Chapter Sixteen
Olympia
The next morning I stand in Rafael’s bedroom, gazing at my reflection in the full-length mirror, and am pleased with myself.
The beautiful scarlet gown he bought me fits to perfection, hugging my curves and accentuating the slight bump of my pregnancy.
And I’ve just spent a happy half an hour playing with all my new make-up.
I’ve put on the red lipstick. I know how much he likes it.
We’re getting married this morning and there’s a tight ball of nerves sitting in my stomach. I can’t stop thinking about what he told me last night, about his parents, about how much he loved them, and about the anger in his voice when he called his father a coward.
My heart hurt for him then, for his anger and for the pain of the love he so clearly still feels, no matter what he said.
I only wanted him to know that it’s okay to be angry, but it’s also okay to still love someone who hurt you.
It doesn’t mean you forgive them for what they did, it’s merely an acknowledgement of what’s in your heart.
You can love someone and be furious with them, and that’s difficult.
I didn’t have his losses, not in the same way.
Yes, I lost my mother, but I can barely remember her.
I never knew my father, and my only experience of a family involved blood and pain.
But that flammable, complicated mix of anger and love is what I feel for my brother, and I know how it can eat away at you, burn you.
No wonder Rafael’s so fierce and intense, if he’s got that kind of rocket fuel driving him.
‘You look beautiful,’ Rafael’s deep voice says from the doorway, interrupting my reverie.
I turn and then have to catch my breath. He’s standing there, framed by the doorway, dressed in a black suit, a white shirt and a red silk tie the exact colour of my gown. He looks dark and dangerous, and so delicious I want to eat him alive.
‘So do you,’ I say, because it’s true.
He gives me a hungry smile, his gaze following the line of my body all the way down to my feet and then back up again. Then he moves, coming into the room and over to where I’m standing. He’s holding a box in his hand. ‘You’re missing one thing,’ he says.
‘Not another box,’ I say.
‘Yes. And I’m not apologising for it.’ His gaze glitters as he takes the top off the box.
All the air rushes from my lungs as I look to see what’s inside.
Nestled in layers of tissue is the most incredible-looking jewelled dragonfly. It’s nothing like the cheap ones I bought back in Singapore. This is all delicate platinum, mother of pearl, emeralds, rubies, sapphires…
Discarding the box, Rafael gently lifts it from the tissue and slides it into my hair, his touch gentle. His dark gaze is ferocious. ‘There,’ he murmurs. ‘Now you’re absolutely perfect.’
For the second time since I’ve been here, I feel my eyes prickle with unexpected tears, my chest tight.
This marriage is only for our child, I know that, and yet this dragonfly hair clip is deeply personal.
It’s about us, about the pet name he calls me ever since Singapore, and for a moment I get a flash of what our marriage could be if this gift actually meant something, if we were really in love with each other.
He burns so bright, this fierce, intense man, and being loved by him would be…
Don’t go there. Because he won’t give it to you.
I look away abruptly, unable to hold his gaze any longer, pretending to admire the clip in the mirror. ‘Thank you,’ I murmur, glancing at him in the glass. ‘It’s beautiful, Rafael.’
If he noticed my tears, he gives no sign. ‘Not as beautiful as you.’
I want to tell him it’s the world’s corniest line, but I can’t because it doesn’t feel corny in this moment.
He’s not smiling, he’s staring at me with such intensity I feel as if I’m going to spontaneously combust right there and then.
I need to break the tension somehow, so I look away, examine my lipstick one last time, then say breezily, ‘Is it time?’
‘It is.’ He extends a hand. ‘Come, dragonfly.’
I take it and a sudden rush of apprehension fills me, yet his hand is warm, his fingers strong and somehow reassuring. Still, as he leads me from the bedroom and down the stairs to the living area, my heart is beating fast and hard.
I’m really marrying him, aren’t I? He’s going to be my husband.
My mouth dries and I swallow as I see the priest standing in front of the Christmas tree.
Beside him is another man, very tall and broad, dressed in a long black, beautifully tailored overcoat.
His inky hair is tinged with white at the temples, his features sharp, cruel almost, and he exudes a magnetism that just about overwhelms everything in the room.
Fear curls around my heart and, as if he somehow senses it, Rafael’s fingers squeeze mine reassuringly.
He says something in Italian and there is a quick discussion between him, the priest and the dangerous stranger.
The stranger’s eyes are pure silver as he looks at me, and Rafael says something to him that sounds like a warning.
The man’s mouth curls and he turns, making a gesture at the priest and saying something that I don’t need to know Italian to understand.
He wants to get this over and done with.
Rafael doesn’t bother to introduce him and I don’t ask as the priest beckons us to stand in front of him.
His accent is thick, but, with Rafael’s help, I manage to understand him, and am able to repeat my vows in Italian.
I’m too busy thinking about my pronunciation to dwell on the ceremony itself, and before I can think straight, I find myself holding my hand out and Rafael is sliding the ring onto my finger.
He obviously had that delivered yesterday too, as well as the ring he presents to me so I can put it on his finger.
Minutes later, we’re husband and wife, and Rafael has pulled me close, his mouth covering mine in a hungry, possessive kiss. The stranger says something in an amused voice and Rafael lifts his head, saying something in return that makes the other man laugh.
There is some discussion afterwards and then some documents to sign, all the while Italian is spoken fast and furious around me. Then the dangerous stranger is gone and the priest with him, and I’m finally alone with my new husband.
‘Who was that?’ I ask as he returns to the living area after seeing them out.
‘Our witness,’ Rafael says. ‘Vincenzo Argenti, head of the Argenti family. I worked for his consiglieri.’
Oh, right. ‘So he’s…what? The local don?’
Rafael snorts. ‘If you can call the head of one of Sicily’s most powerful Cosa Nostra families the “local don”, then yes, he is.’
No wonder he looked so dangerous. ‘Surely he’s too important to be a random witness?’
Rafael’s smile is all teeth. ‘The Argenti family owed me a favour and so I decided to use it to get a priest to marry us. Then Signore Argenti thought it would be amusing to be the witness.’
There’s something about that smile of his. Something…edged, savage almost, and it makes me suspicious. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?’
He continues to smile like a panther with a fresh kill, feral with satisfaction. ‘Your brother is on his way here.’
Shock slides like ice water down my spine. ‘What?’
Rafael’s eyes glitter. ‘My contact in Athens notified me that he took a jet to Palermo this morning. He’ll be here soon, I suspect.’
I have to catch my breath, stop my brain spinning in wild circles. Ulysses is on his way here, after I told him not to come.
Did you really think he’d listen to you?
I hoped he might, but of course he didn’t. He never does. He doesn’t care what I want, all that matters to him is my safety and the fact that I’m safe right here wouldn’t occur to him, even when I flat out told him so.
And Rafael didn’t tell you.
A sharp anger threads through the shock. I stare into his black eyes, seeing the triumph. ‘You didn’t tell me,’ I say. ‘Why not? Did you think I’d leave if I knew he was coming?’
He doesn’t miss a beat. ‘I don’t know, would you?’
‘No,’ I say flatly, angry at his doubt, angry that he hasn’t been honest with me. ‘I promised I’d marry you and I meant it.’
‘It’s too late now anyway.’ He gives me that same hungry smile. ‘He can’t take you away from me. You’re his heir and now you’re mine.’
I blink, my temper rising higher. ‘You promised me you’d drop this revenge plan.’
‘But I have.’ He holds out his hands. ‘Now you’re mine I don’t have to do anything more. You’ll inherit his company and so will I.’
I blink again, the cold feeling inside me intensifying.
He didn’t tell me deliberately. And he didn’t listen when I told him I didn’t want him to continue his revenge.
He didn’t listen as my brother doesn’t listen.
He said he wouldn’t treat me the way Ulysses treats me, but he’s doing that right now, isn’t he?
He manipulated me for his own ends and now we’re married, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
On cue, I hear the distant sound of a helicopter. It’s getting closer.
My brother is here.