Danilo nodded slowly. His eyes seemed to see straight into my brain, which only made me more nervous. He reached for me and touched my arm, stroking up from my elbow to my shoulder over the thin fabric of my sleeve. I stiffened, even though the touch felt wonderful, but my body replayed other images. The truth was, I didn’t know the man in front of me. There was no beautiful memories, and the one major memory we shared wasn’t pleasant. The only thing I knew about him was that he wanted someone else, probably still my sister.
Danilo removed his hand from my arm and cupped my head before he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead as if I were a little child. “It’s been a long day. Get changed, and then we’ll go to sleep.”
Danilo didn’t want to touch me. Because it wasn’t me he wanted, not my body he wanted to claim, not my face he wanted to wake up beside. “Would you like me to get ready first?”
I almost preferred our painful first intimacy, anything was better than his ignorance, this feeling of being less than he wanted no matter how hard I tried to be enough.
I’d sworn to myself not to care, but I cared a lot. I wanted his desire, his love, his passion. Everything.
I nodded jerkily and walked into the bathroom, locking the door after me. I didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror, an occurrence that seemed to repeat itself lately. A bride in her beautiful dress with hopeless, jaded eyes. I’d always thought I’d be delirious with happiness on my wedding day. Even in arranged marriages, the husband usually desired the wife and couldn’t wait to claim her. But Danilo didn’t even want me in that regard, much less the way I wanted him. Searing kisses and ripped panties . . . a bitter smile twisted my mouth at my idiotic fantasies.
A maid must have laid out my nightgown for the night. It was neatly folded on a small stool in the corner beside the freestanding bathtub. A beautiful, sexy silk piece with lace trimming in red. A color that suited me very well, Anna had assured me. I slipped out of my wedding dress, realizing that this was it. The day I’d been dreaming about since I was a little girl had come and gone, and I felt horrible. Tears pooled in my eyes and trickled down my cheeks as I removed my garters and underwear. After a quick shower, I put on my nightgown and the matching lace panties. Looking into the mirror, I felt like a fraud in the sexy garment. The red was daring and seductive, meant to show Danilo what he now had. Instead, it only reminded me how hard I was trying. He wouldn’t care if I walked out naked, why would he care if I wore sexy lingerie?
Bracing myself, I stepped back into the bedroom. Danilo had removed his jacket and checked his phone. He put it down on his nightstand when he heard me and looked my way. Something flickered in his eyes, something that gave me hope, but then his disinterested gentlemanly mask was back, and I wondered if I’d imagined the flicker.
“Why don’t you go ahead and try to sleep. I’ll take a long shower. It’ll be a while.”
I walked closer to him, still hoping. He gave me a tight smile, barely looking at me as he went to the bathroom.
I’d loved him innocently, wholly, desperately with my stupid naïve heart.
Could I learn to hate him with the same passion?
It was a matter of survival.
I couldn’t take it. His disinterest, how he avoided looking at me as if the sight of me was repulsive, as if he couldn’t bear it for even a second.
“Won’t you claim me before someone else can? I thought Serafina’s kidnapping taught you a lesson,” I blurted. I couldn’t believe those words had come out of my mouth, but at the same time it felt good to release some steam. I felt like I might burst any moment.
He whirled around in the doorway to the bathroom, his eyes flashing with anger from the past. “What?”
“Just because I’m married doesn’t mean someone else won’t claim me. Don’t you want to mark me as yours?”
I felt almost lightheaded with despair. I didn’t want a repeat performance of what had happened at the party, but I didn’t want this passionless gentleman, either. I wanted passion and love, tenderness and lust. I wanted Danilo fully to myself. I wanted him to forget what was and realize what he had.
Danilo moved closer again. His nostrils flared, a vein in his temple throbbing. This was his weak spot: Serafina.
“Remo didn’t hesitate and look what he got.”
His anger flared even hotter. It was better than his blank expression—anything was better than that. He bridged the distance between us in two long strides, grabbed my upper arms, and pulled me against him.