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Michael was theirs. He wasn’t Juliet’s any longer, nor was he Antonio’s.
They were both gone. They would never return.
“We will love him and protect him,” Gio said, one hand slipping up over her neck, his fingers spreading across her jawbone, cradling her face as if a jewel or flower. Every place he touched tingled, her skin flushed and sensitive. “We will not be destructive or selfish. We will put aside our differences and do right by our son.”
She stared up into Gio’s brilliant blue eyes, seeing him, all of him, not just his dark good looks, but his heart. His fierce, hard heart. He was brutal and relentless and he’d smashed her hopes and dreams. “I loved you,” she said numbly. “And I gave you my heart, but I’ve taken it back. It’s not yours. It will never be yours again.”
His thumb stroked her cheek as it met the edge of her mouth. “We can work through this. And we will, after the wedding.”
Her lips quivered at the caress. He stroked down again, lingering at the curve of her mouth. She didn’t know where to look. She certainly couldn’t look into his eyes, not anymore, and so she stared at his mouth and chin, her chest filled with rage and pain. Why had she ever come to Italy? Why had she thought that Giovanni would be the help she needed? She closed her eyes to keep tears from forming. “I won’t forgive you.”
“It’s not as bad as that, il mio amore.”
“It is as bad as that,” she corrected, trying to pull away.
He didn’t let her. He held her, and then he pressed a kiss to her forehead, the kiss careful, gentle, far too kind. “Our guests are waiting. I will help you put your veil back on, and then let’s go finish what we have begun.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SHE FELT WOODEN during the twenty-minute ceremony, and then dead during the reception.
It was all a blur. The meal. The toasts. The music. The cake.
She didn’t even remember stepping on to the ballroom floor for their dance. She couldn’t feel her legs. Couldn’t feel anything but Gio’s hand on her side, his hand on her back, his hand on her arm as he steered her here and there, from one place to another, keeping her moving, keeping up appearances, keeping it together.
And then finally, finally it was over and she was in her room, but it wasn’t her room anymore. During the reception someone had emptied the wardrobe in the blue guest room and taken everything out, taking all of her things out, putting them elsewhere.
Rachel sank onto her bed, the bed that was no longer her bed, her white full skirts pillowing up, and then fluttering down.
She didn’t have anything anymore. She wasn’t even herself anymore.
The door opened and closed. She knew without looking that it was Gio. She could feel his energy and intensity from across the room.
“This isn’t your room anymore,” he said quietly.
Hot tears filled her eyes. “You’ve taken everything from me.”
“But I’ve also given everything to you. My home, my name, my heart—”
“You don’t have a heart.”
He didn’t answer, not right away. He walked around the perimeter of the room, studying the blue silk wall covering and the enormous gold framed mirror and then the blue painted dresser with the pair of blue vases.
“If that was true, then I wouldn’t feel anything right now,” he said, lifting one of the blue vases and turning it in his hands. “I wouldn’t care so very much that I’ve hurt you. And I wouldn’t mind that you’re in here, alone, feeling betrayed and deceived.” He set the vase back down and faced her. “But I do mind very much. It wounds me that I’ve hurt you and ruined your wedding day—”
“Please stop. You’re just making it worse. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I just want to go home, to Seattle.”
“But this is your home now.”
“No.”
“Yes. And we are a family now.”
“Never!”
“And my wife, whom I love.”
She covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to lis
