Granted, boarding school had been a miserable experience for the most part. Her father was a chef and she attended school with foreign nobles, dignitaries and billionaires. Sure, her father’s restaurant was the nicest one in all of Paris, but she was still related to the help.
Veil on, she picked up the bouquet she’d made and glanced at her best friend. Chelsea had grown up knowing she was a lady. No one questioned her, ever. She wouldn’t understand Sheena’s need to help Matteo. She fixed the veil around her face like a beautiful ghost. “He was the nicest of those boys. He stood up for me more than once. Now, I’ll pay him back.”
“The veil makes you invisible, like some old-fashioned hand maiden or medieval bride.” Chelsea opened the door for her. “Even if they realize that you are not Patrice, they won’t recognizeyou.”
They walked toward the hall together. At the door, Sheena stared at the white petal from one of the trees that must have fallen into the lobby. Soon, people would forget her actions today and only talk about Matteo and Patrice and the scandal of whatever happened next. Sheena clutched her bouquet and nodded. “Perfect. Chelsea, stay by the door and get me out of there the second you can.”
Chelsea opened the door. The music changed, announcing to the guests that the bride was about to make her appearance.
The bride was now her. Wow.
Chelsea whispered, “Not a problem. I’ll circle the room and get my sister to help me. We’ll head upstairs to our rooms in the hotel.”
“Sounds good,” Sheena whispered back. Once Chelsea was gone, she pivoted and stared right at Matteo.
He stood in the center of the aisle, ready for his bride.
The smile on his face told her that he had no idea Patrice had left him. He’d never look at her like that, ever.
Sheena took a step toward him.
Cameras flashed as people whispered around her. Somehow, she walked in time with the music.
She listened for awareness in the crowd of her more curvy figure instead of Patrice’s skinny form. Murmurs of her beauty sounded.
Everything was almost like her dream with the exception of this stupid veil.
As she made her way closer, for one moment, she wished this was her wedding for real, and the flowers trembled in her hand.
Silly, yes. She glanced back and saw her own father standing at the rear of the crowd. He didn’t know it was her behind this veil. Sheena turned her full attention onto Matteo and reached for his hand.
He squeezed it. How did he not know from one touch she wasn’t Patrice? He must. She held still as every cell was alive inside her. Matteo lifted her veil. She ignored the beat in her heart that rushed faster than the music. “Matteo.”
“Sheena?” He pulled her by the upper arms close to his body.
The heat of him and those hard muscles sent a different thrill but he likely wanted an explanation. She whispered in his ear, “Patrice is gone.”
He let her go and stared down his regal nose at her. His sculpted cheekbones reminded her of Michelangelo’s David, only Matteo was more virile and strong than any Renaissance statue. His face went white. “Where did she go?”
Nerves sparked below her skin because she had to tell him something hurtful. She lowered her head and looked at the beautiful peonies in the bouquet she held. “Out the door. She doesn’t love you.”
Matteo took a step back.
All the romantic decorations probably made him feel silly as he glanced around the room and she couldn’t help but watch him. He met the gazes of Stefano Durnovo, Marchese of Normanni, and Astorre Manfredi, Duc of Modena, both of his best friends.
The men would leap into action and take over--her one moment alone with Matteo was about to end. He’d never see her again. Her face would bring the reminder of being left at the altar, humiliated and possibly the moment he lost his entire life.
For her, life would return to normal, in her small apartment above her studio.
She prepared to move aside but he stepped toward her and took her hand. “Will you marry me, Sheena?”
She stilled. Never in a thousand years would she have believed that Matteo would choose her--she wasn’t supposed to be his lady. The melody of her heart changed its tune.
She couldn’t let him down. Not now. Not ever.
Chapter 2
Matteo’s heart fluttered. He should have realized immediately that Patrice wasn’t coming toward him. The walk had been different, and the height. Sheena was at least six inches shorter than Patrice.
