Deceived

by Elisabeth Naughton

  Tears filled my eyes. Absurd, senseless tears all because of a stupid phone. Pushing to my toes, I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him close. “Thank you. It’s the best wedding present ever.”

  He huffed and slid his arms around my waist. “Your own phone? We both know that’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. Because it’s not about the phone. It’s about what it represents.”

  He drew back and looked down at me, his eyes serious and filled with a truth that cemented me in this time and place. In him. “I love you, angioletto. I was wrong to try to make you stay with me. If you ever want to leave—”

  “Never. I will never want to leave you.”

  “But if you do,” he insisted, “I won’t stop you. I won’t keep you trapped. You’re not my property. You’re not a kitten. We’re equals, Natalie. Always.”

  Love swelled inside me. I rose up on my toes again and kissed him. And when he pulled me close and opened, taking charge of the kiss, I let him. I let him have everything and lost myself in the beauty and perfection of us.

  When I was breathless, when I was ready to pull him toward the bed and show him just how serious I was about never leaving him, he eased back and quirked his lips in an adorable and mischievous way.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re a siren. And we don’t have time for what you’re thinking.”

  I shivered and bit my lip, loving that he knew exactly what I wanted. “Are you sure? I can be quick.”

  Laughing, he slid his fingers down my arms, then gripped my hand and pulled me after him. “I’m sure, vita mia. They’re waiting for us.”

  He tugged my bedroom door open before I could stop him, and when I stepped into the living room, I faltered.

  Over a dozen wedding gowns hung from racks that had been rolled in. And a handful of women—not just Bianca and the crew she’d brought with her, but Felicity and Luc’s sister as well—filled the room.

  My eyes grew misty, and still clutching the phone in one hand, I leaned into Luc and swallowed hard, completely awed by what he’d done.

  “Oh, I think that means she’s surprised,” Bianca said across the room with laugh.

  Luc grinned and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Hopefully happy.”

  I nodded emphatically against him, unable to find my voice just yet.

  Thankfully, Felicity rushed to my side and rescued me. Taking the phone from my hand, she tugged me away from Luc. “Okay, go. Your part here is done. Get out of this cottage so we can get busy.”

  Luc looked down at me. “Will you be okay?”

  I blinked back a wave of happy tears and nodded.

  “Six o’clock at the chapel. Fee will show you where it is. I’ll be the one in front with a goofy smile.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I laughed and kissed him again, belatedly realizing I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet. But he didn’t seem to care. He was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “I’ll be the one in—” I dropped to my heels and quickly looked toward Bianca. “Oh, wait. What color am I wearing?”

  Bianca’s stylish blonde bob swayed as she laughed. “Cara, every bride I dress has to wear white. It’s a rule.”

  I looked back at Luc, unable to believe this was actually happening. I was getting married. Today. To the man I was never walking away from again. “Okay, I guess I’ll be the one in white.”

  He smiled and leaned down to kiss me once more, but his sister Ariana wiggled her way between us and pushed both hands against his chest, forcing him back and away from me. “Uh-uh. Get out of here already. We’ve got work to do, mister, and so do you. Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day?”

  Luc flashed me a conspiratorial look, and I grinned, knowing exactly what he was thinking. After everything we’d already been through, we could handle any bad luck fate tried to hurl our way.

  “She’s right,” Fee said at my side. “Marco’s outside waiting for you. Try to keep my man in line, would you? He’s going to go apeshit over all this wedding stuff.”

  Luc smirked, then winked at me. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” Looking more relaxed than I’d seen him since Venice, he crossed to the front door, reached for his sunglasses from the table near in the entryway, then stopped.

  “I almost forgot.” He tugged his ring from his finger, then turned and pitched it to me from across the room. “Hold this for me, angioletto.”

  I caught his ring with both hands, and looked down at the black band edged in platinum, still warm from his finger.

  With a wink, he said, “I’ll get it back from you in a few hours.” To his sister, he said, “Get hers for me at some point, okay?”

  Ariana ushered him out the door. “Go already. Sheesh.”

  When he was finally gone, she turned back to me, her dark hair with that one white lock near the front swaying behind her. A wide smile spread across her face. “Okay, let’s try on some gowns.”

  I’d never been the kind of girl to go giddy over a dress, but I had to admit, this lit me up.

  “Champagne first,” Felicity called from the kitchen, returning with glasses and an already open bottle of bubbly. “Then mani-pedis, makeup, and hair. We’ve got a full day, ladies.” She filled a glass and handed the first to me with a grin. “Bet you had no idea this was what you were coming back to today.”

  I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as I sipped my drink. No, I’d had no idea. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

  The day was a blur.

  After being completely pampered by Bianca and the staff of five she’d brought with her—hair, nails, makeup, even a massage after my shower—I’d finally settled on a strapless silk gown with a taffeta underlayer that was fitted all the way to my feet, then flowed out behind me in a simple train. The style was elegant and clean and hugged every curve, which I knew Luc would like, but the best part was the pattern laser cut into the silk of the dress—circles and arcs and bends that resembled the pattern in a butterfly’s wings.

  The moment I’d seen it, I’d known it was my dress. And from the smile on Bianca’s face when she held it up for me, I was sure she’d brought it because she’d anticipated I’d know exactly what it represented. Not the mind-controlled beta slaves House Salvatici wanted their women to be, but the epitome of a strong, independent, resilient woman who’d been through a massive transformation.

  Me.

  I was a butterfly in every sense of the word.

  I don’t remember picking shoes or earrings or even the veil. I let Bianca and Felicity and Ariana do all that for me. I don’t even remember climbing in the golf cart and someone driving me across the property to the old stone chapel on the other side of the main house as the sun began to set. I do remember Bianca handing me a simple bouquet of white roses outside the chapel, its doors open, the interior illuminated by dozens of candles. And I remember her hugging me tight and telling me that Luc was a very lucky man because he’d found me. But she was wrong. I was the lucky one. Nothing in life was guaranteed, but I knew this love—our love—was built to last. It was the only thing I knew with absolute certainty.

  He was waiting for me at the end of the short aisle, just as he’d said he would be, with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his face. The chapel was tiny, only four or five rows of pews on each side and a small altar against the back wall, but it was decked out with dozens of flowers and candles, the flames flickering in his smiling eyes as I drew close. And when I reached him, he immediately pulled me close and pressed his lips against mine as if he hadn’t seen me in days.

  The priest cleared his throat. Laughter echoed behind us. A sheepish look crossed Luc’s handsome face as he glanced at the priest, said something in Italian I didn’t understand, then drew back. But he didn’t stop smiling. And when I handed Ariana my flowers, and Luc took my hands in his, I didn’t need to listen to what the priest said to the room or look to see who was around us. All I focused on was Luc. Here in this place with me. Per
fect. Mine. Forever and ever my one and only. Exactly the way it was supposed to be.

  His thumb brushed over the backs of my fingers as the priest spoke, and he looked down at me with a wiggle of his brows. Thinking he was up to something, I narrowed my eyes, then glanced down at our fingers only to suck in a surprised breath.

  He wasn’t wearing his ring. He’d given it to me this morning. But he’d swept out of the house so quickly, I hadn’t noticed his ring finger. Tattooed with the word “Slave” in black ink, exactly like mine. Faded, just enough to tell me it wasn’t fresh, but had been done at the same time as mine. And when I pushed his fingers apart, I saw the letters “NJ’s.”

  My heart swelled, and warm tears flooded my eyes—happy tears. Smiling, he lifted his tattooed hand and brushed a tear from the corner of my eye before it slid down my cheek, and all I could do was tip my face into his hand and savor him there, touching me like that, so gently and endearing, that one act making me fall even deeper in love with this amazing, incredible man.

  The rest of the ceremony rushed by—the vows, which I fumbled through in Italian with laughter and help from Luc, the exchanging of the rings, the lighting of the candles—but the kiss... That was the best part.

  Luc lifted both hands to my face, stepped close, and looked down at me in the candlelight. And when he whispered, “I love you,” I knew I was home. I was exactly where I was always meant to be.

  “I love you too,” I whispered back. “Sempre e per sempre.”

  His eyes shone with all the love I felt in my heart when he lowered his lips to mine. And as our mouths fused, I was confident we could weather any storm his House sent our way.

  This was real.

  This was meant to be.

  This was everything.

  And nothing could break us.

  When Felicity had told me earlier in the day that Marco and Luc were planning the wedding meal, I’d expected a barbecue on their patio with some music and wine. What awaited me was a feast spread out on the edge of the vineyard, under a thousand twinkle lights hanging from the trees, tables set with elaborate flowers and china and crystal, and a three-piece orchestra on the edge of a wooden dance floor.

  It was my dream wedding—everything I’d envisioned as a child. And even though there were only a handful of guests—Marco and Felicity, Bianca and her husband Nino, Ariana and the Salvatici family cook, Rosabel, whom I remembered meeting at Luc’s parents’ house and whom Luc greeted with more affection than his mother, along with several of Marco and Felicity’s staff—it was perfect. I couldn’t have planned anything better if I’d had a year to try.

  I stood under the twinkling lights on the edge of the dance floor hours later, laughing at Ariana trying to teach one of Marco’s drivers how to do the latest club dance move. Luc moved up behind me and slipped his thick arms around my waist, pulling me back into the hard, warm plane of his chest, instantly making me sigh and lean into him. Against my ear, he whispered, “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing but Dario falling on his butt. Poor guy is so embarrassed. I think he’s afraid of your sister.”

  Luc nipped at my ear, sending a shiver down my neck. “He should be. She’s a bossy little thing.”

  “I know. That’s why I like her.”

  We watched Ariana and Dario like that for several moments, then Luc pressed his face into my hair and whispered, “I’m sorry your mom couldn’t be here.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I know but—”

  I turned my head and kissed the tip of his nose. “When things are settled, I’ll take you to Montana to meet her. Knowing my mother, she’ll want to throw us another reception.”

  His arms tightened around me. “It’s a deal.”

  He held me close as we watched Ariana and Dario laughing under the lights. Dario wasn’t much older than Dante, and I knew from Luc’s silence at my back that he was thinking of his brother, just as I was.

  I squeezed his hand at my waist. “I wish Dante could’ve been here.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  The worry I heard in his voice made me turn. “If you need to go check on him—”

  “I don’t.”

  “Are you sure? Because you stepped away to look at your phone, and I assumed it was about Dante. If he needs yo—”

  “It wasn’t about Dante. But I did check on him again. And he’s fine.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I stepped away to text my father.”

  I definitely didn’t like the sound of that. “Is everything all right?”

  “He wanted to meet. I told him I was busy and that we could do it tomorrow.”

  “If you have to go now—”

  “I’m not leaving you on our wedding night.”

  “Luc, we’ve been married for weeks. I can handle—”

  He cupped my jaw and tipped my mouth up to his, cutting off my words with a swift press of his lips. “Maybe you can handle being away from me tonight, but I can’t handle being away from you. My father and his stupid summons can wait. Tonight is all about you and me, angioletto. I’m not going to let him tarnish this in any way.”

  My heart warmed. I absolutely didn’t want him to leave now or ever, but I was working on being the supportive wife he needed, not the combative one I’d been for too long.

  Wrapping my arms around his waist between his shirt and his jacket, I stepped into him until we were pressed together knee to chest and his heat and spicy scent cocooned me like a blanket. “Speaking of waiting...” I nipped at the hint of stubble on his jaw, then gently kissed him in the same spot. “I love this reception and all that, but...how much longer do I have to wait until I can have you all to myself?”

  A low growl echoed in his throat just before he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me hard. My skin tingled at his possessive show of affection, and between my legs, I grew hot and wet and achy all for him.

  “I’ve been itching all night for you to give me a sign you were ready to go,” he mumbled against my lips.

  I shifted my hips against his ever so slightly, shivering when I felt the line of his arousal thicken beneath his expensive slacks. “Baby, I’ve been ready for hours.”

  His growl deepened, and he kissed me again before quickly releasing me. Grasping me by the hand, he pulled me behind him, and one by one, we said goodbye and thank you to our guests. Minutes later, we were in the golf cart, the train of my dress wrapped around me like tissue paper, while Luc hit the gas and we cut across the lawn away from the lights and music near the main house.

  I laughed when we hit a bump that jostled us both on the bench seat, and reached up to steady myself with one hand on the roof of the cart. “Anxious, I see.”

  He turned the cart to the left, weaving around a cluster of oak trees. “You have no idea how much restraint I’ve exercised these last few weeks.”

  “Oh really?” I wrapped my arm around his and clung to him as the cart bounced over the uneven ground. “Tell me.”

  “Every time you walked into a room, it was all I could do not to grab you and fuck you blind.”

  “Mm.” I leaned into him and slipped one hand beneath his open jacket, then trailed my fingers down the hard plane of his chest, over the belt at his waistband, and skimmed his semihard erection between his legs. “It’s been a while since you fucked me blind. I like the sound of that.”

  “Cazzo.” He pushed harder on the gas to make the cart move faster and dropped one hand to my knee, tracing his fingers along the butterfly pattern on the inside of my thigh. “Keep talking like that and we won’t make it to the honeymoon suite.”

  I laughed as the headlights of the cart bounced over the dirt path, belatedly realizing it was taking us a lot longer than it should to get back to the cottage. “What honeymoon suite?”

  “This honeymoon suite.” He pulled off the path and slowed the cart as we moved under an archway made out of vines, then drove between two tall trees. Ahead, I spotted a glow through the forest, growing brighter.


  He stopped the cart near what looked like some kind of white tent, illuminated by lights from the other side of the walls, turned off the ignition, and climbed out. Coming around to my side, he took my hand and helped me down, then kissed me quickly, and stepped back, pulling me toward him with that mischievous smile I’d grown to love. “I have one more surprise for you, Mrs. Salvatici.”

  It was the first time he’d called me that since I’d awoken on his island. Then, it had ignited a firestorm of anger inside me. Now, it melted me like candle wax and made me ache to feel him everywhere. “What kind of surprise?”

  “The good kind. Come on.”

  He led me around the side of the tent, and when we rounded the corner and I spotted what he’d done, my mouth dropped open in absolute shock.

  “Like it?” he asked next to me.

  I lifted my hand to my mouth, completely awed. It was indeed a tent, but a huge tent, decked out with a wood floor, a king-sized bed and tufted red headboard, and mounds of pillows. Candles were lit everywhere—on tables on both sides of the bed, in clusters around the edge of the tent, down the steps leading to the small pathway—casting a warm, romantic glow over the entire space, and bouquets of fresh flowers filled the air with scents of lavender and citrus and roses. There was even a chandelier hanging from the peak of the tent’s ceiling above the bed, sending cascading twinkle light all over the white comforter and linens.

  “When did you do this?” I asked. “How did you have time?”

  “Marco and his staff helped me. I wanted to give you something special for our first night. Not the same place where we’ve argued and fought the last few days, and where I was sure you hated me.”

  Tears filled my eyes. Tears I couldn’t hold back. I turned to him, pressed my face against his chest, and drew in the familiar, calming scent of him that I could never get enough of. “I would have been perfectly happy in the place where we’ve argued and fought the last few days because it was where I realized you were still mine. I love that cottage. But I love this more,” I whispered, clutching him tightly. “And I love you most of all. So much more than I ever thought I could.”