Rolex: Rolex SA

King’s College: King’s College London

Dorothy: L. Frank Baum/Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

Prada: Prada S.p.A.

Marks & Spencer: Marks & Spencer plc

Vera Wang: Vera Wang

Jimmy Choo: Jimmy Choo plc

Louboutin: Louboutin

Google: Google Inc.

Wikipedia: Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.

Lady and the Tramp: The Walt Disney Company

French Connection: French Connection Group PLC

Costa: Whitbread PLC

Volvo: Volvo Group

Moët & Chandon: Moët & Chandon

Oscar: Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences

Tarzan: Edgar Rice Burroughs

Apollo: Nimax Theatres

The Ritz: Ellerman Group

Cheshire Cat: Lewis Caroll

Stella: Anheuser-Busch InBev N.V.

Nike: Nike, Inc.

Mickey Mouse: The Walt Disney Company

Molton Brown: Kao Corporation

Harrods: Harrods Ltd.

Selfridges: Selfridges Retail Ltd.

Jingle Bells: James Lord Pierpont

Burberry: Burberry Group

Cinderella: The Walt Disney Company

Blahniks: Manolo Blahnik

Louis Vuitton: LVMH Moët Hennessy

Jo Malone: Jo Malone London

Notting Hill: Universal Pictures

Baywatch: FreemantleMedia Ltd.

Empire State: Empire State Realty Trust

Chapter One

Megan

“Oh my goodness, darling, you look fabulous. Utterly…totally…bloody fabulous.”

Megan held her full champagne flute to Brendon’s and they chinked rims, the sound tinkling around the plush West London hotel room.

“Thank you,” she said then hesitated with the glass by her lips. She stared in the mirror at her unfamiliar bridal reflection. With her dark hair piled high, her makeup natural and long, dangling silver earrings, she hardly recognised herself. “But do you think it’s maybe a bit over the top, you know, with the tiara?”

“No, no, not at all,” Brendon said, shoving his hand on his waist and jutting out his left hip. “You, my beauty, are a princess, so of course you should be wearing a bejewelled crown.” He tutted and tapped the base of her stem. “Sup, sup, it’s your wedding day, champers needs to be drunk from dawn till dusk.”

“Yes, but not too much,” Georgie said with a smile but also a hint of sternness in her tone. “We don’t want you sloshed as you walk down the aisle, Megan. You’ve got towering heels to keep control of. Beautiful, bespoke heels yes, I agree, but still, they’re high even for you.”

Megan took a deep breath and curled her toes into the soft beige carpet—her feet were a little cold even though the room was warm. In one hour she would be wearing the stunning new heels she’d designed and walking down the aisle to marry Dylan Dunkin-Buckshaw—yes, she would be Mrs Megan Rose Dunkin-Buckshaw and damn proud to be.