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'When you leave, I act like nothing is wrong. We'll have a modern marriage, where we spend several months of the year together and months apart, because we have highly successful careers on different continents. Business people understand that.'
'But—'
'It's nobody's concern but ours,' he said, his tone cool and confident, at odds with the banked heat in his enigmatic gaze. 'This is going to work. Trust me.'
He placed a hand over hers before she could blink and rather than pulling away, the sane thing to do, she turned hers over and intertwined her fingers with his.
With a squeeze, he smiled and her heart flip-flopped in predictable fashion.
'That's my girl. So, are you ready for tomorrow?'
'Ready as I'll ever be.'
She'd found a dress in a high-end boutique, shoes to match, and had booked a hairdresser appointment. Did a simple outfit constitute ready? A smart up-do? In reality, she'd never be ready to walk down the aisle with the only guy she'd ever really loved, knowing their marriage was fake.
'About the honeymoon…'
She snapped her gaze to his, not liking the naughty twinkle in his one little bit. 'A honeymoon isn't part of the deal.
She all but yanked her hand out of his on the pretext of reaching for her water glass, and he shrugged, a roguish smile playing about his mouth. In that moment she wished she could take it back.
She'd always been a sucker for that smile, from the first moment he'd squatted to pick up her books strewn in the dirt when she'd tumbled off the bus the day they'd met. He'd smiled his way into her life, her heart, and she'd be damned if she sat here and let him do it all over again.
'Okay, no honeymoon.'
'Good.' She folded her arms and glared at him. With little affect if his growing grin was any indication.
'But we do need to have a wedding night.'
'No way—'
'This marriage has to look real. I'm a prominent businessman in the area and if we don't go away, we’ll have to do something special for our wedding night otherwise people will talk.'
He had a point, damn him. Not a big deal. They could share a room; didn't mean they'd have to do anything in it.
'Fine,' she gritted out, her admission as painful as the time she admitted she'd sent him that secret admirer Valentine's card in eighth grade.
Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear. 'You won't be disappointed.'
She managed a nod while sending a silent prayer heavenward for strength.
She had a feeling she'd need it to resist what the reformed bad boy had in mind come tomorrow.
Chapter Fifteen
Britt's hand shook as she waved the mascara wand over her lashes and blinked several times, grateful she'd chosen the waterproof kind.
She'd already been near tears twice, first when she'd opened the door to a gorgeous bouquet of frangipanis, and a few moments later when she'd carefully hung her wedding dress encased in plastic on the back of the door.
Nick had sent the flowers. His note had been brief.
For my bride, Nick x
While the flowers were breathtaking, that one little x had her clutching them and burying her nose in their heady fragrance, her eyes filling to the brim.
She wanted his kisses, wanted him, and no matter how many times she told herself this wedding was a necessity to be free of her past, she knew when she walked up the aisle shortly she'd want him more than ever.
As for her dress, she'd wanted to buy something understated, practical, a dress she could wear again. Why spend money on a real dress when this marriage would be fake?
