Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

not-so-little brother has a very large, very annoying sense of protectiveness towards me.’ Rigo sighed, looking up at where Valerio and his mother were just disappearing around the corner at the top of the stairs. ‘You’re not the only person I’ve hurt in the past due to my own stubbornness.’

      She looked up at him. ‘That doesn’t explain why he’s taking it out on me.’

      ‘It’s this situation we’re in. This whirlwind wedding. It’s an uncomfortable reminder for them all of the last time I told them I was engaged.’

      Rigo continued, oblivious to the horrified expression she knew must be on her face. ‘I was engaged to be married ten years ago and it ended…badly.’

      ‘What happened?’ Nicole asked, even though a part of her didn’t want to believe he’d been engaged to someone else at all.

      ‘Just the usual stuff.’ He shrugged, looking down at the floor briefly. ‘The break-up was rather messy, and my mother took it quite hard. The wedding had been planned, invitations sent out.’

      ‘That sounds like a nightmare,’ she breathed.

      A strange look came over his face—a mask of emotion so intense it took her breath away. All of a sudden it was gone, replaced by a blank stare.

      ‘It was many years ago, Nicole.’

      He reached down to take her hand in his once more and this time she didn’t push it away. Knowing he had a heart after all, knowing he had been affected on some level by heartache, made her want to be the one to heal him.

      She had felt it all evening—this tingling sensation in her chest that increased as their wedding day grew nearer. She’d kept telling herself that this was just another promotional appearance, that it meant nothing. But meeting his family and presenting them with this show of love and devotion had made her begin to wish it wasn’t all an act.

      But she knew from experience that hope was a dangerous emotion.

      The next morning Nicole stood in front of the full-length mirror with a sense of overwhelming awe. Her wedding gown truly was a work of art, with the fitted bodice hugging her curves like a second skin before flowing out in an elaborate skirt from just above her knee.

      It was everything she had never dared to imagine for herself. She turned to the side, taking in the intricate lace beading down her back and the long train of silk and tulle that flowed out behind her. Women should be able to wear gowns like this every day, she thought, smiling to herself. She felt like royalty.

      Rigo’s mother stepped closer to her side. ‘My mother stood with me like this on the morning of my wedding, you know.’ Her deep blue eyes were filled with warmth. ‘She and her sisters had spent weeks making my dress, but this veil was her own personal project.’

      She held out a length of delicately embroidered vintage lace.

      ‘She poured her heart and soul into it, and told me it would bring me and my new husband strong love and strong sons…daughters in your case.’ She smiled, brushing away an errant tear. ‘I didn’t have any daughters of my own, so I’m passing down this gift to you. Don’t worry—the stylists know not to cross me.’

      ‘Oh, Renata, that’s such a beautiful gesture.’ Nicole’s hands traced the delicate pattern of hand-sewn embellishments.

      ‘It’s my pleasure. And I hope one day you will have the gift of placing this on your own daughter’s head when she marries the one she loves.’

      Nicole dipped down as her future mother-in-law pinned the delicate veil in place and the stylists began to tease out the loose waves of her hair underneath. The overall effect was so classically stunning she was speechless.

      ‘Love him with all your heart, Nicole. And I’ll never have to worry about him again.’

      Renata kissed her lightly on each cheek before disappearing out the door.

      Nicole frowned at the woman’s words, feeling them settle in her chest. His mother believed them to be deeply in love. She was happy for them. If she knew the truth it would probably break her heart.

      Nicole took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves as she was left alone for a few moments in the bridal suite. This was just another day—nothing special, she told herself.

      As she made her way down the staircase to meet the events team she became conscious of the fact that she had no bridesmaids and no flower girls to stand with. Only the kind-faced event co-ordinator, who now stood on the steps to escort her outside to the grounds of the chateau, where a beautiful chapel nestled halfway into the forest.

      The co-ordinator and her staff hurriedly adjusted her train before the door to the chapel was thrown open. Nicole stood still at the entryway, having chosen not to have anyone walk her down the aisle. She was making her own choices now, so it seemed fitting to give herself away.

      As the doors opened and she began to walk slowly down the aisle she was aware of the guests’ hushed breaths and sighs of approval.

      She held her breath as Rigo turned to face her. The look of silent awe in his eyes almost brought her to a grinding halt. She reminded herself to keep moving towards him, to focus on his face and forget about everything else.

      He wore a sleekly cut designer tuxedo, and his brother stood by his side in the same. She was completely on show and yet she didn’t feel exposed. She felt confident with his eyes on hers. She felt a sense of anticipation as she got closer and closer to him. But as she came to a stop by his side and looked up at him the enormity of what they were about to commit to was overwhelming.

      Rigo’s hand enveloped hers as the priest began the ceremony and she fought to focus on the various prayers, then automatically repeated the phrases.

      When the moment finally came for her to slide a thick gold band onto Rigo’s third finger as a symbol of their eternal devotion, to her embarrassment she felt her fingers shake uncontrollably. His tanned, muscular fingers covered hers and she saw the spark of possession in his eyes as he placed an identical gold band onto her finger.

      The priest pronounced them husband and wife.

      Nicole felt her breath catch in her throat at the look of dark possession in Rigo’s gaze. He took no time in pressing his lips to hers, moving his hand to her waist as he pulled her close. The kiss was a part of the ceremony, she told herself. But as he released his breath slowly she felt his fingers tremble against her waist. That one sign of weakness made her wonder if perhaps she wasn’t the only one struggling not to be affected.

      He broke the kiss after a respectable amount of time—they were in a church after all—but the heat in his gaze was just for her. She knew with sudden clarity that this moment would be scorched on her memory forever, no matter what came after.

      The wedding reception passed in a blur of wine and dancing. By the time Rigo’s father swept her up on the dance floor for the third time her feet were aching to escape from their designer shoe prisons.

      ‘May I cut in?’

      Rigo’s voice came from somewhere behind her left ear as the music slowed down to a steady beat. They had shared a first dance already, earlier in the evening. The memory of it still clung to her skin, where he had pressed his face against her neck.

      The photographers had been present then, trying their best to melt into the background but not really succeeding. All day he had touched her and kissed her, their charade successfully convincing the world of their marital bliss. But her traitorous body didn’t seem to realise that this wasn’t real. That he was playing a part.

      Rigo’s