Chapter 7
“JESUS, SKYE. WHAT in the world?”
She stared at her stepsisters through her iPhone screen, offering a weak smile. Behind her, the view of the Eiffel tower was sublime, grey and strong against a perfect blue sky.
“I know it’s a surprise.”
“Well, yeah,” Sal laughed. “You never even told us you were dating him, let alone serious enough to get engaged!” She leaned closer. “Show me the ring again.”
Skye lifted her hand to display the ginormous rock. “I know, it’s huge.”
“It’s stunning, is what it is,” Mia corrected, sipping a glass of wine. “But now we want the details. The Not-Safe-For-The-Parents details.”
Skye’s eyes flicked to the door, a guilty pink flushing her cheeks. Up until the night before, she could have answered calmly and coolly, trotting out the line she’d rehearsed. But that kiss had thrown everything for a loop, skittling her senses and making it impossible to think straight.
“It happened really fast,” she mumbled, something inside catching her eye. She looked up as Matthieu strode through the lounge, and her mouth went dry in instant awareness. He was so beautiful. So breathtakingly handsome and virile. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt, nothing particularly extraordinary, and yet he looked like a god come to life. She was aware of him on a cellular level, her stomach in knots, her nipples straining against the cotton of her bra.
“How fast?” Sal—more sensible and rational than Mia—focused her attention back on the screen.
“Oh, I can’t say,” she hated lying to anyone, let alone these two. When she’d first moved to Sydney, she’d felt a million miles apart from her glamorous, beautiful stepsisters, but over the years, they’d grown close, and despite their differences, Skye adored them. They weren’t just effortlessly glamorous and feted for being Sydney socialites, they were also kind and funny and more complex than anyone who only saw the outside image they presented to the world could possibly understand. “We met, fell in love, you know.”
“So romantic,” Mia grinned. “When can we meet him?”
“Oh.” Skye hadn’t thought of that.
“Can you come home for Christmas?” Sal pushed.
“I can’t,” Skye shook her head. “We’re spending Christmas with his family. This year,” she tacked on, because it sounded like exactly the sort of thing one half of a committed, happily-ever-after couple would say.
“That’s annoying. What about New Years then? We’re going to take the yacht out on the Harbour and Damon Alsace is catering. Come for the fireworks?”
Her sisters were renowned for their New Years Eve parties. They were always glamorous, classy and incredibly exclusive. Naturally, Skye was invited every year, but the handful of times she’d actually gone, she’d stuck out like a sore thumb, and if she were to go this year, it would be no different. Or it would be very different-and way worse-because Matthieu would be with her. The idea of him seeing her so completely out of her depth made her stomach contract.
Only, she’d been out of her depth last night, in theory, yet she hadn’t felt it. Despite the fact she looked and dressed nothing like the women at that exclusive bar, she hadn’t felt a moment’s self-doubt. Matthieu had swamped her senses. He was all she could think about.
“Where are you staying?” Sal pushed.
“At his place,” Skye responded without answering.
“Will you sign a pre-nup?”
This was all going way too fast. Skye had to think on her feet. “We haven’t really discussed it, but I guess so. That’s normal in cases like this, right?”
“Sure it is, but don’t sign anything until dad’s lawyers have had a look.”
Skye bit down on her lower lip. The lie was growing bigger and she hated that. “I can manage,” she promised. “I trust Matthieu completely.” Strangely, that was true.
“I just can’t believe I’m talking to you and the Eiffel tower is right there.”
Skye looked over her shoulder. “It’s stunning, right?” Strange that she’d shunned the capital city all this time, in preference of the regions. Actually, there was a lot to love about this city, and she had a feeling that Matthieu’s apartment would give her an amazing base to explore from.
“This is so weird,” Mia shook her head. “I feel like we should be there.”
“I know,” Skye admitted. If this were real, then not having her stepsisters around would be truly bizarre, but given it was actually a big fat lie, she was glad they weren’t here, so she didn’t have to feel guilty all the time.
“When’s the wedding?”
“Oh.” Skye’s eyes flickered into the kitchen. Matthieu was standing at the marble island bench, his phone in one hand, eyes on the screen, concentration marked on his features. But perhaps he sensed her looking, because a moment later, his gaze flickered up, pinning her to the spot. Heat rushed through her. “We haven’t decided yet,” she mumbled. “I have to go, you guys.”