Page 170 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

Their Altar Arrangement

Natalie Anderson

“You don’t think there’ll be any benefits for your sister in the arrangement?”

“None that are worth it.”

Elodie had long ago vowed never to get involved with another man again. She’d fought hard for her own freedom. She’d done horrible, necessary things. But she would suffer far more if it could save her sister from the same.

“For some unfathomable reason you want to get married,” she said. “So perhaps it doesn’t matter who the unfortunate woman is.”

He was unnervingly still, that intensity sharpening his eyes. “You have another candidate in mind?”

Candidate.As if it were a job. “Another poor soul, you mean?”

The devastating good looks of the man, his searing wealth, his callous lack of care and her own horrendouslyanimalresponse to him fueled her fury to the point where all control was lost.

“Sure,” she added acidly. “If you want a wife sodesperately, then you can marry me!”

CHAPTER ONE

ELODIEWALLACESTOODin the heart of London. A stretch of ludicrously expensive stone residences curved before her, the city homes of many of the world’s wealthiest, those supposedly important, probably corrupt, definitely powerful people. The kind of autocrats who’d do anything to ensure their wealth and power didn’t just remain intact for all eternity but grew like rampant weeds through millennia—strangling anything and anyone in the way of their relentlessly upward trajectories.

Cynical? Why yes, Elodie was. Dramatic? That too.

But sometimes in life everything does happen all at once. Bad things truly happened ‘in threes’, and ‘when it rains, it pours’ wasn’t a strong enough forecast—a whole hurricane had hit her world. It wasn’t enough that her dream career was under threat or that her best friend’s livelihood was also at risk, but her younger’s sister’slifewas basically at stake.

So she would enter the den. Slay the dragon. Save the princess. Though admittedly now she was confronted by the imposing buildings that so spectacularly signposted both wealth and sticking power, she regretted not bringing backup. But both Phoebe and Bethan, hercompadresin pursuing a life of personal liberty, needed protecting too. Phoebe was away taking the first holiday in her life, while Bethan was still fragile from a deeply wounding disillusionment. So Elodie had not told them about the call she’d taken from her sister Ashleigh late last night, nor of the decision she’d made to come here today.

One step at a time.

The clichés would get her through, they usually did. She loved using them at work—twisting them to mean the opposite and thus confusing her customers. She stalked along the pristine path until she hit the right numeral beautifully painted in black on twin marble columns. The portico was ridiculously grand, the neoclassical architectural style exuding timeless and impenetrable exclusivity.

She registered the security cameras. They were subtly situated but still able to be seen, thus acting as deterrent as much as actual recording devices. Breaching this citadel would be a challenge. She drew breath and climbed, staring straight into the lens of the camera nearest the front door as she pressed the button.

Somewhat amazingly the door opened after only a few moments. Elodie’s attention zipped to the man blocking the space. He looked like a cross between a pro wrestler and a secret service agent. Blank expression, black earpiece, built physique complete with a bulky bit in his black jacket that made her suspect he was carrying a weapon. That last might be her over-active imagination but she was pretty sure. Quelling her rising nerves, she fixed her gaze squarely on him. She’d pretend she was meant to be there, as ifshewere someone important too. She was good at pretending.

‘Elodie Wallace,’ she announced with the particularly precise enunciation she used at work. ‘I’m here to see Ramon Fernandez.’

‘Snootily confident attitude’ crossed with ‘bulletproof ballbreaker facade’ had got her into some of the most exclusive clubs when she’d needed to destroy her own name. But, bold as she’d been on those nights, she had to be even more so now.

‘Is he expecting you?’ More than a touch of scepticism tarnished the man’s reply.

‘I’m his fiancée’s sister,’ Elodie elaborated crisply. ‘I’m here to discuss the arrangements for this weekend’s engagement party.’

The butler/bodybuilder/probable assassin might’ve been immaculately trained but even he failed to hide his startled moment at her answer. Elodie maintained her frigidly polite expression. Bluffing was an art form and fortunately she’d had plenty of practice. There was a pause. Though he kept his gaze on her, the man’s eye muscles narrowed slightly and she sensed his attention was elsewhere. His earpiece perhaps? She tilted her chin slightly. She wasn’t leaving without talking to the man she was sure was inside. She’d chain herself to one of these columns and scream like a banshee if required. Ashleigh’s future literally hung in the balance.

The behemoth drew an audible breath but suddenly muttered, ‘Of course.’

Was he talking to her or—?

He stepped back. ‘Please come in.’

As she followed him inside she sneaked another steadying breath, unable to appreciate the sudden temperature change from the stifling summer heat outside to a cool, high-ceilinged sanctuary of an atrium.

The body-built butler gestured towards a comfortable-looking chair. ‘Please take a seat.’

‘I’d prefer to stand.’ She smiled glacially. ‘While you let him know I’m here.’

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