She walked forward and touched a cold dumb bell. “So where will we sleep?”
“Come, I’ll show you.”
The last two bedrooms had been converted into one master suite, complete with giant fireplace, luxurious royal blue carpet, and twin dressing rooms. But what thrilled Belle most was the brand new four-poster bed, similar to the one they’d slept on in Althea, with its sheer curtains, countless pillows, and a similar blue-and-gold throw gracing the enormous bed.
“Oh, Nick, it’s beautiful,” she exclaimed, turning full circle in the room.
He slid his arms around her, sealed her lips with a lingering kiss, before murmuring, “Only beautiful things will do for my beautiful wife.” He continued to kiss her until they heard Bertrand’s discreet knock.
“Lunch will be served in an hour. And then, Madame, if you please, I will go over the menu for tomorrow’s dinner party with you.” The butler left.
She turned to Nick. “You organized a dinner party without telling me?”
A tinge of color splashed his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I got a little ahead of myself. In my defense, I put this in place because I wanted your parents and friends to see you’re all right.”
“I thought we’d done that with press conference?”
“Sweetheart, I want to celebrate the rebirth of our marriage, show everyone we’re back together. I’ll understand if you want to cancel until after we’ve dealt with Mwana, but I thought you’d also want to celebrate our special occasion.”
“Special occasion?” she asked, puzzled.
He pulled her closer. “Have you forgotten what day tomorrow is?”
Frowning, she started to shake her head, but then the date burst through her brain like an exploding firework.
“Oh, my God, Nick, I can’t believe I did!” Deep chagrin tinged her voice.
“With everything that’s gone on lately, I don’t blame you for forgetting we will be married exactly one year tomorrow.”
“But how could I?” Tears clouded her eyes. Her wedding day had been the happiest day of her life.
“You probably buried it subconsciously because our marriage didn’t turn out the way you’d envisioned it. And for that, I’m sorry.” Nick brushed away a tear from her cheek. “It’s okay, yineka mou. I won’t hold it against you. But we need to decide whether we’re going ahead with the party or not. According to Bertrand, the RSVPs have been coming in thick and fast.”
“Oh, no. How many people did you invite?”
“Only those important to us. And one or two business associates.” The poker face he tried to adopt didn’t pass muster.
“Nick! That’s about half of London.”
A very Greek shrug manifested itself as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Can you blame me for wanting to show off my beautiful wife to the world?”
Ignoring her palpitating heart she said, “Not normally, but I think tomorrow is a special day, a day for us, and I’d like to keep it intimate, if you don’t mind.”
“And this will make you happy?” he asked, an intent look in his eyes.
Feeling the tears threaten again, she nodded. “Then I will make it so.”
“Won’t they be upset?”
“They know what you’ve been through. I’ll smooth things over. I suspect Jameson will be pleased, too, for security reasons.”
In the end, they settled for a modest guest list of twenty-five, and she felt relieved when she learned Nick, through Bertrand, had already set events in motion. Dealing with floral arrangements and extensive menus had never been her forte.
While Bertrand handled the caterers and florists, she wrestled with what dress to choose from the twelve her stylist had delivered that morning. When she found out Nick had arranged for her to visit a beauty spa, she felt secretly grateful. Her hair had grown wild and unkempt in the last two months. A simple solution would have been to scrape it all up for the evening, but she didn’t put it past Nick, who loved her hair down, to put a cog in that plan.
She was picking matching jewelry for her final three dress choices when she heard Bertrand’s raised voice. She went into the kitchen where he was just hanging up the phone.”
“Is everything all right?”