Million Dollar Christmas Bride - Holly Rayner Page 0,53

it without the money.”

“But I signed a contract,” Bianca said.

“We’ll get a lawyer.”

Bianca pursed her lips. She backed away from her mother as Mary Wylde moved closer. She didn’t want to risk being overheard. “It’s a nice hotel, isn’t it?” she said in a bright, cheerful voice.

“Where’s Peaches?” Helen asked.

“They don’t allow pets,” Bianca said.

“Well then, it’s not that nice in my book,” Helen said.

Mary spoke up. “It’s one of the finest hotels in the city. I approve.” She strode ahead without waiting for a response.

The granite steps that led up to the hotel’s front doors were covered in a thin layer of partially melted snow. Bianca’s heels splashed through the slush as she climbed slowly, keeping pace with her mom.

Jackson, whose attention had been diverted by his best man, was still back on the sidewalk when Bianca entered the hotel lobby. She was immediately whisked off by a heavily made-up woman who was carrying a little silver box that looked like a miniature suitcase. Her perfume was so strong that Bianca almost gagged.

“I have everything set up in the bridal suite,” the perfumed woman said.

“Hm?” Bianca said.

“The bridal suite. I’m going to do your makeup—remember? Your hairdresser is there as well. We’re behind schedule so we’d better hurry.”

Bianca groaned. She’d completely forgotten that she and Jackson had booked two rooms in the hotel, one for the groomsmen and one for the bridal party.

That was back when we were getting along, and I was actually looking forward to all of this, she thought. She remembered how she’d fantasized about sipping a mimosa with Jackson’s sister, whom she didn’t even know at the time. It had all sounded so exciting.

I was such a fool, she thought. This isn’t exciting. This is wrong. We’re lying to so many people. And even worse than that—we’re lying to each other.

I have feelings for Jackson, and they’re not just going to go away as time goes on.

I have to tell him how I feel.

Inside the bridal suite, a table was filled to the brim with bouquets. Another table boasted of brunch foods, champagne, orange juice, and even bridal favor bags that Bianca could barely remember ordering.

For the next hour, Bianca suffered through an endless stream of preparations that she was in no mood to contend with. The makeup artist completely removed all of the blush, eyeliner, and mascara that Bianca had applied that morning, and then reapplied layers with an expert hand. A hairdresser twisted Bianca’s locks into a complex updo that made Bianca’s head hurt. Then, she was ushered out to a courtyard near the back of the hotel, where a photographer took what felt like a million snapshots. The first photos were of only Bianca. Then, one by one, other guests and wedding-party members were staged by her side. Bianca was instructed to turn to the left, lift her chin, smile. Then again, “cheer up a little bit, hon, it’s your wedding day!”

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. It felt so useless to pose for pictures when the images captured would be so meaningless down the road. Why would she or Jackson want to remember the day? It was all pretend. Not real. Not worth remembering.

“That’s enough,” she told the photographer. “I’m sure you got what you need.”

The photographer looked dismayed. “I’m sorry, but I usually have a checklist that I follow.” He pulled a notepad from the pocket of his blazer and glanced down at it. “I still need to get one of you and the groom, the immediate family, you and your bridesmaids, you with—”

“I’m not feeling well,” Bianca said. For once, she was telling the complete truth. She was cold, woozy with anxiety, and sick to her stomach about the state of things between herself and Jackson. She hugged her arms around her torso. “I’m so sorry—I just have to go, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a response. Instead she brushed past the photographer and hurried through a set of doors that led back into the hotel.

The hallway, long and wide, was covered in carpeting so plush that her heels sank in. She felt slightly lost as she moved past door after door, and finally reached a turning point. She turned right and spotted a hallway that she recognized. It led to the lobby. As she walked down it, she passed a tall mirror and she stopped in front of it.

For the first time since arriving at the hotel, she was alone. It was a relief to stop trying to paste