The Temporary Mrs. Marchetti

Maybe even carrying his baby...

Instead, Alice was going through the motions of bridal preparation knowing in her heart that her relationship with Cristiano was doomed for despair. If he’d wanted their relationship to be for ever then surely he would have said something by now?

She had spent every night with him since they’d come back from Italy. Their relationship had settled into a less combative one but was no less exciting. Every time he looked at her, she felt the rush of attraction course through her flesh. The dark glint in his eyes was enough to make her shudder with excitement.

Like this morning, for instance. He had given her that look and she had put aside her breakfast and made mad passionate love with him up against the kitchen bench. His touch was as magical as ever, in some ways even more intensely satisfying than in the past. Or maybe that was because Alice knew his touching of her was only temporary, that within a few months they would part and go their separate ways. The thought of it was heart-wrenching. How had it taken her this long to realise she loved him?

Or had she always loved him?

Was that why his proposal had been so threatening? She hadn’t been ready to admit to how she felt about him. She’d needed more time. More time to question the opinions she’d formed out of fear, not facts. Loving someone back then had felt like giving up a part of herself and never getting it back. But true love shouldn’t be like that, surely?

True love was supposed to build up, not destroy.

To heal and create harmony, not hurt and dissension.

‘Can I help you with anything?’ a shop assistant asked in the last bridal boutique Alice wandered into. ‘Oh, my goodness! You’re Alice Piper, the wedding make-up celebrity. You did my friend’s wedding make-up last year. Congratulations, by the way. Gosh, what an honour, you coming in here for your wedding dress. Let me show you around. Did you have a budget in mind?’

‘Erm... I’m just looking at the moment,’ Alice said, wondering how she could back out of the shop before the woman gave the paparazzi a heads up to boost her business. She wasn’t the best shopper under pressure as it was. She needed time to think. Time to reflect. The last thing she needed right now was the press showing up and flashing cameras and microphones in her face.

The woman frowned. ‘But aren’t you getting married, like, in a couple of weeks?’

Don’t remind me how close it is!

‘October first,’ Alice said, trying to ignore her thumping heartbeat and the beads of perspiration breaking out on her upper lip.

Cristiano had confirmed the details a few days ago. Their flights were booked, the staff notified at his grandmother’s villa to get the place ready for a small wedding party. It was all happening so quickly and yet she felt on the perimeter of it all, like an observer on the sidelines.

‘We can still get something made in time.’ The woman gave Alice an obsequious smile. ‘Especially for someone of your status. Nothing off the rack for Cristiano Marchetti’s bride, hey? How about we look at some designs?’ She whipped out a bridal magazine and fanned the pages open. ‘White? Cream? Lace? Satin? Organza?’

Alice swallowed a ropey knot of panic. So many dresses... Who knew there were so many shades of white and cream? So many designs. So many decisions to make. So little time. How did brides do this without having a meltdown? No wonder so many of them got the Bridezilla tag.

The boutique was suddenly too hot, too stuffy, as if someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. Her head was in a vice, the pressure mounting until it felt as if her brain were going to explode through her skull. She swayed on her feet, her vision blurring. The walls were buckling, closing in on her. Nausea churned in her stomach and then climbed up her throat on sticky claws.

‘Are you all right?’ The shop assistant grasped Alice by the arm. ‘Here, sit down and put your head between your knees.’

Alice sank to the velvet-covered chair and lowered her head to her lap. She was vaguely aware of the shop assistant talking to someone on the phone and then a glass of water being handed to her. She sat up to take a few sips but the room was still spinning.

The woman took the glass from her. ‘I’ve called an ambulance. They should be here soon.’

Alice looked up at her in alarm, her heart hammering like a drummer on crack. ‘I don’t need an ambulance.’

There was the sound of a siren screaming outside. It echoed the silent scream

inside Alice’s head. No-o-o-o-o!

‘Too late,’ the woman said. ‘Here, give me your phone. I’ll call your fiancé for you.’

Alice clutched her bag against her body as if it contained the Crown Jewels. ‘It’s all right—I’ll call him. I don’t want him to panic over nothing.’

The woman tottered away to greet the paramedics coming through the door. ‘She’s over there. She nearly fainted. She was talking to me as good as anything and then she went as white as that dress in the window. I reckon she’s pregnant. I was exactly the same when I had my daughters.’

Shoot me now.

* * *

Cristiano had finished with his meeting with the architectural firm he’d employed to do the designs for the makeover of his Chelsea building so decided to call in at Alice’s salon to see if she was finished for the day. He could have called or texted her, but he knew she kept her phone on silent when at work and sometimes forgot to unmute it. Besides, he liked seeing her in her work environment. She was always so professional but he got a kick out of knowing that behind that cool and composed façade and that neat little uniform was a feisty and passionate woman who came apart in his arms.

But when he walked into the salon Meghan, her assistant, was in a flustered state.