Salvatore stood in front of the bathroom mirror in his hotel suite, adjusting his bow tie, preparing to set off for a livery company dinner in the City.
So he had done it. He had put into motion what surely was the most extreme solution to his infuriating predicament that he could possibly have come up with.
And yet—
His expression changed as he dropped his hands, eyeballing his own reflection. And yet it had simultaneously achieved a very different goal.
Lana was everything he remembered about her and more. Just as stunningly beautiful. He’d sounded brusque, he knew, putting his proposal to her—but he’d needed her to understand right from the off that their marriage was going to be temporary only. Actual marriage—real, lasting marriage—was not for him.
He stared at his reflection for a moment, eyes shadowing. He had his father’s looks, he knew—but was that all he’d inherited from him? Grimly, he suspected not.
Transient affairs—that was his style. His preference. He would not risk anything else.
With an abrupt movement, he turned away. Time to head off for his dinner. And tomorrow he would press ahead with expediting all that had to be done before he could return to Rome—with Lana at his side.