was finished.
Their ranches were only a few hours apart. It would be possible for them to continue seeing one another while carrying on separate lives. He could see to his business, and then when he had the chance he could come and visit her. They could sleep together. She could show him the house that she loved so much. Take him out back to the gardens, to the fountains, show him all the beautiful mosaics there. Take him on a ride through the trees, to the base of the mountains.
These were foolish fantasies, and she’d never in her life been prone to such things. But then she’d never wanted a man before. Had never been so...consumed—obsessed even—with another person. His body. His mind. His soul.
They had so much in common.
Well, except for the whole playboy international billionaire thing. But his soul. His soul matched hers in so many ways. Fiercely independent. Wanting to make his own way.
Except, much more than she, Matías was driven by demons from his past. She knew it, even if she couldn’t understand them all.
At night he slept fitfully. And she stayed by his side, her hand on his chest. Sometimes she stayed awake and simply watched him, as if somehow holding vigil beside him as he wrestled with his past pain even in his dreams, she could provide some kind of support.
He made her want.
It was an endless well of want, not one that simply began and ended in the bedroom, but one that seemed to go on and on. In the evenings, when she was sated in the physical sense, there was still something else that lingered. Something that gnawed at her, nagged at her. Something that tugged at her heart and made her physically ache.
She did her best to ignore it, because she felt that only insanity sat at the end of that path.
But now it was time for the wedding. And somehow, she had expected the sky to fall before then. But it had not. Instead, when she had woken early that morning, Matías was already gone. Probably off doing chores on the rancho, and there was nothing unusual about that, though often they woke together.
But then she set about to readying herself for the event. The wedding would take place in the late afternoon, followed by a dinner and dancing. Mostly, people from the village had been invited. Distant relatives. And of course, Matías’s grandfather would be making the trip, even though his health made it very difficult.
That made Camilla feel as though a weight was settled on her chest. Matías’s family was a source of such pain to him, she was angry that his grandfather was intruding on their day. Except, the day would not exist if not for his grandfather. Truly, he was the cause of it. It was more. He was the reason they were doing this.
And she knew that. Truly she did. But sometimes, that twinge around her heart made it difficult to fully internalize. To fully believe. Because it felt like more. Even though it shouldn’t, it did.
There were things about it that felt so very real. So real they hurt.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror, now more used to this glossier version of herself.
She was wearing a veil that reached the ground, blended together with the soft, gauzy fabric of her dress. Her lipstick was dark, drawing attention to her mouth, matching the dramatic winged eyeliner that the stylist had put together for her.
She felt beautiful. But it had nothing to do with the makeup. Nothing to do with the dress. And everything to do with the past week spent in Matías’s arms.
He never made her feel like he wished she were another woman.
She had worried for a time that he would prefer Liliana. Had worried that he was fantasizing about the petite blonde while they were in bed together. But it become clear quickly that he had a deep appreciation for her athletic body. And all the things she could do with it. She might be inexperienced, but she was physically able, and he took great advantage of that.
Much to both of their delight.
That made her smile. Smile as Maria, the housekeeper, handed her the simple, deep crimson bouquet. Continued smiling as she walked down the stairs of the house and into the foyer.
“Everything is set up outside,” the older woman said. “And they will be ready for you in a moment. I will signal you when it is time.”
She couldn’t believe the moment had arrived. And yet, it seemed like an entire lifetime in the making. As if all of this, her relationship with Matías, had been destined to be from the beginning.
This wasn’t real. It wasn’t. What was real had been that first time they had made love. That was Matías and Camilla.
This was for the audience. This was for his grandfather. And she had to remember that. Had to try to find the practical woman she was, buried underneath the makeup. Beneath the bridal gown that made all this feel like a beautiful waking dream when she knew full well it was a simple business transaction.
Maria rushed outside and Camilla took a deep breath, pressing her hands against her stomach.
“Well,” came a voice from behind her. “Don’t you make a radiant bride.”
She turned, and her heart hit her sternum hard. For the man standing in front of her was not Matías. He was tall, darkly handsome and resembled her fiancée just enough that she knew exactly who he was.
He possessed the same sort of magnetism, the same height and breadth. But there was something menacing about him. Something that went beyond dangerous. Something deadly.
“Diego, I presume,” she said.
“You make this sound very like an overdramatic soap opera,” he drawled, moving closer to her. “I must say, I am impressed with my brother’s resourcefulness. Often, his scruples prevent him from claiming certain victories. I myself have never understood why he’d limit himself the way he does.”
“I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about,” she said. “Matías is my lover. He has been. Liliana’s defection was only a good thing for us.”
She did not know where she was drawing the strength to come at him like this. Except, it was the story that she and Matías had agreed on, a distortion of the truth to show the world why he was choosing to marry her, and it was not his day to wed beautiful, pale Liliana.
Because if it was, her heart would have broken into a million pieces and shattered on the ground.
She would rather this—this temporary union that might turn to nothing in the end—than watch him marry another woman. A marriage he had meant to be forever, leaving no chance for them to have anything more later on.
“It is a very nice story,” Diego said. “But I already read it in the paper. You know, my brother fancies himself a good man, but he is not so different from me. He simply draws lines around moral dilemmas as he sees fit. And I have never seen the point of doing so. He decides that certain actions are right, and certain actions are wrong. He has decided that his motivation for inheriting the rancho is higher than mine, and therefore, he must win at this game. I require no motivation of myself beyond my need to win. To be satisfied. I don’t need to pretend I am being good.”
“Is that why you took Liliana?”
A
