Page 13 of Leo

“White is so – yesterday.” He gave her a critical once-over with experienced eyes. “A stunning morning dress of lime green or pale peach. Snug, showing off those curves you like to hide. Your hair should be loose. I have just the man for it and the makeup of course…,” he shook his head as she opened her mouth.

“In order for it to look real, you have to act the part and dress for it. I will be responsible for the dress because you have no fashion sense, and it will be my gift to you!” He shook his head again. “I will not be taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Consider it my part in helping you out.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “Consider what you will be getting at the end of it. Your own shop to do with as you please. Your ideas have merit, and you demonstrated it so clearly that I can see it in my mind’s eye. It is going to look gorgeous when it’s finished.”

She got up and started pacing. “But the sacrifice, what the hell am I doing?”

He started to say something but thought better of it.

“He did not have to do it.”

She whirled to face him. “And that what is so troubling to me. He is doing all of this for me, and it feels like I am doing nothing in return. I hate being in someone’s debt.”

“Don’t I know it.” He muttered and rose. “Let’s get a lot of wine in us, shall we? I want to discuss the bouquet…”

“It’s not a real wedding!” She called after him and only got a wave of hand as he left the room.

Chapter 4

As fate would have it, the day of the wedding turned out to be lovely. It was as if the wintry weather had taken a day off. The sun was shining – a beautiful golden globe in a spotless cerulean, blue sky.

She had been nervous since the decision and had not managed a full night’s sleep since. Her things had been moved over to the elegant townhouse that was every bit as luxurious as Michael had mentioned. She had taken just her clothing, what there was of it.

She stood in the small closet and realized that her taste was woefully inadequate, and she was going to have to stock up on some clothing. It occurred to her that it could not be helped. It was going to come out that they were together.

Not the details of it, but they were going to have to attend functions together. It did not matter anyway, because her aunt had insisted on being involved. She wanted to make sure that the wedding was real. So, they could not very well lock themselves inside his townhouse and stay there.

Which meant she was going to have to shell out money and buy clothes she did not need. Michael had pointed it out to her and reminded her that as Leo’s wife, albeit his fake one, she would be required to attend functions with him.

“Why?” She had almost stamped her foot at that.

“Because, darling, you would not expect the man to have another woman on his arm, do you?” He had asked patiently, making her feel like an idiot.

The dress he had chosen was a delicate lime green with a simple but subtle style and suited her perfectly. It was the softest cashmere, and she grudgingly admitted that it felt great against her skin. She had been forced to invite Ingrid and her husband Ben and felt a frisson of guilt, when she lied to the woman.

The wonderful woman who has been there for her for years - Ingrid had given her a puzzled look, one bordering on suspicion.

“I know he was giving us his business and you told me you were friends, but I had no idea you two had gotten close to the point of getting married and this quickly too.”

“Aunt Gloria wants the ceremony over and done with before she goes on her cruise.”

“And she will be signing over her resources to you. My dear, the offer to accept payments in increments still stands. You do not have to enter into something you are not ready for. I know how broken you were over what that – that man did to you.”

“I just decided that it’s time I moved on, and Leo is a very nice guy.”

“You’re not in love with him.”

She had lifted her hands helplessly. “We respect each other, and we are friends. That has to be it for now.”

Now, standing in front of the mirror in the room she had occupied when she was living with her aunt, she studied herself critically. Michael had gone to the trouble of paying for the services of a professional and he had done an exceptionally decent job.

She had warned him that she would be watching for any indication that he was enjoying his craft too much and going overboard.

“I would rather not look like a fricking doll or a clown if it is all the same to you. I do not usually wear makeup, and this is not something I indulge in. So, make it look like me as much as possible.”

The man had tsked and told her that with her skin tone, she did not need much help. “A lot of models and actresses would kill for such a flawless complexion. What do you use?”

“Soap and water.”

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