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‘You’re an accountant?’ Sophie always thought of accountants as faded and grey—not vibrant and full of life like the woman in front of her.
‘Head of Finance at Antonio’s company. It’s how we met. He says marrying me will stop me being headhunted—I let him think that. I don’t want to shatter his illusions! But I’d like to work for an international company if I get the opportunity. All those complicated tax laws would be really interesting.’
‘Quite.’ Sophie had no idea what to say, all her preconceptions tumbling down. It had been too easy to look at Bianca and see nothing but the beautifully dressed daughter of an obviously wealthy family—but there was clearly a lot more to her than that. ‘As someone who can dance and sew but gets a cold sweat at the thought of a budget I have to say I think you got the better end of the deal.’
‘Maybe. So where did you and Marco meet?’
Here it was. The interrogation. Sophie had already been through something similar from Marco’s mother, an aunt and his godmother. ‘At a party. Actually after the party, it was snowing and we sort of...collided.’
‘How romantic.’ The dark eyes were keen and focussed very intently on Sophie. ‘Snow and an unexpected encounter. And you’ve seen much of each other since?’
‘I wouldn’t say much.’ She forced a laugh. ‘How friendly everyone is and they all want to know about me.’
‘You must think we’re all very nosy. But this is the first time in a long time that Marco has ever willingly brought a date to any occasion—and definitely the first time he brought someone Mamma hasn’t set him up with. So you see, we are all consumed with curiosity to find out more about the mysterious English girl who has captured my brother’s heart.’
Who had what? What exactly had Marco intimated? ‘I wouldn’t go that far. We are still getting to know each other. It’s very early days...’
The two women had drifted over to one of the uncomfortable formal-looking sofas and Bianca sat down with a relieved ‘Oomph, my feet are so swollen. How I am going to manage a whole wedding in heels, I don’t know. I usually wear flats, I’m so tall. But Mamma insisted I wear heels on my wedding day. Luckily Antonio is tall too, so I won’t tower over him!’
‘You’re getting married soon?’ Really, it was absurd how ill prepared she was to meet this family. Next time a gorgeous stranger suggested a spontaneous trip to a family party she would insist on crib sheets and a written exam first.
‘Next week.’ Bianca sighed. ‘Only, I think I ate too much over Christmas and I’m really scared my dress won’t do up. The shame! But look at the size of my breasts! I’m going to be falling out of it, I know it.’
‘But you must have a final fitting booked, surely? There will be something they can do. Let out a seam or fit a false back. I wouldn’t worry, a good designer is always prepared for some fluctuation in weight.’
‘But she’s not here. She’s gone to New Zealand for the whole month and won’t be back until after the wedding. I didn’t think it would be a problem. My weight doesn’t usually change...’ Bianca’s voice trailed off and she looked so woebegone Sophie couldn’t help sympathising.
‘I could take a look,’ she suggested. ‘Make a few suggestions. Obviously it depends on the fabric and cut, but I might be able to help.’ As soon as she said the words she wanted to snatch them back. What was she thinking? A wedding dress? A designer wedding dress no doubt, costing thousands and made of the best silks and laces. As if she were qualified to do as much as tack a hem on that kind of gown, let alone attempt some kind of alteration, but, Sophie realised with a sinking heart, it was too late to backtrack. Bianca was clutching at her arm, gratitude beaming out of her eyes.
‘Really? You’d do that?’
‘Well...I...’
‘Oh, Sophie, that’s so wonderful. Grazie. It’s such a relief to know that you’re right here. Wait, when are you going back to London?’
‘The day after tomorrow, but I’m sure I can find time to look at it before I go, make some suggestions.’
‘The day after tomorrow? But the wedding isn’t for another week! What if something else changes?’
Sophie’s smile froze. She’d heard tales of bridezillas but had never had to deal with one before, not even at work. In fact Emma’s vow renewal was the first time she’d been directly involved with the bridal party, not a duty invite or a plus-one on the guest list—somehow she’d let her few school friends slip away through the Harry years and had never really connected with his friends’ ever-changing parade of girlfriends.
