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“I’ll marry you.”
“What happened to the emphatic no from earlier?”
“I was shocked. In shock. I wasn’t prepared for something like that.”
“To be offered up as a replacement wife in your sister’s absence?” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing quickly.
“I wasn’t … exactly expecting that, no. I thought I’d come to the party, have a couple of drinks and go home. Wasn’t really anticipating acquiring a husband.”
“And yet you have changed your mind?” he asked, pacing in front of her, adrenaline surging through him, joining the unrest he’d already felt being contained in the walls of the castle in Santina. That he’d been feeling since he’d boarded his private plane, on his way to collect what could only be described as a ball and chain.
“We need this, don’t we? The marriage I …” He watched her throat convulse as she swallowed. “I have always known that I would face an arranged marriage of some kind.”
She spoke the truth. From the cradle they’d all known their marriages would likely be arranged by their parents. Because duty came first, the allegiance to the family name. To Santina. Alex had long been promised to Anna, a woman more than suitable to be the future queen of Santina. But that was before he’d gone rogue and set his sights on Allegra Jackson. And of course Sophia had been promised to Rodriguez. Natalia’s engagement was in the process of being arranged. She didn’t know about Matteo, but it was less urgent now that Alex was formally betrothed.
Before Carlotta had … Well, if not for Luca her father would have likely arranged a marriage for her years ago. As it was, she had been sort of taken out of the “dynastic union” running when she’d had her son.
Well, apparently not really out of the running. She was good enough to play second string. Good enough to marry the renowned rebel prince of Santa Christobel. A man who lived dangerously and loved often. Well, not loved. He made love often, according to the tabloids. A new woman on his arm every weekend to accompany him to Europe’s most exclusive parties. Fast cars, fast dates.
The kind of man who represented recklessness, lawlessness, total disregard for honor. A man who served his own passions. The kind of man she hated. The kind of man she was so easily drawn to.
“As have I,” Rodriguez said, his dark eyes unreadable, the little curve of his mouth still present, like it had been earlier. It was a kind of ever-present near-smile that made it look like he was mocking her. It made her stomach feel like it was being squeezed tight by an invisible fist.
She cleared her throat. “So, while I hadn’t really penciled a wedding into my day planner, it’s not a … it’s not a total surprise.”
What was her other option anyway?
Well, there was staying in Italy. That was a good thought. Hiding. But she didn’t know if it served any real purpose. The only person it really helped was her. It allowed her to lick her wounds in private. It allowed her to hide Luca from royal life. Something part of her wanted to do, but something she also knew wasn’t fair. He was a Santina. He was a royal. It was a part of him, and it didn’t do him any good to force him to deny that part of himself. No matter how much simpler it would be to just raise him as an ordinary little boy. Who wasn’t tabloid fodder. It wasn’t reality.
“I don’t suppose you really had other life plans either,” she said.
“I don’t plan. I live.”
“Well … I suppose that means you don’t have a woman back home you’re dying to see. Someone you’d prefer to marry.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Carlotta, I prefer not to marry. But I need an heir. One that isn’t a bastard.”
She flinched when he spoke the word. She hated that word. One used to label an innocent child, to make them suffer for the perceived sins of his parents. Did Rodriguez know about Luca? He had to know. So, he’d chosen the words to wound her.
“Why?” she said. “Do you have many? Children, I mean.”
“Me? No. I always use protection.” Such a throwaway statement. Spoken like a man who never thought about anyone but himself.
She gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t always work.”
“True. But in the event that a pregnancy had resulted, you can bet the woman involved would have told me. I’m rich. Titled. She would have wanted her piece.”
“You would have owed her a piece,” she said. “At minimum.”
“I’m not arguing that. My point is that, whether I want marriage or not, I need it.”
“Preferably to me.”
He looked at her, his dark gaze dismissive. “Because of connection to this family.”
“I didn’t seek to imply otherwise. It’s the only reason I would marry you.”
“Because your father told you to. That’s the reason.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “He has good reasons.”
“Fine. But you’re still doing it because he asked you to.”
“And your father has nothing to do with any of this?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, the light in his eyes turning black, deadly. “My father can hardly lift his hand anymore. He is weak. What I do, I do for my country.”
“Same goes for me. But my family is Santina.”
“Thank goodness mine is not Santa Christobel. Santa Christobel is better than the Anguiano legacy has been thus far. But I intend to do better.”
“And I intend to … be a part of it.” It was strange, lobbying for something she wasn’t certain she wanted. But she needed it. Everything else aside, her father was right. She had made mistakes that had cost the family. And he had covered for her. Had done everything in his power to keep her from being utterly humiliated and exposed.
In the scope of things, this wasn’t so very much to ask.
“Does it get boring?”
“What?” she asked, trying to ignore the glint of humor in his dark eyes. It made him seem … attractive. Well, he was attractive, glint or no, with his golden skin and dark hair that was much too long to be considered respectable for a man of his station. Chiseled jaw, a body that looked as though it would be hard like iron. It wouldn’t be impersonal or cold like metal, though. No, he would be hot….
She blinked, trying to reroute her thoughts. She didn’t do the man thing. Not anymore. Just acknowledging the speed and ease with which he aroused her was … horrifying. Even more horrifying was the strength of it. Why was it so hard to be good? To be the woman she was supposed to be?
“Being this noble, does it get boring?”
“Yes. It does. Which is why I practice it in small doses.” And throw it off altogether sometimes …
“Good to know that not even you are always respectable.”
“Not even close.” But she tried. She’d tried all her life. To ignore the fire that seemed to burn so close to the surface of her skin. To be the demure princess she was expected to be. It had been a battle all her life. One she’d lost completely when she’d met Luca’s father. A lifetime of practiced restraint reduced to nothing in just a few short weeks.
He inclined his head. “All right then, Princess Carlotta, you have yourself a marriage bargain. My plane leaves Santina late tonight and I intend to take my future wife with me.”
“I … I can’t leave from here. I can’t leave tonight.” Luca was still in Italy, with his nanny. So were all of her things. Her real things, not her princess trappings.
“Why is that?”
“Because I don’t live here at the palace. I don’t even live on the island. I live in Italy. My home is there, my … everything.” She didn’t know what stopped her from saying something about Luca. Maybe because he hadn’t mentioned him. The whole thing seemed so mercenary. So cold. Adding him to it … it just seemed wrong.
“Fine. We’ll stop in Italy on our way to Santa Christobel.”
Oh, yes, and pick up her five-year-old with Mr. Tall, Dark, Sexy and Imposing standing in the doorway with that mocking grin of his. No thank you.
“I can make my own way to Santa Christobel,” she said archly. “I need time to prepare.”
“Have a lover you need to cast off before we get married?”
She nearly snorted. She’d lived the past few years completely abstinent after only one, near emotionally fatal affair. “Oh, yes, a stable of them. You?”
“I don’t intend to cast anyone off.”
“Excuse me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t intend to cast off any lovers just because I’m getting married.”
Her stomach twisted. Men. They really were all the same. Cheating, lying jerks who only cared about pleasing their sex drives. “I hope you don’t think you’ll be in my bed then. I don’t share.”
A slow smile spread over his handsome face, teeth bright white against his tan skin. “I do.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t ask for what I don’t give.”
“Fidelity?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, I ask for fidelity.” I’ve never gotten it, but I’d like it. “And if you’re going to be in my bed, you won’t be in anyone else’s.” She couldn’t believe she was even talking about beds and sex with a man she’d only just meant.
It was making her face hot, and not, she suspected, from embarrassment. From that nearly six years of celibacy maybe. From the thought of a man’s hands, his hands, on her skin again. Kissing. Caressing.
She shifted and tried to ease the knot in her stomach with a deep breath. That was one part of marriage that wouldn’t be so bad.
Unless he’s actively sleeping with other women the whole time.
Yeah, that was a definite no-go for her. And anyway, contemplating sleeping with him was … he was a stranger and it was bad with a capital B.
“We will discuss this no more. Not now.”
She raised her brow. “Excuse me?”
“It is immaterial. Fine details you and I will work out later. For now, the real question is, will you marry me?”
He didn’t get down on one knee or anything, thank goodness, because that would have been just too much. He stood in front of her, arms crossed over his broad chest, a knowing smile curving his lips. He exuded confidence. Charm. That kind of cocky, arrogant sexiness that said he knew just what he could make a woman feel.
He wasn’t the first man she’d met who exuded those things.
He took a step toward her, his dark eyes trained on hers, and for a moment, it felt like the world had closed in on them. So that it was just the two of them.
Rodriguez didn’t touch her, he didn’t even make a move to touch her, and yet she felt like he had. Could feel the warmth coming from his hard body and she wasn’t afraid of him putting his hands on her, she was wishing he would. Aching for it.
“A simple question, a simple answer,” he said. “Yes or no?”
She met his dark gaze, her heart hopping in her chest like a caged bird making a bid for freedom. She opened her mouth to speak but her throat was dry. She swallowed, trying to find her balance, her confidence.
Trying to find the woman that knew all about men like him, who knew that charm was nothing more than smoke and mirrors; that sex, no matter how fulfilling or meaningful she might find it, was nothing more than a little bit of amusement for men like him, and that they would leave the woman to pick up the check. A week’s worth of fun for them, could mean a lifetime of payment for the woman involved.
It had for her.
And she would never be that stupid again. She would never again buy into the kind of sweet lies that could be issued from wicked, sexy mouths like his. Not even if she was married to the charmer.
Married. Was she really going to marry him? Could she really go back to her father and tell him she’d decided not to?
“Yes,” she said, the word weak, breathless. She cleared her throat. She didn’t do weak and breathless. Not anymore. She’d made the decision, she would stand strong in it. “Yes, I will marry you.”
CHAPTER TWO (#ud8600cf7-975b-5c5e-a579-a86ae2d7d58a)
HE WAS a small boy. He barely came to the top of Carlotta’s hip. Dark hair, the same green eyes as his mother.
His mother. Carlotta.
Dios.
He knew it, the moment he saw her bend and help the little boy from the back of the limo when they’d pulled up to the palace, knew from the moment he saw the boy’s face. That same sullen expression, the stubborn chin, he was hers.
He had inherited a child, along with a fiancée.
Part of him knew it shouldn’t matter. That it didn’t truly change anything. He and Carlotta had been planning on having children. He needed an heir after all. That he would be a father one day was, and had always been, a given.
Another part of him felt a kind of bone-deep terror that had been absent from him since he was a boy himself. He remembered that day, the day when his emotions had finally given beneath the strain of living a life beneath his father’s iron fist. The day his emotions had deserted him entirely.
Well, that fear he’d thought long gone was here now. Because of the boy. Reflected in the boy. He was afraid, his eyes wide on the castle in front of him. It couldn’t be his first time seeing a palace. His grandmother and grandfather were the rulers of Santina. He was a Santina.
Carlotta looked at him, her green eyes hard. “Hello.”
“Hola,” he said.
“Hi.” This from the boy.
Rodriguez looked down at him, swallowing, trying to bring some moisture to his suddenly dry throat. It seemed like the right thing to introduce himself to the boy. Did you introduce yourself formally to a child?
Annoyance mixed with uncertainty. Carlotta had managed to catch him off guard twice now. They were the only two times it had happened in his recent memory. This wasn’t a trend he liked.
He would just approach the chiild as he would an adult. “I am Prince Rodriguez Anguiano. What is your name?” That earned him little more than a wide-eyed stare from those green eyes.
“Luca,” said Carlotta. “His name is Luca.”
That she answered annoyed him, like she didn’t want her son speaking to him. It also made him feel a small measure of relief. Because it spared him from having to talk directly to Luca.
“Come with me,” he said, turning and heading to the palace.
