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Authors: Melanie Milburne
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things to do here in London. I don’t want to leave before I’m ready.’
‘We do have hairdressers and nail technicians in Italy, you know,’ he said with a sarcastic bite. ‘We even have fashion designers.’
She sent him a fulminating glare. ‘You can’t have everything your own way, Nic. I know you have for most of your life, but I am not going to be pushed around by you.’
‘I am sending a removal company for your things in the morning,’ he said. ‘The lawyer will be here in less than an hour. I have also organised a wedding planner to meet with you this evening. She will see to all details to do with the ceremony. We will travel together to Rome late tomorrow afternoon. I will send my driver to collect you. If you do not cooperate I will call the press and tell them the wedding is off.’
‘You won’t do that,’ Jade said with not as much confidence as it sounded.
He held her gaze with steely intensity. ‘Don’t bet on it, Jade,’ he said. ‘I will do what I damn well please and you will obey without question.’
Jade picked up a cushion from the sofa and threw it at him. It missed by a mile and bounced off the wall without even making a sound as it fell impotently to the floor. ‘I hate you,’ she said. ‘I really,
really
hate you.’
He smiled coolly as he opened the door. ‘I hate you too; you have no idea how much.’
She winced as he closed the door on his exit. And for the second time in twenty-four hours she felt tears prickle and burn at her eyes.
CHAPTER FIVE
L ESS than an hour later a lawyer arrived with papers in hand, just as Nic had informed her. Jade went through all the motions: politely offering coffee or tea, providing a seat at the dining table so the papers could be spread out easily, all the while hoping her façade of understanding everything would not be shown up for what it was: total ignorance.
‘And if you will just sign here and here,’ the lawyer said, pointing out the sections that were highlighted.
Jade scribbled her signature while inside cringing at how unsophisticated and childish it looked next to Nic’s where he had signed earlier. She studied the bold strokes of his name; the confidence and assurance she always associated with him were there in every twist and turn of his pen.
Not long after the lawyer left a woman arrived, announcing herself as the wedding planner. Jade allowed herself to be swept up in the momentum of confirming all the appointments: the fitting of a dress at a designer studio once she got to Rome, a visit to the jewellers’ where she would be fitted with an astonishingly expensive engagement and wedding ring ensemble that had already been chosen on her behalf, as well as a visit toa high street florist where the flowers for the church and the wedding bouquet would be chosen, ready to be flown to the church in Bellagio by private jet.
It was all done with the efficiency of clockwork but inside Jade was secretly worrying about the year ahead. She could look and dress the part of the happy bride but she was not the bride of Nic’s choice.
They were both marrying under sufferance; it was a chore—it was a time line they both had to endure to get what they wanted.
Jade tried not to think of the romantic fantasies she had conjured up in the past. That was a long time ago and this was here and now. This was a cold, hard business deal, a transaction with financial rewards to be gained. It was not about love or mutual goals. It was about Nic Sabbatini inheriting what was rightfully his. She was the pathway for him to do that and he was hers. She was nothing to him but a means to an end and she would be a silly fool to think otherwise.
A courier arrived early the next morning and delivered a high-tech mobile phone to her apartment. He assured her it was already charged and ready to use. Jade signed for it and, after a long period of hesitation, she unpacked it from its packaging, not for the first time feeling all alone in the
‘We do have hairdressers and nail technicians in Italy, you know,’ he said with a sarcastic bite. ‘We even have fashion designers.’
She sent him a fulminating glare. ‘You can’t have everything your own way, Nic. I know you have for most of your life, but I am not going to be pushed around by you.’
‘I am sending a removal company for your things in the morning,’ he said. ‘The lawyer will be here in less than an hour. I have also organised a wedding planner to meet with you this evening. She will see to all details to do with the ceremony. We will travel together to Rome late tomorrow afternoon. I will send my driver to collect you. If you do not cooperate I will call the press and tell them the wedding is off.’
‘You won’t do that,’ Jade said with not as much confidence as it sounded.
He held her gaze with steely intensity. ‘Don’t bet on it, Jade,’ he said. ‘I will do what I damn well please and you will obey without question.’
Jade picked up a cushion from the sofa and threw it at him. It missed by a mile and bounced off the wall without even making a sound as it fell impotently to the floor. ‘I hate you,’ she said. ‘I really,
really
hate you.’
He smiled coolly as he opened the door. ‘I hate you too; you have no idea how much.’
She winced as he closed the door on his exit. And for the second time in twenty-four hours she felt tears prickle and burn at her eyes.
CHAPTER FIVE
L ESS than an hour later a lawyer arrived with papers in hand, just as Nic had informed her. Jade went through all the motions: politely offering coffee or tea, providing a seat at the dining table so the papers could be spread out easily, all the while hoping her façade of understanding everything would not be shown up for what it was: total ignorance.
‘And if you will just sign here and here,’ the lawyer said, pointing out the sections that were highlighted.
Jade scribbled her signature while inside cringing at how unsophisticated and childish it looked next to Nic’s where he had signed earlier. She studied the bold strokes of his name; the confidence and assurance she always associated with him were there in every twist and turn of his pen.
Not long after the lawyer left a woman arrived, announcing herself as the wedding planner. Jade allowed herself to be swept up in the momentum of confirming all the appointments: the fitting of a dress at a designer studio once she got to Rome, a visit to the jewellers’ where she would be fitted with an astonishingly expensive engagement and wedding ring ensemble that had already been chosen on her behalf, as well as a visit toa high street florist where the flowers for the church and the wedding bouquet would be chosen, ready to be flown to the church in Bellagio by private jet.
It was all done with the efficiency of clockwork but inside Jade was secretly worrying about the year ahead. She could look and dress the part of the happy bride but she was not the bride of Nic’s choice.
They were both marrying under sufferance; it was a chore—it was a time line they both had to endure to get what they wanted.
Jade tried not to think of the romantic fantasies she had conjured up in the past. That was a long time ago and this was here and now. This was a cold, hard business deal, a transaction with financial rewards to be gained. It was not about love or mutual goals. It was about Nic Sabbatini inheriting what was rightfully his. She was the pathway for him to do that and he was hers. She was nothing to him but a means to an end and she would be a silly fool to think otherwise.
A courier arrived early the next morning and delivered a high-tech mobile phone to her apartment. He assured her it was already charged and ready to use. Jade signed for it and, after a long period of hesitation, she unpacked it from its packaging, not for the first time feeling all alone in the
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