“You didn’t invite your cousin, Cesare?”
“I changed my mind.” Alex’s expression became hard. “I barely know the man.”
“But he’s family!”
He shrugged. “He attended my last wedding, and it didn’t help anything. Besides—” his hand tightened over hers “—you’re my family now.”
So their butler and cook would be their only witnesses. Rosalie wished her great-aunt could have been there. Or anyone from her hometown. Or most of all, her parents—
But thinking of her past only reminded her of everything she didn’t want to remember. She lifted her chin.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Let’s keep the ceremony simple.”
She turned to Collins and Maria, praying they wouldn’t see her heart was crumpling inside her.
For my baby, she told herself, clutching the bouquet of red roses tightly. For my baby.
She flinched. Pulling back a hand from her bouquet, she saw a drop of blood on her finger. A single thorn, missed by the florist, had pricked through her skin.
“What is it?” Alex reached for her hand. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he wiped the blood from her finger. She looked at him in amazement as he tucked the handkerchief back into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. A handkerchief? Was he from the nineteen hundreds?
Still holding her hand, he brought it to his lips. She felt the heat of his breath, the caress of his sensual lips as he kissed the back of her hand.
She shivered.
Desire. That was what they would have, instead of love. Longing and lust. As their eyes met, her fear was silenced beneath the pounding heartbeat of desire, like a drumbeat that drowned out everything else.
Desire. His hand tightened on hers, and he led her up the stairs of the grand palazzo. He didn’t let go of her hand as they went into the small room where the official waited to marry them.
Rosalie barely listened to the Italian ceremony or the English translation. She didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to understand. All she had to do was make it to tonight. Then she’d let forever take care of itself.
Afterward, they signed the papers. An enormous diamond ring was added to Rosalie’s left hand. They kissed. They stood. And suddenly, Maria and Collins were congratulating them.
Just like that, they were wed. All her worries no longer mattered. She was his wife. Now and forever.
As they left the building and went out into the sunlight, Alex took her left hand with its heavy new diamond. He cradled it against his powerful chest, and she held her breath as her bridegroom looked down at her.
“Well, wife,” he said softly, “shall we go home?”
Before Rosalie could embarrass herself with a reply like Yes, yes, yes, or Oh, please, yes, Collins cleared his throat behind them. Alex looked back at the elderly butler. “Yes?”
“Your st
aff from the winery has a surprise for you, sir. They’ve rented out a nearby restaurant to celebrate your nuptials.”
A flash of annoyance crossed Alex’s face. “Tell them no.”
“Of course.” The butler bowed his head. “Though they’ve spent some time on it, sir.”
Maria, the cook, added something in rapid Italian.
“Alex,” Rosalie said. Putting off consummating their marriage was the last thing she wanted, but she could not imagine snubbing his employees after they’d made such an effort. “We can’t be rude on our wedding day.”
With a sigh, he said through gritted teeth, “It was very kind of them.” He looked down the street. Crowds had started to form, holding up cameras, straining to see them. “It seems the world has already found us.” He turned to Collins. “The reception is nearby?”
He pointed. “Across the bridge, signore.”
“Make sure the bodyguards are close when we want to leave.”