Royal Holiday Bride. Brenda Harlen
anyone was to see her leaving his room—well, she didn’t even want to imagine what kind of scandal that would cause. Definitely enough of a scandal that Anthony Volpini would have to accept she would never be his virgin bride. That thought made her smile, and for a brief moment she actually considered stomping her feet as she made her way down the hall so that she would be discovered.
But aside from an arranged marriage to the Duke of Bellemoro, there was nothing Marissa dreaded more than the possibility of finding herself at the center of a media circus. So instead of stomping, she carried her sandals in her hand to ensure a quiet escape as she slipped away from Jupiter’s room.
Although she’d stayed longer than she’d intended, it was still early enough that Marissa didn’t expect to encounter any servants moving through the halls just yet. So she didn’t notice the shadow behind the curtains across the hall or hear the barely audible click of the shutter as her clandestine departure was captured by the camera’s lens.
She was gone when Dante awoke. The only proof he had that she’d even been there was a lingering trace of her scent on his pillow and a broken peacock feather that he picked up off of the carpet near the bed.
He sat on the edge of the mattress with the feather in his hand and thought about the woman he knew only as Juno. They’d shared intimacies but not names, and while he didn’t regret a minute of the time they’d spent together, he did regret that she’d disappeared from his bed and his life without even saying goodbye.
It wasn’t impossible to imagine that their paths might someday cross again, but the possibility did nothing to ease the unexpected emptiness inside of him. Because he knew that, in the unlikely event that they did meet again, he wouldn’t recognize her. If he really wanted to ascertain her identity, he could probably finagle a copy of the guest list from one of the palace staff. But then what?
Was he really prepared to track down every female guest until he found a green-eyed redhead with a sexy little mole on her right hip? Of course not, because even if he had the time or the energy for such an endeavor, the discovery of Juno’s true identity would change nothing. He’d known when he invited her back to his room that they could never be anything more than strangers in the night.
So why was he wishing for something different now? Why was he fantasizing about an impossible reunion with a woman he didn’t even know?
His future was already laid out for him and last night had been only a temporary and forbidden deviation from the path that had been set for him at birth. It was time to set himself back on that path and be the king his country needed.
It was time to meet his bride.
Chapter Three
Marissa slapped a hand on her alarm to silence the incessant buzzing. She wasn’t ready to get out of bed. Her reluctance had nothing to do with the fact that she’d crawled between the sheets less than four hours earlier and everything to do with the incredible sensual dreams from which she never wanted to awaken.
Dreams of a mouthwateringly sexy god with fathomless dark eyes behind a gold mask, a strong jaw with just a hint of shadow and a mouth that was both elegantly shaped and infinitely talented. She could almost taste his kiss, dark and potent and thoroughly intoxicating.
She snuggled deeper under the covers, certain she could feel the heat of his skin beneath her palms as she explored the planes and angles of all those glorious muscles. Broad shoulders, strong pecs, rippling abs and a very impressive—
She slapped at the alarm again.
Then, with a sigh that was equal parts resignation and regret, she hit the off button and eased herself into sitting position.
Pushing back the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. She winced a little as she made her way to the bathroom, feeling the tug of strained muscles in her thighs, the ache in her shoulders and an unfamiliar tenderness in her breasts.
Not a dream, after all, she realized, smiling as she turned on the shower and stripped away the silk boxers and cami that she slept in. Memories of the previous night played through her mind as she stepped beneath the spray.
A fantasy come true, but definitely not a dream.
As she’d donned her costume in preparation of the ball the previous evening, she’d worried that she might regret embarking on her course of action, but she’d been more worried about what her future might hold if she chose a course of inaction.
She’d taken control of her life and her future—as much as she could, anyway. Because according to the outdated but still valid laws of the principality, Marissa could be forced to marry the duke, but at least she wouldn’t go to his bed a virgin on her wedding night.
She’d evaluated her options and she’d made a choice, and she didn’t regret it now. How could she regret what had been the most incredible experience of her entire life?
If she felt any disappointment, it was only because she might never again know the kind of pleasure Jupiter had given to her. He’d been an incredibly attentive lover. He’d not just touched but tantalized every inch of her body with his hands and his lips and his tongue—
She turned her face into the spray and nudged the temperature dial downward to help cool her heated skin and resolved to stop fantasizing about what was past.
After she’d stepped out of the shower and toweled off, she opened her closet in search of an appropriate outfit for brunch with her mother. In the midst of various shades of ivory and cream and beige, the stunningly vibrant dress she’d worn the night before shone like a beacon. Instinctively her hand reached out, her fingers caressing the shimmery fabric, and she made a mental note to send a heartfelt thank-you card to her dressmaker.
Then she purposely moved Juno’s dress to the back of the closet because she was no longer a Roman goddess. She was just an ordinary princess again and she had to look the part for her meeting with the Princess Royal.
She selected a simple beige-and-white sheath-style dress, slipped her feet into a pair of matching kitten heels, then brushed her hair away from her face and secured it in a knot at the back of her head. She added simple gold hoop earrings and a couple of gold bangles on her wrist and decided the overall look was stylish if rather bland—and perfectly suited to Princess Marissa.
You’re even more beautiful than I anticipated.
The echo of Jupiter’s reverent whisper made her heart sigh. He’d made her feel beautiful. Desirable. Desired. But there was no hint of that woman in the reflection that looked back at her now.
She turned away from the mirror, refusing to admit that she longed to feel that way again. She knew that she could be beautiful. Elena had been—and still was—a stunning woman, and many people had remarked upon the similarities between mother and daughter. But while the Princess Royal always took care to highlight her best features, Marissa chose to downplay her own. Beautiful women did not go unnoticed, and she preferred the freedom to live her life as she chose rather than under a microscope.
Of course, she was a princess, so a certain amount of media attention was unavoidable. She even courted that attention when it served her purposes. But most of the time, she was happy to let the paparazzi chase after those who were much more bold and beautiful.
A knock at the door jolted her out of her reverie. She set down the cup of coffee she’d just poured and went to answer the summons.
There were few people who could gain access to the private elevator leading to her tenth-floor condo, so she wasn’t surprised to open the door and find both of her sisters-in-law on the other side. She was disappointed that they didn’t have her nieces with them, as she absolutely doted on Michael’s five-year-old Riley and Cameron’s eleven-month-old Jaedyn.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, because she knew they didn’t have any plans to get together this morning.
Michael’s wife, Hannah, was the first to respond. “We were worried about you.”