Out of Hours...Boardroom Seductions: One-Night Mistress...Convenient Wife / Innocent in the Italian's Possession / Hot Boss, Wicked Nights. Anne Oliver
agreed. “Now it is you.”
“Not really. I—”
But Lucia cut her off gently but firmly. “And that is how it should be.” She reached out and patted Natalie’s hand.
“He is still too solemn sometimes,” his grandmother said. “Still very, what do you say? Self-contained? He is hard to know, sim?” She slanted a glance at Natalie who nodded. Lucia smiled. “So I think you have great powers to get inside his walls.”
Natalie swallowed the lump in her throat. “I love him.”
Lucia tilted her head. Her gaze rested on Natalie a long moment—so long that Natalie knew how a bug under a microscope felt. But she didn’t flinch away. It was only the truth.
Whatever Lucia saw, at last she, too, nodded. “Sim,” she said gently and reached out to take Natalie’s fingers between hers. “I believe you do.”
Her smile changed then. It had always been a polite smile, a welcoming smile. But now it reached her eyes. And in them Natalie saw a love that embraced not only Christo, but her as well as she leaned across and touched soft lips to Natalie’s cheek.
“You don’t know how happy you have made me.” Her voice was husky with emotion. “I was so afraid Christo would never find a woman who would capture his heart.”
What was Natalie supposed to say to that? I haven’t? I love him but he’s only hired me to be his fiancée for the week?
Of course, she couldn’t say that—or anything remotely like it. She could only squeeze his grandmother’s fingers lightly and smile.
“It is time he let down his defenses.” Lucia went on approvingly. “He is very well-defended, you know.”
“I know.”
“He must trust you very much.”
“I hope so.” Maybe he didn’t love her, but she thought he did trust her. He wouldn’t have brought her if he hadn’t. She glanced over at him and found that he was looking at her as well.
After one more kick, he left his father dribbling the ball and jogged over to them, his gaze moving from Natalie’s face to her fingers clasped with his grandmother’s. He raised his brows.
“Telling secrets?” he said to his grandmother with a smile.
“Of course.” She laughed lightly and patted Natalie’s hand. Then she shook her head. “I am simply telling your Natalie how happy I am that you have found the woman of your heart.”
Something unreadable flickered in his gaze for a brief instant. But then he smiled. “Of course I have,” he said smoothly, and bent to drop a light kiss on Natalie’s lips.
It was an act. Natalie knew that. Of course it was no hardship to kiss her, but he didn’t mean anything by it. But even so, after he went back to the soccer ball and his father, she couldn’t help touching her lips and holding the memory in her heart.
“Where did you meet my Christo?” Lucia asked her.
“When I was interning at the firm he worked for.” She told the truth as far as she could—about how she’d met him that first time, and how she’d fallen for him—on looks alone—without really even knowing him. But then she said she’d got to know him better, but she’d only come to appreciate what a good man he was later that summer.
She didn’t say how she’d figured that out. Telling Lucia that she’d gone to Christo’s bed and he’d turned her down was a bit more truth than she could bring herself to share.
Then she told Lucia about the time she’d spent at her mother’s where she’d met him again. She told her about his kindness to Jamii, about his getting Jamii to go in the water by telling her about when he’d been able to get over his fear of heights after falling.
“Because you helped him,” she told Lucia.
His grandmother laughed. “I was terrified. I hate heights. But for Christo—well, sometimes you have to do things that you’re afraid of, don’t you? I love him. You know how that is. You are Christo’s lady.”
Natalie knew how it was, oh yes. Just as she knew that she was not really Christo’s lady.
The wedding took place just before sunset in the garden between Xanti’s house and Lucia’s. Natalie sat next to Christo’s grandmother, her fingers firmly entwined in the older woman’s as Xanti, looking surprisingly pale and nervous, and Christo, his best man, looking more serious and remote than ever, stood waiting for the bride and her attendants to walk down the path to join them.
It was a tableau to memorize and keep in her heart—father and son together, so alike in their dark suits, crisp white shirts and neat bow ties. Yet, after a moment, Natalie had eyes only for one. She could have sat there and simply drunk in the sight of Christo forever.
He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Taller and broader-shouldered than his father. Less fidgety, too. Xanti kept running his finger inside the collar of his starched shirt. Christo didn’t move a muscle, not even when the quintet began to play and the guests turned to watch the first of the bridesmaids come down the path.
Then, because everyone else did, Natalie turned to watch the procession as well. There were three bridesmaids, followed by a resplendent Katia, who was a beautiful bride.
In a short, simple, understated dress of ivory silk, she looked regal and serene and steady as she approached Xanti. He still had the look of a rabbit caught in headlights. But when at last Katia reached him and put her hand in his, he swallowed hard, his color seemed to return. And in his eyes when he looked at his bride, Natalie could see that despite his nerves, despite his mercurial personality, despite everything—Xanti was exactly where he wanted to be.
As they stood together and the ceremony began, Natalie found that she didn’t need to speak Portuguese to understand. While Katia’s gentle voice and Xanti’s gruffer one might repeat words she didn’t recognize, the sentiments expressed and the vows taken were crystal-clear.
The familiar form and expectations provided a sort of anchor for her to hang on to in the dangerous sea of her current emotions.
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