‘I can’t give you love but I do know what women want and I believe I can make you happy,’ Gianni concluded.
And that little bubble of happiness simply burst right there and then. Her incredible ring cast a fiery rainbow across the table as the light caught it. Not this woman, Gianni, Jo reflected ruefully. You don’t have a clue whatthiswoman you’re marrying wants. And that was hardly surprising when she barely knew herself.
She wouldn’t be putting him on trial as a husband, no, shewasn’t, she reasoned unhappily. She was protecting herself, refusing to give way to his apparent belief that any woman would just fall into bed with him the minute he asked. Jo, he’s a gorgeous, young billionaire, she conceded grudgingly, of course he has lofty expectations that whatever he wants, he will receive. Only marriage should be different, shouldn’t it? Equal partners and all that. Gianni would have to make an effort. Was it humanly possible that he hadneverhad to make an effort to persuade a woman into bed before?
Gianni did not savour the chilly welcome of a cold shower instead of a warm companion in his bed that night. He was still in shock at Jo’s conditions. He hadn’t been prepared for Jo to dream up something that Machiavellian. No sex. And yet she wanted him. He knew that. He had felt that desire in her just the same as his own.
Why would any adult woman make sex such a stumbling block? Sex was sex...a mere bodily function, an exercise of simple pleasure, Gianni reasoned in bewilderment. Was it some religious thing with her? He was utterly mystified by her attitude. Around him, women usually couldn’t wait to shed their clothes. Now he was marrying one who was making a hard limit of the one thing he was almost convinced he couldn’t live without...and if that was a little glimpse of his future as a respectably married man, he was not impressed by the view.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘ITISTHEmost gorgeous dress,’ Liz Hamilton said softly with pride as she surveyed her granddaughter in her full bridal regalia.
Jo examined her reflection with a rare streak of satisfaction at her appearance. Her gown was quintessentially feminine and the instant it had appeared on the laptop screen set before her, it had stolen her heart. Pearls encrusted the lace corset bodice while the long, narrow skirt descended into fluffy ruffles that showed only a hint of her lace-covered high heels. Long lace gloves completed the look. A lightweight but superbly elegant pearl tiara anchored her upswept hair, courtesy of the pearl set Gianni had removed from his safe and offered her.
But then, Gianni had everything at his fingertips. She had been unaware, prior to their wedding plans, that Gianni utilised his personal wealth in promising investments. He co-owned an internationally famous wedding company, just as he co-owned many of the local businesses—almost everything from the nearest supermarket to the blacksmith’s forge had a Renzetti stake in it. Gianni kept horses and ensuring the necessary services were available made sense. Jo had always wondered why their village seemed to be more populated and prosperous than others nearby and only now did she understand that Renzetti gold powered their presence and success.
The day after she had agreed to marry Gianni the wedding planner from London had arrived to organise everything, from her gown right down to the colour of the napkins at the reception to be held at Belvedere in the ballroom. Professional caterers had been hired. Expense was not an issue withanything! And that was such a total shock from Jo’s point of view because she had never lived in a world in which cost was immaterial. Money had always been in short supply at Ladymead and giving up that mindset was a challenge for her. Initially, Gianni’s lifestyle and spending habits had struck her pious soul as wasteful. Sybil, however, had talked her round with common sense, asking her if she was seriously expecting Gianni to live any way other than with the fabulous opulence that was all he had known since birth. And, of course, that had changed her attitude because she could not imagine Gianni without his spectacular car collection, his stable of thoroughbreds, his discreet security detail or his designer suits.
One surprise had, however, awaited her when she went to her family’s lawyer to check through the prenuptial contract she was to sign before the wedding. There in bold print she had read that the renovation that her family home required, and which Gianni was financing, meant that Gianni had stipulated that their marriage had to last a minimum of five years. That had been unexpected but also just a little gratifying. She had wondered whether or not she should tackle him about that clause.
Did that clause mean that Gianni was ensuring that they stayed together for at least five years for his own personal reasons? Or was it merely the act of a shrewd businessman, who knew that fixing Ladymead’s many deficiencies would cost a fortune and wanted to ensure that he received the fullest possible benefit from his convenient marriage?
Whichever reason had motivated Gianni, Jo had decided not to question it. After all, what difference did it make to her when she had decided to marry him for the sake of her family home and her relatives? And in five years’ time, she told herself staunchly, even if Gianni chose to divorce her, she would still only be twenty-nine years old, an age at which she could more easily move on and make another life for herself, other than that of being a Renzetti wife.
‘It’s not the dress, it’syouin the dress who is gorgeous,’ Sybil insisted fondly as she escorted her great-niece out to the wedding car where her grandmother now awaited her.
‘Let’s hope Gianni thinks so too,’ Jo quipped nervously, because it was his reaction to her appearance that mattered most to her.
And why was that? she asked herself in exasperation. Her thoughts and her emotional involvement in her wedding day were utterly inappropriate for a woman making a marriage of convenience. She wasn’t about to marry some man whom she loved, she reminded herself. She liked Gianni. She found him physically attractive. But that was all, absolutelyall, she assured herself firmly. Getting too attached to Gianni Renzetti would be sheer insanity in such a relationship, one based on practicality more than anything else.
Youarea gold-digger, a little voice whispered deep inside her and she tensed even more. It didn’t matter that Gianni didn’t see her that way at present—who could tell what future changes would occur in their relationship? After all, she was marrying him for his wealth and what that wealth could do for her family and Ladymead.
‘I can feel you trembling beside me,’ her grandmother said worriedly, grasping Jo’s cold hand. ‘What on earth is the matter?’
Jo turned with a soothing smile she thought worthy of an award and replied, ‘I suppose I’m just realising what a big step marriage is.’
‘All that matters at the end of the day is that you love each other, and, the way Gianni looks at you, I have no doubt concerning his feelings,’ the older woman responded calmly.
Neither Trixie nor her grandmother had doubted that Jo and Gianni’s sudden plan to get married related to anything less than a passionate romance. Of course, both her grandmother and her great-aunt were a little naïve in that line, Jo conceded guiltily. Sybil was infinitely more worldly-wise than either.
Mercifully, Gianni had put on a good show when he had been invited over to supper one evening and that hospitality had been returned by a lavish dinner for her family at Belvedere on another night. Yes, Gianni was a smooth act when it came to such familial stuff. He had taken a video of Duffy singing hisCabaretphrases. He had brought another bone for McTavish. He had even let Trixie perform a tarot reading for them both, although at one stage of that rather melodramatic show from her great-aunt Jo had realised that Gianni was trying awfully hard not to laugh out loud. That had been when Trixie had forecast that he would be the father of twins within the year...
The village church loomed in front of the wedding car. It had been a very short drive as the church was built at the edge of village and on the Belvedere estate, funded by the original Renzetti, who had built the house. It was a picturesque Edwardian building surrounded in well-tended lawn and seasonal summer flowers. Jo slid out of the car, careful not to soil her dainty shoes, ruffles or gloves. She rested her hand on her grandmother’s arm.
‘You knocked it right out of the park this time,’ Gianni’s best man murmured, staring down the aisle. ‘She’s lovely.’
Gianni turned his darkly handsome profile and saw his bride. The entire outfit somehow contrived to be the sexiest wedding gown he had ever seen. He wondered if it was the gloves, or the fact that almost every inch of her creamy skin was covered, or that the inescapably elegant line of her slender figure was revealed. He shouldn’t be thinking in those terms, he reminded himself grimly, not without a wedding night ahead. Of course, she could still change her mind...
That single glimpse of Gianni as he turned, the very image of stunning dark good looks, perfectly groomed in formal attire, made Jo’s mouth run even drier. Her breasts tightened, an uncomfortable ache stirring between her thighs in a way that only made her more apprehensive than ever of what their marriage would mean. She didn’t want Gianni to know how much he attracted her and certainly that nobody else had ever had the same effect on her. No way was she planning to make herself into another one of the little toys he took so briefly into his bed. She was worth more than that, way more!
Sunshine cascaded through the stained-glass windows high above the altar, creating a myriad tiny rainbows to dance over the interior. The elderly priest of their parish began the service and the formal vows. Gianni had requested a short service while Jo would have preferred the longer one, but she had kept quiet on that score, reminding herself that they were a fake bridal couple in most ways and only pretending to love and care for each other. In such a ceremony, only the formalities had to be observed.
Gianni threaded the ring on her finger, his heart beating very fast. Her gossamer-fine lace gloves ended at the knuckle, anchored only by the thumb. She repeated the gesture for him. He glanced at the gleaming ring on his hand with a compressed mouth and a stormy look in his dark eyes, recalling his father’s satisfaction when he had announced his plans, wondering why his parent should be so pleased that he should enter an institution that had brought the older man no personal happiness that his son had ever seen.
Jo had to almost trot to stay level with her new husband as he sped them back down the aisle, reluctantly pausing for formal photos while those waiting outside with their phones were immediately approached by security to request that the image be deleted. Gianni hurried her on into the waiting limousine.
‘You look very beautiful,’ Gianni murmured once they were alone. ‘And for some reason I find those gloves outrageously sexy,cara.’