“Everyone clear,” a crew member shouts. He must be the assistant director. Or whatever the equivalent of that is on a reality set.
Tina makes eye contact with a cameraman and points to me. “Stay on her the whole time.”
The shoulder-mounted camera comes within only a few feet of my face. My breathing speeds up, and I clench the bouquet with both hands. It’ll be a crumpled mess by the time I make it to the wedding arch.
“Action,” Tina calls, stepping out of frame. “Go for it, Rachel. Don’t hide what you’re feeling. We’re there with you.”
It’s hard to believe that last part. From what I can see, I’m doing this whole marrying-a-stranger thing on my own.
I take a few steps in the sand and wobble. My knees threaten to buckle.
“Uh, can I take these heels off?” I ask no one in particular.
“Yes!” Tina calls from somewhere off to my left.
Kicking off the heels, I continue forward. Being barefoot in the sand, even if it’s a small thing, brings me some relief.
It’s a feeling that doesn’t last long.
The men at the arch turn around. While I don’t recognize the first one, the second man is all-too familiar.
It’s Aaron, from my audition. From the parking lot.
I pitch forward slightly, barely managing to keep myself from tumbling face-first into the sand.
Aaron? Asshole Aaron?
He’s the man I’m marrying?!
My throat gets thick. Tears collect in my eyes. This can’t be happening.
Did the app purposely pair me with someone I hate?
My lips start shaking. I bite the bottom one to still it.
What will happen if I throw the veil down and refuse to go through with this? I’ll be sued, most likely. My assets amount to very little, but I bet the production company could and would take everything I have.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a camera watching me. Like a lightning strike out of nowhere, I realize what I need to do.
Tina said to be myself, but screw that. If I want to milk this show for all the good it can give me, I need to put on an act. I need to channel all of the acting skills I have and play the part of Happy Bride.
So that’s what I do. Lifting my chin, I blink back my tears and continue down the aisle.
Aaron’s gaze is fixed on me as I approach. His features give nothing away. If he’s surprised to see me here, he doesn’t show it.
In what’s too little time, I’m at the altar. The cameras settle in around us, vultures to fresh roadkill.
Aaron smiles. It’s a cocky one, the kind he wore at my audition.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hi,” I grit out.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
The man officiating the ceremony stands still, his hands folded in front of him. From behind a camera, Tina rolls her wrists at me. She wants more talk.
“You were auditioning.” It’s the first thing I can think of.
Aaron raises an eyebrow. “What else would I have been doing?”
“I thought you worked there, maybe, and you were just reading with me.”
“Ah.” He nods once. The ease that he possessed at the audition is nowhere to be seen. Is he as unhappy with this pairing as I am?
Aaron clears his throat. “We matched,” he says, voice and body stiff.
Yeah, I’d say he’s certainly not pleased.
“So we did.” I put on the biggest smile I can muster. There’s one goal for the next two weeks: never forget the cameras are there.
America needs to see me as their next sweetheart, not the bitch who constantly ranted and raved on TV. The former get movie offers.
“This is pretty exciting,” I say.
His shoulders relax. Optimism flickers in his eyes. “Yeah. It is. I guess that app really knows what it’s doing, since it paired me with someone so lovely.”
He’s bullshitting me, but I could care less. At least he understands the importance of playing along.
When the cameras are off, I don’t care if he outright ignores my existence. When they’re on, though, he better be working it as hard as I am.
“I’m Aaron.” He sticks out his hand.
“Rachel.” We shake.
I guess the show’s final cut won’t acknowledge that we already met at the audition?
“Ready to do this?” he asks.
“Why not?” I ask on a laugh that I really, really hope sounds real.
We turn to the officiant, who starts off with a pretty standard wedding spiel. My pulse roars in my ears, blocking out at least half of what he says.
The next two weeks will be a nightmare, but no matter what, I won’t show it. I’m determined to not be a drama queen on this show. Whatever challenges this marriage throws my way, I’ll meet them calmly and head-on.
Grit and grace. That’s what I’ll be remembered for.
The rings are handed to us to exchange, and Aaron and I slip them onto each other’s fingers. They’re simple gold bands, nothing unique or personal.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
I stiffen. Damn. I forgot about this part.
Aaron doesn’t hesitate. He comes right in and pecks a kiss on my cheek.
Relief floods me…followed by a little bit of disappointment.
It would have been nice just to experience what a kiss on the lips with him is like.
No. I can’t think like that. Aaron is hot, but he’s still insufferable.
“The pavilion.” Tina points at a covered pavilion near the parking lot where production is set up. “Time to cut the cake.”
Aaron and I draw back from each other. With a healthy amount of distance between us, we walk for the covered pavilion.
“Watch your step.” He points at some driftwood in front of me.
“Thanks,” I mutter, not looking at him.
The bouquet is still in my hand. It stings to know that there’s no one to throw it to.
Maybe once the cameras are turned off, I’ll bequeath it to the nearest trash can.
Seeing a three-tiered wedding cake waiting for us is jarring. Even more strange is the four-piece band setting up under the pavilion.
A party with no guests. It’s like the world has been turned upside down.
We’re rushed to the cake, where the cameras are trained on us once again. Everything happens the traditional way. Aaron puts his hand over mine and together we slice the first piece.
The crew, people I’d never seen before today, claps and whoops.
“Can I feed it to you?” Aaron asks.
There’s a devilish glint in his eye that makes me want to slap him.
“Sure,” I say, playing coy.
Tilting my face up, I let him slip the cake between my lips. We make eye contact as he does so, and heat blooms in my core.
Breaking our gaze, I take the cake from his hand. “My turn.”
“I don’t like cake.”
It’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not, but he is being annoying.
“Try it.” I smile sweetly. “Maybe you’ll like this cake.”
“Well, you are feeding it to me…”
That heat inside me grows. At the same time, irritation rises. I don’t know if his flirty attitude is for the cameras, or if he’s doing it to mess with me.
He takes a bite of the dessert, gooey white icing smearing across my fingers. Before I can draw my hand away, he licks some icing from my pointer finger. Hot shivers seize my body.
“You’re right.” His voice is husky. “It’s good.”
I look down, not wanting him to read even the slightest bit of attraction in my face.
“Got it,” Tina says, stepping right into the frame. “Great job, guys. Let’s get that cake cleaned off you and move on to the first dance.”
Someone brings us some wet wipes. Aaron’s not looking at me while he cleans his hands, but I don’t miss the hard set of his jaw.
“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “I have you.”
I’d like to tell him that’s what worries me so much, but of course I say nothing of the sort. The only thing I do is smile and gaze at him like he’s the prince charming I never even knew I longed for.
He’s good on a dance floor. I’ll give him that.
Even with my two left feet, we do a decent job. He leads with the right amount of confidence, only being suggestive in the directions he steers me and never cocky or aggressive.
If all we did was dance the next two weeks, we would probably get along just fine.
He finishes off by dipping me. There’s another round of applause from the crew, this one making me smile—genuinely smile.
This whole thing is kind of fun, as long as I don’t think too much about what’s coming next.
Predictably, we’re rushed off the dance floor. Instead of being led back to my trailer, like I half expect, I’m told to go to the parking lot. There, a white limo with “Just Married” painted in the back window waits.
“This will take you right to the house,” Tina says, “where we’ll film you two going in for the first time.”
“What about my car?” I eye it from across the parking lot.
“Don’t worry. We’ll collect it with all your belongings and have them brought to the house.”
Anxiety rises like heartburn from my belly to my chest. I’m about to be further separated from everything familiar and put into a car with Aaron.
God help me.
He’s already striding for the limo, alongside two of the cameramen. The third camera’s being put into a white van that will probably follow or drive in front of the limo.
Taking a deep breath, I follow.
Aaron holds the door open for me, but he wears that same tight expression he put on once the cameras were turned off on the beach. Not that I can blame him. This situation we’ve been thrown into freaking sucks.
“Thanks,” I tell him through tight teeth.
He nods in return.
We climb into the cozy, lovers’ limo—along with three crew members. Since we’ll probably be told to sit next to each other, I go ahead and choose the seat right by Aaron.
Across from us, Tina tucks herself between the two cameramen.
“Champagne is in the ice bucket there.” She points. “Once we get going, Aaron, pop that baby open. All I need from you two is some chatting. Ask questions about each other. Get to know the other person.”
The limo starts, and the red lights on the cameras flash. Tina scoots closer to one of the cameras to inspect its screen.
“Go ahead,” she says.
An insta-smile stretches Aaron’s face. “Champagne?”
“Sure,” I say.
He reaches for the bottle. Maybe it’s the performer in me, but I feel the need to try extra hard. Taking the bottle and white-clothed napkin out of Aaron’s hands, I pop the cork.
White foam bubbles from the bottle’s lip, much faster than I expected it to come out. I shriek and hold it away from myself, but some of it gets on my dress anyway.
“The glasses!” I yell.
Aaron grabs for the champagne flutes but fumbles and drops one in his lap.
“Here, here,” he says, shoving one flute and then the other under the heavy fizz flow.
I glance at Tina, wondering if she’s upset about my dress, but she’s smiling broadly. Guess I made the right move after all.
“Your skirt,” Aaron says, noticing the big wet spot on my lap.
“Yeah.” I cringe.
He grabs the napkin and dabs at the spot. We seem to notice at the same time how dangerously close he is to my lady parts. Clearing his throat, he quickly withdraws.
“Uh, cheers,” he says.
“Cheers.” We clink glasses and take long drinks. Way long drinks.
Aaron rubs his jaw. “So…that was, um, a nice wedding.”
“Yeah. It was.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. You’d think those improv classes I took while in community college would help me out here, but my mind’s blank.
“We should be at the house soon,” he says, turning to look out the window. “Hopefully.”
“Do you live around here?” I ask.
“Not Santa Monica, but LA, yes.”
“I live in Echo Park.”
“Oh,” he says. “There’s a nice, um, park there. I went to it once.”
My laugh sounds fake—because it is. “Maybe that’s what they named the neighborhood after.”
“Maybe.”
Almost in unison, we take another long chug of champagne. A match made in Heaven; that’s what this is.
How are we supposed to find anything to talk about over the next two weeks? I’ve never had a date even remotely close to this bad, and that includes the dude who pretended to forget his wallet so I would pay, even after he asked to take me to dinner.
And, yes, I knew he had his wallet on him because I saw it in his back pocket when we were leaving the restaurant.
The limo takes a turn. We’re on a street lined with mansions, each of them boasting a perfectly manicured lawn.
“Is that your house?” I ask with a smile, gesturing at a three-story white home with a circular driveway.
Aaron leans forward to look. His shoulder brushes my chest. He probably doesn’t even notice he’s touching me, but my breath hitches in my throat.
“Which one?” he asks.
“The white one.”
“Where?”
“It’s gone,” I say.
He settles back into his seat, leaving me with a racing heart.
We’re driving along the ocean. Sparkling blue water peeks between the houses. It’s one of the most lavish neighborhoods in the city.
Which is why I audibly gasp when the car slows down.
“Are we turning around?” I ask no one in particular.
The limo pulls into a short driveway belonging to a two-story, white home built in the Spanish Colonial Revival style. A set of wooden double doors is at the front, and above them, on the second floor, a row of windows nearly consumes the wall.
“This is your place,” Tina says.
My jaw drops. No way.
Instinctively, I reach for my phone in order to snap a pic to send to Molly. Of course, there’s nothing for me to grab.
The car stops right at the front doors.
“Okay,” Tina says. “This is the money shot. Aaron, are you ready to carry your bride over the threshold?”
“Sure,” he says, the word completely devoid of emotion.
“Um.” I raise my hand like we’re in class. “That’s not really necessary, is it?”
Aaron guffaws. I don’t look at him. If he’s smirking right now, so help me God…
“What kind of wedding would it be without that?” Tina asks.
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a staged one where two strangers are paired together via technology and then forced to live in seclusion from the rest of the world for two weeks, all while the outcome unfolds in front of television cameras?
“Camera’s rolling,” Tina says with a giant smile that seems to insist he best remember that fact. “Joel, you go first.”
The cameraman gets out and, from a perch on the front steps, points his lens at the limo. Aaron follows. Tina’s reminder about the camera must have done its job, because he ceremoniously opens my door. My feet have barely touched the ground when he sweeps me into his arms.
His strength takes me by surprise. I suck in my breath, tasting his spiced cologne. The slight stubble on his jaw is inches from my lips, and I’m overcome by a sudden impulse to rub my face against it.
I’ve never been physically turned on by someone I can’t stand. To say it’s confusing would be simplifying the situation. It feels like my mind’s be
en turned inside out, broken into pieces, and reassembled by a toddler on a sugar high.
The cameras hot on us, Aaron nudges the unlocked door open with his foot and carries me across the threshold.
A massive foyer greets us, large doorways going off to both sides. At the end of the foyer, through windows, a swimming pool shines. Past that, the ocean completes the scene.
We’re in an oceanfront mansion!
Suddenly, I almost don’t care that I’m married and stuck with a person I can’t stand for the next two weeks. Something tells me afternoons spent sunning by the pool and evenings spent watching the sun dip below the waves will brighten my mood considerably.
Aaron sets me down. The cameramen spread out around us.
“This is beautiful,” I say, taking a few steps into the house. My footsteps echo in the silence of the home.
“I agree,” he answers.
Tina nudges into the house behind us and steps out of view of the cameras. “Talk about what you’ll do while here.”
Aaron opens his mouth, but he appears lost.
“I can’t wait to go swimming,” I say, taking the lead. Looking down at my dress, I add, “But first I need to change out of this. I can’t believe I spilled champagne on my wedding dress!”
Laughing, I walk for the stairs. I don’t have one clue where I’m headed, but I move with all the purpose in the world.
“Aaron, watch her go,” Tina hisses.
He watches as I ascend the stairs. For the cameras—definitely not for him, though it’s done to look like it is—I throw a flirty glance over my shoulder as I trail my fingers on the banister.
“Cut!” Tina yells after I turn the corner into the second-floor hall. “Perfect!”
Turning around, I join everyone else in the foyer. This “scene” was the easiest thing I’ve done all day. It’s all because I was in my element, pretending to feel something I’m not rather than facing the reality of what’s really going on inside of me.
A crew member enters the house, lugging my suitcase and another one, which I guess is Aaron’s.
“We’re done for the day,” Tina says. “Good job. Some PAs are driving your cars over right now. The fridge is stocked, but there are also take-out menus on the counter, and there’s a landline you can use to order. Get some rest. We’ll be here bright and early tomorrow to film your first date.”
How To Wed A Billionaire (How To... Book 3) Page 7
