Forbidden Noble Read online

  Time was ticking. In an hour she’d be Mrs. Manfredi, though he’d probably correct her with the "Duchess of Modena." Titles sounded strange, even if she suddenly had one herself. Until now she’d just been Clara the Unfortunate as they'd called her back in school.

  Clara put on a plain white dress that she would wear to the beach and stood on a stool.

  Valentina used her measuring tape and wrote notes.

  Once she finished, Valentina motioned toward the rack and showed her six dresses. The dressmaker held up a traditional white gown with cap sleeves and puffy lace. “Do you like this, my lady?”

  Seriously? It was like the gown had been designed from her imagination, yet it was real. She traced the fabric to feel the texture as she said, “Yes. The lacework is beautiful and wonderfully detailed.”

  The designer nodded, pleased. “Thank you. It’s hand-stitched.”

  Clara patted her arm. “I would never have this skill. You’re very talented.”

  Her face turned pink. “My clients don’t normally compliment so much.” She handed it to Clara. “Let's ensure it fits well.”

  This was another moment to treasure. Clara took her amazing dress and changed in the bathroom that was rather small because it was on a yacht. She wiggled in but had trouble with the zipper and hooks. She came out half-done. Valentina fixed the back and then Clara glanced at herself in the mirror as Valentina said, “You look gorgeous.”

  She almost looked like a princess, except for the circles under her eyes and frazzled brown hair. This couldn't be her. The dress somehow gave her skin a pretty glow.

  A knock at the door echoed and Clara glanced toward it. “That must be hair and makeup.”

  Valentina fluffed the bottom of the dress and then a male voice called out, “Is Clara here?”

  She twisted her head, surprised to see the tall, lean, blond man from the lobby earlier. She doubted Max was there to do her makeup.

  Astorre was next door. Her heart raced that he might see her before they exchanged vows but that thought was silly. She walked to the door and motioned for Valentina to step aside. “Max Fionalli?”

  He leaned on the frame and came too close like they were familiar as he said, “You remember my name.”

  Clara stepped back and crossed her arms. “Astorre said you almost married his sister.” She left out the fortune-hunting part.

  Max stood taller. “He interfered with our happily-ever-after. I wanted to ensure he wasn’t trapping such a beauty as yourself.”

  The urge to laugh hit her hard, but she refrained. “Trapping? Naw. I’m good.”

  His brow tightened as if she was speaking another language other than English. He fixed his tie. “You seem like a nice woman. I wanted to warn you about Astorre Manfredi.”

  Her arms grew goosebumps. She ignored the sensation as she said, “He’s been nothing but decent to me since we met.”

  Max took a step into her room from the hall but she shook her head. He stepped back. “He’s only showing you his good side because he wants you.”

  Maybe, but that’s all she'd done too. It wasn’t like she’d told him she lived one paycheck away from disaster. “Well, that’s a thought.”

  Max let out a sigh like he knew he'd lost. “He refused to let me marry his sister, Olivia, because he couldn’t let her go.”

  Her mind raced. “What?”

  The tall, buff man was probably some other girl’s fantasy type, but he wasn’t hers. She held the door firm to ensure he didn’t try to get in again. “He’s probably said horrible things about me," he said, "but the truth was Olivia loved me and I loved her. Astorre refused to let her live her life and be happy and ensured we broke up.”

  Interesting. She’d never met Astorre’s sister to form any sort of opinion on what had happened, so all she had right now was her instinct to guide her. She started to close the door but then more women came toward her room rolling carts she’d seen at countless of Rossie’s wedding events. “Look, I have to go.”

  Maxwell reached into his suit jacket pocket and she braced like he might shoot her, but then he handed her a business card. “If you want to run from Astorre at any time, call me. I want to help you.”

  Maybe she’d overreacted but she hadn’t always lived in good areas where she could trust strangers. Clara accepted the card. “Okay. Bye.”

  Valentina motioned for the other women to enter and Clara closed the door once they were inside and checked the lock. Valentina asked, “Is everything okay, my lady?”

  She probably was taking too many precautions. She’d seen Rossie’s quizzical gaze whenever Clara had double-checked all doors and windows were locked in their shared hotel room in Paris. She ignored how her hair stood on end and said, “Of course. I want to look fantastic for my wedding.”

  The two new women opened their black cases to take out brushes or makeup trays as Valentina fastened the bathrobe around Clara’s white gown. “Then let’s get started,” Valentina said. “The ship's wedding coordinator arrives in half an hour to bring you to the wedding venue upstairs.”

  Good. She sat down while Valentina went over the gown for wrinkles and to make sure that it was safe from hair and makeup. Clara said, “Well, I don’t expect a miracle. Let’s do this.”

  She watched in the mirror as they created a face that seemed flawless.

  Her pink lips and dewy skin was just icing on the cake. Her brown eyes were now… dramatic. She was never dramatic with black eyeliner but she loved it.

  And her hair was up in curls like every cartoon character she’d seen heading off to dance with some prince.

  A dozen of the ship’s staff, dressed in white jackets and blue pants, surrounded her as she left her room, like she was in need of high security.

  A few hotel guests stared at her like she was someone special.

  The late afternoon sun landed on the deck as she stepped out, though the shore and the ship's bow was covered in fog.

  The dark and light mix added to the dreamlike state of the day.

  Music played as she approached the red carpet set down as her aisle. Valentina handed her a bouquet of red roses.

  Perfect. She whispered, "thank you,” and headed down the aisle.

  A moment later the fog lifted enough for her to meet Astorre Manfredi’s gaze as he stared at her. She finally stood beside him, and in front of the stationary cruise ship's captain wearing a blue uniform with gold pins. “Astorre.”

  “You’re a vision.” He hugged her waist.

  His warmth was all she needed. She believed this was good, even if it wasn’t her original dream of waiting for true love. She’d never end up with that anyhow, so settling for Astorre wasn’t exactly a hardship. “Let’s not exaggerate. There is enough of that in your world.”

  The captain asked, “Are we ready to begin?”

  “Yes, this is breathtaking.” She peered at the fog that moved like clouds in the distance, covering the waters of the Atlantic, meeting the Mediterranean Sea.

  The captain opened his bible as Astorre quickly said, “The Wheelhouse wedding venue fit us in as they had a cancellation because of the weather.” The top deck overlooked the Rock of Gibraltar.

  Everything was falling into place. This grayish day and interspersed sunlight was exactly what she would have wanted, if she’d actually planned. Miami was always sunny except for the thunderstorms. The warmth was still in the air but the clouds provided a respite from the blazing late afternoon sun. “Perfect for us, as I love fog. Thankfully the rain ended for our ceremony.”

  Astorre straightened his black tuxedo jacket. The color made him look devastatingly handsome, with his hard face and muscular body. “I booked us back into the penthouse for afterward, which you’ll enjoy… better seating.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Our hotel room. I upgraded us to the best suite, for tonight.”

  Tonight? Her body trembled near him. Maybe that’s why she'd said yes. No one else ever made her feel anything.
She looped her arm through his. He’d complained in Barcelona when he’d downgraded his suite to get her a room about the size, and mentioned more than once that he’d been uncomfortable in the smaller room. She said, “We’ll see.”

  The captain said, “We are gathered here today to celebrate one of life's most joyous moments, the joining of two hearts in love, and to give recognition to the union as I unite you in marriage.”

  Well, he wasn’t exactly right on the love observation, but she ignored that as her skin zipped with the question of whether or not Astorre would kiss her. She whispered, “Astorre, I’m excited.”

  “Should there be anyone who has cause for why this couple should not be united in marriage…”

  For one second she imagined Max might barge into the lovely ceremony, but nothing happened. She whispered, “Guess we were smart in not inviting anyone.”

  Astorre met her gaze with a brightness in his expression she rarely saw. The captain said, “Today we have come together to join your two lives. Today, you’re whisked out of the routine of ordinary life, and into the extraordinary, right here, right now. You met each other, fell in love, and are finalizing it with this wedding. A good marriage is your next chore that must be created. You’re never too old to hold hands, and remember to say I love you every day…”

  Most of the ceremony was a blur of her reciting "I do" as she was here, about to be kissed, finally. The captain finished and said, “You may now kiss the bride.”

  Maybe she should tell him. Her lips parted and eyes closed as she said, “Astorre…”

  “After, my love.”

  “Okay,” she managed to say as her body was tight with hope…and then his lips captured hers.

  His kiss made her forget everything else but to hold him tighter.

  Heaven help her…now that she'd been kissed by Astorre she’d never be the same.

  Chapter 4

  Astorre stared at the gold band on his ring finger as his new wife walked beside him to their upgraded room on the permanently parked cruise ship.

  The promise to be faithful, to honor and cherish her, stuck in his head. What if he had his father’s evil inside him?

  It was better to remain friendly with Clara than offer her falsehoods he’d never be able to live up to. They reached their door; he scooped her up in one arm and carried her over the threshold to their room.

  At last they were alone. He let her down and locked the door. “Clara?”

  “Yes?” She batted innocent brown eyes that made him pause. How she'd trembled in his arms and seemed to exude light from their simple kiss rocketed in his mind. He kept his voice low, but asked in all seriousness, “Was that your first kiss?”

  Her sweet face flushed like he'd caught her red-handed--she'd avoided his question earlier rather than admit the truth. “How did you know?”

  The blush faded, leaving her with a golden aura. That sounded silly. He took off his tie. “It’s in… how you glow. How is that possible?”

  No beautiful woman he’d ever met was that pure. The idea was overwhelming though Americans were different with stricter moral codes on strange things. Was she secretly religious? He didn’t know, but he waited for her as she rocked on her heels.

  Clara sucked in her painted lip on her pretty face though she was a rare jewel and just as pretty without any makeup on. She let her pinkish lip go and shrugged. “Until I hopped on a plane with my best friend, taking the place of her horrible fiancé, I wasn’t considered-”

  “Don’t say attractive,” he said, as that was the opposite of true. Any man would notice right away her slight curves and clear skin that glowed without artifice. She let out a snort but he continued, “Clara, I can guarantee that’s not true.”

  She lowered her shoulders and put her wedding bouquet on the coffee table in their suite, then kicked off her satin slippers and placed them next to her washed pink sneakers on the rack by the door. “Well, thank you, but I’m on the skinny side and until recently I had a horrible haircut.”

  Men liked all types of women’s curves. Clara was tall for a woman, slender, and sweet. There were a lot of men out there who'd want her whole package. “None of that would stop a man-”

  “I wanted my first kiss to be special,” she admitted.

  His gaze narrowed. “Was this a religious thing?”

  She unhooked the lace train of her dress from her arm and avoided his gaze. “Influenced maybe, as my grandmother dragged me to Church, but I wasn’t planning on being a nun or anything like that.”

  Clara was absolutely the wrong woman for him. Her surprises were meant for some other man, someone much better than he’d ever be.

  The world had expected him to turn into a monster, like his father, and maybe they were all right. If so, Clara was in more danger than anyone as his wife. He took off his suit jacket. “We agreed to marry for monetary reasons and friendship.”

  She stood taller and her chin lifted. “It was still probably my only wedding so I figured that was special.”

  He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt so he could breathe freely but it didn’t help. His skin buzzed with adrenaline as he massaged the back of his scalp. “Clara, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  She walked over and placed her hand on his chest. “You haven’t.”

  Her vanilla scent was mixed with cinnamon and smelled like home-cooking he’d never had. He definitely didn’t deserve it now, so he stepped away from her touch. “This wasn’t about love. It’s about ensuring your protection and my fortune.”

  Her eyes widened as she asked, “My protection?”

  “Yes.” He'd never forget how Max Fionalli had stared at Clara. She’d be married to a fortune hunter and not even realize it until it was too late. Clara was too sweet to stop a predator.

  She rolled her eyes and said, “I don’t need protecting.”

  He slide off his black shoes to put them next to Clara’s white slippers and said, “If men like Max-”

  “Even if you weren’t here, he wouldn't have a shot with me.” She spoke factually and adjusted his shoes so the pairs were straight in the rack. “I don’t tolerate self-entitled jerks well.”

  She had no idea what was out there. She was so innocent that she’d be susceptible to the first guy who kissed her. Which had been him. His spine stiffened. “I’m self-entitled.”

  She took a few pins from her hair like she didn’t want to go out for dinner anymore and laughed. “You’re not a jerk. You’re kind.”

  Astorre accepted the responsibility of being Clara's husband. She had no idea what men like him were like and he’d have to keep himself from transforming into his father for her safety. “I’m going to have to disillusion you on that one.”

  She shook her head. “Or you’re lying to yourself--but why?”

  Out of the mouths of babes. She’d been through a lot but that didn’t prepare her for a man like him. In time she’d have to grow better armor. “Tomorrow we’ll head to Avce and you can judge for yourself.”

  Clara settled on the full-sized couch in the living area of their suite. “I’m looking forward to seeing your home and meeting your sister.”

  Olivia. His sister actually lived in the house he’d now fully inherit--he'd tell her tomorrow that she didn't have to move or take responsibility as the next heir to marry. He took the seat beside her. “You've already met my friends.”

  Maybe if they stayed in their room, with dinner delivered for their wedding night, she wouldn't be nervous about life being "fancy" as she’d said on the trip, a lot. He reached behind her and unhooked the top button on her back. She pivoted away and stared at him like his touch was unwanted as she asked with a lift of her pert nose, “What are you doing?”

  Fair. The clumsy move was worse than the horrible moment when he'd been thirteen and tried to kiss Melissa, who'd slapped him. Years later he’d had Melissa in his bed just to prove himself. Clara made his palms sweat. “Helping you out of that dress.”

  Her ja
w quivered and her blush was back. “You… want to have sex?”

  Yes. Absolutely. He was already damned but he wondered what a night with Clara might be like; he'd been curious since they'd first met in Paris. He kept his hands on his knees so as not to scare her away. “It’s our wedding night.”

  For a moment she didn’t move and his heart fluttered. She had total control right now, but then she turned around, giving him her back for the dress. “Okay, but don’t ruin the lace.”

  At the top there were three buttons before the zipper. He was careful as he reached for them but just in case he ruined it, he said, “We can get you another.”

  “This one is special,” she said. He unfastened the delicate satin buttons.

  Once the three buttons were done, he brushed his hand on her exposed neck unable to ignore the strum in his veins. “I should warn you that…”

  She turned her head toward him and whispered, “It’s in every book that the first time hurts a little.”

  His face warmed. He squeezed her arm and said, “That’s wrong, and I’ll prove it, but not what I want to say.”

  She faced him again and their knees brushed though they had her satin fabric and his pants between them. “What’s going on, Astorre?”

  He was a monster. She should run in fear of him. How could he tell her that? “You’ll end up hating me eventually.”

  She tilted her head. “Why?”

  He was already a bad boy and it wouldn’t take much to turn him completely evil. He'd done things he wasn't proud of. He didn't want her to have expectations that would lead to disappointment. “I’m not emotionally open.”

  “Are you talking about being in tune with your feelings?” They were both saved from his response as their phones rang.

  He said, “Your phone is ringing.”

  “So is yours.” She stood and grabbed the phones from the coffee table, handing him his as she said, “I want to tell Rossie about… our wedding.”

  A few moments apart would be good for both of them to have cool heads. She didn’t know the real him, no one did. “Good idea. I’ll tell Stephano and then we’ll get back to…celebrating.”