From the altar the priest cleared his throat. ‘Shall we start again?’
They both nodded, but in truth she was in no rush. She wanted to enjoy every second of this ceremony, savour every minute of this extraordinary day.
Looking down at the vows he had written himself, Ivo cleared his throat and this time managed to say the words without his voice cracking. ‘You are the centre of my world. You bring me joy, acceptance and contentment. Every day throughout our marriage I promise to hear and react to your feelings and thoughts. I vow to love, respect, and cherish you. I pledge myself only to you, as long as we both shall live.’
Her heart filled with love, Toni repeated her own vows, her voice steady, not even a single tear in her eye, her safety and security in their relationship, Ivo time and time again proving over the past year of their life together in San Jorbo that she was the centre of his world, his constant gentle kindness, their intimate lovemaking, freeing her of any doubts as to his love.
And after her vows, Ivo’s father stepped forward to recite the reflection he had written. When he had asked them if he could read the reflection they had both been taken aback. After all, he wasn’t known for taking part in any ceremony outside the set royal protocols. But they had immediately agreed, touched by the gesture, if not a little apprehensive as to what he might say.
Lifting his gaze from where he stood at the lectern, he studied each of his sons in turn before saying, ‘I have written a reflection on love that I would like to share with you all. “Love is found in the quiet moments. In the touch of a hand. A soothing whisper. In the acceptance of who you are. Love is holding tight in the storms of life, the willingness to change. Love is being able to say goodbye and honouring what you had. Love is generosity and forgiveness, the embracing of life. Love well, my sons and daughters. Love with joy and open hearts.”’
* * *
If you missed the previous stories in the Royals of Monrosa trilogy, then check out
Best Friend to Princess Bride
Christmas Encounter with a Prince
And if you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Katrina Cudmore
Second Chance with the Best Man
Resisting the Italian Single Dad
Christmas with the Duke
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Reunited with Her Blue-Eyed Billionaire by Barbara Wallace.
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Reunited with Her Blue-Eyed Billionaire
by Barbara Wallace
CHAPTER ONE
THE RENAISSANCE COURTYARD at Boston’s Gardner Museum smelled like a rainforest. Orchids of all colors and sizes filled the courtyard, mixing with ferns and pines to create a subtropical paradise. Tucked between a pair of fifteenth-century statues, a harpist added soft notes to the floral tapestry. It was the perfect romantic setting for an engagement party.
Not to mention showing an ex-boyfriend what he’d passed up seven years ago.
Jamie Rutkowski’s stiletto heels tapped on the cement as she strode toward the bar. She was a woman on a mission, one that demanded a glass of champagne.
“There you are!” Her best friend and the bride-to-be, Keisha, appeared in front of her, arms spread wide. She wrapped Jamie in a warm hug before stepping back to admire Jamie’s outfit. “Look at you all dressed up like a supermodel. You know it’s against the rules to outshine the bride at her own engagement party, right?” she said.
“Like I could do that.” No one could outshine her fashionista friend, although Jamie was giving it her best shot in a raspberry silk dress that stopped just short of midthigh. Her credit card had wept a little when she bought it, but, Jamie rationalized, you couldn’t put a price on revenge.
Keisha, on the other hand, could have worn a sack instead of her designer dress and the happiness on her face would still make her look perfect.
“You look amazing,” Jamie said. “Being engaged agrees with you.”
“Thank you,” her friend replied, “but I’m still putting you in an ugly bridesmaid dress, just in case. Since when do you do the sex kitten thing anyway? I haven’t seen you in heels that high in, like, forever. Oh...” Realization broke across her features. “This is all for Whit.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jamie’s attempt at playing innocent failed spectacularly. She and Keisha had been friends far too long.
Her friend looked at her through her false eyelashes. “I’m the one who held your hair back after you drank yourself stupid over the guy, remember.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We were over years ago. I’ve barely given him a thought since graduation.” Other than a few Google searches and some Facebook stalking, but innocent curiosity was normal, wasn’t it? Everyone looked up their old flames when they’d had a few drinks or suffered a breakup.
“Then why the knockout dress?” Keisha asked.
“Why not? What’s wrong with wanting to look like a million bucks for my best friend’s engagement party?”
Said best friend gave her a skeptical stare.
“All right,” Jamie said reluctantly, “so I wanted to make sure I look really good when I saw him. If you were going to see your ex-boyfriend, wouldn’t you want him to appreciate what he’d passed up?”
Every woman had at least one relationship regret, and Whitmore Martin was hers. Handsome, ultra cool and filthy rich, he’d been the dream boyfriend of every girl on their college campus. Jamie had crushed on him for two solid years, never dreaming he’d ever take notice of a no-name scholarship girl like her. But he did notice her, and for an amazing semester and a half, they’d been an item. Until he graduated and took off for Europe, never to be heard from again.
The worst thing was that Jamie couldn’t even hold his leaving against him. He’d told her when they’d first got together that he’d signed a contract to play polo in Europe. Because that’s what ultra cool, filthy rich guys did when they graduated. Join the professional polo circuit. She was the one who’d agreed to a temporary fling and then proceeded to fall in love with a guy a million miles out of her league. Every time she thought of what a foolish idiot she’d been, it made her cringe.
“What’s wrong with making sure that when Whit sees me, he knows I’m successful and living my best life?”
“You don’t need a dress for that,” Keisha replied. “You’ve got a fantastic career. How many other people do you know who have had two books hit the bestseller lists?”
“Neither of which had my name on the cover,” Jamie pointed out. None of her ghostwritten pieces did. Made bragging about her achievements difficult. “This dress will communicate my winner status without me having to say a word. Then all I have to do is smile dismissively, flip my ponytail and tell him, ‘Later.’”
Keisha pursed her smoked purple lips. “A classic passive-aggressive move. I approve.”
“What can I say? I’ve learned from the best,” Jamie replied. Keisha waved her off with fake modesty. “Next thing you know, I’ll bump into an old classmate while buying sushi and end up engaged too.”
“Best sushi I ever had.” Keisha smirked.
“Hey, baby, look who decided to make an appearance,” said a voice from behind Jamie. It belonged to Keisha’s fiancé, Terrance.
“Better get your ponytail ready,” Keisha said through a frozen grin. She held out her arms for a hug. “Oh, my God, Whit Martin! Come here, you!”
Jamie stared at the man hugging her friend. Whit had changed since she’d last seen him. There was a worldly air about him now, a kind of seen-it-all sophistication that couldn’t be faked. He had a serio
usness about him as well, evident by the lines at the edges of his blue eyes and a pair of newly acquired glasses that gave him a sexy professor vibe. Gone too was the windblown crop of golden hair. The new, mature Whit’s hair was cropped short and tight. Jamie had a feeling the style might be to partially mask a receding hairline, but that hardly mattered at all. The man still charged the room with his presence.
And Jamie’s breath still hitched at the sight of him.
“Keisha, you look incredible. Better than this guy deserves,” Whit said.
He then gave Terrance a playful slap on the arm before finally looking at her. “Hey, Jamie.” They were the first words he’d said to her since their goodbye seven years ago. To Jaime’s own disgust, his soft voice twirled right down her spine. “Good to see you again.”
“Good to see you too,” she replied. Thankfully she could at least sound indifferent. “How have you been? Are you still living in Europe?” Keisha had already told her that he wasn’t, but this way it didn’t sound like they’d been talking about him.
“No. I’m based in New York.” He answered quickly, as though she’d asked something distasteful, and continued. “That’s why I’m late. My last meeting ran long. I finally told them to settle things on their own and got to Boston as quickly as I could.”
“Please tell me you took the copter,” Terrance said. “I love telling people my buddy’s got his own helicopter.”
“Technically it’s not my own; it belongs to the foundation, but yes, I took the copter.”
Nice to see not everything had changed about him. He was still living large. Jamie thought about the last time she’d drunk-surfed the ’net for his picture. It was a few years ago. She remembered finding a bunch of pictures of him in Capri with a pair of beautiful blondes on his arms and champagne bottles in both hands. Clearly loving life.
She forced a little extra brightness into her smile. “See, Keisha, I told you your engagement was a big deal. People are flying in especially for your party.”
“How could I not fly in to celebrate your engagement?” Whit asked. “I had to, if for no other reason than to figure out how Terrance managed to get a goddess like Keisha to date him, let alone agree to spend the rest of her life with him.”
“I did it totally for the finger bling,” Keisha said, before leaning in and tweaking her fiancé’s chin. “Just kidding, boo. You know I would have waited forever for you.”
They kissed, and Jamie found herself trying not to feel jealous. Across from her, Whit was suddenly interested in his drink. His obvious discomfort helped. Meant she wasn’t the only one finding the moment awkward.
Terrance saved them both by speaking. “We should get moving if you want to do this. My mom is asking us to cut the engagement cake.”
“Do what?” Jamie asked.
“Kish and I want to get the wedding party together for a toast. I sent everyone down to the Blue Room.”
Keisha hooked her arm in Jamie’s and started walking toward the doorway on the north side of the garden. “Terrance thought it would be cool to have the toast in the Dutch Room in front of one of those empty frames.”
“You mean where the missing paintings hung?” The museum, which had been robbed of nearly a dozen paintings in 1990, continued to display the frames as a way of reminding the public the art had never been recovered.
“What can I say? He’s been fascinated by the robbery ever since he read your book. Anyway, I told him that room was way too dark and gloomy, so we compromised. This room is brighter and yet still has one of those creepy empty frames left over from the art theft. Are you okay?” Keisha added the last part in a whisper so the men behind them couldn’t hear.
“Fine,” Jamie replied. “Why wouldn’t I be?” What did she care if Whit didn’t act the least bit impressed by her appearance? Shame on her for thinking she was that important a memory. Like she’d ever be memorable to a man who partied with models and had a private helicopter? “If anything, it was anticlimactic. He’s just a guy I used to know.”
“If you say so,” Keisha said doubtfully. “He seems different, don’t you think? I know he looks different with his hair so short now, but there’s something else too. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“I know what you mean.” Jamie couldn’t define the difference either. It was something about his eyes, but she couldn’t say exactly what.
As Terrance said, the rest of the wedding party was waiting for them. They stood in a small clump in the center of the room. Over the years, they’d done a lot of socializing, so Jamie knew the bridal party pretty well. They greeted her with hellos and compliments. A similar burst of conversation came from the men in the room upon Whit’s entrance. Comments about time passing and hairline jokes rippled through the group.
Stepping back from the crowd, Jamie marveled at the way Whit’s presence immediately brought a zing to the atmosphere. He glided more than walked his body teeming with confidence and grace. People’s attention was drawn to him like a magnet, not because of his good looks, but because he exuded a superiority that made everyone else in the room fade into the background.
She remembered the first time she saw him on campus. It was a couple weeks into her freshman year and Whit was playing Frisbee outside the residence halls. He had a deep golden tan and sun-streaked hair that stood up on end from his fingers constantly combing through it. She remembered thinking he was the most beautiful boy she’d ever laid eyes on. Make that man. He looked far more sophisticated than any boy from her high school. So beautiful he almost seemed to glow. Now, despite the serious expression behind his designer glasses, the man still glowed, and she was yet again just another girl in the crowd.
She’d worn uncomfortable shoes for nothing.
* * *
“Good to have you back, bro.”
Whit acknowledged the greeting and good-natured ribbing with a smile he didn’t feel. Being back among his college friends was a painful reminder of his former self, a person he wished had never existed. It wasn’t his friends’ fault. They remembered the past through nostalgia-colored glasses. They didn’t know he cringed with shame from any reminder of his former reckless behavior.
A flash of raspberry pink caught his eye. Jamie had separated from the group to stand by an antique desk near the window. She stood with her hands clasped behind her, studying the art hanging on the blue tapestry wall. She looked good, amazing really. In college, she’d been more of a T-shirt and jeans kind of gal. Of course, people changed. God knows, after everything it had been through, his body certainly felt way older than twenty-eight. In Jamie’s case, time had definitely worked in her favor. The shimmery pink material draped her body in all the right places, and it’d taken all his self-control not to stare when he first saw her this evening. Last thing he wanted to be was the creepy ex who couldn’t let go of the past.
He remembered the first time he’d really noticed her. First semester, senior year. Storytelling through History. He’d only taken the class because he’d needed to fulfill a requirement and had heard the professor was an easy grade. Jamie was an English major. One of those quiet, diligent students who arrived early, sat in the front row and hung on the professor’s every word. Whit had stared at the back of her head for two weeks without ever seeing her face.
Then one rainy, blustery day, something had held her up and she’d rushed into class late. Her cheeks were pink from the wind, with strands of damp curls stuck to her cheeks. Whit remembered watching her comb through the wet locks with her fingers and wondering how such a gorgeous face had managed to fly under his radar.
After that, English class got a lot more interesting. Whit had made a point of getting to know her and discovered that diligent facade hid a biting sense of humor. During class discussions, Whit enjoyed pushing her buttons because he knew she’d eventually get frustrated and give him some kind of sarcastic reply, and when their paths had cros
sed at a party later that semester, he’d done what any red-blooded college senior would do: he’d made his move.
What he’d figured would be a one-night stand had lasted the rest of the college year. Jamie, he’d quickly realized, was prettier, funnier and smarter than most of the girls on campus. Why waste time chasing second best? In fact, he’d almost—almost—suggested they try a long-distance thing, but she’d been so cool about his leaving for Europe that he didn’t. “Who says I’m looking for a commitment?” he’d remembered her saying the very first night they’d slept together.
How different his life might have been if he hadn’t changed his mind. Looking at Jamie now, it was clear she’d done just fine after he left. He wondered if she ever thought of him like he thought of her, or if he had been relegated to a pleasant but distant memory. His money was on the distant memory.
A server stopped to offer him champagne for the toast. Helping himself to two glasses, he walked over and offered her one. “Can’t make a toast without a glass in your hand.”
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He watched her take a sip while letting his own full glass dangle from his fingers. It was a posture he’d perfected over the past few months, having discovered it was easier to hold an untouched drink than stand there empty-handed.
“Can you believe my old roommate is marrying your old roommate?” He nodded toward the couple at the center of the room. “When Terrance told me they were dating, I couldn’t believe it.”
“I know, right? They ignored each other all through college.”
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