Forbidden Marquis

by Victoria Pinder

  Clara was usually so dowdy in her choices—had Astorre helped her? Rossie hugged her carefully so nothing wrinkled. “Clara, you look amazing.”

  Clara smiled and the two of them joined the guys in the hall and headed toward the elevator as Clara said, “Thanks. Matteo is nice though he doesn't seem in love.”

  Right. While Rossie went to Avce, her friend had stayed behind and she knew the bride and groom. If Astorre married Clara, then Rossie might never lose her best friend. So, she selfishly hoped for them as she said, “Love is a choice.”

  “Or it’s not,” Clara said while they piled into the elevator.

  The men talked to themselves. Rossie lowered her voice but asked, “What do you mean?”

  Clara held her opinion until they were out of the elevator and in the lobby. She looped arms with Rossie and said, “What if there is only one person out there for us, like a soul mate, and all that talk about a choice is just a way of trivializing our emotions so it comes and bites us in the buttocks.”

  What? Rossie’s body grew colder though it was warm as they walked toward their limo. She ignored the goosebumps and said, “Clara, you’re scaring me.”

  “Why?” Clara disappeared into the limo.

  Rossie’s blood was full of adrenaline. She shouldn’t be on edge. She slipped in beside her best friend and said, “I don’t like the “what if” question.”

  Stephano must have heard her, as he gave her a wink.

  He was smart, sweet, sensitive, strong, and everything she’d ever wanted in a man. After the wedding she needed to hold on to him and not let him go.

  The limo took them down one street and they were suddenly at Notre Dame. They could have walked, but then their white ensembles might have gotten a smudge. As they stepped out, Stephano came beside her and a photographer took their picture.

  They started to walk and he rejoined his friend and she clutched Clara’s hand. Clara kept her voice low as they made their way inside but said, “I remember. Sometimes it’s good to reevaluate and let your emotions out. Did you ever cry over Alberto and his cheating on you?”

  Warning sparks flew under her skin. Crying didn’t fix anything. She turned and saw Stephano was right behind her. “No. I don’t need to. I have Stephano now.”

  Clara stayed quiet as the men checked them in. Stephano then guided them to their seats near the front. Clara asked in a whisper so low it didn’t echo in the church, “How can you be happy with him if you’re not entirely emotionally available?”

  Fair. Rossie’s face felt hot, but she traced Stephano’s back as she stepped into the pew and said, “I am. To him.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Clara scooted beside her.

  The four of them had front row seats to Matteo’s wedding.

  The music started and they stood. Rossie had no idea who the bride was, so she watched a woman with a heavy veil walk down the rose petal filled aisle.

  Everything was beautiful, though she wished she could see the bride’s face.

  Matteo took her hand in his and then lifted the veil.

  The blonde woman was stunning, but everyone around her gasped. Rossie tugged on her husband’s arm and asked, “Stephano, what’s happening?”

  “That’s not Patrice, Matteo’s girlfriend.” Stephano said. “She wasn’t supposed to be the bride as far as I know.”

  The chatter behind her made sense now as she asked, “What’s happening exactly?”

  Stephano and Astorre shared a look with the groom, but then Stephano said, “That’s not Matteo’s girlfriend. That’s Sheena.”

  “Who is Sheena?” Rossie studied the bride and groom as they quickly talked to each other, ignoring the crowded church.

  Stephano quietly explained, “She was an artist back in boarding school. Chelsea was friends with her, but she used to be rather plain-looking and pale. None of us talked to her. She was nerdy.”

  I’m still plain looking. Rossie shook off the thought and then blinked as the bride and groom took hands and signaled for the priest to continue.

  Rossie didn’t understand. “So why hasn’t he walked away and ended the wedding?”

  Stephano shrugged. “It seems he’s marrying her.”

  Her husband and Astorre nodded at each other but stood like sentinels as the crowd slowly calmed down. Rossie glanced across the aisle and saw Chelsea and Cassidy waving at the bride.

  Something unexpected must have happened.

  As the crowd took their seats and watched the wedding, Rossie whispered to Stephano, “Why would Matteo switch last minute?”

  Stephano’s hand was on her lower back as he said, “Matteo’s birthday is days after mine. He only has two weeks left.”

  Her own heart nearly stopped. Stephano would have married anyone too. She swallowed and wished her skin didn’t feel electric as she asked, “What happened to his girlfriend?”

  He shrugged as the bride and groom said their ‘I do’s.’ Once they finished he said, “I’ve no idea. We’ll ask at the party.”

  Right. She kept quiet and watched the rest of the wedding.

  Both the bride and the groom stayed distant and the kiss at the end was fast--they each looked horrified.

  When it was over, the new couple filed past them so quickly that Rossie understood the bride and groom intended a serious talk, away from prying eyes.

  The rest of the guests must have felt the same as it was solemn and quiet as they left the church.

  Outside, the limos were lined up to take them to the hotel for the party, but on the sidewalk, Alberto in his blue jeans and green t-shirt waved at her. She hugged Stephano’s arm and said, “Stephano, it’s Alberto again. Give me one minute, but don’t go anywhere.”

  Clara, between Astorre and Stephano, said, “I’ll stay here but if you need me to flag down a car, say the word.”

  Just like a few days ago when Clara had driven her out of her own wedding disaster.

  Speaking of, her mother hadn’t shown up. Rossie glanced around and didn’t see her, but she walked toward Alberto and half-expected news about her mom. “Alberto, why are you following me around?”

  “There is something I needed to say.” He pocketed his hands.

  So this wasn’t about her mother—Rossie would check on her flight in the car. Rossie’s gaze narrowed as she asked, “What would that possibly be?” But then behind him she saw a blonde woman walking over to join them. Rossie’s hand went to her heart as she asked, “Wait, is that Abigail?”

  “She flew to Paris to chase me,” Alberto said. “She says she loves me.”

  Love? Rossie called over his shoulder, “Abigail, he’s all yours.”

  She thought of Stephano. His words about his thirtieth birthday being close as a reason to marry hit her hard. Her stomach had rocks in it, but she took a step in his direction. Alberto said, “Rossie, wait.”

  “What?” She faced him one last time.

  Alberto seemed smaller than she remembered. He lowered his head like a schoolboy caught cheating on a test. “You deserve better than me. I shouldn’t have been so arrogant yesterday. I’m sorry I hurt you but don’t cry—you’ll ruin your makeup and you probably don’t want your new husband to see the real you.”

  Boom. Alberto knew what she looked like. Her eyes felt glassy. No. She’d never cry. Not here. She took a deep breath, nodded and said, “Goodbye.”

  As she returned to Stephano’s side her cheeks felt wet. She sniffed but more tears flowed. Stephano hugged her close. “Rosalind, what’s wrong?”

  His skin felt hot. Being with him should be the happiest thing, but all she could do was stand there as tears streamed.

  Clara cleared her throat. “Stephano, can I bring Rossie back into the church? She’ll want to wash her face.”

  Rossie nodded fast. Clara knew her well. She wiped her face and her hands were damp. “Please give me one minute.”

  “Okay.” Stephano glared at Alberto over her head.

  And Alberto had already replaced h
er. The story would soon be how he deserved better than her--she shouldn’t care what anyone said anymore. She shouldn’t. But her heart raced. She followed Clara back inside and right toward a bathroom. Clara held the door open for her. The moment she slipped inside, waterworks began in earnest. She hugged the wall as Clara raced past her into a stall. Rossie called out, “Clara!”

  Her best friend returned with tissues in her hand that she used to wipe Rossie’s face as she said, “I saw. He’s such a jerk.”

  More tears dripped. Rossie never cried. This didn’t make her feel better she thought as she pressed against the wall. “Why wasn’t I good enough?”

  Clara blotted Rossie's face and said, “Sweetie, you’ve been telling me all along that Stephano is a better choice.”

  “He is.” Rossie continued to wail. She needed the wall to hold her up as she sobbed into the tissues. “He’s way better than me, but he only married me because he was desperate.”

  Clara brought fresh tissues and continued to clean Rossie’s face. She sounded cool and calm and logical. “And you married him to run away from your feelings.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Rossie said. At last the waterworks stopped.

  Clara opened Rossie’s purse and fished out her makeup kit as she asked, “Then why do you care about Alberto?”

  Rossie took her travel kit and tried to breathe as she clutched it closer. “I… I don’t know.”

  Clara threw away the tissue and went for more as she said, “Well, your husband is outside and I have to say, you are right about him.”

  Right. Rossie balanced against the wall, and transitioned to the narrow counter and sink, and the mirror.

  Her eyes were puffy and blood shot.

  If she didn’t fix her face, everyone would see how ugly she was. She took a deep breath and her hands trembled as she unzipped her kit. “I am?”

  Clara dug a skin refresher out her own pocketbook that Rossie’d gifted her for her birthday months ago. She sprayed Rossie’s face and the cool mist was instant relief. “He’s a better choice than Alberto. I actually like him so I’m not just holding my tongue.”

  Rossie took out her eyeliner and traced her edges with a firm hand now, so she’d look dramatic again. “I do too. He says he’s happy he married me and not Chelsea or anyone else.”

  In makeup she knew what to do and before long she matted her cheeks. No one would know she’d cried except from her bloodshot eyes themselves as Clara hummed and said, “I like him even more for you then if he sees how special you are.”

  “But-” Rossie put her makeup away--her skin glowed again.

  Clara pressed against her arm as she said, “Focus on your future, sweetie.”

  “You’re right.” Rossie finished packing her makeup. The zips in her body made her hyperaware they were in a plain public bathroom probably used by thousands of tourists, yet she and Clara wore couture. She tried to laugh off the absurdity as she said, “Yeah, I don’t really believe that though. Not really. Stephano wouldn't have chosen me if he wasn’t on a deadline. He had to marry and I was just there.”

  Clara checked the pins of her dress to ensure it didn’t drag on the bathroom floor and said, “That doesn’t mean you can’t move on and be happy.”

  Impossible. Clara had known her for years now but she didn’t know how deep her flaws were. No one did. She didn’t let anyone see the truth. Rossie packed her pocketbook and placed it at her side, then smoothed her hair in place. “You were right. I should have let myself cry before going off to get married.”

  Clara shook her head. “Don’t start listening to me now.”

  Rossie swallowed stale air and headed toward the door to get out of there as she said, “I have to. I think I was wrong. Love does exist and it’s not just a choice. And I made a huge mistake.”

  Clara ran and stayed next to her as she said, “Stephano is a good guy, though.”

  Fair and he needed to get his chance at happily-ever-after. Rossie walked down the empty hall they’d fled through earlier as she glanced at the holy cross inside the cathedral. Doing the right thing now was better than never. Rossie then told her friend, “He is, and he deserves better than me. I have to tell him our wedding was a mistake.”

  Clara frowned. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

  “It’s the best I can do. I need to clear my head. I’ve been to too many weddings and I could see that love existed half the time. I’m so stupid and followed my impulses instead of using smart judgment.” Rossie ignored how fast her heart beat.

  It was time to face facts. Rossie wasn’t supposed to marry a foreign noble. She needed to stop living in some delusion. Maybe one day she’d deserve love and not be so plain that she married someone desperate to say yes to anyone. For now though at least her makeup was fixed and she had the illusion of being good enough. The shield would last for her getaway, which was all she needed.

  Rossie ignored the late afternoon sun that was still bright though the streetlights were coming on. Soon Paris would be showing it’s moniker as the City of Lights. She squared her shoulders and walked over to Stephano, who stood proud and tall in his white shirt, that almost made him seem like an angel.

  But she didn’t deserve an angel. She was far from perfect. She tapped his shoulders and said, “Stephano, we need to talk.”

  As he turned toward her, she immediately softened and threw her arms open to hug her mom as Stephano said, “Your mother, Barbara, is here.”

  “Mom!” Rossie held her tight and got a hint of those breath mints her mother always chewed when traveling as she claimed it helped deter her hunger. Her mother's soft hug calmed her slightly.

  Her mother always just knew when Rossie needed her most. Barbara had showed up in the elementary school yard the day Alberto and his friends stuck their gum in her hair and made her cry, and now she was here just in the nick of time. As Rossie let her go, her mother straightened her white gown and said, “My flight was delayed. I’m glad I caught up with you here before we go to the wedding of people I don’t know. I’m feeling awkward in white.”

  The all-white theme was proving to be an amazingly beautiful symbol. She took her mother’s hand and the adrenaline in her veins lessened slightly as she held her. “Mom, I’m glad you’re here.” But then she said, “Stephano, we need to talk.”

  He held up his hand toward the limos but took her other hand.

  Clara joined them from behind and immediately said, “Mrs. Diaz, it’s good to see you.”

  Stephano wrapped his arms around her waist and directed them to the line of vehicles. “We’ll talk inside the limo. Let’s get to Matteo and Sheena’s reception.”

  Her fingers curled into fists at her side, but she walked beside him, ignoring her own trembling body. Her mother, Astorre and Clara went first, but as Rossie slipped into the limo, Clara whispered, “Rossie, don’t do anything drastic.”

  “Drastic? My daughter?” Her mother said dryly as Stephano sat beside her. “Rossie’s always been impulsive.”

  Her skin buzzed. Stephano deserved the best. He was everything any woman might want. Sexy, strong, sweet, sensual and so much more all wrapped up into being a prince among men. Her stomach was in knots as she patted her mother’s hand and said, “Mom, it will be fine.”

  Her mother peered at her as the limo took off. Rossie stayed still as her mother studied her, but then she sat back and said, “Your eyes are bloodshot. Have you been crying?”

  Clara quickly said, “She spoke to Alberto.”

  The limo stopped at their hotel. Rossie’s neck felt hot. She’d have been better off if she’d just walked the block. She wiped her brow as the door opened and Astorre slipped out and offered his hand to help Clara while her mother said, “He’s such a fool. I never liked him much and I’m happy my daughter married you, Stephano.”

  If I walk now, do I still have a chance to let him find his own true love out there? One that was everything he wanted and deserved? She held her breath as she stared out the wi
ndow, wondering if she’d get a chance to run upstairs if she needed to and grab her pocketbook as she said the obvious, “The reception is at our hotel?”

  “Matteo wants the best as well.” Stephano took her hand—meaning, Stephano wanted the best. She wasn’t and never would qualify. Fraud was the best term for her. She clutched his hand a little tighter as they glided through the lobby and toward a ballroom.

  The cream walls and white marble floor sparkled but the gold colored overlays on the tables and gold soft lights on the walls made the ballroom sparkle.

  Normally she worked at fancy weddings. She adjusted her rose necklace but then she saw the groom waving at them. Her heart still raced from her nerves and she needed to talk to her mother in private. She was about to say something, but the beautiful Chelsea walked over to them and pointed Stephano toward the groom as she said, “Stephano. Astorre. Matteo probably needs his friends.”

  “Thanks, Chelsea.” Stephano let Rossie’s arm go as he kissed her cheek. “Rossie, can you give me ten minutes and then I’m all yours?”

  “Of course.” She wished that hadn’t sounded so fast. She hadn’t meant to sound eager.

  But he nodded at her and walked toward a side room to his friend and the groom.

  Clara and her mother joined her and the three of them headed to table number three, where they were assigned. Clara said, “Rossie, don’t be dramatic and do something you’ll regret.”

  “I don’t.” Rossie’s cheeks heated and she watched the swish of her dress as she walked.

  Her mother pointed to chairs at the table and directed them to sit while Clara walked beside her and said, “You’re impulsive. We all know that. But don’t let your impulses ruin your chances at happily-ever-after.”

  “What’s going on?” Her mother asked as the three of them took their seats.

  Rossie’s skin buzzed. She needed to be the one who told her mother what had happened. “Mother, Stephano needed to marry fast.”

  Her mother shrugged and sipped her water in a crystal goblet before her. “I understand. I read the news. I can’t wait to see Avce.”