Her Wedding Night Surrender. Clare Connelly

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СКАЧАТЬ compressed his lips, his eyes studying her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide, her lips slightly tremulous. Fascinating. Was that because she was annoyed? Or were more pleasurable emotions fuelling her physical response?

      ‘Si.’

      She expelled a shaking breath, nodding slowly. ‘So we’ll get married?’

      ‘There are a few other matters to consider,’ he said quietly, the words thickened by emotion.

      ‘Such as?’

      ‘Your appearance.’

      She froze, her eyes shocked into clashing with his. Arcs of electricity shimmied and sparked between them. ‘You mean how I look?’

      His lips twisted into a tight, displeased smile. ‘That is generally what a person’s appearance means, is it not?’

      She nodded, moving further away from him. She needed breathing room if she was going to keep a level head about her—particularly given this subject matter.

      ‘What about it?’

      ‘No one is going to believe I chose to marry you.’

      He said it simply. So simply that she believed he hadn’t meant to wound her.

      ‘Why not?’ She narrowed her eyes, hoping her face wasn’t showing the effects of the cruelty his words were lashing her with.

      ‘Because you’re nothing like the kind of women I date. And, as you so rightly pointed out, there’s more than enough images of me with that kind of woman available to anyone who cares to search for my name on the internet.’

      As Emmeline had. And she’d seen glamazon after glamazon in those online images: tall, thin, voluptuous, and all stunning. Pietro Morelli had a ‘type’, all right.

      ‘I like how I look,’ she said, but her mind cursed her for the lie it was. Concealing her body and playing down her looks was a habit that had formed many years earlier, and she wasn’t sure she had any desire to revise it.

      ‘It would not take much effort,’ he said quietly, his eyes moving over her dispassionately, assessingly.

      A distant memory flashed before him of the first time he’d seen her, and the quick, instinctive desire that had warmed his blood before he’d remembered how young she was. She was naturally beautiful; why did she hide her looks?

      Fire and outrage burned in her blood. ‘No.’

      He compressed his lips, hiding the amusement that shifted through him at her determined recalcitrance. ‘If I’m going to go through with this I expect you to start dressing as if you actually have a figure and some kind of budget for clothing. It is what people will expect of my wife.’

      She stared at him, agog. ‘You’re joking?’

      ‘No, carissima. It’s no joke.’ His eyes roamed her face analytically. ‘This is Roma. Find a boutique and worship your body, then I’ll consider it.’

      His arrogance and his grim, scathing indictment infuriated her, but the realisation of her dream, the closeness of her escape were things so close she could smell freedom and liberation and she wasn’t going to let her appearance stop her.

      Not for the first time, though, she felt the sharp needling of injustice at the lengths she had to go to in order to earn what most people perceived as a God-given right. What if she refused? Refused not just his request that she start to pay attention to her looks but also her father’s suggestion that they marry? What if she took a credit card and just ran away?

      It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about it. But the thought of what it would do to her father had always brought her swiftly back into line. She couldn’t hurt him. But here she had a way to be independent and make her father happy. She just had to tick a few boxes along the way.

      ‘Fine.’ Determination and resilience still glinted in her eyes.

      ‘Good.’ He nodded crisply.

      He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Something small and white. When he handed it to her she saw it was a business card with a woman’s name on it: Elizabetta Ronimi.

      ‘This is my secretary’s number. She will organise the details with you. Any time in the next month is fine for me.’

      ‘You want me to organise our wedding?’

      He shrugged, as though it didn’t matter one bit to him. ‘I presumed you’d hire someone to do it, actually, but you’ll need to speak to Elizabetta regarding my availability and to co-ordinate your move to my villa. Si?’

      ‘Si,’ she mumbled wearily. ‘I suppose that makes sense.’

      ‘Good.’

      She stared at him for several seconds before the penny dropped that she was being dismissed. Colour warmed her cheeks as she moved towards the chair she’d occupied and scooped up her clutch purse.

      ‘I’ll have Remi take you home.’

      ‘Remi?’

      ‘My driver.’

      ‘Oh, right.’ She nodded, but then shook her head. ‘I can grab a cab,’ she murmured.

      He stopped her on the threshold to the room, his hand curving around her elbow. Warmth spiralled through her body, making her blood pound. Her gut twisted with something like anticipation and her mouth was dry.

      ‘He will soon be your driver too, cara. Go with him.’

      She didn’t want to argue. She wanted to get out of there by the quickest means possible.

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘Non ce di che,’ he said softly. ‘See you soon, Mrs Morelli.’

      Emmeline’s eyes swept shut as she stepped out of his office, one single question pounding through her brain.

      What the hell have I just agreed to do?

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE SUN WAS high in the sky and beating down over Rome, but Emmeline barely felt it. She was cold to the centre of her being, anxiety throbbing through her.

      In the end it had taken five weeks to get all the paperwork in order, including a swift visa application for Italy, helped in no small part by the last name that had always opened doors for her.

      But who was this woman looking back at her now? She had a growing sense of desperation as she studied her own reflection, doubt tangling in her gut.

      ‘Aren’t you glad we went with the Vera?’ Sophie asked, wrapping an arm around her best friend’s shoulders, her own expression not showing even a hint of doubt. ‘You’re a vision.’

      Emmeline nodded slowly. Sophie was right. The dress was exquisite. A СКАЧАТЬ