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That he’d changed his mind about only offering her one night was obvious, and part of her had wanted to ask him why. But after what he’d told her the night before, about his sister, she didn’t have the heart to push him for more. And anyway, maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe it was obvious why he’d changed his mind. Maybe, like her, he just wanted to take what they had together, where they could forget about real life for a while.
So she’d agreed. Without hesitation.
The honeymoon, as it turned out, had involved a couple of days where they only left Castor’s bedroom in the villa for sustenance. Then when their hunger for each other had been sated, Castor asked her where else she wanted to go.
Glory had no idea. She’d never imagined leaving LA and yet here she was on a private island in Greece, married to a beautiful billionaire. And when Castor suggested Italy, she said yes, because why not Italy?
She’d sent Annabel another email telling her that everything was okay and that she’d decided to extend her vacation by another couple of weeks. She’d half expected her sister to have seen the news about her marriage to Castor since the news sites were full of it, but Annabel had never taken much notice of celebrity gossip and her response, when it came, was only to hope Glory had a good time and to take care with her money.
Their first port of call had been Rome and since she didn’t have any idea what she wanted to do, he’d organised various private tours of the city including the galleries, the ancient sites and the shopping districts. Glory loved all of it. Just being in a different country and especially one as old as Italy was the most wonderful experience.
She discovered she loved history, the ancient sites in particular holding a fascination for her, so much so that Castor organised for a historian to come on one of the tours with them.
At first Glory had worried that Castor might not enjoy this as much as she did, because surely all of this had to be old hat for him. But he gave no sign of being bored. He seemed to enjoy the tour with the historian particularly, peppering the man with all kinds of questions, before turning to Glory and asking her what she thought. He was always asking her what she thought, in fact, and he always listened intently when she told him, as if her opinion mattered to him.
It made her feel important and valued, and maybe it was then that she realised she was falling in love with him. Or maybe it was in Venice, when he took her on a gondola ride only to chat to the gondolier for half an hour, somehow getting the man from only answering questions in monosyllables, to a full-blown soliloquy about his beautiful wife and his lovely children, and how he worried sometimes that he didn’t earn enough to care for them. As they left the gondola, without a word Castor gave the man a tip that left him speechless and made Glory’s heart squeeze tight.
Or maybe it was in Milan, where he gave her a Cinderella moment in an exclusive designer’s salon, having her try on gown after gown, and telling her how beautiful she looked in all of them. Before buying them all, much to Glory’s shock, because she was never going to wear them. She told him so and he nodded seriously, then turned around and donated all but Glory’s favourite to a charity who could sell the gowns off to make money for disadvantaged kids.
He was a good man. A very good man. Kind and thoughtful and generous. He was excellent company with a dry wit that she very much enjoyed, and even though he was quite serious, she found that she had the ability to make him smile after all. Rare, genuine smiles that she treasured like the gifts they were.
Really, Glory thought now as she looked at herself in the gown she’d chosen in Milan, it wasn’t any wonder if she was falling for him, because what woman wouldn’t? Especially when he was so irresistible.
She’d tried not to. Tried to tell herself that was a stupid thing to do, because there was no future for them, he’d been very clear about that. She might be married to him, but their marriage wasn’t real. And this honeymoon would be over in a couple of weeks, and then she’d go on with her life.
A life without him in it.
But she didn’t want to think about that, so she didn’t, preferring to live in the moments they had together and not wishing for something that couldn’t ever be. After all, he’d never promised her anything more and she didn’t have the right to ask for it. He had his own burdens to bear and she couldn’t add to them by demanding something from him that he wasn’t going to give.
How could he? When it was clear that what had happened to his sister ruled his life? She’d thought it would be something terrible and indeed it was, just as it was obvious that he blamed himself. He hadn’t said so explicitly, but she’d seen the pain glittering deep in his eyes. She understood what it was to feel responsible for another’s hurt.
That night she’d sensed he didn’t want to talk about it so she hadn’t pushed him, merely given him what distraction she could. But the look on his face haunted her, made her want to know more. For example, was this mission of his an atonement? Or was it a punishment? Or was it perhaps both?
Whatever it was, she couldn’t get it out of her head and she wanted to help him. But she didn’t know how.
You couldn’t help Annabel. What makes you think you can help him?
The thought was a cold one, so she pushed it away. Tonight he’d planned another Cinderella moment for her, a ball, and so she wanted to enjoy it, not depress herself with doubts.
The gown she wore tonight was of gold silk, wrapping around her body like the kind of gown a Grecian goddess would wear, and it fitted perfectly. A stylist had come to do her hair and make-up, which she loved, because it made her feel like a princess and she’d had so few princess moments in her life that she couldn’t help but enjoy it.
Castor had told her that he was going to wait downstairs for her and to take her time coming down, because he wanted to see her make a grand entrance.
Glory had never made a grand entrance to anything and she was a little nervous as she came to the sweeping marble staircase that led down to the mansion’s entranceway.
Castor stood by the front door waiting for her, dressed in plain, unadorned black evening wear, nothing to compete with the astonishing beauty of his face. The stark colour highlighted the golden strands in his dark tawny hair and drew attention to the smoky amber of his eyes. He looked like a god out of Greek myth and she felt the oddest sense of dislocation, because how could a man like that be waiting for her?
How could you have all these nice things when Annabel, who had to give up so much for you, gets nothing?
No, she couldn’t think those things, and besides, that’s why she was here, wasn’t it? So Annabel could get the one thing she’d always wanted.
These doubts were ridiculous, and she wasn’t going to think about them any more.
Putting one hand on the banister, Glory moved slowly down the stairs to where Castor waited.
‘I was right,’ he murmured, the look in his eyes catching fire. ‘You have the most appropriate name. Glory, you are glorious.’
She flushed, inordinately pleased with herself and not a little pleased with him too. ‘So are you,’ she said, coming to a stop in front of him. ‘Glorious, I mean.’
