Temporarily His Princess - By Olivia Gates Page 0,36

her there, as he’d promised.

Now she knew she meant nothing to him, and he hadn’t promised anything, and yet he’d just taken her there.

Life was truly incomprehensible.

Photos had conveyed a complex of buildings overlooking a tranquil sea with gorgeous surrounding nature. But its reality was way more. Layer upon layer of natural and man-made wonders stretched as far as her vision did, drenched in the Mediterranean sun and canopied by its brilliant skies.

The centerpiece of the vista was a citadel complex that crouched high on a rocky if verdant hill like something out of a fantasy. At its foothills spread a countryside so lush and a town so untouched by modernity, she felt as if they were traveling through time as they approached.

The complex sprawled on multiple levels over the rugged site, the land around it teeming with wildflowers, orange trees and elms. As they approached, Vincenzo folded back the roof so she could hear the resident mockingbirds filling the afternoon with songs. He told her they were welcoming her.

Then they were crossing an honest-to-goodness moat, and she did feel she’d crossed into a different era.

Driving through huge wooden gates, Vincenzo drove around a mosaic-and-marble fountain in a truly expansive cobblestone courtyard, parking before the central tower. He hopped out without opening his door and ran around to scoop her into his arms without opening hers.

Giggling at his boyish playfulness, she glanced around embarrassedly at the dozens of people coming and going, no doubt the caretakers of his castle, all with their gazes and grins glued on her and Vincenzo.

He climbed the ancient stone steps with her protesting that she was too heavy all the way. By the time they arrived at a stone terrace at the top, he’d proved she wasn’t, for him. He was barely breathing faster. He’d always been fit. But he must have upped his exercise regimen. She couldn’t wait to test his boosted stamina….

The moment he put her down on her feet, she rushed across the terrace and came up against the three-foot-high balustrade looking over the incredible vista that sprawled to the horizon. Well-being surged through her in crashing waves, making her stand on tiptoe, arch her back and open her arms wide as if to encompass the beauty around her.

Vincenzo came up behind her, stopping less than a whisper away, creating a field of screaming sensuality between them, his lips blazing a path of destruction from her temple to the swell of her breasts. By the time he took the same path back up, she was ready to beg for his touch.

She didn’t have to. He finally pulled her against him, arms crisscrossing beneath breasts that felt swollen and heavy. His murmur thrummed inside her in a path that connected her heart and core, melting both. “Dea divina mia, my divine goddess, now I know what this place lacked in my eyes. Your beauty gracing it. I won’t be able to think of this place again except as a backdrop to showcase and worship you.”

That was…extravagant. When had he learned to talk like that? With the women who flowed in and out of his bed?

A fist squeezed her heart dry of beats.

Steady. She had no right to feel despondent or disillusioned. Vincenzo wasn’t hers. He never had been.

But the thought still didn’t sit right. Those women had always seemed as if they’d been there to serve his purpose. She couldn’t see him serenading them. So where did the poetry come from? Why was he so free with it? She’d already promised him the pretense and the passion.

So was he only going all-out to make her feel better about both?

Yeah. That had to be it.

But he’d said his passion had always been real. Whatever his reasons for his past cruelty, it didn’t matter. For now, she could have heaven.

“If you think I add to the scenery that much, I’ll pose for a photo shoot if you ever need to put the place up for sale. I can see the ad with the title ‘Property in Paradise.’” She turned in his arms. “But seriously, now I’ve seen it up close, I’m wondering how you don’t live here most of the time.”

“Maybe now I will.” His tone remained that tempting burr. But she felt it. An earnestness. A query. One he couldn’t be asking. This was a fake marriage, with a nonexistent future. He wouldn’t be considering her or soliciting her endorsement before he made plans for his own future.

Ignoring a pang of regret, she pretended