LITMIR.BIZ

      After yet another unsettled night, Alessandra got out of bed early, not long after the sun had begun to rise.

      Showering quickly, she shrugged on a short, lime-green sundress and slid her feet into a pair of wedged espadrilles, then grabbed her camera and headed out of her suite. As she made her way up the corridor, she passed Christian’s room.

      Was he still sleeping?

      He’d been as good as his word yesterday, arriving back from his busy day twenty minutes before their first guests had arrived. They’d spent the evening glued to each other’s side, laughing and joking. At one point he had leaned in to whisper into her ear.

      ‘I think we’re convincing them,’ he’d said. At least, that was what she thought he’d said, the feel of his hot breath against her skin turning her brain to mush in less than a second.

      Dio, what was he doing to her?

      Was it any wonder she couldn’t sleep?

      She’d spent years believing marriage and babies would never be in her future. Sexual relationships had been consigned to the same void: not for her. No messy emotions to contend with, no lies for her ears to disbelieve, no truths for her eyes to avoid. Once the dust had settled with the fall-out over Javier’s lies, she’d come to the conclusion that living a life of solitude was the best for her.

      Other than her brother, she’d effectively been alone since birth. Her grandfather had controlled every aspect of her life, from the food she ate to the clothes she wore to the friends she was allowed—but always remotely, Alessandra another tick on his daily to-do list, his directives adhered to by the many members of the Villa Mondelli staff. She’d longed for someone to want to be with her for her, not because they were paid to be or because she’d passed some kind of wealth and social standing test, but for her. She’d truly believed Javier had seen beyond the surface but it had been a lie that had shattered her.

      All the protections she’d placed around herself since those awful, lonely days were crumbling at the edges.

      In three days she would be pledging her life, her future, to Christian Markos. How could she keep her emotions in a box if she had to share the bed with him occasionally?

      One night: that was all it had taken. She’d watched him sleep, her chest clenched so tightly she’d fought for air.

      She needed air now.

      She wandered to the end of the corridor and climbed the stairs that led up to the roof terrace.

      Their wedding was three days away but already a huge transformation was taking place for the party they would be having there once the nuptials were done. White tables and chairs were laid out to the specifications of their wedding planner. She stared at what was to be the top table, a sharp pang lancing her as she thought of sitting there without either her grandfather or her brother by her side.

      A part of her wanted to call Rocco, was desperate to hear his voice. But she would not. Christian still bore the remnants of the punch Rocco had given him, the black eye now a pale yellow, but still evident if you looked closely enough. Unless he was prepared to apologise and accept her marriage, he could stay away.

      Forcing her thoughts away from her brother, she headed to the back of the terrace, the part that overlooked the huge gardens. Far in the distance sat the whitewashed chapel they were to marry in. It gleamed under the morning sun, as if it were winking at her. She readied her camera and fired off a couple of shots.

      She much preferred taking photos of people but one day she wanted to be able to show her child everything about their parents’ big day. She’d been nine when she’d stumbled across her own parents’ wedding photos. Until that time she’d never believed her father had ever smiled, not once in his whole life. But, of course, it had been the pictures of her mother that had meant the most to her.

      Whenever she was asked the question of who her biggest influences were as a photographer, she always said Annie Leibovitz and Mario Testino, but in truth it was her parents’ wedding photographer. He had brought them to life in a manner that had touched her deeply and made her see them as people in love.

      She wondered if Christian had photos of his parents’ wedding day and if he ever looked at them.

      Christian. It disturbed her how badly she wanted to know everything about him, to understand everything that made him tick, everything that had shaped him. The pieces were coming together but it was like a semi-filled photo album with pictures missing.

      Resolve filled her. She looked at her watch. If she hurried, she should be able to catch him before he left the hotel for his first appointment of the day.