“It’s Luca’s idea,” Antonio remarked, very pleased with her handiwork.
Sabrina went up to the skylight room, looked for the matching handbag, and inserted the piece of paper she would show Markos Konstantinos later. On the coffee table, there was a note in Luca’s hand saying he would be waiting for her at the salon. With one last glance at the bathroom mirror, she went to look for him.
In the salon, he had taken one look at her and murmured, “Stunning.” Then nothing else. Sabrina felt keenly disappointed at his lack of admiration.
He, however, looked smashing in a white shirt and tie. The black coat tail and black trousers made him look leaner and elegant. She remembered the first time she saw him at the lobby of The Medeia. He had appeared as if he had stepped out of a fashion magazine. Debonair, that was the old-fashioned word Sabrina was searching for. The way he looked tonight, it was as if he was out for a night in Monte Carlo, shaking martinis and stirring hearts aflutter.
He had taken her arm on the way to the car then inside, he kept his distance. They were inches apart, but there was an invisible gulf that stretched between them. Sabrina wanted to break the divide but didn’t know how without revealing her purpose. She didn’t want to test his loyalty to his friend. She was afraid he’d choose him.
She didn’t want to be that girl who had been passed over too many times. Made to left waiting, expecting, only to be disappointed time and again. She had learned the lesson long and hard. Those recurring, unmet promises had crusted around her heart. Because if he didn’t choose her, the crust would fragment into a hundred pieces and her heart would be just soft tissue once more, a vulnerable, breakable organ.
The car entered a tunnel the same time he spoke.
“I’m sorry I won’t be good company tonight.” His voice was gravelly.
She longed to take his hand in hers, but she didn’t. Tell him.
“Whatever happens tonight, strega, you have a place at the yacht.”
She wished that were so. She turned blindly to the window, desperately trying to stop the tears from falling. Must not ruin make-up.
The car emerged from the tunnel and she lost her chance to speak.
On top of a huge hill, the Royal Palace glowed like a jewel against the dark, velvet skies. Traffic had slowed to a crawl as a huge number of cars were making their way up an inclined road lit by beautiful ornate lamps. Winds were buffeting the royal pennants strung around lampposts.
It was a fairy tale evening for a fairy tale wedding. Sabrina fervently hoped her evening would have a happy ending as well.
Chapter 18
The royal couple were standing by the entrance of the grand ballroom greeting their guests.
Luca discreetly tried to check if Markos had arrived. The sea of men in black coat tails made it hard to single out an individual. Mercifully, his mother had begged off the evening affair, saying she had been tired out from the luncheon. He hoped Mrs. Konstantinos was also resting in the hotel. He wanted to get the whole damned thing over with, to march Sabrina over to Markos so he could get a measure of peace.
Only he wasn’t sure he would want peace if she decided she wanted nothing to do with him after. He had a very bad feeling he’d go berserk, smash things, and drown himself in liquor. He just didn’t know in what order.
Luca’s gut felt like he had swallowed hot coals. He had known she was very beautiful, there was no denying it, but at his first glimpse of her in her dress, he had almost backed out of bringing her to the reception. He had seen the gown at the fashion show in Milan, but Sabrina fitted the gown like no reed-slim runway model.
Every red-blooded male in the reception would be treated to a vision of her curves, outlined by that unforgiving sheath of a gown he had the misfortune to pick. The curves of her luscious breasts, the indent of her narrow waist, the swell of her tight derriere–all of that bounty on display. As if he didn’t have Markos to contend with, he’d have to fend off other men for sure.
So he had grunted a single word and pretended he didn’t notice how crestfallen she appeared at his reluctant compliment. But he was wrestling with a far worse emotion. Dread.
He dreaded the moment when his friend would clap eyes on Sabrina again.
It just means a lot to me, that’s all.
But what if Markos took one good look at her and decided he wanted another opening? A reconciliation? And what if Sabrina did too? She had pursued him. She must have felt strongly for him. And might still do.
He was giving her the chance to choose when everything in him just wanted to lock her up and keep her all to himself. With her, it was all or nothing.
Princess Lexie’s hazel eyes lit up with pleasure when she spotted him. Her new husband, world-famous polo player Nicolas Fernandez, shook his hand and clapped him congenially on the back.
After some words of felicitations, the couple turned expectantly towards Sabrina.
Luca introduced her as his date. She appeared disconcerted by the use of the term. Like the first time they had met, she blushed. From the base of her smooth, pale neck to the tips of her ears and up to her hairline.
Lexie, used to hiding her reactions from public, acted as if nothing had happened. Her husband though was sporting a small grin.
“Congratulations and best wishes on your marriage, Your Highness, Mr. Fernandez,” Sabrina said, obviously striving for equanimity.
Lexie flashed her a disarming smile. “Thank you, Miss Connelly. I hope you have a nice time tonight.”
“She’s with me,” Luca interjected lightly. “How can she not?”
Sabrina and Lexie both rolled their eyes at the same time. The four of them burst into laughter.
“She’s a keeper, Luca,” Nic Fernandez leaned into him so the ladies couldn’t hear.
“How can you tell?”
The sportsman shrugged. “She reminds me a lot of my wife.” He shot Luca another grin, the same one that leapt off billboards and magazine endorsements and straight into women’s ovaries.
Lucky for Nic Fernandez, Luca knew how besotted the Argentine was with his cousin or else he might consider the man a potential threat.
As with every other man in the ballroom who had given Sabrina a glance. Dio! What you do to me, strega.
They had to cut the delightful exchange short since a line of well-wishers still had to pay their respects to the newlyweds. A woman in a black suit, presumably one of the event coordinators, led them to a table near a raised dais with a music band set up.
The attendees for the evening reception were mostly composed of family and friends of the couple as opposed to the luncheon where dignitaries, older family members, and senior European royals were entertained.
The affair had a younger, more informal vibe. The conversation was more boisterous, the laughter less self-conscious.
“The princess and Mr. Fernandez seem really nice,” Sabrina remarked once they were seated.
“They are,” he said abruptly.
She angled her body away from him, and he regretted his curt response.
They were the first ones to their table. Luca observed her taking in everything. The ornate, gilded ballroom with its French windows, sparkling chandeliers, and marble statues adorning each corner, the women in their elegant gowns and dripping jewels. And then she frowned, this time searching the crowd.
“He’s not here yet.”
She whipped her head to him, fleeting guilt crossing her face before she wiped it away. “Luca, after I talk to Markos-”
Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by new arrivals to the table. Very familiar arrivals.
Raphael had Adriano in tow. Behind them were his cousins Wolf and Johann. All bachelors with no plus ones in sight. Luca groaned silently.
Johann sat beside Sabrina and introduced himself without preamble. “Hello. I’m Johann Jager.” He was looking at Sabrina with obvious delight. “We don’t look like it, but I’m related to your ugly date.”
“Er-Sabrina Connell
y.” She took his proferred hand and shook it gingerly, taking in Johann’s ice blue eyes and blond hair and then glancing at Luca helplessly.
“We’re the German cousins,” Wolf volunteered, sitting beside Johann and surveying the dance floor lazily.
“German-American,” Johann corrected cheerfully.
“Out of my way, pup.” Raphael tapped Johann on the shoulder. He let out an aggrieved sigh and gave up his seat for his older relative, settling beside Wolf.
“Sabrina, meet my brothers Raphael,” he introduced, “and Adriano.”
Raphael smiled politely at Sabrina and then cocked an eyebrow questioningly at Luca.
He ignored Raphael and addressed all his relations in general. “Are you sure we’re all seated in one table?”
“Pretty sure,” Wolf answered, drumming his fingers on the table. He was eyeing Sabrina assessingly.
Luca wanted to take him by the collar of his white shirt and toss him out of a French window. Come to think of it, he wanted to upend the table and send all his male relatives scurrying off to beleaguer other guests. Wolf noted his baleful glare and flashed him an innocent smile that was all white, gleaming teeth.
“I hope they open the bar soon,” Johann quipped. “God, I hope they have beer.”
“I wouldn’t mind sitting at that table.” Adriano tilted his head at a table filled with women without dates. The women tittered when they saw Adriano’s interest.
“They all seem to be older than you, cuz,” Johann observed.
“I don’t discriminate,” Adriano retorted, leaning back against his chair and flashing his admirers a wicked smile.
“How egalitarian of you,” Wolf said slyly.
“Hey,” Adriano cried. He turned to his brothers and then pointed a finger at Wolf. “He’s using big words!”
Luca smiled apologetically at Sabrina. Without bothering to lower his voice, he said, “Adriano’s music teacher whacked him pretty hard with the bow of his violin when he was little. He hasn’t been the same since.”
The rest of the table snickered.
Luca’s ribbing glided like oil on an otter’s skin. Adriano rose to his magnificent height and adjusted his coat. “I would hate to disappoint those lovely ladies so if you gentlemen and Ms. Connelly would excuse me,” he said gallantly, “my audience awaits.”
Everyone watched in fascination as Adriano strode to the women-only table and procured himself a seat. Within seconds, he had the women giggling.
“Unbelievable,” Johann muttered under his breath. He looked envious.
“I thought you weren’t attending the reception,” he said in aside to Raphael.
“Mother’s tired. I had to represent.” He shrugged. “How’s the preparation for the launch coming along?”
They had changed seats after Adriano left. Raphael was now seated on one side of Luca while Wolf moved in on his brother’s vacated seat, ending up at Sabrina’s side.
Wolf was engaging Sabrina in small talk. She looked at ease with him, so he discussed business with Raphael while keeping one ear on their conversation.
It was a sit-down affair. Conversation flowed freely while plate after plate of delicious food was served.
Luca pretended to eat. As each dish was served, his tension began to ratchet up. He had spotted the Konstantinos twins two tables to their left, but there was no sign of Markos himself nor the other brother Mikhalis.
Sabrina was not faring any better. She seemed to be drinking wine more than eating. She was smiling at Wolf’s chitchat, but Luca noted it never quite reached all the way to her eyes.
Dinner ended at last. The lights dimmed and an emcee appeared onstage. The newlywed couple would be opening the dancing to their special song.
Amid applause, the couple took to the dance floor. The band struck the first few chords of music. Sabrina tried to figure out what romantic song it was. Princess Lexie broke into a surprised-looking grin when the singer crooned the first few words. Nic Fernandez nodded laughingly, kissed his wife on the lips, and enfolded her in his arms. They seemed to float and glide gracefully under the spotlight.
“Oh my God. Am I really hearing that Britney Spears song?” It took a few minutes for Sabrina to place the song since it wasn’t the pop version she was used to. She recognized it by the number of “oh baby’s” in the intro.
“I suspect there’s an interesting story behind that song,” Luca murmured, gazing with a fondly amused smile at the couple.
“I’m sure there is.” She hoped she didn’t sound too wistful. She dared a peek at Luca and found he was staring at her intently. She averted her gaze and gulped her wine. She was so tempted to abandon her plan and just whisk Luca away somewhere they could be alone.
The song changed to something else, still a slow one, and now people were joining the couple on the dance floor.
Luca stood with one smooth motion and extended his hand. “Shall we?”
Mutely, she followed him to the center of the ballroom.
She sighed in relief when he placed his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Heaven was a place in Luca’s arms, and she wanted to stay there forever. She couldn’t recall how many songs they danced to. Or what songs they were. She only wished they could’ve stayed on that dance floor all night.
The music shifted to something upbeat. They drew apart.
“I’d better go and look for Markos.” He looked like he wanted to say something more.
“Yes.” She waited for a beat.
He didn’t say anything.
“It’s getting quite late.” She fidgeted with her dress.
He nodded curtly.
“I have to go to the ladies’ room first,” she said.
“I’ll meet you at the bar by the statue of Apollo.” He gestured to one corner of the ballroom where people had congregated.
She craned her neck. “I see it.”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Luca turned on his heel and then disappeared into the crowd.
Sabrina tried to find her way to the nearest bathroom. It was tricky to navigate through the dancing, merry throng as the lights were dimmed. Logically, a bathroom would be near one of the exits, but since the Royal Palace was a few centuries old, Sabrina wasn’t sure what would be a logical floor plan in the 1800s.
She hailed a circulating waiter, who pointed to a side door at a corner of the ballroom. She traversed the dance floor, the shortest distance to her target, dodging couples swaying to the fast rhythm. Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She looked behind her. It was Johann, bopping his head, grinning. He was holding a beer bottle in one hand and gesturing for her to join him, Adriano, and several other ladies who were gyrating to the music. She declined with a smile.
She was near the glass-paneled door. It looked like it opened to a courtyard. She peered closer. Her heart leapt to her throat when she saw a reflection beside hers in the glass.
She whirled around.
“Well, well. If it isn’t little miss gold digger,” Eleni Konstantinos said, tipping her wine goblet to Sabrina in a mocking salute. She was dressed in a black bustier gown and took an exaggerated, wobbly step away from her. “Let me try and appreciate what you’ve been earning on your back.” She raked Sabrina’s dress with an insulting, calculating gaze. “An Argenti couture gown, no less. I’m impressed.”
Sabrina’s heart had managed to slow down from the fright Eleni gave her. “Quite frankly, Eleni, I don’t care what impresses you, what earns your appreciation, or whatever the hell floats your boat. Just stay the hell away from me.”
Eleni’s incongruent, glazed eyes narrowed. “You stay the fucking hell away from Luca.”
“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” she shot back.
“Don’t you think I haven’t tried? The fool is infatuated with you,” Eleni hissed viciously. Then she frowned, as if regretting admitting an unpalatable truth. “He’ll tire of you, Sabrina Connelly,” she said with conviction. “One way or the other, you’ll be out of
the picture.”
“Don’t be too sure of that.” Her uncertainty about her relationship status with Luca was making her lash out.
“Then I’ll make sure there will be no doubt.” The malevolence on Eleni’s face made the hairs on her arms stand on end. “Scared?” she taunted, tottering on her heels.
There was no way she was going to admit a drunk, crazy socialite was scaring her. Eleni couldn’t do anything to her in public, could she? Still, she glanced around covertly, noting how this area of the ballroom was darker. Foot traffic was non-existent. She inched closer to the door.
“Oh no. Don’t leave yet, Miss Connelly. The party’s just started,” Eleni cooed with malice. “Here, have some wine.” With a deft flick of her wrist, she tossed the contents of her glass on Sabrina’s face.
Unable to defend herself in time, the alcohol entered one of her eyes. She blinked furiously, tearing up because the wine smarted. She swiped at her eyelid with her knuckle, unintentionally moving her contact lens so it was now off center. She became disoriented with half of her vision suddenly blurred by the wine and dislodged lens. She felt cool liquid dripping onto the front bodice of her gown.
“Oh dear. Your dress is ruined. There goes your investment. You would have been better off accepting the check after all.”
One eyed or not, Sabrina still had decent aim. And drunk people had slower reflexes. She raised her arm and delivered a stinging slap to Eleni’s cheek.
Sabrina had never imagined violence could be so gratifying. She felt the blood rushing to her veins. She felt primed, pumped up. Bring it on, bitch.
Eleni cradled her abused cheek, her mouth agape, as if she couldn’t believe Sabrina had actually slapped her. Eleni’s shock quickly wore off, though. Sabrina saw it by the narrowing of her eyes. Sabrina felt all her muscles tense, like a cocked bow and arrow.
They both heard it at the same time. A group of people chattering, making their way to their secluded corner.
And suddenly Sabrina realized she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t engage in a catfight with Eleni and ruin the newlyweds’ special day. She couldn’t bear to embarrass Luca to his relatives. But it took a lot of fortitude and deep breathing to turn her back on the crazy woman.
When She Fell for the Billionaire Page 17