Chapter Eleven
‘Valenti, the city is as splendid as you left it many weeks ago. I would be grateful if you paid attention to what my fiancée’s saying to you?’
Valenti turned from the third-floor window and faced the lavish living room in the Palacio Domene where the umpteenth wedding meeting was being held. He ignored his twin and summoned a smile for his soon-to-be sister-in-law. ‘Perdóname,’ he offered. ‘You were saying?’
Sabeen’s wide smile was indulgent, then it grew pensive. ‘Perhaps we should pick this up another time—’
‘Absolutely not,’ Teo interjected, reaching for her hand and dropping a lingering kiss on the back of it. ‘We’ve worked around Valenti for long enough.’ His twin shot him an exasperated glare. ‘If you haven’t noticed, the world indeed revolves around my love, so do me a favour and pay attention?’
He gave a brisk nod. ‘We’ve discussed the schedule. My suit is a perfect fit, and my speech will be ready as promised. What else is there?’
‘We noticed you brought a plus one,’ Teo said.
He stiffened. ‘I didn’t realise that would be a problem considering your guest list is well over eleven hundred. A logistical nightmare if you care to know, but that too is well in hand.’
‘It’s not a problem,’ Sabeen hastened to say, her eyes locking on Teo’s before returning to Valenti. ‘But I…we wondered whether you…she would be willing to be in the official wedding party?’
‘What my love is saying is that she’d hate to put anyone’s pretty nose out of joint. So what’s it to be?’
His gaze flicked back to the window, towards his home in the Residence, one of the dozen cottages he and Teo preferred to stay in instead of the Palacio Domene.
When he and Teo had got over being excluded from royal life as children and young adults, they’d been grateful for the separate residence.
For one thing, it’d taken them out of the chaos and dysfunction of witnessing their mother play out her dramatic displeasure at not being the queen their father had chosen after discovering he’d got two women separately pregnant within weeks of each other.
King Alfonse had chosen to marry his eldest’s child’s mother, leaving the woman who’d borne him twins feeling endlessly aggrieved and bitter.
These days, Valenti was thankful for having his own space to brood in peace, out of the view of inquisitive palace eyes.
To ponder what the hell was happening to him. Ponder why his every waking thought seemed to circle around Lotte Lillegard. Indeed, to wonder what the very big deal would be if he—
‘You forgot one thing,’ his brother’s voice came from behind him.
Valenti turned, surprise jolting through him when he realised he’d pivoted towards the window again, his focus on the villa’s miniature turret he could just about make out.
Was Lotte resting? Was she bored? Angry?
Or wearing that sombre and bruised look that punched a hole in his chest whenever he saw it because he was fairly sure he’d been the one to put it there.
That his emotion-free choices weren’t reaping the sound outcomes he’d envisaged. That—
‘This is the part where you ask me what.’
Stifling a growl, he ruthlessly stifled a twinge of jealousy and sharpened his focus on his twin. Noted the absence of shadows in his brother’s eyes, replaced by a deep contentment that drew a sharper awareness to the yawning chasms he inhabited. ‘What?’ he echoed less gruffly.
His twin’s happiness was undeniable. And Valenti would honour that if it was the last thing he did. Especially after the suffering his brother had endured.
‘You haven’t given me an update on the stag party to end all parties. You do know it’s only a matter of days, right?’
Biting back another growl, he glanced around, ready to plead out of this social nightmare. Only to discover that they were alone, Sabeen and her assistants having departed while he was preoccupied.
‘If you’re looking for Sabeen to save you, she left to ask Lotte herself if she wanted to be in the bridal party.’ At Valenti’s stiffening, his twin laughed. ‘Yeah, you dropped the ball on that one. And my beautiful wife doesn’t mess around when she wants something.’
‘She’s not your wife yet,’ he pointed out dryly.
‘Oh yes, she is,’ Teo parried with quiet, resounding certainty. ‘She’s already mine in every way that counts. The wedding is just a formality and an excuse for a party. Now about the stag party…’
He was happy for his twin.
And that chasm? It was merely the grounding signpost signalling he needed not to recross lines he’d painstakingly redrawn.
Because while he could handle physical landmines all day long, he saw no dishonour in backing away from emotional ones.
Even if doing so took every last ounce of willpower he possessed.
Even if doing so felt like he was ripping his own chest out.
If King Azar’s declaration of love to his wife on international TV had earned them most romantic meme of the decade, then Teo Domene and Sabeen El-Maleh’s wedding of the decade deserved its laurels.
Three hours past the fateful, breathtaking event and Lotte was still pinching herself at the fairy tale dream of it all.
It’d started with Sabeen arriving at Valenti’s Residence to ask her to be part of her bridal party, an invitation Lotte had been delighted to accept, partly because it’d added to the business of working furiously from morning till mid-afternoon on her charity work, then posting on her social media platforms until late evenings before throwing herself into physical activities like swimming or working out in Valenti’s basement gym.
It filled up her time. It exhausted her so she could fall asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
It didn’t stop her dreaming of Valenti, but it was a small mercy.
She blew out a breath now, her damp palm sliding over her thighs then glanced down anxiously to see whether she’d marred the cowl-necked, blush-pink silk dress, with its delicate gold and saffron piping—Sabeen’s beloved late grandmother’s favourite colours.
It fitted her like a dream, a testament to Sabeen’s talent.
The last thing Lotte wanted was to ruin it.
But her shakiness wouldn’t subside. Glancing around to ensure she was alone, she plucked her phone from the tiny matching crystal-studded clutch, and activated the social media site, her breath catching all over again at the post.
Three-point-seven million likes. And counting.
Her eyes flicked to the photo of herself at last night’s rehearsal dinner. She’d respected Teo and Sabeen’s privacy and hadn’t divulged the occasion or venue.
Breath strangled, her gaze landed on the left corner, and the reason the post had gone viral.
She’d thought she was alone. Apparently not. She’d unwittingly captured Valenti just out of direct shot, his reflection caught in a mirror.
A reflection of him staring at her with unmissable hunger. Lotte had stopped reading the comments when it’d surged into the thousands, but the general tone swung between deep green envy and avid followers thirsting over him and asking if he was her new love.
Her new love.
Her heart lurched wildly each time the phrase reeled through her brain, a recurrence which had gathered serious momentum in the last few hours.
A phrase her heart had accepted as its abiding truth.
Valenti was her new love. Her old love. Her eternal love. She loved him stern or half smiling, broken and guilt-ridden, remote and breathtaking.
‘Lotte.’
The deep, sombre voice made her jump, her thoughts making her flush with anxiety when she turned to face him. Faced the decision she’d made in the cathedral while watching another Domene claim his woman.
She wanted to be claimed by this intensely magnetic man wearing his House of Domene wedding tuxedo that elevated his beguiling good looks to stratospheric levels.
Who’d honoured her sister and kept his word to look after a near stranger even though he’d been grieving and suffering his own shattered dreams. Who’d left women slack-jawed and starry-eyed up and down the aisle when he’d stood next to his twin.
Heavy residues of those sensations pranced through her now as she faced him.
‘Yes? Did you want me?’
His eyes darkened, then blazed in that way she so yearned for. But far too soon, the barricades descended.
‘I’m required to dance with every member of the bridal party, I’m told. It’s your turn.’
Her heart pinched hard, but she summoned a smile. ‘Let’s do it then.’
If he clocked her false gaiety, he didn’t comment on it, merely held out his hand and waited for her to come to him. To place her hand in his, touch him for the first time in weeks, and confirm to her thrilled dismay that the galvanised magic he wrought within her hadn’t waned one iota.
Breath lodged firmly in her throat, she followed him onto the dance floor.
Quivered from head to toe when he pulled her close and began to sway with suave ease that should’ve been surprising considering his eternal sombreness, but somehow wasn’t because he was Prince Valenti, the man who could click his fingers and have his every wish delivered.
Lotte wanted one of his wishes to be her. And…perhaps she knew the path forward to achieving that goal?
‘You look breathtaking.’
Shock jolted through her, her gaze flying up to meet his. From the gruff delivery, she wondered if he hadn’t meant to say that. Just as he hadn’t meant to be caught looking at her like that in the photo?
Nerves consuming her, she licked her lips. ‘Thank you.’ Another minute passed, then she cleared her throat. ‘Umm, there’s something you should know…or more like, see?’
One dark eyebrow arched, the flashes of reserve building in his eyes even as he seemed to step closer, his warm body imprinting against hers, his scent invading every corner of her being.
This was her chance. She couldn’t blow it.
‘Sí?’ he prompted at her prolonged silence.
‘I…posted a picture today without realising…you were in it. Until it was too late.’