The Prince and the Wedding Planner

“That’s the reason I’m leaving. I don’t want to fight anymore. It’s exhausting. And it hurts too much.” Bianca placed her makeup bag in her suitcase and then crossed it off her packing list. At this point, she had three suitcases. And, according to her lists, everything she would need was packed. It might look like a lot, but she would be working for a prince and she had no idea what she’d need to wear.

“I agree,” Gia said.

Bianca closed her full suitcase and then turned to her sister. “You agree with what? That we shouldn’t argue anymore? Or that I should leave?”

Gia sighed. “Really? You honestly think I want you to go?”

Bianca shrugged. “I don’t know. So much has been said. And...and what if I’m not a real Bartolini. What happens then?”

Gia pressed her hands to her hips. “What if I’m not a Bartolini?”

Bianca didn’t know what words to say to her sister. She couldn’t think of any words that would make this situation any better for any of them. They just had to wait it out.

“We’ll know soon.” Enzo started to pace.

Her brother was referring to the DNA tests they’d submitted last week. But they’d been warned it would be a while until they heard back. Until then, they would have to find a way to deal with the unknown.

“Not soon enough,” Bianca muttered.

Gia stepped up next to her sister. “Don’t give up on being a part of this family.”

“I won’t. You either.”

“I won’t.” And then they hugged. When they pulled back, Gia asked, “Do you want help getting these suitcases downstairs?”

“Sure—”

“Hey.” Enzo stopped in front of the window. “There’s a car here.” His gaze moved to the luggage. “I guess it’s for you.”

She was having the most trouble with him. Everything she said struck him the wrong way. She hoped the distance would help their relationship.

“Enzo, don’t just stand there,” Gia said. “Grab a suitcase.” She gestured to the largest piece.

He hesitated. Then with a sigh, he did as instructed. On the way downstairs, he said, “I don’t think you’re doing the right thing.”

“You never do.” Bianca moved to the front door, stopped and turned to face her siblings.

“I can’t believe you’re giving up on the estate,” Gia said.

“She won’t have any worries,” Enzo said quickly. “She’s working for a prince. She’ll be paid a fortune.”

Gia’s lips formed an O. “I didn’t think of that. This DNA stuff has me so distracted.”

The thing they didn’t know was that she was being paid very little. She’d negotiated for something more important—a national marketing campaign for her destination wedding service.

A heated discussion of the ramifications of Bianca’s actions on the contest ensued. Should the money she earned for the royal wedding be counted toward her total? Bianca settled the argument by voluntarily excluding the profit from the royal wedding.

But that wasn’t enough to bring peace to the family. The heated debate segued to the subject of whether the sibling without Bartolini blood should inherit. Bianca’s stomach turned. She was certain they were talking about her.

It all fit. The way she wasn’t like her siblings and taking part in the heritage laid out for them by their parents. She’d always felt like a square peg in a round hole—never measuring up in her parents’ eyes and always a mystery to her siblings.

Not able to stand the pain in their eyes, she said, “I can’t do this! This fighting, it’s not us. We never used to fight.”

Her brother and sister looked as though they’d been about to say something, but then lowered their gazes and nodded in agreement. It was then that she felt she had to say something—something important.

“I’ve got to go,” Bianca said, “but before I do, I want you both to know that no matter how this contest turns out or what the DNA says, we’re family. We’re all the family we have left. And...” Her voice faltered. She wasn’t used to talking about her feelings to her siblings. “I love you both.”

“Aww...” Gia’s eyes misted.