Chapter 25 Charlotte
Charlotte
There is no pain like a migraine. Sometimes I could feel one coming on, and sometimes an attack came from nowhere.
This one had taken me by stealth. It was probably the stress of lying through my teeth all day and then the pressure changes inside the private jet.
I let my head rest against the leather car seat.
Rome flashed by in a blur of ancient ruins, cobbled streets, and picturesque moonlit piazzas, and I had no energy to look.
“You OK?” Cole spoke without looking up from the laptop balanced on his knees.
A pulse thundered behind my right eye, and pain radiated down the side of my head. The dress weighed heavy on my shoulders and the fabric pinched. Enough. Only sleep would fix this. Cool sheets. Darkness. Tomorrow would be a new day. “Fine.”
The car stopped, and the driver opened the door. I stepped out onto a narrow walkway lit by vintage lamps. I’d expected a characterless luxury resort, but the tall, crooked building ahead looked charming with an unassuming stuccoed facade, shuttered windows, and ornate balconies.
Cole joined me. “La Dolce Vita. It’s one of the best hotels in the world. The penthouse suite has the most amazing view of the city.”
La Dolce Vita? A shock ran through me. “Dad talked about this place.”
“He stayed here?”
No. He’d never have been able to afford that. Dad had lived in university dorms while he studied for his thesis. “He visited. He was interested in the crypts underneath.”
“Crypts?”
“This hotel is famous. There’s an entire network of ancient tunnels under here.”
“You know more about it than me.” He raised a wry eyebrow, but there was a hint of unease in his voice. “I’m more interested in the Michelin-star restaurant.”
Most married couples probably have the hottest sex of their life after their wedding.
Cole and I were not most married couples.
This was bad even for a fake wedding night.
We were in Rome, in an unfathomably luxurious hotel, and I barely had the will to look out of the window.
Instead, I had mind-bending agony and an uninterested groom who’d immediately disappeared to the balcony with his laptop.
Cole flicked the light switch, and blinding light flooded the enormous bedroom. Gold glinted on every surface, dazzling me. The suite was the epitome of Italian elegance, all marble and clean lines, but in its fully shining glory it was about to melt my brain.
“Have you seen my laptop charger?”
Pain blazed at my temple. “Turn it off!”
“What are you doing in the dark?”
Tears filled my eyes. My voice came out an anguished cry. “Please. Just turn off the light. I’m begging you.”
He flicked the switch again. A strip of light from the bathroom highlighted his silhouette in the doorway. He watched me as I rifled around inside my suitcase on the bed. Even this simple movement felt impossible.
“What are you looking for?”
Please go. “Nothing. Your charger is on the dining table.”
I let out a moan of frustration as I threw aside toiletries and T-shirts.
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he said quietly.
“I have a migraine. I need my drugs.”
I found my triptan nasal spray in a zipped pocket.
Finally! I wedged the cool plastic into my nostril and pressed the trigger on the canister.
A disgusting taste hit the back of my throat.
I sank down on the bed with my head cradled in my hands, trying not to cry because it would only make the pain worse.
My tight dress dug into my ribs with each labored breath.
Cole moved closer. “What do you need?”
“I have to wait for this to kick in. That’s if I got it early enough for it to work.”
A small sob escaped me. I hoped so. Sometimes these things lasted for days, and we were in this place I’d always dreamed of visiting.
I stumbled to stand in front of the mirror and fiddled with the back of my dress.
Tiff had laced me into it this morning. It was a beautiful dress, but I’d been wearing it for hours in two different time zones, and if someone set fire to it, I wouldn’t miss it.
Cole stood behind me, his tense, hard body radiating heat. “Let me help you.”
“I’m fine.”
Gently, he caught my hands and held them still. “Stop fussing. I’ve got it.”
His hands worked carefully to unfasten the delicate buttons and untie the tight laces at my back.
With each gentle tug, he created space for me to breathe a little easier.
I watched his focused expression in the mirror.
Despite the overwhelming pain, his warm breath on the back of my neck kicked my body into alert.
My nerves thrummed with an unwelcome thrill.
He looked more captivating than ever as a groom.
I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off him all day.
He caught my gaze in the mirror. “How often do you get these migraines?”
I’d been staring at him too boldly, but I didn’t have the energy to feel guilty. “Once a month. Twice if I’m unlucky.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
“Have you seen a specialist?”
It took too much effort to talk. “On the NHS? I’ll die of old age before I get halfway up the waiting list. Nothing helps anyway. It’s just something I have to deal with.”
A wave of nausea gripped me. I groaned and squeezed my eyes tight.
“That’s it. I’m calling a doctor.”
“No. I just need to lie in the dark and give the medicine a chance to work.”
He pressed his lips. “I’m booking you in with my doctor as soon as we get home. I’m not having you suffering like this.”
He loosened the last ribbon, and the dress gaped open at the back. I took a deep breath. The pulse in my head was dimming a little. “Thank you.”
He pulled back the heavy comforter on the enormous bed. “Let’s get you in here.”
“I can manage.”
“You don’t have to manage. I’m helping.”
Every movement triggered another pulse of pain. His commanding voice left no room for dissent, and I didn’t have it in me to protest. It hurt too much to talk.
“What causes migraines?”
“No one knows. Probably all that suppressed feminine rage. Please shut up. We need to stop talking to each other. It hurts.”
He raised a dark brow. “Understood.”
Gently, he helped me out of the heavy dress, peeling it off until I stood in my underwear.
The bridal lingerie Cole—or, more likely, a put-upon assistant—had picked out was sinfully sexy.
My boobs nestled in a structured balconette bra, and a white lace suspender belt held up sheer thigh-high stockings.
At least the dim light hid my embarrassment.
I fiddled with the suspender belt clips, trying to free my stockings. They were so bloody fiddly and everything was too difficult.
“Stop.” Cole caught my fingers and held them still.
Silently, he reached down and unfastened each clip. His deft fingers brushing my thighs made heat pool in my lower belly. Without a word, he dropped to his knees and slid the first stocking down. Cold air caressed my skin as he worked the silky fabric gently over my calf.
“Lift your foot,” he commanded.
I rested a hand on his shoulder and lifted my foot so he could pull the stocking over my ankle.
Repeating the motion, he peeled my other stocking down slowly.
His unwavering gaze held mine as his fingers traced the skin at the back of my knee, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Shivers raced through my body. I couldn’t lie.
I’d played out the scenario of Cole on his knees for me many times before.
His cool, unhurried words from when he’d made me come rang in my ears. You needed this. Didn’t you, Charlotte?
Cole was so skilled with his fingers, I couldn’t help but wonder about his tongue.
I’d never had a man go down on me before.
It wasn’t something I’d ever imagined I’d enjoy.
It made me feel too awkward, but with Cole I just knew it would be different.
He never made me feel awkward. It was always so natural between us.
“You said you never kneel for anyone.” My voice came out a husky whisper.
He tipped his head up and his dark eyes glimmered earnestly. “You must be my exception.”
Cole pressed a wet flannel on my head, and the cold relief made me moan. A gentle click sounded on the bedside table. “Water here.”
“Thanks.”
The mattress depressed as he lay down in the darkness next to me.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
He’d already helped me into my pajamas and guided me between cool sheets. I’d been able to slip my bra off discreetly through the arm of my pajama shirt.
“Nothing. You don’t have to stay.”
“I’m not leaving you alone like this.” He rested his head on the pillow. “I’ll stay just in case you think of something.”
I had no strength to argue, and I didn’t want to.
His calm presence soothed me. Nobody took my migraines seriously.
Tiff dismissed them as headaches, even though she was a drama queen if she caught even a sniffle.
I closed my eyes, praying for the fog that clouded my brain to lift.
The medicine had taken the edge off the pain, but a dull pulse still thrummed behind my eye.
“I don’t want to miss out on Rome. I’ve always wanted to be here.”
“If you’re not better in the morning, I’ll get you a doctor first thing.”
“What are we doing tomorrow?”
He shifted his position on the bed. “I’ve organized a private tour for you. The guide will take you to the sights.”
“What about you?”
“I have work to catch up on.”
I rubbed the tight tendons at the back of my neck.
He was planning to spend the honeymoon working?
It’s not like I had legitimate grounds for company, since it wasn’t a real honeymoon, but I’d at least hoped for a companion to explore with.
Disappointment ground in my gut, but I kept it from my voice.
“Are you going to take any time out to explore?”
“I’ve got a lot on.”
“But this is Rome. History-nerd heaven. You can’t just stay in the hotel.”
“I’ll survive,” he said quietly.
“You’re not even coming to the Sistine Chapel?”
“No.”
A pang pulled at my heart. I could convince myself it didn’t matter, but it would be a lie.
All of these sights would be better in Cole’s company.
Was he really going to send me off alone with a guide?
This was a sham marriage, but it didn’t mean we couldn’t negotiate it in a companionable way.
I’d expected too much of this man, and given his track record, I should have known better.
In the dark silence, the conversation we’d had earlier drifted to mind and rankled me anew. “I meant what I said before. I’m not changing my name.”
“We need to share a name. It’s about how it looks. Let’s not talk about it now. You need to rest.”
Another wave of sickness passed over me. Pain and frustration sharpened my voice. “This isn’t me just trying to be awkward. Plenty of people don’t take their spouse’s name. It’s not unusual.”
“Not now,” he said quietly.
Resolve hardened my heart. I had no energy, but I’d have to fight him on it.
It was too important to back down. “Give me this one thing, Cole. I don’t care about the rest of it.
You can bring me on honeymoon and pawn me off with a guide because you can’t be bothered to spend time with me.
Work yourself into the ground in the most beautiful city in the world if that’s what you want.
I’ll take it without complaint, but please give me this.
I’m an Ackroyd.” My voice broke. “I can’t lose another piece of my dad. ”
Silence. Cold water from the compress on my head dripped uncomfortably down my neck. Cole would never capitulate. “What about Ackroyd-Thorner?”
“It sounds ridiculous. Too long,” he said.
“How are we going to get through this year if you’re never willing to compromise?”
Silence wrapped around us again.
“You’re right.” His low, clipped voice shocked me. He’d been quiet for so long I thought he’d fallen asleep.
“I am?”
“A marriage is about compromise; a fake one, even more so. This is a partnership. We’ll both be Ackroyds.”
My heart pounded. “You’re not serious?”
“As long as we’re a united front, it doesn’t matter which name.” He turned onto his side, his face inches from mine. “If you need anything tonight, let me know.”
My eyes filled with sudden tears. If only Dad were here. He’d be touched by Cole as an Ackroyd. I couldn’t think about Dad too much. He’d been at the forefront of everything today, walking beside me every step.
I kept my gratitude simple so as not to burst into tears. “Thank you. I think Dad would have loved that.”
His low voice came out rough. “Good. I’ve never liked being a Thorner anyway.”
“I really missed him today.” A hard lump made my throat ache.
I couldn’t stop the tears I’d been bottling inside all day springing to the surface. Then I was crying. My whole purpose had been taking care of Dad, and now I had no purpose. It wasn’t fair. None of it. How could anyone suffer the way Dad had? How could someone be gone forever? It was senseless.
Without a word, Cole pulled me into his arms and held me while I cried. My throat was raw, but it was impossible to stop. I’d been so stoic all day, but I couldn’t be anymore.
“I miss him. I miss him. I miss him.”
He stroked my hair. “I know. It will get easier.”
“I’m on my own now.”
“You have your sister and your nieces,” he said, more softly than I’d ever heard.
“They have their own lives.”
The tears kept coming. Cole held me tight, but I clung to him even tighter.
This man who’d known my father, too. This man who my father had loved once.
Who I’d loved. I cried until my body was exhausted.
My eyes burned, and my body was weak from the effort.
I thought I heard Cole’s soft murmur before sleep claimed me.
“You’re not on your own. You’ll always have me.”