Temporarily His Princess - By Olivia Gates Page 0,20

courtesy, personally and professionally. His assurances hadn’t been enough for Gio, and he’d convinced Alonzo that they didn’t need a certificate or the world’s acceptance to be happy. Or at least, Alonzo pretended to be convinced so he could stay with the man he loved. But his reaction now proved that he still yearned for the validation of his beloved’s public proclamation, and the delight of preparing a ceremony to celebrate their bond.

Vincenzo’s gaze settled heavily on Alonzo. Everyone thought Vincenzo couldn’t be more different from the man, fourteen years his senior, who’d been his closest companion since he was ten. Only he knew how similar they were where it mattered. They were both detail-oriented and goal-focused. But most important, they suffered from the same fundamental ailment. Monogamy. The one thing stopping him from telling Alonzo to kick that guy out of his life was that Gio was equally exclusive.

At least so far. Vincenzo had made certain. If that ever changed, Gio wouldn’t know what hit him.

“But it’s worse.” Alonzo’s exclamation interrupted Vincenzo’s aggressive thoughts. “It’s your wedding. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?”

“I can subtract, Alonzo. Since you started droning that I should get married when I wasn’t yet twenty. It’s been two decades since you started longing to plan the elusive day.”

“But it’s elusive no more! I could kiss King Ferruccio for pushing you to make the decision.”

“You just want to kiss Ferruccio under any pretext,” he teased.

After that, Alonzo deluged him with questions, milking him for info on dates, preferences, Glory and everything besides, so he could start preparing the “Wedding of the Century,” as he was adamant it would be. He insisted he’d have to get his hands on Glory ASAP so he’d get her input, and construct the perfect “setting” for Vincenzo’s royal jewel.

Alonzo only left him alone when he told him of his ring-picking mission, for which he’d yet to prepare.

Alonzo almost skipped out of the room in his excitement about the million things he had to arrange and the prospect of his prince getting a princess at last.

Once alone, Vincenzo attacked planning the perfect ring rendezvous with as much single-mindedness as he did his most crucial scientific or business endeavors. But even with his far-reaching influence, it still took hours to prepare things to his satisfaction, leaving only two before his self-imposed appointment with Glory.

He rushed into his bathroom, ticking off the things he needed to do. To get ready for her.

Lust and longing seethed in his arteries as he entered the shower cubicle, letting the hot water sting some measure of relief into his tension. Not that it worked. He felt about to explode, as he had when he’d called Glory. He’d felt he might suffer some lasting damage if he didn’t spend the rest of the night all over her, inside her, assuaging the hunger that had come crashing to the fore at renewed exposure to her.

But although he was still in agony, he was glad she’d resisted him, and that he’d backed off. And he was fiercely satisfied that his domineering tactics had made her push back. This was how he wanted it, wanted her, giving him the elation of the struggle, the exhilaration of the challenge. And she’d done that and more. She’d asked to pick her ring.

Suddenly, something that had been clenched inside him since he’d lost his dream of a life with her unfurled. The plan he’d started executing only twenty-four hours ago had been derailed. It had taken on a life of its own. He no longer had the least control over it or himself.

And he couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

She’s bewitched you all over again.

He smirked at that inner voice’s effort to jolt him out of his intentions. It failed. He didn’t care if she had. All his caution and self-preservation had only brought him melancholy and isolation. He was sick of them, of knowing that without her, he’d feel this way forever. It had taken seeing her again to prove that she was the only thing to bring him to life.

It might feel this way, but it’s an illusion. It has always been.

He still didn’t care. If the illusion felt that good, why not succumb to it? As long as he knew it was one.

What if knowing still won’t protect you when it ends?

He frowned at the valid thought.

But no. Anything was better than the rut he was in. Apart from those months he’d had with her, all he’d