The Secret to Marrying Marchesi

Maybe she was just like her mother.

The thought actually stopped her breathing for a moment. Could that be it? Was she that person who thought the entire world was against her when really she was exactly what they made her out to be?

The elevator arrived with a ping and she hastily stepped inside. The doors began to slide closed, only to be stopped suddenly.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Rigo’s voice was low, his eyes narrowed in question as he moved his shoulder against the elevator door and effectively blocked her escape.

‘I don’t know...’ Nicole breathed. ‘I just needed to get out of there.’

‘There was no need to hightail it across the ballroom, drawing everyone’s attention.’

Nicole groaned inwardly. Of course everyone would have noticed. They were probably all speculating on what the latest drama was. She leaned her head back against the solid marble wall of the elevator. Steeling herself for what she knew had to come next.

‘Nicole...?’ he said, his voice demanding an answer.

‘I can’t marry you.’ She forced herself to look him in the eyes as his gaze darkened. ‘I can’t go ahead with this wedding.’

He was completely silent, allowing his gaze to sweep over her features momentarily before he stepped forward into the lift and let the doors swing shut behind him.

She straightened up to her full height, feeling cornered. ‘I’m serious, Rigo.’

‘I heard you.’ He reached behind her to the panel of lights on the wall, tapping a button at the very top. A voice came from the speaker and Rigo replied in fluent French, looking briefly up at the security camera in the corner. The lift shuddered to life and began moving steadily upwards.

‘Where are we going?’ Nicole asked, holding on to the railing as they continued to rise higher and higher towards the top of the hotel.

‘Somewhere we can talk alone.’

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a corridor with three separate double doors with gold plaques bearing the names of past French presidents.

Nicole followed closely behind Rigo, her feet aching in her high heels, as he led her through the first door. The suite inside was enormous, with stylish dove-grey walls and vaulted ceilings. The antique mahogany furniture looked decades old, with clawed feet and polished silver fittings.

‘Do they normally allow you to use the most expensive suite in the hotel for private discussions?’

‘They let me do whatever I want.’ Rigo shrugged.

‘I’d say that kind of freedom is nice.’ She bit her lip, feeling the emotions of the past few days threaten to catch up with her.

‘We’re alone now. So talk.’

Rigo leaned against the side of a dining table, watching her with an intensity that made her insides quake. Where did she even begin to tell him what was going on in her mind right now? All she knew was that her entire being was telling her to run as fast as she could—away from this hotel, their ridiculous plan. Him.

She pressed a hand to her chest, turning away from his scrutiny in the pretence of exploring the suite further. She ran her hand along the ornate back of one of the chairs—another antique, by the looks of it.

The dining table had to be at least ten feet long, she mused. And the room ended in a wall of floor-to-ceiling French windows that led out onto the most spectacular terraced garden. She turned the handle, feeling the cold night air fill her lungs. She could finally take a breath and not feel as if she was drowning.

As she moved out onto the terrace she heard him follow behind her. He wasn’t talking, and for that she supposed she should be thankful. She needed to relax if she had any hope of going back to the party. Of course she would go back. She wasn’t so cruel as to embarrass him by jilting him in public the way he had rejected her.

The distant memory of him laughing at her in that nightclub threatened the edges of her consciousness. But she didn’t believe in giving an eye for an eye, no matter the extent of someone’s misdeeds.

‘This view is breathtaking.’

She cleared her mind, leaning against the stone wall to peer down at the rooftops of Paris far below. It was like another world up here—so quiet and peaceful. She could stay here forever, just counting the lights on the horizon. If she moved forward just an inch she would be able to see the street where Rigo’s apartment was. She tilted her hips, leaning forward just a little more.

Warm, muscular hands settled on her shoulders, pulling her back from the ledge. She could feel Rigo’s breath behind her, warm against her bare skin.

‘I can admire the view from a distance, but I draw the line at leaning over the edge.’

His voice was like dark chocolate on her frayed senses. His hands still pressed against her bare skin.