by Jane Porter
Charlotte’s heart fell, and her insides went icy cold. She clasped her hands together, feeling chilled to the bone. “When was this?”
“A couple of years ago,” Elena answered. “I don’t even know what’s happened to her—”
“I thought the flowers were gorgeous last night,” Livia said, cutting Elena off. “They were roses and peonies, weren’t they?”
Charlotte nodded vaguely, unable to focus on the question. Brando had been through all of this before? He’d nearly married another woman because he thought she was pregnant, and apparently, all his family had known.
And here he was, years later, going through it all again. No wonder he was good at planning weddings. The whole celebration last night had been a show...a sham...
My God, what had his whole family been thinking last night as they watched him marry her? Charlotte put a hand to her middle, suddenly feeling as though she might be sick. “I think I need to get some food,” she said unsteadily, rising. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see what I can find.”
She waited until late afternoon and everyone had gone before approaching Brando about what she’d learned from Elena and Livia. She found him in his ground-floor study so lined with antique volumes that it probably was a former library. He was at his desk, reading through a document, looking relaxed and bronzed as if he’d spent his afternoon swimming.
He looked up with a smile as she entered the room with its golden paneling and rich wood accents. “How was your rest?”
“Boring.” She took a seat across from his desk. “Not very restful.” She hesitated, trying to figure out how to broach the subject that had troubled her all day. The more she’d thought about it, the more upset she became. “I heard a story today,” she said carefully. “Elena told me. But Livia was there and verified it. Apparently they nearly got a different sister-in-law a couple of years ago. Elena says they didn’t like her much. Thankfully she likes me more.” Charlotte stared at a button on Brando’s shirt, unable to meet his eyes. “It was a bit embarrassing to realize you’ve been through all this before—”
“I haven’t.”
“Apparently, you have. You get a woman pregnant, and you marry her.”
“I’ve never been married before. There have been no weddings, no engagements, no babies. You’re the first.”
“But this other woman... You would have married her if it had been your baby?”
“Yes.”
Her heart did that awful freefall again, plummeting all the way to her feet. Charlotte wasn’t special. He had no real feelings for her. Brando was just going through the motions.
“But Charlotte, it wasn’t mine. We didn’t marry. None of this is relevant,” he said, leaning forward in his seat. “You can’t let Elena upset you over something so trivial—”
“Trivial?” Charlotte interrupted. “Marriage changes everything, and marrying you has turned my life inside out. Having a baby would have been a significant change, but this...becoming your wife...moving to Tuscany... I’ve given up everything I am, and everything I’ve known, for you—”
“Not for me, for our child, for our family.”
“No, Brando,” she corrected, getting to her feet, hands clasped tightly together. “I agreed to marriage because I would be marrying you. Just for clarification, I wouldn’t have married anyone else. I married you because it’s you.”
She left his study then, and headed outside to walk the rose garden, and then circle the castello grounds, ending up near the fountain in the historic walled garden.
Brando found her in the walled garden, pacing around the gravel like a caged animal. “The walking doesn’t seem to be calming you.”
She shot him a look of reproach. “I’m not calm, no.”
“You’re getting yourself agitated over nothing. Charlotte, there was no one else—”
“Oh, Brando, please. Don’t say that. Let’s not pretend there has never been anyone before me. Your bed is never empty. You never lack for female company.”
“When I’m in a serious, monogamous relationship, it’s serious and monogamous.”
“Define ‘serious relationship,’” she said, hands on her hips as she faced him.
“Affection, attachment, respect, monogamous.”
“Is that what we have?”
“You’re my wife. My family.”
His words were beginning to make her feel a little mad. “Yes, but you feel affection, attachment, respect for me?”
“Yes.”
“We’re to be faithful to each other?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“And this is what you offer your significant others? This is the most you offer? Affection, attachment, respect?”
His jaw set, his eyes narrowed. “Last night you were content with me, and hopeful about the future. Today, you throw it all back in my face? Because Elena thoughtlessly mentioned someone from my past?”
Furious tears burned the back of her eyes. “I’m not a replacement bride—”
“No, you’re not. But I don’t know what you want from me, Charlotte. I don’t even know how to talk to you right now. We had a beautiful wedding last night. We had our friends and family here. You thanked me last night for making it a special day, but suddenly, based on something Elena said, it’s not enough?”
She didn’t know how to explain, but she felt as if there was an injustice here. In marrying him, she’d lost everything she’d known—her home, her name, her identity, her independence. And he’d lost nothing other than his ability to sleep with whomever he wanted. Because he hadn’t really given up anything. He didn’t have to change, or even feel too much, because he didn’t feel too much.
“This was a mistake,” she said hoarsely, mouth dry, stomach in knots. “I didn’t marry out of duty. It’s not why I agreed to this.”
“We’re doing this for our son,” he answered.
“This marriage will make us miserable. I refuse to raise a baby in a home where we’re miserable.”
“I’m not miserable.”
“Because you don’t love. You lust—”
“Charlotte.”
“Where are your emotions? And what do you really feel for me? Affection...desire?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not enough.”
“Our attachment will grow.”
She was already attached, though. She already cared. What was she supposed to do, wait for him to catch up? Hope he might one day have more feelings for her?
“I don’t want this marriage,” she said lowly. “I don’t want to be part of any of this. You’re not who I thought you were. We don’t have what I thought we have.”
He closed the distance between them, hands settling on her upper arms. “You’re working yourself up over nothing. Adele meant nothing to me. I swear—”
“Isn’t that the whole issue?” she cried, looking up into his face. “You don’t care about any of them you’ve been with. You love sex, the act of sex, but you don’t love the women you’re with, and you will never love me.” She tried to pull away but he didn’t release her. Charlotte pushed his chest, and still he held her. “See, it’s already a trap. I’m trapped. I knew this would happen. It’s what marriage does... It changes people...changes the power balance between two people.”
He gave her a gentle shake. “Nothing has changed, Charlotte.”
Her chest burned and her heart was beating so fast she couldn’t catch her breath. Her emotions were chaotic, her control splintering. Where was the Charlotte who was so capable of dealing with crises that she could virtually do it in her sleep? She needed that Charlotte to show up, right now. “I shouldn’t have agreed to marry you. I shouldn’t have let you convince me it was the right thing to do. It’s not, and I can’t pretend like you, can’t fake happiness.” She struggled to pluck his fingers from her arm. “
I can’t live with you. I won’t live with you—”
“The baby—”
“The baby will be fine. I promise you I’ll make sure of that.” She reached up and pressed a hand to her eyes to hold back the tears. She wouldn’t cry now. She had to keep it together. “I’d like to return to Florence. I’ll get a small apartment for the rest of the summer—”
“That’s absurd.”
“I’ll be close to the hospital should anything happen,” she added, continuing as if he hadn’t interrupted. “I promise to keep you informed. I won’t take any risks. You won’t have to worry about me.”
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“That’s the problem, Brando. You don’t understand this, because you don’t understand me. I didn’t marry you to give the baby your name. I didn’t marry you to do the right thing. I married you because—” She broke off, tears filling her eyes. “I married you because I wanted to be with you.”
“And that’s changed?”
She couldn’t hold the tears back. “Yes.”
“Why? Because you’ve heard some story about Adele and her pregnancy that had nothing to do with me?”
“You were prepared to marry her. You would have married her—”
“It wasn’t my child. I didn’t get her pregnant.”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re all interchangeable in your eyes. You love making love, but you don’t really love, and then when you’re faced with the consequences, you think you’re doing the right thing, but marriage isn’t the answer, not when there’s no love.”
“It’s a little late for regrets, though. We’ve said our vows, we’ve made a commitment. There’s no backing out of it now.” He released her then and she took a step back, and then another, her chin high, spine straight.
For a long moment she just held his gaze, expression defiant, before regally turning around and walking away from him, aware that his gaze followed her every step of the way.
Brando watched Charlotte return to the castello, gut on fire, head throbbing. What the hell had just happened?
How had everything gone sideways?
She’d been happy last night, radiant in her bridal gown, and breathtaking in her shimmering satin nightgown. He’d slept with one arm around her last night, savoring her warmth, her softness, feeling overwhelmed with his desire to protect her. And then the baby kicked, right against his hand where it rested on her belly, and he’d known then that he would sacrifice everything for them, his wife and son. They would want for nothing. They would always have him, a devoted husband and father.
All day he’d felt renewed. Purposeful. There was a reason now for him to work harder, to push to be more successful. Everything he did would be for them... And yet Charlotte now wanted none of it.
And nothing from him.
He was baffled, but also angry. Angry that she didn’t trust him. Angry that she would judge and condemn him. Angry that she’d be so selfish that she’d put her needs before their son’s needs...before the needs of the family.
Apparently, he didn’t know her.
Apparently, she wasn’t who he’d thought she was, either.
There was no honeymoon, and they spent the next week living like strangers in the castello. Charlotte moved out of the master bedroom and back into hers. He never once commented on her decision.
After she returned to her own room, they still had dinner together twice, but each evening they barely spoke, the atmosphere tense, so severely strained that Charlotte couldn’t manage a bite. After the second miserable dinner, she told him she couldn’t eat with him anymore, it was too upsetting, and it was true. After that last dinner, she threw up after crying so hard. This wasn’t the life she wanted. This wasn’t the marriage she’d agreed to.
Days passed and the first week of July had come and gone, the summer heat making the air hot, and heavy. The heat gave Charlotte a headache and she stayed in her room, in the dark, heavy coral silk curtains drawn to keep her room cool and dim.
She felt listless and lost, confused as to why she was here in this place, living this way. Brando didn’t seem to care that he never saw her anymore, either, and he came to her room only after hearing she hadn’t gotten out of bed again one day.
He didn’t bother knocking. He opened her bedroom door, stood on the threshold, gaze sweeping the room, before crossing the floor and drawing back the heavy silk drapes, allowing sunlight to pierce the darkness. “Are you having contractions? Is there pain?” he asked brusquely.
“No,” she whispered.
“Then what are you doing still in bed?”
“I’m on bed rest, Brando.”
“The midwife said you should get up and walk a little. She said you need fresh air.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” He crossed to the side of the bed, narrowed gaze raking her, the curl of his upper lip revealing disdain.
“I want you to get up.”
“Why?” she asked, rolling onto her back to look up at him.
“Because this isn’t good for you, or the baby.”
She hated his tone, hated his arrogance, hated his superiority. She pushed herself up, the covers heavy on her legs. “Do you only care about the baby?”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s absurd, and you know it. I care about you. I’m concerned about you. You can’t keep this up. It’s not healthy, and it’s not good for any of us—”
“You don’t seem overly troubled by it. You’ve gone about your life this past week without any trouble.”
“I was giving you space.”
“Thank you for the profound emptiness.”
“I was respecting your wishes.”
“You don’t know me at all, do you?”
“I don’t play games. I didn’t think you played them, either.”
“You’re above all of this, aren’t you? How nice not to have emotions—”
“Charlotte, I’m genuinely worried about you. You’re clearly having a breakdown of some sort.”
She stared at him in wonderment. “What is your solution to the problem, then, Brando?”
“Get some sun, go for a swim, take short walks, read something interesting, take the focus off you.” His broad shoulders shifted carelessly. “You’re not the only one whose life has changed. We both have adjustments to make.”
“And yet this is your house, and your country. You are surrounded by your family and your employees, and your friends. The only thing you have lost is your ability to bed new women.” Her lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. The pain inside her was blistering and raw. “Is that your hardship, Brando?”
Brando couldn’t remember the last time he was this angry. He felt as if he’d married a stranger. Who was this woman in his house? What had happened to the Charlotte he knew? Where was the woman he’d been so enamored with? “Do I need to call the doctor?” he asked, struggling to contain his temper. “Should I make an appointment for tomorrow?”
She averted her face. Her lower lip quivered. “I’m not sick.”
“Something is clearly wrong, though. You’re not yourself. If you don’t try to pull yourself together, then I’ll find help.”
“You don’t need to find ‘help,’” she said, still not looking at him. “I’ll be fine once I’m away from here. I need a break. I need to go somewhere for a while. I’m suffocating here.”
“No, I’m not going to let you go ‘somewhere.’ You’re not running away. You’ve made a commitment. We both made a commitment, and we’re going to honor the commitment.”
Her head jerked around. Her gaze met his, eyes flashing fire. “You’re not my father. I don’t work for you. I don’t belong to you, which means you don’t get to tell me what to do, or how to behave.”
“You’re my wife. That gives me some authority—
”
“Authority?” she laughed. “Oh, that’s fascinating, but also wrong. You have no authority over me, and you trying to manage me will backfire. It’ll destroy everything I feel for you.”
“Obviously, you feel very little if you’re already determined to leave me.”
“Speaking of feeling very little, Brando, just because you throw huge sums of money around doesn’t mean you’re being kind or loving. It means you’re paying for things, but I don’t need your money, and I don’t need you to buy things for me, and you can’t buy me. Maybe everyone else is taken in by your extravagance and generosity but I know the truth. You dazzle with your gifts and your generosity, because it’s all you offer. Our elegant wedding...the dinner reception...even the fireworks... It was to make up for the fact that you don’t love me, and you will never love me. Instead I’m supposed to be satisfied—”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” His hands balled into fists. He was at the end of his tether.
“No? Then tell me about one woman from your past that you deeply loved. Tell me how it broke your heart when it ended, and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to continue without her.”
“This is ridiculous. You’re hysterical. It’s not good for you, and it’s not good for the baby. Clearly you need space, space I’m happy to give to you. I’ll be heading out to the vineyard near Greve and then having dinner with my winemakers. I’ll have my phone with me. Call if there’s an emergency. Otherwise I’ll check in on you after I’m back.”
Hands bunched in the covers, heart thudding hard, Charlotte watched him leave her room, and listened to him close her door, firmly.
Part of her wanted to fling pillows at the door. Part of her wanted to hurl insults at him, because who was he to tell her anything? Who was he to lecture her on behavior? He was the one who’d slept with legions of women, never truly caring for any of them. But on the other hand, she’d known who he was when they went to bed together. She knew he was a powerful, sexual man who had no intentions of settling down.