Page 4 of Forbidden Lord
But the biggest giveaway? Sheena always relaxed him and once he saw her, he smiled.
She never once demanded cash or threw a fit when he questioned something. In this awful situation, she calmed him.
Sheena was the perfect bride. She was the missing puzzle piece. The solution to everything. How he’d overlooked her in his desperate hour was a mystery. As he met her pretty blue eyes, he saw salvation staring back at him. He asked her again. “Will you marry me, please?”
She finally blinked and her cheeks turned beet-red as she pulled him closer. “What?”
His heart now beat wildly, but he held her close, and her bouquet of flowers pressed against his flat stomach as a barrier between them. “Everyone here thinks you’re my bride. I’m out of options and time.”
“Me?” She glanced behind her.
He saw his friends, Stefano and Astorre, sitting with the two American women who might save them. In the back of the church, he saw Sheena’s father, wearing his chef’s uniform and holding his infamous spatula he used to whip up meals.
Sheena stepped backward and he reached for her waist to keep her. He would do his best to make her happy in return. “Sheena,” he murmured with sincerity, “I should have thought of asking you before now. Please?”
“Marry you?” Her pink lips pursed as she stared at him and he could tell she was considering his blunt proposal. He didn’t dare move one muscle. If he did, he might ruin whatever moment this was. She sighed, fluttering the veil bunched around her face. “Yes. Okay, let’s do it.”
“Really?” His shoulders lifted in relief.
He let her waist go but she grabbed his hand and held it firm. “One condition though.”
“What’s that?” He was ready to calculate whatever monetary figure she threw at him, and he didn’t blame her.
She was his friend, but this was a life sentence for both of them. He waited for the number he’d meet.
She glanced at the guests, most of whom she knew, and then back at him as she said, “You continue to use my father’s restaurant to cater your parties.”
That was it? Her father’s restaurant was the most successful eatery in Paris. It took months to get a reservation. He kissed the back of her hand. “Sheena, we’ll figure out money and everything else after, but I promise your father will always have my business.”
She nodded and shifted beside him to the middle of the altar.
The minister she’d hired immediately recognized the change when he saw Sheena’s face, full on, which had been shielded from the side by the swaths of veil. Matteo held her hand and nodded at him. “We’re ready, though the bride’s name is now Sheena Marceau.”
The minister waited for Sheena’s approval but cautioned, “We’ll need to change the legal documents.”
“Afterward.” She smiled as if this sort of thing might happen all the time and it was best to just go with it. “We have guests. Paperwork can be fixed.”
The minister cleared his throat after she gave him a nod and opened his book. “Then let’s begin.”
Matteo’s mind buzzed, and he wasn’t sure what had just happened. Maybe he’d drunk too much last night at his bachelor’s party and this was a dream? Sheena had been the one to tuck him in bed, sweetly reminding him that he wanted to be at his best for his own wedding.
To think he’d almost married Patrice, because she was pretty and related to a wealthy family.
Sheena was his best choice and his stomach knotted as he realized just how horrible of an option he was for her. The minister asked, “Do you take this man to be your husband, through sickness and health, till death do you part?”
She squeezed his hand like they were best friends and said, “I will.”
Matteo stood taller. Those two words showed her faith in him. Because she’d done this for him, he’d do anything to make her happy as well. He swore it to himself just as the minister asked him, “And do you take Sheena Marceau as your wife, through sickness and health, till death do you part?”
“I will.” The spoken oath backed up his inner promise.
Sheena Marceau had everything in her to be the perfect lady even though she hadn’t been born into the peerage.
Once they married, she’d become one for real and no one would ever doubt her again. He recalled their school years when she’d been left on the sidelines, having money but no title.
He’d ensure everyone they’d ever met apologized to her if they’d treated her wrong in the past, including himself—right after this.
The minister said, “You may now kiss the bride.”
