Bella Rosa Marriages: The Bridesmaid's Secret. Fiona Harper

romantic. The island was the perfect place for a wedding.

      Not his wedding, of course. He smiled at the thought. Nobody would ever be foolish enough to think the day would come when he’d pledge his body and soul to one woman for eternity.

      A month or two, maybe.

      He sighed as he left the leafy seclusion of the sunken garden and walked into the fragrant sunshine of a neatly clipped lawn. From here he climbed a succession of terraces as he made his way back towards the house. The days when this island had been a playground for the idle rich were long gone. He had work to do.

      However, he was whistling when he headed into the ground-floor room he’d converted into a studio to collect the paperwork for his afternoon appointment. When a man had a job that involved dressing and undressing beautiful women, he couldn’t really complain, could he?

      Before Jackie’s stiletto-heeled foot could make contact with the driveway, her mother flew out of the front door and rushed towards her, her arms flung wide.

      ‘Jackie! There you are!’

      Jackie’s eyes widened behind her rather huge and rather fashionable sunglasses. What on earth was going on? Her mother never greeted her like this. It was as if she were actually overjoyed to see—

      ‘You’re late!’ Her mother stopped ten feet shy of the limo and her fists came to rest on her hips, making the jacket of her Chanel suit bunch up in a most unappealing manner.

      This was more the reception Jackie had been anticipating.

      Her mother looked her up and down. Something Jackie didn’t mind at all now she knew her mother could find no fault with her appearance, but once upon a time it had sent a shiver up her spine.

      ‘I don’t believe I mentioned what time I—’

      ‘The other girls arrived over an hour ago,’ her mother said before giving her a spiky little peck on the cheek, then hooking an arm in hers and propelling Jackie inside the large double doors of the villa.

      What girls?

      Jackie decided there was no point in reminding Mamma that she hadn’t actually specified a time of arrival, only a date. Her mother was a woman of expectations, and heaven help the poor soul who actually suggested she deviate from her catalogue of fixed and rigid ideas. Jackie had come to terms with the fact that, even though she was the toast of London, in the labyrinthine recesses of Lisa Firenzi’s mind her middle daughter was the specimen on a dark and dusty shelf whose label read: Problem Child.

      Although Jackie hadn’t seen her mother in almost a year, she looked the same as always. She still oozed the style and natural chic that had made her a top model in her day. She was wearing an updated version of the classic suit she’d had last season, and her black hair was in the same neat pleat at the back of her head.

      The excited female chatter coming from her mother’s bedroom and dressing room alternated between Italian and English with frightening speed. Three women, all in various states of undress, were twittering and cooing over some of the most exquisite bridal wear that Jackie had ever seen. In fact, they were so absorbed in helping the bride-to-be into her wedding dress that they didn’t even notice Jackie standing there.

      Lizzie, who was half in, half out of the bodice, looked up and spotted her first, and all at once she was waddling across the room in a mound of white satin. She pulled Jackie into a tight hug.

      ‘Your sister finally deigned to arrive for the dress fitting.’

      Jackie closed her eyes and ignored her mother’s voice. Dress fitting? Oh, that was what Mamma had her knickers in a twist about. She needn’t have worried. Jackie had sent her measurements over by email a couple of weeks ago and she knew her rigorous fitness regime would not have allowed for even a millimetre of variation.

      ‘We all know Jackie operates in her own time zone these days, don’t we?’

      Ah. So that was it. Mamma was still irritated that she hadn’t fallen in with her plans and arrived yesterday. But there had been a very important show she’d needed to attend in Paris, which she couldn’t afford to miss. Her mother of all people should understand how cut-throat the fashion industry was. One minor stumble and a thousand knives would be ready to welcome her back as a sheath.

      She wanted to turn round, to tell her mother to mind her own business, but this was neither the time nor the place. She wasn’t about to do anything to spoil the frivolity of her sister’s wedding preparations. She squeezed Lizzie back, gently, softly.

      ‘It’s been too long, Lizzie!’ she said in a hoarse voice.

      As she pulled away she tried to file her mother’s remark away in her memory banks with all the others, but the words left a sting inside her.

      ‘Here, let me help you with this.’ She pulled away from Lizzie and walked round her so she could help with the row of covered buttons at the back. The dress was empire line, gently complementing Lizzie’s growing pregnant silhouette. And true to form, the bride was positively glowing, whether that was the effect of carrying double the amount of hormones from the twins inside her or because she was wildly in love with the groom Jackie had yet to meet, she wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, Lizzie looked happier and more relaxed than she’d ever been. If it was down to Jack Lewis, he’d better know how to keep it up, because Jackie would have his hide if he didn’t.

      ‘Thanks. I knew there was a reason why we had a fashion expert in the family,’ Lizzie said, smiling as she pulled her long dark hair out of the way.

      Jackie concentrated on the row of tiny silk-covered buttons that seemed to go on for ever. ‘This dress is exquisite,’ she said as she reached the last few. Which was amazing, since it had to have been made in mere weeks.

      Jackie stood back and admired her sister. Getting a dress to not only fit somebody perfectly, but complement their personality was something that even cold, hard cash couldn’t buy, unless you were in the hands of a true artist.

      Isabella and Scarlett came close to inspect the dress and mutter their appreciation. Jackie turned, a smile of utter serenity on her face, and prepared herself to greet her fellow bridesmaids.

      Isabella first. They kissed lightly on both cheeks and Isabella rubbed her shoulder gently with her hand as they traded pleasantries. Jackie kept her smile in place as she turned to face her younger sister. They kissed without actually making contact and made a pretence of an embrace.

      She and Scarlett had been so close once, especially after Lizzie had gone to university in Australia, when it had just been the two of them and she’d felt like a proper big sister rather than just Lizzie’s deputy. She’d even thought vainly that Scarlett might have hero-worshipped her a little bit.

      But that had all changed the summer she’d got pregnant with Kate. Scarlett had never looked at her the same way again. And why should she have? Some role model Jackie had been. Who would want to emulate the disaster area that had been her life back then—Jackie in tears most of the day, Mamma alternating between ranting and giving her the ice-queen treatment?

      Not long after that Scarlett had moved away too. She’d followed in Lizzie’s footsteps and flown halfway round the world to live with her father. They’d never had a chance to patch things up, for Jackie to say how sorry she was to make Scarlett so ashamed of her. No more late-night secret-sharing sessions. No more raiding the kitchen at Sorella, one of them rifling through the giant stainless-steel fridge for chocolate cake, one of them keeping guard in case the chef spotted them.

      Now they talked as little as possible and met in person even less. Jackie released Scarlett from the awkward hug and took a good look at her. They hadn’t laid eyes on each other in more than five years. Scarlett hadn’t changed much, except for looking a little bit older and even more like their mother. She had the same hint of iron behind her eyes these days, but the generous twist of the mouth Jackie recognised from their childhood tempered it a little.

      Of course, Lizzie was far too excited to notice the undercurrents flowing around amidst the tulle and