Matteo climbed the stairs, his eyes taking her in from head to toe. She wore sandals and shorts, the length of her legs between them golden from the sun and pleasantly curvy. A grass-green tank top creased beneath her folded arms.

Then he got to her face.

She was fair-skinned and freckled, with wary eyes that matched her shirt and seemed to be assessing him just as he was her. She held out her hand. “I’m Grace Vasile.”

“Matteo Cruz. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Are you ready to get hitched?”

The corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile. “I thought I might walk in the door first. Have a glass of water. That kind of thing.”

“Suit yourself.” She turned back into the house and he followed her, his eyes immediately going to the ornate molding that climbed up the ridiculously high ceilings.

The mansion was more elaborately decorated than he expected, and Grace seemed out of place, like a game piece thrown into the wrong box.

“How much are they paying you?” she asked over her shoulder as she walked.

She didn’t beat around the bush, did she? “My regular salary with HERO Force, plus a small bonus for the inconvenience.”

She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Inconvenience?”

“That’s right.”

She harrumphed, but turned and continued walking. She led him through half a dozen rooms, each decorated in a different color with furniture and artwork that screamed old money — and it just kept going.

He let his eyes slip down her back to the rounded cheeks of her derrière. She moved with a perfect blend of feminine sway and royal disdain, and Matteo searched for her scent on the air.

Something flowery and soft, the exact opposite of how she came off. He was intrigued. Who was this woman who found herself in need of a husband?

The information Jax gave him back at headquarters was limited. She had a baby six weeks ago in Switzerland, where she’d been staying for the past year. She left the name of the father blank on the birth certificate and returned home to Lutsia.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

“Water.” She pushed through a swinging door and held it open for him behind her. They were in a large industrial kitchen, metal counters gleaming in the sunshine. She pulled out a glass and filled it from the faucet before handing it to him. “Here.”

“Are you in some kind of hurry?”

“The priest has mass in forty-five minutes.”

He narrowed his eyes. “A Catholic priest?”

“Yes.”

Oh, shit.

He’d been expecting a justice of the peace or whatever the equivalent government official was in this country. Every Sunday school lesson he’d ever learned lit up in his brain with a flash.

While he rarely went to church, he still considered himself to be a Catholic at heart, and he hoped one day to get married in the Church. That would prove problematic if he had already done so.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“You can only get married once in the Catholic Church.” They didn’t recognize divorce, considering the couple still married no matter their legal status.

She shrugged. “So we’ll get an annulment.”

They wouldn’t be having sex, so the marriage wouldn’t be consummated and they could get an annulment with a clear conscience after the divorce was final.

“That’s true, but it’s a lot more complicated than a divorce. A buddy of mine went through it a few years ago.”

“Look, if this is something you don’t want to do—”

Did he? It certainly made this whole thing a lot more complicated than he was expecting, but he was here to do a job he believed in. “No, it’s okay. Really, I’m fine.”

“Nothing to it but to do it.” She pushed off the counter and again took the lead back through the house.

“You don’t sound like you’re from here,” he said.

“I went to school in New York,” she called over her shoulder. “I spent a lot of time in the States with my mother. She was American so we were always going back there to visit.”

A high-arched doorway led to an opulent room with red-upholstered couches and a fireplace taller than he was. A priest stood waiting, with what could only be a Bible in his hands, and Matteo stopped walking.

He looked at Grace. She held herself stiffly. She was all bravado, but underneath she was scared. He imagined she would bolt from the room like a spooked horse if given the opportunity. He offered her his arm and she looked at him warily.

“You don’t need to be nice to me. None of this is real, anyway,” she said.

Matteo looked from her to the priest and back again. “Looks pretty real to me.”

“You know what I mean.” Her eyes shifted to the other side of the room and she took in a quick breath. “My father’s here.”

Matteo’s arm was still out, waiting for her, and after a moment she took it. They crossed the room to President Vasile.

“Good afternoon, sir. I am Matteo Cruz.”

Vasile’s stare went pointedly to their joined arms. “I see you’re already in character. Let’s get started.”

Grace’s eyes flicked to his and he saw they were lightly bloodshot. She was trying not to cry, and a wave of sympathy washed over him. If this was hard for him, what must it be like for her?

Women were sentimental about their wedding day. From what he’d heard, some of them thought about it from the time they were little girls.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Nope.” She took in a shaking breath. “Let’s do this.”

Her voice was steely and he decided in that moment he liked her. When most women would have crumbled, she straightened her spine.

The cry of a baby in the distance echoed through the house and she jerked, her gaze shifting from Matteo to her father and back. “Nico—”

Her father’s voice was gruff. “You can go to him when the ceremony is finished.”

Matteo could feel her arm shaking, as if she was physically fighting with herself. The baby’s wails got louder. “We’ll hurry,” Matteo said.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today,” the priest said.

“Skip that part,” she said. “Get to the vows.”

“Do you, Grace Louisa Vasile, take Matteo Cruz to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Matteo Cruz, take Grace Louisa Vasile to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Then by the power invested in me by the holy Church and the People’s Republic of Lutsia, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

She pulled her arm free of his, turned, and left the room. He was alone with the priest and Grace’s father.

The distant cries stopped abruptly and the priest put on his hat. “I hope you have a happy life, despite this rough beginning,” he said. “God works in mysterious ways to bring us the people we are meant to have in our lives.”

There would be no happy life together for the two of them, but Matteo nodded his head anyway as he wondered what he’d gotten himself into. It was time to get used to lying, that was certain. “I’m sure we will. Thank you.”

The president turned to Matteo. “There is a small reception this evening to formally welcome back my daughter and her new husband. I suggest the first thing you do is inform your bride.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“No. As my employee, you are notably easier to deal with.”

He walked away, leaving Matteo standing in a strange room, in a strange house, in a strange country. He spun in a circle, taking it all in. He needed to get the lay of the land, just as soon as he touched base with Grace about the reception.

He headed back through the house in the direction the cries had been coming from. His mind flipped through the last hour, landing on a shot of Grace’s red eyes. He wanted to know who had put that sadness there, why her life seemed so difficult.

He chided himself.

Just stay the course.

That’s what he had to do. Do his job to help preserve democracy, and get back to the good old U.S. of A.

The beautiful woman he just promised to love and honor till the day he died had very little to do with his objective, and he’d do well to remember that, no matter how striking her eyes were.