the house, followed by a woman calling out.
“What’s going on?” I asked, swiveling around, but I saw nothing.
“Aunt Beatrice has arrived,” Gisella said, standing. “To begin the preparations for your wedding.”
I sat up most of the night, the balcony doors open, listening to the sounds of the countryside. It was a complete departure from the noises of Hadrian’s island, I mused.
No ocean waves, no impending storm.
The tempest had come and destroyed everything already. There was nothing left.
As I closed my eyes and let the moonlight bathe my face, I imagined Hadrian’s hard, naked body curling around mine.
As soon as Beatrice had arrived, I’d been told to go to my room so that I could be measured for my wedding dress and trousseau. It had taken all of my willpower not to vomit or spew nasty words at the woman who cinched a measuring tape to my waist and bust.
My aunt was a short, no-nonsense woman who’d become the matriarch of the family after Angelo’s wife had passed away. She planned the weddings, orchestrated the baptisms, holidays, and other family gatherings.
My wedding to Raphael would happen.
I’d pled a headache and escaped dinner. They didn’t need me to enjoy meals, so long as I didn’t fight the wedding planning.
I thought of my mother. How strange it all was—I had wound up in the home she’d grown up in, and I was engaged to the man she was supposed to marry.
Every ounce of anger I’d held onto where she was concerned evaporated. As my hand settled on my belly, I understood her. I understood all of it. She’d done everything in her power to protect me.
My soul split open and I wept for the woman who’d given me everything. I forgave her for the impossible choices she’d had to make in order to survive, in order to ensure I had survived.
“I’m so sorry, Mama,” I whispered.
A breeze brushed past my cheek and I closed my eyes, pretending it was a caress from her.
Pretending we’d been able to make amends while she’d been alive.
The breakfast tray arrived almost the moment I opened my eyes. They were gritty from lack of sleep, but I gladly took the discomfort. I’d laid my past to rest the night before, and in the light of day, I felt restored.
After placing the tray on the balcony, the servant left. I got up, waiting for the bout of morning sickness to pass.
I hoped Raphael had failed.
I went to eat my breakfast on the balcony. If only I wasn’t a prisoner, I might’ve enjoyed the view. If only I could pretend I was a pampered guest, not a bartering chip.
There was a knock on the bedroom door, and despite my predicament, I smiled. It was Gisella, no doubt.
“Come in,” I called.
My smile died when I saw that it was Luca.
“Oh good, you’re here,” I said snidely, turning away from him. “I would like to enjoy my breakfast alone, please.”
He didn’t address my snark when he came to my side and sat down in the chair next to me. In a bold gesture, he reached over to my plate and picked up the half-eaten pastry and took a huge bite.
“So, this is where all the sfogliatella have gone. Does the cook have a soft spot for you?” he asked, smiling.
My eyes narrowed. I didn’t appreciate his charm, now that I knew what lie beneath it.
“Why are you here?” I demanded.
“I wanted to tell you that Raphael and his immediate family will arrive the day before the wedding. The servants have already started airing out the guest rooms.”
“Lovely,” I said, my tone as scathing as I could make it. “I can’t wait to see my fiancé again.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask Luca what he knew about Raphael’s first wife, but I didn’t expect him to tell me the truth. Nor did I think it was a wise idea to alert him that I had an ally in their midst, one of their own.
Gisella was mine to protect, and at the moment, her friendship was the only thing keeping me from going stark raving mad.
“Tor told me he took you to the sanctuary last night.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah. It was so interesting seeing the Moretti men through the generations.”
“I can tell by your cynicism that you could give a fuck about your own legacy.”
“Well, you’re no dummy, Luca. I’ll give you that.”
I looked away from him to stare out across the balcony. I loathed the beauty and serenity