Page 3 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

Why now? Six months had passed. If he was going to come after her, why hadn’t he come before? She’d presumed she was safe, and it was over—an episode in her life that she was totally ashamed of. But at the time she’d felt she had no choice. Hell, shehadhad no choice. She’d needed the money. Besides, when Luciano Scarlesi had put the proposition to her, it hadn’t sounded like such a bad thing. She was doing something for the family.

Her dad had married Luca’s aunt, Maria Scarlesi, when Gabby was seven. Consequently, she’d grown up on the edges of the sprawling Scarlesi family, and she knew all about Sicilian family vendettas and how the wicked D’Ascensio family had ruined the Scarlesis and driven them out of Sicily. Now she had a chance to help them right an old wrong.

And she’d wanted to help. She’d never really felt like she belonged. Hell, she didn’t even look the part, a blonde and blue-eyed alien surrounded by a sea of black hair and dark eyes. This was her chance to do something, to prove she really was part of the family.

“Did you see that total hottie?” Sally asked, fanning her face, as the door to the dressing room shut behind them.

With the words, the last hope that she’d somehow conjured up his image, drained away. “Total hottie” just about summed Vito up. He was all long, lean muscles wrapped in golden skin. The body of a Greek god and the face of an Adonis. She’d known she was in trouble from the moment she’d first seen him; he’d been way more charismatic in real life than the photos Luca had shown her. She’d only kept her hands off him because of guilt and the ability to completely submerge herself in her role.

She was a good girl.

Hah.

A good actress, maybe.

She’d always had a thing for Mediterranean men. After all, Luca had been her first crush, but perhaps best not to go there. “Best not go there” seemed to be the recurring theme with her love life.

But it looked like she wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter. She was goingtherewhether she liked it or not.

She kicked off her shoes and sank down onto the stool in front of the mirror that ran along one wall of the changing rooms, but she didn’t even see her reflection. Maybe if she sat here long enough, he would lose interest and go away. The chatter of the other girls washed over her. Her mind was numb; she had no clue what to do. What to say to him. Obviously, the truth wasn’t an option. But she was done with lying.

Maybe she could fake a case of bronchitis and pretend she’d lost her voice—except he’d no doubt seen and heard her sing on the stage.

Amnesia?

She liked that one.

The room slowly emptied out, and still she didn’t move. Finally, the door clicked shut behind the last of her workmates, and she shifted on the stool. She couldn’t stay here forever.

Or could she? They’d find her mummified corpse years from now… Maybe not.

She glanced around—there was no other exit, not even a window to jump out of, and the only other door led to a bathroom. A rack with the costumes stood along the wall opposite. A disguise perhaps. Or a hiding place.

Wimp.

She was being pathetic.

Just get it over with.

But put some clothes on first.

She definitely didn’t want to face her ex-fiancé in nothing but a leotard, tights, and legwarmers. She stood up and reached for her sweats as the door handle turned…and the world stopped.

Oh, hell. Too late.

…

He’d been loitering outside for half an hour, like some lovesick admirer, as one by one, the other women had exited what he presumed was the changing room.

But no Gabrielle.

She was in there. He was sure. She couldn’t have gotten past him and left the building.

The door opened, and his breath caught in his throat…then released on a sigh as yet another stranger appeared. She glanced at him curiously, and he stepped forward.

“I’m looking for Gabrielle Harper,” he said.

She gave a little pout but then nodded back toward the dressing room. “Gabby? She’s in there.”

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