‘There, I think you’re set.’
Maisie refocused and examined the chic pinned-up hairstyle and subtle, immaculate make-up, and forced a smile. As much as she’d told herself this marriage wasn’t real, she couldn’t halt the horde of butterflies beating frantically in her belly. ‘Thank you.’
‘And I hope you don’t mind, but we sent out for a bouquet. It seems a little wrong that a bride should get married without one, you know?’ The owner of the boutique, an elegant, fortyish woman, said. ‘Especially when you’re marrying Romeo Brunetti.’ The clear envy in her eyes and the awe in her voice echoed through Maisie.
She was saved from answering when the door opened and Bronagh entered holding a stunning cream-and-lilac rose arrangement bound with crystal-studded ribbon. ‘I’d say this bouquet is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, but I think you take the prize for that, Maisie,’ she said, her soft brown eyes widening as Maisie rose and she looked her over. ‘You’re going to knock that man of yours dead.’ There was a faintly querying note in her voice, but the reason Maisie had become fast friends with Bronagh Davis was because she’d offered friendship without prying just when Maisie had needed that. And although the other woman had probably guessed that Romeo was Lucca’s father—the similarities between them seemed to grow with each passing second—she hadn’t questioned Maisie.
‘You win all the points for flattery,’ Maisie replied, surreptitiously rubbing her palms together to keep them from getting any more damp.
Bronagh smiled and handed over the bouquet. ‘You can award me the points later. Your men are getting impatient, and from the way the older one is pacing, I wouldn’t be surprised if he storms in here and claims you.’
The butterflies’ wings flapped harder. Maisie swallowed down her absurd nervousness and any lingering sadness that indicated she wished this were real, that she were marrying a man she’d taken the time to meet, fall in love and ultimately join her life with.
That was a pipe dream she’d long ago abandoned, even before she’d been faced with an unplanned pregnancy and the sheer dedication she’d needed to take care of her child. She’d been exposed too many times to the ruthless indifference inherent in loveless relationships to believe that she would be the exception to the rule. The love she’d felt for Lucca the moment he was born had been a miraculous gift she intended to guard with everything she held dear. So she’d driven her energy into providing a home for her child, despite her parents’ icy disapproval.
Maisie reminded herself that this situation wasn’t in her control, that even in this she was putting Lucca’s needs first.
Her needs didn’t matter.
That particular thought took a steep dive when she emerged from the changing room and was confronted with Romeo Brunetti in a three-piece suit. Immaculate, imposingly masculine and utterly breathtaking, he was impossible to ignore. From the top of his neatly combed, wavy black hair, to the polished toes of his handmade shoes, he reeked irrefutable power and enough sexual magnetism to make kings quake and women swoon in his presence. And that look in his eyes...that brooding, almost formidable intensity that had made her tingle from head to toe the first time she’d seen him...
Yes. Maisie was reminded then how very needful she could be. And how some needs were impossible to suppress even with an iron will. She stared. Tried to pull her gaze away. Failed. And stared some more. At the back of her mind, a tiny voice said it was okay to stare because he was doing the same to her.
The look in his eyes was riveting, as if he were seeing her for the first time. A part of her thrilled at that look, the way it made her feel sexy and desirable...until she reminded herself that nothing would come of it. Nothing could.
Her attention was mercifully pulled away when Lucca rushed towards her. ‘You look beautiful, Mummy!’
Her smile wobbled when she saw his own attire—a miniature one of his father’s, right down to the buttoned-up waistcoat. ‘So do you, my precious.’
Romeo seemed to unfreeze then from his stance. ‘Come, the car’s waiting.’
Everyone snapped to attention. Two guards appeared at the shop door and nodded. They exited and slid into the back of the limo and were driving the short distance to the register office at Marylebone when he reached into his jacket, pulled out a long, velvet box and handed it to her.
‘What’s this?’ she blurted.
One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘I thought your absence of jewellery should be addressed.’