Page 74 of Princessa
Chapter 39
“You look gorgeous, Arabella. That dress? Divine.” Lauren stood by my side as I waited to enter the double doors of Royale Resort France’s Royale Crowne Ballroom.
“Wait, the tiara is crooked.” Emma reached up and adjusted the red-ruby-stoned tiara that belonged to Queen Isadora. “It’s so magnanimous and looks perfect with your white dress.”
It was the night of theCompromísGala,the night I was to be presented to all as Prince Grayson’s bride-to-be.
Since our return from Savannah, Grayson and I’d become as inseparable as couples in love come. We’d enjoyed planning our big event as though it were our wedding—although we still had yet to set an actual wedding date. Our engagement was to be stretched, and so long as he got married before turning thirty-six, almost ten months down the road, all was within Andorra rules.
“Are you ready?” Emma smoothed down a piece of my hair. “He’s waiting.Everyoneis waiting.”
“Yes.” I breathed in, then out.
“Give us two minutes to take our seats. Part of the excitement is watching you float down the staircase.” Lauren beamed.
The two of them ran off, arm in arm, giggling like a pair of giddy schoolgirls.
Taking another couple of calming breaths, I pushed open the double doors.
My dad stood, waiting and ready, to walk me down the ballroom’s cinderella-style staircase then down the carpeting aisle to Prince Grayson.
Unlike a wedding, theCompromísGalajoins the bride-to-be and groom in what is called pre-matrimony. The two come together in front of family, friends, and guests, as the priest gives the pair his official sacred blessing. A passage from the Bible is read and the groom-to-be slides the engagement ring on her finger. Then, the two kiss, face their family and friends, and walk the long, carpeted aisle as pink roses are tossed their way.
“Sweetheart, you look beautiful. Prince Grayson is a lucky man.”
I squeezed my father’s hand. “Papa, don’t make me cry.”
Poised at the top of the staircase, I stood proud, arm linked in my father’s, as fanfare sounded, followed by an amplified announcement: “Presenting Senoyreta Arabella Royale.”
We walked slowly down the staircase, guests oohing and awing as I seemingly floated my way to the bottom—my ruffled dress swaying back and forth.
Bliss filled my heart as people I knew and loved—Camille and Finn, Jaxson, Lauren, and baby Gigi, Daniella and Antonio, The Usual Suspects, Queen Isadora and King Matteo, and Mama—waved at us as Papa escorted me down the aisle.
“You’re shaking,” Papa said, pointing out the obvious.
I giggled. “Of course I am—look at how perfect he looks.”
Outfitted in Andorra’s official frock-coat uniform, Grayson stood, hands behind his back, rocking on his heels as though he was waiting for his prized possession.
We exchanged blush-faced smiles, and I imagined him to be just as nervous as I was.
While distracting, I ignored theclick, click, clicksounds of cameras going off—Emma invited a few choice members of the media, including Royal Buzz. Before I knew it, I was standing before my prince, the two of us facing one another, holding hands—his were clammy too.
“Bella, you’re breathtaking.”
I smiled, blinking away tears. “So are you.”
“Shall we begin?” said the priest.
I nodded.
Grayson said, “Not yet. Please, I have something to say first.”
Down on bended knee, he took hold of my hands, dreamy eyes peering up as my misty gaze held his. “Arabella, I love you more and more every day. You are my everything. My heart. My life. I don’t want to wait to marry you. I want to marry you here, right now.”
The gasps that filled the room masked my own. “Today?” It was a silly question, I know, but hell, I was in shock.
“Yes, baby, I know how it feels like to be without you and I don’t ever want to feel that way again. Besides, why wait? When you know, you know.”
