Читать книгу Modern Romance January Books 1-4 - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 23

THE DAY OF the wedding began like any other day, which surprised Camilla to a degree, as the entire thing loomed large in her mind. There was no reason to be nervous, and she knew that. She and Matías had been over this, and over it and over it. How it would all go, how long it was going to last.

It was not going to be a terribly formal affair.

She had been presented with a small selection of gowns earlier in the week, and she had chosen one that best suited the outdoor event.

She had a feeling it was very different to the dress that Liliana would have selected, but it was right for her. Simple, white and with clean, elegant lines.

Though, as Matías had pointed out, a bit wickedly—while holding her arms above her head, his hips locked against hers as his weight pressed her down into the mattress—she was no longer a virgin, and therefore, did not have to wear white.

She had scoffed at him and said that the symbolism of the white dress had long since gone out of fashion.

And then he had kissed her and done something with his tongue that had made it impossible to think. And after she’d had to concede—to herself—there was no point in pretending that she was anything near a virgin now. One week spent in his bed and he had introduced her to a great many sensual delights.

Just thinking about that made her face hot. But not from embarrassment. Nothing the two of them did together embarrassed her. And she wasn’t anywhere near finished with him.

She was already weaving fantasies about how they might continue this once their arrangement was finished.

Their ranches were only a few hours apart. It would be possible for them to continue seeing one another while carrying on separate lives. He could see to his business, and then when he had the chance he could come and visit her. They could sleep together. She could show him the house that she loved so much. Take him out back to the gardens, to the fountains, show him all the beautiful mosaics there. Take him on a ride through the trees, to the base of the mountains.

These were foolish fantasies, and she’d never in her life been prone to such things. But then she’d never wanted a man before. Had never been so...consumed—obsessed even—with another person. His body. His mind. His soul.

They had so much in common.

Well, except for the whole playboy international billionaire thing. But his soul. His soul matched hers in so many ways. Fiercely independent. Wanting to make his own way.

Except, much more than she, Matías was driven by demons from his past. She knew it, even if she couldn’t understand them all.

At night he slept fitfully. And she stayed by his side, her hand on his chest. Sometimes she stayed awake and simply watched him, as if somehow holding vigil beside him as he wrestled with his past pain even in his dreams, she could provide some kind of support.

He made her want.

It was an endless well of want, not one that simply began and ended in the bedroom, but one that seemed to go on and on. In the evenings, when she was sated in the physical sense, there was still something else that lingered. Something that gnawed at her, nagged at her. Something that tugged at her heart and made her physically ache.

She did her best to ignore it, because she felt that only insanity sat at the end of that path.

But now it was time for the wedding. And somehow, she had expected the sky to fall before then. But it had not. Instead, when she had woken early that morning, Matías was already gone. Probably off doing chores on the rancho, and there was nothing unusual about that, though often they woke together.

But then she set about to readying herself for the event. The wedding would take place in the late afternoon, followed by a dinner and dancing. Mostly, people from the village had been invited. Distant relatives. And of course, Matías’s grandfather would be making the trip, even though his health made it very difficult.

That made Camilla feel as though a weight was settled on her chest. Matías’s family was a source of such pain to him, she was angry that his grandfather was intruding on their day. Except, the day would not exist if not for his grandfather. Truly, he was the cause of it. It was more. He was the reason they were doing this.

And she knew that. Truly she did. But sometimes, that twinge around her heart made it difficult to fully internalize. To fully believe. Because it felt like more. Even though it shouldn’t, it did.

There were things about it that felt so very real. So real they hurt.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, now more used to this glossier version of herself.

She was wearing a veil that reached the ground, blended together with the soft, gauzy fabric of her dress. Her lipstick was dark, drawing attention to her mouth, matching the dramatic winged eyeliner that the stylist had put together for her.

She felt beautiful. But it had nothing to do with the makeup. Nothing to do with the dress. And everything to do with the past week spent in Matías’s arms.

He never made her feel like he wished she were another woman.

She had worried for a time that he would prefer Liliana. Had worried that he was fantasizing about the petite blonde while they were in bed together. But it become clear quickly that he had a deep appreciation for her athletic body. And all the things she could do with it. She might be inexperienced, but she was physically able, and he took great advantage of that.

Much to both of their delight.

That made her smile. Smile as Maria, the housekeeper, handed her the simple, deep crimson bouquet. Continued smiling as she walked down the stairs of the house and into the foyer.

“Everything is set up outside,” the older woman said. “And they will be ready for you in a moment. I will signal you when it is time.”

She couldn’t believe the moment had arrived. And yet, it seemed like an entire lifetime in the making. As if all of this, her relationship with Matías, had been destined to be from the beginning.

This wasn’t real. It wasn’t. What was real had been that first time they had made love. That was Matías and Camilla.

This was for the audience. This was for his grandfather. And she had to remember that. Had to try to find the practical woman she was, buried underneath the makeup. Beneath the bridal gown that made all this feel like a beautiful waking dream when she knew full well it was a simple business transaction.

Maria rushed outside and Camilla took a deep breath, pressing her hands against her stomach.

“Well,” came a voice from behind her. “Don’t you make a radiant bride.”

She turned, and her heart hit her sternum hard. For the man standing in front of her was not Matías. He was tall, darkly handsome and resembled her fiancée just enough that she knew exactly who he was.

He possessed the same sort of magnetism, the same height and breadth. But there was something menacing about him. Something that went beyond dangerous. Something deadly.

“Diego, I presume,” she said.

“You make this sound very like an overdramatic soap opera,” he drawled, moving closer to her. “I must say, I am impressed with my brother’s resourcefulness. Often, his scruples prevent him from claiming certain victories. I myself have never understood why he’d limit himself the way he does.”

“I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about,” she said. “Matías is my lover. He has been. Liliana’s defection was only a good thing for us.”

She did not know where she was drawing the strength to come at him like this. Except, it was the story that she and Matías had agreed on, a distortion of the truth to show the world why he was choosing to marry her, and it was not his day to wed beautiful, pale Liliana.

Because if it was, her heart would have broken into a million pieces and shattered on the ground.

She would rather this—this temporary union that might turn to nothing in the end—than watch him marry another woman. A marriage he had meant to be forever, leaving no chance for them to have anything more later on.

“It is a very nice story,” Diego said. “But I already read it in the paper. You know, my brother fancies himself a good man, but he is not so different from me. He simply draws lines around moral dilemmas as he sees fit. And I have never seen the point of doing so. He decides that certain actions are right, and certain actions are wrong. He has decided that his motivation for inheriting the rancho is higher than mine, and therefore, he must win at this game. I require no motivation of myself beyond my need to win. To be satisfied. I don’t need to pretend I am being good.”

“Is that why you took Liliana?”

A smile curved one side of his mouth upward. “She was simply a means to an end. Like everything else.”

“Did she go with you of her own free will? Or did you kidnap her?”

He chuckled. “Oh, I kidnapped her. But she was convinced quickly enough to marry me. I just had to have her throw out that lie to Matías so he wouldn’t come searching for her. He’s not very trusting. He believed so quickly that she would betray him. It’s a character flaw, for sure. If I were you, I would watch out for that later on. If he were to walk in now, I imagine he would have a lot of follow-up questions for you. Particularly if he were to walk in when you were in my embrace.”

Diego took another step toward her, and Camilla took a step away. “Don’t come anywhere near me,” she said. “You’re a villain.”

He laughed. “To you. But a villain is his own hero. I read that somewhere once. I quite like it. Although, I am not overly concerned with being either. I’m simply concerned with winning.”

“Well, Matías and I are getting married today. So you’re not going to win.”

“Am I not? Because I will get my share of the family fortune. If I choose to press the issue with my lawyer, I will probably end up with a stake in my brother’s company.” That dark gaze turned cruel. “And he has had to settle for second best when it comes to wives. Yes, I think my victory, while not total, was handily enough done.”

The door to the house opened again, and Maria waved her on. “It is time,” she said.

“I had better go take my place in the audience, then,” Diego said. “But rest assured and remember this. My brother might talk about being good. He might talk about doing the right thing, and in the end he might do the right thing by you, whatever that means. If it looks like a permanent marriage, or an attempt at commitment. But he will not love you. That is something the men in our family are incapable of.”

Then he left her standing there, feeling diminished. Her heart feeling torn in two. He had not said anything she hadn’t already thought to be true. Hadn’t dropped any grand revelations on her. And still, he had accomplished everything he had set out to do. He had sent her out into the blinding sunlight on shaking legs. Had planted doubts inside her when before she had been quite content walking toward that while knowing that in the end, this would end as nothing.

But now Diego’s words were swirling inside her, painful, horrendous. And she realized it was reality. He had made it impossible to pretend that this was going to end as a fairy tale. He had made it impossible for her to cling to that last shred of fantasy, which she had to admit to herself as she made her way toward the site of the wedding, she had been doing.

But then she came to the head of the aisle, and all the guests stood and turned, and she saw Matías standing there, dark, handsome and certain.

So very like his brother, and yet not.

And she realized that none of it mattered. Because there was only one choice to make. There was only one direction she was going to walk.

Toward Matías. No matter what.