A Deal Before the Altar

‘I have already been married....’ Georgina began, resenting the need to explain anything, but Señora Santana put up her hand as if to tell her to stop.

‘Not a problem. Señor Ramirez has explained,’ she said, and walked behind the rail of dresses to another which Georgina hadn’t noticed.

Just what had Santos explained? Curiosity piqued, she followed and drew in a breath of awe. These dresses were beautiful. Bold colours of red, green and midnight-blue had been added to frills or even completely forming a bodice.

Georgina couldn’t help but smile. These were more like it. A sweet, innocent bride was not the image she was going for. She trailed her fingers over the silk and chiffon. But one dress in particular caught her attention.

She took the dress from the rail and held it against her. It was perfect. It was everything, and more, that she could want this dress to be.

‘Perfecto.’ Señora Santana smiled and urged Georgina to try it on.

Caught up in the moment, she relished the feel of silk and chiffon against her skin and looked at her image in the mirror. The dress fitted perfectly. As if it had been made for her. She slipped her foot into a dainty strappy sandal, feeling more and more like Cinderella every moment.

‘You will need a veil.’

‘No,’ Georgina replied quickly, and glanced in the mirror at the other lady. ‘No veil,’ she said more gently, and smiled. She hadn’t had a veil for her first wedding—hadn’t even had a dress—so she saw no need to go over the top now. Especially as it was, once more, a marriage of convenience.

Señora Santana shrugged. ‘Ah, I have the perfect alternative. You will see. But now we choose a dress for dinner. No?’

No was just what Georgina wanted to say. She’d gone along with the wedding dress, knowing it was part of the whole plan and necessary. Photos would almost certainly end up in the glossy magazines, whether she wanted them there or not. But a dress for this evening wasn’t necessary. At least not one of this quality.

‘No, the wedding dress is enough.’

The woman’s eyes widened. ‘But Señor Ramirez insisted. You must choose one.’

* * *

Finally Señora Santana’s insistence had worn Georgina down and she’d selected a classic black dress, which now lay on her bed. The hours had just disappeared whilst she was trying dresses on, leaving very little time before she was to meet Santos. Now, after a quick shower, she dried her hair and applied make-up.

Why was she feeling nervous about seeing Santos again? She looked at her watch. Five minutes to seven. He would be waiting on the terrace very soon. She looked again at the dress, feeling almost like a sacrificial lamb.

But wasn’t that exactly what she was?

For her sister’s happiness she’d once again taken on a role she didn’t want. Marrying Richard had been to put Emma through school and a roof over their heads. It had been his suggestion, and even to this day she couldn’t believe a man had done that for her. She’d been on tenterhooks during all the three years they were married, just waiting for him to leave her. But she’d never expected him to leave her the way he had. As a widow. She’d known he was ill—but not that ill.

With a heavy heart she picked up the dress, stepped into it. For a moment the zip eluded her and it took several minutes of contortions to pull it up. Flustered by her efforts, she slipped on the new pair of shoes insisted upon by Señora Santana and left the bedroom, her heels sounding loud on the marble.

CHAPTER FIVE

SANTOS WAS LOOKING out at the sea, dressed in a dark suit, as she approached the balcony. When he turned and his gaze met hers her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t right that a man could be so sexy. The cloth of his suit had been cut with precision, emphasising his broad shoulders and strong thighs to perfection.

She swallowed hard, desperate to calm her racing heartbeat. If she carried on like this there wouldn’t be any need for pretence. Her attraction to him was becoming stronger, and if he turned on the charm as he had at the party she’d be lost. Worse still, if he kissed her again she didn’t think she’d be able to resist him.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said, his voice deep, with a husky edge to it. ‘Exactly what I had in mind.’

Well, if that didn’t serve as a reminder that it was all an act, then nothing would.

‘I’m glad it meets with your approval,’ she said tartly and, desperate to hide her confusion, walked past him to the table, selecting a drink from those prepared. Anger fizzed in her veins at the thought of the way he made her feel: light-headed and soft one minute, then short and sharp the next. In a bid to rein in her rising and very mixed emotions she all but downed her drink in one go.