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Unlike many grooms the night before they wed, Vincenzo Borgia, Vin to his friends, had slept very well last night.
He knew what he was doing today. He was marrying the perfect woman. His courtship of Anne Dumaine had been easy, and so had their engagement. No discord. No messy emotion. No sex, even, at least not yet.
But today, their lives would be joined, as would their families—and more to the point, their companies. When Vin’s SkyWorld Airways merged with her father’s Air Transatlantique, Vin would gain thirty new transatlantic routes at a stroke, including the lucrative routes of New York–London and Boston–Paris. Vin’s company would nearly double in size, at very advantageous terms. Why would Jacques Dumaine be anything but generous to his future son-in-law?
After today, there would be no more surprises in Vin’s life. No more uncertainty or questions about the future. He liked that thought.
Yes, Vin had slept well last night, and tonight, after he finally made love to his very traditional bride, who’d insisted on remaining a virgin until they married, he expected to sleep even better. And for every other night for the rest of his well-ordered, enjoyably controllable life.
If he wasn’t overwhelmingly attracted to his bride, what of it? Passion died soon after marriage, he’d been told, so perhaps it was a good thing. You couldn’t miss what you’d never had.
And if he and Anne seemed to have little in common other than the wedding and the merger, well, what difference did that make? Men and women had different interests. They weren’t supposed to be the same. He would cover her weaknesses. She would cover his.
Because whatever his enemies and former lovers might accuse, Vin knew he had a few. A lack of patience. A lack of empathy. In the business world, those were strengths, but once he had children, he knew greater sources of patience and empathy would be required.
He was ready to settle down. He wanted a family. Other than building his empire it was his primary reason for getting married, but not his only. After his last sexual encounter, an explosive night with a gorgeous redhead who’d given him the most amazing sex of his life, then disappeared, he decided he was fed up with unpredictable love affairs.
So, a few months later, he’d sensibly proposed to Anne Dumaine.
Born in Montreal, Anne was beautiful, with an impeccable pedigree, certain to be a good mother and corporate wife. She spoke several languages, including French and Italian, and held a degree in international business. Best of all she came with an irresistible dowry—Air Transatlantique.
Vin smiled at Anne now, standing across from him as they waited to speak their vows. She looked like Princess Grace, he thought, blonde and grave, with a modest white gown and a long lace veil that had been handmade by Belgian nuns. Flawless. A picture-perfect bride.
“If anyone here today has reason,” the archbishop presiding over their marriage said solemnly, “why these two may not lawfully be joined...”
There was a scuffle, a loud bang. Footsteps. From the corner of his eye he saw heads in the audience turn. He refused to look—that would be undisciplined—but his smile grew a little strained.
“...speak now,” the minister finished, “or forever hold your peace.”
“Please! Stop!”
A woman’s voice. Vin’s jaw tightened. Who would dare interrupt their wedding? One of his despondent ex-lovers? How had she gotten past the bodyguards? Furious, he turned.
Vin froze when he saw green eyes fringed with black lashes in a lovely heart-shaped face, and vivid red hair cascading down her shoulders, bright as heart’s blood. She stood in the gray stone cathedral, his dream come to life.
Scarlett. The woman who had haunted his dreams for the last eight months. The flame-haired virgin who’d shared a single night with him he could not forget, then fled the next morning before he could get her number—or even her last name! No woman had ever treated him so badly. She’d inflamed his blood, then disappeared like Cinderella, without so much as a damned glass slipper.
She was dressed completely in black. And barefoot? Her breasts overflowed the neckline of her dress. His gaze returned sharply to her belly. She couldn’t be...
