Married By Mistake (Billionaires of Europe Book 7)

by Holly Rayner

  The elevator deposits us in the center of a large, circular room, where we are met by a hostess in a chic gray suit. She picks up two menus and leads us past a golden railing to the outer perimeter of the room with a caution that we should be careful when stepping down from the center tier.

  It only takes me a moment to understand the reason for the warning. The outer ring of the restaurant is rotating slowly. The movement is gradual enough that it’s not difficult to walk, but transitioning from the stationary center of the room to the moving edge is a challenge. I cling to Luciano’s arm, maybe slightly more than is necessary, to keep myself stable.

  Our table is at the very edge of the room, beside the window, and we are treated to a panoramic view of Lisbon.

  “The restaurant completes a full revolution every hour,” Luciano explains, “so by the time we’re done with dinner, we’ll have seen the whole city. Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” I say excitedly.

  It’s hard to restrain myself from pressing my nose up to the glass like a kid and staring out the window the whole time. I busy myself with my menu, instead. This is primarily a seafood place, and I peruse the list of fish, not wanting to choose an expensive dish. Luciano is paying, after all, and it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of that. He’s done so much for me already.

  He seems to anticipate my train of thought.

  “Let’s get the lobster,” he says. “Do you like lobster?”

  “I love it,” I admit. “But that’s pretty pricey. Are you sure?”

  “My wife deserves the best,” he says, giving me a little smile to make sure I know this is a joke.

  I nod and put my menu down, turning to look out the window. For some reason, I feel like I’m going to cry. I don’t want Luciano to read any emotion on my face, though. After all, what have I got to cry about? I’m on the vacation of a lifetime, about to dine on lobster at a beautiful rotating restaurant in a new, stunning city. Who could complain about this?

  But Luciano appears to notice something is up.

  “Are you okay, Dani? You’re being very quiet, all of a sudden.”

  I shake my head. I’m afraid that if I try to talk, it will shake loose the tears that are threatening. I can’t spoil tonight by crying. The whole day has been so wonderful.

  “I’m fine,” I manage. “Just looking at the view.”

  Luciano’s hand finds mine. “I know you,” he says. “Not well, but I know you better than that. You’re upset. I can see it on your face. Did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” I say. “You’ve been wonderful, Luciano, truly. Everything you’ve done to get us here, and showing me the city. The restaurant. Letting me stay with you in your villa. You’ve been so gracious. So welcoming.”

  “Of course,” Luciano says, sounding slightly confused. “You’re my guest, Dani. This is my country. I want to make you feel at home while you’re here. But I don’t understand why you’re upset. It’s not the food, is it? Would you like to go somewhere else? There’s a steakhouse I know of, if seafood isn’t your preference. Or…would you like something less fancy? I know some great fast food places, too, if you’d like that.”

  “No, no,” I say, laughing a little. “The place is fine. It’s more than fine. It’s really wonderful.”

  I pause. How can I tell him what’s really bothering me? I’ve never known a man like Luciano. I’ve never met someone with whom I can laugh the way I can with him. I’ve never been on a date where the guy was so honestly concerned with showing me a good time. And with Luciano, I know he’s not even trying to get me into bed. This is just organically how he is—kind, thoughtful, generous, and fun to be around. He’s exactly what I would have described if I’d been looking for a man to date, and he’s handsome to boot. And tomorrow, we’re going to dissolve our marriage.

  I want to keep seeing him. I don’t want this to be the last night we spend together. I want us to have a more conventional relationship than the madcap adventures we’ve had together so far, because I think there might really be something here. I think there’s a chemistry between us. I want to explore it further. But after tomorrow, there will be no convenient thread tying us together, forcing us to see each other.

  We’re going to have to make the arrangements on our own.

  If I suggest that, is he going to laugh me out of the room? What if he hasn’t even thought about seeing me again back in the States? What if he doesn’t think of me that way at all?

  I can’t. How could I stand to finish dinner sitting across from him, seeing what I’m sure would be pity in his eyes? It would be torture. And then to have to go back and spend the night at his house…no. I can’t ask him. The potential for embarrassment is much too high.

  But he’s still looking at me, still waiting for an answer, so I decide on a half-truth.

  “I’m thinking about what my friend Liz said to me before I left,” I say. “You remember, she’s the one who thought I should hold out for a divorce rather than seek an annulment.”

  Luciano casts his eyes downward. “Is that something you’re now considering?” he asks carefully.

  “God, no,” I say quickly. “How terrible would that be? After you flew me out here to get the annulment and everything? With everything that you’ve done for me, to choose now, on the eleventh hour, to tell you that I wasn’t going to go through with it?” I’m mildly horrified at the suggestion. Is that really what he thinks of me? I could never be so selfish.

  “I just wanted to make sure you knew that you had the option,” Luciano clarifies. “The fact that we’ve come to Portugal together doesn’t obligate you to go through with the annulment. Don’t get me wrong, I’d certainly prefer it to divorce proceedings. But I don’t want you feeling like you don’t have a choice, Dani. You have choices up until the moment we sign that document, okay? I’m not going to strong-arm you about this.”

  God, why does he have to be so wonderful when I’m sitting here trying not to be distracted by thoughts of how this might be the last time I ever see him?

  “Liz picked up pretty quickly on the fact that you have money,” I tell him. “But Liz is like that. She’s very analytical. Practical. She doesn’t have much of a soft side. For my part, I’m not interested in taking your money. I make a good living, and okay, maybe I don’t know when I’ll be able to put in that second pit I’ve been wanting for the last ten years, but I’m keeping food on the table and the electricity on. My bills are paid. I’m certainly not about to take advantage of our situation to try and profit.”

  Luciano nods slowly. “I think that’s very classy of you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn’t respect your abilities as a mechanic. I never felt that way.”

  “I know you didn’t.” I sigh. “That was more about my own issues than anything you actually said. I’ve had people telling me I don’t know my way around a fan belt since I was sixteen years old.”

  “Did you know your way around a fan belt when you were sixteen?”

  “Sure. My dad taught me. You should hear the way he makes fun of some of those sexist jerks that come into the shop. One time, he brought me a soda and then asked me if I was sure I could open it, and said, ‘maybe you better leave the handling of delicate machinery like soda tabs to a man, honey.’”

  Luciano laughs. “He sounds funny.”

  “He is.”

  He sets down his wine glass. “Dani, you know I was married once before, don’t you?”

  “You mentioned it.” I was surprised to hear him bring it up in the original annulment proceedings, and I had even worried that it would prevent us from getting our marriage annulled—what if the clerk thought Luciano was some kind of serial groom who married women all the time and couldn’t make any of them stick? I have to admit, I’ve had a lot of questions about his first marriage, but it always seemed inappropriate to ask, so I kept them to myself. But now, it looks like I’m going to have my curiosity satisfied.

  “My ex-wife, Ilsa, wa
s a gorgeous woman,” he says, a faraway look coming over him. “She was always so exciting to be around when we were young. She loved going out dancing, loved to be out on the town, meeting people, trying new things. The day we married, I was so happy. I thought our lives would be a great adventure.”

  “She sounds great,” I say, aware that my voice is sort of limp. Why is he telling me this? “So, what happened? It sounds like you two were really happy.”

  “She went for my money,” Luciano says, shaking his head. “After a few years, it became clear that she wasn’t happy, not really. She turned cold. The saddest thing is that I refused to see it. I didn’t recognize that our relationship was falling apart until the day she asked me for a divorce.”

  “That must have been awful,” I say, feeling deeply sympathetic. “Losing the woman you loved like that. Having her spring it on you.”

  “I couldn’t believe it,” he says. “I was sure I could fix things. I asked her to come to counseling, and she said no. I offered to move away with her, and she said no.”

  “Wow.”

  “It wasn’t until I sat down with my lawyer that I understood how serious she was. She was demanding a huge chunk of my assets. A massive cash settlement, the vacation home in St. Maarten, the boat…” He runs his finger around the rim of his wine glass, pondering. “It’s taken me years to wrap my mind around it, and I still don’t really understand. Ilsa was my best friend. How could she betray me so thoroughly?”

  “I’m really sorry,” I say quietly.

  “I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a choice,” Luciano says. “But hearing you say that you don’t want a divorce, that you don’t want to press your advantage for a financial settlement…it’s a breath of fresh air. And somehow, it makes it better that you’re aware of the option. I’m sure you could get plenty of money from me if you decided to take things in that direction.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  “I wouldn’t mind giving it to you,” he says. “But the fact that you care more for me as a person than for what you can get from me…that’s a big deal to me, Dani. Thank you.”

  The waiter delivers our lobsters. The meat is swimming in butter, and as the scent of it reaches my nose, my mouth begins to water.

  “This smells incredible,” I say.

  “The freshest lobster in the city,” Luciano says. “Go ahead, try it.”

  I do. It seems to melt apart in my mouth. “Amazing.”

  Luciano raises his glass. “To an amazing night.”

  “To an amazing trip,” I add.

  We’re quiet for a few minutes, enjoying our lobster. Then, I ask, “So, if your first marriage didn’t work out, and your second one was…well, this one…are you giving up? Are you moving on from the concept of love? Or do you still believe it’s out there for you?”

  He gazes at me for a minute, not speaking.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I know that’s a very personal question. You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. It’s just that I often think about the idea of love and how everyone seems to be looking for it. When I was on my bachelorette weekend with my friends, all they could talk about was how I was the only one there without a partner. And I wonder if maybe everyone else is more…enthralled with the concept than I am.”

  This is a flat lie. That’s not why I want to know how Luciano feels about love at all. The way I’m talking, I’m making it sound like a matter of scientific curiosity. The truth, though, is that I want to know if there’s a chance he’d be open to dating me in the future. His experience with his ex sounds pretty traumatic. Maybe he’s been soured on the whole concept of romance.

  “Can I be honest with you?” Luciano asks.

  “Please do,” I say.

  “I haven’t been interested in love or dating in a long time,” he says. “It’s not that I thought all women were like Ilsa, but after my divorce, I was afraid to take a chance and trust my heart to someone. It seemed safer to focus on my career and my friendships, and both were plenty fulfilling. But then…I met you.”

  My heart is going a mile a minute. “Me?”

  His hand closes around mine. “If there are women like you in the world, Dani Bell, then there is reason to believe in true love.”

  I can’t speak. We finish our meals quickly, the tension between us palpably sizzling. Luciano signals for the check, pays, and escorts me back to the elevator.

  As the doors close, isolating us from the restaurant, he steps close to me and whispers, “May I kiss you, Dani?”

  I can’t breathe. I nod.

  His lips meet mine just as the elevator starts to descend. My stomach swoops and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on as I fall. Every inch of my body is more alive than it has been in years, wanting, pressing up against him.

  We wrench ourselves apart when the elevator doors open and stagger out to the town car that Luciano has waiting for us. The moment we’re isolated in the backseat with the partition up, he’s on top of me, our kiss resuming and deepening. I lose all sense of myself as he covers my lips with his again. All my worries about tomorrow are driven out of my mind by the intensity of the passion between us.

  The tiny part of my brain that still has room for conscious thought is repeating I can’t believe this is happening. I hope this car ride lasts forever, because I never want to stop. I never want to be apart from him again. My God I’ve wanted this for so long…

  The car stops. It’s a moment before Luciano and I can bring ourselves to do the same—even as we’re whispering to each other we have to go inside, our bodies are still moving, still desperate for more. Finally, he pulls away and we straighten our clothing, the fire in his eyes promising a continuation as soon as possible.

  We don’t even make it to the bedroom. As soon as he’s closed the door behind us, he’s lifting me up, and as I bury my face in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent, I lose track of time.

  All I know is that this is the most wonderful, magical night of my life, and I never want it to end. I want to stay here in this charmed country, this place where fantasies become real, forever, with Luciano at my side.

  Chapter 23

  Dani

  I’m awake early, before Luciano. The sun is still pale on the floorboards, still low in the sky. Looking around me at the mess of clothes, I realize that we slept on the throw rug in the middle of Luciano’s living room. I haven’t slept on the floor since I was in high school. But then, everything about what happened last night is making me feel much younger.

  When was the last time I lost myself so completely in something like that? The truth is, I can’t remember.

  A silk bathrobe is hanging on the inside of Luciano’s bathroom door. I pull it down and tie it around myself. Then, I step into the bathroom and close the door softly behind me. I don’t want to wake him up. Not yet. I want a little time to myself first, to compose myself and to collect my thoughts, before I have to talk to him about last night and its ramifications.

  I look in the mirror. From my reflection, it’s pretty obvious what I was up to last night. My hair is a wreck, my makeup is smudged, and there are lines on my face from the pile of Luciano’s carpet. I can’t go to get the annulment looking like this; having to tell the story of how we got married is embarrassing enough.

  I pull out my hair band, shrug off the robe, and make my way over to Luciano’s shower. It’s a little complicated at first, but I get the hang of it pretty quickly and soon, the water is flowing hot and steady from the head. I step in and lean back, letting it cascade over my shoulders and relax my muscles.

  I would have expected to wake up feeling elated after last night, or at the very least, at peace. To my surprise, I have a leaden feeling in the pit of my stomach, as if something has gone horribly wrong. It’s as if Luciano and I have been building up to the events of last night, working toward them from the moment we met, and now, abruptly, it’s all over. It’s that day after Christmas, returning
home from vacation feeling, magnified by a thousand, and for a moment, I want to sit right down on the floor of the shower and cry. Could everything really be over between us? Was that just one hot night, destined not to be repeated? After all, we are getting our marriage annulled today, and we still haven’t talked about the future.

  I decide Luciano won’t mind me using some of his shampoo and lather up my hair. As I’m rinsing, I probe my own feelings. Is it possible I’m struggling with the fact that this wild adventure is coming to an end? I have to admit, it’s been interesting, being married to a stranger, going on this crazy journey with him. I’ve grown to enjoy the unpredictability and the fun of waiting to see what happens next. Today will be a firm bookend on this chapter in my life, and even if I do see Luciano after this, everything will be different.

  Could that be what I’m feeling so down about?

  I tip my head back into the spray, knowing as I do that I’m grasping at straws. Of course, this isn’t a case of me wanting to stay on the roller coaster that is a Vegas marriage. I haven’t enjoyed being married. Okay, yes, some positive things have come out of it. I got to spend more time with Luciano than I ever would have otherwise. This trip to Portugal has been an unexpected gift. And, of course, the events of last night…I’ve never had such a passionate, pleasurable night in my life. Our chemistry is perfect.

  God, I hope we get to do it again.

  I need to stop thinking. I get out of the shower and dry myself with a thick white towel. I don’t have any hair product here, so I have to settle for finger-combing and allowing it to air dry. Hopefully, I won’t look too ridiculous. I check the mirror again and am pleased to find myself looking youthful and awake rather than tired and grungy. At least I’ll be going in for this appointment looking decent.