His Merciless Marriage Bargain

Later, after their bodies had cooled, Gio kissed her, and then climbed from bed.

“I’ll send for coffee,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, snuggling down under the covers. “I take it you’ll be in your office the rest of the day, doing your usual calls and meetings?”

He paused in the bathroom door, his body beautifully hard and muscular. “In meetings, yes, but these are meetings with you.”

“With me?” She propped herself up on one elbow. “Why are we having meetings?”

“I should say appointments. Today is the day we’re meeting with the journalist from the big UK magazine, the one that is doing the story on our wedding.”

Rachel’s smile began to fade. “Gio, not today. Not yet. We haven’t even discussed our wedding. We haven’t even really planned the engagement party.”

“That’s just it. I think we should combine them. Why have two events? Why not turn the engagement party into a surprise wedding reception?”

She no longer felt like smiling at all. The big bubble of happiness inside her had popped, as well. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“There’s no reason to drag it out. Let’s wed and be done with it—”

“How charming.”

“It will be. We can make it fun and today will be fun at any rate. We have a florist coming, and a baker who specializes in wedding cakes.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have my wedding gown picked out for me.”

“I do have a designer coming. She’ll have some dresses and sketches.”

“Gio, this isn’t how a wedding is supposed to work.”

“Rachel, we agreed we were going to do what was right for Michael. This is the right thing for him.”

She ground her teeth together, holding back tears of frustration.

“Cara, darling, we will be happy.”

She said nothing, battling the lump filling her throat.

He sighed. “I don’t have time to coddle you now. The journalist and her photographer will be here in less than two hours. Do you want me to call in a hair stylist and have someone do your hair for the pictures?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Very well. Coffee is on the way. I’m going to shower and shave. Today is about looking happy. Do try to look happy, bella, okay?”

Rachel showered and washed her hair, and then while it dried, she spent a half hour with Michael, walking him around the house, showing him all the beautiful things there were to see—chandeliers and Venetian mirrors, gilded frames and oil masterpieces. “This is all your house, too,” she told him, struggling to smile, struggling to keep her tone light when her heart felt unbearably heavy because she felt tricked.

Gio had seduced her last night to further his agenda.

It hadn’t been a night of mad passion. He hadn’t been overcome by emotion. He’d known the reporter was coming today to get their “story” for the magazine, the story being important because it protected Gio’s business and all his valuable investors.

She was not important. She was just a means to an end.

Rachel returned Michael to Mrs. Fabbro, and then dressed in her brown lace dress and styled her hair, twisting it up and letting a few tendrils fall free to frame her face.

She could barely stand to look at her reflection. She was too upset, too hurt. Turning from the mirror she headed downstairs, arriving just as the journalist and the photography crew stepped through the front door.

Giovanni made the introductions and ushered everyone into the rose salon with the famous frescoes by Gregorio Lazzarini. The photographer set up his equipment while his assistant arranged the lights and white screen. The English journalist, Heidi Parker, immediately began asking questions, and Gio answered everything she asked with an easy, sexy smile. He looked incredibly comfortable, and when Rachel remained quiet, he slid his arm around her and kissed her on the brow, and then the lips, playing the part of the besotted lover.

“Where will the wedding reception be?” Heidi asked.

“The ballroom,” Gio said. “Would you like to see it?”

Heidi nodded and the photographer joined them. Gio opened the doors and stepped back. He didn’t need to say or do more. The room spoke for itself, appearing to stretch the length of the house, but that might have been an illusion due to the soaring ceiling with the Baroque frescoes and lavish gold paint.

It wasn’t hard to imagine it glittering at nighttime, all five of the lavish chandeliers lit, the crystals gleaming and reflecting light while guests mingled and danced below.

Rachel’s heart ached as Gio shared some of the wedding details. It would be without a doubt the most beautiful and fashionable event of the year. The reception would be extravagant, and Giovanni would serve the Marcello wine from his vineyard. But it wasn’t the kind of wedding she wanted. She didn’t want a show. She didn’t want fuss and extravagance. She wanted something intimate and warm and full of love.