Modern Romance September 2018 Books 5-8. Heidi RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
her hand tightly, Stefano turned and waved at his friends, smiling like a happy bridegroom.
Tess knew a storm was coming. She could feel it building, like low-rolling thunder rattling toward them without mercy.
Her new husband intended to seduce her. To possess her. She couldn’t let him.
It was all she could think about during the wedding reception immediately afterward in the grand ballroom. She felt the hum of her body’s desire and grimly fought it, tooth and nail, until she nearly panted with exhaustion, even as she went through the motions of what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.
Tess forced herself to smile until her cheeks ached as she accepted the congratulations of her family and friends. She held poses for endless wedding photographs. She mechanically ate an elegant dinner of salmon, baby potatoes and asparagus in a lemon-butter sauce, followed by wedding cake. She sipped champagne as toasts were offered by strangers.
She forced herself to make polite responses as Stefano introduced her to many fashion industry insiders, including the extremely thin, severely chic Fenella Montfort, whom he introduced as the majority shareholder of the Zacco brand. He’d added with a charming smile, “Though we’ll talk more about that in London, won’t we, Fenella?”
“If we must,” the older woman said coolly.
As Tess’s desire fought against her howling fury, her mind scrambled for a way to escape this marriage. Could she go to Hallie and Cristiano for help? Ask them to assist her in filing for a divorce?
But even if Cristiano Moretti gave her all his man-eating lawyers, she knew that divorce would be an endless, bloody war, with Esme its greatest victim.
Lost in her own churning emotions, Tess barely noticed when, after she tossed the wedding bouquet and Lola accidentally caught it, the blonde turned pale and immediately dropped it to the floor. Lola practically ran out of the reception, pausing only to grab her baby’s stroller as other female guests fought for the bouquet in a flurry of rose petals. Normally Tess would have been alarmed for her friend.
But not today. Today nothing could reach her through her own haze of rage and fear.
Until this.
The tradition of the groom pulling the garter off the bride’s leg was supposed to be a harmless bit of fun, a sly nod to tradition to entertain wedding guests. Now, as Stefano knelt before Tess, who was seated in a chair, her heartbeat went to a thousand as he pushed up her full skirts. His dark eyes burned through hers as he slowly pulled the blue satin garter down her leg. His fingertips brushed against her bare skin.
Time slowed. She forgot her anger and fear. In this moment, all she could see was the hunger in his eyes, pulling her down into the flames.
Though they were surrounded by hundreds of strangers, it was just the two of them. Alone.
When he finally turned away, to toss the garter into the crowd of eager single men, Tess rose abruptly to her feet with a strangled gasp. She muttered, “I have to check on Esme,” and fled for the head table.
“I’ll come with you,” he replied.
As he followed her back to the table, Tess was careful not to let Stefano touch her, not even her hand.
When they reached the elaborate, flower-decorated table for the wedding party and close family, Tess was dismayed to find Esme sitting happily in her cousin Natalie’s arms. If the baby had been fussy, it would have been an excellent excuse for Tess to take her and go.
But go where? She could hardly return to her aunt and uncle’s apartment tonight. All of Tess and Esme’s meager belongings had been packed in two shabby suitcases and were already upstairs in Stefano’s hotel suite, where she was supposed to sleep tonight. Natalie had volunteered to babysit Esme until they collected her on their way to the airport in the morning.
“I can’t believe you guys did it,” Hallie said, sitting comfortably beside Cristiano at the table. She shook her head. “How on earth did you pull such a big wedding together in one day?”
“Ask Moretti,” Stefano replied smoothly. Reaching for his flute, he took a sip of champagne. “All I did was tell him to arrange it.”
“It wasn’t difficult, Zacco,” Cristiano said. “Not when the words you used were make it happen at any price.” The hotel tycoon sat with one arm draped over his wife’s shoulders, the other holding their adorable baby, Jack. He quirked an eyebrow. “There’s nothing we enjoy more at the Campania than unreasonable requests, as long as money’s no object. Even for a conniving bastard like you, Zacco.”
“Conniving?” Stefano bared his teeth into a smile. “You are the one who tried to cheat, by blocking my car in the race.” He shrugged. “If you wanted to win, you should have gone faster.”
“You could have caused an accident.”
“I knew you were a decent enough driver that you wouldn’t let that happen. Decent.” Stefano saluted him with his champagne flute. “Just slow.”
With a snort, Cristiano shook his head. “There are more important things in life than winning some cheap gold trophy in a charity race.” He stroked his wife’s shoulder. “It’s a foolish man who’s determined to win at any price.”
“So losers always say.”
The two powerful men glowered at each other, then suddenly they both laughed. Smiling, Hallie rose to her feet.
She looked at Tess. “It’s time for your first dance as bride and groom, isn’t it?”
The last thing Tess wanted to do right now was slow dance in her new husband’s arms. Her cheeks went hot as she looked down at her clasped hands. “I think we’ve had enough traditions for one day...”
“Oh, please,” Hallie begged. “I was planning to sing for your first dance. As a surprise.”
Put that way, it seemed churlish to refuse.
“All right,” Tess sighed. “Fine.”
“Yay.” Hallie looked down at her seated husband with a tender smile. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it.” Cristiano pulled her into his arms and lifted his lips to hers in a sensual kiss. “You’ll knock ’em dead.”
Watching the other couple, so deeply in love, Tess again felt a pang over what she now knew she would never have.
As Hallie hurried toward the microphone on the grand ballroom’s stage, Stefano held out his hand.
“Shall we?” he said, smiling down at her as if he hadn’t just blackmailed her into marriage and threatened to destroy her family and take her child away.
Glaring at him, Tess grudgingly put her hand in his and tried not to feel the electricity of his touch.
“And now,” Hallie announced over the microphone, “for their very first dance, the Prince and Princess of Gioreale!”
A hush fell across the crowd as Stefano led her, in a swirl of her white satin skirts, onto the dance floor.
To the outside world, Tess knew it must look like a romantic moment, the handsome prince in his sleek, well-cut tuxedo, the bride in a lavish wedding gown sparkling with diamonds, dancing in his arms. The truth was anything but romantic.
The orchestra began playing the music of the song Tess had requested, one made famous by Etta James and that she’d loved since she was a child—“At Last.” Hallie’s beautiful voice started singing the haunting words, telling the rapturous tale of long-lost love finally requited.
Yesterday Tess had dreamily thought it was perfect. Now, in her husband’s arms, all she felt was bitterness.
She looked up at his face.
“I hate you,” she whispered. “You know that, don’t you?”