The morning of the wedding arrived with a sky of immaculate, crystalline sapphire, without a single cloud to mar the vast expanse of the southern Aegean. In the dressing salon of the master penthouse, the air was saturated with the delicate, sweet fragrance of white orange blossoms and Parisian rosewater. Madame Benoit and two master dressmakers from the House of Dior—flown to the island by private charter twenty-four hours prior—moved…
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