Every unwanted child she’d met wanted a different life--but how many actually got one? It would take some getting used to, but she was more interested in marrying Astorre.Yeah. Look, I’ll be back in Avce soon.
A knock sounded on the door and Clara stood, but her phone beeped. She quickly read Rossie’s answer,You’re okay?
Was she? It felt like was in a dream. Her mind clouded and she couldn't explain that she was about to get married, after all the arguments she'd presented against Rossie’s impulsive marriage. She opened the door and let the dressmaker in with gowns galore on wheeled luggage meant to showcase the hanging dresses. All white caught her eye as she typed back.Great. I’m traveling with Astorre.
The travel partner would soon be her husband. The gowns were now all in so she closed the door as Rossiedinged back,Well have fun.
Clara put her phone down and said, “Hi, I’m Clara Fortuna.”
“Just call me Valentina.” The woman had dark hair wound in a bun and fierce eyebrows. “Let’s get you sized. Please try this on. I want to get your measurements so we can narrow down what I brought.”
Time was ticking. In an hour she’d be Mrs. Manfredi, though he’d probably correct her with the "Duchess of Modena." Titles sounded strange, even if she suddenly had one herself. Until now she’d just been Clara the Unfortunate as they'd called her back in school.
Clara put on a plain white dress that she would wear to the beach and stood on a stool.
Valentina used her measuring tape and wrote notes.
Once she finished, Valentina motioned toward the rack and showed her six dresses. The dressmaker held up a traditional white gown with cap sleeves and puffy lace. “Do you like this, my lady?”
Seriously? It was like the gown had been designed from her imagination, yet it was real. She traced the fabric to feel the texture as she said, “Yes. The lacework is beautiful and wonderfully detailed.”
The designer nodded, pleased. “Thank you. It’s hand-stitched.”
Clara patted her arm. “I would never have this skill. You’re very talented.”
Her face turned pink. “My clients don’t normally compliment so much.” She handed it to Clara. “Let's ensure it fits well.”
This was another moment to treasure. Clara took her amazing dress and changed in the bathroom that was rather small because it was on a yacht. She wiggled in but had trouble with the zipper and hooks. She came out half-done. Valentina fixed the back and then Clara glanced at herself in the mirror as Valentina said, “You look gorgeous.”
She almost looked like a princess, except for the circles under her eyes and frazzled brown hair. This couldn't be her. The dress somehow gave her skin a pretty glow.
A knock at the door echoed and Clara glanced toward it. “That must be hair and makeup.”
Valentina fluffed the bottom of the dress and then a male voice called out, “Is Clara here?”
She twisted her head, surprised to see the tall, lean, blond man from the lobby earlier. She doubted Max was there to do her makeup.
Astorre was next door. Her heart raced that he might see her before they exchanged vows but that thought was silly. She walked to the door and motioned for Valentina to step aside. “Max Fionalli?”
He leaned on the frame and came too close like they were familiar as he said, “You remember my name.”
Clara stepped back and crossed her arms. “Astorre said you almost married his sister.” She left out the fortune-hunting part.
Max stood taller. “He interfered with our happily-ever-after. I wanted to ensure he wasn’t trapping such a beauty as yourself.”
The urge to laugh hit her hard, but she refrained. “Trapping? Naw. I’m good.”
His brow tightened as if she was speaking another language other than English. He fixed his tie. “You seem like a nice woman. I wanted to warn you about Astorre Manfredi.”
Her arms grew goosebumps. She ignored the sensation as she said, “He’s been nothing but decent to me since we met.”
Max took a step into her room from the hall but she shook her head. He stepped back. “He’s only showing you his good side because he wants you.”
Maybe, but that’s all she'd done too. It wasn’t like she’d told him she lived one paycheck away from disaster. “Well, that’s a thought.”
Max let out a sigh like he knew he'd lost. “He refused to let me marry his sister, Olivia, because he couldn’t let her go.”
Her mind raced. “What?”
