Читать книгу Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires - Rebecca Winters - Страница 47

NICOLE FELT THE tension in her temples rise to breaking point. ‘That’s the third time she has confronted me like that and I still never know what to say to her.’

‘Why would you say anything at all?’ Rigo shrugged. ‘She is clearly angry at your mother and using you as a scapegoat.’

‘I sympathise with her. I feel guilty about what my mother did to her family. Her parents had been happily married for decades before…’ She felt sadness encompass her, knowing exactly what it felt like to have your parents disappoint you that way. ‘My mother has this uncanny knack for taking someone’s life and turning it completely upside down.’

She had been sure that Diane knew about her mother giving that interview, had braced herself for the other woman to announce it and ruin the shaky friendship that she and Rigo seemed to have come to. But now she was gone, and they were standing here discussing her mother. She knew the time had come to tell him.

‘You are not your mother’s keeper, Nicole. Do you realise that?’ Rigo said softly. ‘She is a grown woman who is responsible for her own actions.’

‘Most of the time her actions directly affect me in some way or another.’ Nicole cleared her throat, looking up at him. ‘Diane was right. I was arguing with her last night.’

‘That’s why you ran out?’

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. ‘She told me something so awful that I just couldn’t bear to stand across from her a moment longer.’ She stepped away from him, taking a deep breath as she tried to find the right words. Wringing her hands, she turned back to face him. ‘Goldie was the anonymous source, Rigo. She’s the one who leaked the story.’

He was completely silent for a moment, looking at her with something akin to curiosity. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this last night, when you were confessing all your sins?’

‘I was afraid of how you might react.’

‘In other words, you thought I would believe you had a part in it?’

Nicole paused, her eyelids fluttering up to meet his gaze. ‘Well, don’t you?’

Rigo shook his head, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. ‘Before last night, maybe. But I’m coming to see that I’ve been very quick to judge you.’

‘Well, I suppose I should be thankful for that, at least.’

‘Nicole, I can see why you want to walk away from this marriage now. But I’m asking you to reconsider. For Anna, if nothing else.’

‘We proved to each other last night that we can’t be civil or separate in this arrangement. We’re just not good for each other,’ she said quietly.

He was quiet for a moment, looking out the window. ‘Nicole, I want this marriage to work. If that means me staying as far away as possible then I will do it. To keep you and Anna safe.’

She looked into his eyes. He was being earnest. But she didn’t want him to stay away at all—that was the problem. She walked away from him, crossing her arms over her chest as she followed the progress of one errant raindrop down the window. Within a matter of seconds it had begun to pour, the landscape turning a dull grey.

She knew that backing out of their arrangement had been a decision made in the heat of the moment. Marrying Rigo was the best choice for Anna and it always would be. Looking into his eyes, she could feel the shift between them—not quite enemies any longer, but it had put them in a kind of limbo. He made her feel off balance…as if simply being around him for too long put her at risk of making a fool of herself all over again.

‘Send the staff away,’ she said suddenly. ‘Just until we leave for the wedding. Give them extended holiday leave. Then there will be no need for us to share a bed. We can each have our space until the wedding is over.’

‘Consider it done.’ Rigo nodded once, his face completely unreadable.

‘Thank you.’ Nicole took a deep breath, feeling decidedly less filled with dread than she had this morning. And yet she still felt that same tug of unease in the back of her mind. As if somehow by putting more distance between them she was denying herself something vital. But she didn’t need Rigo’s kisses in her life, and she definitely didn’t need him in her bed. Sleeping or otherwise. Boundaries were the only thing protecting her from the damage this man could do to her if she ever let him close again. This was safe.

Nicole looked down at the slim diamond-encrusted watch on her wrist and felt her anxiety peak. The rehearsal dinner was due to start in twenty minutes and Rigo hadn’t arrived yet. His entire family was downstairs, waiting to meet his bride-to-be for the first time, and she couldn’t hide up here a moment longer.

She hadn’t seen him for more than a passing greeting in the past weeks, since the magazine debacle. True to his word, he’d had Diane fired and a new journalist had taken her place. The interview had gone without a hitch and now the whole world was geared up and waiting with bated breath to witness the wedding of the decade.

She took in her reflection in the mirror, frowning at the lines between her brows. Her mother had always told her that frowning and laughing too much was a recipe for crow’s feet. She shrugged off the thought. Her mother was the last person she needed to be thinking of right now. She was probably down there already, guzzling champagne and on the lookout for husband number eight.

As expected, the PR team had advised that Goldie should not be kept out of the celebrations, to avoid any negative speculation. Well, that was their official standpoint, but Nicole had a feeling that Rigo didn’t want her mother tempted to do any more anonymous interviews before his Fournier deal was put through. The last thing they needed was more scandal.

The secret location for their wedding had been leaked in the past week, but Rigo had assured her that an increased security presence would deter any would-be paparazzi gatecrashers. Truth be told, it didn’t worry her too much. Anna was staying put in Paris until Nicole returned to collect her for their honeymoon.

Forty-eight hours apart seemed like a lifetime right now, but she knew she had done the right thing. Rigo had told her his parents were waiting impatiently to meet their first grandchild, having just returned from the Indian Ocean that morning. He hadn’t spoken of his father much, but she’d got the impression that his family dynamic was one of ease. She just hoped that she gave a better impression to them than she had given to his brother on their first meeting.

Nicole walked down the sweeping staircase, taking in the throng of guests in the chateau’s large reception area. She stood alone at the bottom, looking around for a familiar face and cursing her fiancé. She recognised some of the faces from their engagement party, but without Rigo to smooth the way she felt small and insignificant. Technically, she was the hostess—she should be commanding the event. And yet she wanted nothing more than to run back up the stairs and hide.

A man stood in the centre of the gathering, his presence seeming to make the guests flock around him. His resemblance to her future husband was remarkable—the only difference being the mop of grey waves that crowned his head and his slightly age-weathered features. A small, elegantly dressed woman stood by his side. Valerio Marchesi stepped close to the woman and smiled, dropping a familiar kiss on her cheek before she took him into a warm embrace.

Nicole forced herself to walk the few steps across the room, noting Rigo’s brother tense as he spotted her.

‘I wonder if my brother has decided to bolt,’ he said wryly, looking down at her with moderate disapproval. ‘It would be an awful pity to leave you jilted, Nicole.’

The older brunette stepped forward, taking her in from head to toe. ‘You must be my future daughter-in-law,’ she said, her voice heavily accented. ‘I must apologise that you’re being left to introduce yourself alone. I can imagine this is quite intimidating.’

‘Rigo has likely been delayed at the office,’ she said, her voice shaking slightly with nerves. ‘But I’m sure he’ll be here soon.’

Rigo’s mother made no move to embrace her nor did she formally introduce herself. His father was deep in conversation and made no move to greet her. Nicole stood in awkward silence, not quite knowing what move to make next.

Her relief when the main door opened was palpable, and the small gathering turned as Rigo entered. He was commandeered instantly by a group of friends near the doorway.

‘My son likes to make an entrance.’ A deep male voice boomed next to her. ‘My apologies for not greeting you straight away. These buffoons still think I hold some power in the fashion industry.’ The man chuckled, the scent of red wine on his breath as he leaned forward. ‘I’m Amerigo Marchesi Senior. You’ve met my wife, Renata?’

He embraced Nicole with the force of a bear, dropping a warm kiss on each cheek before motioning for his wife to do the same.

Nicole noted the tightness around Rigo’s mother’s mouth as she leaned forward to embrace her. She got the distinct impression that the woman already disliked her. Wonderful.

‘We are quite eager to meet little Anna, aren’t we, tesoro?’ Amerigo smiled.

Renata raised a brow, unimpressed. ‘Rigo has been very tight-lipped about it all. We were only told this week, as a matter of fact. Our only grandchild and we haven’t even seen a photograph.’ Renata pursed her lips, looking across to where her son stood.

Nicole saw a telltale tremor in Renata’s lower lip for a brief moment before the woman covered it up by taking a sip from her wine glass. She was hurt at being kept out of the loop. Nicole felt a pang of sympathy for the woman.

She opened her purse, taking out the photograph of Anna that she carried with her for good luck. She held the glossy image out to the older woman, noting how her eyes softened as she accepted it and cradled it in her hands.

‘She has the Marchesi eyes,’ she whispered with awe. ‘I can hardly believe that she is real—she looks like a little doll.’

‘She is very like Rigo,’ Nicole agreed, missing her daughter intensely.

‘Ah, but she has hair like her mother.’ Amerigo smiled, taking her hand in his own. ‘You will make a beautiful bride, Nicole. And I wish you both great happiness.’

Nicole felt her throat tighten at the man’s words. He was nothing like she had imagined. Neither of them were. She shook her head as Renata made to return the picture. ‘No, please keep it. I have plenty more.’

As Amerigo moved away to go and greet his son Renata took her hand, gesturing for them to move to the side of the room together. Nicole waited for the disapproval, the scorn that she expected as the woman who had brought scandal on this ancient family. She was completely taken by surprise when Renata leaned forward and hugged her—a real embrace, unlike the formal one before. She relaxed her shoulders, feeling the warmth seep into her bones.

The older woman pulled back a fraction. ‘I’m sorry if I’m giving you mixed signals, my dear. But I wasn’t sure…’

What she had been about to say was drowned out by a familiar high-pitched voice. Nicole’s mother was making her way towards them across the hall. ‘I simply must introduce myself to the mother of the groom.’ Goldie fawned over Renata, laying an exaggerated kiss on each of her cheeks. ‘Isn’t this all just so heartbreakingly romantic?’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Renata said demurely, taking a discreet look down at the photograph in her hand and smiling. ‘I’m looking forward to having them both in Tuscany once this has all died down. I can’t wait to get my hands on this little piccolina.’

Nicole saw the light die in Goldie’s eyes as they narrowed in on the photograph. ‘Oh, how delightful. May I see?’

Before Nicole could intervene, Goldie had reached out and grabbed it from Renata’s hands.

‘So nice of you to make plans with the grandparents, Nicole.’ Goldie’s lips pursed as she stared at Anna’s picture. ‘I’m not privileged enough to meet the little princess, you see,’ she said darkly.

‘Mum, why don’t we go outside?’ Nicole stepped forward, taking hold of her mother’s elbow gently.

Goldie shrugged her off. ‘I thought she’d have nice tanned skin, like her father,’ she mused, looking closely at the picture. ‘Thank goodness she didn’t get his nose, though.’

‘I’ll take that back, thank you.’ Renata reached out and plucked the photograph from Goldie’s hands just as Rigo appeared beside them.

‘Is everything all right here, ladies?’

‘Oh, here he is—the knight in shining armour,’ Goldie spat. ‘I’ve just had the privilege of meeting your mother, Signor Marchesi.’

She exaggerated the r’s with a roll of her tongue and Nicole suddenly realised her mother was roaring drunk.

‘Mum, perhaps you should go and drink some water,’ Nicole suggested weakly, seeing that her mother’s mood had shifted for the worse.

‘Oh, shut up, Nicole,’ Goldie said, pushing her hand away with vehemence. ‘Look at you—pretending to be all sweetness and sophistication.’ Goldie continued to raise her voice, looking to Renata, who was frozen in shock. ‘I’m the one who did all this for her. Me! You’d still be hiding away if I hadn’t drawn you out.’ She stepped dangerously close to Nicole, the smell of sour champagne heavy on her breath. ‘And suddenly you’re too good for me? You are nothing but an ungrateful little—’

Rigo caught Goldie’s hand just as it flew up into the air. The look of thunder on his face made Nicole’s stomach flip. ‘That will be enough,’ he said darkly.

The entire room full of guests had turned to watch the altercation. Nicole felt hot embarrassment sweep up her neck and into her cheeks. Rigo was fully prepared to deal with Goldie and send her out on her ear—she could see that clearly. But something in his face prompted her to step forward, placing her hand on her mother’s arm.

‘I would advise you to leave now if you ever hope to meet your grandchild at all,’ she said quietly, knowing Renata was still within earshot.

‘You owe me…’ Goldie slurred. ‘You know what I did—’

‘I owe you nothing,’ Nicole said with cold finality. ‘You are lucky that I’m still speaking to you after the way you’ve treated me. Now please leave before we have to do this the hard way.’

Goldie looked as if she was going to fight, and her eyes narrowed horribly on Rigo’s mother. But finally, with a heaving sigh, she shook her head and allowed Rigo to guide her across the hall.

‘I’m sorry you had to witness that.’ Nicole turned to Renata.

‘She is the one who should be sorry, my girl.’ Rigo’s mother shook her head. ‘You shouldn’t have to tolerate that kind of intimidation—least of all from your mother.’

‘She means well…I think,’ Nicole said.

Renata sighed. ‘You have a kind heart, Nicole. Take my advice and protect it from people who don’t take care with it.’

Nicole smiled, still preoccupied with watching Rigo’s progress across the room. It was a strange feeling, knowing she suddenly had someone looking out for her. That he was prepared to stand in her corner and fight. She had grown used to conceding defeat time and time again. The comfort of telling herself that she didn’t care had always been like a blanket, stopping her from changing or growing. Somehow knowing that he thought she was worth defending gave her the confidence to want to defend herself. She didn’t want to be weak anymore. She wanted to care enough about being treated badly that she would stand up and fight her own ground.

‘I want to wish my brother and his beautiful bride-to-be a long and happy marriage.’ Valerio Marchesi clapped his older brother hard on the back. ‘Cent’anni—to one hundred years!’ He shouted the traditional Italian toast, which was quickly repeated by the intimate gathering of guests at the rehearsal dinner.

‘Grazie, little brother.’ Rigo raised his glass briefly, before downing the champagne in one go.

All his senses were heightened by the presence of the woman by his side. Nicole looked so quietly radiant in her strapless black dress that anyone might think her silence all evening was simply a result of bridal nerves. But he knew better.

He silently cursed Goldie Duvalle for being such a callous, selfish human being. It had taken all his willpower to step back. Nicole had handled the situation with infinitely more grace than he would have. Rehearsal dinner be damned—he’d wanted nothing more than to have the woman dragged out of the room by security and thrown on the first flight back to wherever she’d come from.

He half listened to his father and brother, who were deep in conversation comparing their latest travel stories. Valerio Marchesi was a wild card. He had declined their father’s invitation into the family business in order to pursue his own career, chartering yachts and luxury sailing boats around the Caribbean. Now, ten years later, he was a success in his own right, co-owner of one of the biggest luxury maritime-vessel charter companies in the world.

Rigo envied his younger brother his freedom, his lack of responsibility. Normally he would have been eager to hear about Valerio’s pirate-like exploits on the high seas, but tonight his mind just wasn’t focused. Try as he did to stop them, his eyes kept straying to Nicole.

Once the dinner had ended and all the wine had been drunk, the guests began to filter up to their rooms. He stood in the hallway with his parents to say goodnight. Nicole was deep in conversation with his mother and aunts. Valerio stood by his side, arms crossed, filled with the same tension he had seen in him all evening.

‘You look s if you’ve sucked on a lemon.’ Rigo raised a brow at his younger brother. ‘Careful, or I might think your speech was insincere.’

‘I just can’t get my head around your logic, that’s all.’ Valerio shrugged. ‘But just because I don’t agree with it, it doesn’t mean I don’t wish you happiness.’

‘If you’re worried I haven’t learned something in the past ten years, then you can relax. This is nowhere near the same situation,’ Rigo warned him, not wanting to get into a conversation about his disastrous relationship history. He knew his family had been affected by his relationship with Lydia, but seeing the tension in his brother’s face made it clear that he should have been more considerate in breaking the news this time.

‘No, it’s not. At least this time you knew the woman was a gold-digger before you arranged the wedding.’ Valerio looked at him. ‘I just don’t want to see you go through the same hell you did with Lydia. That she-beast changed you.’

‘I learned a valuable lesson from that “she-beast”.’ Rigo smiled darkly. ‘Never trust a woman with anything more than your credit card. And even then at least check the bills.’

His smile died on his lips as he turned to see Nicole standing by his side, a mask of hurt on her face.

Valerio cleared his throat, taking his mother’s arm and ushering her up the stairs with a murmured goodnight.

Nicole narrowed her eyes at him, her shoulders squared. ‘She-beast?’ she said quietly.

‘That conversation wasn’t about you.’ He forced an easy smile, taking her hand into his. She pushed it away. ‘We were talking about someone else.’

She nodded once, not quite seeming to relax. ‘Charming. Your brother doesn’t like me at all.’

‘My not-so-little brother has a very large, very annoying sense of protectiveness towards me.’ Rigo sighed, looking up at where Valerio and his mother were just disappearing around the corner at the top of the stairs. ‘You’re not the only person I’ve hurt in the past due to my own stubbornness.’

She looked up at him. ‘That doesn’t explain why he’s taking it out on me.’

‘It’s this situation we’re in. This whirlwind wedding. It’s an uncomfortable reminder for them all of the last time I told them I was engaged.’

Rigo continued, oblivious to the horrified expression she knew must be on her face. ‘I was engaged to be married ten years ago and it ended…badly.’

‘What happened?’ Nicole asked, even though a part of her didn’t want to believe he’d been engaged to someone else at all.

‘Just the usual stuff.’ He shrugged, looking down at the floor briefly. ‘The break-up was rather messy, and my mother took it quite hard. The wedding had been planned, invitations sent out.’

‘That sounds like a nightmare,’ she breathed.

A strange look came over his face—a mask of emotion so intense it took her breath away. All of a sudden it was gone, replaced by a blank stare.

‘It was many years ago, Nicole.’

He reached down to take her hand in his once more and this time she didn’t push it away. Knowing he had a heart after all, knowing he had been affected on some level by heartache, made her want to be the one to heal him.

She had felt it all evening—this tingling sensation in her chest that increased as their wedding day grew nearer. She’d kept telling herself that this was just another promotional appearance, that it meant nothing. But meeting his family and presenting them with this show of love and devotion had made her begin to wish it wasn’t all an act.

But she knew from experience that hope was a dangerous emotion.

The next morning Nicole stood in front of the full-length mirror with a sense of overwhelming awe. Her wedding gown truly was a work of art, with the fitted bodice hugging her curves like a second skin before flowing out in an elaborate skirt from just above her knee.

It was everything she had never dared to imagine for herself. She turned to the side, taking in the intricate lace beading down her back and the long train of silk and tulle that flowed out behind her. Women should be able to wear gowns like this every day, she thought, smiling to herself. She felt like royalty.

Rigo’s mother stepped closer to her side. ‘My mother stood with me like this on the morning of my wedding, you know.’ Her deep blue eyes were filled with warmth. ‘She and her sisters had spent weeks making my dress, but this veil was her own personal project.’

She held out a length of delicately embroidered vintage lace.

‘She poured her heart and soul into it, and told me it would bring me and my new husband strong love and strong sons…daughters in your case.’ She smiled, brushing away an errant tear. ‘I didn’t have any daughters of my own, so I’m passing down this gift to you. Don’t worry—the stylists know not to cross me.’

‘Oh, Renata, that’s such a beautiful gesture.’ Nicole’s hands traced the delicate pattern of hand-sewn embellishments.

‘It’s my pleasure. And I hope one day you will have the gift of placing this on your own daughter’s head when she marries the one she loves.’

Nicole dipped down as her future mother-in-law pinned the delicate veil in place and the stylists began to tease out the loose waves of her hair underneath. The overall effect was so classically stunning she was speechless.

‘Love him with all your heart, Nicole. And I’ll never have to worry about him again.’

Renata kissed her lightly on each cheek before disappearing out the door.

Nicole frowned at the woman’s words, feeling them settle in her chest. His mother believed them to be deeply in love. She was happy for them. If she knew the truth it would probably break her heart.

Nicole took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves as she was left alone for a few moments in the bridal suite. This was just another day—nothing special, she told herself.

As she made her way down the staircase to meet the events team she became conscious of the fact that she had no bridesmaids and no flower girls to stand with. Only the kind-faced event co-ordinator, who now stood on the steps to escort her outside to the grounds of the chateau, where a beautiful chapel nestled halfway into the forest.

The co-ordinator and her staff hurriedly adjusted her train before the door to the chapel was thrown open. Nicole stood still at the entryway, having chosen not to have anyone walk her down the aisle. She was making her own choices now, so it seemed fitting to give herself away.

As the doors opened and she began to walk slowly down the aisle she was aware of the guests’ hushed breaths and sighs of approval.

She held her breath as Rigo turned to face her. The look of silent awe in his eyes almost brought her to a grinding halt. She reminded herself to keep moving towards him, to focus on his face and forget about everything else.

He wore a sleekly cut designer tuxedo, and his brother stood by his side in the same. She was completely on show and yet she didn’t feel exposed. She felt confident with his eyes on hers. She felt a sense of anticipation as she got closer and closer to him. But as she came to a stop by his side and looked up at him the enormity of what they were about to commit to was overwhelming.

Rigo’s hand enveloped hers as the priest began the ceremony and she fought to focus on the various prayers, then automatically repeated the phrases.

When the moment finally came for her to slide a thick gold band onto Rigo’s third finger as a symbol of their eternal devotion, to her embarrassment she felt her fingers shake uncontrollably. His tanned, muscular fingers covered hers and she saw the spark of possession in his eyes as he placed an identical gold band onto her finger.

The priest pronounced them husband and wife.

Nicole felt her breath catch in her throat at the look of dark possession in Rigo’s gaze. He took no time in pressing his lips to hers, moving his hand to her waist as he pulled her close. The kiss was a part of the ceremony, she told herself. But as he released his breath slowly she felt his fingers tremble against her waist. That one sign of weakness made her wonder if perhaps she wasn’t the only one struggling not to be affected.

He broke the kiss after a respectable amount of time—they were in a church after all—but the heat in his gaze was just for her. She knew with sudden clarity that this moment would be scorched on her memory forever, no matter what came after.

The wedding reception passed in a blur of wine and dancing. By the time Rigo’s father swept her up on the dance floor for the third time her feet were aching to escape from their designer shoe prisons.

‘May I cut in?’

Rigo’s voice came from somewhere behind her left ear as the music slowed down to a steady beat. They had shared a first dance already, earlier in the evening. The memory of it still clung to her skin, where he had pressed his face against her neck.

The photographers had been present then, trying their best to melt into the background but not really succeeding. All day he had touched her and kissed her, their charade successfully convincing the world of their marital bliss. But her traitorous body didn’t seem to realise that this wasn’t real. That he was playing a part.

Rigo’s hands rested low on her waist, his fingertips pressing just above her hips. As he pulled her close she thought she heard him release his breath on a deep sigh. But when she looked up he was looking away from her. She laid her head against his chest, her hands gripping on to the back of his jacket as she breathed in the scent of him.

All too soon the guests had formed a line to wish them well as they made the traditional exit through the arched arms of Rigo’s family and friends.

They made their way in silence up the stone steps to the master suite at the top of the chateau. Nicole stopped for a moment in the middle of the corridor to slip her shoes off her feet. She moaned with relief as her aching toes lay flat on the carpeted floor.

‘Better?’ Rigo said huskily.

She nodded. ‘It’s a long walk up here. Especially in heels.’

He took a step towards her, cupping her face in one hand. ‘I can carry you if you like?’

When she didn’t immediately respond he stepped closer again, his mouth lowering to lay another kiss on her neck. ‘I haven’t been able to stop inhaling this delicious scent all day.’

‘The photographers are gone, Rigo,’ she breathed, trying to ignore the immediate frisson of arousal that coursed through her body.

‘Let’s pretend they’re not.’

Those words seemed to unlock a tension inside her that she hadn’t known was there. This kiss was different from the others—more urgent. His hands cupped her jaw, holding her in place as his tongue moved against hers. Their breath mingled into one as the rest of the world fell away. There was no one watching them now, no one to perform for. This was just for them.

She stopped holding back and gave in to the arousal that threatened to burn her up, grabbing a fistful of his hair and groaning into his mouth as he pressed the evidence of his arousal against her. She wanted him. She wanted everything that she knew he couldn’t give her. And yet maybe just having tonight might make whatever came after easier to survive.

It suddenly seemed impossible to stop.

She took a deep breath, their eyes locked in the dim light of the corridor. ‘Rigo… If we go into that bedroom together, I want it to be real.’

Rigo took her hand, pressing it to the hard beating of his heart through his shirt. ‘Do you actually doubt that it is?’

She bit her lip, holding on to his hand as he led her down the hall and into the honeymoon suite. His lips were on hers as soon as the door had closed behind them. She barely had a moment to appreciate the romantic candlelight that glowed around the room before he was burning her up all over again. And, oh, it was good to burn.

She turned and swept her hair to the side so that he could access the row of tiny pearl closures that ran down to the base of her spine.

‘Per l’amore di Dio—is this a dress or a straitjacket?’ Rigo breathed, popping open the tiny buttons one by one at a torturously slow pace. ‘It would be easier to just rip them open.’

‘It would. But you won’t.’ She bit her lip. ‘At least I hope you won’t.’

‘I can tell that you love this dress, so I will try to control myself.’

He continued popping the tiny pearl fastenings until the dress was loose enough for her to shimmy it down. She did love this dress—not because it was haute couture, or because it was miles ahead of the fashion trend. She loved it because he loved it. And it would remind her forever of the awestruck look on his face as she’d walked down the aisle to become his wife.

Nicole let the material fall slowly down her body to the floor before stepping out of the mountain of silk and chiffon. With his eyes firmly fixed on her half-naked body, she became painfully aware of how utterly on show she was.

He stood back, undoing the knot of his tie and unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Nicole’s throat dried as his deliciously bronzed skin was revealed inch by inch, before he removed the shirt completely and dropped it to the floor.

‘Do you want me to fold that up?’ she asked coyly, unnerved by the crackling tension. ‘We wouldn’t want it to crease.’

‘No jokes, Nicole,’ he growled, grabbing her by the waist and holding her against him.

‘I’m nervous,’ she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

‘Dio, how can you not see how beautiful you are?’

‘You’re the only person to ever actually make me want to believe that.’

‘That sounds like a challenge, tesoro.’ His eyes gleamed.