Kidnapping His Bride

Never give a woman breathing room, Matteo had warned him like he was an idiot—after the fact. Which proved that, yes indeed, Rafe was an idiot. Breathing room allowed the woman the opportunity to change her mind, Matteo went on to say.

For whatever reason, lately Rafe had grown afraid that Catalina had most definitely changed her mind. A man resorted to desperate measures during desperate times. This meant he needed to push forward and make their marriage happen. Soon.

Now.

“I hope like hell she wants to do this,” Rafe finally said, full of worry—and ire. “We agreed.” After the kiss, after she requested a bit of distance, he’d asked her if they would still marry, needing the confirmation. She’d nodded her answer, appearing too overcome to form words.

He’d run with that simple confirmation ever since. Again, proving he was an idiot.

“Her father and our father agreed a long time ago. There’s a distinct difference,” Matteo pointed out. “Arranged marriages are a thing of the past for our culture.”

“I realize that, but the agreement’s in writing. One of us would be breaking a legal contract if we backed out,” Rafe grumbled, jerking his attention away from the one woman who could keep him in knots like no other, so he could focus on his brother.

Big mistake. Matteo looked exasperated at having to explain himself yet again. It felt like they’d been having this conversation for years. “As if any modern court would uphold that stupid document.” He shook his head. “You could have any woman you want and you know it. I know it. Hell, Catalina Campioni most likely knows it too. So why in the world do you want her? You don’t even know her.”

Rafe was tired of having to explain himself all the damn time. Why did Matteo always want a reason?

Why did anyone want a reason? Wasn’t being in love with her enough?

Of course, most would laugh at him if he said he was in love with her, since they really didn’t know each other that well. But it was true. He’d been waiting for her to mature, to grow. To become the woman that wanted to be married to him. Who wanted to give him children. That she still didn’t want him hurt more than he cared to admit.

“Why wouldn’t I want her?” he said, his voice gruff. He needed to play this off to Matteo so he wouldn’t look like the sappy, romantic bastard that he truly was. “She’s been promised to me for years. She’s sweet and she’s kind and so damn beautiful, it hurts to look at her.” Without hesitation, he waved his hand toward where Catalina stood, not caring who saw him. He was tired of staying away from her. The “give me distance” agreement between them settled heavily in the crowded room, until it was all he could see and hear and think about.

Matteo watched him in that cool, calculating way his older brother had. As if he could see right through him, knowing when he told the truth or lied. Feeling like a little kid, Rafe wanted to squirm where he stood, but he held his ground. “You talk as if you own her.”

Rafe raised a brow. “Essentially, I do. I don’t mean to sound like an ass.”

“Then don’t,” Matteo said simply.

“Money was passed, Matteo.” Rafe lowered his voice. He hated discussing this. It made him uncomfortable. “You know this.”

A fact that was rarely spoken of, what with the way Campioni came to their father just before Giorgio Renaldi died, begging for financial help. Their father had given in since he’d always had a soft heart for his lifelong friend. They’d called it a loan at the time.

Of course, he’d never paid the Renaldis back. He’d even asked for more money after their father’s death, which Matteo had reluctantly agreed to and handed over. Rafe viewed the loan as an investment. Insurance that Catalina indeed belonged to him and no other.

A rather barbaric way of thinking, but he’d never been considered a man of modern thoughts when it came to women. Perhaps that was wrong, but it worked for him. In his not too-distant past, women were always playthings. Useful to find his sexual pleasure before he carefully set them aside. Not that he ever treated them poorly, oh no. He had a reputation of being most thoughtful when it came to his past lovers. Discreet and respectful were two words bandied about when spoken about him and his affairs.

But that was all they were. Affairs. There was only one woman he set high on a pedestal. A woman whom he firmly believed was meant for him, who would soon belong to him forever.

And that woman was the young, vibrantly beautiful Catalina Campioni.

Matteo chuckled and shook his head. “You cannot own a woman, Rafe. I know Catalina is young, but if she heard you talk about her like that, she’d probably be tempted to slice your balls clean off.”

Rafe flat out laughed. “I doubt that. Our impending marriage is exactly what she wants. She will be the perfect, quiet, submissive little wife. I can’t help it if you married a fiery woman who constantly keeps you on your toes.”

“I happen to like Paige that way.” Matteo patted him on the shoulder, a secretive smile curling his lips. “And if you think your future bride is a sweet, quiet sort who will do whatever you tell her to, no questions asked, then you have another thing coming.”

Studying Catalina again, Rafe let his gaze linger. Her long, dark brown hair fell far past her shoulders, shiny and straight to the middle of her back. The sleeveless turquoise dress she wore accentuated her slight curves; the short skirt emphasized the length of her impossibly long legs. She laughed at something her sister said, turning her head so she could scan the room, and their gazes snagged. Held.

He stood straighter, refusing to look away, and she didn’t look away either. The smile fell from her lips, replaced with a worrisome frown that produced an adorable little wrinkle between her brows. She cut her gaze from his quickly, resuming her conversation with Annalisa.

Within seconds, he received a disapproving stare from the sister and he quickly turned his attention to Matteo, icy dread slipping down his spine.

He despised her censure-filled stares. Would rather put their unwanted encounter where it belonged—firmly in the past. Annalisa looked at him as if he were a squashed bug on the bottom of her shoe and Catalina appeared ready to bolt.

“I honestly don’t understand it, but if you want her so badly, perhaps you should give it a try between the two of you,” Matteo said. “But why have you avoided her the last year or so? You do know that I and the rest of the family assumed the two of you would be married by now. At the very least, publicly engaged and with a firm wedding date. But I suppose that’s what I get for assuming.”

Hell, he was so tired of the lectures and the warnings and the questions and the flat out “don’t do it” statements. His relationship with Catalina wasn’t simple. For the last year he’d tried to respect her request for needing time. As the months went by, he grew more and more impatient.

He wanted to marry and bed her—quickly. Relenting and giving in wasn’t normally part of his personality, but when it came to Catalina, he didn’t do things as normal. How could he refuse that pretty face, the sweet voice begging for some time to think? The taste of her lips had still been on his tongue when she made her request. The pleading look in those beautiful eyes of hers had been his undoing.

The happiness that had lit her face when he agreed to her request had sent arousal spiraling through him. She’d gone to him and stood on tiptoe, delivering another one of those chaste kisses upon his lips before she slowly pulled away.

He’d grabbed her by her tiny waist and kissed her thoroughly, her lips parting easily for him despite her obvious reluctance. She’d stiffened in his arms, her hands pushing at his shoulders for the merest of seconds before she’d melted against him. Falling perfectly into the kiss as if she couldn’t resist.

That had done it. He’d known then they were made for each other.

But still he’d waited. Like a fool.

Tonight, though, he was done. The waiting was over.

Catalina belonged to him and no other. And she needed to realize this fact.

Now.

“God, I can’t stand him. Look at how he’s watching you. As if you belong to him like his own personal toy and he’s about to come over and stake his claim. Sickening.” The disgust in her older sister Annalisa’s voice was more than obvious. She’d never contained her dislike for Rafael Renaldi or Catalina’s tenuous link to him.

Cat had grown used to that link over the years. As a child, she’d found her potential future with Rafael quite romantic. Knowing that one day, she’d be married off to one of the handsomest boys she’d ever seen? No protesting on her part.

As she’d become a teen, she found herself completely enamored of the charming, enigmatic Rafe. After bragging about her future and earning too many questions and even mocking laughter, she’d kept their arrangement a secret from her friends. Had closed herself off to any potential teenage boyfriends—and there had been quite a few who’d come around, interested in seeing her, talking to her. Dating her.

She’d turned them all away, never telling them why. How she wished she could tell them she was promised to someone else. Someone older and more mature, who would someday be ready to take her hand and make her his bride. In her mind, body and spirit, she was already taken.