Temporarily His Princess

Eight

“What did you say?”

As the exclamation rang in her ear, Glory sighed. “You heard right, Mom. I’m getting married. To Vincenzo.”

Silence expanded on the other end of the line.

Which was to be expected. She herself still couldn’t believe any of this was really happening.

After she’d told Vincenzo last night that she’d marry him of her own free will, she hadn’t known what to expect.

Or she had. She’d expected him to be elated, or relieved, or best scenario of all, to resume his mind-melting seduction.

He’d done none of that. He’d just taken her hands to his lips, murmured a cell-scrambling “Grazie mille, gloriosa mia” then he’d silently led her to her guest quarters and bid her good-night.

After a night of tossing and turning and pacing her quarters, which looked like something out of a fairy tale, he’d come knocking with a breakfast tray. He didn’t stay, said he had too many things to prepare. He asked her to invite everyone she wanted and to make lists of what she needed for the wedding. It would be in a week’s time.

The first person she’d thought of had been her mother.

And here she was, pretending this was real to the person she was closest to in the world. But there was nothing to be gained by telling her mother the truth. Her mother had suffered too much, and God only knew how long her remission would last this time—or if it would. She would do and say anything to make her mother as happy as possible for as long as she could.

Glenda Monaghan’s silence thickened until it weighed down on her. “Mom, you still there?”

A ragged exhalation. “Yes, darling. I’m just…surprised.”

Her mother had been apprehensive about her first liaison with Vincenzo. She had feared Glory would end up plummeting into the huge gap in power and status between them. But on meeting Vincenzo, Glenda had thought him magnificent and later waxed poetic about the purity and clarity of his emotions for Glory. She suspected her mother had entertained dreams that her daughter would become a princess and had looked devastated when Glory had informed her that the relationship was over.

Glenda must be stunned her dream was coming true after all these years, and so suddenly. When they’d talked four days ago, none of this had been on the horizon.

Glory gave her mother a pretty little story about how she and Vincenzo had met again, rediscovering how they’d once felt about each other and resolving the issues that had separated them. This time, he’d popped the question and wanted to get married right away so he could start his new post with them as husband and wife.

By the time she’d told all those lies, Glory was almost panting, but she forced herself to go on. “Vincenzo will send his private jet for you. If you can come right away, I’d love it! If not, come a couple of days before the wedding if possible, to help me with all the last-minute things. All you need to do is buy something pretty to wear and pack a bag for two weeks or so. You should enjoy Castaldini at least that long.”

When she finished, silence stretched again.

Then her mother whispered, “Is it only me you’re inviting?”

Glory had known that question would come yet still wasn’t ready to answer it.

From the time Glory was a little girl, her mother had tried all she could to defuse her dissatisfaction with her father and brother. Then, in the past few years, she’d fought to reinstate the relationship that Glory had escaped, always ready with an excuse for their latest damaging decisions or exasperating actions. Now the situation was reversed and it was Glory who had to hide the true extent of her father’s and brother’s transgressions from her mother. And she wasn’t sure she could do that if she saw them again now.

But her established disapproval wasn’t grave enough to warrant not inviting them to her wedding. If she didn’t invite them, she’d have to give her mother an explanation why. She couldn’t tell the truth. And she’d already told her enough lies.

But then, why not just have them here? She doubted she’d have enough mental or emotional energy to register their presence. And Vincenzo had stressed she could invite anyone. By “anyone” she believed he sanctioned her father’s and brother’s presence. And she did want to please her mom.

She forced lightness in her voice. “You’re the one I can’t wait to have here, but of course Dad and Daniel are invited.” That didn’t sound as welcoming as she’d tried to make it. Well, her father and brother would just have to make do with that level of enthusiasm.

“Don’t you want your father to give you away, darling? I know it’s been a long while since you thought he was the best dad in the world, but he does try.”

Yeah, he tried so hard his efforts could send him to prison for life. “I’m almost thirty, Mom. I’m perfectly capable of walking down that aisle on my own.”

“I know you can do anything on your own, darling, but your father has dreamed of this day for so long, and—” her mother broke off, as if swallowing tears “—it’ll break his heart.”

Glory gritted her teeth on the surge of familiar guilt she suffered every time she felt she’d been too hard on her father. But once the sentimental reaction subsided she always realized that she hadn’t been. If only she’d been harder, had known the truth earlier, she could have stopped him and Daniel from spiraling that far that they risked their freedom. There was one way out of this for now.

“Listen, Mom, I’m marrying a prince from a kingdom steeped in history and tradition and giving me away might not be part of the ritual here. If it is, I’ll let Dad give me away.”

Another fraught silence greeted her prevaricating promise. For an otherwise shrewd woman, her mother had a rationalizing disease where her husband and son were concerned. Glory barely suppressed her need to tell her mother to open her eyes and see her husband and son for the lost causes they were.

The one thing that had always held her back was knowing how much they loved her mother. Glory had no doubt they’d die for her mother in a heartbeat.

What an inextricable mess everyone was tangled up in.

Sighing, she soothed her mother. “Just pack your men up and bring them here, Mom. It’ll all work out.”

After that, she diverted her mom into talking about the guest list and wedding plans.

By the time Glory ended the call, she felt she’d run a mile.

Now on to the marathon of the next week.

*

After sunset, just as she was getting restless having nothing to do, Vincenzo came into her suite. He introduced the tall, graceful and extremely chic man with him as his valet and right-hand man, Alonzo Barbieri. After greeting her in utmost delight and kissing her hand as if she was his long-lost princess, Alonzo ushered in four other people, two men and two women, each carrying a heavy, ornate antique chest. They opened them on the coffee table then promptly left, leaving her gaping at the contents.

The freaking royal jewels of Castaldini.

She’d thought they would be— No, she couldn’t have thought anything that could come close to—to…that.

Each piece on its own would have been jaw-dropping, but having them piled together—from hefty necklaces, bracelets and tiaras to intricate earrings, brooches and rings—the treasure was literally dazzling. There were even some scepters and goblets and ornamental pieces not for wearing. And were those…those…

“The royal crowns! What are those doing here?”

As she turned stunned eyes between the two men, it was Alonzo who supplied an explanation. “I applaud your knowledge of our history, Principessa!” Before she could wince at the title, he went on, “Those are indeed the crowns that had been worn by kings and queens of Castaldini until King Benedetto and his wife—Queen Clarissa’s father and mother. But since their lives were marked by tragedy, King Ferruccio had new crowns made, with personalized changes, so the past wouldn’t throw the least shadow on his and Queen Clarissa’s lives.”

More proof of how total Ferruccio’s love for Clarissa was.

With that strange reticence that had come over him still subduing his eyes, Vincenzo said, “As my princess you’re entitled to any piece you’d like. After last night, Ferruccio and Clarissa insist you should have as many as you’d like.”

Alonzo chuckled. “They’re ready to offer the whole treasure to you as the one who’ll save Principe Vincenzo from unremitting bachelorhood. I am also offering whatever your heart desires for that Herculean achievement.”

So Vincenzo hadn’t even taken his closest person into his confidence. Alonzo clearly believed this was a grand love story with a happily ever after.

“Ferruccio is also putting the royal palace and everyone inside it at your service,” Vincenzo said.

“He wants us to have the wedding there?”

Vincenzo nodded. “Being the control freak that he is, he insists I take my vows under his supervision.”

“Can’t we…” She stopped, swallowed. “Can’t we have the wedding here?”

A flare of surprise then intentness incinerated the deadness in Vincenzo’s eyes. “Is this what you want?”

Feeling suddenly shy and awkward, wanting to smack herself for behaving as if she was a real bride, she murmured, “It’s just this place is magnificent, and it’s your family home…”

Vincenzo spoke over her, his tone urgent. “If it’s what you want, then we certainly will have the wedding here.”

Alonzo looked scandalized. “But what about King Ferruccio’s decree? And all this talk about being a knight in his round table and doing anything he commands?”

Vincenzo had said that about Ferruccio? Watching those two together, you’d never have guessed he felt that way about him.

Vincenzo twisted his lips at Alonzo. “That’s until my bride says different. Then it’s her desires that I follow, nobody else’s, no matter who they are.”

Alonzo whooped. “That’s what I waited two decades to hear. Principessa, you’re a miracle worker. A miracle, period.”

Feeling tears too near the surface, she wanted to get this over with. “Will you please do the honors, Vincenzo? I’m almost afraid to look at those pieces, I’m not about to go rummaging through them and chip or crack something.”

Vincenzo’s expression hovered on the smile she’d been missing, had even gotten dependent on basking in it. “Rummage away. Those pieces have weathered the test of hundreds of years. Choose whatever you want.”

“I want you—” her voice trembled, holding back only you “—to choose the ring for me.”

A moment of probing stillness. “Are you sure?” A tinge of teasing said after all the fuss? Then his lips spread. “I do have one ring, one collection in mind. I always felt it was made as a tribute to the beauty of your eyes.”

He gave Alonzo a nod, and as if Alonzo knew exactly which pieces Vincenzo was talking about, Alonzo started sorting through the treasure. In minutes, without letting her see what he’d selected, Alonzo placed the pieces in a rectangular box he’d had under his armpit all along then handed it to Vincenzo.

Coming to stand above where she sat feeling as though she’d fall apart any moment, Vincenzo suddenly dropped down on one knee in front of her.

Holding her stunned gaze with eyes roiling like thunderclouds, he opened the navy blue velvet box. She relinquished his gaze to its contents…and the gasp that had caught in her chest when he’d knelt before her escaped.

A seven-piece set—necklace, bracelet, ring, earrings, tiara, armlet and anklet—lay on the dark velvet like a brilliant constellation of stars set against a night sky. They were all made from the most delicate filigree yellow gold she’d ever seen, and studded with magnificent white and blue diamonds in ingenious patterns. But it was the ring that her eyes couldn’t leave. A flawless, vivid blue diamond of at least ten carats, the color of her eyes at night, with emerald-cut white diamonds on both the sides.

Vincenzo singled it out, turned his hand up, asking for hers. She placed it there without volition or hesitation.

The moment he slipped the ring on her finger, she knew what a huge mistake she was committing. She wouldn’t survive losing him this time.

His watchfulness intensified as he singed her hand in a kiss, then with a long groan, he stabbed his other hand into the depths of her hair and hauled her against him, kissing her so deeply, so hungrily, she felt he might finish her.

Surrendering to his passion, her need, her panic subsided as she accepted that if she wasn’t careful, he would finish her.

*

“We have only one hour left to go.”

Glory turned her head at Alonzo’s declaration. The man was the most outstanding organizer she’d ever seen. He’d marshaled everyone’s efforts to get the most efficient operation going. And in just one week, he’d managed to plan a wedding more incredible than any in storybooks.

Alonzo took exception to her saying that. The wedding hadn’t happened yet, and would she stop jinxing it?

If only he knew a jinx wasn’t needed to spoil anything. Everything would self-destruct in a year.

But a year was a long time.

The week had passed faster than she could catch her breath. Now the wedding was an hour away.

Her mother had arrived only yesterday with her father and brother, and Alonzo had promptly swept them off their feet and into the rush of preparations, for which Glory was grateful. No one had time to think of any relationship issues. Amelia, who’d arrived the day after Glory had invited her, had been running interference for her whenever any awkward moment arose.

Clarissa and Gabrielle—Clarissa’s sister-in-law—were now flitting about doing Alonzo’s last-minute bidding. He’d already sent Phoebe and Jade, the other two in the Fabulous Five brigade, on errands. Though they were his queen and princesses, in those wedding preparations, he ruled supreme.

Everything around the castle and the town below now echoed the themes of Glory’s dress and accessories. Everything was swathed in glorious white, gold and a whole range of vivid blues. Vincenzo had already told her that she was made of Castaldini’s hues, her hair of its soil, her skin of its sunlight, and her eyes of its skies.

“You do look like a princess, darling.”

Glory looked at her mother in the Andalusian-style full-length mirror before shifting her gaze to stare at her reflection. She had to admit her mother was right.

So clothes did make the woman. This dress made her feel like a different person. The person a dozen designers had turned her into as she’d stood for endless hours for them to mold this creation on her.

During the stages of its creation, she hadn’t imagined how it would look finished. She’d last seen it when it had yet to be embroidered. The end product was astounding.

In sweeping gradations of brilliant blues on a base of crisp white, it looked like something made in another realm, from materials and colors that defied the laws of nature. Its fitted, off-the-shoulder bodice with a heart-shaped plunging neckline accentuated her curves and swells to beyond perfection, nipping her waist to a size she hadn’t believed achievable—and without a breath-stealing corset.

Her one request had been that the dress not have a mushrooming skirt. But it was only when Clarissa had backed up her request that the designers had backed down. On hearing that they hadn’t taken her request as a command, Vincenzo had fired them and gotten new ones who’d been doing everything she said before she finished saying it.

Now the dress had a skirt that molded to her hips before flaring gently in layers of chiffon, tulle and lace overlaying a base of silk. The whole dress was adorned in thousands of sequins and diamonds that echoed the colors of her jewelry, in patterns that swept around her body and down the dress and formed the crest of Vincenzo’s province, where he was the lord.

Alonzo finished adjusting the layered veil from the back of her high chignon, then the tiara just behind her coiffed bangs, while Amelia hooked her twenty-foot train.

As they all pulled back to exclaim over her perfection, her mother neared, tears running down her thin cheeks. “Oh, darling, I can’t tell you how happy…how happy…”

A surge of poignancy threatened to fill Glory’s eyes, too, as her mother choked. She blinked it back. The last thing she wanted was to go to Vincenzo with swollen eyes and reddened nose. But there was something in her mother’s eyes that gripped her heart in anxiety. Something dark and regretful.

Gathering herself, her mother continued, “I’m so happy I lived to see this day, to see you with the man who loves you and who will protect you for the rest of your life.”

Alarm detonated in Glory’s chest. Had her mother had a relapse and not told her? She’d always said the worst thing about having cancer was how it pained Glory and disrupted her life as she’d dropped everything and rushed to her side.

Before she could blurt out her worries, a burst of music shook the chamber.

“Ferruccio has brought out the whole royal brass orchestra to your door, Glory.” Clarissa chuckled at her astonishment. “It’s a royal tradition in all huge occasions, playing the anthem to herald the beginning of ceremonies. And Vincenzo getting married is certainly huge.”

Another wave of anxiety drenched her. This was really happening. She had to walk out now and marry Vincenzo in a legendary ceremony in front of thousands of people.

She turned away from everyone, inhaling a steadying breath as she faced herself in the mirror one last time. She wondered if everyone saw what she saw. A woman lost in love but resigned that love would remain lost to her forever?

No, they didn’t. Everyone behaved as if they had no doubt this was a match made in heaven, and made forever.

Alonzo touched her shoulder gently. “Are you ready for your groom?”

She wasn’t ready. For anything. Yet she was ready for nothing else, ready for everything. She nodded.

Alonzo rushed to the table where he’d arranged the blown-glass bottles filled with the aromatic oils he’d rubbed on her pulse points as Castaldinian custom dictated. He picked up one of the oils and also took the crystal pitcher filled with the rose water he’d given her earlier to drink as another part of the ritual before rushing to open the door.

Her heart clanged, expecting to see Vincenzo. The father giving the bride away wasn’t done in Vincenzo’s province, thankfully. Instead, the groom came to take his bride from among her family and friends, to claim her as his, and take her from her old life to the new one with him.

Everything inside her stilled as she stared at the empty doorway. Vincenzo wasn’t there, and Alonzo was pouring water in his hand and sprinkling it across her doorstep carefully, once, twice, three times.

“That’s to ward away evil spirits that might try to enter with your groom and conspire to come between you later,” Gabrielle explained, a red-haired beauty whom the matron-of-honor dress suited best, with her eyes reflecting its sapphire and cerulean colors. She grinned sheepishly at Glory’s wide-eyed stare. “I’ve been investigating the myriad provincial traditions around here. I’m thinking of writing a book.”

“You should,” Clarissa exclaimed. “You’d be even more of a national treasure if you do!”

Amelia, who was having the time of her life rubbing shoulders with a posse of princesses, chuckled. “Make it a royal decree that she must, Clarissa. With all the fascinating stuff Alonzo introduced us to during the preparations, I can’t wait to read that book. I want to adopt all of those traditions in my own wedding!”

Glory barely heard their banter, all her senses focused on the threshold as Alonzo stood to one side, pumping his chest in deference and pride and called out, “Avanti, Principe.”

And Vincenzo appeared.

His gaze slammed into hers, compacting the dozens of feet between them, making her feel him against her, his breath hovering a gasp away from her inflamed flesh.

Air vanished from the world. Fire flooded her limbs.

And that was before she really looked at him.

Her heart emptied its beats in a mad rush.

This was Vincenzo as he was born to be. As she’d never seen him before. The prince whose blood ran thick with nobility and entitlement. The man who inhabited a realm she should have never seen, let alone entered. But she had entered it once, tangentially. Now she was stumbling all the way in, even if for only a year.

Her ravenous gaze devoured his every detail. His lavish costume complemented her dress, magnifying his height, breadth and bulk, worshipping his coloring and lines. A mid-thigh jacket in royal-blue silk, embroidered with Castaldinian designs, opened over a crisp white satin shirt and golden sash. His black fitted pants disappeared into knee-high shining black leather boots. A gold cape embroidered in blues and white flowed at his back down to his calf and completed the image of an otherworldly prince.

She’d always thought no description did him justice. Seemed there were always new heights to the injustice. Of his beauty. Of his escalating effect on her.

And he was hers. Tonight. And for a whole year.

Alonzo gave him the same water he’d given her to drink, and Gabrielle whispered that now the evil spirits couldn’t come between them from the inside.

Vincenzo strode in, a predator who had his prey standing before him. His eyes swept her before returning to her face with a promise that turned her into a mass of tremors.

And that was before he stopped before her and said, “I’ll kick these helpful ladies out and take the edge off so I can survive the torturous festivities ahead.”

The wild gleam in his eyes told her he wasn’t joking. He wanted to take her now, hard and fast.

Her lungs emptied on a ragged gasp. “Vincenzo…”

“Don’t stand there devouring your bride with looks and intentions.” That was Clarissa, her voice merry. She must have guessed what Vincenzo was saying. “The sooner you’re done with the ceremony, the sooner you can devour her for real.”

Unable to blush any deeper, she watched Vincenzo turn to his queen with a glare, felt him vibrating with control as he offered her his arm.

She clung to it as if to a raft in a stormy sea, felt his power moving her legs and his support holding her up as they exited the chamber after another water-sprinkling ritual.

It felt as if she was outside her body watching the whole spectacle unfold as they passed through the castle’s torch-lit corridors to the courtyard where the ceremony would be held. Her dazed gaze swept the magical setting that had become even more so with extensive decorations and ingenious lighting. Alonzo had turned the main building, its satellites and the grounds into a setting for a dream.

They passed through hundreds, maybe thousands, of smiling faces, only a few registering a spark of recognition in her stalled mind. Princes Durante and Eduardo, Gio, Alonzo’s partner, and other relatives of Vincenzo’s whom she’d met in the past week. Her gaze hiccupped and lingered only once, on her father and brother. They looked so dashing in their fineries, so moved, looking at her so lovingly. Her resentment crumbled and her heart trembled with that affection that had and would always defy logic.

Then Vincenzo swept her away and to the stage that now blocked the doors of the central tower, facing the courtyard where guests milled in concentric semicircles of tables.

As soon as they took the last step up the royal-blue satin-covered stairs, where a sumptuously dressed minister awaited them between King Ferruccio and Crown Prince Leandro, who would be their witnesses, the live medley of regal music stopped. Silence and sea breeze lamented in her ears as Vincenzo handed her down so she could kneel on the velvet cushion before the minister, then he followed her, keeping her molded to his side.

The minister of the province’s main church—a jovial man who’d told her how delighted he was to be finally marrying the confirmed bachelor lord of his province—gave a little speech then recited the marriage vows, in Italian then in English, for the bride’s guests’ benefit. As per Vincenzo’s province and family traditions, bride and groom didn’t repeat those vows or exchange ones of their own.

She welcomed that. She had nothing to say to Vincenzo. Nothing but the truth of her feelings. And those should not and would never leave her heart to pass through her lips.

Ferruccio came forward with their rings, blessing them and their union as their king, accepting their bows with that still-pondering smile. This guy was just too astute.

His assessing eyes spiked her agitation so much it made her keep missing Vincenzo’s finger as she tried to slip his wedding band on. Vincenzo took hold of her hands and branded them with a kiss that rendered them useless before guiding them through the achingly symbolic ritual. The imaginary pins holding up her smile started to pierce into her flesh.

Then it was Leandro’s turn as the second witness to perform the last ritual, coming forward with a crystal goblet. Vincenzo clasped her to his side as he leaned down, plastering his cheek against hers as Leandro held the goblet to their lips for them to simultaneously sip the bloodred liquid that tasted and smelled of an elusive amalgam of spices, fruits and flowers. He recited the words that would “bind their blood” so that they’d never be complete without the other.

Then Vincenzo turned her to face the crowd, who were now on their feet in a standing ovation, holding up their similarly filled glasses and toasting the couple in unison.

This was really happening. She was standing with the man she’d thought she’d lost forever, before his family, friends and followers, before the world, as his bride and princess.

Acting as his bride and princess. Never forget that, and you might yet survive this.

Just when she thought the worst was over, Vincenzo made everything infinitely worse.

His magnificent voice rose, carrying on the deepening night’s breeze. “My people, my family and friends, everyone blessed to call Castaldini home. I give you your new princess. The glory of my life. Gloria D’Agostino.”

If he hadn’t had her firmly tucked into his side, she would have folded to the ground.

The canopy of moonlit sky at his back blurred as he looked down at her with an intensity that flayed her already inflamed senses. He brought her back into her body, crushing it to his, and swooped down to claim her lips, reclaiming her wasteland of a soul, feeling like bliss, tasting like life.

The crowd roared its approval accompanied with a storm of clinking glasses as the orchestra played a joyful tune this time, with the majority of the crowd joining in, a song celebrating the newlyweds’ future happiness.

As the festivities escalated into the night, she lost herself in the creativity of Alonzo’s efforts and the enthusiasm of everyone present. The fantasy of it all deepened until she felt she’d never resurface, until her ordinary, solitary life blipped out from her memory.

Everything became replaced by the wonder of Vincenzo’s nearness, by that of his world, and all the wonderful people who populated his life.

And her resolve was resurrected.

Nothing mattered but having this time with Vincenzo. And she would drain every single second of it dry.