Until the day she’d come home from school to find her nonna, Consolata, at the house, and her father dead of a massive heart attack. Mina had clung to her nonna, her eight-year-old face a river of tears as she’d begged her to take her to see her father, perhaps instinctively knowing her last grounding force had been taken away. But her nonna had refused all of Mina’s hysterical demands, telling her a hospital was no place for a child.
The dust had barely settled on her father’s grave when her mother had sold the family business and packed a grieving Mina off to boarding then finishing school. Ripped away from everything she knew, without the unconditional love of her father or Camilla, Mina had floundered, filled with confusion and guilt. What was it about her that caused her mother to reject her so completely? It had been her good schoolfriend Celia and her mother, Juliana, who had become a surrogate mother to Mina, who had saved her from the shadows of those miserable years.
Her mother had only recognized Mina’s importance when she’d come of age, an attractive bauble to dangle before Palermo’s most eligible bachelors to solve their financial problems. Then it had been a relentless pursuit to find her a rich husband to marry, not the bonding Mina had craved.
A lump formed in her throat. “Please don’t ask me to do this,” she begged her mother through frozen lips, repeating the appeal she’d already made twice today. “We can find someone else, Mamma.”
Her mother’s gaze hardened with impatience. “We’ve been through this, Mina. You had your chance to pick someone else. You chose no one. I chose Silvio. Stop being so childish and selfish. You are doing your duty to this family. Marry Silvio, sell the ring and all our problems will be solved.”
All her mother’s problems would be solved. Hers would just be beginning. She closed her eyes. This was not how it was supposed to go. Today was supposed to be sunshine and rainbows. Her father was supposed to be walking her down that aisle toward a man as besotted with her as her father had been with her mother.
After she’d made a life for herself. After she’d followed in her father’s brilliant business footsteps. She may not have Felicia Chocolate left—the family chocolatier her mother had sold—but her time spent in France studying and attaining top grades, learning of the vast and varied world out there, had taught her she could never limit herself to the traditional role of a woman in Sicily. She wanted more, so much more, for herself.
But all of that would be for naught if she married Silvio today. Her fingers curled around the arms of the chair, her knuckles gleaming white. She would spend her days pregnant with his bambinos, relegated to an artifact in his beautiful, cold, austere home.
The wedding planner’s assistant swept back into the room, Mina’s dress draped over her arm, having given mother and daughter a discreet few minutes to cover Silvio’s damage. “Are we ready for the dress?”
Her mother straightened and nodded. The wedding planner gave Mina a once-over. “Excellent. You look beautiful.”
Mina stood as the wedding planner moved to her side to help her on with the fairy-tale dress, one worthy of Silvio Marchetti’s wife. She lifted her arms as the assistant dropped the dress over her head and settled it down around her hips in a whisper of silk and lace. She obediently pulled in a breath as the dress was done up, hugging every curve of her body with its slim, tulip shape. Except she didn’t need to expend the effort as the dress did up easily. Too easily. She’d lost weight the last few weeks of fretting.
The wedding planner tutted about this latest wrinkle, producing pins to close the gap below the low, dipping back of the dress. Mina surveyed herself in the mirror, a tumult of emotion swirling through her. She looked impeccable. The dress was perfect, her hair an elegant chignon with tiny, white flowers woven through it, her face a subtle, painted masterpiece.
And it was all wrong. She could not do this. She could not.
Silver stilettos and the diamond choker and drop earrings Silvio had given her as a wedding gift completed her irreproachable appearance. And then it was time to go. She descended the wide circular staircase to the main level of the villa, the wedding planner managing her modest train behind her.
She had not even a bridesmaid to commiserate with. Celia was managing a big product launch in Paris and hadn’t been able to make it, which meant the bridesmaids were all Silvio’s—strangers to her.
She waited in the salon for the horse and carriage that would transport her to the church. Her mother and the planner would ride on ahead in the limousine Silvio had sent for them to ensure everything was ready for her arrival.
A cloud of perfume preceding her, her mother brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Brighten up, Mina. You will have everything after this.”
Except what she really wanted. Her freedom. A man who actually loved her.
The door closed behind her mother in a waft of jasmine and she was alone. Alone in the beautiful dress that flowed around her, the diamond choker growing tighter around her throat with every second that passed.
Her breathing grew shallow, her palms sweaty. She was out of time. Out of options.
* * *
The elegant old Mastrantino villa was located in the aristocratic neighborhood of Montepellegrino, with its sweeping views of Palermo, the surrounding mountains and the Tyrrhenian Sea.
As much as Nate appreciated the spectacular view, he was more interested in speaking with the Mastrantinos, acquiring Giovanni’s ring and wrapping up his business in Sicily so he could complete stops in Capri, Hong Kong and the Maldives before heading home to hand the ring over to his grandfather.
He had elected not to pursue the Giarruso at this point in time, as it wasn’t quite the unique opportunity he’d been searching for to enhance his portfolio—delectable smart chambermaids aside.
The handsome, elegantly stuccoed Mastrantino villa looked as quiet as it had the night before when he’d come seeking the ring only to find no one home. Hoping his luck was better today, Nate asked his driver to wait at the front entrance, strode up the wide set of steps to the front entrance and rang the bell.
When no one answered, he rang again, impatience thrumming through his veins. Why were there no staff members answering the door? Were the Mastrantinos out of town? He scowled. That would put a major kink in his plans.
He was about to ring a third time when the door opened and he was faced with a vision in white. A dark-haired vision in white. A wedding dress to be exact, floating around the woman’s incredible figure. He lifted his gaze to her beautiful face and shock flooded through him. Lina. Here?
“I thought you were my horse and carriage,” she breathed, hiking up the train of her dress.
He looked down at her silver, high heel–clad dainty feet, then back at the luxury sedan his driver had parked at the curb, wondering dazedly if he’d been transported into some bizarre real-life Cinderella reenactment. “No,” he replied slowly, looking back at Lina, “I most definitely came on four wheels.”
She blinked. “Signor Brunswick. What are you doing here?”
He noticed then the tears that streaked her perfect makeup, the vulnerable tilt to her chin, the quiver to her mouth, and damn if it didn’t tear him up inside.
He dragged his gaze back up to hers. “I am looking for the Mastrantinos. Do you live here?”
Her beautiful mouth quivered some more. He ran a hand through his hair. Cursed. Comforting emotional women was not his forte.
She pressed her lips together. “Now is not a very good time.”
No kidding. She was apparently getting married today. Not just taken, but marrying someone.