beautiful and her smile was just as hypnotic as her kisses were electrifying.
He buttoned his shirt and found a pair of shoes. While she slept, he’d order her brunch as the Americans called it. The sun was high in the sky now.
However, as he slipped on his shoes, Rosalind’s hand brushed against his arm. He turned and she stretched her arms.
Her face glowed and he couldn’t turn away as her naked chest caught his attention.
Once she finished stretching, she asked, “Stephano, can we return to Paris today?”
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