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Her eyes slid from his. ‘It’s just the window dressing.’ Her gesture took in the dress and flowers. ‘It feels so fake, so insincere. Wouldn’t it be better to keep it low key? Given the circumstances.’
‘How much more low-key can you get?’ he asked, looking exasperated. ‘Two witnesses... Yeah, that is really over the top.’
‘Hush, he’s coming over,’ she hissed. The friend with the camera was strolling towards them, the tools of his trade slung over this shoulder.
Ezio introduced them and the other man responded with a smile and a warm handshake. If he thought the entire marriage thing, and more significantly Ezio’s choice of bride, strange, nothing in his manner suggested it.
‘So you are still happy to leave the choice to me, Ezio...just want the one distributed?’
Ezio nodded.
‘Fair enough, but you know there will be an appetite for more... I think that’s just the perfect spot... Hold on a minute; I just want to check out the light...’ Eyes narrowed, Jake crossed to the green space opposite.
‘Distributed to who, exactly?’ Tilda asked when he was out of earshot.
‘The usual suspects.’
Tilda didn’t have a clue who the usual suspects were.
‘Don’t worry, Jake can make anyone look good.’
It took Tilda a few seconds and a little gasp of outrage and she rose to the teasing challenge.
‘I thought Ididlook good!’
It was true. She was not glossy or polished to within an inch of her life like the women he was normally photographed with—that went without saying. But her hair had been co-operative this morning and the soft, natural air-dried waves that framed her heart-shaped face and fell loose almost to her waist were flattering, and her charity-shop-bargain dress looked good on its one-time outing.
Tilda was all for recycling but she rather doubted she would ever wear it after today. Unlike with a normal wedding, the memories would be ones she’d want to bury, not cherish, which was why she was surprised that Ezio wanted photographic evidence. But she supposed this was all part of thisnarrative controlhe wanted.
The upwards sweep of his heavy-lidded gaze from her feet to her face did not reveal if he agreed with her bold self-assessment, but the gleam in his eyes made her shiver.
‘Did none of the outfits I sent meet with your approval?’
Hehadnoticed. Tilda had been afraid he was going to kick up a fuss about the dress, but then the likelihood of him knowing the contents of the vanload of designer clothes that had arrived on her doorstep was remote. It had probably been a pointless gesture to refuse them but, pointless or not, it had seemed an important point to make. She had lost control of so many things but she was still in charge of her wardrobe.
‘I’m sure they were perfect.’As are you... Her stomach tightened in self-disgust as she dragged her eyes clear of his sinfully sexy face.
She adopted an amused attitude. ‘You make it sound as though you spent hours personally selecting them.’
She knew better than most that this task would have been outsourced. In the early months of her employment, he’d tried to task her with outsourcing a parting gift for one of his ex-lovers, but she had made it clear that she did not consider it fitted in with her job description.
She remembered holding her breath as she’d waited for his response, wondering if the principle was really worth losing her job over. Now she wouldn’t have been surprised by his reaction, but she’d been shocked when after a few moment’s consideration he had agreed with her. Now, of course, she knew that he liked a clear delineation between his private and work life.
What was she filed under in his compartmentalised brain now? Perhaps he’d created an entire new box:Temporary Wife/Seen But Not Heard.
‘Actually, I wouldn’t know, I refused to sign for them. I’m not pretending to be something I’m not for you. So sorry if I’m not up to your standard.’
‘Pretend...?Youaremy wife.’ He paused to allow the fact to bed in. ‘Or you will be in about ten minutes.’
Shock and fear shot through her body and she stood frozen in a furtive ‘fight or flight’ pose.
‘And as for my standards...’ His dark gaze drifted across her face. ‘You look very beautiful.’
From a point somewhere over his left shoulder where they had strayed to, her eyes swivelled back to his face, ready to react to the sarcastic smirk she was sure would be painted on his face.
No smirk, but instead there was something in his dark eyes that made her stomach knot.
For a full thirty seconds she stopped breathing, then looked away, pretending the shivery sensation in her pelvis and the tightness in her chest hadn’t happened.
