How To Romance A Runaway Bride

“No reservation?” His frown deepened. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any single rooms available without a reservation.”

This day kept getting better and better. “Fine. I’ll take a double.”

But the desk clerk wasn’t any more accommodating. “I’m afraid we don’t have any double rooms available either.”

Allegra’s heart started beating hard again. This couldn’t be happening.

“Fine. I’ll take the honeymoon suite.” Desperate times called for desperate measures, and these were indeed desperate times.

The hotel clerk shrugged. He was really beginning to get on Allegra’s nerves. “That room is booked, as well. We’re completely full. Without a reservation, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Full? Full? As in there’s not a room of any kind available?” It couldn’t be true. Where on earth would she go? What was she supposed to do? Go marching back into her wedding to ask her erstwhile fiancé for a ride to the airport?

Even if the hotel clerk took pity on her and came up with a room, she had no way to pay for it. She’d walked out of the ceremony with nothing but her bridal bouquet. She wasn’t even sure where her purse—and her wallet full of credit cards—was at the moment.

Why had she agreed to get married in Manhattan?

She should have insisted on a nice, simple ceremony in Cambridge, where she and Spencer actually lived. How had she let herself get talked into coming back here?

Because Spencer was a politician, that’s why. He’d wanted a big, splashy wedding, one that would look good in all the newspapers. A grand show. Allegra just hadn’t realized she was nothing but a prop.

How could she have been so monumentally stupid?

“We’re completely booked.” The clerk gave her a sympathetic smile, and something inside Allegra died just a little. “Can I do anything else for you? Call a car, perhaps?”

Behind her, someone chimed in. “That won’t be necessary.”

Allegra spun around and found herself face-to-face with Zander’s mother. Emily Wilde wasn’t exactly the first person she wanted to chat with after the oddly uncomfortable encounter she’d just had with Zander. But it was definitely preferable to talking to Zander himself. “Mrs. Wilde, hello.”

“Since when do you call me Mrs. Wilde? I’m Emily, remember?” The older woman gave her a warm smile. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just on my way out since it seems the birthday party has ended, and I overheard.”

“I was trying to get a room, but it seems the hotel is booked.”

“Winter in New York is always a busy time of year. But, of course, you know that.” Emily tilted her head. “Isn’t your birthday right around the corner? I seem to remember it being during the snowy season.”

Indeed it was. Just two weeks away. Allegra’s thirtieth, which meant if she’d ever made that ancient deal with Zander, they still had fourteen days to make good on it. Not that they’d made any such arrangement. And not that she’d ever in a million years marry the man.

When had he turned into such a grump? And what was he doing running a hotel? The Zander she knew wanted to run the family business someday. The Wilde School of Dance. She’d have been less surprised to see him starring in a Broadway play than strutting around wearing a business suit, surrounded by minions.

Zander Wilde’s profession should be the least of your worries at the moment. You’re homeless, and the only article of clothing you own is a wedding gown.

“Allegra, you don’t look well.” Emily pressed a hand to Allegra’s forehead. “You need to lie down, dear.”

Allegra nodded. Emily was right. She’d never needed to rest so much in her life. She felt like she’d been running for the better part of fourteen years. In a way, she supposed she had. But it wasn’t as if she could just curl up on the sofa in the hotel lobby.

Could she?

No, of course she couldn’t. She’d probably get in trouble. Or even arrested. She let out a hysterical laugh. Wouldn’t that be the perfect ending to this horrible day? To have Zander call the cops on her.

Zander Wilde, who thought she’d been pining away for him since the day she’d left town.

“You’ll stay with me,” Emily said as matter-of-factly as if she’d just offered Allegra a stick of gum rather than a roof over her head.

“What?” Allegra shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t...”

But Emily had already removed her coat and was wrapping it around Allegra’s shoulders as she led her toward the revolving door. “Of course you can. How many afternoons did you come home with us after dance class when you were a girl?”

More than Allegra could count. “But things are different now.” She slowed to a stop two feet from the exit. “Emily, I can’t. I’m afraid that might upset Zander. We had a disagreement a few minutes ago.”

“I heard.” Emily nodded. “Half of Manhattan heard, actually.”

Fabulous. Just fabulous.

“It doesn’t matter what Zander thinks. It’s my house, not his.” Emily gave Allegra’s waist a gentle squeeze. “And if you don’t mind my saying, it doesn’t really look like you have a lot of options.”

She didn’t. Zero, in fact.

“Allegra, dear. I can’t leave you here all alone. I owe it to your mom and dad to see that you’re taken care of.” Emily’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Come on home.”

At the mention of her parents, the last shreds of Allegra’s resistance crumbled. She didn’t have the strength to fight the past. Not tonight. Not now.

Come on home.

She wanted nothing more than to go home, if only she knew how to get there.

Chapter Three (#uc4a3fe3c-87dc-516b-9a15-605c6a5dc35d)

Zander stared at Ryan sitting in one of the wingback chairs opposite his desk and tried to wrap his mind around the bomb his cousin had just dropped. “A reporter called here to ask whether or not the hotel has been cursed?”

This was a first. Zander was no stranger to New York’s tabloid press. He was fully aware of how brutal it could be. But a curse? That seemed beyond ridiculous, even for a rag like the Post or the Daily News.

“She wasn’t asking exactly.” Ryan frowned. “She’s going to run with it.”

Zander released a tense exhale. He didn’t need this kind of complication. Today of all days. He was still a little rattled after his encounter with Allegra. A lot rattled, frankly. Mainly by her assertion that she didn’t even remember their marriage pact.

Then why the wedding gown?

“Fine.” He needed a drink. A real drink. No more birthday champagne. A martini, maybe. Something potent enough to eradicate the memory of the past half hour of his life, if such a drink existed. “A single negative tabloid article won’t kill us, even one that says we’re cursed. At least they get points for creativity.”

He waited for the pained look on Ryan’s face to relax a little.

It didn’t. If anything, the crease between his cousin’s brows deepened.

“It’s not a tabloid,” Ryan said. Then he uttered the only three words powerful enough to tear Zander’s thoughts away from Allegra Clark dressed in bridal white tulle. “It’s the Times.”

This had to be a bad joke. The New York Times had won more Pulitzer Prizes than any other paper in the world. “Good one. You almost had me. But the Gray Lady is a New York institution. It’s a serious publication. They’d never run a story about a hotel being cursed.”

“Think again.” Ryan lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “The Society section would.”