Modern Romance Collection February 2025, #5-8

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

‘L OOK ,’ M ARI SAID as they made their way along the Las Vegas strip, pointing out yet another wedding chapel in a city that boasted dozens, this one a squat white building with a sign out front, ‘there’s another one. “Heavenly Wedding Chapel. Where happy new beginnings are guaranteed.”’

She regarded it critically. ‘I see they’re not so confident about the happy-ever-afters.’ Her head swung around. ‘Maybe you should have booked that one.’

Dom bristled. Clearly, she’d slept a lot better than he had. And okay, so this wedding might be fake, but he really didn’t need Marianne joking about it. Right now, he was wound tighter than a coiled spring. He was so close to achieving what he’d set out to do, but he was wondering if he’d made a huge mistake. Why had he ever imagined this plan would work? It had seemed so simple at the outset. Find someone to marry, preferably someone who would be all too happy to get divorced in short order. Someone who had no expectation or desire to stay married.

Enter Mari. The perfect candidate, he’d thought, with her grievance dial turned up to ten and her professed hatred of him off the scale. And she’d agreed to marry him, even if he was paying mightily for the privilege.

But something supposedly so simple was turning out to be a whole lot more complicated. Being anywhere near her was like wrestling with sandpaper. She was aggravating, uncompromising and prickly as hell. And all because of what? Because of something he’d done—or rather not done—half a lifetime ago. Because their relationship had fizzled out, the geographical separation and the business and family responsibilities he’d assumed on the death of his father making the continuation of their relationship an impossibility. There was no way he could have left his grieving mother.

He’d explained all that to Mari at the time. And no, it hadn’t been easy, it had just about torn him in two, but it would have been unfair to keep her hanging on for his return when he didn’t know when that might be possible. She was better off finishing her university degree and getting on with her life.

It was the only sensible thing to be done. It was the grown-up thing to do.

He’d thought she’d understood. She’d voiced no protest or argued that she’d wait for him, however long it might be. There were no tearful pleas for him to reconsider. Instead, she’d quietly agreed that it was probably for the best. And it was, but it had hurt like hell that she’d so readily agreed.

So quiet, so self-contained that he’d half wondered after he’d hung up whether she’d already found somebody else.

Something that he’d subsequently learned to be true.

And yet she was mad at him? The woman he’d once thought such a free spirit sure could hold a grudge.

It was infuriating.

She was infuriating.

The limousine from the Bellagio Hotel that had picked them up from the plane delivered them to the Clark County Marriage License Bureau to obtain their Nevada marriage licence.

The wedding industry in Las Vegas was nothing if not slick. In a little over two hours they’d be man and wife.

Could Marianne convincingly play the part of loving newlywed—enough to convince his mother that they were in love and truly married? Would this work? It had to work. He knew that they could make it work. He knew that they could look convincing. Because he remembered the sex they’d once shared. Marianne had been explosive in bed. He’d loved watching her face when she climaxed. He’d loved the feel of her body against his. They’d been good together.

They could be good together now if she bothered to make an effort. He knew that. He’d proved it when he’d kissed her in the restaurant. She’d all but melted in his arms and she’d felt and tasted so good. Just like she had back then. Just like he remembered, and he was more than curious to find out if grown-up Marianne was anything like the responsive lover the teenage Marianne had been.

No sex , she’d stipulated.

Ridiculous. They were adults and it was just sex, and she’d be far more relaxed around him if they got the bedroom business out of the way. She’d be far more convincing playing her part.

A marriage in name only .

That was what Marianne had insisted upon, even though it made their job of looking connected—in love—harder. What if his plan didn’t work? What if his mother saw through the plan and discovered it was all a lie? She’d be gutted. Betrayed by her only son in her final days and weeks. And Dom would never be able to hold his head up again.

The chauffeur was waiting to open Dom’s door, but Dom held up one long-fingered hand in a stop gesture. He wore his tension like a pressing weight, like he was being crushed by it. And for the first time Mari felt sympathy for him, trying to fulfil his mother’s impossible dying wish the only way he could and getting stuck with Mari into the deal. And she regretted her joking and making light of something so important to him. She felt for him, and felt the weight of the pressure upon him.

‘Are you sure you want to go through with this?’

The clench of his jaw and the tic in his cheek told her he wasn’t, then he put down his hand and let the chauffeur open his door. ‘I have no choice,’ he said.

The dry desert heat rushed in to fill the vacuum he’d left behind, air that was now infused with the scent of the man who’d surged through it. Dominico with a triple serving of heat.

The scent transported her back in time to when they were both students. The day had been blisteringly hot, the sun a molten ball in the sky, and like most of Sydney, or so it seemed, they’d made their way to the crowded Bondi Beach to cool off in the surf. Dom and Mari had emerged from the waves exhausted and collapsed onto their towels, panting as they lay on their backs, arms over their eyes to block out the sun, when he’d rolled over and kissed her, filling her mouth with the taste of summer. Hot, salty and delicious.

‘What was that for?’ she asked when he lifted his head, curling her arms around his neck to keep him close.

‘Just to remind you that I love you, Marianne,’ he said, raining kisses down on her nose and cheeks and lips. ‘For ever and a day.’

‘I accept,’ Marianne said, grinning up at him, blissfully happy but for the one cloud on the horizon that loomed ever closer. ‘I just wish you didn’t have to go home so soon. What are we going to do when you return to Spain?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ he said, sweeping a salty tendril of her hair from her forehead. ‘I’m going to ask my parents if I can stay for one more semester—make it a full gap year.’

Hope flared in her chest. ‘Do you think they’ll agree?’

‘Papá wants me back to learn the business, but he’s the one who wanted me to experience the Australian lifestyle. Besides,’ he said, kissing her again, ‘he knows how important you are to me. And six more months together means six less months until you finish your degree and can join me in Spain. I’ll call him tonight.’

And that one cloud on the horizon burned off in the blaze of a summer sun and a future filled with promise. A future filled with love.

Dom lay down next to her, placed his arm under her head and nestled her close to his body.

She breathed his scent in, long and hard. Before Dom she’d never associated the aroma of a man’s body with anything positive. But Dom’s particular scent wasn’t just alluring, it was addictive. A heady combination of salt and sweat and a body grown up on the best Spanish olive oil. ‘Nobody in the world ever smelled as good as you,’ she told him, drinking in the musky tang of his skin.

He chuckled. ‘You’re crazy,’ he said, pressing his lips to her hair.

‘Yeah, crazy,’ she agreed, nestling closer against him. ‘Crazy in love. With you.’

So crazy in love she’d been. Now she was just crazy. This whole plan of Dom’s was crazy. But he was doing it for all the right reasons. He was doing it for his mother. Even if it was insane, he was acting out of love.

Maybe she could try to be a bit more cooperative. After all, it wasn’t like there was nothing in it for her. Whenever Rosaria succumbed to her disease and there was no need for this marriage, Mari would walk away with her millions of dollars and never have to see Dom again. It wasn’t for ever. Maybe if she thought more about making Rosaria’s final wish come true it would ease the torture of being with him now.

Dom rounded the car and opened her door, reaching out a hand to her. She took it and felt his fingers wrap around hers, felt the jolt of recognition like a muscle memory as she alighted from the car. His jaw was still clenched, his eyes hard. He was hating this, hating the whole charade, hating that his perfect plan had a downside and that marrying someone who hated him was never going to make for a comfortable ride.

‘It’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘It’ll work out, you’ll see.’

He frowned at her, as if trying to work out who this new Marianne was—a Marianne who didn’t snarl and backbite and add bricks to the wall the past had built between them.

Then he turned. ‘Come on. We have a marriage licence to procure.’

It was a fifteen-minute drive from the marriage licence bureau to the Bellagio Hotel where Dom had told her he had booked a suite for them to freshen up and dress. Their wedding would be held in the intimate East Chapel.

A suite for less than four hours in one of the fanciest resorts in Las Vegas.

A marriage in one of their posh chapels.

Dom was not sparing any expense.

Did Dom not know that he could have booked a drive-through wedding and saved all the fuss, along with a fistful of dollars? Not that she was going to mention it. She was done with making light of it. He’d been thoroughly unimpressed with her comment about the Heavenly Wedding Chapel.

And then she saw the curved white walls of the Bellagio Hotel, a central tower flanked by two wings. It rose from the desert like a standing butterfly holding its wings aloft.

And Mari knew why Dom had chosen this venue. Because sure, this might be a Las Vegas wedding, but it was no cheap wedding chapel affair. Dom wasn’t splashing a fistful of dollars for nothing, but because nothing but the best would be enough to satisfy any doubters that their hasty Las Vegas wedding was anything but genuine.

The two-bedroom penthouse suite Dom had booked was opulent and sumptuous and looked out over the Bellagio’s famous fountains, not that there was any time to enjoy the view. The wedding planners at Bellagio had thought of everything. They’d organised a hairdresser who coiled Mari’s hair into a sleek updo before the make-up artist took over. Finally, a dresser arrived to help Mari into her ivory gown, a minimalist sleeveless design with freshwater pearl beading to the shoulders and draping across the open back. A small train pooled at her feet.

Her team declared her done, cooing their approval as they packed up their gear. There came a knock on the door.

‘Marianne,’ Dom said, ‘are you ready? It’s time.’

Mari blew out a breath and took one last look in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognise herself. The make-up artist had done something clever with her eyes, making them appear larger, the eye shadow shade accentuating the green of her eyes. Her hair was styled in a romantic updo, tendrils framing her face, the clever chestnut highlights added in Melbourne gleaming under the lights. She stood while her dresser went to the door. ‘She’s ready,’ the woman said. ‘Come take a look.’

She opened the door wide so Dom could see inside the room, to where Mari was standing, waiting for his reaction. Hoping for his approval. After all, he was spending a lot of money and she wanted him to be satisfied. She wanted to think she looked the part, not for her own sake but because of Rosaria, she told herself.

Dom didn’t speak. He just stared, looking her up and down and up again.

‘Breathtaking,’ he announced. Her team squealed with delight while Mari’s every cell shimmered. Because Dom was his own kind of breathtaking, in a snowy white shirt, dark suit and a charcoal-coloured tie at his throat. And that was just what he was wearing. His gaze hadn’t left her, dark eyes filled with wonder. Wonder, and something far more elemental.

‘But I think there is something missing.’

‘What?’

He crossed the carpet between them and pulled a box from his pocket.

‘Surely we’ll do wedding rings at the service.’

‘Not a wedding ring,’ he said. ‘A gift for you. I found them downstairs.’

Them?

‘No,’ she said, afraid of what was inside. ‘You’ve already spent too much on this wedding.’

‘It’s a thank-you gift, nothing more.’

He held open the box and Mari’s eyes opened wide. A pair of exquisite Edwardian chandelier earrings met her gaze. She looked up at him. ‘Please tell me they’re not—’

‘Diamonds? What kind of wedding gift would it be if they were not diamonds?’

‘But it’s too much.’

‘It’s exactly the right amount of much.’

She shook her head. What he’d just said did not make sense. None of it made sense.

‘Try them on,’ he said.

‘All right.’ She removed her favourite shepherd hook pearl earrings she’d been wearing, thinking they would do perfectly, and replaced them with the diamond chandelier earrings before turning to the mirror.

Oh, my. The earrings with their stunning Edwardian design perfectly complemented her minimalist gown, the faces of the rose cut diamonds glittering in the light. ‘They’re beautiful.’

‘As are you,’ he said, his voice sounding deeper. He coughed, as if clearing the army of frogs that had taken residence in his throat. He held out his arm and passed her the ribbon-wrapped bunch of roses that was her bouquet. ‘Are you ready?’

They created quite the stir as they made their way to the East Chapel. Guests parted and made way for them, the women beaming and clutching hands to their chests, everyone offering good wishes and congratulations. If only they knew, thought Mari.

‘Look at the bride,’ a young girl said as they passed. ‘She’s so pretty.’

‘Uh-huh,’ the mother said, and Mari smiled because the mother’s eyes were firmly fixed on Dom.

The good wishes followed them all the way to the chapel where the formalities took just a moment before they were in the chapel proper. A smallish room, high-ceilinged with chandelier lighting, panelled walls and gold curtains half opened over tall arched windows to let in more light. The pews were decorated in antique gold, the carpet in rich burgundy and gold swirls adding a richness to the decor. Flowers decorated the ends of the pews, their one hired witness sitting waiting.

Mari felt a sudden flutter of nerves. Focusing on the details—the dressing, the hair and make-up—had taken her mind off what was happening. But this was it. Pretend or no, she was about to walk down that aisle and marry Dominico Estefan. Once upon a time she’d dreamed of this moment. She’d dreamed night after night that it would happen. Until her dreams had turned to nightmares and her world had collapsed.

And yet, twenty years later, here she was, in a wedding chapel halfway around the world marrying the man she’d once most wanted to, the same man she least wanted to now.

The man who’d been the father of her babies. The man waiting at the altar with the celebrant. The man who looked like he half wanted this marriage for real. The man who had gifted her diamond earrings as if he wasn’t already paying her enough. Why the kindness? Why a gift that she didn’t deserve? It was impossible to read him. She knew he just wanted this done and to be over. He wanted to get back to Spain and show his mother that her dying wish had been fulfilled. That she didn’t have to worry about him any more. That was all he wanted.

But he was waiting right now to marry her .

The past collided with the present and it was too much.

Halfway down the aisle her steps faltered. A sound like a sob escaped her mouth, two fat tears escaped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

And the man waiting for her frowned and took a faltering step towards her. ‘Are you all right?’

She sniffed and nodded, regaining her composure, and forced her feet to resume their journey.

‘You’re crying,’ he said, his eyes searching her face.

‘I’m okay,’ she said.

But then he touched the pads of his thumbs to her cheeks to sweep the tears away. She closed her eyes as his thumbs glided across her skin. She couldn’t look at him in case he saw what was in her mind, all because of a touch that reminded her of how he’d once treated her: like she was the most precious object in the world.

A touch so gentle that her breath hitched, and she almost came undone again.

Because it was wrong. It was cruel. It was so unfair of him to hurl her back to the before , when everything had been perfect between them, when she needed to focus on the after . She so desperately needed to remember the after.

She opened her eyes to see him looking down at her, his brow creased, as if he actually cared.

‘Okay now?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, even though she felt a long way from fine.

‘In that case,’ said the celebrant, ‘perhaps we might proceed.’

There was talk of the meaning of marriage, the question of intent and then it was time for the vows and the rings to be exchanged, before the final pronouncement came. Dominico and Mari were married. It had taken longer than twenty years to happen and yet the ceremony had lasted less than fifteen minutes.

‘You may kiss the bride,’ the celebrant invited.

This was the part Mari was dreading. He’d kissed her until she was boneless at the restaurant. She couldn’t afford for him to have that kind of power over her, and yet…

And yet part of her wanted to feel that magic of being swept away again. Nobody had made her feel that way after Dom and it had been so long. Why wouldn’t her traitorous body respond? Dom’s kiss was like a drug she knew she shouldn’t take, and yet she couldn’t stop herself.

She braced herself for the onslaught of his lips. But what met hers was softness, tender and sweet and infused with the scent of his skin and the taste of his breath. He didn’t rush, he didn’t pull away early, he lingered, his tongue gently sweeping the line of her lips as his fingers stroked her bare back. And if anything, it was more impactful than the kiss he’d given her in the restaurant, when he’d taken her unawares and ramraided through her defences.

This kiss was bittersweet and poignant.

This kiss was perfection.

And once again two tears rolled down her cheeks. She was married to Dominic Estefan, not in the way she’d once imagined and hoped, but legally married.

It wasn’t the way she’d always imagined, it might be a faux marriage, but once this deception was over and she wasn’t needed any more, and once she’d returned to Melbourne to resume her average unglamorous life, she’d remember these moments for ever. The tenderness of his kiss, the gifting of the diamond earrings. Both things Dom hadn’t had to do—and yet he had.

It was only when she turned to walk back down the aisle on Dom’s arm that she saw the photographer clicking away, capturing it all, and cynicism kicked in again. Okay, so the earrings were a nice thought, but the kiss was just as much performance art as the dinner kiss, fodder for the photographers. Even if it had been the best kiss she could remember.

God, she was a sucker.

Her cynicism hit pay dirt when they moved to the terrace with the famous Bellagio fountain as backdrop for the money shot, and still, in spite of her cynicism, Mari found it impossible not to buy into the fantasy. The setting was so fantastical, so magical, that it was impossible not to be carried away by the moment. Dom was in high spirits, so different to how he’d been after they’d landed. From relief or something else? Mari couldn’t tell, but he looked as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders.

The photographer clicked away, Dom and Mari together in front of the fountain, Dom’s arms around her, Mari’s arms around his neck, when Dom suddenly dipped her low to one side. She looked up at him in surprise at the sudden move—she knew she was safe; he wouldn’t let her fall—but she hadn’t been expecting it.

‘Are you happy with your wedding, Senora Estefan?’

He was so unexpectedly light-hearted that Mari couldn’t help but answer, ‘I can honestly say it’s the best wedding I’ve ever had.’

He chuckled, his eyes locking on hers, before he brought his smiling lips closer.

Mari’s focus was torn between watching his eyes and his mouth. She wanted to drink him in, all of him. And damn it, if Dom was after a money shot, she wasn’t about to object.

Not if it meant he would kiss her again.

She could act as much as he could.