He’d be humiliated. She remembered many years back at the boarding school dance when his friend, Stefano, had ruined her dress and then laughed at her for being at the party when she wasn’t an aristocrat. She’d blushed with embarrassment. Until Matteo had come over and taken her to the dance floor, dancing with her.
He probably didn’t remember, but he’d stopped her tears that day.
She needed to help him now.
It was time to pay him back. She pulled out her phone and texted her friend with police car emojis as she said,Chelsea!
Sheena paced back and forth between the hall and the bridal suite.
The wedding music she’d picked out for Matteo and Patrice softly played.
She’d designed today to be a fairy tale, not a disaster.
Chelsea arrived in the hall, and Sheena waved her toward the bridal suite. Chelsea came in and closed the door, searching the room for Patrice. Her eyes widened as she asked, “What’s wrong?”
Her heart thundered right now and she patted her chest. Chelsea had to know what to do. Sheena’s hands shook as she said, “Patrice… left.”
Chelsea crossed her arms. “What do you mean she left? It’s her wedding.”
Sheena pointed toward the door, ignoring how her limbs trembled. “She just…left.”
Chelsea covered her mouth in stunned comprehension. Sheena stood, waiting for directions. “Someone has to tell Matteo,” Chelsea said.
Right. Mission one was to get Matteo out of here without embarrassment if it could be helped. He’d figure out his life later. “Yeah. He doesn’t deserve this.”
Chelsea shrugged. “He was the one signing contracts to marry someone he didn’t love. It could be for the best.”
But they’d worked so hard together to plan this wedding, just like old times. “Chelsea!”
Chelsea put her hands to her sides. “Look, I married a man I love and life is better that way.”
Sheena couldn’t judge. Neither should Chelsea. Sheena’s inheritance was going to be her father’s restaurant and some insurance. She wouldn’t get anything else.
But Matteo was different. He had a fortune, a home, a title, all riding on this wedding.
Sheena massaged her arms and took a deep breath as she glanced at the veil on the table where Patrice had her hair and makeup done. Sheena saw no choice. She picked up the veil. “I’ll tell him.”
“Once you are in the room, there is no hidden exit for this venue.” Chelsea put the veil around Sheena’s head. “People will know that you aren’t Patrice when you walk down the aisle.”
“Maybe. I have to take that chance.”
Chelsea smoothed it over Sheena’s hair. “Are you serious?”
The music would change from this piano to her favorite melody as she marched down the aisle.
No one would see her face.
If she kept the veil on the entire time, no one would ever know that Patrice had run out on Matteo.
Besides, most of the guests in the room were his friends or models.
If someone did find out that it was her that had walked down the aisle, she’d live it down—a benefit to being a regular person.
She nodded, feeling the gossamer fabric around her head. “Yeah. It will give me his ear for one minute and that’s all I need.”
She hadn’t realized that having everyone dress in white would save her since she was wearing a white gown as well, with minimal lace and no beads.
Chelsea helped her pin the veil to her head as she said, “ I don’t know why you care so much. You don’t even like Matteo.”
