The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife (Blair and Grayson) novel Chapter 262

Chapter 262

-LORETTA-

Marco lived approximately half an hour from my home.

The gates opened, and I forgot about everything the second I saw his house.

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It was constructed of pale stone, long and low in profile. In front, a gravel court had been raked into neat/ parallel lines, enhancing its appearance. Tall cypress trees stood on the house’s edges, their pointed silhouettes adding to the beauty, evoking a sigh of admiration from me.

I hated that my first thought was that I could be happy living here. This was only temporary. Why did I have to constantly remind myself of this?

A maid met me at the door. She did not ask who I was. I assumed Marco must have already told her.

She only smiled, took the small bag Giovanni had insisted I bring, and led me up a staircase that smelled faintly of lemon.

“Your room, signorina.”

Was this his guest room? It was huge. The bed was wide. The windows looked over a garden. On a stand by the wardrobe, the wedding dress waited.

I stopped. My heart skipped a beat.

I examined the intricate details of the wedding dress closely. Its rich ivory hue contrasted softly against a pure white, subtle yet elegant. Delicate lace adorned the translucent sleeves, with floral patterns that looked meticulously crafted.

I instinctively reached out and touched the smooth waistline, feeling the fine embroidery beneath my fingertips.

It was clear someone had invested considerable thought into selecting this dress-the craftsmanship, the fabric, the fit, it all seemed perfect.

Worst of all, it appeared to have been made precisely in my size. That wasn’t possible.

I held it up. The bodice met me where it should.

The length…perfect.

How?

He had never asked for measurements. I would have remembered. I would have refused, and then thought about refusing, and then eaten something to recover.

I changed because the maid said the photographer was already in the garden, and because standing there with the dress against my body was making my face hot.

The garden was mostly roses. Rows of them, red and pale pink, opening like they had been waiting for this

day.

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The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife

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There was a path. A stone bench. A man with a camera who looked pleased with the lighting and indifferent to my nerves.

Marco was by the bench.

He was in a suit I couldn’t help but notice how dashing he looked. He gazed at the dress. Then at me. Something in his expression shifted as I got closer.

“It fits,” he said.

“You didn’t ask my size.”

“I paid someone who knows how to look.” His eyes stayed on mine. “They did a good job

Why did that seem like a lie?

“Closer,” the photographer said when we chose to keep distance between us for the first picture.

We stood where he pointed. Marco’s good hand settled at my waist, light at first, as if he had asked permission and I had given it by not stepping back.

The heat of his palm went through the lace. I forgot the next instruction.

What was it again?

“Chin up. Look at him.”

I looked. That was worse. This close I could see everything. He was even more handsome up close. His thumb moved once, a small stroke at my waist, and my stomach instantly got butterflies.

What was wrong with me?

“Hands,” the photographer said.

Marco took my hand. His fingers fit between mine. I felt each one. My pulse was ridiculous. He had to feel it. His jaw tightened, which did not help.

“Forehead,” the man said.

Marco leaned in. His forehead against mine, breath warm on my mouth. My free hand had found his shoulder. I did not remember putting it there.

“Good,” the photographer said. “Now kiss her.”

I froze.

Marco’s eyes flashed with a look I did not recognize.

I think he saw the look of panic on my face. I wasn’t exactly hiding it well.

“It’s one kiss,” he said quietly. “Unless you’ve never been kissed before. Then that would be a problem.”

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