Page 16 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

CHAPTER SIX

A S HE TURNED back to Lizzie he focused his attention on the basket at her feet. ‘What is that?’

He looked so bemused that the tension that had been building inside her vanished. This was a conversation she didn’t mind having because there was only one outcome. The knowledge made her feel in charge.

‘My cat.’

His thick dark brows knitted into a pattern of disapproval. ‘You have brought a cat to a wedding.’

‘Well, I couldn’t leave her on the plane.’

She spoke kindly, as though she were addressing someone slightly slow on the uptake.

‘Why was she on the plane in the first place?’

‘Because we come as a package deal.’

Her tone, in fact her entire body language, suggested she wanted to instigate a fight, just for the hell of it, meek mouse… He felt quite wistful for the time when she was neatly filed under that heading in his head.

‘Do you know how absurd you sound?’

‘Do you actually think I care about what you think about how I sound or, for that matter, look?’ She frowned, not liking the look of comprehension that spread across his face.

‘This is about my remark at that awful dinner, isn’t it?’

She opened her mouth to deny this and closed it again. ‘You were extremely rude, but that came as no surprise.’

‘You were wearing a tent-like garment, which for a woman with your shape is—’

‘What’s wrong with my shape?’ she flared.

‘Nothing in the world except the fact you try and hide it.’

Her pugnacious stance disintegrated in the space of a single thud of her heart, and her insides melted as she stared at the compelling earthy perfection of his carved patrician features.

‘You should not try to hide your femininity. You should celebrate it.’

This advice, coming from a man who had never been seen in public with a woman who didn’t have hip bones you could hang a coat hanger on—in fact, she decided viciously, women who were coat hangers—struck her as the ultimate hypocrisy.

‘We were talking about my cat, not my body,’ she reminded him coldly.

They might not be talking about her body, but he was thinking about it. The thoughts combined with the subtle citrusy scent of her perfume, and the surge of desire and something more complicated that he fought hard against all but consumed him.

‘You were talking, correction, you were itching to start a pitched battle. You brought your damned cat. Fine. I have no view on it at all.’ His dark eyes flickered to the basket she was brandishing like some bloody weapon.

‘How about you and your pet get in the car and let’s get married? ’ snarled the groom.

She fixed him with a killer glare.

‘How can I resist such a charming invitation?’

She sat in the air-conditioned luxury barely registering it, or the scenery through the window, but there was only so long a person could sit stiff-backed without being in pain.

‘I’m a bit nervous about this. I never thought I’d get married, let alone to someone who…to someone like you,’ she said, her eyes trained on her interlaced fingers as her bottled-up feelings burst out. ‘I keep telling myself it’s not real, but it bothers me so much that I am… It’s cheating.’

She leaned back into her seat, her temper burned off, and a sadness remained.

He flicked her a sideways glance, noting the traces of blue shadows under her beautiful eyes, the quiver of the blue-veined pulse in her temple. He redirected his eyes to the road ahead, his brain shifting gear to cope with the surge of protectiveness her vulnerability shook loose in him.

‘Who are we hurting, Lizzie Rose?’

She blinked, her eyes swivelling to his achingly perfect profile. ‘It’s… I…’ She paused, struggling to put her complex feelings into words. She couldn’t bring herself to say that marriage was a sacred thing because that would have made her sound naive.

‘You can walk away at any moment.’

Nostrils flared, she sucked up a quivering breath and pushed out a resentful, ‘Yes, I know you’re right.’

He laughed. ‘That must have hurt.’

‘Yes, actually it did, but the last week has been…not easy.’

‘Tell me about it.’

Her brow pleated into an uncomprehending frown until understanding dawned and the feeling in his voice made sense.

Just because he was pushing this didn’t mean he liked it. How could he? He was facing a fake marriage of inconvenience with Deb’s dumpy little cousin while he was still grieving for his lost love. It had to be dredging up all sorts of painful memories of the wedding day he had been robbed of.

‘Sorry, it must be hard for you.’ Did he feel disloyal to his lost love?

‘Sorry?’ He slid a mystified glance her way before focusing on the road ahead.

‘I know… Well, I don’t know.’ How could she? She had never been in love. ‘Deb was so beautiful, and your wedding would have been… This one isn’t real.’

And when it was for real another man would unlock the fiery passion he sensed inside her, a fiery passion that he was sure that her lovers to this point had not tapped into.

Of course, with it came the stubborn streak, the awful dress sense and her misplaced empathy.

‘The traffic is though.’

She clamped her lips. ‘OK, sorry.’

‘You’ve already said that. Sorry for what, exactly? You feel cheated from the big wedding you have always imagined?’

‘God, no!’ she came back with a horrified shudder. ‘I have never dreamt of a wedding at all, ever, but you…’ A frustrated sigh left her lips. His attitude was making it very hard to hang onto her sympathy.

‘You had Deb. It must be hard after you planned your perfect wedding. The contrast with—’

‘Marriage is a contract.’

‘Well, ours is, obviously, and I know it might not seem like it now, but one day you might—you will—meet someone.’ And Lizzie for one did not envy the woman he would marry for real, not when competing with a ghost who would never gain a few inches around her waist or have a bad hair day.

‘If you want to set me up with another woman while we are married, you might raise a few eyebrows.’

‘I’m not trying to set you up. I’m being sympathetic,’ she pushed out in an offended rush. ‘I won’t bother.’

‘That news makes me very happy and, for the record, if I want a woman, I have never needed a cheerleader.’

‘That is… You are…’

‘Being very restrained. You notice I did not say pimp for me. So are you still up for this or shall I just, as they say, call the whole thing off?’

The question hung in the conditioned air between them for a long moment. She hardly trusted her voice as she sent him a poisonous sideways glare. ‘No, let’s do it.’

Adonis’s firm lips turned up at the corners.

He had known many women over the years who had been willing to go to any lengths to extract a proposal from him and he was marrying a woman who approached marriage to him with the enthusiasm most people reserved for a root canal or leaping into a lake of freezing water.

‘In that case, have a look in the glove box. There’s a ring. Put it on.’

‘I don’t need a ring.’

‘It’s not about need.’

Lizzie stared at the ring, nestled in red velvet, the sapphire surrounded by twinkling diamonds. A very expensive piece of window dressing, like the wardrobe of clothes.

‘People will think I’m a cheapskate if you don’t have an engagement ring.’

She flashed him a sideways look and warned, ‘It won’t fit.’

But it did.

Obviously it didn’t, but it felt to Lizzie as though the long corridor went on for ever. The sound of her heels on the marble floor had a dreamlike quality as she fell into step beside Jenna, who looked almost as nervous as Lizzie felt.

Adonis was walking a little ahead, his head tilted as he made conversation with the person who appeared to be the celebrant.

In truth, Lizzie had no idea because she had only heard one word in three when the woman had introduced herself above the static buzz that had taken up residence in Lizzie’s head along with Adonis’s distinctive deep voice and jumbled snatches of conversation.

One rose to the surface above the others.

He’d said she looked stunning.

She purposely dampened the illicit little glow of pleasure that came with the memory, reminding herself that he was not talking about her, he was talking about her clothes. She was still the same person she had been two years ago, he had just admired the fancy wrapping.

Which was of course shallow, but she had to admit that actually the feel of expensive silk and natural fibres against her skin was sensual… Normally, she was a sports bra fan, but the underwired piece of silk she was wearing was pretty and gently supportive.

She was still thinking about underwear and how he’d known her size when the corridor ended, and they reached a large arched metal-banded door.

There were no more thoughts to distract her from the moment. Her brain had effectively gone into frozen freeze-frame.

The celebrant stood to one side and Lizzie felt everyone’s expectant eyes on her. The space next to Adonis was hers for the taking.

How many tall skinny women out there would envy her and feel quite rightly that they would be a better fit for that spot, for the ring on her finger? Her flickering gaze was captured by the ring as she began to tug panicky at it.

‘What are you doing?’

‘You can use this as a wedding band.’

‘I have wedding bands for us both.’

‘Oh, right…’ It seemed he had thought of everything except the fact that no one would believe that he had picked her out for his bride.

The elephant in the room had never been properly addressed. The argument that should have been front and centre. Nobody was going to believe they were a fit. Everyone would see through the ruse. This would all be a stupid waste of time.

‘Do you need a glass of water?’

That was Jenna and then another voice said something about nervous brides.

‘I’m fine.’ Her voice sounded as though it were coming from a long way away and her feet felt heavy as she finally walked towards him. Her stomach was a mess of butterflies as she kept her gaze low under the mesh of her naturally dark eyelashes.