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“When I told her I didn’t want to hold a cactus in my bare hands and just wanted a wildflower bouquet and a regular wedding cake, the woman laughed and patted me on the head. She patted me on the head,” she repeated for emphasis.
Santiago gave a low laugh. “Querida, her weddings might be unconventional, but she is the best, and I told her I want you to have the most spectacular wedding of the season...”
“Spectacular means wasting millions of dollars on stupid stuff we don’t want, to impress people we don’t even like?”
“You said you want to fit in. A big wedding is a show of power.”
“She won’t even let me invite my brothers. She said it was because she didn’t think a plumber and a fireman would be comfortable at such a formal event, but I think she was just afraid they wouldn’t fit in with her décor!”
Not letting Belle invite her little brothers? He was willing to accept cactus and gold foam, but excluding beloved family members was unacceptable. Santiago frowned as he finished putting on his tie. “I’ll talk to her.” Rising to his feet, he held out his arm. “Shall we go downstairs?”
He felt her hands shake a little as they wrapped around the arm of his jacket, heard the sudden catch of her breath. “So many guests are coming tonight...”
“It will be fine,” he said, but he understood why Belle was nervous. Their ‘impromptu engagement party’ had ballooned out of proportion. On August weekends, the city usually was so deserted he wouldn’t have been half-surprised to see tumbleweeds going down Fifth Avenue. But to his surprise, everyone they’d invited had instantly accepted. Not only that, but more had asked to come, even coming in from Connecticut and the Hamptons.
Everyone, it seemed, was curious to see the pregnant Texas waitress who’d tamed the famous playboy Santiago Velazquez.
“Gossip has spread about me,” Belle said glumly.
“Ignore it.”
“The butler’s right, I’m nobody.”
“So was I, when I came to America at eighteen,” Santiago pointed out.
“That just adds to your glory,” she said grumpily. “Now you’re a self-made billionaire. I bet you’ve never failed at anything.”
That wasn’t true. Just five years ago, Santiago had failed in spectacular fashion.
But he wasn’t going to tell Belle about Nadia. Not now. Not ever.
Pushing the button for the elevator, he turned to her with a sudden frown. “What did you mean, the butler was right? Did he say something to you?”
Averting her eyes, she nodded. “I overheard the butler and cook and maid talking a couple weeks ago. They weren’t happy about having me as their mistress. Mr. Jones told them I was a nobody, but they should pretend to obey me until the brat was born, when you’d get rid of me.”
“What?”
“He knew I heard them talking, but wasn’t even sorry.” Lifting her gaze, she tried to smile. “It’s no big deal. I’ll get used to it.”
But Santiago’s jaw was tight with fury. That his own employees would dare to scorn his future wife, his unborn child, in his own house! His dark brows lowered like a thundercloud.
Once the elevator opened on the ground floor, he took Belle by the arm and led her down the hall, past all the extra hired staff who were setting out appetizers and flowers for the party.
In the kitchen, he found the butler busy with preparations for the meal, along with the two other live-in members of his staff—Mrs. Green, the cook, and Anna, the maid. The front doorbell rang, and the butler started to leave the kitchen.
“Jones, stay,” Santiago ordered harshly, then turned to one of the temporary waiters walking past with a tray. “Tell Kip he’s in charge of answering the door.”
“Kip?”
“The one with a tattoo on his neck.”
“Right.”
Santiago turned back to face his employees.
“What is it, Mr. Velazquez?” Anna said anxiously.
“I should be answering the door for your party guests, Mr. Velazquez,” Jones intoned.
