Chapter 10
The next morning, I am woken by a tap on the door.
Throwing on a hotel bathrobe, I drag myself over to open it.
Cherry is standing outside, holding a massive bouquet of flowers.
‘These got delivered to my room by mistake. The hotel has you down as sharing with Liberty,’ Cherry says, stomping past me into the room.
‘Are you sure they’re for me?’ I say, sounding disappointed as I take the bouquet from her.
‘I’ll give you a hand arranging them.’
‘You could always take them back to your room?’
Jeez, I hope she’s not looking to stay for long. Matteo pulls the covers over himself. He is finding Cherry barging into our room very intrusive, by the expression on his face.
‘I’m not sure we have room for them.’
My soul deflates. Matteo is watching me from the bed. The bouquet is so huge it takes both arms to carry it.
‘Luke’s certainly committing to this midnight proposal,’ says Cherry. ‘I’ll give him that. There are another three bunches like this outside the door.’
Christ Almighty.
I plonk them down on the table near the window.
They are exquisite. He must have paid a fortune.
‘There’s no note.’ I let out a huge sigh.
‘First the video, now enough flowers to open my own florist shop. I’m going to have to tell him to back off.
We’re work colleagues and nothing more. At this rate, we won’t be able to sing together because he’s making it too awkward.
The Sinfonia will probably ask me to leave. ’
Cherry walks over to the window and stands staring out across the city.
‘That would be constructive dismissal. You’d never work again.
You don’t want to do that. Nice room.’ She sweeps her gaze around.
‘Spacious. Much better than mine. Much better.’ A sorrowful expression sweeps over her pretty face. ‘It reminds me of my honeymoon.’
Oh, God. Please don’t kick off about our upgrade. I cross my fingers behind my back. I can see Matteo tense. He’s trapped in the bed because he’s naked underneath those sheets. He’s pulled them up to his chin, clearly uncomfortable. I need to get Cherry out of here.
‘Did you know that there are no clocks anywhere in this place? How is anyone supposed to know when to stop gambling?’ she says, fussing with the flowers, her voice jittery.
By checking the time on our phones?
‘I haven’t been to bed yet,’ she says, as though it’s entirely the hotel’s fault. ‘Not sure it’s worth the bother now.’
‘But you’ll be okay for the soundcheck later, though?’
Cherry looks at me blankly.
‘For our performance today? You’ve got the costumes and the running list? You’re still in charge of choreography?’
It’s as though this is all news to her.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she says, busy flower arranging. ‘How am I supposed to remember any of this stuff?’
Oh, my word.
‘I have an idea,’ she says suddenly, her mind jumping about. ‘I think it’ll put both Luke and Birdie off chasing you.’
‘What is it?’
‘You could play them at their own game. A sort of matrimonium putativum.’
I stare at her. I’d quite forgotten she’s an experienced paralegal with a near-photographic memory.
‘You could pretend to get married,’ she clarifies. ‘Send a clear message that neither of you is available. What do you think?’ she says, and her eyes widen as she looks from Matteo to me.
I’d love to marry him, is what I think. But I must play it cool. I’ll see how Matteo reacts to this bonkers plan first before I show a shred of interest.
Matteo regards Cherry for a few seconds. ‘Seems a bit insane.’
‘That’s love for you. Sometimes it makes you do crazy things. But that’s also why it’ll work.’ We watch her pluck a rose from the bouquet on her way out. ‘See you later. There’s something I need to do.’
When the door closes, Matteo lets out a puff of air. ‘What do you think?’
‘As in, do I think we should get fake married?’ I say, walking back towards the bed.
I suppress the urge to leap in the air with glee.
‘How could we even possibly make that happen? I mean, when would we even…? Where would we…? How would we…?’ I pretend to chuckle as though this is the most ridiculous suggestion anyone’s ever made in the whole history of suggestions.
Gah! I’d bloody love to bloody marry him.
He’s bloody gorgeous. My pulse is racing.
He arches an eyebrow. ‘If only we were in a city that has a wedding chapel on every street corner,’ he says dryly. ‘A city renowned the world over for marrying couples on a whim, just because they’ve had too many margaritas.’ He pretends to scratch his chin in thought. ‘Such a shame.’
‘Okay, smart-ass,’ I say. I am literally turning into an American. ‘What do you really think about it?’
I’m impressed he hasn’t run a mile at the mere thought. I try not to ogle him as he slips from the bed. He stands naked and completely comfortable in front of me. It sends sharp pangs of longing straight to below my waist. ‘I’ll show you exactly what I think.’
I bite my lower lip suggestively. ‘How about you show me in the shower?’
* * *
Before we meet the others for our first activity of the day – the SlotZilla zip line through Fremont Street – Matteo and I make our way down to the centre of the hotel, the canal shopping mall.
We stand on the bridge, which is already quite busy with people watching the boats.
I am still reeling from our shower, which began as soon as I suggested it.
Matteo had slipped the bathrobe from my body and walked me over to stand naked in front of the window, where he brushed the hair from my neck and trailed kisses from my ear down to my shoulder.
For a moment I was quite shocked. ‘It’s a mirrored window.
No one can see us.’ His knuckles had grazed my breasts as they snaked lazily across my stomach down towards my lady parts, leaving a wave of shivers in their wake.
He rubbed his fingers gently over my sweet spot until I moaned for more, begging for release as he slipped them inside.
I arched back against him with the whole city spread out before us.
‘I can’t control myself around you,’ he said, his voice breaking and his words melting on my hot skin.
Matteo points to a gondola now, snapping me out of the delicious memory.
‘There. We do it in there.’
‘Do what? In where?’
‘Look closely.’
My breath hitches in surprise as I home in on a couple floating underneath us in a white gondola. She is wearing a beautiful wedding dress. He is wearing a traditional tux.
‘Couples can get married in the gondolas. I noticed it yesterday. Must be an alternative to the Vegas chapels.’ Matteo smiles at me. ‘If we did go through with it, we’d need to arrange for Luke and Birdie to be on this very bridge as we pass beneath.’
I gulp. It sounds so easy. ‘Our timing would have to be perfect.’
‘And we’d need some wedding clothes,’ he says, pointing at the same couple floating by. ‘Maybe not that fancy but…’
I nod. ‘Yeah. I’m sure my credit card can make room for a cheap wedding dress. Unless we wear the bed sheets and have a toga theme going.’
Matteo smiles. ‘Somehow, I don’t think that will convince them.’
The boats are full of happy couples floating on the canal.
Some are getting married and standing in front of wedding officiators, and some are lounging in each other’s arms on a bed of elaborately coloured velvet cushions as they are serenaded with Italian opera.
They all have something in common. They are extremely happy and madly in love.
Suddenly, part of me really wants this to be real, not fake. The indecision must show on my face.
‘Hey. Hey.’ He reaches out to stroke my hair gently. ‘If you don’t like it, that’s fine. We’ll think of another way. It was a crazy idea anyway.’
I take a deep breath. Matteo has such a kind face.
But we barely know each other. It would be madness to get married for real, then to start dating, then to get to know each other.
But he is ridiculously handsome and kind and generous and funny and our sexual chemistry is off-the-charts amazing.
What’s the harm in having a practice run?
‘Let’s do it,’ I say. ‘Let’s get fake married.’ I’m sure I can squeeze in a harmless little wedding to our already overfull schedule.
* * *
We almost skip along to meet the others for breakfast, giggling like teenage girls over how to make the fake wedding a reality.
There’s a choice of officiators but, for a million reasons, we both agreed Elvis would be the perfect pick.
And because we feel the need to act swiftly, without a multitude of strong opinions on everything from our fashion choices (no, no, no, you can’t wear that) to the ceremony itself (no, babes, not there, not like that), we’ve decided not to involve the others in the planning, for fear it will escalate into a celebrity-style wedding with soaring costs and unmanageable expectations, until we’ve done it all and then we’ll tell them.
Plus, having to keep it secret has brought a rather exciting frisson to our relationship.
We stop talking as we approach the table.
The Dollz are already discussing our first performance tonight at the Cocktail Hour Lounge and Bar.
No one seems remotely surprised to see Hank Junior being fed long strips of crispy bacon by Liberty.
She is making him reach up to gobble at them.
He seems helpless to do anything but obey.