Chapter 1 - THE STRANGER AT TABLE TWELVE|
My ex-husband called my daughter a mistake in front of two hundred wedding guests, and a stranger at the bar heard every word.
I hadn’t noticed the stranger yet.
I was too busy trying not to cry in front of my whole family.
My sister Sophia looked radiant in her white gown, all lace and pearls and twenty-three-year-old optimism.
I watched her from my assigned seat at table twelve, the family overflow section, tucked beside the kitchen doors where catering staff rushed past with trays of champagne I couldn’t afford to drink.
The Grand Marquis Ballroom in downtown Chicago was everything a wedding venue should be.
I had walked in at seven-thirty, alone, twenty-eight years old, a single mother in a dress I’d bought two years ago that still looked decent if nobody examined the hem.
My cousin Vanessa had swept past me in the receiving line, her designer gown showing off a seven-month belly she wore like a crown.
Her husband was my ex-husband.
Tyler was the man who walked out the day the pregnancy test came back positive, and married my wealthy cousin six months later.
“Jessica, darling, you came alone?”
My mother had appeared at my table during cocktail hour, my father trailing behind her with the uncomfortable look he wore whenever he had to acknowledge my failures.
“We’d hoped you might bring someone. There are several eligible men here from the Martinelli family. They own that restaurant chain.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” I forced a smile. “Lily sends her love to Sophia.”
“Oh, yes. The baby.”
My mother had a gift for making a five-year-old sound like a clerical error.
“Camilla’s watching her, I assume. Such a shame you can’t afford a real nanny.”
Dinner dragged on, and then the dancing began.
Outside, a storm had rolled in over the skyline, and rain was streaming down the glass in sheets, smearing the city lights into streaks of color.
“May I have this dance?”
Every muscle in my body went tight.
Tyler stood behind my chair, alone.
“No, thank you.” I kept my voice level, the same tone I used on difficult parents in the pediatric ward.
“Come on, Jess. For old time’s sake.” He gave me the boyish smile that had worked on me once, before I understood it was all he had. “We can be adults about this.”
“We are being adults. That’s why I’m declining.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this between us. I made mistakes, but—”
“Tyler.” I stood, suddenly exhausted by the whole charade. “Go back to your pregnant wife. Dance with her. Leave me alone.”
“My pregnant wife,” he said, “who’s carrying my legitimate child.”
And there it was, the cruelty that always lived underneath the charm.
He didn’t lower his voice.
“Unlike the mistake that cost you your medical degree.”
Heads turned at the nearest tables.
I should have slapped him.
Instead I stood there with my hands shaking while he strolled back to Vanessa, who watched me from the edge of the dance floor with one hand on her belly and a victor’s smile.
The music slowed.
Couples filled the floor, swaying together while the storm outside matched the one building in my chest.
I sank back into my chair at table twelve and tried very hard not to cry in front of two hundred people who already pitied me.
That’s when I finally noticed him.
He stood near the bar, apart from the crowd, and somehow commanded the whole room without moving.
Tall, maybe six-three, dark hair cut short, a black suit tailored so well it could never have come off a department store rack.
But it was his face that held me.
Sharp cheekbones, a jaw that looked carved from stone, and eyes that even across the ballroom seemed to see straight through every defense I’d spent years building.
He was watching me.
He studied me with an intensity that should have made me uncomfortable, and instead sent a different kind of shiver down my spine.
I looked away first, heat rushing into my cheeks.
When I glanced back, he had started crossing the ballroom toward me.
He stopped at my table.
Up close his eyes were light brown, almost amber in the chandelier light, and a thin scar marked the right side of his chin.
He smelled like cedar and something darker I couldn’t name.
“I heard what he said to you,” he said, in a voice with a trace of an accent that made me think of old movies and Italian villas. “Nobody should hear that at a wedding. Nobody should hear it anywhere.”
“It’s fine.”
“It isn’t.” He pulled out the chair beside me without asking and sat. “You’ve been alone all evening, and everyone in this room has decided to enjoy it.”
“Thank you for your concern. I don’t even know you.”
“Giovanni Fioraldi.” He offered his hand. “Now you do.”
I took it.
“Jessica Reed.”
“I know. The bride’s sister. The one who came alone.” He said my name as if he were tasting it. “I have a proposition for you, Jessica Reed.”
This was where I should have made my excuses.
This was where I should have remembered I was a single mother with bills and responsibilities and no room in my life for mysterious strangers with dangerous eyes.
“What kind of proposition?” I heard myself ask.
He leaned closer, until his voice was low enough that only I could hear it over the music.
“Dance with me. Pretend to be my wife for the rest of the night. Let everyone in this ballroom see that you are not alone, not pitied, not forgotten.”
I stared at him.
“You want me to pretend to be married to a complete stranger?”
“I want you to say yes,” said Giovanni, and held out his hand.
I looked at his palm, then at his face.
There was something unsettling about the way he waited. He didn't plead. He didn't smile to soften the request. He simply offered me a choice and seemed prepared to accept either answer.
"Why me?"
"Because I heard a man humiliate you, and you still refused to give him the satisfaction of watching you break."
"That's not a reason to marry someone."
"Only for one dance," he corrected. "For tonight, you can call it a performance."
I glanced toward Tyler. He was watching us now. Vanessa had leaned close to him, whispering something behind her champagne glass.
My mother had noticed Giovanni, too. Her expression shifted from concern to curiosity, then to the calculating interest I knew so well.
I was tired of being the family disappointment.
But I was even more tired of allowing people like Tyler to decide what I deserved.
I placed my hand in Giovanni's.
"One dance."
His fingers closed gently around mine.
"One dance," he agreed.
He led me onto the floor. The room seemed to notice us all at once. Conversations quieted. Heads turned. Tyler's smile vanished.
Giovanni placed one hand at my waist, leaving enough space that I could step away whenever I wanted.
"Relax," he murmured. "You're safe."
I almost laughed.
I had no idea whether that was true.
"You're very confident for a man who just asked a stranger to pretend to be his wife."
"I've been told I'm difficult to discourage."
"That sounds exhausting."
"For other people, usually."
Despite myself, I smiled.
He moved with the music, guiding me smoothly around the dance floor. His attention never drifted toward the crowd. It stayed on me.
"Tell me about your daughter," he said.
I stiffened.
"How do you know I have one?"
"Your mother mentioned Lily while you were sitting at the table. You looked at your phone every few minutes. I assumed you were checking on her."
I relaxed slightly.
"She's five. She's staying with my friend Camilla tonight."
"Does she like weddings?"
"She likes cake. She considers everything else a waste of time."
His mouth curved.
"An intelligent child."
Then his eyes shifted over my shoulder.
I followed his gaze and saw Tyler approaching the edge of the dance floor.
Giovanni's expression changed.
The warmth disappeared. The man holding my hand suddenly seemed capable of freezing the entire ballroom with a glance.
"Who is that?" he asked.
"My ex-husband."
"I see."
"Please don't make a scene."
"I wasn't planning to."
But when Tyler reached us, Giovanni did not release my hand.
Tyler looked him up and down.
"Who the hell are you?"
Giovanni's smile was faint.
"Her husband."
Tyler laughed.
"That's funny. Jessica doesn't have a husband."
Giovanni leaned slightly closer.
"Then perhaps you should have treated her better when you had the chance."
Tyler's face darkened.
And before he could answer, a man in a dark suit hurried across the ballroom, stopped beside Giovanni, and whispered something in Italian.
Giovanni's eyes hardened.
He looked at me.
"Jessica, I need you to stay beside me."
"Why?"
May you like
He glanced toward the entrance.
"Because someone just walked into this wedding who was supposed to be dead."
