Novels by June Quinn

LUCYI matched back into the room to replug my phone, then went into the Living room to find Aurelio awake, stretching languidly. God-damned it, this man is fucking hot. I noticed he'd showered and changed into flesh clothes while I was asleep. The white shirt and black jeans he wore gave him that simple vibe, and still made him look more stunning. He sure knows how to wear his clothes because he looks fantastic in both casual and office wear."Thanks for arranging my desk.""It's no big deal. Why did you move me to the bed? I was fine where I was.""You didn't look comfortable to me. Plus you looked pretty tired." He hushed out almost immediately. "Well thank you for your concern but I don't appreciate you carrying me to the bed. We had an agreement that I would sleep on the sofa and you on the bed.""I don't remember making such a deal with you. Listen, Lucie, I don't want to argue about this. It would be wise if we both sleep on a comfortable bed. All we have to do is pick a side

Isabella The Pamplemousses Botanical Garden is sprawling and green, making the villa’s manicured perfection look like a toy. Giant lily pads float on dark ponds while tangled canopies break the sunlight into scattered gold. Dante walks beside me, hands in pockets, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He hasn't stopped critiquing the trip since we stepped out of the car. "The humidity is going to ruin that linen," he says, eyeing my dress. "And these paths are poorly maintained. A waste of an afternoon." "They have giant tortoises here," I say, trying to ignore him. "Over a hundred years old." "Captive reptiles. Fascinating," he draws out the word with heavy sarcasm. I stop in my tracks. "You don't have to stay if you're so miserable." "I'm not miserable. I’m being realistic. This is a tourist trap, Isabella. You’re letting the 'experience' blind you to the lack of utility." "Utility?" I laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. "Of course. How could I forget? Everything with you is a transacti

Dante The heat of Mauritius is heavy, but the silence between us is heavier. Isabella stands on the terrace, one hand gripping the railing as she stares at the horizon. The wind catches her dress, whipping the fabric around her legs, but she doesn’t flinch. She doesn't even turn when she hears my boots on the stone. "You should rest," I say, my voice sounding more like a command than a suggestion. "The flight was long." She finally glances at me, her eyes as cold as the cabin air we left behind. "I slept on the plane." "You didn't." Her mouth curves, a small, sharp edge of a smile. "You were watching me?" "I was working," I snap, the lie tasting like ash. "You were simply in my line of sight." She turns back to the water, dismissive. "Then you should know I was awake for most of it." I do know. I noticed the exact second her breathing changed. I felt it when her fingers tightened on the armrest during the turbulence. I watched when she finally gave up on the stars and

Isabella Twenty-five minutes is not long enough to talk yourself back into composure, but it's what I have. I change out of the gown in the suite they've given us, pulling on a simple dress that doesn't press against my ribs and doesn't smell like the reception hall. My hands are steadier by the time I'm done. The courtyard air is cool when I step outside. Lanterns glow amber along the stone walls, and under different circumstances it might be beautiful. Papa stands with Aurelia near the steps, and when he sees me his face does the thing it always does...forgets to hide how much he loves me. I walk straight into him. His arms come around me and I press my face to his shoulder, and the tears I've been managing all day finally slip past. He doesn't tell me not to cry. He just holds me, one hand moving slow and steady across my back the way it did when I was small and had nightmares. "Shh, Princess," he says, though I feel his chest shake when he says it. "You'll be fine." Behind m

ISABELLAThe reception is loud in the way expensive things always are—curated, choreographed, relentless.Aurelia has had her hand at my elbow for the past forty minutes, steering me from one cluster of guests to the next like I am something she has just acquired and cannot wait to show. This is Isabella, Dante's wife. She is lovely, isn't she? Every smile I give costs me something. Every nod. Every gracious thank you for the congratulations I didn't ask for.A woman in a structured cream jacket leans in close, her perfume sharp enough to make my eyes water."You look radiant, Mrs. Moretti." She says it like a compliment. Then, without pausing: "Tell me, wasn't this very sudden? The engagement was so quick. Should we be expecting a little announcement soon?"I blink at her. The smile stays fixed on my face, but something behind it goes very still.She means a baby. She is standing in the middle of my wedding reception asking me, with a bright and shameless smile, whether I am pregnant.

DANTE I stand at the altar with Valerio Corsini beside me. His presence is steady, as always. Every muscle in my body is locked, disciplined into stillness. My palms press flat against each other, hiding the urge to clench my fists. I hate being here. Hate that my life has been forced into a corner where this marriage is my only option.My mother sits in the front pew, dressed in deep burgundy, smiling like a woman who cannot wait to see her grandchildren. She doesn't look at me. She doesn't need to. The message was delivered weeks ago, folded into a legal document and handed to me like a gift.Marry Isabella Hart. Or watch Nico Romano inherit every asset my father spent his life building.I should have refused. I wanted to. But my mother knows exactly how to get to me, has always known since I was a boy watching my father sign away pieces of himself in order to keep the peace she demanded. She learned that power early and never let it go.I told myself I would enter this marriage on