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She was wrong.
“I earned a billion-dollar fortune. For her.”
She could still hear the raw huskiness of Santiago’s voice when he’d told her the story of the woman he’d once loved with all his heart. The night of their engagement party, all her rationalizations had fallen off a cliff.
Santiago did know how to love. Her stomach churned now as she stared out the window at the waking city. He’d once loved a woman so much he’d spent literally years trying to win her, just like in the fairy tales Belle used to read her brothers when they were little. A peasant boy proves his worth by killing a dragon or vanquishing an army or sailing the seven seas to win the hand of the fair princess.
Only Santiago hadn’t won his true love. Instead, the princess had just been one more privilege he was denied because he’d been born the bastard son of a maid. And everything he’d done to prove he didn’t care about his father’s rejection—from buying the historic ranch in Texas, to building a world-class art collection, to amassing a bigger fortune than him—only proved the opposite.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself desperately. It all happened long ago. The woman had married his elder brother and they all lived in Spain, on the other side of the world.
But here in New York, the fairy tale was different. Belle was the peasant, and Santiago the handsome, distant king. She’d have given anything to win him. Slay any dragon, conquer any army. But how?
She might bear his child, but would she ever claim his heart?
Belle looked back at Santiago, still sprawled across their bed. The cool light of dawn was starting to add a soft pink glow through the windows. Her eyes traced the contours and outlines of his muscular, powerful body, with the white sheet twisted around his legs. She longed for him to be hers, really hers.
And in a way, he was. She would be his wife. His partner. His lover.
But never his love.
Going to the en-suite bathroom, she took a long, hot shower, trying to get the anxiety out of her body, and the growing fear of marrying a man she loved, but who would never love her back.
A man who, for all she knew, was still in love with that woman from long ago.
Maybe our baby will bring us together, she tried to tell herself, but she knew this was a delusion. Santiago would be a caring father, and he’d love their daughter. That didn’t mean he’d feel anything more than respect for Belle as a partner. Anything more than desire for her in the night.
He would never let her in his heart. He would never slay dragons for her, sacrifice his life for her, as he had for that beautiful Spanish woman long ago.
Getting out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a white fluffy robe. Wiping the steam off the glass, Belle looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, but her eyes were suddenly sad.
She looked down at the enormous diamond ring sparkling on her left hand. As ridiculously impractical as it was, as heavy and cold, it was beautiful and special. He’d picked it out just for her. Didn’t that mean something, at least?
When she came out into their bedroom, Santiago was gone. He’d told her he would be at the office until shortly before their candlelight ceremony was due to begin, at seven, but she’d somehow hoped he would change his mind and be with her, today of all days. She was desperate for reassurance about their upcoming marriage. She was suddenly terrified she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life, and that she wouldn’t be the only one to suffer for it.
Right or wrong, she told herself, the choice has already been made. I’m marrying him today.
But the day passed with agonizing slowness, with too much time for her to worry. She saw her brothers at breakfast, right before the two young men set out to see the Statue of Liberty and Empire State Building. She got one last checkup from her obstetrician, then finished last-minute wedding details.
In the late afternoon, it was finally time. She went to her closet and stroked the empire-waist wedding gown of cream-colored lace, tailored to fit her eight-months-plus pregnant belly. She’d found it at a vintage shop in Chinatown, and loved it.
She took a deep breath.
Smoothing rose-scented lotion over her skin, she put on her wedding lingerie, an expensive confection of white satin bralette, panties and white stockings with garter belt. Any moment now, Letty would be here to help with her hair and makeup. Belle would have to somehow pretend to be a blissfully happy bride, hiding how scared she really was that she was doing the wrong thing, permanently giving her life and heart to a man who would never love her back.
I’m marrying him for our daughter, Belle told herself desperately. But would her daughter grow up thinking it was normal for married parents not to love each other? That it was expected and right, to live without love?
Belle felt like she was hyperventilating as she went to the huge closet and took the beautiful wedding dress from the hanger. She heard a hard knock at the door.
Expecting Letty, she called, “Just a sec!”
But the door was flung open. Belle turned with a yelp of protest, trying to hide her half-naked body with the wedding dress. Then she gasped.
“Santiago! What are you doing here? Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride in her wedding dr—?” Her voice cut off when she saw his face. “What’s wrong?”
“My brother...”
“Your brother? Is he here?”
