The Secret to Marrying Marchesi

‘I’ll take your silence as an apology,’ Rigo drawled on the other end of the line. ‘Is there anything else you would like to accuse me of this morning, or will that be all?’

‘No, that was it,’ she said quickly, her cheeks burning. ‘I’m sorry for presuming that you thought—’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ He cut across her, and the sound of voices became louder in the background. ‘I have to go, but make sure you are ready at seven this evening.’

‘Ready? For what?’ She frowned.

‘We’re going to dinner.’

With that the call ended, and Nicole looked unbelieving at the device in her hand. He had just demanded she be ready at a certain hour—was that how this arrangement was going to go?

Alberto coughed pointedly in the doorway and she rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, all right. I’ll be in in a moment.’

She handed him his phone and breathed a sigh of relief once she was left alone in the kitchen for the first time. Anna sat in her high chair, happily sucking on a piece of buttered toast and watching her intently.

‘What on earth have I got us into, baby girl?’ she whispered, brushing a tendril of dark hair behind her daughter’s ear.

Anna’s answering gurgle was completely incoherent, as expected, and yet it made her smile. She knew that the key to getting through this wedding alive was to focus on her daughter every step of the way and put her own needs last.

If only her future husband didn’t seem so intent on making everything so difficult.

* * *

‘Isn’t this a little flamboyant?’ Nicole’s eyes widened as she took in the gilded sign above the restaurant door. ‘We could have spoken in private in the apartment just as easily.’

‘The food is good here, and we need to be seen in public.’ He guided her inside, speaking briefly to the hostess and angling them both slightly away from the line of guests at the door.

It shouldn’t surprise her that a man with Rigo’s taste and reputation would choose to take her to the most exclusive restaurant in Paris. The two-hundred-year-old building was situated right next to the gardens of the Palais Royal and was one of the finest Michelin-starred establishments the city had to offer.

The hostess ushered them to a private dining room and introduced them to their own personal maître d’ for the evening.

The restaurant was one of the few in Paris that she had never eaten in before. The waiting list was impossibly long and she’d only ever visited before on short trips. There was no way Rigo could have got in at such short notice, even if he was a billionaire. Unless he’d already had this table reserved for tonight...for dinner with someone else. The thought did strange things to her stomach.

Biting her lip, she focused on the stunning decor that surrounded them as the waiter laid down their napkins and filled their crystal glasses with iced water. Ornate golden mirrors lined the walls of the dining room and neoclassical frescoes adorned the ceiling along with stucco garlands and roses.

‘I’ll admit I’ve become a little jaded by gourmet food of late, but Le Chef Martin is one of the best in Paris.’

Rigo gestured for Nicole to peruse the menu, and in the end they agreed on a menu plaisir—a bespoke sample menu designed by the chef himself.

Nicole allowed her glass to be filled with a fragrant golden wine. She was aware of her empty stomach and limited herself to only one small sip, feeling the smooth liquid warm her insides instantly.

‘We will be throwing an engagement party in three days.’ His deep voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘The process is going to be very fast and intense, so my PR team will want to brief you about interacting with the press.’

Nicole gulped. ‘Is there really a need for all this fanfare? It seems to make more sense for an arrangement like this to take place in an office or something.’

‘A large wedding is expected in my family. Anything to the contrary would draw suspicion,’ he said, making it clear that the issue was not open for discussion. ‘We will be married at an exclusive secret location on the first of the month.’

‘That’s less than three weeks away.’ She felt her fingers tighten on her wine glass. This was all of a sudden becoming so much more than the simple solution she had agreed to.

‘Why the frown? You will be the star of your very own fairy tale, Nicole. I had thought you would be jumping for joy.’

‘Because I’m so fame hungry, right?’ Her temper threatened to flare but she curbed it, taking a small sip of wine. ‘If it inflates your ego to think I’m overjoyed to be marrying you, then by all means please continue.’