Page 58 of Pregnant and Stolen by the Tycoon

Genie’s gaze was momentarily on Lita, who was blowing her a soft kiss. Seve throttled back his rioting feelings, arranged his stance into a less...feral pose, channelling his thoughts into less of his marauding forebears who took without reserve and more of the modern man the world believed him to be.

A deep breath. Less concrete shoulders...

‘Much better. Now I suggest you put a ring on it before you show her your true colours.’

His true colours.

His gaze shifted past Genie back to Lorenzo, the man who’d imprinted his merciless scars on him. Were those his true colours? Or could he find it within himself to eject any traces of trauma from his soul?

The older man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Seve’s father, watched him with chilling warning, as if he knew Seve’s thought. One eyebrow rose, asking a question Seve had no intention of answering.

Not now.

Not when Genie was three feet away, her eyes set unwavering upon his.

His fearless genius.

‘I’m here. Now what?’ she asked softly in that defiant way he now knew covered a multitude of vulnerabilities. Vulnerabilities he would ensure were eliminated soon enough.

Beside him, Alessio snorted under his breath.

Seve ignored him and held out his hand to her.

She took it and stepped up beside him. And despite the tremble in her hand and the nerves that made her cast furtive glances his way, Genie Merchant made her vows.

He followed suit, the shifting in him intensifying.

Resetting his life in ways he couldn’t quite fathom yet. But he allowed it to happen because, as terrifying as it was, it felt...right.

She was married.

Genie nursed an apple spritzer in place of the overflowing vintage champagne and tried not to stare too hard at the glittering Cardosian diamond on her finger. Its setting was far more modern and sophisticated than the necklace and earring set Seve had gifted her, but it was no less magnificent.

All around her people laughed and chatted, occasionally casting furtive glances her way.

She supposed it was normal, people taking an interest in the new bride. Or maybe it wasn’t, and they just wanted to gape at the obviously pregnant woman Seve Valente had saddled himself with.

The one who’d attended her own wedding without shoes.

She told herself she didn’t care. But years of isolation had a way of sinking their claws into one’s psyche and it wasn’t easy to shake off. So she’d dug deep to find socially acceptable responses to the guests’ well-wishing. And once that had dried up, she’d chosen silence.

Seve was talking to his best man, Alessio Montaldi, the man whose intensity rivalled that of her husband, and who tugged out his phone with alarming frequency to scowl at the screen, as if he was willing whatever he was waiting for to materialise. So far without success.

A strong arm curled around her thick waist, and she startled.

Seve.

She thought he’d forgotten about her.

‘You’re either completely enamoured of your wedding ring or you absolutely hate it. Which is it?’ he murmured in her ear, and, curiously, something eased inside her. Because just like with his parting statement two nights ago, there was a touch of uncertainty in his voice that awakened the feeling again.

The feeling that hecared. That shemattered.

‘It’s certainly...unique,’ she hedged, even now afraid to embrace it. Even though her strong emotions warned her that it might be too late.

That this was a culmination of weeks of her foundation being chipped away by Lita’s acceptance, Sofia’s soft words, Cardosia’s beauty. But most of all, by this man...her husband...who evoked feelings inside her no one person on this planet could.

As much as the illogical term confounded her, she was...falling in love with Seve. Probably already had.

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