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"Isla?"
I blink to find both Zara and Summer looking at me, twin expressions of curiosity on their faces.
"Have you told him?" Zara asks.
I glance between both of my friends. This might be the first time they’ve met, but they have one more thing in common, other than me as a friend. On separate occasions, I shared with each of them the one thing I haven’t mentioned to anyone else in the world. Not my family. Not any of my other friends. They each caught me when I was at my lowest, and I was unable to stop myself from confiding in them. It’s also why I called the two of them over to give me a boost of confidence.
"No." I shake my head.
The two of them exchange glances.
"You’re going to marry him and live in close quarters with him. Don’t you think you should?" Zara frowns.
"I don’t know.” I wrap my arms about my shoulders. "Maybe I don’t need to tell him at all."
"Is that wise?" Summer massages her belly. "He’s going to be your husband. If you tell him, I’m sure he’ll be supportive."
“I agree.” Zara leans forward on the balls of her feet. “The man wants to marry you. Surely, he loves you enough to look past any surface issues.”
“This is more than a surface issue.” I twist my fingers together. “It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever faced in my life.”
“I understand, Isla.” Zara closes the distance to me and touches my shoulder. “And I don’t mean to minimize what you’ve gone through. I know how stressed you are that he’ll reject you, but have you thought of the fact that he might accept you as-is?”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“That’s his shortcoming, not yours.” Zara tips up her chin. “But I don’t foresee that happening. You chose the man. Trust your choice, lady. Trust in the fact that he loves you enough to support you and be by your side so you don’t have to go through this journey alone.”
Only he doesn’t love me, and this wedding is a farce.I hunch my shoulders, “I wish I could be as positive about this as you, but I don’t feel strong enough to take that risk.”
Besides, what if I told him, and he called off the arrangement? What then?My fledgling company wouldn’t stand a chance of surviving. No, I’m doing the right thing by not bringing this up at this stage.
“You do realize that once you tell him you’ll feel lighter?” Summer says softly.
"Also, Liam Kincaid isn’t stupid. You know that better than any of us. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out—assuming he doesn’t know already."
“What? No.” Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. But seriously, why would he know something like this? I shake my head. “I’m sure he doesn’t.
Zara knits her eyebrows over her nose. "Still, wouldn’t it be better if you told him first?"
"I… I’m going to make sure the chances of him finding out are minimized."
"Eh?" She blinks. "How do you do that?"
"Umm—"It’s because the wedding is not what it seems. This entire thing is a charade I’ve had to play along with because, thanks to my advice, Liam’s bride dropped him before they could get married. And now, I have to take her place. And, of course, I need to get impregnated… Artificially… Soon. So…yeah… No… I can’t even tell my friends because I signed a non-disclosure agreement that prevents me from sharing this with anyone else. I can’t tell a single soul. Anyway, it sounds so far-fetched. What is this? Some kind of silly romance novel with a fake wedding? To be honest, I’m not sure they’d believe me. I know I wouldn’t.I draw my lower lip in between my teeth. "I, uh, insisted on separate bedrooms."
"And he agreed?" A look of suspicion enters Zara’s eyes.
"He wants to marry me, and this was a deal breaker for me, so he agreed." My voice comes out confident, though I confess, I feel anything but. "So"—I glance down at myself—"what do you think; should I change or not?"
Zara looks closely at the dress. So does Summer. Then, as one, they say, "Change."
* * *
"Maybe this is too much?" I rub my palms down the satin skirt of the dress I settled on. It’s a deep burgundy color and brings out the highlights in my hair. The neckline is high in the front, and it has lacy sleeves that cling to my arms and end at my wrists. From the front, the dress is demure; the back of the dress plunges to just above my butt crack. It’s the mullet of dresses—business in the front; party in the back. I smother an hysterical giggle.I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I’m reconsidering this outfit, but the doorbell rings. Liam’s chauffeur is here to pick me up, security in tow, and Zara and Summer have agreed to accompany me so I don’t have to make the journey alone.
I have just enough time to check my makeup—or lack thereof, since I decided on only a little mascara and lipstick to complement the dress. I wanted to look sexy, without being obvious. Interesting, but not come-hither. Not boring, but not too provocative.
