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He was trying to make a joke but Lily’s chest squeezed tight. That her father imagined she had a choice of potential husbands was almost as heartbreaking as his unquestioning acceptance that Trip had chosen her.
‘We did connect through art,’ she said quickly. That was true too, although their connection had been very different from their current situation.
‘You don’t need to explain, darling girl. We’re just delighted that you’ve found someone you love. But I hope he knows how lucky he is, and he is lucky, Lily.’
Suddenly she could hardly breathe, much less speak. Misery was swelling in her throat. Her parents were so partisan, so blind to her imperfections. They would be heartbroken if they ever found out that Trip had picked her to be his wife solely on the basis that she was the woman least likely to spook the shareholders.
‘He does, Daddy.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I should probably be going—’
‘Of course, darling. Now you have fun. Mom sends her love, and Lucas does too.’
Lucas.
As she hung up, she stared down at her brother’s sweet face. He was the real reason she was here. The reason she was going to go through with this sham marriage for however long it took. Lucas needed to be left alone. She couldn’t take back the past, take back the part she’d played, but she could play her part now.
And there were worse places on the planet to be stuck in limbo, Lily thought as she gazed down at the Tuscan countryside. It felt both epic and lost in time, and, truthfully, if she had come here under any other circumstances she would have been enchanted.
And if this were real. If Trip had really proposed...
If. The shortest, cruellest word in the English language, she thought, body swaying forward in the soft sunlight. She was the stupidest of fools to let herself get caught up in this charade. Because that was what this was. Wasn’t it?
For him, yes. But for her...
It was hard being here with him, hard to hate him when he was so close. Harder still when he looked at her as if he wanted to know what she was thinking. Wanted to know her.
But not have sex with her.
She’d been humbled before but what had happened in the barn had been the single most embarrassing thing to happen in her entire life. She could still feel the red blotching her skin. It wasn’t just that Trip had rejected her, she had made it slap-in-the-face clear that she knew he would never have proposed to her for real, and that it hurt.
She hadn’t wanted to wait around to see the pity in the eyes. She didn’t need to. She’d seen it enough times in the past.
The first time she’d realised that she was the ugly duckling in a ballet of swans was when she was seven years old. It had been her mother’s thirtieth birthday. Her father had secretly arranged to have a family portrait painted and she and Lucas had been very excited to be in on the surprise. It had been a huge success, one of those memories that families talked about for years afterwards.
But her memory of the moment was different from everyone else’s. Staring at the perfectly rendered versions of all of their faces, she had suddenly realised she wasn’t beautiful. It had been like a thundercloud breaking over her head.
She’d never raised the subject of her otherness. She hadn’t known how because her parents had never treated her differently or made her feel less loved, less valued.
But other people did.
Some did it snidely. Others more openly. She had learned to deflect, to ignore, to not draw attention to herself, to keep her head down. Which had some positives. She had outperformed all her peers at school, and then in college, and after a few years overseeing her parents’ charitable trust she had started her own philanthropic advice platform. Her success hadn’t completely stopped the trolls, but she’d been busy doing something she loved.
And then she’d met Trip.
Her eyes stung. There must be something wrong with her. After what had happened with Cameron, she should have kept her distance. There was no need to get involved with another handsome, outwardly charming but inwardly self-serving man. Once bitten, twice shy. Or, in her case, spiky.
But Trip had smoothed out all those prickling insecurities.
He had made her feel hungry, lithe and bright with a need that transformed her from flesh and bones into quicksilver.
He had made her beautiful.
But in many ways sex made you as blind and foolish as love did. That was what she hadn’t realised before. On the contrary, she had congratulated herself for keeping things contained with Trip in a way she hadn’t managed with Cameron.
Because people like her didn’t end up with men like Trip. Not in real life. This sham marriage was all that was on offer.
In New York, the sun always felt harsh but here she liked the soft lick of heat and the tease of the breeze. She stood for a few moments, breathing deeply, letting the light play across her face and then she took a step forward between the leaf-covered branches, and touched the cluster of dark purple grapes. They felt firm and warm. But, of course, what really mattered was how they tasted, and, tongue tingling, she pulled one loose and lifted it to her mouth...
A shadow fell across her. A bird? No, it was bigger than a bird, and she turned to glare at the cloud that had dared to spoil this most perfect of moments.
