Forbidden Marquis

by Victoria Pinder

  Forbidden Marquis

  Princes of Avce

  Victoria Pinder

  Forbidden Monsieur

  Copyright©2018

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Copyright © 2018 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book

  All rights reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  This book is dedicated to both the Heart of Denver Romance Writers and Colorado Romance Writers who are two great groups that have made me feel welcome in moving. Both groups have been great as a way of meeting romance writers.

  Contents

  Series information

  Join Victoria Pinder

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Forbidden Princes and Forbidden Lords

  Also by Victoria Pinder

  About the Author

  Please check out the entire Princes of Avce Series and get caught up.

  Princes of Avce

  Forbidden Crown

  Forbidden Prince

  Forbidden Royal

  Forbidden Duke

  Forbidden Earl

  Forbidden Monsieur

  Forbidden Marquis

  Forbidden Count

  Forbidden Noble

  Princes of Avce 1-3

  Princes of Avce 4-6

  Join Victoria Pinder

  Victoria Pinder wants to hear from you! If you’re on social media, please friend her.

  Join Victoria’s Bold and Foxy Street Team

  You can also find her and get the latest updates including release dates if you

  Sign up for her newsletter and get a FREE novella.

  Follow on Facebook

  Follow on Twitter

  Rossie Diaz stepped away from the wedding photographer and headed toward the bridal suite of her church, waving off her bridesmaids and her mother.

  She needed to be alone.

  Inside the bridal suite, she motioned for her coworkers and her morning work crew of hair and makeup to leave because she needed a minute. They'd already created a magical setting and made her look like a princess, so why was she having a hard time? Everyone left without comment.

  Rossie sniffed the fragrant bouquet of pink roses, and then held it like she would when she walked down the aisle. She focused on Alberto Navarro, but her hands clenched, strangling the flowers. In middle school, he’d pointed and laughed at her when she walked out of class like she was beneath him and his friends.

  The memory came from nowhere and she shook it off.

  She put the bouquet back in its holder and glided toward the mirror.

  The white gown floated all around her, fashioned after the future queen of England’s dress but with the short sleeves of the cartoon version of Cinderella when she went to the ball.

  The dress showed off her curves exceptionally well and the lace overlay seamlessly ended at her waist that flared out just as a princess’ dress might.

  She leaned closer into the mirror and fixed her eyebrow so both were perfectly aligned as she’d done for countless brides before being one herself.

  So why couldn’t she breathe when she thought about Alberto?

  A knock sounded at the door and her body grew more alert. Rossie walked across the room and opened the door to her best friend, and maid of honor, Clara. The teal tea-length bridesmaid dress fit like a dream and her mousy brown hair was styled to perfection today. However, her face was white and her lips thinned despite how makeup had spent hours working on her. She pointed with her fingers to come inside and Rossie let her in as Clara said, “Rossie, you look so beautiful.”

  Rossie closed the door and engaged the lock. Clara held up her older model cell phone that Rossie had given her. “Clara, what’s wrong? What do you have?”

  Clara clutched the phone but her hand trembled as she held it higher as if to give it to her. “Rossie, we’re best friends, which is why I thought you should know before…”

  Without another word, Rossie took the phone and flipped through the pictures. There was Alberto, naked, clutching and kissing her bridesmaid that he’d claimed was his cousin. Her cheeks felt hot as she handed the phone back to Clara. “He cheated on me with Abigail?”

  Clara cringed and her face went from pale to red. She took the phone back. “Abigail told me last night that she wasn’t his cousin, but I thought she was being stupid and drunk, until she sent me these just now, and I saw this, I didn’t think…”

  “Why didn’t you tell me last night?” Rossie pressed down on her chest to stop her heart from beating so fast. Her actions didn’t work and her temper blazed with fury.

  She glared at her best friend, but then she blinked. This wasn’t Clara’s fault. Rossie un-fisted her hands at her side as Clara said, “I didn’t believe her. But then she texted these.”

  Getting a grip would be good. Red hot anger fueled her body. Rossie took a backward step, letting the adrenaline rush through her as she imagined herself knocking Alberto out with a one-two punch.

  The image made her laugh. She’d never hit anyone before. Clara widened her eyes, stared at her and asked, “What are you going to do?”

  A fight wouldn’t help, not even to make herself feel better. Rossie continued to laugh like a crazy person until she said, “Cancel the wedding.”

  Clara stepped forward and clasped her hand. Rossie focused on her best friend. Her touch was steady and calm. “Wait. I don’t want bad blood between us.”

  Rossie would have done the exact same thing if she’d been in Clara’s shoes. She hugged her tight and her mind cleared of her foolishness. “Clara, you told me the truth.” She let her go. “I need my mother and to get out of this church.”

  Clara nodded like she’d been given an order as a private in the army. She lifted her palm. “Wait here with the door closed. I’ll bring them in.”

  Wait? Before Rossie could say a word her friend took off.

  If she stayed here for long, she’d break down and cry. This was too much. She returned to the mirror and took out the pins that held her tiara and veil in place.

  The wedding was off. Rossie didn’t need fabric falling into her face. She freed the last bobby pin and put it gently on the table like she was helping one of her hair designers, always careful not to ruin the makeup on one of her high-end customers, but then she tossed the veil on the floo
r.

  Gentleness was for other brides--and it wasn’t for today.

  The door handle rattled and she stood taller, feeling every vertebrae tighten as she turned toward the door. Her mother walked in with that proud streak of gray in her dark hair and instantly she pouted as she said, “Rossie, why did you take your veil off? You worked so hard this morning-”

  “Mama, I’m not getting married.” Rossie realized she sounded calmer and more collected than she felt. She walked over to her mother, looked at her without blinking once and took her hands. “Alberto is exactly what you said all along.”

  Her mother’s eyes had a brightness of knowledge that Rossie hadn’t seen in a while. Mom pointed her toward the door and said, “Change at home.”

  And that was how Rossie was strong. Her mother and father had raised her with the belief that weakness was the most unattractive thing about anyone and Rossie Diaz needed to be strong and sure of herself.

  Now she needed to prove to her mother she wasn’t crazy or needy. She’d shed no tears or dishonor her, not now, but she shook her head and said, “No, Mama.”

  Her mother crossed her arms. “Wait, what?”

  Rossie pointed to Clara and her wheeled luggage in the corner. “I’ll change at the airport. Can you get the bag in your car, Clara?”

  Clara nodded and left with the wheeled suitcase that mostly had Rossie’s makeup. She’d never leave her business supplies behind. Once Clara closed the door, she said to her mother, “I need to tell him that it is over, but will you make sure Alberto doesn’t head to Paris? I’m taking Clara instead.”

  Her mother made a pfft sound like she was ready for anything thrown at her. “With pleasure.”

  “Okay, call him in.” Rossie unbuttoned one of her delicate white fabric buttons that cut into her shoulders.

  Her mother opened the door to leave. Rossie knocked the rose bouquet off the stand and into the empty waste bucket beside it, which was where everything Alberto had ever said belonged.

  Her mother’s left eyebrow rose. “Why?”

  Rossie’s lips pressed together to hold in the fire that burned in her gut until she was sure she could speak. “Because I need to tell him to his face we’re done.”

  Her mother stood just outside of the suite. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Rossie took off the princess cut diamond ring in white gold.

  The door closed and she folded her fingers around the band.

  Alberto had said he’d picked it out, but now she imagined him shopping with Abigail, the perfect blonde, blue-eyed girl from the suburbs. Judging. Laughing at Rossie.

  Rossie blinked and the image of Abigail dissipated like bad lighting in a night club.

  She sat on the stool and took off her high heels, searching for her flats she’d worn for most of the morning, when the door opened. She stood fast and tensed as she met the brown-eyed gaze of her lanky groom who never gained a pound. He stepped inside and asked, “Rossie, isn’t it bad luck to call me in here?”

  Seriously? He closed the door and acted like he had any right to speak? She stampeded toward him and then took his hand, palm up and dropped the ring in it as she said, “It might be if we were getting married.”

  His fingers closed around the ring and he ran his other hand through his slicked hair. “All our guests have arrived.”

  No. He’d not victimize himself. Her gaze would be laser beams that blew him out of the water if she was a superhero and not your regular person. She could feel the heat steaming from her skin and her fists curled as she lifted her chin. “How is Abigail?”

  His eyes widened as he asked, “What?”

  Ugh. She wanted to throw something at him, but instead she ran her hand through her updo like she was checking for an extra pin as she glared at him. “I know she’s not your cousin.”

  Alberto took a step forward and offered both of his open palms, showing her that horrible ring. “She means nothing to me.”

  Her skin ticked like she was surrounded by a snake. She stepped back, but held her head high as she asked, “Did you tell her that when she was in your bed?”

  He pocketed his hands and her dress swished as she passed him to walk out the door. He said sharply, “She wasn’t in my bed. I was in hers.”

  Rossie turned around but held the knob as her mother had done a moment ago. “I don’t even want to know. I just want to forget you.”

  She opened the door to storm out as he said, “Rossie, I love you.”

  From the open doorway, she heard a crack of wood as people turned in their chairs. She wouldn’t let him make her feel guilty when this was his fault. She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Then you wouldn’t have cheated on me.” Rossie made it to the hall.

  Alberto followed her and raised his voice. “Rossie, you’re so perfect all the time. Not all of us can be like you.”

  The older couple in the back row of the church turned and stared at her. Butterflies grew in her tummy and she waved like she was still hosting the wedding but then turned back to Alberto. “I’m not looking for perfect, but I deserve love and loyalty.”

  “You’re being childish, leaving me now,” he said so everyone in the church heard.

  The entire congregation stood and stared at her.

  Her cousins in the backseat of the other row took out their cell phones to record her. Her mother stood at the door ensuring no one dared join her right now. Rossie shrugged and stepped backwards as she made a peace sign for her cousin’s video feed and then told Alberto, “I don’t need to answer that. Goodbye.”

  As she closed the church doors behind her, she knew she only had seconds before people crowded her as her mother would stop Alberto from leaving.

  Luckily Clara had pulled her 1990s rusty green sedan that needed to be junk-piled to the front of the church, with her behind the wheel. Without a word, Rossie hopped into the front seat and pointed toward the road as guests called her name behind her. “Clara, let’s go.”

  Thankfully Clara didn’t ask many questions as they weaved out of the palm tree-lined side streets and headed toward Collins and the beach. Once they were far away from anyone they knew, Clara asked, “Where are we going?”

  Right. Rossie went to lean back on the head rest, but Clara didn’t have them. She held her head higher and stared at her friend’s mousy brown hair and big glasses. Clara worked too hard and had so little, but she had the biggest heart in the world. Rossie sucked in her breath and said, “I have two first class tickets to Paris. And you have a passport with no stamps.”

  Clara shook her head and her face went white. “I can’t afford-”

  The honeymoon in Paris had been Rossie’s idea. She’d planned it in more detail than her own aborted wedding. “Everything is paid for. And I need company.”

  Clara bit her lip. Rossie didn’t say anything as the emotions Clara had clearly went to war. Clara was the worst poker player in the world, but she turned her beat-up old car inland on Oakland. “Okay. We’ll have to stop at my place. I’ll need one minute.”

  “Not a problem.” Rossie closed her eyes. Her heart still beat too fast. Clearly she was pumped on energy, but soon she’d have to figure out how to handle whatever she did next.

  Once the anger left, she’d run out of fuel. Clara would at least keep her grounded while she figured out what to do.

  As her friend parked her car near a chain of restaurants and her brakes rolled a little, Rossie felt slightly guilty. If Clara had skill, she’d have hired her to work with her. Working weddings paid well enough to buy a car, but Clara wasn’t interested in weddings or makeup or hair.

  Clara held out a hand and raced between the restaurants to the small stairway that led to her studio apartment.

  Rossie didn’t bother following. Her body itched in the gown, but as she looked in the backseat she didn’t see her suitcase. It must be in the trunk.

  Clara returned before Rossie could even figure out how to open the passenger door from the inside. C
lara showed her the passport. “I’m so excited to see Paris.”

  From her phone, Rossie went online and canceled Alberto’s ticket and had her travel agent rebook under Clara Fortuna. Once Clara was behind the wheel, Rossie said, “Thank you for saving me back there. This trip is seriously the least I can do.”

  Clara’s smile grew brighter than Rossie had ever seen as she headed back toward Miami and the traffic of the highway. She tapped the steering wheel as she said, “In a few hours, we’ll be at the Eiffel Tower.”

  At least the air conditioner still cranked cold air in Clara's bucket-of-bolts car. Rossie took a deep breath and tried to focus on anything but what had just happened. Goodness, she should have changed as the dress now dug into her skin. “Is that what you want to see first?”

  Clara dodged incoming traffic like the Miami driver pro she clearly was. “Yes, but it’s your hon-” Both of them froze, but then Clara quickly said, “vacation. You get to pick.”

  She’d hoped that kissing Alberto under the moonlight while in Paris would give their relationship a much needed shot of desire. Now she let out a snort and said to her friend, “We can and should see the Eiffel Tower. It sounds like the perfect place to relaunch myself.”

  Clara took the exit and passed homeless people on the street as she headed toward the airport and avoided the tolls. “Relaunch?”

  Clara drove fast and efficiently. Rossie was hyper-aware of people on the street pushing shopping carts and she wanted to escape and get out of her conspicuous dress and expensive jewels. “I’m clearly an idiot when it comes to love. I don’t want to ever date another Alberto again.”