His Merciless Marriage Bargain
She turned her head and looked at his darkly handsome profile and felt everything inside her tighten and flip.
He was beautiful. There was no denying it. But that wasn’t a good thing, not in this instance, because honestly, he was too beautiful for her. And he wasn’t just ridiculously handsome, he was also brilliant and successful. Wealthy beyond belief. Women like her didn’t get men like him. No, Gio was the kind of man Juliet snagged, the kind of man who wanted perfection on his arm. Even dressed in an expensive gown and draped in velvet and fur and jewels, she wasn’t perfection. She wasn’t even close.
He would not be happy being married to her. He would resent her, and that would be intolerable… It would break her heart.
Gio didn’t know what happened, but something did. One moment Rachel was happy and relaxed, leaning into him, and then the next she’d become stiff, her slim shoulders hunched, head bowed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she answered.
“Something has upset you. You’re sad.”
She lifted her head but couldn’t quite look him in the eyes. “This is a mistake, you know. All of this.”
“The boat ride? The earrings? What?”
“The gifts, the date, the proposal.” Her voice cracked. “The marriage. You would hate it, and I would hate it, and we’d be miserable, trapped together, and I can’t do more misery. I’ve had enough misery and enough guilt to last a lifetime.”
“What do you feel guilty about?”
“What don’t I feel guilty about?” He saw her lift a hand to the gentle sway of her emerald earring. “And then you buy me these beautiful things as if I deserve them, but I don’t. I am not who you think I am, and I am not someone you will be happy with. Please, just let me take Michael home. Please—”
He silenced her anguished words with a kiss, not to stifle her, but to try to comfort her. He kissed her deeply, melting her resistance, kissing her until she was no longer stiff and chilled, but warmly pliant, her body pressed to his.
Aware that they were no longer moving, he lifted his head. Her dark eyes still glittered with a hint of tears, but something else, too. “I don’t know what you’ve done, or why you feel guilty, but I don’t believe it’s as bad as you think,” he said quietly.
She struggled to smile but failed. “Your fiancée…why did you fall in love with her?”
“She was beautiful and glamorous and exciting.”
“I’m none of those things.”
“Thank God you are not shallow or superficial. We wouldn’t be marrying if you were.”
“Not even for Michael’s sake?”
“No. I’d take him from you. I’d sue for custody and be done with you.”
“Without a hint of remorse?”
“With absolutely none.”
His candor surprised her. She blinked at him, her dark eyes wide, expression bemused, and then the confusion lifted and she laughed. “You sound like a dreadful man.”
“I am.” And then he kissed her lightly before releasing her. He rose and stepped from the gondola and extended his hand to her. “But if anyone can manage me, it’s you.”
She’d felt distraught just a few minutes ago and yet he’d somehow turned the moment around, dispelling the shadows, first with his kiss, and then with his words.
She didn’t know how he did it, but she was grateful. Rachel gathered the billowing cape and put her hand into his, and stepped from the gondola onto the pavement. However, as she stepped out, her high heel caught in the hem of her long lace gown and she lurched forward, losing her balance.
Gio was there, though, his hands circling her waist, preventing her from falling.
He used the momentum to draw her against him and hold her there. She exhaled hard. One moment she was tumbling through space, and the next she was in his arms, pressed to his hard frame, feeling every bit of his sinewy strength.
She ought to pull away, and yet for the first time in ages she felt safe. She felt supported. She wasn’t alone.
It crossed her mind that she didn’t want or need the jewels and gowns, but she wanted him. She very much wanted him: heart, mind, body and soul, and she was ready to be seduced, ready to feel more, and have more, and be more. And so she stood there, letting his warmth penetrate her long black cloak, penetrate her tingling skin, piercing all the way to the marrow of her bones.
If he kissed her now, she’d kiss him back. If he kissed her now, she would reach out and clasp his nape, her fingers slipping into his dark crisp hair. She’d stand on tiptoe and savor the feel of his lips on hers. She’d taste him and explore his mouth the way he explored hers. She would take advantage of the opportunity to feel, wanting to feel every nuance possible.