tablecloths, wine glasses, and bone china inlaid with gold.
Raphael escorted me to an isolated table which had only two seats so we could speak to each other privately, yet its position allowed us both to remain a centerpiece for our families to observe. Raphael pulled out my chair for me and I took a seat. When he was settled next to me, a wedding attendant poured us two flutes of Prosecco.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I asked him. “I need to use the restroom.”
When I made a move to stand, he reached out to grab me with his injured hand. “Serve me first, and then I’ll think about allowing it. Or, I might let you piss yourself in embarrassment.”
I thought of the power that dangled around my neck, and my thoughts went to my mother.
We were the same, she and I.
She’d ended her life to save mine. And now I was going to do the same. Better my child and I went together, than be forced to endure the cruelty of Raphael Foscari.
If I lived, Raphael would take Hadrian’s child from me. He’d give me another, an heir of his own, but that child would never be mine. It would be a Foscari, nurtured on savagery.
I’d married the devil, and Hadrian hadn’t appeared like a knight in shining armor to rescue me. For all he knew, he was dead.
I was truly and completely alone.
There was no longer a choice. I’d go to the bathroom, and when it was clear I’d been gone too long, Raphael would come in search of me.
I thought about the expression he would wear on his face, his cheeks mottled with anger when he found me dead on the bathroom floor on our wedding day.
A small dish of seasoned olives rested in the middle of the table. I reached for it and scooped out a spoonful and placed the olives on Raphael’s plate. When I set the bowl down, I looked at him. “Do you want me to cut your meat for you too, little boy? We could play the airplane game—”
Raphael’s rage got the better of him, and he grasped my wrist in an unrelenting grip. When he did, my lips perversely curved with pleasure, knowing he could only hurt me for a few more minutes.
“Get out of my sight,” he spat. “And when you come back, you will control yourself, or I’ll make damned sure you never misbehave again.”
With a bold gesture, I took Raphael’s flute of Prosecco and took a long swallow.
Liquid courage for what I was about to do.
I was just about to take my leave of the table when someone strolling through the vineyard caught my attention.
My heart drummed in my ears when I recognized a familiar form. A genuine smile of relief flitted to life on my face, and the hair on my neck stood up.
Hadrian Rhys had come for me.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Conversation and laughter ceased as Hadrian strode between the tables of the wedding feast. He was underdressed in black trousers and a white button-down shirt open at the collar and rolled up to the elbows, showing off fair skin and muscular forearms. I watched intently, and immediately noticed that he was moving slowly, seemingly unwell.
I heard nothing over the sound of my own rapidly thumping heart, and it was little more than good fortune that I remembered not to squeeze the flute in my hand. I set it down on the table, my hand shaking.
A few of the Foscari men rose, ready to pounce on Hadrian as he strolled by, looking decidedly unconcerned.
“Sit down!” Angelo barked at his family, and when the Foscari made no move to listen, Angelo spat again, “Hadrian Rhys is not to be harmed!”
Hadrian placed his hand on his heart. “Angelo, I’m touched.”
The Foscari lowered themselves back into their chairs one by one but remained alert and watchful.
When Hadrian came to our table, he stopped. His gaze raked over me, hungrily. And then he arched a brow, an appreciative smile drifting across his face.
I bit my lip to stop my answering grin and then said, “You’re late.”
Hadrian laughed as we continued to ignore the wedding guests. “I had a wee bit of trouble getting here. I had a horrible allergic reaction to the tranquilizer, and I’m still not fully recovered.” He turned, and when he saw Luca, his gaze halted. “It’s a good thing you didn’t accidentally kill me. My dead man’s switch was nearly activated.”