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“You’re welcome to be as fancy or casual as you like as the bride and groom,” Ilsa began. “Of course, we’re not likely to get alterations accomplished by tomorrow afternoon when we board the boat. And the reception is last-minute.” She tapped her fingers on her notebook. “How about this? If you don’t mind me inserting myself even further into your special day, why don’t we go shopping and grab a bite of lunch? I’m sure we can find exactly what you both need for tomorrow night.”

It was an offer Trina didn’t dare turn down. Relief brought a smile to her face, lightened the growing pressure across her shoulders. “I’d love that, thank you.”

“Awesome, I’ll let the guys know you’re with me.”

“Wonderful.” She should’ve thought to reach out to Rhett. Trina needed to make more of an effort to behave like an invested bride. She had examples of happy couples to emulate. Back home, on Brookwell, many of her new friends had husbands or significant others and they all checked in often with one another. She and Rhett were a team now.

For better or worse.

When she thought of it like that, the two of them against a skeptical world, she got more enthused about playing her part. It was easier to think of this situation as another competition. Rhett might already be doing the same thing.

Well, she had all the motivation to win—with him as a partner rather than an opponent this time—because one thing remained the same: losing would be disastrous.

From her purse, her work phone chimed. “Work,” she explained. “Pardon me. I’ll only be a minute.”

“Take your time.” Ilsa waved off the interruption.

She knew no one on her staff would bother her unless it was something serious.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ms. Bollani, I’ve got a VIP situation.” Maria, the day manager, sounded as if she was gritting her teeth. “The guest who arrived early last night?—”

“Mr. Gallo,” Trina clarified, cringing on the inside.

“Yes, ma’am.” Maria paused. “He isn’t satisfied with the room, claims the gift basket is a disappointment, and he is determined that you are somewhere on the property.”

What an ass.Trina’s teeth locked as she held in that and more unpleasant responses.

“I’ve offered a tour package and dinner reservations, but he insists on speaking with you.”

“My apologies, Maria. You’re doing exactly what needs to be done.” Maybe if she was lucky, Luca would go stay at another hotel until she returned—married and out of his reach.

“I’ll call him and see how I can help. Please text me his number.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Her relief was palpable, even through the phone.

Trina deliberately smiled to veil her rising tension. This was her job, to back up her people. If Luca couldn’t be civil, it would be an excellent excuse to give him the boot. “You’re amazing, Maria. Don’t forget it.”

“I’ve told him you were called away on business,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “He refuses to believe me. He’stelling anyone who will listen that you’ve been expecting him and promised to make time to show him the sights.”

Which meant he was telling everyone on the staff since she’d trained them to be friendly and approachable. She closed her eyes, searched for a thread of patience. “He’s a family friend, though right now it shames me to admit it.” And he’d never be a friend of hers again. “I’ll think of something,” she assured Maria. She refused to ask any of her friends to help welcome a man she didn’t want to see at all. “I’ll call him now and hopefully he won’t trouble you any further.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bollani.”

“Thank you,” she said. “And have a better day.”

With Maria’s soft chuckle lingering in her ear, Trina stared out the window. The sunshine and flowers were an afterthought as she struggled to find a workable solution for the trouble Luca was causing.

Swearing under her breath, she tapped the cell phone against her palm. What could she tell him? Not the truth. It was too soon for that. He wasn’t her friend, so he wasn’t entitled to any details about her life. Not only that, she wasn’t ready for him to tattle about her sudden wedding plans to her parents. Whatever picture her mother and father had painted for Luca, she was not going to give into their pressure.

How brave she was now that Rhett had lent his support.

“Everything okay?” Ilsa asked.

“Yes, of course.” Trina smiled. “Rhett raves about the staff here, but I have a great team too. Just let me send a text and we can go.” Calling would only open herself up to stress and misery and an inevitable argument.

“Take your time.”