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Chapter One
Raina
I swerveand barely miss treading on a bridesmaid’s gown, a ridiculous floating puffball of petal-pink chiffon that will never be worn again after today…no matter what the bride told her friends. But at least the wedding hasn’t started yet. Which means I’m not too late.
I’ll make it!I have to. The diamond bridal set I’m couriering for the Kavenev wedding is some of my best work yet, an absolutely exquisite princess-cut pink diamond solitaire surrounded by smaller white diamonds, fused to a delicate wedding band adorned with more of the precious pink and white stones. I absolutely love it, and I know the bride will too…even if I’m not technically supposed to admit I’m the designer. Mr. Donatelli has threatened me with my job often enough. I know better than to claim my work.
But I never care about that on days like today. I just want to see the bride’s face. When she sees the finished piece for the first time, her expression of pure joy will be all the validation I need. If only I wasn’t so late!
“Excuse me,” I duck again, this time narrowly avoiding two groomsmen bustling through the church foyer. “I’m looking for Mr. Randolph Kavenev? The father of the bride?”
“He’s outside with the caterer,” someone shouts, waving me off. “And tell him to get in here, we’re almost ready!”
“Thank you!” I dash back the way I came in, yanking my phone out of my briefcase to check the time while I dodge an entire family of wedding guests eager to push their way into the beautiful church and take their seats before the wedding starts. I only have a few minutes to spare.
It’s all Donatelli’s fault, too. My boss forced me to wait an extra half hour as he packaged and repackaged the wedding set, taking them out of their perfectly understated black boxes and switching them first to bright pink cases, then to pearl white—and then, after going back to his office to search for them, to heart-shaped boxes of antique cream satin. I’d nearly come out of my skin with impatience waiting for him to finish, and when he finally handed over the rings, he had the nerve to tell me not to waste any time getting here! As if it would be somehow my fault if the rings didn’t arrive on time.
But I’m close, I’m so close. I just have to get to Mr. Kavenev and transfer the rings, then my work here will be done. Crisis averted, wedding saved, rose petals and champagne toasts all around. I burst through the church doors into the gorgeous afternoon Chicago sunshine and race down the steps—
And run straight into a wall of muscle.
“Oh!” The combination of my speed, my distraction, and the rough stone steps prove more than enough match for my perfectly polished kitten-heeled pumps. I sprawl forward, briefly catching a glimpse of a sharply tailored suit, thousand dollar loafers, and an enormous hand shooting out before I’m jolted to a stop practically midair. All the breath rushes out of me, and my phone clatters to the ground. I clutch my slim briefcase to my chest as I’m replaced carefully on the steps…
Except I still feel like I’m flying.
“I’m so sorry.” The man in front of me is so big, so gorgeous, that I can only stare, trying to make sense of the work of art before me. It’s exactly the same way I feel when I see an extraordinary new design, or an original sketch that reveals the artist’s true passion for her work, or like the moment when sunshine first falls upon a masterpiece of my own making. Eyes the color of Zambian emeralds shoot straight through me, and a voice heavy and rough with an unmistakable Russian accent continues with a resonance I can feel all the way to my bones. “My fault entirely.”
“No, I…” I need to apologize, I’m sure I do, but I can’t seem to manage it. It’s as if the entire universe has stopped for a moment, and this moment—this incredibly important moment—is not one I can let slip away.
The man is everything I’ve been waiting for in my life, but didn’t realize it. Big, dark, and so powerful he takes my breath away, he studies me as if he owns the whole world. One tiny corner of my mind is clamoring for me to wake up, to snap out of it, to get back to the business I’m here to do…but its feeble voice of reason is more than drowned out by the pounding of my heart in my ears and the rush of my blood. “You…” I gasp, but there’s nothing more I can say.
“Mne zhal’?”He smiles when I can only blink at him. “You must not speak Russian. I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Do I know you?” The Adonis steps closer to me, and I remain rooted to the spot, trying to memorize his every feature. The dark sweep of hair that tumbles over his perfect face of high cut cheekbones. The full, sensual mouth. The faint stubble of beard that looks like it rests permanently on his chiseled jaw. The enormous arms and shoulders perfectly encased in an expensive suit, a suit perfect for a—
“Wedding!” I blurt, coming back to my senses in a rush as the entire world screams into place. “I’m here for the wedding.”
“Then I’m in luck.” The god in front of me smiles. He opens his arms as if to embrace me. “I am, too.”
“No…” I shake my head fiercely, wanting to do nothing more than melt into those arms, feel them gather me in and hold me tight. What is wrong with me? I lift my chin, willing myself to stay on task. “I have to go, to find Mr. Kavenev, the father of the bride. I have to give him his rings.”
Both of the man’s incredibly arched eyebrows lift in interest. “His rings?” he asks, then he snaps his finger. “The wedding set, yes? From Donatelli Jewelers.”
“Yes!” I flush with pride. This man, this impossibly gorgeous beast of a man knows where I work, maybe even has heard about the beautiful jewelry I create. I yearn to tell him all about the bridal set, but at that moment, bells high above me start to chime, signaling the top of the hour. “Oh my god, I have to go!”
I whirl around and instantly spy Mr. Kavenev standing next to a harried looking man in a black suit. I lurch forward again. Then I realize with a moment of sudden, unexpected clarity—I don’t have my phone.
There!By some stroke of tremendous good fortune, I spy it immediately, only a few steps down. I dive for it, scooping it up with dismay as I see the spiderweb crack on its surface. Not an expense I want to deal with right now, but a shattered screen is the least of my concerns. “I have to go!” I gasp again, shoving the phone into my briefcase.
“Wait—” The superhuman pull of the magnificent man behind me is almost enough to make me stop, but Mr. Kavenev is now hustling up the steps himself, and I can’t delay another moment. I race across the steps, calling his name, and sag in relief as he turns and smiles at me. He’s an older, distinguished man, exactly what you’d expect from the father of a society bride, and fortunately, he recognizes me. I rush to him and pull the sweet cream satin boxes out of my briefcase, pressing them into his hands. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” I gasp, breathless for too many reasons to count.
“It’s no problem at all.” He opens the boxes quickly, then, clearly satisfied, stows them in the pocket of his suit. “Please, stay for the wedding, if you can? You should see the joy Mr. Donatelli’s work brings to this day.”
My eyes go wide at this unexpected gesture, and I nod quickly. Then I’m swept along with the crowd rushing in to take their places as music soars high into the sky. I pull my briefcase close to my body. I’ll be able to see the bride after all! And maybe—if I’m really lucky—I’ll catch another glimpse of the man who stopped me on the steps, the beautiful man who looked at me as if he really saw me, for the first time in longer than I can remember.
I sigh with absolute bliss. This day is absolutely perfect.
