“Have no fear, mia nipotina.” Her grandfather’s rheumy eyes were bright and wild. “We will get vengeance.”
Vengeance? Her mother hadn’t raised her to be so heartless. “No,” she said faintly. “That’s not what I want.”
“You will listen to me. I am your grandfather,” he demanded. “You will do as I say—”
“No.” She rose abruptly from the chair. “I will do as I think best.”
Vengeance wasn’t what she wanted.
But justice…
She recalled Amelia pleading with her the first day they’d arrived in Aquillina, begging her not to humiliate Maximo in front of the village, begging her to keep their quarrels private. But privacy had been her undoing. Maximo had charmed away her suspicions and fears beneath the force of his arrogance and strength…and unexpected kindness.
A prince. A handsome prince.
Coming for her. Saving her. Taking care of her and Chloe forever. Teaching Lucy to feel again. To be brave. To risk her battered heart one last time.
She’d known all along it was too good to be true.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. When she exhaled, all her hopes and dreams left her body with the breath.
Leaving room for only one thing.
The truth.
She lifted her chin.
“I’ll make Maximo confess,” she said. “Tonight, at the wedding, he will admit…to everything.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MAXIMO gasped when he saw her.
His princess stood at the other end of the aisle. Lucy’s dark hair was pulled back beneath a veil, held in place by the priceless diamond tiara that matched the necklace at her throat. Her white gown had long, form-fitting sleeves and a tight corset bodice that exploded into a frothy, wide skirt. Her red lipstick emphasized her full mouth, and the color matched the long-stemmed scarlet roses in her hand.
As if of one accord, the wedding guests rose to their feet with an appreciative gasp. Scores of the world’s rich and famous were packed into the tiny private chapel. But even the jaded movie stars, princes and prime ministers, politicians and billionaires were in awe.
Lucy appeared like a vision in the ancient chapel, lit by hundreds of candles on the cold, wintry night, bedecked by roses red as blood.
Goddess of winter, he thought with a lump in his throat. Donna molto bella. So beautiful it made him hurt to look at her.
Lucy.
Staring at her was like staring at the sun, and Maximo couldn’t take his eyes away from her.
What had he done, what had he ever done in his whole life, to deserve her as his wife?
Fate had forgiven him.
He needed no other proof than this. He’d never known another woman like Lucy. So beautiful, so loving, with such a pure heart. She’d made him see how rich and deep his world could really be. She was his partner—his equal in every way. No, he thought suddenly. Not his equal. She was more than that.
She was his heart.
I love her, he realized in shock.
He didn’t just want to make love to her every night. He wanted to wake up to her every day for the rest of his life. He wanted to possess her forever. And more…
He wanted her to possess him.