The Billionaire's Contract Bride. Carol Marinelli
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Her skin was stinging as she stood next to him, every nerve in her being standing rigid to attention, so painfully aware of his close proximity. But all too soon it was over; the procession had dutifully passed, allowing him to slip into the pew in front and Tabitha to finally breathe again.
He moved directly into the seat reserved next to Amy, and by the way her hand coiled possessively around his she was only too pleased to see him.
Tabitha found herself letting out a disappointed sigh while simultaneously admonishing herself for overreacting. Well, what did you expect? she reasoned. That someone as utterly gorgeous as that would be here alone?
Only she wasn’t talking about Amy Dellier.
‘Dearly beloved…’
The congregation hushed as the service started, but it held no interest for Tabitha. Instead her attention was entirely focused on the delicious sight of the man who had sat himself in front of her. His thick hair was beautifully cut and absolutely black, without even a single grey hair. It sharply tapered into a thick, strong and tanned neck, and his suit was superbly cut over his wide shoulders. As they stood to sing the first hymn Tabitha stared, mesmerised, her eyes unashamedly flicking downward. Despite her height, Amy Dellier seemed almost petite beside her partner; he was incredibly tall. It was no wonder she could get away wearing heels with him around.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Aiden whispered into her ear as the congregation sang heartily.
‘What are you talking about?’ Tabitha flushed, snapping her attention to the hymn book she was holding in front of her.
It didn’t work. ‘You’re supposed to be on page forty-five, Tab.’ Aiden grinned. ‘That, my dear, is my brother Zavier.’
‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’
But Aiden had known her far too long to be fobbed off. ‘You know exactly who I’m talking about, Tabitha, and take it from me—he’d crush you in the palm of his hand.’
Tabitha winced at the expression. ‘Meaning?’
‘Just that. Zavier might be a dream to look at, but he’s bad news.’
Their heads were huddled over the hymn book, and they spoke out of the sides of their mouths, but it wasn’t enough to prevent a few withering looks being cast in their direction. ‘Then it’s just as well I’m not interested,’ Tabitha hissed.
Aiden gave her a knowing look. ‘On your head be it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
She sang tunelessly, her eyes straying all too often to the delectable diversion so achingly close in front of her. Despite her recent aversion to weddings, this one was turning out to be a sheer pleasure; even the endless wait while the happy couple went off to sign the register passed in a blur of delicious fantasy. Never had she felt such a strong physical attraction to someone—someone she knew absolutely nothing about. He was completely unattainable, of course. Way, way out of her league.
Despite her protests, Tabitha had to admit that hobnobbing with the seriously rich had its perks. There was no question of standing bored and thirsty as the photographer clicked away for hours. Instead, a small marquee had been set up in Melbourne’s Botanical Gardens and delicious fruit and champagne were being served as the family mingled, disappearing when the photographer called them to do their duty.
Accepting a glass of champagne, Tabitha smiled as she was introduced to Aiden’s parents. Despite Aiden’s gloomy descriptions, Tabitha was instantly won over and utterly in awe of Aidan’s mother, Marjory, who oozed glamour and wealth.
‘A lovely wedding, wasn’t it? Though I’m not sure Simone’s dress was quite the part. I really don’t think thigh-length splits are appropriate attire in a church. What did you think, Jeremy darling?’
Jeremy Chambers had none of his wife’s effervescence. His black eyes were as guarded as Zavier’s, his haughty face as stern and unyielding as his favourite son’s. ‘She looked like any of the other brides I’ve seen this year,’ he answered loudly, not remotely bothered who overheard him.
‘I know the feeling,’ Tabitha groaned, then instantly regretted her comment. ‘I’ve been to rather too many weddings myself this summer,’ she offered by way of explanation, taking a good slurp of her champagne. As Jeremy’s stern gaze turned to her she wished that she’d stayed quiet, but Jeremy actually smiled.
‘Tell me about it,’ he said gloomily. ‘How many have you been to?’
‘Ten,’ Tabitha exaggerated, then did a quick mental calculation. ‘Well, six, at the very least,’ she added, rolling her eyes. ‘All my friends seem to have taken the plunge en masse.’
‘That’s just the start of it,’ Jeremy said knowingly. ‘The next few years will be taken up with christenings, and before you know where you are all your friends’ children are getting married and the whole merry-go-round starts again. Marjory loves weddings, unlike me, and feels duty-bound to attend each and every one—no matter how distant the relative. Speaking of which, I’d best go and say hello to a few. It was a pleasure meeting you, Tabitha.’ He went to shake her hand, but halfway there seemed to change his mind and instead kissed her on the cheek, much to Aiden’s wide-eyed amazement.
‘My goodness, you’ve actually made a hit—my father doesn’t usually like anyone.’
‘He seems charming,’ Tabitha scolded. ‘I can’t believe all the awful things you’ve said about him.’
‘He is charming, if you happen to be the right son—and talk of the devil…’
‘Zavier!’ Marjory exclaimed, kissing him warmly on the cheek. ‘I thought you weren’t ever going to make it to the church. Where on earth did you get to?’
‘Where do you think I got to?’ Tabitha noticed his haughty demeanour was somewhat softened when he addressed his mother. ‘I was working.’
‘But it’s Saturday,’ Marjory protested. ‘Not that that ever stopped you, Zavier. But that’s quite enough about work—I, for one, intend to enjoy myself today. Have you met Tabitha, Aiden’s darling, er…’ the pause was interminable, but Marjory eventually recovered. ‘…er, friend?’
Aiden took a hefty swig of his drink, avoiding Tabitha’s eyes. Only Zavier’s gaze stayed steadily trained on her.
‘Briefly, in the church.’ He offered his hand and she shook it gingerly, noticing how hot and strong his grip was.
‘Where’s Lucy?’ Marjory asked.
‘Amy,’ Zavier corrected, ‘is touching up her make-up.’
‘Lovely girl,’ Marjory said warmly. ‘She’d make a beautiful bride.’
‘Subtle as a brick, as always,’ Zavier groaned.
‘Well, what choice do I have? I’ve got two sons in their thirties,’ she said, her eyes on Tabitha, ‘and not even the tiniest hint at a wedding, let alone grandchildren. Simone’s barely twenty; no wonder Carmella’s grinning from ear to ear.’
‘The reason she’s grinning is because Simone’s actually managed to nab someone rich enough to get them out of debt—not because of her daughter’s eternal happiness.’
‘Ahh!’ Marjory wagged a playful finger. ‘Being out of debt practically ensures eternal happiness.’
‘For you, perhaps,’ Zavier quipped. ‘Anyway, given that you can’t even get Amy’s name right, I think that says a lot for your motives. Forget it.’
‘It would make your father so proud.’
Tabitha was actually enjoying the conversation. She liked the gentle verbal sparring between mother and son, and even Zavier didn’t seem so formidable up against the feisty Marjory. But as she mentioned his father suddenly the temperature seemed to drop, and the affectionate, teasing reply that Tabitha eagerly awaited never came.