So overwhelmed that he would consider her wants and needs, the small smattering of people she classed as family, soon to be stretched to include one more, Ella didn’t give much thought to what would happen next. Roman had already given her so much that she placed her trust and her future in his hands. A future he seemed to consider a little more than herself, for he presented her with a prenup, insisting her future and her father’s inheritance was and would always be hers, protected by the agreement he wanted her to sign, despite the fact she would willingly have not. It was as if he had thought of everything, and in those thoughts had put her first and foremost. And to a young woman who had always felt as if she owed a debt, to either her guardian or grandmother, it was everything.
And as she stood before the closed wooden door of the church she chose not to focus on the fact she hadn’t called Célia to tell her of the wedding, nor that her closest friend wasn’t even there. Ella felt strongly that Célia wouldn’t have understood, hadn’t even when she’d tried before to tell her how much Roman meant to her. Instead, Ella chose to defiantly remain in this little bubble world that she had created for herself and Roman.
Her pulse picked up as she cast one final glance in the floor-length mirror discreetly tucked away behind a pillar. She ran a hand down the smooth oyster-coloured silk dress that fitted her perfectly, simple but delicate silver and pearl beading detailing the plunging neckline between her small breasts and the fabric sweeping over slightly flared hips down to her ankles.
Ella hadn’t noticed the split in the skirts until she’d first tried it on and walked towards the reflection in the mirror of her grandmother’s cottage. Never before had she worn such a thing, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow a fairy godmother was looking over her. But it wasn’t a character from some long-ago-written fairy tale but her mother who had kept the beautiful gown for her daughter to wear one day. And Ella believed it was yet another sign as she stood in her mother’s wedding dress, about to marry the man of her dreams.
* * *
Everything was proceeding as planned. Better than Roman could have ever hoped, in fact. In the last month he had played his part well. And if somewhere deep within his soul his conscience thrashed, he ruthlessly thrust it aside, focusing instead on the end goal.
But strangely, as he stood at the top of the aisle of the small church with domed ceilings and faded frescos, as he smiled at Claudette, who already had a handkerchief pressed to the corners of her eyes, in the pews with only two others—neighbours who had known Ella since she was a child—acting as witnesses, he felt unease stirring in his chest.
Roman had no intention of making this marriage real. He was a monster, but not so much of one that he would take her innocence. He was sure that Vladimir would agree to his demands and the marriage would be annulled almost as quickly as it would take for Ella to say, I do. But, in spite of that mental assurance to himself, the small ceremony felt…more real than anything had for a long time.
A small whine from the floor drew his attention to Dorcas. The priest had been a little dubious about the prospect of having an animal in attendance, but Ella had insisted. Roman was half convinced that she loved the dog as much as she appeared to have fallen in love with her fiancé. Thinking of himself in the third person in relation to Ella had been almost the only way to isolate himself from her effect.
It had been Ella’s fiancé who had whisked her away to Paris. Ella’s fiancé who had listened to her hopes and dreams and Ella’s fiancé who had believed very strongly in the sanctity of marriage. For if it had been Roman himself, he would have devoured her completely on that very first day and ruined the only bargaining chip he had with Vladimir.
Roman had always marvelled at the value placed on a woman’s innocence. Yet in the month that he had worked hard to preserve Ella’s, for her own sake as much as his, he had begun to understand the fascination and had happily consigned his frustrated desire for her as the price he had to pay for his vengeance.
Dorcas whined again from where she sat by his feet, and stared up at him as if questioning whether he knew what he was doing. He frowned at the dog, a dominant warning growl threatening to rumble in his throat, and finally she turned her attention back to the church door as if knowing Ella stood on the other side.
And Roman couldn’t help but be curious as to what those doors would reveal when they parted, excusing the sense of all-consuming anticipation as mild interest rather than the raging beast of desire. He had offered to arrange for her to go to Paris in search of a wedding dress, but she had smiled and simply stated that she had it ‘covered’.
Simple. On the surface that was what Ella seemed to be, but over the last few weeks he had realised that she was nothing of the sort. In an odd way, getting to know her had been like watching someone grow into
