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Dara counted across the floating flower bombs—as she had so lovingly named them. She got as far as the third row before she noticed the problem.
She sighed. ‘They’ve doubled up on the colours.’
Mia’s head snapped up. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Right over here.’
She walked down the marble staircase, the click of her heels echoing on the hard surface. She came to a stop underneath the offending decoration. It wasn’t a major issue, but it was damned irritating now she’d noticed it. Mia’s quiet voice came from behind her.
‘Should I fetch one of the guys from the ceremony room?’
Dara shook her head. ‘The wedding is due to start in two hours—the ceremony room is priority.’ She smoothed down the front of her sleek red pencil skirt, trying to focus on everything but the mismatched flowers above her. Her eyes drifted upwards again.
Mia laughed. ‘I’ll go and get somebody.’
She disappeared out through the door, leaving Dara alone in the glittering winter ballroom.
The rest of the room was perfect. Her team was talented, and very capable of doing most of the work unchaperoned. She could pick and choose which events to attend, leaving her plenty of time to travel with her jet-setting husband. But it had been three weeks since she and Leo had been together—his newest business expansion into Asia had kept him away much longer than usual.
The restlessness that had plagued her over the past months seemed to have intensified in the absence of her husband. Three weeks was the longest they had spent apart. She was unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong—or perhaps something was about to go wrong.
Their joint venture into charity work in Sicily kept her busy. The Valente Foundation was doing fantastic work in some of the most disadvantaged areas on the island. And with Christmas fast approaching there was lots of volunteer work to do. But, as busy as she kept herself, something still kept her wide awake at night and staring at the ceiling.
Making a snap decision, she grabbed a ladder from nearby and set it up, removing her heels in the process. She didn’t need to stand here waiting for a big strong man to fix the problem. There was no reason why she couldn’t do it herself.
She quickly reached the top, keeping both hands in front of her on the cold metal for balance. It was true: if you wanted a job done well, sometimes you had to do it yourself. She focused on the arrangement, unhooking it from its place and lowering it down. It was heavier than she had expected, and she gasped as the world unexpectedly tilted on its axis.
‘Dio, what is it with you and ladders?’ a deep voice shouted from below her as the ladder suddenly righted itself and she was entirely vertical again.
‘Leo.’ Her heart gave a sharp thump.
Her husband was looking up at her, his hands holding the metal ladder steady. Dara dropped the flower arrangement and cursed.
‘It’s nice to see you still haven’t lost your love of daring stunts, carina.’
Dara descended the ladder as quickly as she could manage and practically fell into her husband’s arms. The familiar smell of him surrounded her, making her sigh involuntarily.
‘Surprise...’ he whispered huskily against her neck.
His permanent five o’clock shadow brushed against her skin and she shivered. Oh, how she had missed those shivers.
‘You’re a week early.’ She pulled back in his arms.
He smirked. ‘I like to be unpredictable.’
She loved it when he smiled like that, filled with mischief. Life was too serious without Leo around.
‘I’ve got a surprise planned. Do you think you can manage a few days away from your work?’
‘Right now? Leo, that sounds wonderful, but I’m needed here.’
Dara made a noise of protest, only to have him silence her with a finger against her lips.
‘Do you remember your wedding vows, Signora Valente?’
Dara remembered their wedding day as if it had been yesterday. She had originally planned a simple ceremony on the beach in the Caribbean. But then they’d both realised there was only one place they could imagine becoming man and wife, attended by a few select family and friends: the castello, which had become the setting for the most romantic day of her life.
‘We both agreed to remove that medieval part about obeying one’s husband from our vows.’ She raised a brow.
‘I’m talking about the part where we promised to spend each and every day loving each other.’ His gaze darkened as his hand drifted lower on her back. ‘And it seems I’ve got about twenty-two days of loving to make up for.’
His mouth lowered to hers and captured it in a scorching kiss full of dark, sensual promise.
