He had to get the papers signed as soon as possible so he could get back to a life he recognized, a life under his control.
But first things first.
Today was their wedding day.
Vin looked at his bride now, as she stood across from him in the villa’s courtyard with the view of the wide Tuscan fields, as Giuseppe, as mayor of Borgierra, spoke the words that would bind the two of them in marriage.
In the distance, Vin could hear the plaintive cry of birds as they soared across the bright blue sky, as they were watched by Joanne and Maria and the other friends and Borgia relatives who’d packed in around them.
Vin couldn’t look away from Scarlett’s beautiful face.
Her warm green eyes sparkled in the sun, shining with joyful tears as she smiled up at him. She was wearing a simple sheath dress in creamy duchesse satin, purchased in Milan, altered for Scarlett’s advanced state of pregnancy. Her red hair tumbled down her shoulders, and she had a tiny fascinator with a single cream-colored feather and a bit of netting that his sister had selected. Large diamond studs to match her ring now sparkled in her ears, a gift from Vin. Maria had wanted her to hold a bouquet of white lilies, but on this one detail, Scarlett was firm: no lilies. “They’re not just stinky, they’re appallingly overpriced.”
Vin smiled at the thought of Scarlett being worried about the price of flowers, when the diamonds she was wearing cost hundreds of thousands of euros.
Instead, she held a bouquet of autumn wildflowers. It was just like her, he thought. The vivid blooms were as bright as her hair, and the scent as sweet as her soul. But the wild roses still had thorns—little flashes of temper and fire.
Solemnly, Vin, then Scarlett, spoke the words that would bind them together as husband and wife. He didn’t exhale until it was done and they were actually married. After everything it had taken to get her to the altar, it was surprisingly easy.
No man could now tear them asunder.
“You may kiss the bride,” Giuseppe said happily.
Scarlett Ravenwood—Mrs. Scarlett Borgia now—looked up at him with joy suffusing her beautiful face.
Looking into her eyes, Vin felt dizzy with happiness. She was wearing his ring. Carrying his baby. Bearing his name. He hadn’t felt like this since—
A cold chill went down his spine.
The last time he’d felt this happy had been in this very same villa, that Christmas when Giuseppe and Joanne had asked him to live with them. At fifteen, for the first time in his life, he’d felt wanted and loved. But within a week, he’d lost everything.
Looking at his wife’s beautiful, joyful face, Vin felt a sharp twist in the gut, a darkness curling around his heart like a poisonous mist.
Letting himself be happy, letting himself care, was like asking for abandonment. For loneliness. For pain.
He couldn’t let her change him. He couldn’t let himself be vulnerable. He had to be tough. Strong. He had to keep his fists up.
“You can kiss her, son,” Giuseppe repeated in English, smiling.
Lowering his head, Vin kissed her. The touch of her lips electrified him like a blessing—or a curse.
He heard applause and teasing catcalls from the loving, kind people around him. He wrenched away from the kiss. Staring at Scarlett, he suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Giuseppe, Joanne, Maria and even, especially, Scarlett were so wrong to love him. If they only knew the truth—
As beaming family and friends came forward to offer their congratulations, Vin loosened the black tie of his tuxedo, feeling attacked by all the overwhelming, suffocating, terrifying love around him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS SCARLETT SPOKE her wedding vows, looking up at Vin’s dark eyes, she felt like every dream she’d ever had was coming true today.
Every day had been a new dream, from afternoons spent together in the cool autumn countryside, walking hand in hand as they talked about everything and nothing, to the deliciously hot nights they’d explored each other in bed, doing things that had nothing to do with talking. He made her feel...joyful. Sexy. Exhilarated.
He’d made her feel free. Like he accepted her just as she was. Like he...cared for her.
And she’d come to care for him, to respect and admire him. She’d started to even... But the thought scared her.