Italian Prince, Wedlocked Wife
He’d caught her again!
“No. I can do it.” Cheeks flaming, she hurried to put her daughter into the baby seat snugly beneath the roll bar in the back. She snapped her five-point buckle, then climbed in next to Maximo.
He gunned the engine, driving from the airport along a rough gravel road. She could see the blue water of the sea sparkling beneath the cliffs, see palm trees swaying in the warm breeze. Leaning back, she felt the Mediterranean sun on her face. Her hair blew in every direction in the roofless truck, and it felt like spring. Glancing at Maximo, she actually smiled. Before she remembered and her whole body became tense again.
Tonight.
He planned to seduce her tonight.
And she would resist. She had to. She could not give in to her desire. No matter how wonderfully he treated her or how easily his kisses could seduce her. She didn’t care what he said. If she gave hi
m her body, her heart would soon follow. All her defenses would fall like dominoes.
She’d fall in love with him, just like all the other foolish women.
In spite of knowing he was a coldhearted, vengeful playboy who planned to divorce her as soon as her grandfather was dead. In spite of the fact that he’d outright told her that if she chose to love him, he would break her heart.
Had she learned absolutely nothing from her last mistake of loving someone?
“You’re looking at me again,” he said. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you should forgive my grandfather. I’m sure whatever he did was an accident, or a misunderstanding. I’m sure he would never hurt anyone.”
“Always believing the best of people,” he said quietly. “You don’t know him, Lucy.”
“But—”
“No.”
They rode several miles in silence.
She suddenly looked at him. “You called me Lucy. Not Lucia.”
He shrugged.
“Why?”
“Because it’s what you prefer.”
It infuriated her how much that small concession pleased her. Why did she care? It was a meaningless gesture. Part of his seduction.
Pushing her wildly waving hair out of her eyes, she gave him an attempt at a smile. “I’ve never seen you like this before. Wearing jeans. Driving your own car.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m on my honeymoon.”
And he’d made his intentions all too clear. She shivered in the warm sun.
As the last burst of red sun began to fade behind the horizon, he turned down a dusty road past a grove of olive trees. At the end of the road, a little stone cottage sat on the edge of the sea cliff, surrounded by beeches and irrigated roses in bloom. Light shone from every window.
“This is our hotel?”
“It’s not a hotel,” he said briefly. “I grew up here.”
“I thought you grew up in Aquillina.”
“Only until I was twelve. After my parents and sister died, my aunt gave up her penzione and moved Amelia and me back here, closer to her husband’s family.”
Lucy straightened in surprise. He’d mentioned before that he had no family, but she hadn’t known…hadn’t realized…