‘Now say you love me,’ he insisted with riveting intensity. ‘I know you do. Say it!’
The words spilled out at his command. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ Yet was love enough? Doubt screeched through her mind. ‘But, Dante, I wasn’t born to your world. You know I’m not a suitable wife for you.’
‘I don’t care about your background,’ he declared in ruthless dismissal of it. ‘I’ve been with you day and night long enough to know the person you are inside, Jenny. It’s the person I want to spend my life with.’
Still she couldn’t quite bring herself to accept it. ‘You shouldn’t judge on what we’ve shared here. It’s not your normal life, Dante. Nor mine,’ she pleaded, frightened that their relationship wouldn’t stand up under other pressures.
‘I told you before. My world is what I make it. What we will make it together, Jenny. Trust me. It will be good.’
He spoke with such forceful conviction, her fear wavered. She wanted to trust him, yet if he ever came to see her as a mistake, regretting a decision made in an emotionally fraught moment…
‘How can you be so certain it will stay good?’ she pleaded, desperately worried that she might fail to meet his expectations of a wife.
There wasn’t the slightest glimmer of doubt in his eyes. His whole formidable energy force was focused on making her believe. ‘Jenny, at the centre of our marriage will be the love we have for each other. Our life will revolve around that, I promise you.’
He believed what he said. He would make it happen. What Dante Rossini set out to do, he did.
Jenny’s defensive resistance started to melt. Hope surged into her battered mind. She was a survivor. She could adapt to circumstances. Hadn’t she done so umpteen times? So long as Dante loved her, she could make their marriage work, too, do whatever had to be done.
‘Are you sure, Dante?’ she asked, needing to hear his indomitable confidence once again.
‘Yes, my love. Very sure.’
His eyes said, ‘Enough talk.’
He dropped his hold on her face, his arms sliding around her, bringing her into the warmth and strength of his love, linking them together, bonding them in the union that their marriage would make firm forever.
He kissed her, and Jenny gave up her heart to him.
With the deepest passion she had ever felt.
With all the love she’d tried to keep bottled up.
With trust in the future they would build together.
And afterwards, she accepted the ring that had been the symbol of Marco Rossini’s love for his Isabella. She gazed down at it, understanding how very special a gift it was, representing the faith Marco had that their marriage would be as happy as his had been.
‘Do you know what a ruby means?’ Dante asked.
She shook her head. It was a magnificent ruby, surrounded by diamonds, probably worth a fortune, and she was silently vowing it would never leave her finger, never be mislaid or lost or stolen from her.
‘A priceless love,’ Dante said softly. ‘I know that’s what I have with you, Jenny, and I’ll always cherish it.’
She looked up, saw in his eyes the promise of everything she had ever dreamed of in her long years of lonely survival, and knew she was truly blessed. This wonderful, amazing, beautiful man would be there for her, filling the rest of her life with love.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Four Months Later
JENNY woke up in the Rossini palazzo in Venice and a happy excitement instantly welled up in her. This was her wedding day. She rolled out of bed to draw the curtains on the long windows. The sun was shining. Venice was shining. She smiled and lifted her hand for the beautiful ruby and diamond ring to shine in the light. Another ring would join it today—Dante’s ring—but this one would always be very special.
‘Isabella,’ she murmured, knowing it was the memory of his beloved wife that had been foremost in Marco’s mind when he had sent Dante on his mission to bring Antonio’s daughter to him, and it was the memory of their love that had kept Marco silent when he could have rightly denounced her as a fraud and sent her packing—the same kind of love he wanted Dante to know and have.
If it had not been for the two Isabellas, grand-daughter and grand-mother, she would never have met Dante. Her life would have moved along a very different path, instead of which, here she was, about to marry the most wonderful man in the world. And it was not only a marriage blessed by his grandfather, but happily embraced by the rest of the Rossini family.
Even by Lucia. More or less. Poking her nose into all the wedding arrangements, advising Jenny at every turn, meddling so much Dante had confronted her over such zealous interest, suspecting some hidden agenda designed to spoil the big day.
‘I actually quite like your chosen bride, Dante,’ she had loftily declared. ‘There’s not a bitchy bone in her body. And given the power she obviously has over your life, I have hopes she might show up a few flaws in you that I’ll enjoy making use of. But first and foremost, I would find it quite intolerable if the Rossini name was not attached to the most spectacular high-society wedding of the year. It’s a matter of family pride. And the only way to downplay your bride being a Cinderella is to highlight your status as a billion-dollar prince, never mind your feet of clay.’
‘Maybe you’d like to advise me on what shoes to wear,’ he’d answered dryly, deciding Lucia’s motives were reasonably free of malicious intent.
Jenny hadn’t thought there was any at all. Lucia enjoyed showing off her expertise in creating a social event, enjoyed ‘Cinderella’s’ total ignorance of where to go and what to do. Jenny Kent, who had nothing else to her name, was much more to her liking than Bella the cousin, who would have rivalled her own position in the family.
Sophia, also, had closely involved herself with the wedding plans, insisting she take on the role of mother of the bride, since Jenny had no family of her own. She didn’t have her daughter’s drive for organisation, but fluttered around, being supportive. An ineffective mother, Jenny thought, observing how Lucia imposed her own will on Sophia, who invariably wilted over any decision-making but was always well meaning.
As were Roberto and his partner, Jonathon. They had been having a lovely time refurbishing the palazzo’s grand reception room for the wedding party that would follow the marriage ceremony in the cathedral. Apparently Marco had not wanted to be openly faced with his son’s gay life, but Dante had no reservations about it, and Roberto was delighted that the family ban had been lifted on Jonathon being with him—his joy in this freedom overflowing into a warm benevolence towards Jenny, seeking her approval of the décor changes they had been making, wanting to please.