Carol Marinelli - Billionaire Without A Past

‘A blog?’ Libby said. ‘Why?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

The pews continued to fill, but to the right and not so much to the left, and it suddenly dawned on Rachel that, given the groom was an orphan...

Libby laughed again as Rachel’s shoulders sagged.

‘I thought the place would be teeming with sexy Russians,’ Rachel sighed.

‘Oh, well, there’s always André,’ Libby said.

‘No.’ Rachel shook her head as Libby spoke of Rachel’s long-term colleague and occasionally intimate friend. ‘Didn’t I tell you? He’s met someone and it’s serious.’

‘Really?’

‘Yep.’ Rachel nodded. ‘They’re getting married in a fortnight.’

‘How didn’t I hear this?’

‘It only just happened.’

‘Well, that’s one wedding you’ll be avoiding,’ Libby said.

Rachel didn’t comment and neither did she tell Libby that it was a wedding she couldn’t avoid. Instead, she looked through the order of service and deliberately tried not to think about André.

‘So who’s he marrying?’ Libby asked, and Rachel longed for Libby to have a sudden contraction, for the bride to arrive, for anything other than give the answer.

It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.

There was more.

Of course there was.

The Cary family had more skeletons in their closets than a graveyard.

‘Rachel?’ Libby pushed for her to answer the question but thankfully there was a stir in the congregation and Daniil said something to Sev in Russian in a shocked voice. At first Rachel assumed the bride had arrived so she turned around.

Oh, my.

Someone as good looking as this man should perhaps have known that he wouldn’t be able to slink into the church unseen.

Tall with dark wavy hair that was worn a touch too long, he caused a stir simply by walking in. Heads had turned.

‘Who,’ Rachael asked Libby, in a voice that had suddenly gone husky, ‘is that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Libby said. ‘It might be...’ Her voice trailed off and Rachel watched as Libby frowned and looked over to the altar, where her husband and the groom stood. Rachel’s gaze followed.

Daniil looked stunned and Sev, the groom, who had been staring ahead, had turned around at Daniil’s instruction.

The shock on their faces was evident and Rachel watched as the two men broke with protocol and strode down the aisle towards this delicious stranger. Everyone was standing now, trying to get a better look. Rachel was on tiptoe, trying to make things out, but she couldn’t.

‘What’s happening?’ Rachel asked.

The only person not paying full attention was Libby.

‘I’m having another one,’ she moaned, and clutched at the pew.

‘They’re miles apart,’ Rachel said in an authoritative tone to keep Libby, who was rather neurotic, calm. Libby, like all dancers, was very body aware, which meant, of course, that every freckle was cancer, every abdominal cramp in advanced pregnancy was labour...

Yikes!

Rachel was starting to stress herself, not that Libby would ever know it.

‘The bride’s just arrived.’ Rachel kept up a running commentary as Libby breathed through the pain. Now that Naomi was here, Rachel assumed that normal services would resume but, no, the groom had brought his bride-to-be over and was now introducing her to this mystery guest.

It was all rather fascinating, Rachel thought, and a brilliant start to the wedding, especially as the bride and groom were sharing a passionate kiss, but at the wrong end of the church.

‘Sev’s getting off with the bride,’ Rachel said. ‘And I think...’

And then she was silent because Daniil had brought the delicious stranger to sit with them.

He was so tall and broad that as he moved into the pew, Libby, who wanted to keep her place near the edge in case she needed a speedy exit, had to shrink back to let him past.

Rachel did the same and got the deep woody trace of his scent as he took his place beside her.

Oh, my!

He must be Roman, Rachel thought.

But, no, that wasn’t right. This guy was tall and dark but he didn’t look like Daniil, and weren’t he and Roman supposed to be identical twins?

She really couldn’t keep up.

‘Libby,’ Daniil said, as the vicar called for order and for the groom to release the bride from his embrace so they could get the service under way. ‘This is Nikolai, he’ll sit with you.’

Now things really were getting confusing, Rachel thought.

‘Don’t let him leave,’ Daniil added, and Rachel suppressed a smile.

Oh, she happily wouldn’t let him out of her sight.

Everyone stood as Sev and Naomi walked down the aisle hand in hand and Rachel frowned as she tried to work it out.

She turned and looked up at the man next to her.

He had black wavy hair and dark velvet brown eyes that did not turn at the awareness of her curiosity.

And Libby was right again—Rachel could be rather tactless at times.

‘Sorry.’ Rachel frowned as she peered at him and then gave a small shake of her head. ‘But now I’m really confused. Aren’t you the dead one?’

CHAPTER TWO

NIKOLAI DIDN’T ANSWER her question.

Yet that Sev had thought him dead had shaken him to the core.

In a brief exchange with his long-ago friend he had found out that Sev and Daniil had thought that he had killed himself and that Sev had thought it had been his fault.

Nikolai had just glimpsed the burden he had unwittingly placed on his friend and was in no mood to respond to Miss Curiosity’s question.

‘I’m Rachel,’ she offered.

‘I think we’re supposed to be paying attention to the service.’ Nikolai’s response was terse.

His voice made her want to say pardon, just for the chance to hear him repeat himself. It was deep and low and his accent so rich it made her toes curl. Rachel turned to Libby and they both frowned and pulled confused faces at each other.

There were so many questions but no time to answer them as they were now standing for the first hymn.

‘You can share mine,’ Rachel said generously when she saw that he didn’t have an order of service.

She was like a wasp hovering, Nikolai thought.

He had wanted to just see the service and leave.

And he would still do so, Nikolai decided.

He could not face the questions.

Or, worse, answering them.

‘Are you okay?’ he heard her say, and then realised that the question had not been aimed at him.

‘I’d better be!’ Libby responded with grim determination. ‘Stick close to me, Rachel.’

And then he felt, or rather heard, the woman beside him—Rachel—laugh.

It was an odd and unexpected reaction to an escalating situation and for some reason he almost smiled.

The fragrance she was wearing was possibly the scent of lying in a flower-drenched meadow in summer, not that he ever had, but Nikolai then decided that she was more like a bee.

Except her too-close proximity didn’t have the threat of a sting.

He looked at the pale hands that held the paper in front of him and it was the most pointless sharing ever because neither of them was singing.

‘Is she having pains?’ Nikolai asked.

‘Yes,’ Rachel said as the hymn ended and they took their seats. ‘But they’re ages apart.’

Her dress rode up as she took a seat and he was treated to a glimpse of freckly white thighs, and then he watched her fidget as she pulled her dress down.

And then there was another fidget as she went into her bag and took out some toffees and offered Libby one, but she shook her head.

He watched as the gold-foil-wrapped sweet was offered to him.

‘We’re not at the movies,’ he pointed out. Yet, again, even in uncomfortable circumstances he had the temptation to smile. She was slightly inappropriate, yet had made herself a companion when so many had simply stared.