* * *
Alice’s first client of the day a few days later was a bride-to-be who was booked in for a trial make-up session.
Jennifer Preston was the epitome of a woman radiantly in love. She had been coming to Alice for years as a client and somehow over the time their relationship had morphed into friendship. Jennifer had always bemoaned the fact she hadn’t been able to find a suitable partner. But now she was happily engaged to a man she had met on a blind date set up by a friend and it truly was a match made in heaven.
Even a hardened cynic like Alice had to admit love at first sight could happen. Jennifer’s fiancé, Marcus, dropped her off at her appointment, and the way he looked at Jennifer when he kissed her goodbye made Alice feel like an imposter. Not that Cristiano didn’t look at her with affection and tenderness, but it wasn’t as if he were truly in love with her as Marcus was with Jennifer and had been from the moment they’d met.
During Jennifer’s trial make-up session, she told Alice about her wedding dress and the romantic honeymoon Marcus had planned. ‘You know, Alice, a few months ago I was single and hating it,’ Jennifer said. ‘Now I’m getting married to a man I adore and he adores me. But you know what I’m talking about. That man of yours is a seriously fast worker. Have you chosen your dress?’
‘Erm... Not yet, but I plan to duck out between clients this afternoon,’ Alice said. ‘So much to do, so little time.’
Jennifer rolled her eyes. ‘Tell me about it.’ She leaned forward to check her make-up. ‘Gosh, you’ve done a brilliant job. I look almost beautiful.’
Alice put her hand on Jennifer’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘You are beautiful. You’re positively glowing.’
Jennifer placed her hand over Alice’s, her eyes shimmering with excitement. ‘I haven’t told anyone else but Marcus yet, but I’m pregnant. Six weeks. Will you be godmother when it’s born?’
Alice blinked in surprise. ‘Me?’
Jennifer swung the chair around so she was facing Alice instead of talking to her reflection in the mirror. She grasped Alice’s hands in hers. ‘Why not you? You and I have been banging on about the paucity of good men in London for the last seven years. Now we’re both getting married within weeks of each other. And who knows? Maybe you’ll get pregnant soon too.’
Alice stretched her mouth into a smile that felt as fake as her upcoming wedding. ‘I’d be thrilled to be godmother. Truly honoured.’
Jennifer smiled. ‘That’s settled, then. Of course, you’re bringing Cristiano to my wedding? I’ll talk to the wedding planner about changing the seating arrangements. I’ve put you on a great table.’
‘That’s very kind,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll have to check with him to see if he’s free that weekend.’
‘I’m sure he’d do anything for you,’ Jennifer said, eyes sparkling. ‘He’s a man in love, right?’
CHAPTER TEN
ALICE RUSHED OUT between clients to check a couple of wedding boutiques in the area but couldn’t see anything that captured her attention. Or maybe it was her mood that was the problem. She’d been fighting a tension headache all afternoon. It didn’t feel right trying on dresses for a wedding that wasn’t going to last. It wasn’t just the expense of a dress, which was astronomical at the top end of town, but more the thought of play-acting at bride and groom when all she wanted was for it to be real.
How different would this shopping trip be if she were a bride like Jennifer Preston? Trying on beautiful gowns and veils, imagining Cristiano’s face at the end of the aisle when she appeared at the church.
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.
‘Why are you here?’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?’
Cristiano’s stomach dropped like an anvil hitting concrete. ‘Hospital?’
Meghan was wide-eyed with strain. ‘Yes, Alice fainted in a shop. I got a call from the owner a few minutes ago. She said Alice has been taken to hospital for observation. I’ve been in such a state trying to cancel all her clients as well as do my own. Is she all right? What’s wrong with her? They wouldn’t let me speak to her.’
Cristiano’s heart was giving a very good impression of needing urgent medical attention itself.
Alice sick? Taken to hospital?
Panic pounded like thunder in his blood.
No. No. No. Not again.
What if he couldn’t get there in time? Things happened in hospitals. Bad things. People went in and didn’t always come out. Or they did, but in body bags just like his family. ‘Which hospital?’
Meghan told him and then added as he rushed out of the door, ‘Oh, my God. You didn’t know?’
‘My phone’s been off all afternoon.’ He took it out of his jacket pocket and almost dropped it in his haste. But there were no missed calls from Alice and no text messages, either. What did that mean? She couldn’t call because she was too ill? Unconscious? In a coma?
His heart flapped like a blown tyre. His pulse hammered. He was so consumed with dread it felt as if a pineapple were jammed halfway down his throat.
‘Tell her I’ve got everything under control here,’ Meghan called after him. ‘Well, sort of...’
Cristiano hailed the nearest cab and then spent the entire journey wishing he’d dragged the cabby out of the driver’s seat and driven the thing himself. By the time he got to the hospital he was so worked up he could barely speak. He had to draw in a couple of deep breaths when he walked through the door.
The clean antiseptic smell hit him like a slap, instantly transporting him to that dreadful day. After his parents and brother were killed he had gone with his grandparents to the hospital where they had been taken. He still remembered those long corridors with the sound of his trainers squeaking as he walked that agonising walk to where his family were lying lifeless. He remembered the looks from the doctors and nurses—a mixture of compassion, I’m-glad-it’s-not-my-loved-ones-lying-in-there, and business-as-usual indifference. He remembered the shock of seeing his mother’s and father’s and brother’s bodies draped in shroud-like sheets. Not being able to grasp the thought of them never coming home, of life never being the same.
It had felt as if he had stepped into a parallel universe—it hadn’t been him standing there looking at his family but some other kid. Someone who could deal with it. Someone who wouldn’t carry the wound of loss around for the rest of his life.
Cristiano found the emergency department and asked a nurse for Alice’s whereabouts in a voice that sounded nothing like his own. He was led to a cubicle where Alice was lying with her eyes closed and hooked up to a saline drip. He saw the rise and fall of her chest and a giant wave of relief swept through him. He opened his mouth to say her name but nothing came out. He reached for her hand not attached to the drip and she opened her eyes and gave him a tremulous smile. ‘Hi.’
He sank to the chair beside the bed because he was sure his legs were going to fold beneath him.
‘What happened? What’s wrong, cara? Are you unwell? I was so worried I thought you might be...’ He swallowed back the word. ‘You scared the hell out of me. Are you all right?’
‘I’m perfectly fine. I just got a bit dehydrated and almost passed out. I didn’t want all this fuss but the lady in the shop I was in was so pushy and—’
‘It was a good thing she was,’ Cristiano said. ‘Why haven’t you been drinking enough? Are you not feeling well? You should have said—’
‘I was busy, that’s all.’ She gave him a weary smile. ‘Since we got back from Italy I’ve been run off my feet. I didn’t get lunch and I hadn’t had anything to drink since breakfast and that was only a sip or two of tea.’
He cradled her hand in both of his. Guilt slammed through him. It was his fault she hadn’t had a proper breakfast. He had distracted her with a passionate kiss that had ended with them making love up against the kitchen bench. He couldn’t resist her when she was all dressed up for work in that crisp smart uniform. He couldn’t resist her, period. He brought her hand up to his mouth and gently pressed a kiss to it.
‘How soon before I can take you home or do they want to keep you in overnight?’
She lifted her arm connected to the cannula. ‘Just until this runs through.’
Cristiano stroked her fingers. ‘You almost gave me a heart attack, young lady.’
She gave him a rueful movement of her lips. ‘Sorry.’
‘What shop were you in?’
Her gaze fell away from his. ‘A bridal boutique.’
Cristiano made a ‘that figures’ sound. ‘Yeah, well, I felt like passing out when I came in here. Bridal boutiques aren’t your favourite haunts and hospitals aren’t mine.’
Her gaze came back to his, her brow wrinkled in concern. ‘I’m so sorry for making you panic. I didn’t want anyone to call you. I knew I’d be all right once I got some fluids on board.’
Why hadn’t she got someone to call him? Didn’t she realise how that made him feel? Didn’t she have an inkling of what he’d gone through just then? ‘But you should have called me or had someone do it for you.’
Her frown deepened. ‘Why should I?’
He gave her a speaking look. ‘Come on, Alice, we’re engaged to be married, for God’s sake. I’m the first person you or someone taking care of you should call when something like this happens.’
Her gaze slipped out of reach of his. ‘We’re not exactly like a normal couple, though, are we?’
Cristiano tightened his hold on her hand. ‘This isn’t the time or place to have this conversation. You’re not well and I’m in no state to be rational.’
There was a long silence.
‘Aren’t you going to ask?’ Alice said.
‘Ask what?’
She turned her head to meet his gaze. ‘Whether I’m pregnant.’
Cristiano’s heart juddered to a stop and then started again with a sickening jolt. ‘Are you?’
‘No.’
He was glad...wasn’t he? Of course he was. A baby was the last thing he wanted. A baby would change everything. He didn’t want anything changed. Their marriage was two weeks away and that was all he wanted to think about right now. Get the job done. Mission accomplished. Move on.
‘That’s good.’ He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I bet you’re relieved about that.’
Another weary smile flicke
red across her mouth. ‘Sure am.’ She shifted on the bed as if the mattress was uncomfortable. ‘I’ve been asked to be godmother to a client-stroke-friend’s baby. I’m going to her wedding after I do her make-up next weekend. She’s invited you since we’re...you know, supposed to be engaged.’
‘Would you like me to go with you?’
Her teeth sank into the pillow of her lip for a moment. ‘I guess it’ll be a good practice run, huh? See how it’s done and all.’
‘You’ve been to a wedding before, surely? Or has your aversion to them stretched that far?’
‘I was flower girl at my mother’s second marriage,’ Alice said. ‘I tripped going up the aisle and my stepfather told me off for it afterwards in front of all the guests. I was so mortified I wet my pants.’
Cristiano frowned. ‘How old were you?’
‘Six. He carried on about it for years and my mother never did anything to stop him.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘I was glad when he left her for another woman. But for a while after Mum blamed me for jinxing their wedding day.’
‘Does she still blame you?’
‘No, not now.’ Another sigh wafted past her lips. ‘But I didn’t go to her third wedding on principle.’
‘In case you tripped up the aisle?’
She gave him a worldly look. ‘No, because her third husband has wandering hands and is a thief.’
Cristiano could see now why she had a thing about marriage. ‘What about your father? Did he ever marry again?’
‘Yes, and surprisingly it’s working,’ she said. ‘He and Tania haven’t had it easy, though. They have a little boy with severe autism. That’s why I give Dad money from time to time, to pay for Sam’s therapy.’
‘That’s kind of you.’
She gave a little movement of her lips that could have loosely passed for a smile. ‘My dad isn’t as bad as my mother always makes out. He just wasn’t ready for marriage way back then. He’s grown up now. He’s taking responsibility for his wife and family. I know he wasn’t an angel by any means when he was married to my mother, but he wasn’t in love with her. Not the way he is with Tania.’
The Temporary Mrs. Marchetti (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 13
