Xiomara grimaced. ‘Right. So let’s run through the day.’
Xiomara was thorough and so confident that it couldn’t help but rub off on Phoebe, and they spent thirty minutes discussing the wedding, the dinner afterwards and the people she should avoid.
‘You’ll have to meet my father, but take my advice and don’t get stuck with him for long. I’ll try to manage that for you. The King and he…they don’t see eye to eye at all.’
Phoebe nodded.
‘One last thing.’ Xiomara reached into the small designer clutch she carried. ‘Tavi asked me to give you this.’
Tavi.Her heart twisted. What a sweet nickname for a man who seemed far too intimidating to ever have such a thing.
‘What is it?’
‘No idea, sorry. I’m just the messenger.’ She handed over a small velvet pouch. ‘Would you like me to leave you in privacy?’
‘No, that’s fine. It’s probably just something… I don’t know.’ Her fingers trembled a little as she opened the pouch and removed a fine platinum chain on which a locket was suspended. It was dainty, oval shaped and with diamonds inlaid. She ran a finger over them. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘A locket? What’s inside? Don’t tell me he’s put a picture of himself in there,’ Xiomara said on a soft laugh.
Phoebe separated one side of the locket from the other, hinging it open, and her breath caught in her throat while her heart rammed into her ribs.
‘It’s my mum,’ she whispered, staring at the picture of her mother smiling back at her.
‘Oh, God. That’s actually really sweet.’ Xiomara’s arm came around Phoebe’s waist, squeezing her. ‘She’s beautiful.’
‘Yeah, she was.’ Phoebe blinked back tears. ‘I can’t cry. My mascara will run.’
‘He should definitely have given you that himself,’ Xiomara said with a shake of her head.
‘It’s just so thoughtful of him,’ Phoebe said unevenly, her mind spinning. Had he understood how badly she was missing her mother? Not just today, but ever since learning of her pregnancy and feeling so alone on that journey?
A knock sounded at the door. Xiomara looked at Phoebe. ‘You ready?’
Phoebe nodded, but tears still sparkled on her lashes.
‘Come in,’ Xiomara called, then turned back to Phoebe. ‘Would you like to wear it?’
‘Of course.’ She nodded quickly. ‘Would you mind helping me?’
Xiomara clasped the necklace in place and Phoebe glanced at the mirror. It was perfect.
Marie entered the room with two guards, one of whom carried a velvet cushion with a diamond tiara on it. Of course there’d been mention of a tiara but stupidly Phoebe had envisaged something small and, well, cheap, something almost for show. But this was quite obviously from a royal vault of some kind, and it was most definitely not small, nor cheap.
‘This tiara was commissioned for the King’s great-grandmother,’ Marie explained. ‘It has one hundred and eighty carats of diamonds, a mix of pear and marquise cut, and is set in platinum. It’s very, very special and we all think it will look perfect on you. Do you like it?’
Phoebe’s jaw dropped. ‘Did you say one hundred and eighty carats?’
‘Don’t think about it,’ Xiomara advised quickly. ‘Trust the stylish people.’ She wiggled her perfectly shaped brows and Phoebe laughed.
‘Okay,’ she said with a nod. ‘Show me.’
She stood still as the team worked their magic, and by the time they were done Phoebe had to admit she definitely looked the part. There was nothing more to do now but act it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HERDRESSWASPERFECT. She looked like an angel—and the cut of the fabric almost disguised her pregnancy. At her throat she wore the locket he’d sent with Xiomara, and on her face she had a perfect smile pinned. He knew it was just for show but no one else would, because Phoebe was a damned good actress. She looked serenely beautiful. She looked regal. He couldn’t look away—he told himself he was also acting a part, but in that moment he wasn’t acting. He was existing. He stared at her because he wanted to. She had been preceded by a collection of bridesmaids, none of them known to Phoebe, all of them from the aristocracy.
When Xiomara approached the front of the church, she winked at Octavio and he relaxed a little.
