The Illegitimate King (Castaldini Crown 3)

“And may they be happy dreams,” Durante put in sarcastically. “Just for Clarissa’s sake.”

As they laughed, Gabrielle, Durante’s new wife, glided up in the background like a butterfly, homing in on her husband, her face ablaze with pleasure as she watched him enjoying himself.

Clarissa had met her a couple of times before her and Durante’s wedding, which had taken place before Clarissa had gone to the States for her mission.

She was the only one who’d noticed Gabrielle yet. And even though Gabrielle had eyes only for Durante, Clarissa started to smile. During their short meetings, she’d really liked the woman. She had great hopes that Gabrielle would turn out to be another great friend like Phoebe, her brother Paolo’s sister-in-law, who was now Leandro’s wife. And then, all Clarissa needed to love her was to see how happy Gabrielle made Durante.

Then she saw Gabrielle’s eyes fall on Ferruccio.

Clarissa’s heart faltered as Gabrielle’s smile and steps did. It froze as she felt Ferruccio stiffen and turn his gaze to Gabrielle, as if he’d felt her approach, her reaction at seeing him. The same reaction filled his eyes.

Clarissa didn’t know what it was. She only knew it was intense and instant. And it affected them both.

But it didn’t feel like attraction.

Could she believe that, because it didn’t feel like that to her? Or was she just deluding herself?

Confusion descended on her like a boulder as Gabrielle plastered her smile back on and hooked an arm through her husband’s, rubbing against him like a delighted feline. With a rumble of welcome Durante caught her, shared as demonstrative a kiss with her as the one Clarissa and Ferruccio had just had.

Introductions to the new king-to-be ensued. The king-to-be whose eyes were still filled with something she hadn’t suspected he was capable of as they surveyed her sister-in-law. Tenderness.

That shook her more than if she’d seen lust there.

Dio, what was this all about?

Soon the gathering disbanded, and he took her out to the verandah where they’d had their first fateful conversation.

She decided to get it out in the open. Before her head split open. She turned on him. “You liked Gabrielle, didn’t you?”

He looked taken aback for a moment. Didn’t think she’d notice, did he? Then he shrugged. “She’s very nice.” Then a slow, triumphant smile stretched his lips. “And you’re very hot—even more arousing than usual if that’s possible—when you’re jealous.”

“Are you trying to distract me?” she fumed.

“Only because you’re barking up a light pole, not even the wrong tree. And I’d rather spend our time together doing something useful. Like discussing your wedding night lingerie.”

“So I’m wrong?”

“Do you think you’re right?” he countered. “Do you think I was hit by a bolt of attraction to your sister-in-law?”

“N-no,” she admitted. “It didn’t seem like attraction.”

“Because it wasn’t. You know firsthand what I’m like when I’m attracted—and with every other inch of your body. Gabrielle is lovely and it was as lovely to see how much she loves Durante, how much happiness they share.”

The happiness we’ll never share? she wanted to cry out. Or is there hope for us? Your raging desire means something, doesn’t it?

Out loud she said, “So you were inspecting your friend’s wife to see if she’d pass your specs?”

“She passed his specs. And then some. Like you do mine.”

“D-do I? Do you really want this, Ferruccio?”

“I can show you right now what kind of…provisions I’m suffering beneath my tux so I won’t walk around showing the world how much I want this, mia bella unica.” She gurgled as her eyes clung to the bulge that had conquered all his…provisions. “If you want…solid proof, I can waive my decree to wait until we’re husband and wife, and unleash all the proof you need on your sanity-annihilating, potency-jeopardizing body. In fact, speaking of potency, maybe I’d better. Mine is in grave danger. Especially after that trick you pulled back there.”

“You started it!”

“And I’m glad I did. You’ll never cease to surprise me.”

“Look who’s talking!”

“I’m looking, and my insanity meter is nearing the red zone. So if you don’t want the whole palace to stay awake all night hearing you scream with one orgasm after another—since the sound-proofing I’m installing in our apartments isn’t yet complete—you should turn around and walk away now. And if you don’t want me to pounce on you wherever I find you during the coming five days, you’d better stay out of my hunting grounds.”

She gasped, turned around before she pounced on him and dragged him on top of her here and now.

He pulled her back. “Do you remember our first time out here?” She nodded, her head rolling against his muscle-padded shoulder. “I swore that one day I would make love to you in the exact spot where you stood and turned me down. And I will.” He let her go so suddenly that she swayed. “Just not tonight. Now run, before my mind gives out and we end up giving the attendees of my first official reception something far more historically shocking than the most passionate kiss they ever saw.”

She ran this time, her high heels clicking on the marble floor like the frantic heartbeats of an alien creature.

Before she could enter a quiet hall of the palace through an open French window, he called after her.

“For the wedding…layer on as much clothing as you can.”

She turned around slowly. “Why? It’s hot.”

“It will be—as hot as you can survive.” As she got his meaning, he was the one who turned around and walked away, like that first time, throwing over his shoulder, “Be as creative as you can be in the lingerie department. And most important of all, rest up, mia bella unica. You’ll need all the stamina you can get from now on, now that you’ll always be with me.”

Defiance shot through her. She might have been only test driven, but she was now revving and raring to go. He shouldn’t be the only one dealing out hormone-messing torment.

“Thanks for the instructions, my future liege,” she chirped, pseudo-swooningly. She waited until he stopped, turned to face her, challenge rolling off him in waves. Then she let her voice heat, deepen, thicken. “Here are your future queen’s instructions. No cologne or aftershave. I want to smell you. No…provisions. I want to feel your…proof. And though it won’t make much of a difference in five days, don’t get a haircut. Ever again. Until I tell you to. I want to feel my hands convulsing in a long, luxurious mane as you pleasure me.”