Page 1 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

Chapter One

Today would have been the six-month anniversary of her wedding.

If I hadn’t run.

The thought caught Gabby in an unguarded moment. For a second her surroundings faded and she was back under the warm Sicilian sun. With Vito.

Her feet faltered—the dancer on her right whirled around, rammed into her, and Gabby crashed to the stage floor with a thump, the air knocked from her lungs. She lay for a minute, gazing at the sea of multicolored legs around her and the empty chairs in the front row.

“Crap,” she muttered, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees and then to her feet, brushing down her purple leotard and hitching up her bubblegum pink legwarmers. The music stopped and everyone’s attention focused on her. She gave a shrug. “Sorry.”

It had been her fault; she’d turned the wrong way. Luckily it was only a rehearsal, but all the same—she was better than this.

Get a grip, wuss.

“Perhaps we could have a little more attention, Gabby.” The choreographer’s voice held more than a hint of sarcasm. “And we might all get home before midnight.” Yeah, that would be good—it was only eleven in the morning, and they had a show tonight.

She was the newest member of the cast of a long-running West End musical, but that shouldn’t have made a difference. She was a professional. It didn’t help that her miserable state was self-inflicted. Her head pounded from too many chocolate-strawberry martinis the night before. She’d gone out with her bestie Theresa and drunk way too much, drowning her sorrows.

Wimp.

Not that she had anything to be sorrowful about. Not really. Her mum was doing well, responding to the treatment, and her brother was out of trouble—fingers crossed the little monster would stay that way.

And finally, she had a good job.Yay!

Not as good as the one she’d lost when she broke her arm, but good enough to pay the rent if she ever got off her pathetic backside and looked for a place of her own instead of Theresa’s couch. And if she didn’t mess up, the job would go on for a long time. The show had been running for years; there was no reason to believe it would end anytime soon.

Which all meant that there was absolutely no reason to feel so goddamn miserable all the time.

Just don’t think about a certain Sicilian.

A face flashed up in her mind—a stunningly flawless face, with sharp cheekbones, eyes like bitter chocolate, and the longest, blackest lashes she had ever seen.

Oh God, I just thought about Vito. Total bummer.

“Gabby!”

She jumped and found everyone still staring at her.

“Are you ready?”

She gave a quick nod. “Yes, boss.”

The music started, and she forced everything from her mind and, thankfully, soon lost herself in the rhythm. She loved that moment when the dance and music took over, her surroundings faded, and she was transported to another world. She danced until her legs ached and a sheen of sweat covered her body. She was just congratulating herself on not putting a foot wrong when she raised her head and caught sight of a tall figure standing in the aisle.

Her mind went blank, her feet tangled, and for a second time that morning, she crashed to the floor. This time she lay with her eyes tight shut, unwilling to open them until someone nudged her in the side.

She peeked through her lashes, stared at the spot, but the man was gone. A figment of her imagination? Not a chance in hell. She wasn’t that lucky.

She scrambled to her feet. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, giving another little shrug. “I got distracted. It won’t happen again. Super big promise.”

“We’ll start from the beginning.”

The rest of the dancers groaned, but as far as Gabby was concerned, he could keep them there all day and past midnight. Here on the stage, she was someone else, and real life couldn’t touch her.

But once she left the stage, all bets were off.

…

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