When I got home, he smelled of cheap perfume and tasted of expensive whiskey. I’d only been able to say hello before he swept me up into his arms and devoured me with kisses. I would’ve guessed from the amused smile on his face that the bachelor party had been a huge success, except that he was home much earlier than I’d anticipated.

Home. Funny word, that. I was back on US soil, in a virtual stranger’s apartment, and yet with him I felt wholly at ease. Like I belonged here. But I did have to wonder why I’d come back that night. I’d had every chance to leave and walk away from the bizarre situation in which I’d found myself. My feet always led me back here, like I was on a string or rail, unable to deviate from my path.

After Sebastian went back to work after his morning off, I’d spent the afternoon with Gran, searching the classifieds for a job as well as keeping her company and recalling most of my adventures from abroad. Though, she was a perceptive woman, and the silly smile on my face hadn’t helped, so she kept asking me what I was up to now that I was back, and more importantly, if I’d met someone.

“Girlie, I know that look all too well,” she said and patted my knee. “The look that tells the world you’ve given part of your heart to someone special.”

“Gran, I—” I began.

“Don’t even try to deny it. Your mother had that same look when she’d met your father. Oy, what a whirlwind romance that was.”

I perked up at the mention of my parents. I knew the story of how they met all too well, but I never tired of hearing it. My hand went to the locket only to find the space empty. One day I would buy it back. I just had to hope that the old crone I’d sold it to would at least keep it out of view from prospective buyers for a little while.

Just like I had, Mom had wanted to explore the world after college and set off with a backpack and the world at her feet, starting her journey in Morocco. On the second day, she accidentally met my father, Nicholas Carrick, when they both spied a gold locket for sale.

They’d practically tussled over it. Two strangers, each haggling to buy what was probably a worthless fake, escalating the price, so much so that the street vendor in Marrakesh danced with excitement. My stubborn father wouldn’t give up, all the more spurred on by my mom’s own reluctance to let him win. In the end, though, he was triumphant. But seconds later, perhaps feeling guilty, he gave Mom the locket on the proviso that he take her to lunch.

After that day my parents were inseparable and for six blessed months, they traveled by each other’s sides, completely and utterly in love. Until tragedy struck in the form of an out-of-control car in the busy streets of Calcutta. My dad died instantly from the impact. After all the arrangements were made, my mom flew home with his body, a heart full of grief, and me growing in her belly. They’d never had the chance to get married, though I know from all the stories my mom told of my dad, they planned to do so as soon as they were back home after their adventures.

“So who is the lucky boy… or girl? I’m with the times, you know. Nothing would shock me,” Gran asked bringing me back to the present.

“Oh, Gran. I’m not so sure about that. My head is practically spinning for this man.”

She gave me a broad grin and nodded, as if pleased with my answer. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. You want the fires to blaze, your knees to shake, as powerful as an earthquake. Do not settle for anything less, my girl! Your mother didn’t!”

“Even then.”

“Even if it cost her?”

She blinked, a smile appearing on her face as her eyes clouded over as if remembering a time long ago. Trapped in a memory that was too good to push away.

“What is it, Gran?” I asked.

“Oh nothing, dear. Your mom would be happy you’ve found someone, even if you’re not going to tell me all about him,” she answered with a slight pout and a twinkle in her eye. Then her gaze drifted and suddenly she gasped. “Oh, my word…”

“Gran, are you okay? Should I call for the—”

She grasped my hand and pulled it toward her. Then I realized my foolish mistake.

“Anastasia Nicola Pavlov, is that an engagement ring on your finger?”

I blushed and tried to take my hand back, but the feisty old woman still had some strength left in her yet. “It might be,” I said trailing off.

“Dear lord. And you weren’t going to tell me?”

“Well, I was but—”

“But what? This is amazing news. I have to meet him. You have to tell me everything, right now young lady. I want details. All the romance I get nowadays is from these dusty old novels and Gregory two doors down who pinches my bottom.”

“Gran!” I blurted and giggled. “Are you and Gregory an item?”

“Hush, you don’t need to be hearing about that,” she said waving my question away. “I want to know about the man who’s captured my granddaughter’s heart.”

I sighed, but it wasn’t a sad sigh. At least not entirely, more of an “I don’t know what I’m going to do” kind of sigh. And where did I start explaining how we met to my gran? Could she even understand what I’d done and why I needed to lie?

“He’s probably the most generous man I’ve ever met.”

“And where did you meet?”

“At the airport,” I said suddenly deciding upon a story. I couldn’t tell her the full extent of the tale, but small snippets that would make sense. I hated skirting around the truth but she’d be mortified if she knew what I’d done. “He offered to give me a lift back to the city… and well, the rest is history.”

“Well as long as he makes you happy that’s the main thing. But Anna, you’ve only just met him. Are you quite sure marriage is what you want? Though I can’t blame you for rushing after what happened to your parents.”

I’d debated this with myself over and over. Even more so since Sebastian had dropped the bomb that the wedding was coming up so fast. He’d said it so casually, as if it was an afterthought, just as he’d drifted off to sleep. And though it shocked me to my core, I lay in bed that night next to the most gorgeous man—who’d stayed by my side through one of my rare, but dreaded panic attacks—and dreamed of the special day. It was crazy. There were no two ways about it. But thinking about wearing the dress he’d bought me and pledging myself to him forever didn’t seem at all silly. It felt like it was meant to be. And I couldn’t ignore that feeling.

Life was too short.

“Quite sure,” I replied with a wide smile and nod.

---

Sebastian enveloped me and pulled me into the bedroom, eager to strip me of my clothes. I could feel his need pressing against me as his mouth kissed my neck, leaving fluttering trembles in his wake.

I so wanted to give in, to let the whirlwind romance adventure continue, to let him take me again and forget about all the details that were bugging me. Like where on earth were we getting married, how and why had he planned it so fast? What time was the ceremony, and hell, who was going to do my makeup and hair? My messy bun or topknots I normally shoved my hair into certainly wouldn’t cut the mustard. Not to mention my inadequacy when it came to blending foundation and concealer. I made do with my everyday barefaced look, a bit of lip gloss, a swipe of mascara and I called it good. But for a wedding… oh god.

“Sebastian, wait,” I breathed, barely clinging to my fake accent.

He looked at me, eyes hooded and dreamy, but there was a smile and a glint in those eyes that made me think he knew something I didn’t. Like it was the best-kept secret in the entire world, and no matter if I asked him to tell, there would be no way I’d be able to pry it out of him.

I tried again, regardless. “Sebastian, we have to talk about tomorrow. The wedding?”

“No talking. There’ll be plenty of time for words later.”

“But—”

He took my face in his hands, thumbs smoothing over my cheeks.

“I’ve taken care of everything. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I need to have you again before…” he trailed off, and his Adam’s apple juddered as he swallowed hard. Like he was having trouble getting something down… or keeping something from coming out.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my arms wrapped around his neck.

“Absolutely nothing,” he replied and leaned in for a kiss. “Let’s forget everything and just enjoy each other. One last spectacular night before… before the sun comes up and—”

Before he could finish, I’d already pulled his lips to mine.

I didn’t want to know the truth.

Just like he said, I wanted to remain in our little bubble, safe and oblivious. With him loving me.

---

The next morning I awoke slowly, my arm searching for Sebastian, wanting to wrap my body around him again, to see if he would do that mind-blowing thing he did with his tongue one more time… if I asked nicely. But my hand skirted across his pillows, then down onto the cold sheets.

He wasn’t there.

Instead, in his place, my fingertips stumbled upon a folded note, tented, with my full name scrawled on it. I should’ve realized then the jig was up, but my loved-up mind skirted past the little clue.

I shuffled myself up the bed to a sitting position and through sleepy eyes focused on the note.

Forgive him? For what? On the back of the card was the location of the church and the time I was due to be there. My chest tightened as the realization was finally hitting me. Sebastian truly wanted to get married. This was no joke.

I put my fingers to my lips, clamping them together, to try and stop the smile from spreading. But it was no use. I was buzzing with excitement. To think that by the end of the afternoon I could be married to the man of my dreams. Knowing all the while that he wanted me too, wholeheartedly.

I spied a breakfast try on the bedside table and lifted the domed lid to reveal scrambled eggs on toast, with slices of smoked salmon. I chewed on the toast wondering how Sebastian would react if I told him the truth before the ceremony. Would he still want to go ahead and marry me? Could I risk losing him? I didn’t want to trap him, but I wasn’t sure if I could handle the look of disappointment on his face once he found out who I was, and how ever since we’d met I’d played a part, acted like I was someone else.

Would he ever believe another word I ever said? Would he ever believe that I loved him? Or would he always think I’d been using him?

I pushed the tray away and motioned toward the shower. There was still time to decide what I was going to do. But I knew I was only fooling myself. I wanted to hand the decision over to someone else, be free of it.

A few short hours later, I stood in front of a full-length mirror in the bedroom, barely able to recognize the woman staring back. To say that I’d been transformed would have been an understatement.

My hair had been teased, blow-dried, and smoothed down to create an effortless look of delicate waves that draped below my shoulders. The make-up artist, Kiyoshi, a petite, animated woman, was an absolute genius, I wanted to keep her around forever, have her on staff to do my face every morning. She was a miracle-worker. Somehow she’d managed to even out my pale skin tone and yet still allowed a smattering of my freckles to appear, giving me a glowing yet natural look.

After the hairdresser was finished and Kiyoshi applied some last-minute touches, I was left alone, standing still in the middle of the bedroom, undecided and debating with myself. Swishing the dress, the tulle skirt and its many layers made me feel like a princess. I could definitely see myself getting married to Sebastian in this getup. And the shoes that I’d missed the first time around when the dress was delivered fit like two heavenly gloves. There was no pinching around the heels as I walked back and forth in the living room, keeping time with the loud tick-tock of the wall clock. It was like walking on air.

In five minutes Big Jim would buzz up to tell me he was here to pick me up. And then I would have to make a decision. Go to the church and get married—or bail.

I felt sick with nerves. None were for the actual act of getting married; that I knew I could do. It was making the wrong decision that had me clutching my throat, wishing someone would tell me what to do.

The intercom by the door buzzed.

Time had run out.

And yet I found my feet choose for me. I picked up my phone off the side table as I went past and headed out. Today was my wedding day.

---

Big Jim greeted me with a cautious smile and a nod, opening doors for me out of the apartment complex. I had to stop suddenly when my eyes landed on the vehicle that was directly outside. Gone was the familiar town car I’d been expecting and in its place was a creamy, vintage Rolls Royce, complete with ribbons on its windshield.

“After you, Miss Pavlov,” Big Jim said as he pulled the rear door open for me.

Sebastian had gone above and beyond this time, making sure that I arrived in style. My heart warmed at his thoughtfulness.

Gathering up the airy layers and lengths of my dress I slipped inside the carriage that was surely made for royalty and tried not to talk myself out of what I was about to do. I was going to the church. I wouldn’t doubt my instincts. I wouldn’t let myself. Not when Sebastian had become my everything.

I couldn’t abandon him now. Couldn’t disappear without him ever knowing why I never turned up. I couldn’t be the person responsible for the man at the end of the altar, his heart in pieces.

The car dipped as Big Jim took his place up front. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror then half turned. “Are you all set?”

I took a breath and nodded.

“All right then, off to the church.”

In my hand my phone buzzed and I glanced at the screen; an incoming call from a number I didn’t recognize. I ran through all the people who had my number, it was a very short list, mainly consisting of Sebastian and Big Jim’s car service. Yet there was one that had my skin coming out in a wave of goose bumps as if I’d been plunged into an ice bath.

“Hello?”

For the next few seconds, I listened to the rapid fire of information coming from the person on the other end of the line. Trying to take in exactly what the nurse was telling me, and then asking them to repeat it just in case my wedding-addled brain had missed something. It hadn’t. Dread pooled in my stomach as I ended the call.

“Turn the car around,” I said, my voice not quite loud enough for Big Jim to understand my words only for him to know I had said something.

He gave me a questioning look in the mirror, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting as a frown developed.

“Turn the car around! Right now!” I yelled, dropping any semblance of a Russian accent.

“But we’ll be late.”

“I don’t care. We’re not going to the church anymore.”

Frantic now, I pushed myself off the seat, holding out the screen of my phone with the Google Maps app displayed. Big Jim stared at me in horror and I could feel the tears welling up. I forced them back where they belonged, down deep, tears wouldn’t help me now.

“Get me here as fast as you can. I don’t care what you have to do… please just drive.”

Perhaps seeing the distress on my face or hearing the fear in my voice, Big Jim finally stopped getting in my way, turned his attention back to the road and promptly pulled an illegal U-turn.