rooms where they had changed, separated by miles of marble-floored corridors, which today were lined with flowers and row after row of crystal vases, so many that the scent of orange blossom filled the air. She was aware of the occasional grim-looking suited figure as she walked along, smiling when she caught sight of one of the staff peering out from behind a door or around a corner to catch a glimpse of her.
Nothing about this could be less like the quiet wedding in a register office somewhere that she had imagined when she’d agreed to the plan. Not that it mattered really, the setting didn’t alter the thing, and no amount of pragmatism could alter the fact that she was making sacred vows and she didn’t mean a word.
Sergio stood waiting outside and smiled when he saw her.
‘My grandson is a lucky man.’
Just when she thought she couldn’t feel any more guilty.
‘Thank you.’ Lara laid her hand on the arm he held out just as the massive metal-banded doors swung open and a sea of faces appeared. Beside her she heard her twin gasp.
‘It’s Hollywood meets the United Nations! Oh, my God, is that...? Lara, there’s royalty here...!’
‘I know,’ Lara gritted through a clenched smile.
Ironically it wasn’t royalty that was bothering her—it was the less tangible presence of Raoul’s first wife. How many of the people here today had watched when Raoul had exchanged vows with Lucy?
She gave herself a mental shake. It really didn’t matter if there were people here comparing her unfavourably with the blonde angel—for some weird reason she couldn’t see the woman’s face without seeing a halo—what mattered was getting through this without being outed as a total fake.
The trick was just taking one step at a time.
As she began to move down the aisle, outwardly serene, inwardly she was panicking because two steps in it had become clear that this was not one of Sergio’s good days. She could feel the tremors that moved through his body and the fingers that gripped her arm dug deep enough to make her bite her lip.
Now she wasn’t worried about getting to the altar without falling flat on her face, she was worried Sergio wouldn’t make the short distance without collapsing. She continued to smile, determined that the people watching would see her leaning on him and not the reverse.
Lara knew that for this proud old aristocrat to appear weak in front of these people would be devastating for him, and Raoul would blame her, and he’d be right to. She should never have made the offer.
* * *
Raoul stood there knowing before the organ burst into life that the reverent hush was for his bride.
It was a moment he had sworn would never happen again. The last time was enough for ten lifetimes and the poison it had left behind had burnt into his soul.
He took comfort in the fact that he would not fall in love this time—that this time his emotions were not involved. He’d fully expected to feel trapped at this juncture, he’d been prepared to feel it, but the emotion that separated itself out from the others was...actually, he couldn’t name the feeling that tightened in his chest.
The circumstances ruled out pride, not that it was an unpleasant feeling to know you were the envy of every man in the room. She was beautiful. She was about to become his wife.
For six months anyway. The thought was chased up by a vague sense of dissatisfaction, but before he could analyse it he realised that, though she was acting her head off, looking at him as though he were the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, all was not well with Lara.
For a split second he thought she was on the brink of doing a runner, then he realised what message her eyes were flashing as she turned her head slightly towards his grandfather.
Raoul stood ready to step in should he need to, right up to the point that Lara helped Sergio into his seat.
Lara felt as if she’d been holding her breath the entire length of the aisle. It wasn’t until Sergio and her mother safely took their places in the front pew and she handed her bouquet to Lily that she could actually breathe properly.
She allowed herself a small congratulatory smile before she turned to face Raoul.
Their eyes connected and the lie hit her hard. The look in his eyes, the promises they were about to make. She felt the tears swim into her eyes and wished she’d opted for a veil.
The ceremony itself went by in a blur of emotion. She could remember Raoul’s responses, his deep, clear voice, but not her own. Presumably she had made her vows because Raoul was bending his head for the first kiss, brushing his lips across hers and not acting surprised when she whispered the unromantic message against his mouth.
‘It’s your grandfather—I don’t think he’s well.’
His eyes held understanding but he just nodded as, hand in hand, they moved on to the legal part of signatures and witnesses.
At some point she saw Sergio leaving through a side door, his shrunken frame looking frail between two bodyguards.
She could feel Raoul’s impatience as they stood welcoming their glittering guests, and by the time they reached the end of the line her hand was aching and she was way beyond awed and star-struck.
Once they were seated, Raoul got to his feet and the place fell silent, all eyes on the tall, commanding figure.
‘I wish to thank all my friends and family for being here today, and most of all, naturally, my beautiful bride...’ He paused for the ripple of applause. ‘However, as you have probably already noticed, one person is not with us. Our host today, my grandfather, is feeling unwell, so I will leave you for a moment in Lara’s capable hands. Please enjoy yourselves.’
Lara watched him leave, noticing him pause to say something in the ear of a striking-looking brunette on the way out.
The woman nodded, then approached Lara with a friendly smile.
‘Tell me, Lara, do you ride?’
She took a deep breath and thought, And now I start earning my severance cheque. ‘I love horses, it’s just heights I have a problem with. My sister and I did used to help out at stables near where we were brought up—the place is run by a charity that helps children with disabilities get an opportunity to ride.’
* * *
‘I’m sorry.’ It was close on nine when Raoul came to sit on the bed where Lara was wearing a pair of silky pale green shortie pyjamas.
She looked up when he spoke and shook her head. ‘What for?’
‘For walking out on the wedding reception...’
‘How is he?’
She had got the message that Sergio’s doctor had insisted that he go to the hospital to get checked over.
‘They’re keeping him overnight. They seem to think that there hasn’t been any deterioration. It’s his drug regime that’s the problem.’ He rotated his neck to ease the tension that had climbed into his shoulders.
