The Prince and the Wedding Planner

by Jennifer Faye

  Nothing.

  He should probably just walk away and leave well enough alone, but he couldn’t resist trying once more.

  This time he knocked harder. Louder. “Bianca?”

  With a resigned sigh, he turned toward his own private set of rooms. He’d taken no more than three steps when he heard her door swing open.

  “Were you looking for me?”

  He turned. “I was.”

  “Sorry. I was out on the balcony, enjoying what’s left of this beautiful day.”

  He retraced his steps. “Your room, is it to your liking?”

  “Yes, it is. I think it’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever stayed in.”

  “That’s good.” That’s good? Was that the best he could do?

  But the thing was that every time he was within Bianca’s gravitational pull, it messed with his thinking. His thoughts got tangled and his words seemed to lack substance.

  It wasn’t like him to be caught up in a beautiful woman. Yes, he’d admired many attractive women and he’d definitely enjoyed their time. But none of them had ever driven him to go out of his way to know more about them.

  “I was just working on some preliminary plans for the wedding,” Bianca said, interrupting his thoughts. “Well, it’s more like a list of questions.” Her glittering brown eyes lifted until their gazes met. “Perhaps you’d care to help me.”

  “Yes.” What was he saying? He knew next to nothing about weddings. And that was being generous.

  But if this gave him more of an opportunity to spend time with Bianca, then he was all for it. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. It was then that he inhaled the gentlest scent of wildflowers. It wasn’t the first time he’d come across the unique scent.

  As he followed Bianca to the balcony, he realized it was her. She was the one who smelled like sweet blossoms. He didn’t think he’d ever come across a field of wildflowers without thinking of her.

  When she came to a sudden stop, he nearly ran into her. As it was, his hands reached out for her tiny waist, his fingers wrapping around her so as not to bump her into the table.

  She turned in his hands. “Sorry.” Their gazes met once more. This time he was holding her and he didn’t want to let go.

  The breath hitched in his throat. His gaze dipped to her berry-red lips. They looked so full, so succulent. What would she do if he were to draw her to him and pluck a deep, long kiss?

  He could have his choice of women. There was even a stack of biographies from available, eager women waiting for him on his desk. So why was he drawn to this quiet wedding planner?

  Though Bianca was beautiful with her long loose curls, a golden complexion and dark lashes that framed her eyes, which were the mirrors to her soul, she was not from Patazonia. She was not royal. She was not even the daughter of an influential businessman. In his mother’s eyes, Bianca was a nobody.

  But to him, she was intriguing. She was tempting. And the more time he spent with her, the more captivated he became.

  As though Bianca could read his thoughts, she moved out of his grasp. “I... I meant to offer you some coffee. I just brewed a pot.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. A cup of coffee would be good. It would give his hands something to do besides finding their way back to her. Because if he were to pull her close again, he couldn’t guarantee that things wouldn’t move from a business relationship to something much more intimate.

  “That sounds good.” He took a seat at the small table on the balcony.

  A minute later, Bianca returned with a full cup. “I forgot to ask what you take in your coffee.”

  “Black is fine.” Right now, he wasn’t sure he would actually notice what he was drinking. As Bianca took a seat next to him, his full attention returned to her. “How may I help with the wedding?”

  She opened her laptop and moved her cursor to the top of a form. “Do you know approximately how many guests to expect?”

  While the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, he answered as many of her questions as he could. He surprised himself by how many details he’d picked up on by listening to his sister and mother argue.

  He knew things about his sister’s dress. Whether the ceremony would be ultraformal. And he knew where the reception was being held. Even the number of courses to be served for dinner.

  “I’d like to do something for my sister on her wedding day,” he said. “She’s making a lot of concessions to please my mother and go along with tradition, but I think she needs a chance to let down her hair and live it up on her big day. Do you have any ideas?”

  Bianca stopped typing and thought for a moment. “Since the wedding is early in the day, you could do an after-party.”

  “An after-party.” He mulled this over. “Does this mean we could have a select list of guests?”

  “Certainly. You could exclude some of the guests from the ceremony and include some others that were not fortunate enough to receive a ceremony invite. The after-party can be as formal or informal as you’d like.”

  This appealed to him. He knew his sister and her fiancé had a lot of friends—friends that had to be overlooked for invitations to the ceremony in order to invite heads of state and dignitaries from all over Europe and beyond. This would be a way for his sister to have everyone she cared about around her on her big day.

  “I like it,” he said. “But for the moment, let’s just keep this between us. I’ll have a list of guests for you by the end of the week.”

  “That’s good because we don’t have much time to plan something like this.” She hesitated.

  “What’s bothering you?”

  Her gaze lifted to meet his. “With it being so close to the wedding, a lot of people might have other obligations already?”

  “Let me worry about it. You pick out an appropriate invite and I’ll put together the list.”

  “What about the venue?”

  “That’s the easiest part. We will have it at the Hampstead estate next to the lake. It’s about fifteen kilometers from here. Far enough that it won’t bother my mother with the loud music.”

  Bianca’s eyes widened. “You were serious about letting your hair down.”

  “Definitely. I just wish I’d have thought of it.”

  “Why? I don’t mind sharing ideas with you. After all, it’s my job.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not that. If I’d have had this idea a lot sooner, I could have booked some headline bands. As it is, they are probably all booked.”

  They continued to talk about bands. He named the ones he’d heard his sister mention. Then he inquired about Bianca’s favorite band and in turn, he told her his. For a moment, it wasn’t work. It was like they were two friends getting to know each other.

  “Thank you.” Bianca finished her list of potential bands. “I’ll do the best I can to get someone your sister will approve of.”

  “And my mother doesn’t need to know about any of this for now. Speaking of which, it is time to dress for dinner.” He got to his feet. And then he realized he needed to make something else perfectly clear. “You will be reporting to me on this wedding. I know my mother likes to think she’s in control, but I would like to have dinner with you each evening to go over everything—to make sure we’re on track.”

  Bianca nodded. “Understood. And we can discuss my promotional campaign.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “I won’t forget. I already have my people working on some preliminary mockups. I’ll have them for you to approve shortly.”

  Her face lit up with excitement. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll stop back and walk you to dinner.” And with that he left.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WASN’T A QUESTION.

  It wasn’t an invite.

  It was a declaration. Prince Leopold woul
d be escorting her to dinner.

  As Bianca stared into the mirror, she became distracted. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the turmoil back in Tuscany. Her attention focused on her face. She searched for signs that she was a Bartolini. Her nose—was it too small? She turned this way and that way.

  Her eyes—were they too close together? Were they the same size and shape as her father’s? She struggled to conjure up the exact details of her father’s face. The more she struggled to recall, the more frustrated she became.

  As she continued to stare at her reflection, she remembered people commenting on how much she resembled her mother. Was that a clue? Did she look like her mother because her father wasn’t truly her father?

  And if she wasn’t a Bartolini, who was she?

  The questions tumbled through her mind. They weighed on her, putting everything she thought she knew about herself into question.

  Tears of frustration pricked the backs of her eyes. She blinked repeatedly. How long were those DNA tests going to take? The wait was agonizing.

  But right now, she had an important dinner with the royal family. She put on diamond stud earrings followed by diamond dangle earrings. She may be a poor pauper compared to the wealth of this royal family, but back in her own world, the Bartolini’s had made a name for themselves.

  She gazed down at the navy-and-silver dress she’d selected for this evening. It was formfitting and hugged her curves. As she stared in the mirror, she sucked in her breath, pulling in her stomach. Maybe this wasn’t the right dress to wear for meeting the queen for the first time. But when she checked the time, it was a quarter to seven. Too late to change now. She expected Leo to arrive any minute.

  Bianca slipped on the silver rhinestone–studded stilettos. Still, she was stuck on the fact that a prince—a sexy, gorgeous prince—would be her escort for dinner. Who cared if he was a bit presumptuous? She knew how to put him in his place if he got obnoxious. Though she just couldn’t imagine Leo being an overbearing jerk.

  As she finished with the delicate strap on her shoe, her attention focused on her nails. She’d had them done for the wedding at the vineyard. She lifted her hands to her face and inspected them. Other than a slight tremor, they looked good. The French manicure was holding up nicely. The last thing she wanted was to greet the queen looking anything other than her best.

  The nervous tremor that had started in her hands moved to her stomach. She was meeting a queen. Who did that? People with a much higher social status than her. She didn’t even know what to say to the woman. Her mouth grew dry. Her brain drew a blank.

  Don’t think about it. Think about something else.

  She wanted someone to share this moment with. Her thoughts turned to her sister. She knew Gia would be in awe over this just as she was. And she had promised to let her siblings know when she’d arrived safely.

  She reached for her phone. As she went to pull up her sisters’ number, she paused. The last time she’d seen them, there had been a big argument. She didn’t want to go there again. Perhaps a text message would be best.

  Arrived safely.

  Immediately a response pinged on her phone.

  Exciting! What’s it like?

  Amazing!

  And the prince?

  Bianca thought for a moment. Scads of adjectives raced to the front of her mind.

  Amazing!

  #jealous Tell me more.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Coming,” Bianca called out.

  Can’t now. My prince...

  Bianca groaned. Erase. Erase.

  Can’t now. The prince has arrived for dinner.

  #exciting Don’t forget. Details. Lots of details.

  LOL. Talk soon.

  Bianca smiled as she set aside her phone. Things were starting to seem normal between her and her sister. Perhaps she’d had the right idea about putting a little distance between them. Because during this whole thing of losing her parents and the mess with the will, she could really use her friend—her sister.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Bianca, are you ready?”

  “Yes. I’ll be right there.” She glanced in the mirror. She adjusted a stray hair and then smoothed the makeup under her left eye. It was as good as it was going to get.

  She moved to the door and swung it open. She didn’t know it was possible for Leo to look any better than she’d seen him so far. But she’d been wrong.

  His short dark hair was still damp from his shower. The sides were clipped close to his head while the curls on top were short but just long enough for them to do their own things. And what they did made Bianca want to reach out and run her fingers through the damp curls.

  Her gaze met his smiling eyes. Her heart raced. His face was clean-shaven. She paused to inhale, imagining the slightest hint of a spicy aftershave. Mmm... She longed to take a step forward and lean into him for a real whiff.

  “You look beautiful.” His voice drew her from her meandering thoughts.

  “Th-thank you.” She needed to calm herself.

  Otherwise she was likely to make a fool of herself in front of the queen. If she did that, she’d end up fired before she even began her job. And she didn’t want to think of the negative consequences to her business.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  She glanced back at the room just to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She leveled her shoulders and turned back to him. “I’m ready.”

  He arched a brow. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  In true princely fashion, he held his arm out to her. “Then let’s go.”

  She stepped out, pulled the door shut behind her and then placed her hand in the crook of his arm. The heat of his body radiated into her skin, warming her cell by cell, bone by bone. Did he have any idea what he did to her heart rate?

  She hoped not. As it was, she had to concentrate on walking. She didn’t want to trip over her own two feet. How embarrassing would that be?

  She swallowed hard, trying to put on a calm exterior. “What’s your mother like?”

  “Hmm... How long do you have?”

  “Oh, boy.”

  A soft deep laugh rumbled in his chest. “Relax. I’ll be there with you.”

  That was of little comfort considering she didn’t rely on others to fight her battles. It was one of the lessons her father had instilled in her and her siblings. To make it in this world you have to be strong with a kind heart.

  “How do I address her?”

  “Don’t address her unless she speaks to you first. And then you may refer to her as Your Majesty.”

  “Oh, my. That formal, huh?” This definitely wasn’t like any other time where she’d gone to meet a boyfriend’s mother. Far from it.

  Leo nodded. “My mother is a stickler for titles, duty and tradition.”

  “What do you call her?”

  “Mother, in private.”

  “And in public?”

  “Your Majesty.”

  It took a second for Bianca to realize that her mouth was agape. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to grow up the way he had.

  Sooner than she was prepared for, they arrived just outside the dining room. Leo turned to her. “Are you ready?”

  Bianca nodded.

  With her stomach twisted in a nervous knot, she entered. She found Giselle standing by a tall handsome man who must be her fiancé, by the way she was looking at him.

  Next to them stood another couple. They were older. The man looked quite distinguished and though he didn’t smile that often, his wife beamed as she made small talk with Giselle.

  And then Bianca’s attention moved to an older woman with silver hair. It was cut short into a neat bob. That she presumed was the queen. Her stomach shivered with anxiety. Surely that queen cou
ldn’t be as intimidating as she was imagining. Could she?

  Leo came to a stop near the group and waited for a pause in the conversation. “Mother,” he waited until she turned her attention to them, “I’d like to introduce Bianca Bartolini of Tuscany, Italy.” And then he turned to Bianca. “Bianca, I’d like to introduce the Queen of Patazonia.”

  Bianca’s mouth went dry but her brain worked just enough for her to remember to curtsy to the queen. She hoped that was right. When she straightened, the queen was staring at her with a hawk-like stare. Bianca’s breath stilled in her lungs.

  She felt so out of place—so out of her realm. But she couldn’t falter. She had to stay strong for Leo, for Giselle, for herself. Without this account, the future of her wedding business looked uncertain. She needed her business as her touchstone. Without it she’d be adrift.

  Leo had warned her not to speak until spoken too. And yet she felt compelled to say something—anything to break this awkward silence.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m honored to be here. Your palace, it’s quite extraordinary.”

  A penciled brow rose. “Perhaps if my son isn’t too busy, he can give you a tour of the gardens before you leave. They were my husband’s passion.”

  “Thank you but...” Just then Leo gave a slight shake of his head. Bianca adjusted what she was about to say. “I will definitely make a point of visiting the gardens.”

  “Very well. Shall we eat?” The queen started for the head of the table.

  The queen acted as though she were there just for the evening. Did the woman not know that she was the wedding planner? Had Leo failed to tell her?

  Bianca glanced over at Leo who was making conversation with a gentleman who had such a sour expression that it looked as though he’d just sucked on a lemon. She had no idea who the man was but he obviously didn’t have a very optimistic view of life.

  Thankfully she’d been seated near Giselle. She really liked the young woman. She was warm and vivacious, unlike her mother. Bianca also noticed that the bride-to-be mentioned the wedding only once in passing. She found that odd. Most of the brides she’d worked with were quite excited for the big day and would talk about the preparations almost nonstop. Perhaps the rift between mother and daughter was the reason for the quietness on the subject.