A Match Made in Monaco Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discover more Amara titles… Story of Us

  Heartbreaker

  The Honeymoon Trap

  One Wedding, Two Brides

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Shana Gray. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  [email protected]

  Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Liz Pelletier

  Cover design by Fiona Jayde

  Cover photography by artvea, lindakomori, and Mirifada/iStock

  ISBN 978-1-64063-832-7

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition April 2019

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

  xoxo

  Liz Pelletier, Publisher

  To all my girlfriends! Those from years gone by and those presently in my life, Rhian, Cindy, Cathy(s), Stephanie, Audrey, Kathy, Kate, Andrea (my travel sister), Marie, Kerstin, Shari, Ellen, Lisa, and so many more. Plus, all my writing friends, far too many to list in this finite space. All my hugs and kisses to you.

  Chapter One

  Our Marriage in Monaco

  Bonni & Quinn

  Request the honor of your presence

  at their wedding

  Saturday, 16 February 2019

  at sunset

  Terrace

  Château Sur Mer

  Reception to follow

  Chapter Two

  Celia: What the hey! How come Fredi gets to walk down the aisle with ZAYN PHOENIX? He’s at the top of my hall pass list.

  Bonni: Your fangirling is exactly why Fredi gets him.

  Ava: He was sooooo good in Heartbeats and Moonbeams. Every time he’s on the screen, I swoon.

  Fredi: You want him, Ava, you take him. You know I can’t stand all that cheesy stuff. What am I supposed to talk to him about? Wow, what a nice smolder you have?

  Bonni: Ava’s the maid of honor. She’s walking with Landon. Fredi goes with Zayn and Celia; you’re with Quinn’s cousin. See you all in Monaco!

  …

  Zayn: Fredi, chérie, Bonni gave me your number so we can get to know each other before the wedding. I am looking forward to it.

  Fredi: Chérie? Do you think this is some romcom where you’re going to try and sweep me off my feet? Because, nope.

  Zayn: Wow. Prickly. Not the typical reaction I get.

  Fredi: I’m not your typical. You’re not going to take this as some antiquated masculine challenge to win me over, are you?

  Zayn: Hold on, Bonni gave me instructions. Ah, yes, I am to tell you that I find Chris Hemsworth to be the superior Chris.

  Zayn: Well, that is a lie. Hemsworth is a decent sort, but Evans and I snuck away from a set once to ride motorbikes, and yadda yadda, he can handle himself.

  Fredi: Did you just yadda yadda me in a text? And wait, you know Chris Evans?

  …

  Fredi: I hate you. You knew he knew Chris Evans, didn’t you?

  Bonni: Great guy. Did you know he actually can ride a motorbike?

  Fredi: Why are we friends?

  Bonni: Because you love me, which is why you are making me a gorgeous wedding gown.

  Fredi: I regret many things.

  …

  Zayn: Need your opinion. Trying to pick between two scripts. Should I be the handsome single dad who falls for his precocious son’s teacher or the broodingly appealing bad boy who gets swept off his feet by the wholesome girl next door?

  Fredi: *gag*

  Fredi: Why don’t you ever play anything realistic? Like the divorced dad who dumps his kids on his ex so he can do his best to catch a STD?

  Zayn: Marketing would have a tough time pushing that one.

  Fredi: Too bad marketing didn’t think reality.

  Zayn: Don’t you believe in love?

  Fredi: If I could give you a snort through text, you’d have it.

  Zayn: LOL. Well, perhaps I will rise to your challenge.

  Fredi: What challenge?

  Zayn: To win you over.

  Fredi: I didn’t challenge.

  Zayn: Hmm, not so sure about that.

  Fredi: Don’t even.

  Zayn: Where does this scorn for romance come from? You design wedding dresses.

  Fredi: Can’t trust the male species, they let you down.

  Zayn: Gutted! Don’t paint me with that general brush, ma chérie.

  Fredi: Gotta go. Byeee.

  Zayn: I will get to the bottom of it.

  …

  Zayn: Can you believe the wedding is next week? How time has flown.

  Fredi: I’m just glad I finished Bonni’s dress in time. She flew here for fittings and she looked so beautiful even I teared up.

  Zayn: What? You displayed human emotions despite your best efforts to be a robot? Talk about an unrealistic plotline. And, as they say, picture or it didn’t happen.

  Fredi: Hardeeharhar. So funny. Not.

  Zayn: Looking forward to meeting you in person, after these months of texting. I imagine your prickliness and feistiness is something to behold in real life. Skype and Facetime can’t possibly do you justice.

  Fredi: I admit you’ve grown on me.

  Zayn: Like a fungus? You say the sweetest things.

  Fredi: Whatever.

  Zayn: No, no. I must warn you, I am positively smitten. No one else gives me the amount of crap that you do. I’m going to do my best to woo you.

  Fredi: LOL. Good luck with that.

  Zayn: I’ll need it.

  Zayn: See you in Monaco.

  Fredi: Why do I feel like I’ve missed something?

  Chapter Three

  After a flight that seemed like it would never end, Fredi waited on the beautiful back terrace at the château. Her friends had offered her a jet, but she wanted to get to the venue a few days earlier so she could liaise with the wedding planner. She had to admit it was lovely. She could just picture the wedding here. The flowers Bonni had chosen would complement the white, almost pink, flagstone, which echoed the color of the crushed stone on the driveway and the generous parking area in the front.

  While the château was not particularly ancient, it had to be hundreds of years old. She hadn’t explored yet and hoped she would have the time to snoop around. When s
he had entered the lobby, there was the faintest whiff of inspiration. Wandering the property was sure to give her ideas for her next collection. She liked her private time, but she also was able to thrive off the energy of others. The next few days would be like a zoo. Tomorrow, she was meeting with the wedding planner, which made the rest of today hers.

  Bonni hadn’t been a Bridezilla, but she was very determined about what she wanted and didn’t want at her wedding. Mainly, her goal was for the guests to enjoy themselves. The bridal party and family were staying at the château and the rest of the guests were at hotels in Monaco and Monte Carlo. It must have taken some super-organizational powers to get everything straight and Fredi was glad she hadn’t had to pitch in with that. She was ruthlessly organized when it came to her boutique but preferred to be spontaneous when it came to the rest of her life.

  She wasn’t normally on site for a wedding, but Bonni was one of her best friends. God help the wedding planner if anything wasn’t done properly—she’d raise holy hell on Bonni’s behalf. She pushed away from the impressive stone railing that served as a barrier against the cliffs that fell away to the sea below.

  Checking the time on her phone, Fredi spent another moment absorbing the beauty of the sea before walking back inside and through a wide hall that was cool, with the wind blowing in from the sea. She could get used to a place like this.

  Fredi walked down the steps, her hand sliding along the wrought-iron railing. She paused at the bottom and surveyed the parking area. Zayn was supposed to arrive any minute to pick her up for a drive. She didn’t want to feel excited, but the flutter in her belly at them finally meeting in person made her step falter. Talking for months through texts and video chat was completely different to that first meeting in person. It was a completely unexpected reaction and Fredi wasn’t sure she liked it. She drew in a determined breath.

  Directly across from her was a stunning glass greenhouse, painted white and charmingly rusted in places, which gave it a lovely shabby-chic appeal. The perfect place to explore and not think about these rather unwelcome feelings Zayn stirred up in her. She stepped across the crushed white stone, careful not to get any pebbles stuck in her sandals, and pulled on the iron handle. The narrow door scraped open against the stone. Fredi drew in a breath at the heavenly fragrance of blooming flowers. Oxidized iron support beams spanned the building, the glass showed its age, with many of the panes having a frosted appearance, and others were filled with tiny bubbles. Sun caught in the glass and cast prisms of light, glittering against anything it touched. It was glorious and Fredi instantly fell in love. What a perfect setting for pretty much anything! Fredi thought she’d try to talk Bonni into having some of her photos taken here. She’d look absolutely radiant and the sunlight would reflect off the beading on her dress, giving her a soft glow. Excitement for Bonni and the wedding built inside her. Strolling a little farther, keeping an ear out for Zayn, she approached a cluster of chairs with iron tables between them, creating a cute sitting area under an ancient chandelier.

  She could imagine the four of them relaxed and chatting with drinks. Fredi touched the back of a royal-blue chair, the crushed velvet old and worn, frayed in places. If only it could speak, she thought. How many friends had shared secrets and gossip in this place? She’d known her friends since college and neither time nor distance had weakened their bonds.

  Suddenly, she was lonesome and couldn’t wait for them to arrive. It had been eight months since their last weekend away together. She’d seen Bonni for dress fittings and Ava had flown down once to visit before going to Walt Disney World, but it wasn’t quite the same as when they were all together.

  Fredi peered through the old glass panes when she heard the sound of tires crunching on the driveway and saw a sleek, very sporty car emerge from between the trees.

  She left the greenhouse and shut the door behind her. The top was down on the sports car and Zayn looked very enticing behind the wheel. That damn earlier flutter in her belly came back with a vengeance. It was one thing to see him on the screen of a movie theater or her laptop, but in person? Whew. When he spotted her, the look of delight on his face gave Fredi a little thrill. She tried to hide it behind a poker face. Stones crunched and flew from beneath the wheels as he pulled to a stop in front of her. Fredi stared down at him and, for the briefest moment, liked the little flutter inside her.

  But here he was, the man behind the phone, tablet, and silver screen. He looked totally dashing in his car, like an old-style movie star, handsome, mysterious. His skin was deeply tanned, his dark hair windblown, and a pair of very stylish and obviously expensive pewter-colored sunglasses shielded his eyes. But it was his smile that made her almost melt into a puddle—which surprised the hell out of her—a smile she grudgingly accepted she’d been eager to see in real life.

  She had just reached for the handle of the passenger side door when he hopped from the car and swept her into a bear hug, before pulling back and kissing her cheeks in greeting. She barely had time to register the feeling of his body, hard, warm and solid, against hers before he was opening the door for her.

  “You look absolutely gorgeous, as to be expected. Hop into my chariot, ma chérie.”

  Fredi felt slightly stunned as she gazed at this sexy man. He oozed a sensuality that was tangible and it draped over her in a wonderfully erotic wave. Fredi sucked in a steadying breath, taken aback at her heightened attraction to him. There was no doubt she was very in tune with him and it almost made her want to drag him back to her room in the château and get him naked. She slid on to the leather seat. He gently closed the door and, as he walked around the car, she took a moment to collect herself and watch him. Wowza—he moved with a stealthy grace that made her heart pound. If Ava was here, she’d be babbling about love. Tilting her head away, she shook it a little. More like lust, am I right? Good God, he was way hotter in person.

  Turning back to him, she asked, “So where are we going?”

  He gave her a mischievous grin and took off his sunglasses; she noted they were Cartier. When their gazes connected Fredi was snared and drew in a sharp breath. seeing his unique sea-glass-colored eyes. They practically sparkled, and she couldn’t look away from him. He looked away first, then wheeled the vehicle around.

  “A little surprise for you. And I hope you enjoy it.” Zayn reached down to the console, pulled out a deep-red rose and handed it to her. Their fingers touched briefly before he let go of the stem, and her skin tingled. From static electricity. Not clichéd sparks flying, that’s for sure. She hid her burst of nerves by plunging her nose into the petals. The scent was exquisite.

  “The beauty of a rose, to match the beauty of you.” The words were perfect with his slight accent. Perfect for almost any other woman to hear, but Fredi laughed and rolled her eyes.

  “How many women have you used that line on? I bet you’ve said it in at least one of your movies, right?” It had become a running bit between them, where he’d do something cheesy and she’d laugh at him. She’d miss it when the wedding was over and they no longer had a reason to talk. The thought sparked an unfamiliar pang in her and she brushed her fingers against the rose’s petals to distract herself.

  “You don’t like roses?” He cast her a fake look of confusion. He might star in romantic schlock, but she had to admit the boy could act.

  She lifted a shoulder and gave a small smile. “They’re so overdone. That’s always the go-to flower. Everyone gravitates to it because it’s easy. There’s a whole language of flowers, but all anyone ever does is roses. It’s not romance, it’s a cop-out.”

  Zayn focused on the road and tapped a finger against the steering wheel. “You’re not wrong. But I’ve made it my mission to prove to you that romance is alive. You need to embrace it. How else will you come to love me as I love you?” His deep voice, with that accent—a combination of French, Italian, and something else—held a mysterious cadence that did all kinds of sweet things low in her belly as he faced her briefly
to give her a playful wink.

  Fredi wasn’t touching the “I love you” thing with a ten-foot pole, but she already knew they’d be having a fling. She had decided to sleep with him before she even got on the plane. Through all their conversations he had been sweet and considerate, with a wicked sense of humor. Throw in the fact that he could play a Greek god without the need for CGI, and she would be a fool to pass up the opportunity of taking him out for a spin.

  But romance? Not even he could sway her long-established thoughts on that silly business.

  “If you say so,” she said, a wry tone in her voice.

  He chuckled again and she decided she really liked the deep, gravelly tone. Glancing at him through the wildly blowing strands of her curly hair, she admired his chiseled profile as he expertly navigated the car to their mystery destination. Fredi savored the sensations that throbbed slow and hot through her veins.

  The comfortable silence continued as he drove into the city. She wondered where he was taking her. There was no doubt Monte Carlo was full of amazing restaurants and cafés.

  “Wow, this is a shopper’s paradise.” Fredi was enthralled as they drove through the streets of Monte Carlo. “Just look at all these shops! Prada, Gucci, Chanel, Cartier—so many top names, amazing designers. I simply have to find time to look around.” Her head whipped about, trying to take it all in.

  When Fredi worked for her previous employers, she had rubbed elbows with the rich and snobby. She had been headhunted a few times by the larger designer houses but, in the end, Fredi had wanted her own boutique. When Celia hooked up with Landon and got him to offer her a storefront in his San Francisco hotel, it was exactly what she’d been looking for without really realizing it until it had happened.

  It had taken a lot of hard work and a lot of cash, but the boutique was now in a reddish-black financial place that allowed her to take the time to make Bonni’s dress herself instead of outsourcing it. Her capable manager was running the place while Fredi was in Monaco but, with an international calling plan, she could deal with anything.

  “It is something, isn’t it?” he said, as he expertly maneuvered the car through streets crowded with both vehicles and pedestrians. It was tourist heaven and the pedestrians taking in the sights just seemed to walk out without any thought, taking pictures.