Page 57 of The Scandal Behind The Italian’s Wedding

“We had business to discuss.”

“Well. I’m glad to know business is so important.” She felt wholly shunted off to the side, which wasn’t fair at all. She didn’t care.

“Minerva,” he said. “Being my wife is a role. I apologize if you didn’t realize that, but you took the vows. You needed me to fulfill my end of the brief, and I have done it. Additionally, I am acting as Isabella’s father.”

“You’re not acting as her father. You are her father.”

For the first time she was starting to worry he might not bond with her. She’d taken his reluctance as a typical reaction from a man who had no experience with babies. Now she was a bit concerned about the distance. Which was beginning to seem resolute.

“Fine,” he said. “According to the paperwork that we will soon process, I am her father.”

The distance in those words kicked against Minerva’s heart. “Yes,” she said drily.

“And you are my wife. What I need from a wife is someone to come to events on my arm and look appropriately adoring at me. I need you to help enhance my image. I most particularly need you to do this as I act on behalf of King. It would not do for me to be seeing to this business and having you looking dour beside me. You know what people would say.”

“The truth? That it’s a marriage of convenience?”

“It is a decidedly inconvenient marriage,” he said. “And I would like it to be more convenient.”

“It didn’t seem so inconvenient to you when you had sex on tap.”

“Who turned the tap off?”

“I was under the impression it was mutual.”

She sniffed off to her room in a huff and fed Isabella. Then, when the dresses arrived, so did the nanny, and she was overjoyed to be reunited with the baby.

Minerva felt slightly annoyed by it, but she was happy that Isabella would be with someone familiar.

The dresses were beautiful. Far too beautiful for her. There was a note pinned to one of them. From Violet.

Minerva nearly burst into tears, and she picked up her phone and dialed her sister’s number. “The dresses are wonderful,” she said.

She couldn’t put on a front, not now. She didn’t have the strength to. Violet had breached her hiding place, and she couldn’t be angry. She wanted to connect to someone too badly.

“What’s wrong?” Violet asked.

“It’s a disaster,” Minerva said. “We’re at each other’s throats. He’s not speaking to me hardly at all and he’s not... Well, he’s not anything and I miss him and I shouldn’t. It’s not fair! I didn’t ask for this part of it!”

“I don’t understand...”

The whole story came pouring out of Minerva. She didn’t want secrets between herself and her sister. She desperately needed an ally, and whatever issues she had with Violet were her own. Her own smallness. Her own feelings of inadequacy.

“Wow,” Violet said. “I mean... Minerva,” she said. “That is the bravest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

She sniffed, sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling worn down. Brave was the last thing she felt. “I don’t know if I was very brave.”

“Yes, you were. Why do you have such a hard time taking credit for the good things that you do?”

She picked at the velvet fabric on the duvet cover. “Because they’re nothing. Nothing compared to the kind of things that you and Maximus do.”

“I manufacture makeup,” Violet said drily. “And I sell it very effectively. But I’ve never saved anyone’s life.” Minerva was distinctly uncomfortable with that statement.

“You’re amazing,” Minerva said. “Don’t minimize it.”

“We are talking about you,” Violet said. “And you can’t even handle a compliment when you’re the topic of conversation.”

“Vi,” Minerva said. “You shouldn’t have to talk yourself down to try and make me feel better.”

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