Ruthless Monarch

The destination is directly in front of us.

“We’re going to the park?”

“Kind of.”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Well, earlier you mentioned your parents never let you go ice-skating or do any of the fun things tourists do in the city. One of the things my mom used to do with me when I was a small boy was sneak me out of school, not tell my dad, and bring me into the city. She would then take me on a carriage ride.”

“Is that what we are doing?”

“I believe it is, Princess.”

16

Viviana

* * *

Princess.

And for the first time, I feel like one. This is not a nickname to mock or belittle me.

I’m still shocked by his idea.A carriage ride.

If you had asked me if I thought my husband had any romantic bones in his body, the answer would have been no.

But each second I spend with him, I’m starting to think maybe he does after all.

Together, with his arm wrapped around me, we make our way to the horse lineup.

He walks away from me as he talks to the driver. Once they settle the fare, he’s grabbing my hand and helping me up.

As we start our journey down the path and into the park, I turn my head toward Matteo. I’m still in awe of him for planning this, but what I’m mainly in shock about is that he opened up to me about his past.

Maybe there is more to him. Maybe this can be more.

I shouldn’t indulge myself in these stupid fantasies, but when he looks at me, I can’t help it. It is as if he can hear my inner rambling about him because he chooses that exact minute to turn his face toward mine.

Our gazes lock.

His pupils are large and dilated, and the bright streams of sunlight reflect off them. Bouncing around us like a dream come true.

Something is different about the way he looks at me. A hidden secret there. Something primal steals away in his stare, and pulls me in, wraps its tendrils around me, not allowing me to pull my own gaze away. It speaks to me of want, desperation, and most of all need.

Will he cross the imaginary divide?

My heart pounds in my chest as I wait, the passing seconds filling the tense space between.

Kiss me.

The voice in my head is foreign, but it begs him to close the distance. To wrap his arms around me. To bring his body to mine. In my thoughts, I can almost feel his lips. Almost taste his mouth.

They would be firm when they found me.

It would be intoxicating.

A cough brings me out of my haze, and I see Matteo staring at me still, and his eyes are locked on my lips.

While I was fantasizing about him, he had moved closer. Now we were close enough that one small bump of the carriage would have us kissing.

Hit a pothole. Please.

I can’t believe how much I want this. How much I want him.

It’s not just because he’s handsome.

Hell, he’s drop-dead gorgeous. But it’s also because of the way he treated me today. Everything he did.

It was like he was taking care of me.

No one has ever taken care of me.

Not true.

Ana did.

She took care of me.

Look how that turned out.

“Are you okay?” his voice cuts through my thoughts.

I blink, righting myself.

That’s when his hand reaches out, and his warm fingers cradle my jaw.

This is it.

This is the moment when Matteo Amante will kiss me. Really kiss me. Like a husband kisses a wife.

At the wedding, it wasn’t real. I hated him too much to appreciate it. But now, here in the carriage, in New York City, this will be our first.

His body starts to move, and now his face is a mere inch from mine.

Kiss me.

He’s about to. My eyes close of their own accord and my lips part in waiting.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

A phone.

My eyes jut open. No, not mine. It’s Matteo’s phone ringing. He’s pulling away now, his hand reaching into his pocket to grab it.

The moment now lost.

I miss it instantly.

“Speak,” Matteo commands, before he goes silent, a line forming between his brows.

He’s not happy. I swear it looks like he’s going to explode. There is a vein that is pulsating in his temple.

Suddenly the carriage feels like it's closing in.

“I will be there as soon as possible. Have Roberto pick us up at Sixtieth and Fifth. Ten minutes.”

He hangs up and won’t look at me. Instead, he’s breathing heavily and staring off into space.

“Is everything okay?”

He turns back toward me and he doesn’t need to say anything for me to know that something is seriously wrong. I don’t think he will tell me, but I can’t help but ask.

“No.” He doesn’t offer any clarification about what his answer means. I knew he wouldn’t, but I still reach out my hand, place my hand on his thigh and give it a little squeeze.