Chapter 3

The considerable hype surrounding their courtship left the public with little to no doubt about what it was leading to.

After their very public kiss in the hotel”s gigantic ballroom, filled with the elite of society, followed by several prominent dates—in fine restaurants, the ballet, the opera, and a showing at one of Jackson Colby’s galleries—they were identified as a couple.

So, it was no surprise to the same public and the avid curiosity of the press when their engagement was announced.

The same gossip mongers who had been speculating on the relationship between the gorgeous and wealthy lawyer of the famed Hadley family and a particular wife of one of the senior partners were now focused on the romance blossoming between Marcel Hadley and the exquisite junior partner, Nikki Johnston.

Their engagement party was a lavish affair, taking place at the family manor with a few ‘close friends and acquaintances’ there to witness the ‘proposal.’

Now, the day had dawned for the wedding, after only three weeks of a whirlwind of dates and preparation for a ceremony that the press had predicted would be the wedding of the year.

Invitations to the event were sent to a selected and very fortunate three hundred people, with the press”s appearance limited to even fewer well-respected reporters.

The bride had not been at her house since the night before the wedding but was staying at the manor, where she would be ‘handled’ by the famous stylist Pierre, who had been flown in from Paris to take care of makeup and hair.

The dress was being kept a close secret, but the rumors were that it was a Romano original that had been hastily and tastefully put together under the watchful eyes of Monique Romano herself.

The bachelor’s party was held at the exclusive Elite Club, where the groom, his father, and his brother were members.

A conference room had been reserved for the event.

Excusing himself from the festivities, Marcel slid the open glass doors leading to the patio to take the phone call.

A very tearful Simone was on the line, her words twisting him into knots.

“It’s not too late,” she whispered hoarsely. For the past three weeks, they had not seen each other at all. Marcel had warned her that it would not be prudent for them to be seen together, and their communications had been relegated to a few abbreviated phone calls during the day.

“It is,” he told her tightly, walking along the wide tiled floor that led to the east of the club. From his vantage point, the view was spectacular. It was almost ten at night, and people splashing in the pool directly below him could be heard. It was the end of July, and he could feel the balmy breeze against his skin.

The moon was full, its silver light shimmering over the tops of trees that had been professionally trimmed just a few days ago. No speck of leaf or a strand of grass was out of place on the immaculate lawn. The scent of carefully tended roses spiked the air, filling it with nature’s perfume.

“And you are going to have to stop calling me.”

“I can’t,” she whispered brokenly. “I need you, Marcel, and you promised you would always be there for me.”

“Not as your lover.” Pacing back to the opposite side of the patio, he lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck to relieve the tension.

He had spent time with Nikki and reluctantly found himself drawn to her. She was intriguing, irreverent, and painfully blunt. She had wrung laughter from him while they were seated at their table at the restaurants they had gone to.

He had been prepared to hate her on principle, but she was turning out to be someone he had started to like - he shook his head. Perhaps it was too tame a word, and he was not prepared to exchange it for something else, at least not yet.

She made him laugh, and whenever she was discussing her clients, she did it in such a way that made the wealthy”s ludicrous and sometimes unreasonable demands seem petty and amusing.

She was not afraid of anyone or anything. He had seen the way she handled herself during meetings. She was not intimidated, not even by his father, who tended to come across as forceful.

The only thing that stopped him from being wholly captivated was that she was marrying for what his family offered her and the irritating and troubling reminder that his father had forced him into marriage.

Those two things would forever deter them from having a romance or a regular marriage.

“Marcel?”

He had been so mired in thought that he had forgotten the woman on the line.

“I apologize,” he said perfunctory, preparing to wrap up the conversation. “I will be there for you as a friend, but as of tomorrow, we will both be married. Goodnight, Simone.” Hanging up from her, he turned off the phone and shoved it into the pocket of his khaki pants.

He was leaning on the railing, staring at the ripples of the dark blue water of the pool, when he heard the glass doors being pulled open. Realizing that his peace was about to end, he turned in readiness to return when he saw his brother coming forward with two glasses of brandy.

“You are missing your bachelor’s party.” Matthew handed him the glass and stood beside him, his back to the railing.

“I had to take a call.”

His brother sent him a speculative look. “Let me guess, Simone is hoping to persuade you to jilt your bride at the altar.”

“Something like that.” Marcel lifted the drink to his lips and took a few sips. “Did Dad send you out here to check on me? Is he afraid that I am going to bolt?”

“Something like that.” Matthew parroted his phrase with a smile. “Were you thinking of doing so?”

“No. I am getting married tomorrow, whether I like it or not.” A cynical smile twisted his lips. “It might not be so bad.”

“It might not be. She is exquisitely beautiful.”

“And she is marrying me for my money.” He shrugged. “At least we both know the truth of the entire thing. I am marrying her to quell the vicious rumors about me and Simone, and she is doing it so that her mother gets to be in the finest nursing home money can buy.”

Matthew turned around to face him. “You might end up falling for her.”

“No.” He shook his head decisively. “Too many odds are against us. She never liked me in the first place. I overheard her telling someone that I was arrogant and entitled.”

“Aren’t you?” Matthew cocked a brow at him.

Ignoring the teasing inflection in his brother’s tone, Marcel added. “And I think she is opinionated and too ambitious.”

“Ambitious? Is that a character flaw?”

“I said ‘too ambitious. She has her eyes set on becoming a senior partner.”

“Nothing is wrong with that. She is a brilliant lawyer, and her strategies are excellent. The way she handled the Richardson’s merger is commendable.”

“She is career-driven,” Marcel argued.

“And you want someone plain and complaisant. She will never allow you to get away with anything.”

Marcel shrugged, taking another sip of his drink.

“Are you attracted to her?”

The blunt question caused him to almost spill his drink, and he studiously avoided his brother’s gaze.

“What the hell are you asking me that?”

Matthew hid a knowing grin. “Because you would have to be blind, gay, or out of your mind not to be.” Slapping his brother on the shoulder, he propelled him forward. “Let’s go back in before the old man sends out the search party,”

*****

Nikki did her best to try to enjoy the party. Wendy Hadley, Julia, and Grace had thrown together what looked like a well-planned affair to send her off into marriage. But her thoughts were disjointed and more than a little troubled.

She had gone to see her mother in her new facility today, and the magnificence and utter efficiency of the staff had reminded her how much money screamed and did so glaringly. Her mother had been assigned a well-appointed private room in delicate cream and gold decor resembling a five-star hotel room.

Nikki had studied the contract herself carefully and knew that the cost of the room and the services were exorbitant. Norma Johnston would get the best care and round-the-clock attention, with nurses and doctors looking out for her daily.

She had gone there with the foolish notion that her mother would be up to attending her wedding. Her mother was her only living relative, and she had wanted her to be there. But the doctors had advised her against it.

“Your mother is locked into her small world, I am afraid, and it would not be a good idea for her to get agitated. The change from the home she was transferred from left her extremely tired and confused, and she had to be heavily sedated to calm her down.”

Nikki had sat with her for a few minutes, hoping that she would open her eyes and suddenly recognize her only child. But that hope had shriveled and died a few minutes later.

Her mother had opened her eyes, eyes yes, but had failed to recognize her daughter. She had started to get agitated again, so much so that Nikki had to press the bell. Two nurses had rushed in and administered care. It was heartbreaking to see. She had left shortly after and returned to the house she had known since childhood.

Everything was packed and sent to the townhouse, which she would share with Marcel, but she needed to be familiar with it.

She was not going to sell it, at least not yet. She was in love with Marcel Hadley but was smart enough to realize he was being forced into this union. She was hoping that with proximity, he would get to know and then get to love her. But for now, they would be two strangers living in the same space.

Stirring herself from her painful thoughts, she smiled as Wendy came to sit next to her. The bridal shower was being held in the grand salon, a beautiful and homely cream and blue room with a piano in one corner and mountains of plush chairs and sofas strewn around the room.

She had opened the various gifts and responded appropriately to the outrageous and scandalous underwear, peignoirs, teddies, and slinky see-through robes. The finger foods had been devoured, and she was now on the fourth bottle of champagne.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Wendy asked her softly, her eyes staring at her closely like Marcel’s.

Nikki was no stranger to Wendy Hadley. The woman was not a lawyer but was on several charitable committees that required her to be at the firm several times a week. And she was very likable.

“I miss my mother.” Nikki found herself admitting. Picking up the forgotten glass of champagne, she took a fortified sip. “I always envisioned her being at my wedding.”“Which is only natural.” Wendy commiserated.

She liked the girl a lot and secretly and fervently hoped that her son would wake up and realize she was the one for him. Nikki was beautiful, knowledgeable, and was not bowled over by wealth, and after James had told her the young woman was in love with Marcel, it had gained her even more admiration.

Reaching for Nikki’s free hand, she squeezed. “I am here. I know I am not a substitute for your dear mother, but I am here if you just need to talk.”

Nikki smiled at her. “I will keep that in mind.”

“Good.” Patting her hand, she gestured to the other gifts that had not yet opened. “Let’s go and see what those are.”

*****

In his townhouse, the following day at precisely nine-thirty, Marcel Hadley stared at his reflection in his gold and tan bathroom mirror and wondered if his shave was close enough.

Passing a hand over his jaw, he shook his head at the absurdity of his thoughts. He was marrying a woman he did not love, so what the hell should it matter about the closeness of his shave?

He had been given no choice, which was gnawing at him. His bride had been chosen for him. He was thirty years old and should have been allowed to choose. An image of a laughing Nikki flashed through his mind, and he went still. It had been some time last week while they were at the gallery opening.

They had been studying a particularly complex painting by Jackson when she noticed out of the corner of her eye, a chubby woman who had managed to pour her curves into an utterly inappropriate figure-hugging dress, making fast work of stuffing canapes, foie gras, and what looked like ice cold shrimps into her oversized purse while watching furtively if she was being noticed.

Nikki had turned around and aimed her dark brown eyes at the unfortunate woman. Grabbing his arm to get his attention, she nodded at the woman and whispered something amusing in his ear that had him laughing so hard that he had to turn away to hide his mirth.

A smile touched his lips as he recalled the scene. He then watched in fascination as Nikki strolled to the refreshment table to ask the woman if she needed a doggie bag. He then asked if she was on the point of starvation.

Stepping back from the mirror, he squared his broad shoulders and studied his image in the immaculately styled ash gray suit with the shell pink shirt. Lifting a hand, he straightened the pink rose, tucked it into the lapel, and turned away from the mirror as his brother entered the bedroom.

“It’s time,” he said solemnly.

Matthew was similarly dressed in a superb ash-gray suit, but his shirt was a pale baby blue. He, too, had a pale pink rose tucked into the lapel of his jacket.

“Let’s get this over with,” Marcel said curtly.

*****

The Catholic church in the middle of the large ten acres of land, covered with lush green grass, towering maple and oak trees, and a gentle stream bubbling over smooth stones, had been where the Hadley’s had been attending services for generations.

The lovely stained-glass windows, rising majestically towards the arched ceilings, sent the sunlight filtering through and touching the many guests seated quietly as they listened to the gentle swell of the orchestra playing.

Marcel was staring right in front of him. Minutes before, he had talked himself into a surreal calm that had his heart beating steadily inside his chest. He had caught a glimpse of Peter and Simone and had quickly looked away from the haunting expression on her lovely face.

Peter was a senior partner, so it was natural for him to be in attendance. And so was his wife. Marcel did not want to think about what Simone was going through. He could not afford to think about it.

Mentally shaking his head, he focused on the arched doorway as the music change indicated that the bride was making her way in.

The guests were asked to stand, and they simultaneously rose and turned towards the doorway. Marcel”s fingers curled into his palms as shock and baffled pride swept through his entire body. He was barely able to conceal the gasp along with the rest of the guests as they caught their first glimpse of the bride.

Her face was glowing, the caramel face clearly defined, the curves of her cheekbones sculpted, the winged eyebrows, the dark brown eyes highlighted by the nude eyeshadows on her lids. Her hair was a mass of curls, dark brown in places and streaked honey blonde leading to the tips, disappearing past her shoulders.

The dress was a shimmering champagne silk overlaid with the finest hand-stitched lace. It hugged her small breasts and cinched in to make her waist seem impossibly small. The skirt was A-line and slithered down her hips and straight to her ankles. The sleeve barely covered her arms, and she wore gloves up to her elbows.

A wispy, thin veil was placed on her head, held in place by a stunning diamond barrette. She walked with a sloping gazelle-like grace that made her look like she was dancing.

He had no idea he had been holding his breath until Matthew uttered a strangled sound of disbelief.

Forcing himself to remain where he was and reminding himself of why he was here in the first place and what she was getting out of it, he waited until she stood in front of him.

His father released her arm and stepped back, but he had to steel himself not to react when she looked at him and smiled, her nude-colored lipstick against her dazzling white teeth.

He barely nodded, took her hand, and turned it towards the priest.

*****

“She is something else, isn’t she?” The admiration in Jackson’s voice could not be mistaken.

The ceremony was over, and they were on the lush lawns of the manor where Marcel had grown up. The lawn was dotted with chairs, but the guests were milling around, drinking champagne and enjoying the delectable feasts being served for the past half an hour.

The towering pink champagne cake had been cut, and their first dance as husband and wife had been dispensed with.

She had thrown her bouquet of peonies, baby’s breath, and orchids to the single ladies in the crowd, and he had been egged on to remove her garter with his teeth, something he had not done.

Instead, he had staved off the comments by saying that he was the only one who was supposed to see his wife’s thighs. When he looked around, it was to realize that both Peter and Simone had already left, which was a relief.

Now, his wife had kicked off her strappy sandals and was dancing to a reggae beat. She had moves and a vast number of admirers.

“Where is the honeymoon?” Jackson asked when his friend did not comment.

“A villa in Santorini.”

“How long?”

“A week. We are both busy lawyers and have cases pending,” he explained, his eyes on the woman who now had his name. Of course, a prenup had been signed, and she had not balked as she signed her name with a flourish after reading the legal document.

“You don’t look like a man who just tied the knot.”

“What do you mean?” He dragged his eyes from his wife’s gyrating body and stared at his friend.

“You look as if you just made a mistake.”

“I think I did,” he said with a shrug.

“Does it have anything to do with the lovely Simone?” Jackson asked with a snort. “I must tell you, man, the rumors were getting vicious.”

“She needs me,” he said simply.

“And Nikki doesn’t?”

“Look at her.” Marcel waved the hand holding the drink he had been nursing for the past few minutes. “Does it look as if she needs anyone?”

“That’s a good thing, and I have always found independent women a distinct attraction. What I never liked was another man’s wife.”

Marcel looked away from his friend’s direct gaze. “Neither did I. Simone told me they were separated and on the verge of getting a divorce.”

“And you believed her.” Jackson snorted as he looked for his wife. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched the woman who had asked him for a donation of his sperm and then bowled him over until he became tied up in knots over her. As if she realized he was looking at her, she lifted her head and sent him a smile that made him feel weak.

“Enjoy your honeymoon.”