Temporarily His Princess - By Olivia Gates Page 0,43
let alone an ancestral one.
Vincenzo underlined the unbridgeable gap between them. “My umpteenth great-grandfather was Castaldini’s founder, King Antonio D’Agostino.”
“Our umpteenth great-grandfather,” Ferruccio put in.
Vincenzo countered, “My line is that of one of his grandsons, who started building this place, but it reached its present size by gradual additions of more quadrangles over two centuries. Leandro, a slightly less obnoxious cousin, inherited a similar place, which King Antonio himself had built. When we were young, we always liked to brag about which is bigger and better.”
Glory’s blood tumbled as her imagination flew on a tangent, to other bigger and better…things.
“You still do,” Ferruccio said, his tone condescending. “I always leave you boys to squabble over size and quality. Mine is the undisputed best of all.”
“But the royal palace isn’t yours, my liege,” Vincenzo calmly retorted. “As per Castaldini’s laws, you’re just the resident caretaker. You really should start building or acquiring a place to pass on to your children.”
Ferruccio suddenly threw his head back and guffawed. “See that, Vincenzo? That’s the take-no-prisoners attitude I want you to have when you’re representing Castaldini.”
Clarissa’s eyes rounded. “You mean you’ve been poking him to get him to bare his fangs?”
Ferruccio grinned down at her. “He’s been getting soft of late. Now that he has Glory, I was afraid he’d turn to putty and be no good to me in the war zone I’m sending him to. I had to do something to remind him how to use his fangs.”
Vincenzo huffed. “Have I told you lately how much I love you, Ferruccio?”
“You’re welcome to renew your oath of allegiance anytime, Vincenzo.”
Clarissa spluttered as she smacked her husband and cousin playfully, and Glory had to join in the laughter.
After that the day flowed, filled with many unprecedented experiences with the most exciting people she’d ever met.
It was past midnight when she and Vincenzo stood in the courtyard, watching the regal couple vanish into the night.
Her heart twisted at the symbolism. This place and Vincenzo would soon disappear from her life as if they’d never been.
The moment she turned to Vincenzo, he turned to her, too, taking a leashed step closer, practically vibrating with intensity.
And she realized. That he was sending her away because he no longer wanted to coerce her. But he still wanted her. And she’d already decided that this passion was worth any risk.
Closing the gap between them, taking both his hands in hers, she took the plunge into the path to eventual heartache.
And she whispered, “I’ll marry you for the year you need, Vincenzo. My choice this time.”
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