you tell this man—” he indicated Derrick, who stood to his right “—whom it is you wish to marry.”
Isabella’s eyes shifted to her second fiancé who towered over Randall by three inches and possessed shoulders as broad and strong as mountains. “Bella?” His dark eyes implored. “Tell them it’s me you love.”
Tears crested her eyes as she opened her mouth, but her throat clenched closed beneath everyone’s expectant gazes. And then she did the one thing no one expected...she fainted.
Washington, D.C.
Seven months ago...
“Isabella Kane, will you marry me?”
A series of gasps traveled around the large dining table at Maestro restaurant. Handsome Randall Jarrett smiled his newly acquired veneers at his girlfriend.
Isabella dropped her fork and fluttered a shaky hand across her heart. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Surely she hadn’t heard her boyfriend of eight weeks correctly.
“We’re perfect for each other,” he added, clutching her hand.
Perfect, she noted. Not “I love you with all of my heart” or “I’m crazy about you and I can’t see myself living without you.” Just a calculated “we’re perfect for each other.”
Isabella stared down at a breathtaking two-carat princess-cut diamond and had a hard time pushing the word “no” through her lips. How could she? Before Randall she had never had a serious boyfriend her entire life—let alone someone as gorgeous as Randall notice she was alive.
“Isabella?” Randall questioned with an awkward chuckle and then glanced at his parents and potential in-laws. “You’re not going to leave me hanging here, are you?”
Isabella smiled; at least she tried anyway, and waited for the right words to come.
And waited.
And waited.
“Sweetheart?” Isabella’s father spoke up and touched his daughter’s elbow. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
“I think she’s in shock,” Randall injected with a nervous titter. “It’s not every day a woman gets a marriage proposal.”
Her parents joined Randall in his awkward laughter, giving Isabella sufficient time to break her silent trance.
“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s all so...unexpected. We’ve only been dating two months.”
“Well,” Randall’s stepmother, Eunice, piped up. “I, for one, thought Randall would never settle down.”
Embarrassment darkened Randall’s face. “Mother.”
“What? It’s true,” Eunice said and smiled. “And frankly, I don’t think he could have made a better choice.”
“Amen,” the other parents chorused and then clinked their champagne glasses together in a quick toast.
So they had all known he was going to propose.
Isabella’s face warmed beneath their open praises, but she couldn’t help but feel Ms. Eunice stretched the truth a bit—well, actually, quite a lot. Fact was, Randall Jarrett with his athletic, six-foot-three body and creamy, peanut-butter skin could have snagged any woman he wanted off looks alone. His wealth and ambition were bonuses.
What surprised Isabella was that he wanted her—a school-teased ugly duckling who’d survived her adolescence by burying her head in books. Before she knew it, she had sailed through high school without attending a single sporting event or prom. A late bloomer, she couldn’t even fill her paltry “B” cups until she was a freshman in college. But luckily, she finally found a home with Delta Phi Theta sorority, where brains were exalted more than beauty.
Still considered a plain Jane, Isabella couldn’t believe the direction her life shifted.
Randall, still on bended knee, held up his free hand. “We can’t celebrate just yet. I’m still waiting for an answer.”
“Well, of course she’ll marry you,” Katherine assured in her honeyed southern voice. “Isabella knows you two are a perfect match.”
Everyone murmured in agreement and glasses clinked all around. Again, Isabella noticed no one said anything about love.
“If it’s all the same,” Randall said. “I’d like to hear her answer.” His dark, almost black eyes bored into Isabella.
The table fell silent as Isabella swallowed the invisible lump in her throat while maintaining a synthetic smile. The war between love and common sense raged in both Isabella’s heart and mind, and on this night, this very important night, there was no clear winner.
After one last nervous glance around the table, Isabella took a deep breath and rode to Randall’s rescue. “Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.”
Both sets of parents erupted in cheer, while Randall plucked a diamond ring from its velvet box and slid it down her slim finger. Honestly, it was the prettiest shackle she’d ever seen.
The senator leaned over and wrapped an arm around her waist and planted a kiss against her left cheek.
“Baby girl, you’ve made me so proud.” He gave her a hearty shake and rewarded her with another kiss.
For the first time that night, Isabella’s smile was genuine. She lived to make her parents proud, and tonight they looked just as proud as when she’d graduated class valedictorian from high school and summa cum laude in both college and law school.
All her life Isabella had done what was expected of her and being the only daughter of a prominent senior senator, great things were indeed expected. After obtaining her law degree from Yale, she interned at the White House. There she met Randall, a straight-laced, ambitious attorney who’d swooped into her life with the speed of a locomotive and then disappeared just as quickly. Three years later, he popped up again while she hammered into tax law with Smith, Bryant and Smith, LLC.
Sure, she was dazzled by his attention. The man was exceedingly handsome and came from a powerful and wealthy family, qualities her parents approved.
However, after a few dates, when the newness of Randall wore off, Isabella realized there wasn’t much there. No sparks, no romance...no nothing. In fact, she suspected Randall was trying to construct an ideal power couple instead of searching for a true soul mate.
She suspected her father was doing the same.
Many times, she wondered what Randall saw in her. She wasn’t ugly, but she certainly wasn’t beautiful either. She’d seen pictures of Randall’s ex-girlfriends. They all looked as though they should’ve had long careers in Hollywood or on the runways of Milan.
Isabella had often thought that the only pretty thing about her was her name.
Her mood flip-flopped for the rest of the night and passed by in a blur. There were smiles, laughter and champagne—lots of
