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“Thank you.” His voice was clipped. Setting the papers down on the end table, he signed them without another word.
Hallie wondered what he was thinking. His handsome face seemed closed off, remote.
A rush of insecurity went through her. Were they making a mistake? In settling for a loveless marriage, were they just being practical—or were they selling their souls?
She swallowed and looked up at him. “Cristiano, are we doing the right thing?”
Straightening, he stood over the glider, looking down at her and the sleeping baby in her arms. His voice was cold. “What do you mean?”
“Settling for a loveless marriage...”
“Don’t second-guess it,” he said harshly. “The decision is made.”
He turned away.
“Where are you going?” she said, astonished.
Cristiano stopped at the doorway, his handsome face in shadow. “I have work to do.”
“Tonight?” Hallie yearned for him to give her reassurance—a kind word, a smile. “Can’t you take the evening off? Tomorrow’s our wedding.”
“I have taken too much time off already. There are details to finalize before I leave New York.”
“But—”
“Get some rest. After the wedding reception, we’ll leave for Rome.” His voice was brusque, as if she were one of his employees and he was giving her instructions. “You know how to order room service. I’ll see you in the morning.”
With that, he left, closing the door behind him.
Hallie shivered, looking out the window into the early-evening light, cradling her sleeping baby in her arms.
She should have been proud of herself for standing up to him over the prenuptial agreement and setting her own terms. Instead, she felt as if she’d just agreed to the terms of her employment.
Stop it, she told herself angrily. Once they were married, they’d be a family. Jack would have a secure home. His childhood would be happy, as Hallie’s had been.
But something didn’t feel right.
With a deep breath, Hallie pushed the feeling away. Tomorrow, she would leave the only country she’d ever known and set off into the unknown.
Tomorrow, she would be Cristiano Moretti’s bride.
* * *
“Do you, Hallie Jane Hatfield,” the judge intoned, “take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Cristiano looked down at Hallie as they stood in a quiet, elegant salon on the third floor of his hotel, with chandeliers, a frescoed ceiling and high windows that overlooked the wide avenue below.
“I do,” she said, her face pale.
Cristiano’s eyes traced over her voluptuous figure in the deceptively simple ivory satin wedding gown. Her dark hair was pulled back beneath a long, elegant veil. She held a bouquet of pink roses. Her beautiful brown eyes were emotionless.
“Do you, Cristiano Moretti, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” he said, and marveled that he didn’t have trouble speaking the words. He’d always thought making a lifetime commitment would feel like facing a firing squad. But he felt nothing.
Everything about this wedding had been easy. His executive assistant, Marcia, with the help of the Campania’s stellar wedding planner, had pulled the ceremony together in twenty-four hours, so quickly and quietly that the paparazzi had no idea.
Just a few guests were there to mark the occasion. Hallie’s two best friends were bridesmaids, each dressed simply in blue and holding a single rose, as requested by the bride. Two babies were also in attendance—tiny newborn Esme, the daughter of the redheaded bridesmaid, and Jack, who was dressed in a miniature tuxedo and held by the other bridesmaid, the pregnant blonde.
