Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
Jasmine stood by the window of a guest room in Emilio’s penthouse while her mother did up the buttons on the back of her wedding dress. She glanced out at Central Park, a view she had woken up to for the past two weeks.
Emilio had helped her move in the morning after the dinner.
She’d been surprised by how little she hated his home.
Sure, a lot of it seemed impersonal. There was so much white here.
White walls. White marble in the kitchen and bathrooms. But the décor was just right.
The bedding in every room was perfect. His kitchen was a dream for any foodie—which, it turned out, he was.
With all the light that poured in through the walls of windows, it all felt so airy. As if he’d invited the outside in.
That didn’t stop Jasmine noticing how little of himself he put on display.
Apart from a singular frame on the mantelpiece holding a picture of a beautiful older woman who must be his mother, there was nothing of him in here.
Not even in his bedroom, which she’d seen once, during the full tour he’d given that first evening.
She knew he had a brother, but there was no evidence of the other De Luca heir in Emilio’s home.
It was strange. If she had a sibling, she would at least have had a picture of them up.
The man himself was warm, charming, arrogant and the most infuriating person she had ever met, but his home was just a beautiful canvas.
The only place that felt different was the rooftop terrace.
Emilio had created an Eden in the middle of the city with trees, flowers and hedges.
A pathway wound through it to a greenhouse filled with various plants.
Jasmine found herself drawn there every evening, and looked forward to her new ritual of taking a cup of coffee and sitting in there where it was tranquil and beautiful.
And that was where she would be married today.
‘How are you feeling, sweetheart?’ her mother asked.
‘I’m not sure.’ While Jasmine was coming to know Emilio a little bit more, she was certainly not in love with him. How could marrying a man she didn’t love be anything but disappointing? But she was excited about what this marriage would mean for her baby.
‘Are you nervous?’
‘Not really.’
‘You know, you can still back out of this marriage,’ Angela said.
‘I thought you liked Emilio.’
‘It’s not that. I know you always think everything through so carefully, but you don’t know each other very well. I worry what will happen later on if you don’t marry for love.’
‘Love is a myth, Mom. You just need to make the best choice with the information presented.’
‘And Emilio is the best choice?’
Jasmine turned and took her mother’s hands in hers. ‘He is.’
Angela was right: they didn’t know each other. But Jasmine was learning there was so much more to Emilio than he let anyone see. Would she ever find the man beneath the playboy? If she should care to.
‘I know he wants to be there for his child, but that doesn’t mean—’
‘It does. Being married to him will give this child things I could only ever dream about.’
‘Was it really so bad for you growing up?’ Angela asked in a gentle voice.
Jasmine could have kicked herself. She didn’t want to hurt her mother; she was only doing what she knew would be best. ‘No, it wasn’t.
But we had some tough years, Mom. I can provide for our baby—I know I can—but I can’t give them what a father can.
I can’t give them what Emilio can. It’s not a bad idea to marry Emilio when I’m doing everything I am for my child’s future. ’
‘Okay,’ Angela said with a sigh. ‘I’ll see you upstairs.’
She turned to leave, but Jasmine halted her with a word. ‘Mom.’ She hurried over to the only person she had ever been able to rely on, to trust, and hugged her fiercely. When she let go, her mother’s lashes were damp.
With a small smile and a hand on her cheek, Angela rushed out.
Jasmine turned to the mirror, adjusting her hair.
She’d worn it down, one side pinned back with a sparkling crystal grip: a gift from Emilio.
Everything she was wearing had been a gift from Emilio, in his usual heavy-handed way.
Diamond earrings. Designer heels. A new dress.
Even though she hadn’t got married in the dress she’d picked before, Jasmine had impulsively decided she wanted something different, untainted by the idea of Richard.
And she’d been prepared to get it herself; Emilio hadn’t even wanted a wedding, after all.
But he wouldn’t hear of it. He’d arranged for Jasmine to be taken to a renowned designer after hours without him, and had arranged payment for whatever Jasmine wanted, insisting she indulge.
So she had, even though she wanted nothing from him, even though she’d reminded him of their rules.
He had simply stated that she’d made no rule against a wedding gift.
So she’d grudgingly accepted and picked the dress purely by gut feeling.
Now she was glad this dress was different from her first one.
And how different it was! The dress Jasmine had meticulously picked for her first wedding was long-sleeved, whereas this had no sleeves at all.
The old one was thick and heavy; this was made of the finest tulle and lace.
And, when she moved, the light caught all the floral, hand-made lace that covered the skirt.
This dress, with its corset-style top, mermaid silhouette and short train, fitted her statuesque body in a way the old one never had. This one felt good. It felt right.
Jasmine didn’t want to think too much about that. How could an impulsive reaction to a momentary lapse in judgement feel so much better than a carefully controlled plan?
‘That’s it! No more thinking,’ she told her reflection. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
She went up to the terrace that had been made over in the few hours since she had seen it last. A long white runner had been laid over the path, and her mother met her at the head of it.
‘Ready?’ Angela asked.
‘Yes.’ Jasmine linked her arm with her mother’s and down the aisle they walked, under newly erected white arches covered with flowers and vines.
Down she glided, towards the greenhouse, where Emilio stood with the celebrant.
Rachel must have been there too somewhere, to act as their second witness.
But Jasmine couldn’t tear her eyes away from her groom.
Emilio, standing there in a light tan suit, a gold pin twinkling in the centre of his tie.
A pink flower in the lapel of his jacket.
He looked incredible, but it wasn’t the fancy three-piece suit or the spectacular garden that carried her towards him.
It was the look in his eye: ravening, predatory, just like when she had first met him.
A look that said he wanted her. A look that had her questioning her sanity.
Was she right to deny their chemistry? It was potent, what they had. It took away sense and left only hunger in its wake. And, she wondered, would she always have to battle this attraction? Would she be able to?
***
Emilio could scarcely breathe. His fingers twitched by his side, aching to feel those curls—worn down, just like on that fateful night they’d met.
That dress…white and pure, but eliciting filthy thoughts.
Thoughts that were only fuelled further by the fact that he already knew how she tasted.
He knew, and he craved it, but had agreed to her rules. To deny them both.
But, when he looked into her green and gold eyes, so magically illuminated in the sunlight, he could tell she felt this need too.
Then she was in front of him.
Angela placed Jasmine’s hand in his with a knowing smile, and that feeling every time he touched her was back. Flame licked up his skin, consuming him with her very presence. He wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t. He wanted to touch every inch of her skin, but he couldn’t do that either.
‘Belleza,’ he said instead, and she smiled at him. A smile that gripped his heart.
‘Shall we begin?’ the celebrant asked.
Emilio nodded without looking at him. Without looking at anyone but Jasmine.
He had hoped that the two weeks they’d spent together would ease the effect she had on him.
That he would develop some kind of immunity.
But the opposite had happened. He was aware of her all the time, and when she left a room her perfume lingered to drive him insane instead.
So here he was, marrying the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered, barely able to keep his libido in check.
‘Marriage requires selflessness,’ the celebrant began. ‘The promise to trust and support one another. The promise to future children of raising, educating and supporting them in all aspects of life.’
That was exactly why Emilio was marrying Jasmine.
He wondered then if his father had ever made such a promise to his mother and, if he had, why he had only kept it for his eldest son.
Had Emilio not been worth his father’s time, his promises, from the moment of his birth?
Or had he decided to cast Emilio aside even before then?
Unaware of the thoughts in Emilio’s head, the celebrant went on.
‘Now, I shall ask of the both of you: do you, Emilio Luciano De Luca, take Jasmine Sophia Hall to be your wife and partner, forsaking all others?’
‘I do.’ Emilio slid a platinum wedding band onto Jasmine’s slender finger, seating it firmly against the ring he had given her only two weeks ago.
‘And do you, Jasmine Sophia Hall, take Emilio Luciano De Luca to be your husband and partner, forsaking all others?’
‘I do.’
He watched her place the ring on his finger.
His days of medicating with partying and one-night stands were over.
This ring was a reminder to be what his family needed, what his child needed.
Everything his father wasn’t. But it was also a symbol of irony.
Marriage and love weren’t for him. Once upon a time, when he’d briefly thought maybe it would be possible with Gia, Emilio hadn’t considered a marriage to be anything like this, with ground rules and deliberate separation.
That wasn’t what he’d wanted, yet look at him now.
‘I hereby pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.’
Emilio hadn’t kissed Jasmine since that morning they’d run into Richard and Zara.
He’d scrupulously adhered to their agreement to avoid physicality.
But this kiss…there was no escaping it. There was no denying how much he wanted it.
So he placed her hands on his chest, cradled her face and brushed his lips against hers in a desperate bid to make this last. This feeling of utter intoxication.
He did it again and then took her lip between his, trying so hard not to lose control.
Not to turn this into something hard and bruising like the passion inside him begged.
But, when Jasmine’s tongue met his, any control he had disappeared. She angled her head, allowing him to kiss her deeper. His heart was pounding against his rib cage. He could feel her rapid pulse in her neck. They were lost, lost to each other.
The only thing that brought them back was Angela clearing her throat with amusement.
Emilio looked at his wife. Her pupils were blown wide. A flush coloured her cheeks. The air around them was thick with want. Keeping his distance from her was going to be far harder than he could ever have anticipated.