The Secret to Marrying Marchesi

Nicole looked at him for a moment, her expression strange. ‘Would you...hold her?’ she asked quietly, looking up briefly to where the journalist sat near them, taking notes and preparing for their interview. Anna might not be featuring in the photo shoot—both Nicole and Rigo had been clear about that—but even behind the scenes they were on show.

Rigo cleared his throat, nodding as casually as he could before accepting the pink bundle into his arms. He probably wasn’t holding her correctly, he thought suddenly. He looked to Nicole, but she was already sitting on the stool with her eyes closed as the make-up woman deftly swept a brush over her cheeks.

He looked back down at the child. She sat facing away from him, looking towards the window. He hadn’t been around babies much in his lifetime—not at all, really. She shifted her weight, almost jumping off his lap as a bird flew down to land on the balcony outside. Her excitement was instantaneous, and her features lit up with glee as she pointed one chubby finger towards the creature.

Rigo smiled. He couldn’t help it. Her laughter was infectious, just like her mother’s.

He stood up, walking closer to the window and holding her tight against his chest. She sat relaxed in his arms, her attention entirely focused on the creature pecking at the moss on the balcony ledge.

A bright flash drowned them both in sudden blinding light. Anna’s tiny features scrunched up with surprise before she let out a piercing wail. The cameraman stood guiltily a few feet away. Rigo felt the sudden urge to punch the man full force in the face. He controlled himself, not shouting at the oaf for fear of upsetting the baby further.

He looked across the room to Nicole, silently begging her to help. Anna was inconsolable now.

Nicole stood swiftly, crossing the room to take Anna into her arms. The child was instantly soothed, looking briefly up at him with a mixture of fear and recrimination. He took the chance to retreat, speaking sternly to the cameraman so that they didn’t have a repeat incident and making sure he deleted the photo from his camera.

As the director announced that they were all set Nicole handed the child over to the nanny for her nap. The twenty-minute photo session drained them, with all the forced poses and orders to smile on cue. They took a few romantic ‘couple’ shots before beginning the interview.

Rigo kept his arm slung around Nicole’s shoulders on the back of the sofa. They needed to seem at ease with each other, but she was as tense as an ironing board. When he’d leaned over to lay a kiss on her lips at the photographer’s suggestion he might as well have kissed a block of ice.

‘So let’s start with what exactly are the boundaries for the big day?’

The female journalist’s husky Scottish accent interrupted the tense silence in the aftermath of the disastrous photo shoot. She placed a digital recorder on the futon between them, its red light blinking.

Rigo spoke, his answers all pre-rehearsed. ‘We expect discretion at all times, with only a prearranged time slot for photographs.’

The woman nodded, ticking a box on her list. ‘Will we be allowed access to the bride as she prepares? We would love to get some candid shots of all aspects of the day.’

‘No,’ Nicole said suddenly. ‘I mean...I don’t think I would be comfortable with that.’

Rigo looked at her pointedly, laying his hand gently on her thigh. ‘What my beautiful fiancée means to say is that she’ll likely be too nervous for that on the day.’

The journalist narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed at the answer. She flipped through some of the photographs from the engagement party the night before, pausing on one.

She looked up, a gleam appearing in her eyes. ‘Your mother wasn’t invited to the party last night, Nicole?’ she asked in her simpering voice. ‘Why was that?’

‘She was invited. There was simply a mix-up with the list,’ Rigo said quickly.

‘And yet these photos clearly show Nicole and Goldie having what looks like a heated argument.’ She raised her brow.

Rigo looked to Nicole, noticing the sudden look of horror on her face. She masked it quickly, taking a sip from her glass of lemon water.

‘There was no argument, Diane. Move on, please,’ she said harshly.

Rigo frowned at Nicole’s use of the woman’s first name. He had noticed the immediate tensing in Nicole when they had been introduced to the woman who would write their article, but he had put it down to nerves. Now, looking at the two women staring each other down, he wasn’t so sure.

‘From what I hear, you should be thanking your mother. Not arguing with her.’ The woman continued to pout in that same ridiculous way, staring at Nicole like an eagle watching her prey.