Rising Stars. Maisey Yates
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“Yes. I do.”
“Why?”
“Because it is necessary.”
“You’re old-fashioned.”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t love me!”
He folded his arms. “Irrelevant.”
“Not to me, it isn’t!” She exhaled, clenching her hands. “Listen, Alessandro, I’ll never try to keep you from seeing your child—”
“I know that you will not, once we are wed.”
“I’m not going to marry you!”
“Of course you will,” he said coldly.
She shook her head, causing wet tendrils to slap against her cheeks. “Be in a loveless marriage for the rest of my life? No thanks!”
“I understand. You still want your knight in shining armor.” He set his jaw. “But whatever either of us might have once planned for our lives is over. We are expecting a child. We will wed.”
“No—we would be miserable!”
“Miserable?” he said incredulously. “Don’t you understand? You will be my bride. A princess. Rich beyond your wildest dreams!”
“I don’t care—I don’t want it! Not when I know you don’t love me and never will!”
He grabbed her by the shoulders, his hands sliding against her wet skin. “You would deny our child a name out of some childish yearning for fairytale dreams?”
“It’s not childish.” She closed her eyes, which suddenly burned with tears that he’d used his knowledge of her heart against her. “You are cruel.”
“I am right,” he said grimly. “You have no reason to refuse me.” He paused. “I will even be faithful to you, Lilley.”
He spoke the words as if being faithful to her would require a huge sacrifice, practically more than any billionaire prince could bear. And it was probably true. “Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically, glaring at him. “But I have no interest in being your duty bride.”
“Your objection is to the word duty?” He narrowed his eyes. “What do you think marriage is?”
“Love. Friendship. Having each other’s backs. A poetic union of souls—”
His grip on her tightened. “And passion?” His voice became husky beneath the rain. “What of passion?”
Her heart fell to her sandals and back again. She felt his strength, his warmth, the irresistible pull of his power. Against her will, she craved him.
“It was good between us.” He ran his fingers lightly along her jawline, his thumb along her sensitive lower lip. His soft stroke caused a spark down her body that made her suck in her breath. “You know how it was.”
Memories shuddered through her of how it had felt when he’d made love to her. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples aching and tight. She swallowed. “It was a fling,” she breathed. “You said so yourself. I’m not the right woman to be your bride.”
“My assessment has changed.” He cupped her face. His eyes were dark with heat. “For the last month,” he whispered, “I’ve thought of nothing but having you in my bed.”
She licked her lips. “You—you have?”
“I told myself you deserved a man who could love you. But everything has changed. Only our child matters now.” His gaze fell to her lips. “But that’s a lie,” he said in a low voice. “That’s not the only reason I want you as my bride. I want you to be mine. I want to possess you completely. Every night. For the rest of our lives.”
Lilley could barely breathe. “But Olivia—”
“I would have married her out of duty. Not desire.” He looked into her eyes. “You are the one I want, Lilley.” His mouth lowered to hers with agonizing slowness as he whispered, “Don’t you know that by now? I want you. And now I will have you—forever.”
As he kissed her, she closed her eyes, her body shaking as his lips took ruthless possession of her own. His lips were hard and hungry as the rain poured over their skin and thunder pounded across the lowering black sky.
She heard his low growl as in a sudden movement he pushed her back against the hedge. She felt the rough, wet branches of the shrubbery against her back as he held her tight against his wet, muscled body. He moved his hands through her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. In the force of their embrace, their wet clothes slid and clung to their skin. His hands roamed everywhere, over her cotton tank top, over her hips. She felt his hand reach beneath the hemline of her skirt, dragging it slowly up her thighs. His hand slid upwards, and she gasped, placing her hand over his. “No.”
“Don’t refuse me,” he said in a low voice. “It’s what we both want.”
“I do want you,” she panted, then choked out a sob. “But I can’t marry you. I’d have to give up everything I believe in. I’m afraid it would destroy me to love you.”
“So don’t love me.” He caressed her hair, looking down at her with serious dark eyes. “It’s too late for our own dreams, Lilley,” he said quietly. “All that matters now are our baby’s.”
She sucked in her breath. He was right, she realized. All that mattered now was their child. She closed her eyes. “Will you love our baby? Will you be a good father?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
Her heart twisted as she took a deep breath, then another. For an instant, she held her breath. Then she let her dreams for love go.
She opened her eyes.
“I can accept … a marriage without love,” she whispered, then shook her head. “But not without trust. Not without respect. I won’t be humiliated by a paternity test. Either believe that the baby is yours … or let us go.”
Staring at her, Alessandro slowly nodded. “All right, cara,” he said in a low voice. “All right.”
Swallowing back the ache in her throat, she whispered, “Then I’ll marry you.”
Alessandro drew back. “You will?” The rain had lifted, and a beam of twilight sun burst from behind the clouds, illuminating his hard features with gold. “You’ll be my wife?”
Wordlessly, she nodded.
His eyes lit up, and the edges of his lips curved up into a bright smile that made him look younger, almost boyish. She’d never seen him look that way before. As Lilley stared up at him, the noise of the storm faded, and thunder became a distant memory.
Maybe it would be all right, she thought, dazed. Maybe passion and a baby would be enough to start a marriage.
She prayed it would be. Because that was all they had.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LILLEY’s hair flew around her, tangling in the cold night wind as Alessandro drove his yellow Ferrari convertible across the vast, lonely Nevada desert. She couldn’t stop looking over at him at the wheel. Moonlight frosted his dark hair with silver.
The party had ended in scandal, when Alessandro had privately informed Olivia that she’d been misled by the gossip columns and he intended to take Lilley as his bride. Olivia had stomped out of the villa, but not before she’d grabbed Lilley’s arm in the foyer.
“You’ll regret this,” the beautiful Milanese heiress had hissed, pressing her fingernails into Lilley’s flesh. “You might be pregnant with his child, you piece of trash, but you’re not worthy to be his wife. You think you’ve beaten me. But I will find a way to destroy you.”
Turning,