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‘You would think so. But Frederick doesn’t want Stefan to think he’s blowing his own horn.’ Sunita grimaced. ‘Anyway, I’m out of ideas.’
Holly’s mind raced, imagining a young Stefan and a young Frederick, both of them hurting and having that hurt exploited by their father. The man who should have supported and nurtured and cared for them had instead manipulated them, set them against each other. Stefan had been right. Alphonse did have a lot to answer for.
‘I think I may have an idea...’ she said slowly.
‘I’m listening. And then I promise we’ll move on to wedding talk.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE WEDDING TALK progressed over the next few weeks to the wedding day, which dawned bright and clear with just a nip of chill in the air as a reminder that autumn was well under way.
Holly gazed at her reflection, knowing that Sunita’s expert help had provided the finishing touches to an ensemble that would hold up to any and all media scrutiny. Anticipation panged in her tummy as she wondered what Stefan’s reaction would be as she walked towards him.
As a real bride would have done, she had opted to move to Il Boschetto di Sole for the past few days—to prepare, to ensure the groom didn’t so much as glimpse the dress. Though she sensed that Stefan, unlike a real groom, had welcomed her removal.
The door opened and her father entered. A scrutiny of his face satisfied her that he looked well; Jessica Alderney was still in residence, keeping a strict eye on him, and he already looked the better for it.
‘You look beautiful.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And, Holly, I wish to thank you for this; you are doing a good thing for the Romano family—past, present and future. Of that I am proud, and you have my gratitude.’
The words warmed her soul, made it all worthwhile.
‘Time to go.’
He held out his arm and she took it, tried to quell the butterflies that danced in her tummy.
She followed him from her childhood home, then paused on the threshold and blinked, nerves forgotten. There, in full glory, instead of the horse and carriage she’d been expecting, sat a pink limousine. ‘Papa...?’
Thomas shrugged. ‘Did you not order this?’
‘No.’
It dawned on her that the only person who could have done this was Stefan. She gave a small chuckle and suddenly the whole ordeal ahead felt easier.
The afternoon took on a surreal quality as she climbed out of the limousine and smiled her well-practised smile at the selected photographers. Entering the chapel on her father’s arm, she inhaled the scent of the fresh-cut flowers she’d chosen—a profusion of pink and white atop elegant stems.
The pews were filled with dignitaries and Il Boschetto di Sole staff. And out of the corner of her eye she spotted Sunita, bright and exotic in a golden salwar kameez, declaring her Indian heritage with pride, sitting next to Frederick, whose blond head glinted in the sunlight that shone through the stained glass. Amil looked adorable in a suit and bow tie.
Eyes forward and there Stefan stood—drop-dead, heart-stoppingly gorgeous—in a tuxedo that moulded his form, emphasised
the intensity of his presence, his lithe, muscular power and the deep grey of his eyes. The black hair was nearly tamed, but the hint of unruliness added to his allure.
This man would soon be her husband, and she walked towards him now, watched by the world.
Remember Sunita’s advice. Stand tall. Picture happy scenarios.
Il Boschetto di Sole in her father’s hands. Stefan and Holly posing for the camera with a tiny dark-haired baby in Holly’s arms. A girl. And they didn’t give a damn...were engulfed in love for their daughter...
Whoa—hang on a second. What was Stefan doing in her happy picture? Idiot! Surely she wasn’t stupid enough to delude herself that this was for real? Yet the vision was hard to shake...
At a gentle squeeze on her arm, Holly realised that she’d slowed down, that people were looking at her askance.
Come on, Holly. It had been a blip—nothing more. The important part of that happy scenario had been the baby. Stefan was merely an unwanted intruder, sneaked in by a brain that had been temporarily dazzled by this marriage fiction.
Reset button and resume walk.
