Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter

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      ‘You don’t trust me,’ she said when the door had closed. Did he honestly think she would betray him?

      ‘I don’t know you,’ Eduardo answered lightly, walking back towards her.

      ‘Then get to know me.’ She would never sell her story to the press. She was loyal to the core and deeply private.

      ‘I intend to.’ He smiled that wolfish smile. ‘Intimately.’

      Of course he’d reduce this to sex. Sex was so easy for him. She’d been so easy for him. Too late she realised the ramifications weren’t as easy for her to handle.

      ‘Do I get to do the same?’ she questioned. ‘Do I get to know you beyond “intimately”?’

      His withdrawal was palpable. The easygoing façade fell in a blink, revealing a tense distance. And it wasn’t just the smile that he dropped, but the warmth. That ruthlessness was exposed once more, making her realise just what a stranger to her he was.

      ‘Of course.’

      She ran her fingers over a smooth jet-black glass sculpture that stood on a low table. ‘So you studied law?’

      ‘For a couple of years, yes.’ He turned away from her, choosing to sit at the table.

      ‘Contracts and business and wheeling and dealing?’ Like his sharp-suited friend?

      ‘I preferred evidence—criminal law.’ Another bare minimum answer.

      ‘You wanted to be a courtroom lawyer?’

      ‘It is impossible for me to work as a lawyer.’

      ‘But you wanted to be one?’ she pressed, curious about this side of him.

      ‘We all want things we can’t have.’

      ‘Not princes.’

      He hesitated, then cast a theatrical, mournful look at her. ‘Especially princes.’

      He’d slipped back into that ‘Prince Eduardo’ character—all roguish charm.

      ‘I’m not about to feel sorry for you,’ she said.

      ‘Good. You’re not marrying me out of pity, then.’

      ‘I’m not marrying you for your money either,’ she said, deadly serious.

      ‘You can give it all away if you like.’ He shrugged carelessly. ‘Return to your room now. You have more preparations to attend to.’

      ‘Seriously?’ He was dismissing her? Just like that?

      ‘Yes.’ He looked unapologetic. ‘Things to do, Stella.’

      ‘Of course—your princely time is so precious.’

      Stella walked back to her room, all senses on alert when she found her door was open. An older woman waited in the centre of the room alongside a wardrobe rack on wheels—the kind models had on fashion shoots.

      ‘Miss Zambrano?’

      ‘Yes.’ Stella just stopped and stared.

      ‘My name is Giulia. I’m here to help you dress tomorrow.’

      Dress? Eduardo had been serious about her choosing a wedding dress? Given that the clothes rail was filled with dresses, it seemed he had.

      ‘They are yours to try on. Choose your favourite and I will alter it as necessary.’ The woman bent her head and smiled shyly. ‘Any would look good on you.’

      ‘Where did these come from?’ Stella gazed along the rail, too scared to touch even though each creation was wrapped in protective plastic.

      Seven dresses. All different styles. All obviously expensive.

      ‘They were flown in from Paris and Milan.’

      Stella read each carefully pinned label. High-fashion houses every one of them. Italian. French. American.

      She’d never been a dress-up girl. Except for that one time she’d dressed up in her father’s uniform. His fury had made her all the more determined to earn one of her own—to be better than the son he’d wanted and never got. Only her father had sent her away to school on the other side of the world. Out of sight, out of mind.

      ‘Allow me to show you each dress.’ Giulia suddenly took charge. ‘I realise it can be difficult to make a decision when they are all so exquisite.’

      Enraptured by the yards of silk, satin and lace, Giulia took a good twenty minutes showing and explaining the unique features of each.

      ‘Have you worked for Eduardo long?’ Stella asked when the servant had hung the last dress back on the rack.

      Giulia’s eyes clouded and she retreated back behind her quiet reserve. ‘A number of years.’

      ‘I bet you didn’t think he’d ever marry.’ Stella tried to smile, as if joking. ‘He’s “the untameable prince”, right?’ She used the media’s favourite description of him.

      ‘It has long been expected that Eduardo will marry. Both he and Antonio deserve happy marriages.’ Giulia stood haughtily.

      ‘Which do you think he’d like?’ Stella stopped trying to smile and stared at the dresses. It wasn’t that she wanted to please him, but it was clear that Giulia did.

      Giulia glanced briefly at Stella, then moved to the last dress she’d held up. A tumble of soft, pretty silk with embroidered flowers trailing down the edges. The flowers gave just a trace of colour to the dress and reminded her of spring.

      Stella held up her hands and shook her head. ‘It’s too fussy, with all that detail.’

      ‘It is modest, yet modern. You should try it.’

      Well, she had to start somewhere. Self-consciously Stella stripped to her underwear and stepped into the beautiful dress, holding still so Giulia could fasten it.

      Five minutes later she stared at herself in the mirror, trying not to let her shock show on her face. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t worn a dress before—she just didn’t do it that often—and this dress...

      ‘You’re sure it’s okay?’ She swung to face Giulia.

      ‘Are you comfortable in it?’ Undeniably smug, Giulia was smiling.

      ‘Yes.’ Stella realised she was more than comfortable. Who knew that putting on a dress could make her feel different? Brave. Beautiful. It was like a costume in which she’d play a part. Or a uniform. Armour.

      ‘Then it is the one.’ Giulia made small adjustments to the waist and the hem and pinned them.

      ‘That was easy.’

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