She knew this for a fact.
She knew it was what she’d agreed to.
And still it was impossible not to wish it was real.
Impossible not to fear that it was already too late …
‘Where are we going?’ she asked when he led her towards the stairwell rather than the elevator like she’d been expecting.
He smiled enigmatically. ‘Wait and see.’ He put a hand under her elbow as he guided her carefully up the stairs, her hands busy keeping the hem of her skirt above her toes. He opened the door at the top. ‘Your carriage awaits.’
She laughed when she realised what he’d done. Another surprise. ‘We’re going in that?’
‘We are,’ he said, taking her arm in his, leading her to the helicopter, ‘via the scenic route.’
The smiling pilot organised headsets and Holly was grateful that Franco carefully fitted hers around her hair. And then they were ready and the chopper blades started rotating and her stomach flipped as they lost contact with the building and rose up high, soon soaring over the skyline of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Somehow Sydney had turned on the perfect day, or maybe Franco had organised that too, the sky a perfect cloudless blue and the sun dancing on the waters of the harbour until it sparkled like the clasp on her dress.
‘So this is why we had to be ready so early?’ she shouted to Franco.
‘Surprised?’
And she was about to nod, but then life had been one surprise after another since Franco had blown into her life such a few short weeks ago. ‘Not really,’ she said with a shake of her head in case her voice didn’t carry, and she squeezed the hand that had taken hers in his as soon as they’d taken off. She wondered how many more surprises he had in store for her, knowing that there was one surprise he wouldn’t be springing and she was mad to hope he might.
‘Look,’ he said, pointing out her window, and there it was, the iconic Sydney Harbour Bridge. They skimmed over the top before turning for another view and then heading along the harbour, past the Opera House on the right where tonight’s award ceremony would be held, and out towards the heads.
This was the way to see Sydney, Holly thought, as it was all there, all laid out below them—the beautiful gardens, the tiny bays, the mansions lining the shore and the sandy beaches.
She imagined they’d return to the hotel at the end, but no, the helicopter put down at a helipad adjacent to the Opera House where he handed her out and they dipped low under the blades.
They still had a little time so they stood by the harbour edge awhile, taking in a different view of the harbour, from a different perspective, and Holly knew that even if she didn’t win tonight, this day would still remain one of the highlights of her life.
‘How was that?’ he asked. ‘Do you feel better now?’
She looked up at him as he kissed her softly on the mouth and realised that he’d done this all for her, to make her blood fizz with exhilaration instead of fretting with nerves.
And he’d succeeded.
Because the exhilaration was there.
And the nerves were gone.
But she’d been right to fear.
Because as his lips pressed his sweet kiss on her, she realised with heart-thudding certainty that it was already too late.
She’d fallen in love with Franco Chatsfield.
Somehow she made it through the cocktail reception. Somehow she made it through the presentation of the finalists, though she knew her speech thanking Gus had sounded stiff and jerky.
‘You’re a finalist in one of Australia’s most prestigious wine awards, you’re allowed to be nervous,’ Franco told her when she rejoined him after her speech. ‘But don’t worry, you looked so beautiful up there, I don’t think anybody noticed. Now relax and have a good time. This is your night, Holly Purman.’
She smiled but how could she relax when she had just made one of life’s great discoveries, only to know that she’d made one of life’s greatest blunders?
She’d fallen in love with the man she couldn’t have.
She was doomed.
She’d never really expected to win. That had allowed her to talk to the people at her table and eat the meal that had been put in front of her even though it might have been made of sawdust.
So when she heard her name it didn’t twig, not until the people at her table cheered and Franco had flung his arms around her and the news permeated the fog that was her brain.
‘You won, Holly!’ Franco said. ‘You won!’
And the shock restarted her heart and cleared the fog in her head and she stood on shaky legs to the auditorium’s applause, her hand over her mouth, wondering what the hell she was going to say now she’d already thanked Gus. And she found one thing she could say that might not end the pain when Franco left, but it might at least let her cauterise the wound with one last night of pleasure.