CHAPTER SEVEN

      THE THREE OTHER couples in the waiting room were bouncing with excitement.

      Elena tried not to study them too overtly but their body language fascinated her. And saddened her.

      These couples were happy. They were marrying with the best of intentions—for love. She was marrying to stop Gabriele from destroying her family.

      She’d made her daily call to her father and had been utterly relieved when it had gone to voicemail. She’d left a message saying she would call tomorrow then switched her phone off.

      It hurt to think how upset he would be to learn she’d married the man subtly poisoning minds against him.

      Gabriele’s enormous arm was around her, her head nestled carefully in its crook.

      She could feel the thud of his heartbeat. She could smell that masculine fruity scent.

      It felt far too good to allow herself—for the sake of their audience—to sink into his strength.

      Michael and his wife, Lisa, were sitting beside them, the pair beaming, clearly delighted their boss was getting married.

      Romantic was the word Lisa had used when they’d met them there.

      An elopement to a register office was romantic?

      Elena’s parents had married in an old Tuscan church surrounded by hundreds of loved ones. The pictures in their official album had shown her father beaming with pride and her mother, dressed in a traditional floor-length white dress, glowing with happiness. Their love had shone through.

      She had never expected to marry but in the back of her mind had always been the wistful imaginings of a big traditional wedding surrounded by people who loved her, and with happiness in her heart.

      Not this. Nothing like this.

      An official appeared, ready to lead the next couple to the room in which they would legitimise their relationship.

      It was their turn.

      Ice filtered through her veins, freezing her bottom to her seat.

      Gabriele helped her to her feet and pulled her to him.

      ‘Ready to become Mrs Mantegna?’ he murmured, rubbing his nose against hers, a warning in his eyes.

      Aware of happy gazes upon them drinking in their devotion, she pressed her lips lightly to his.

      ‘I hate you so much,’ she breathed.

      She could only assume it was a form of punishment that made him dart his tongue into her mouth and kiss her with such possessiveness that she had to cling to him to keep herself upright.

      Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach to goo and she had to fight with everything she had not to take pleasure from it... Except she did. Every part of her body took pleasure from it.

      Done; his eyes gleamed before he turned to the official and said, ‘Lead the way.’

      * * *

      Five minutes later they were husband and wife.

      They left the building into a blaze of afternoon sunlight, the rays bouncing off the elegant gold band now firmly placed on Elena’s wedding finger. It had surprised her that Gabriele had chosen to wear one too.

      The handful of photographers who pitched themselves outside the building in the hope of business from those marrying on the spur of the moment had tripled in numbers.

      The paparazzi had arrived.

      No guessing who had tipped them off.

      Hands clasped, they posed but refused to make any comment.

      A crowd of curious well-wishers began to surround them, snaps from phones being taken at all angles and directions.

      Michael and Lisa, trailing behind, spoke only to say of their happiness for them, then left in a cab, en route to the airport, where they would be taking a two-week holiday courtesy of Gabriele.

      When enough pictures had been taken, they fought their way through the crowd that had grown to epic proportions and got into the back of Gabriele’s waiting car.

      Elena would bet anything the snaps of them had been beamed around the world before they’d turned the corner of the block.

      ‘Don’t you want to go out and celebrate?’ she asked with only a small amount of sarcasm. ‘I’ve never known of a marriage without a big feast and party afterwards.’

      ‘This is New York. Marriages here come in many different flavours.’ He grinned, his eyes glittering. ‘We will return to my apartment and celebrate privately.’

      She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

      What was the point in arguing? It would only delay the inevitable.

      There was no backing out. That avenue was closed. She’d married Gabriele knowing full well that when she signed the marriage licence it cemented her commitment to sleep with him.

      The worst of it all was knowing that she wanted it to happen.

      Her fear was enormous but the thrill of anticipation equalled it.

      There had been a moment in the night when she’d awoken from one of her intermittent dozes to find her face close enough to feel his breath on her skin. The longing she had experienced in those few semi-conscious moments...

      She’d wanted to kiss him.

      It had shocked her. It still did.

      She cleared her throat before speaking. ‘I assumed you would want to throw a big party to show the world you own me now.’

      ‘I thought you said I would never own you?’ he said, his tone lightly mocking. ‘But yes, I am ahead of you on that—Anna Maria is organising a party in Florence for all our family and friends to attend two weeks on Saturday. The invites will be sent tomorrow.’

      ‘Will my family be invited?’

      ‘Our family,’ he corrected. ‘We’re married now so your family is mine and mine is yours and they will all be invited.’ His grin remained fixed but his eyes were hard. ‘I’m very much looking forward to seeing them again.’

      ‘I’ll bet you are.’

      He