Natalie Anderson - Be My Bride - The Right Mr Wrong / A Most Suitable Wife / Betrothed for the Baby

The pain in Victoria’s chest spilled over. ‘Did you want her? Or was she just a symbol of it all—the family, the Christmas—that whole scene that you’d never had?’

‘I just wanted her. And I gave up what I’d found—that brotherly friendship—to try to have her.’

‘No, you didn’t. You didn’t take what you could have taken. You said it yourself—you didn’t seduce me. All you did was ask a question and I was too scared to answer it honestly.’ She shook her head. ‘I was supposed to be perfect,’ she said sadly. ‘I thought I’d lose everything. And then I lost everything anyway.’ She sighed. ‘So I’m not what you thought I was. I’m no angel. I’m not some perfect thing to be put on a pedestal. I make mistakes. I can be mean. I can’t be perfect.’ She couldn’t live up to whatever image he had of her in his head. She’d only disappoint him.

‘I know that,’ he said. ‘I know you. And I just want you all the more.’

Victoria drew a shaky breath. ‘Other women had wanted you.’

‘Yeah.’ He smiled. ‘Other women had. But you were different. You were genuine. You had a softness in you. You were so attuned to other people. So empathetic. So aware of how they were feeling. You care about how other people are feeling. You want people to be happy.’

‘It’s a weakness. I put off things that I wanted for fear of what other people might say or think or if they might treat me differently. You’re so fearless. You don’t give a damn.’

‘I’m full of fear. And I do give a damn. Both are related to you.’

‘This can’t work,’ she whispered. ‘You said yourself relationships don’t work with your lifestyle. And you can’t change, you can’t stop doing something that you love because of me. I couldn’t live with that.’

‘I’m not going to stop, I’m going to adjust. I want to set up a sailing school. I actually want to settle. If I’m with you. But I don’t want to hold you back. I know you’ve held back because of other people in your life. I know you didn’t do things because of your parents and what happened with your sister, and Oliver. I don’t want you doing that because of me. But, Victoria, I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve found myself in tricky situations before—we can find a solution to this. But you have to tell me what you want. Don’t say whatever you think I want to hear. Be honest. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. If you want me to stay, I can stay. Whatever, wherever you want.’

‘I want to work.’ She blinked back tears. She couldn’t give up her job. She needed the stimulation, the security. But she also needed love. ‘And I want to be with you. I want you. I love you too.’

His arms wrapped tight around her, pulling her in close. Noses bumped before lips touched and clung and her tears fell. He leaned back against the wall, taking her with him, so they both rested against the solid structure. The most incredible feeling of relief swept through her. Relief—and disbelief too.

‘I understand you don’t want to move.’ He spoke fast, his warm breath stirring her hair. ‘I have money. We’ll get an apartment with a nice view of the river.’

Left Bank? She pressed her face against his tee before pulling back to shake her head and laugh—albeit a bit watery. ‘I’d prefer an apartment with a view of the sea or the ocean. Whichever one.’

He frowned. ‘But what about your work?’

‘It’s transportable,’ she admitted. ‘I just need a workspace with good light and an Internet connection and a post office nearby.’ She looked at him. ‘I don’t want to lose you again either.’

‘You never will.’

She curled her fingers into his tee. She nearly had lost him again. But he’d come after her. He’d held onto her.

His heart pounded against hers. She felt his tension, realised that he truly had been afraid. As vulnerable as she. She leaned closer into him and let him soothe her with the gentle strokes of his hand down her back, the light kisses he pressed into her hair.

‘It’s taken us so long to get here,’ he said softly.

‘I can’t regret it. I won’t. I don’t. I’m not the girl I was when I first met you. I couldn’t have handled you then. I can now.’ She lifted her head and looked at him, brushed her fingers on his jaw. ‘We weren’t right for each other then.’

‘You agree we are now?’ He pulled her closer. ‘I’m not letting you go again. Not ever.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Don’t doubt it.’ He shook his head. ‘There was always something about you. There was always just this. Just us. You make me want everything.’

He kissed her. Exquisite tension built between them—­delicious torture, free of undercurrents and uncertainties. Nothing forgotten, but now, there was nothing forbidden, nothing hidden. Glorious desire surged as pure happiness filled her. She loved him. And he loved her.

She leaned closer, positively clinging. His hands clamped on her hips, an iron grip, stopping her instinctive circular sway against him.

‘We need a room. Now.’ He groaned, muttered a short swearword or three. ‘I can’t breathe for wanting you.’

She laughed, enjoying the heated agony in his eyes. ‘Don’t stop breathing.’

He frantically dug a hand into his pocket. ‘I’ve got an app on my phone.’

She lifted her brows and teased, ‘Another one?’

‘Hotel finder.’ He swiped and tapped at the screen. ‘I’m locating the nearest.’

‘Liam,’ she chuckled. ‘We’re leaning against the wall of a hotel right here.’

‘We are?’ He glanced up at the flag hanging on the corner of the building. ‘Thank God. Let’s get in there.’ He peeled away from the wall and took her hand in a death grip—but she was the one who led the way.

‘Together.’ She turned her head back to smile at him.

He stopped, tugging on her hand so she stopped too. He planted a kiss on her lips and then whispered, ‘Finally and for always.’

BOOK TWO

ONE

‘No. No, no, no, no, no.’ Vivi Grace shook her head at the woman who owned every minute of her existence.

‘Too bad,’ Gianetta growled, stretching out her hand, her fingers crab-snapping. ‘No option. She’s throwing one of her worst.’

No kidding. The current hissy fit would be heard three streets away and Vivi was only five feet from ground zero, her ears basically bleeding. Gritting back a helpless giggle, Vivi unclasped her bra and wriggled the straps out from the sleeves of her shirt. Good thing she stayed out back—she’d never be seen in public without boob containment. ‘The things I do for you.’ And for the spoilt brat who was the bane of her life.

‘You’re paid ridiculous amounts of money to do them.’ Gia took the bra and glided across the room in her inimitable hovercraft style.

Vivi watched, grinning at the woman’s élan. Impossible as it was, Gia was more mesmerising and unique than her million-dollar creations. But what she’d said was true and, not only did Vivi need the money, she was driven to nail every aspect of this job. It might be completely crazy at times, but she loved her work. And given her relative youth and inexperience, Vivi still felt compelled to prove herself. She had to be better than brilliant and she worked hard to be—twenty-four/three-sixty-five.

So if the brat wanted to wear Vivi’s bra, she’d wear her bra. Definitely one of the more mortifying things Vivi’d been asked to offer up in the last four years, but no real surprise. For the biggest events of the season—New York, Paris, London and this, Milan—she did whatever it took. Tonight Alannah Dixon, global supermodel du jour, would wear the ultimate haute couture design of Gianetta Forli, supreme fashion queen and Vivi’s ‘every-minute-you’re-breathing’ boss. It was the grande finale of the most fab collection and not a thing would go wrong. Not on Vivi’s watch.