Then Stefano drew back, his dark eyes smiling down at her as if he’d been flirting.
The room, with all its elegant furnishings, seemed to spin around her. Tess stared up at him, her eyes wide with horror.
“Are you ready, Miss Foster?”
Tess turned to see the hotel’s wedding planner with her headset standing in the doorway. Behind her, Uncle Ray hovered.
“Yes. She’s ready.” Stefano’s eyes were callous as he looked down at Tess. “Aren’t you?”
Feeling sick inside, she gave an unsteady nod.
“What are you doing here, Your Highness?” the wedding planner chided. “You’re supposed to be waiting in the ballroom.”
“Of course.” Deliberately, Stefano reached down and pulled the translucent white veil over Tess’s tiara, over her face. He said lightly, “I can’t wait to marry you, cara mia.”
And, after kissing her cheek through the veil, he left.
Tess stood in shock as her uncle came forward with tears in his eyes.
“You look beautiful, Tessie.” He held out his arm awkwardly in the new designer tuxedo that Stefano had provided for him. “Are you ready for this?”
Numbly Tess took her uncle’s arm. She picked up her bouquet.
“Thank you for walking me down the aisle, Uncle Ray,” she said, barely knowing what she was saying. She felt frozen, like she was in a bad dream.
“My little sister would be so proud of you,” her uncle said, blinking back tears. “Of the woman you’ve become.”
“I wish Mama was still here,” Tess whispered. After Tess’s father had left, her mother had gone through many other short-lived romances—surely Serena would have known what to do now.
They followed the wedding planner down the elegant hallway, toward the entrance to the grand hotel ballroom, where her two bridesmaids waited outside the door. Lola refused to meet her eyes. Hallie took one look at Tess and demanded, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Tess said, looking away.
“Stefano just rushed by us. I guess that means you guys worked it out?” she said hopefully.
“You might say that,” Tess said. Maybe I’ll take our daughter and make sure you never see her again.
The double doors opened and a wave of music swelled as the orchestra started the first notes of the wedding march. Bouquets held high, Lola walked in, followed by Hallie.
“Here we go,” her uncle whispered. Tess nodded, and clutching his arm like a life preserver, she walked forward.
Hundreds of guests rose to their feet in the gilded ballroom, beneath soaring ceilings and sparkling crystal chandeliers. Tess looked around desperately for a friendly face among the glamorous strangers staring at her incredulously, as if wondering why on earth a handsome billionaire prince would lower himself to marrying the likes of her.
They didn’t know how much Tess desperately wished she wasn’t marrying him now.
Lola had been right. Why, oh, why hadn’t Tess gotten to know Stefano better before she’d agreed to be his wife? Why had she let herself get swept up in the romantic moment?
Why had she let her blindly, stupidly optimistic heart make the decision, instead of her brain?
Tess’s knees shook. Looking through the crowd, she finally saw her own friends and family, who gave her encouraging smiles. Her aunt had tears in her eyes. She saw her cousin Natalie, holding Esme, whispering happily to the baby as she pointed at Tess. Nearby, friends from her neighborhood waved at her. Women she knew from the single moms support group she’d attended last year beamed at her as she walked by, including the woman who’d introduced her to Hallie and Lola. Lacey Tremaine Drakos stood with her ruggedly handsome Greek husband, holding their baby in her arms.
Then Tess looked forward, saw Stefano, and everything else faded to a blur.
He stood alone beside the minister, without a best man, in front of the guests, beneath a canopy of roses. His dark eyes gleamed down at her.
The bastard.
Tess’s hands tightened on her bouquet. She would have dearly loved to smash his smug face with it.
As she reached the front, she barely heard the minister’s words. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” Or her uncle’s answer: “Her aunt and I do.” She barely noticed the minister’s long-winded advice on the duties of marriage. He might as well have been reading from a technical manual written in hieroglyphics.
As the minister spoke the words that would make them husband and wife, all of Tess’s feelings and thoughts melted to one single overwhelming emotion for the man beside her.
Hate.
Stefano’s expression was cool and impersonal. As their gaze locked and held, it changed. His eyes turned dark, hungry.
Tess was suddenly aware that they were flying like an out-of-control train toward the end of the ceremony, when Stefano would claim her as his wife and kiss her.
Then, tonight, on their wedding night, he would do far more than kiss her.
Tess’s toes curled in her expensive white high heels. Out of pure hate, she told herself.
But the truth was more complicated. Even in her rage, as she watched the flick of his tongue against his cruel, sensual lips, her own lips tingled in response. Against her will, her whole body sizzled at his closeness, aching in its most secret places.
“And do you, Tesslyn Mae Foster, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Gazing up at Stefano, Tess hesitated, heart pounding in her throat. She could refuse him now. In front of everyone. Tell him to go to hell. She could.
Stefano waited, his eyes narrowing. Three hundred guests held their breath.
I’ll hire a team of lawyers to utterly destroy you and your family... I’ll take our daughter and make sure you never see her again.
“I do,” she ground out, furious and wretched.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister beamed at them. “You may kiss the bride.”
Stefano lifted her long, translucent white veil off her face, back over the diamond tiara. Reaching down, he cupped her face with his hands.
Her knees went wobbly. Part of her wanted to turn away, to kick him in the shins. To scream in his face.
But not all of her. Part of her still wanted him. Even now. Heaven help her.
As Stefano pulled her into his arms, so close she could almost hear the beat of his heart, she felt the warmth of his breath, sweet and spicy as cloves. She shivered, holding her breath, frozen beneath her tight bodice.
With agonizing slowness, he lowered his head. Then his lips touched hers, and electricity pulsed through her body. He deepened the kiss, twisting his tongue against hers, publicly claiming her as his possession. She gasped beneath the brutal onslaught of pleasure, and to her shame, a soft moan came from the back of her throat.
When he finally pulled away, applause mounted like a storm swell as guests rose to their feet with a cheer.
Stefano lowered his head, nuzzling her ear. He whispered huskily, “That was quite a kiss.”
Tess stared at him, trembling between fury and desire. Fury won.
Smiling for the crowd, she ground out through her teeth, “I hope you enjoyed it. Because that’s the last time I’ll ever let you kiss me.”
His