“Forever,” she mouthed, smiling. His fingertip brushed across her lips, and she felt that familiar tug at her core.

“I love you,” he said simply. “I never thought I’d tell another person that. I thought I knew what that word meant. But I’ve never known this.”

She stared at him, unable to draw breath.

“What? Don’t you believe me?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

“Yes,” she said emphatically. “I love you, too.”

He cupped her jaw before he leaned down to kiss her. She’d been wrong to think they’d left behind that golden, unfurling sweetness on the sun-drenched beach at La Mer. It spread inside her now in the unlikely setting of a hospital room, all because he was here next to her, taking a risk.

He lifted his head and plucked softly at her lips with his.

“Now. Tell me,” he urged.

And with his breath mingling with hers, and that golden sweetness running thick in her veins, she gathered her strength, knowing his pain would be hers.

She couldn’t read his expression as the truth spilled out of her, no matter how desperately she tried.

“. . . and Vera showed me the birth certificates, Vanni,” she finished, her voice having gone high as her concern mounted. He just continued to look at her, an unreadable, vaguely stunned expression on his face. “Vanni, I think it’s true,” she whispered, touching his face. “But is it really that terrible? Yes, Cristina bore you, but that doesn’t take away a tiny bit of the love you have for your mother. If anything, I’d think you might love your mom more, knowing how she dedicated herself so completely to you and Adrian, despite the fact that you weren’t hers biologically. And you’re still the same person. Vanni?” she asked, her desperation mounting. “Say something.”

“That bitch,” he bit out. Emma started at the venom in his tone. “I can’t believe she did that!”

“I told you, she hated herself for not being capable of being a good mother. Cristina suffered more than you’ll ever know with the knowledge of her lack—”

“I don’t mean Cristina,” he interrupted. “I mean Vera. She spewed all that at you, and then told you that if you saw me again, she’d tell me about Cristina and . . . what? I’d go into a tailspin? The truth would ruin me forever? And you believed her?”

Emma’s face went slack. “I believed her, but with good reason. She had the proof. Are you telling me you think she was making it all up? Cristina wasn’t really your biological mother? I was being gullible?”

An expression of pure frustration and fury tightened his face. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. You didn’t do anything wrong. Vera was telling the truth. Cristina was . . . is Adrian’s and my blood mother. My father told me before he died. That’s not why I’m in shock. I can’t believe that Vera has known all these years, and that she used the information to blackmail you. What a fucked-up bitch.”

He shook his head distractedly, obviously lost in thought. His gaze eventually landed on Emma’s face. He blanched.

“Jesus,” he muttered heatedly under his breath. He stood and poured her more ice water. “Here. Drink this. You’ve gone white as a sheet,” he said grimly, handing her the water and sitting back on the bed next to her. He waited until she’d taken a swallow. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking the cup and setting it back on the bedside table.

“You knew? You knew all along Cristina was your biological mother?” she asked, shock ringing in her voice.

He sighed and shut his eyes briefly. “Just since my father died five years ago.” His gaze sharpened on her. “It wasn’t the most welcome of news, and I can’t say I took it well. Still . . . it didn’t ruin me, even if it did confuse my feelings for Cristina all that much more,” he admitted bitterly. “But that’s not the point. You were willing to keep this from me because you thought it’d hurt me that much? You were willing to sacrifice what’s happening between us because you thought that would hurt me more than losing you?” Stark pain flashed in his eyes. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

Emma shook her head, clobbered by the turn of events. Relief swept through her, escalating her emotional state even more.

He shook his head, clearly as incredulous as she was. “And the worst of it all?” he asked. “It almost worked, what Vera did.”

“No. Don’t think about that,” Emma said firmly, finding her voice. She reached for him. “It didn’t work. We’re here together.” He held her fast and she squeezed him back. “You know what I’m thinking?” she asked him with a bark of hysterical laughter after a moment, her voice thick with emotion.

“What?” he asked as he pressed his lips against her neck with feverish intensity.

“Maybe that car wreck today wasn’t such a random accident, after all.”

He stilled. His hand rose to cup the back of her head. He pulled her back slowly. Before his face lowered next to hers, she saw the fierce light in his eyes.

“It wouldn’t surprise me. I may have said I doubted you at first, but I was kidding myself. It couldn’t be more clear to me now that you can make miracles, Emma,” he said with grim finality before his mouth claimed hers.

Epilogue

ONE MONTH LATER

Emma curled up on her side on the cushioned lounger and looked out at paradise. Vanni noticed her smug smile as she stared at him, and raised his eyebrows in an amused query.

“I think I’m becoming extremely selfish,” she murmured, her voice pitched just above the silken, rhythmic cadence of the waves hitting the beach.

“I’m trying to imagine how and coming up short,” he replied dryly, moving aside the tray and remnants of the delicious lunch Mrs. Denis had made them. He rolled onto his side facing her, his head perched in his hand. She reached out and traced her finger along his ridged, taut abdomen with languorous sensuality.

“Really?” she murmured, turning her hand and brushing the stunning ring he’d given her just last night after they’d arrived at La Mer against his belly. His stomach muscles leapt against the gently scraping diamond. They shared a smile. Since Vanni had insisted upon a very short engagement, she’d insisted she didn’t want a ring until they exchanged their wedding vows on the cliffside terrace of La Mer four days from now. Vanni had had other plans, however. Almost as soon as she’d agreed to marry him three weeks ago, he’d hired Angelo Prisatti to design her ring. It was a breathtaking symphony of meticulously wrought platinum and diamonds. Suited for an elven princess, Vanni had teased warmly last night when he’d slid it on her finger and she’d gaped at it in wonder.

“I think you spoil me rotten,” Emma told him pointedly.

His lips tilted in amusement as he reached out and delved his fingers into her hair. “Most women would think I was selling them short by not giving them a huge wedding at the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild or the Château de la Napoule.”

“You showed me those places, and several besides,” she reminded him, running her finger over the soft, thin trail of hair that led from his belly button below the waistband of his swim trunks. “You gave me the choice. You know as well as I do that none of them is as beautiful as La Mer.”

“Certainly none as special to us,” he said, sobering.

“Vanni?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think that maybe we could live here most of the time?” she asked in a hushed voice.

She thought he’d be surprised or nonplussed, but instead, a small smile tilted his mouth, as if he’d been expecting her to say it. He pushed slightly on the back of her head and she leaned forward, meeting his kiss.