Her Exquisite Surrender: Surrendering All But Her Heart / Innocent in the Ivory Tower / Full Surrender. Lucy Ellis
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sign of the distress he had witnessed during the dark hours of the night and first thing this morning. Her ice maiden persona was back in place.
He rose from the table as she came in and held out a chair for her. ‘My mother has organised a shopping morning for you,’ he said. ‘She’ll be with you shortly. She’s just seeing to some last-minute things with the housekeeper.’
‘But I don’t need anything,’ she said, frowning as she sat down.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ he asked. ‘We’re getting married on Saturday.’
Her eyes fell away from his as she placed a napkin over her lap. ‘I wasn’t planning on going to any trouble over a dress,’ she said. ‘I have a cream suit that will do.’
‘It’s not just your wedding, cara,’ he said. ‘It’s mine too. My family and yours are looking forward to celebrating with us. It won’t be the same if you turn up in a dress you could wear any old time. I want you to look like a bride.’
A spark of defiance lit her slate-blue gaze as it clashed with his. ‘I don’t want to look like a meringue,’ she said. ‘And don’t expect me to wear a veil, because I won’t.’
Angelo clamped his teeth together to rein in his temper. Was she being deliberately obstructive just to needle him for forcing her hand? He regretted showing his tender side to her last night. She was obviously going to manipulate him to get her own way. Hadn’t her father warned him? She was clever at getting what she wanted. She would go to extraordinary lengths to do so.
But then, so would he.
She had met her match in him and he would not let her forget it. ‘You will wear what I say you will wear,’ he said, nailing her with his gaze. ‘Do you understand?’
Her eyes flashed like fire. ‘Does it make you feel big and macho and tough to force me to do what you want?’ she asked. ‘Does it make you feel big and powerful and invincible?’
It made him feel terrible inside, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. ‘I want our wedding day to be a day to remember,’ he said with forced calm. ‘I will not have you spoiling it by childish displays of temper or passive aggressive actions that will upset other people who are near and dear to me. You are a mature adult. I expect you to act like one.’
She gave him a livid glare. ‘Will that be all, master?’ she asked.
He pushed back from the table and tossed his napkin to one side. ‘I’ll see you at the chapel on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I have business to see to until then.’
Her expression lost some of its intractability. ‘You mean you’re leaving me here … alone?’
‘My parents will be here.’
Her throat rose and fell over the tiniest of swallows. ‘This is rather sudden, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You said nothing to me about having to go away on business. I thought you were going to be glued to my side in case I did a last-minute runner.’
Angelo leaned his hands on the table and looked her square in the eyes. ‘Don’t even think about it, Natalie,’ he said through tight lips. ‘You put one foot out of place and I’ll come down like a ton of bricks on your brother. He will never go to Harvard. He will never go to any university. It will be years before he sees the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?’
She blinked at him, her eyes as wide as big blue saucers. ‘Perfectly,’ she said in a hollow voice.
He held her pinned there with his gaze for a couple of chugging heartbeats before he straightened and adjusted his tie. ‘Try and stay out of trouble,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you later. Ciao.’
THE private chapel at Angelo’s grandparents’ villa forty-five minutes outside of Rome was full to overflowing when Natalie arrived in the limousine with her father. The last few days had passed in a blur of activity as wedding preparations had been made. She had gone with the flow of things—not wanting to upset Angelo’s parents, who had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome.
She had talked to Angelo on the phone each day, but he had seemed distant and uncommunicative and the calls hadn’t lasted more than a minute or two at most. There had been no sign of the gentle and caring man she had glimpsed the other night. She wondered if he was having second thoughts about marrying her now he had an inkling of how seriously screwed up she really was.
Her parents had flown over the day before, and her father had immediately stepped into his public role of devoted father. Her mother was her usual decorative self, dressed in diamonds and designer clothes with a hint of brandy on her breath that no amount of mints could disguise.
Her father helped Natalie out of the car outside the chapel. ‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d end up with some tradesman from the suburbs. Angelo Bellandini is quite a catch. It’s a pity he’s Italian, but his money more than makes up for that. I didn’t know you had it in you to land such a big fish.’
She gave him an embittered look. ‘I suppose I really should thank you, shouldn’t I? After all, you’re the one who reeled him in for me.’
Her father’s eyes became cold and hard and his voice lowered to a harsh, dressing-down rasp. ‘What else was I to do, you stupid little cow?’ he asked. ‘Your brother’s future depended on getting on the right side of Bellandini. I’m just relieved he wanted to take you on again. Quite frankly, I don’t know why he can be bothered. You’re not exactly ideal wife material. You’ve got too much attitude. You’ve been like that since the day you were born.’
Natalie ground her teeth as she walked to the chapel along a gravelled pathway on her father’s arm. She had learned long ago not to answer back. The words would be locked inside her burning throat just like every other word she had suppressed in the past.
They ate at her insides like bitter, poisonous acid.
Angelo blinked when he saw Natalie come into the chapel. His heart did a funny little jump in his chest as he saw her move down the aisle. She was wearing a gorgeous crystal-encrusted ivory wedding gown that skimmed her slim curves. It had a small train that floated behind her, making her appear almost ethereal, and she was wearing a short gossamer veil with a princess tiara that didn’t quite disguise the chalk-white paleness of her face. She looked at him as she walked towards him, but he wasn’t sure she was actually seeing him. She had a faraway look in her eyes—a haunted look that made him feel guilty for having engineered things the way he had.
He took both of her hands in his as she drew close. They were ice-cold. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.
She moved her lips but there was no way he could call it a smile.
‘Your mother chose the dress,’ she said.
‘I like the veil.’
‘It keeps the flies off.’
He smiled and gave her hands a little squeeze as the priest moved forward to address the congregation. He felt her fingers tremble against his, and for the briefest moment she clung to him, as if looking for support. But then her fingers became still and lifeless in the cage of his hands.
‘Dearly beloved,’ the priest began.
‘… and now you may kiss the bride.’
Natalie held her breath as Angelo slowly raised her veil. She blinked away an unexpected tear. She had been determined not to be moved by the simple service, but somehow the words had struck a chord deep inside her. The promises had reminded her of all she secretly longed for: lifelong love, being cherished, protected, honoured, worshipped … accepted.
Angelo’s mouth came down and gently pressed against hers in a kiss that contained a hint