If not for the black eye, I’d have thought the big brother was a myth. A legend. More fictional than real. No photos, no appearances, nothing. He’s not attended any of the parties or family gatherings over the years, not even their engagement. The engagement of his only sibling and his best friend! I mean, what kind of weirdo doesn’t turn up to such an event? Especially when he’s been the man of the family since they lost their father when Dani was a child.
He cited work as the excuse, but really, is it too much to expect that the guy sack off such commitments for his little sister...?
At least he’s had the good sense to commit to the wedding. Verbally, at least. Dani still has me on standby to give her away. Unorthodox, yes, but after her family’s no-show today I’m plugging as many holes as I can.
We were supposed to have had dinner together. Me, the bride, the groom, the mother of the bride and her brother. Both mother and brother were missing. So hell, yeah, maid-of-honour-cum-father-of-the-bride? I can totally rock that. I can even do the mother malarkey if need be. And if Tyler wants to distract Dani from her elusive family by delivering a night of...
‘Oh, baby, yeah, just like that, suck it, yeah...’
My sex-starved body pulses, tuned in, turned on, and I toss the pillow aside. I can’t stay for this. It’s weird. Too weird. ‘Time to get some air.’
I thrust myself out of bed and pull on my robe. It’s sheer but it beats walking through the castle at night in my silk cami and shorts. The entire ensemble is brand-new and an indulgence too far, but one I couldn’t resist when I saw this place in the online brochure and fell in love. The stifled romantic in me clawing its way out and taking over for a rampant few hours of online shopping fuelled by wine.
And now is the best time to enjoy the castle and its grounds. Tomorrow the place will be teeming with the other guests. Right now, it’s just me, Tyler and Dani, plus the odd very obliging member of staff. I can stroll through the grounds in the subdued evening heat and really take it in: the sounds of nature, the glistening pool, the row upon row of vines and the tall Tuscan Cypress trees, so slender and majestic as they map out the pathways and the curving driveway.
Yes, perfect and soothing to my over-active body that is too willing to respond to the activity next door!
From its ice bucket, I lift the half-drunk bottle of bubbly Dani
gifted me as she bade me goodnight and hook my sandals in my fingers so as not to make a sound on the polished marble floor.
I pull open the door and make my way past their room to the winding staircase that leads down to the triple-height entrance hall. It’s grand in both size and antiquity, and the portraits on the stone walls flaunt stories of people and years gone by.
Suddenly I feel as if I’m trespassing. My breath feels too loud in the vast space and my heart pounds in my ears as I clutch the bottle and sandals to my chest. It probably has more to do with the fact that I’m wandering around in the dead of night, wearing nothing more than fancy lingerie, than it does with the foreign surroundings. And I know I’m being silly. It is, after all, exclusively ours for the week and tonight I’m free to do what I want.
Tomorrow I can throw my focus onto making these seven days all about my best friend and her happiness. The perfect week. The perfect wedding. The perfect maid of honour.
Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
And in a venue such as this...
The heavy wooden door creaks as I open it and the breeze carries with it the scent of the rambling rose that decorates the stone archway, adding to the romantic ambience and making me smile.
Yes, perfect. Nothing can ruin this week.
Nothing at all.
* * *
‘Basta! Enough, Marianna! You get in my car, alone, or so help me—’
‘So help you what, Rafael? I’m your mother, not some employee that you can order about.’ She gives a flustered laugh, her face pinking up as she tries to smile at her latest toy boy and, Diavolo, I’m over age differences—Tyler and Dani have put that one to bed. But this one... I look to the man-child she has hooked on her arm and he has the common sense to back up a step.
‘Hey, no sweat,’ he says, more to me than to her. His smile is one-sided and so cocky it makes my blood boil. ‘You get yourself off and we can hook up when the wedding is over.’
‘No!’ my mother protests, her attempt to down-play my rule forgotten now. ‘This is my daughter’s wedding and I get to bring whomever I want.’
She stares at me, just enough of a crease in her otherwise Botoxed brow to tell me she’s displeased. Seriously displeased.
That makes two of us.
I step forward, and in spite of her statuesque height I still dwarf her. ‘Do you honestly think that turning up with a boy younger than your daughter is acceptable?’
Her laugh is wry now, pitched and grating. ‘Like you would refuse a twenty-year-old on your arm.’
I glare back at her and she wavers on the spot, her eyes flitting between her toy boy and me, before she straightens her spine and flicks her false golden waves over her shoulder.
‘I have a right to have a partner with me, Rafael.’