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The card attached to the flowers simply had ‘Daniele’ written in bold handwriting. Paloma stared at his name and imagined him moving the pen over the card with a decisive flourish. Sweet heaven, she was mooning over him like the silly teenager who had once been infatuated with him.
‘It’s time to go,’ Laura told her. ‘I’ll scoot along to the chapel ahead of you.’
All day there had been the sound of helicopters buzzing above the castle, bringing guests to the wedding. But now dusk was falling, and the air was soft and still when Paloma walked through the castle grounds to the private chapel beside the lake. An ethereal mist hung over the water and added to her sense of unreality that increased even more when she stepped into the porch of the chapel. The inner door was ajar, and she could see the guests seated on chairs on either side of the aisle. On the floor were hundreds of candles lining the path to the altar, their golden flames flickering like fireflies.
The romantic scene made Paloma catch her breath. It was exactly how she would have planned her wedding to a man whom she loved. But this wedding was fake. When she was twenty-five and could take control of Morante Group, she would no longer need to be married to Daniele. A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat when she realised that she would have two divorces under her belt while she was still in her twenties. If she carried on at that rate, she might match her mother’s number of failed marriages.
Guilt and confusion froze her feet to the ground. She couldn’t go through with this charade of a wedding. It felt wrong to trick people like Laura, who had worked for hours to make her a beautiful dress, or her grandfather’s close friend Gianluca Orsi, who’d had tears in his eyes when he’d told her that Marcello had been proud of her. But once again, Paloma could not ignore the likelihood that she would lose control of Nonno’s company and his charitable foundation if she did not marry Daniele, who had the support of the board of trustees.
Her mind was spinning, and she half turned to walk out of the chapel when the tall figure of Prince Dragan joined her in the porch. ‘I believe it is usual for couples who are about to marry to suffer from last-minute nerves,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve never seen Daniele look so tense, not even when he saved me from a terrorist attack in Egypt.’ The Prince’s hawkish features broke into a smile. ‘He asked me to escort you into the chapel because your father and grandfather are sadly not here. I was unaware that Daniele was a romantic at heart, but he gave specific instructions for the wedding ceremony. The candles were his idea.’
Paloma took another peep through the partially open door and spotted Stefano Farnesi near the back of the chapel. Sitting next to him was an elegant woman who must be Daniele’s mother. She could not jilt Daniele at the altar, Paloma acknowledged. It was vital to both of them that the wedding went ahead.
Prince Dragan offered her his arm and opened the door so that they could step into the main part of the chapel. Her eyes flew to Daniele standing in front of the altar. He was resplendent in a midnight-blue suit that moulded his broad shoulders. He turned to face her, and even from a distance, Paloma felt the heat of his amber gaze sizzle through her as she walked towards him to seal their marriage bargain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DANIELELEANEDBACKin his chair and allowed the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses in the castle’s magnificent dining room to wash over him. The wedding dinner had been superb, much vintage champagne had been drunk, and toasts had been made to the bride and groom. Now the reception was coming to an end and some of the guests had moved away from the tables and were standing in groups, chatting. The tinkling sound of laughter drew his attention to Paloma, who was sitting beside him and talking animatedly to her friend Laura on the other side of her.
Paloma.His wife.It was odd how easily the two words sat on his tongue, and stranger still that the wedding band on his finger felt as though it belonged there. Daniele gave a slight shake of his head, but he could not forget the mixture of awe and lust that had swept through him when Paloma had walked into the chapel looking so beautiful that he’d clenched his jaw to stop himself from gaping at her like a callow youth with a serious crush. He’d managed to get himself under control for the ceremony, but when the officiant had pronounced them married and invited Daniele to kiss his wife, he’d almost succumbed to a primitive urge to throw Paloma over his shoulder and carry her off to bed.
Heaven knew what her reaction would have been, he thought wryly, remembering how she had used Krav Maga martial arts techniques to attack him at the farmhouse. Daniele doubted that his mother would have been impressed if he’d behaved like a caveman. She would have looked down her elegant nose and disassociated herself from her uncultured eldest son.
He had been surprised when he’d seen Claudia with Stefano Farnesi sitting at the back of the chapel. At dinner they had been seated at a table on the far side of the room and there had not been an opportunity or a desire on Daniele’s part for a conversation. Paloma had urged him to talk to his mother, but he did not know what to say to the woman who had been absent for most of his life. The truth, he admitted heavily, was that he felt nervous about meeting his mother, and the possibility that she would reject him again. Inside him there was still the little boy who had watched her drive away.
His phone pinged and he read a message before he leaned towards Paloma. ‘Will you excuse me while I go and find somewhere private to make an important business call?’ She nodded, and he left the dining room and went into a small sitting room across the hall. A fake wedding was not an excuse to interrupt his ruthless work ethic. Ten minutes later, he pocketed his phone, but as he was about to return to the reception, a woman entered the sitting room.
‘Hello, Daniele.’
‘Madre.’ Daniele’s gaze narrowed on his mother’s face. Make-up did not disguise the signs of age, or the unexpected vulnerability in her eyes. He had recognised her from a newspaper photo taken at her father Conte Farnesi’s funeral. But it was twenty-seven years since Daniele had seen his mother in person and he felt a mixture of emotions. There was anger, but also a deep sadness for lost time that could never be regained.
‘Thank you for inviting me to your wedding.’ She twisted her hands together. ‘You have done well.’
He gave her a sardonic look. ‘Does my marriage to the granddaughter of a marchese make me acceptable in high society, and therefore to you?’
She flushed. ‘I was not referring to your marriage, although your wife is exquisite and very charming. Paloma introduced herself to me a few minutes ago and said that you had asked to speak to me privately.’
Daniele tensed, realising that Paloma had set up the meeting with his mother. He would make it clear to her that being his wife did not give her the right to interfere in his personal life, he thought grimly.
‘I am grateful for the chance to talk to you,’ his mother said in a tremulous voice. ‘I have followed your career as it has gone from strength to strength. Each time I read about another of your successful enterprises, I wished I could tell you how proud I am of you.’
He shrugged, determined not to be affected by his mother’s surprising statement. ‘But you have not spoken to me for years. You could have contacted me at my company’s offices in Rome or Florence.’
‘I did not dare try to speak to you while my father was alive.’ When Daniele said nothing, his mother continued shakily, ‘It is only now the Conte is dead that I am free to do what my heart has longed to do since I had to leave you when you were a young boy.’
‘Youhadto leave?’ he questioned harshly. ‘Is it not the truth that you chose to walk out of your marriage because your husband could not give you the luxurious lifestyle you had been used to, and you were ashamed of me because my father was a common soldier?’
‘That’snottrue.’ Claudia clasped her hands together so tightly that the knuckles went white. ‘I can guess who told you those lies. Your grandmother Elsa never liked me, and she thought your father had made a mistake by marrying me.’
‘It would seem that Nonna Elsa had a point,’ Daniele said drily.
‘Please, Daniele.’ Claudia’s shoulders slumped. ‘I told myself not to hope that you would listen to me.’
Daniele watched his mother turn towards the door. ‘Wait.’ He exhaled heavily. ‘Come and sit down.’ He indicated an armchair, and when she was seated, he lowered himself into the chair opposite her. ‘I will listen.’
‘My father was a terrible man.’ Claudia darted a glance around the room and gave a strained laugh. ‘Even though I stood at his graveside, I am still afraid.’
‘Of what?’
