Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella

At that moment the boat made a thud sound and came to a halt. Skye broke out of her trance, a little relieved at the interruption. There had been a look in Lazaro’s eyes that had made her insides flutter far too dangerously.

They’d arrived at one of the grand palazzo buildings fronting onto the canal. Standing on its own, it dwarfed the buildings on either side, windows gleaming. A balcony ran the length of the building on the first floor. It was breathtaking.

They were helped out of the boat and up the steps into the building. Marble floors and Murano chandeliers decorated the reception area. It was deliciously cool inside.

A man in a suit approached, greeting Lazaro effusively in Italian. Lazaro smoothly replied, also in Italian. Skye wondered how he’d become so fluent.

The man introduced himself to Skye as the manager of the hotel and led them over to an elevator. The inside was as elegant as the reception area, with hundreds of mirrors in its gold-panelled walls. Skye avoided her reflection, not wanting to see how bedraggled she must look.

Then she thought of something, and asked Lazaro suspiciously, ‘Do you own this hotel too?’

He leaned back against one of the walls of mirrors, hands in his pockets. Supremely at home in this rarefied atmosphere in spite of his background. ‘No.’ His mouth twitched. ‘But I am in talks to acquire it—which is why we’re here. I’m finalising some details before I sign the contracts.’

Skye was about to say oh but she clamped her mouth shut, trying not to be intimidated at the sheer level of Lazaro’s wealth. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what a palazzo on the Grand Canal in Venice was worth.

The lift doors opened then, and they stepped out and into the most opulent room Skye had ever been in.

The parquet floor was covered with exquisite oriental rugs. There was chinoiserie wallpaper on the walls. More Murano chandeliers and elaborate frescoes on the gilded ceiling. Three huge windows opened out onto the balcony which overlooked the canal.

She went over and stood on it, watching the sunlight bounce off the canal and the waves created by the boats and activity.

‘It’s so beautiful... I’ve never seen anything like it.’

Lazaro stood beside her. ‘Yes...it’s pretty spectacular.’

Skye tore her gaze from the view to look at him. ‘Why do you want to buy it?’

He shrugged lightly. ‘Because I can. Because it’ll enhance my portfolio.’

He turned and went back into the room. It was dotted with sleek furniture in a more modern style than the room, but perversely it fitted. Low glass coffee tables, cream couches. Modern art and artefacts.

He went to a drinks tray and looked back at her. ‘Would you like some juice or water?’

She came into the room. ‘Sparkling water, please.’ She kicked off her shoes and gave a groan of relief, slipping off her coat before sinking down onto one of the couches, tucking her legs underneath her.

Lazaro handed her a glass and she took a sip. He had what looked like a tumbler of whisky in his hand. He sat down at the other end of the couch, resting an arm across it. The movement tightened his shirt across his chest, and instantly Skye wanted to undo his buttons and spread the material apart so she could look at him. And not just look at him.

Her face burning, she took another gulp of water.

Pregnancy hormones.

‘You’re really not that impressed, are you?’

Skye looked at Lazaro, whose gaze was narrowed on her hot face. ‘Impressed by what?’

He waved a hand. ‘The fact that I’m about to become the owner of one of Venice’s most celebrated and oldest palazzos.’

Skye looked at him. ‘When I lived here with my mother needless to say we were in one of the less salubrious areas, far away from the canal. I used to dream of travelling down the canal by boat and stepping into one of these buildings as if I owned it... But that was just a fantasy. It doesn’t really matter to me either way. It’s enough for me to be here and experience it.’

Lazaro leant forward. ‘But that’s the thing—it’s not a fantasy. It’s your reality now.’

It hit Skye in that moment how different her life would be.

There was a knock on the door and the hotel manager appeared again to check that everything was all right. A porter was behind him with their bags. Skye saw them being taken into what she presumed was the bedroom.

She stood up as the manager put down a pile of papers on a round table and said, ‘The evening editions have just come in with news of your wedding. Many congratulations, Señora Sanchez.’

She murmured her thanks as Lazaro walked him to the door. The porter left too. Skye was drawn to the papers, even though she dreaded seeing what they had to say about her marrying the man whose engagement she’d ruined so publicly.