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He exhaled, then said briskly, ‘Good. I will be in touch shortly.’
I blinked in surprise at the abrupt end to the call. But what had I expected? Trumpets and confetti?
He’s marrying you to secure his child. Get used to that reality.
‘Oh, Sadie.’ My mother stood in the doorway, unapologetic about eavesdropping or the emotional tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘I’m so thrilled for you, darling. You’re doing the right thing.’
I wanted to tell her not to get her hopes up. But the words stuck in my throat, as the enormity of what I’d committed to flooded every corner of my being. When she swamped me in a tight hug, I let her effervescence counteract the quiet dismay flaring to life that reeked of what-the-hell-have-I-done?
‘He won’t let you down. Not like your father did. I’m confident of it.’
Financially? Perhaps not. Emotionally...?
I skittered away from that thought, wondering when my emotional well-being had become a factor. The idea of Neo and me was so out of the realms of possibility it was laughable.
So why didn’t I feel like laughing? Why did the solid ground I should be stepping onto suddenly feel like quicksand?
That thought lingered, unanswered, throughout the dizzying set of events that followed.
Neo’s almost offhand offer to me of his Mayfair property—If you want to be more comfortable during the process—had felt like another silken trap, but with homelessness a grim reality it was a lifeline I hadn’t been able to refuse.
The property was a world away from the flat I’d left behind. The four-storey mansion sat on an exclusive street in an exclusive part of Mayfair, complete with a basement swimming pool and a stretch limo. A Rolls Royce Phantom and two supercars gleamed beneath recessed lights in the underground car park.
Within the house itself, every surface held breathtaking works of art and the kind of thoughtful blending of antique and contemporary decor that the wealthy either paid for through the teeth or put together with indulgent passion. Since Neo didn’t seem the decorating type, I could only assume a king’s ransom had been lavished on this place.
In the five immaculate suites, every last item of luxury had been provided—right down to the whirlpool baths and voice-controlled shower. An executive chef whose specialities included catering to expectant mothers presented herself within an hour of our arrival, then proceeded to whip up samples of exquisite meals for me to try.
And barely twenty-four hours after Neo’s superefficient moving team had installed us in his property, the wedding spectacle commenced.
As did my arguments with Neo.
He’d soon found out that leave it with me when it came to the wedding wouldn’t fly with me.
Three stages of wedding coordinator interviews were cut down to one, a dozen bids from the world-famous couture houses vying for the privilege of creating my wedding dress and trousseau, together with the present and upcoming seasons’ day and evening wear, were whittled down from five designers to two.
The moment I’d managed to pick my jaw off the floor when I saw the wedding guest list, and stopped my mother from swooning with delight at the ultra-five-star treatment, I dialled Neo’s number.
A heated twenty minutes later, we’d reached a compromise.
The wedding would be small, and the choice of dress mine alone. In turn, he would pick the venue—his private island in Greece—and the date—as soon as possible.
The only thing I didn’t quibble over, was even grateful for, was the psychologist who arrived on the doorstep—despite knowing that this was simply another box being ticked by Neo on the journey to getting what he wanted.
The gambling conversation with my mother had been hard and tearful, and her acknowledgement that she had a problem and was still having a hard time dealing with my father’s desertion had cracked my heart in two.
‘I guess I should look forward now,’ she’d said. ‘You need me. I have a role as the mother of the bride and then as a grandmother.’
But within minutes of wiping her tears she had reached for her phone and excused herself, and minutes later, when I’d approached her bedroom, I’d heard the distinct sound of electronic chips tumbling on a gaming site.
Heart heavy, I had retreated.
Neo called out of the blue an hour later. Still a little out of sorts, I answered my phone.
He immediately grew tense. ‘Is something the matter?’
I barely managed to stop a weary laugh from escaping. ‘The better question is “what isn’t?”’
Tight silence greeted me. ‘You are not having second thoughts.’
