My hair looked like it had been struck by a tornado, my lips badly swollen, and the buttons of my blouse completely mismatched.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
First there was the scene at his grandmother’s funeral, then the scream fest at his office, and nowthis.Was marriage to Marcus Ravelli destined to turn me into the most infamous sexpot?
After taking a quick shower, I entered the walk-in closet, and it was as Marcus exactly promised. Everything I had purchased online this afternoon was waiting for me: the pearl barrettes for my hair were laid out on the vanity table, my white silk dress was hanging on a clothes rack, and below it were the limited-edition Valentino heels that I had begged one of my America-based cousins, who had connections in the fashion industry, to get for me.
Almost an hour had passed by the time I made my way downstairs, with the same maid - Ginger – escorting me to the garden at the back.
An exclamation of surprised pleasure escaped me. The garden had also been outfitted for the wedding, with a red carpet laid out all the way to the floral arbor. In it was the judge, and waiting by the steps was Marcus, breathtakingly gorgeous in a tux.
Standing at one side was a rather famous quintet, and when they started playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D, I took it as my cue to walk down the aisle.
Was this really happening?
Willem was going to kill me.
Was I really going to marry Marcus Ravelli?
Willem was absolutely going to kill me.
By the time I reached Marcus’ side, I was shaking with fear and uncertainty.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
This was really happening.
But then Marcus took my hand in his, and his heat melted the ice around me. “There’s nothing to fear,bambini.”His low, deep, voice was reassurance in itself – its familiar, accented cadence making me close my eyes.
His hand tightened.Everything’s going to be alright.
And I held his hand just as tightly.I know.
Twelve
There were candlesand rose petals everywhere, and the whole room looked just too magical and beautiful I was seriously tempted to cry.