Billionaire Without A Past. Carol Marinelli
sold out ages ago.’
Dismissed by Anya, Rachel turned and stared ahead. She could feel Libby trying not to laugh at Anya’s cool acceptance of Rachel’s desire to see her and her absolute shutdown with no offer of tickets!
‘Told you,’ Libby said.
‘You did.’ Rachel sighed.
As they waited for the bride to arrive Libby tried to chat about Rachel’s work, or lack of it.
‘You know that I’ve got a temporary teacher to fill in for me,’ Libby said, ‘but I’m always on the lookout—’
‘Libby,’ Rachel broke in. ‘I don’t want to teach.’
‘Then what will you do?’
‘I’m not sure.’
Her mother had asked her the same question last night with the addition of, ‘I warned you to have something to fall back on.’
Rachel had said nothing at the time but her jaw had gritted. Her mother hadn’t, Rachel was sure, meant another career. Evie Cary fell back onto men. Over and over. All had had money. Evie made sure that the men she dated would keep her in the style she’d like to become accustomed to.
There had been a parade of boyfriends and lovers. Some had lasted a weekend, some a few months. One for a couple of years.
He had walked out on her mother two weeks after Rachel had left home.
Surprise, surprise.
Rachel jerked her mind away from dark memories and tried to focus on the future.
She didn’t need someone or something to fall back on, she wanted to fall into her new life.
Money wasn’t too much of a problem in the short term.
She had worked too hard to spend much and could take some time to figure things out. She looked over at Libby and wondered whether to tell her her idea.
‘I was thinking of starting a blog.’
‘A blog?’ Libby said. ‘Why?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
The pews continued to fill, but to the right and not so much to the left, and it suddenly dawned on Rachel that, given the groom was an orphan...
Libby laughed again as Rachel’s shoulders sagged.
‘I thought the place would be teeming with sexy Russians,’ Rachel sighed.
‘Oh, well, there’s always André,’ Libby said.
‘No.’ Rachel shook her head as Libby spoke of Rachel’s long-term colleague and occasionally intimate friend. ‘Didn’t I tell you? He’s met someone and it’s serious.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep.’ Rachel nodded. ‘They’re getting married in a fortnight.’
‘How didn’t I hear this?’
‘It only just happened.’
‘Well, that’s one wedding you’ll be avoiding,’ Libby said.
Rachel didn’t comment and neither did she tell Libby that it was a wedding she couldn’t avoid. Instead, she looked through the order of service and deliberately tried not to think about André.
‘So who’s he marrying?’ Libby asked, and Rachel longed for Libby to have a sudden contraction, for the bride to arrive, for anything other than give the answer.
It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.
There was more.
Of course there was.
The Cary family had more skeletons in their closets than a graveyard.
‘Rachel?’ Libby pushed for her to answer the question but thankfully there was a stir in the congregation and Daniil said something to Sev in Russian in a shocked voice. At first Rachel assumed the bride had arrived so she turned around.
Oh, my.
Someone as good looking as this man should perhaps have known that he wouldn’t be able to slink into the church unseen.
Tall with dark wavy hair that was worn a touch too long, he caused a stir simply by walking in. Heads had turned.
‘Who,’ Rachael asked Libby, in a voice that had suddenly gone husky, ‘is that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Libby said. ‘It might be...’ Her voice trailed off and Rachel watched as Libby frowned and looked over to the altar, where her husband and the groom stood. Rachel’s gaze followed.
Daniil looked stunned and Sev, the groom, who had been staring ahead, had turned around at Daniil’s instruction.
The shock on their faces was evident and Rachel watched as the two men broke with protocol and strode down the aisle towards this delicious stranger. Everyone was standing now, trying to get a better look. Rachel was on tiptoe, trying to make things out, but she couldn’t.
‘What’s happening?’ Rachel asked.
The only person not paying full attention was Libby.
‘I’m having another one,’ she moaned, and clutched at the pew.
‘They’re miles apart,’ Rachel said in an authoritative tone to keep Libby, who was rather neurotic, calm. Libby, like all dancers, was very body aware, which meant, of course, that every freckle was cancer, every abdominal cramp in advanced pregnancy was labour...
Yikes!
Rachel was starting to stress herself, not that Libby would ever know it.
‘The bride’s just arrived.’ Rachel kept up a running commentary as Libby breathed through the pain. Now that Naomi was here, Rachel assumed that normal services would resume but, no, the groom had brought his bride-to-be over and was now introducing her to this mystery guest.
It was all rather fascinating, Rachel thought, and a brilliant start to the wedding, especially as the bride and groom were sharing a passionate kiss, but at the wrong end of the church.
‘Sev’s getting off with the bride,’ Rachel said. ‘And I think...’
And then she was silent because Daniil had brought the delicious stranger to sit with them.
He was so tall and broad that as he moved into the pew, Libby, who wanted to keep her place near the edge in case she needed a speedy exit, had to shrink back to let him past.
Rachel did the same and got the deep woody trace of his scent as he took his place beside her.
Oh, my!
He must be Roman, Rachel thought.
But, no, that wasn’t right. This guy was tall and dark but he didn’t look like Daniil, and weren’t he and Roman supposed to be identical twins?
She really couldn’t keep up.
‘Libby,’ Daniil said, as the vicar called for order and for the groom to release the bride from his embrace so they could get the service under way. ‘This is Nikolai, he’ll sit with you.’
Now things really were getting confusing, Rachel thought.
‘Don’t let him leave,’ Daniil added, and Rachel suppressed a smile.
Oh, she happily wouldn’t let him out of her sight.
Everyone stood as Sev and Naomi walked down the aisle hand in hand and Rachel frowned as she tried to work it out.
She turned and looked up at the man next to her.
He had black wavy hair and dark velvet brown eyes that did not turn at the awareness of her curiosity.
And Libby was right again—Rachel could be rather tactless at times.
‘Sorry.’