Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

to be marrying you, then by all means please continue.’

      Rigo sighed. ‘We will need to find a way to stop this enmity if we hope to convince people this is genuine.’

      ‘I’ll just draw upon my mediocre acting skills, shall I?’

      ‘I’m serious, Nicole. There is a lot at stake here for both of us. The press is not going to be gentle.’ He raised a brow. ‘But I’m sure you’ve grown a tough skin over the years.’

      ‘I’ve been given no choice.’ Nicole sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and casually smoothing out her dress across her knee.

      ‘So why run away from them in the first place?’ he asked. ‘Why not sell your story straight away?’

      ‘Instead of selling it now, you mean?’ She squared her shoulders at his veiled comment. ‘Is that why we’re here? For you to try to make me confess my crimes?’

      Rigo shrugged. ‘I’m just trying to make sense of the woman I’m set to marry.’

      ‘Well, you clearly already have me tarred, so forgive me if I don’t feel like pleading my case.’ Nicole felt the shame of his accusation wash over her.

      ‘You’re not on trial here, Nicole. Whether or not you leaked that story makes no difference to me. I don’t need to trust you.’

      ‘Good, because I will never trust you,’ she countered.

      ‘Well, then, this is an excellent start to any marriage.’ His laugh was entirely false as he took a sip of his wine and continued to survey her with that cool blue gaze.

      ‘I’m sure we will live happily ever after,’ Nicole said drily. She wished she were back in the apartment watching Anna sleep rather than sitting here under his scrutiny.

      ‘Ah, there’s that sarcasm again,’ Rigo said harshly. ‘We may not be traditionally happy, Nicole, but we owe it to each other to make things tolerable at least. We’re in this for the long run after all.’

      Nicole sat up straight in her seat. ‘Just how long do you plan to stay married?’

      ‘We are barely engaged and you are already planning the divorce?’

      She felt his comment like a slap in the face. ‘I’m aware that you see me as a cheap copy of my mother, Rigo. Please stop insulting me.’ She cleared her throat and looked away from him, refusing to show any sign of the emotion that was bubbling under the surface.

      ‘Look at me. That is not what I meant.’

      His hand on her wrist turned her back to him, the contact sending a thrill of electricity up her arm.

      ‘Per l’amore di Dio, everything I say is not a deliberate attack on your character.’

      ‘You have made presumptions about my character since the first time we met. At least be upfront about your opinion of me and then maybe we can move on.’

      ‘You want me to be honest? Fine.’ He sat back in his seat. ‘When I first saw you in that ballroom I pinned you as yet another husband hunter, joining the pack. I didn’t know your name but I knew your type. Desperate to be noticed. You were everything I deliberately avoid, and yet…I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’ He took a sip of his wine, keeping her pinned with his eyes as he continued to speak in that low, husky tone. ‘I kept seeking you out in the room, listening for your laugh. It was irritating, and damned infectious, and it made me desperate to know what the hell was so funny.’

      Nicole remembered looking up into those deep blue eyes for the first time, being pinned by the infamous Marchesi blue gaze. She had already been far out of her depth and she hadn’t even known it.

      ‘You entranced me, Nicole. It’s rare that I do anything without a second thought. But with you… I don’t think either of us did much thinking after that first dance.’

      She felt his gaze sweep over her features, down past the neckline of her dress. It wasn’t leering or inappropriate, the way he looked at her. It was the same way he had looked at her that night all those months ago. As though she were a work of art that his eyes needed to worship and savour. As though she was the singularly most beautiful woman on the earth.

      She bit her lip, calming the rage of hormones that seemed to have risen within her. It must be a combination of the wine and being out for the first time in a long time, she argued with herself, and nothing to do with the magnetic male presence across the table from her.

      ‘And now look—it seems I’ve caught myself a husband after all.’ She raised her glass in a mock toast, desperate to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

      ‘If that were true you might possibly be the most forward-planning woman in history.’

      His words were intended as jest, but Nicole could see a hint of speculation in his eyes.

      They were interrupted by the arrival of the first dish: the chef’s specialty, pâté en croute. Nicole took her first bite and stifled the urge to moan. This was so more than just food. It was a work of culinary art. It made the tension of their conversation melt away as the food took over.

      The meal passed slowly from there, with the chef changing the wine with every new dish. In typical French style they took their time—food in France was an event after all.

      Rigo asked politely about her life in L’Annique. She told him about her farmhouse, La Petite, and the relatively quiet life she had led. Her heart mourned the loss of the secluded paradise she had created for herself and her daughter. The daughter he hadn’t even held yet…

      By the time the waiter had finished clearing away their fifth tasting—a dish of succulent lobster claws on a bed of warm rhubarb—Nicole was feeling thoroughly indulged and refused the offer of a dessert platter. Rigo agreed, dismissing the waiter, who removed himself swiftly, leaving them alone.

      ‘I have something to give you,’ he said.

      Nicole watched as Rigo reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a small grey lacquered box with a single silver rose painted on top. She had been in Paris on enough occasions in the past to know that the box came from Fournier, one of the most expensive luxury jewellery boutiques in the city. She felt her stomach clench tightly as he laid it on the table in front of her.

      Without a word she eased open the top and took a moment to survey the glittering diamond ring that lay within. It was huge. The large white diamond virtually dwarfed the rest of the platinum band, which was encrusted with more sparkling gems.

      ‘This looks…very expensive,’ she offered, not exactly knowing what else to say as she laid the box back down on the table.

      ‘I gave it to you to put on, Nicole. Not to decorate the table.’

      When she didn’t make an immediate move he leaned forward, taking the ring out of the box and offering his hand to her. She placed her hand in his and watched as he slid the band slowly onto her third finger. The stone was so large it bumped her knuckle.

      Rigo surveyed the end result before releasing her hand. ‘Now. You are officially my fiancée.’

      Nicole looked up at the man she had agreed to join her life with and tried to resist the urge to scratch at the band so tightly clamped on her finger. Biting her lip, she swirled the remaining wine around her glass a couple of times.

      A phone beeped. Rigo pulled a sleek black device from his pocket and frowned at the screen. ‘The press have arrived. I had our location leaked.’

      ‘They’re here?’ Nicole breathed, looking around as though expecting cameras to start appearing from the walls.

      He nodded. ‘Outside. It’s time for us to leave.’ He stood and motioned for the waiter to retrieve their coats.

      Nicole wrapped her light jacket around her shoulders, hurrying to catch up with his long strides. Rigo stopped just before the open doorway,