BLISS: A Wedding Enemies to Lovers Alpha Bad-Boy Billionaire Romance

by Marr, Maggie

  “Hey, Jake, isn’t that what Torrey does? For all her clients?”

  “What?” Jake says pulling his conversation away from Devon.

  “Torrey? Becca’s maid of honor, doesn’t she do marketing?”

  “Yeah for sure, she and Todd have their own firm.”

  “Todd? That’s an asshole if you ever met one,” Dave mutters and shakes his head. “Not the best guy, if you know what I mean.”

  I do know what he means and suddenly without even knowing Torrey, I feel bad for her. My sister was married to a guy “who wasn’t the best husband in the world” so yeah, while it’s bro-code not to say that shit out loud, it’s still pretty apparent what Dave means.

  “Maybe I’ll get a chance to speak with her this weekend or next. I could use a marketing person here in LA. Not so tough for me to get traction in Sydney, but the states are an entirely different animal.”

  “You should do that,” Jake says. “Torrey is pretty awesome.”

  “Tough as nails,” Dave says. “But man, she’s definitely the type of woman that you want to have in your corner.” He takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head. “I’m glad Carmen’s had her as a friend while we’ve gone through our stuff.”

  I squint. That’s not the kind thought a man deep in divorce usually has about his soon-to-be-ex. I don’t know Dave well, but does he still love Carmen?

  “Looking forward to meeting her,” I say. “This Torrey must be someone quite special.”

  Chapter 5

  Torrey

  “What the hell? You gave our private room away?” I hiss at Eduardo, the host at the front desk. Yeah, I know his name. I know all of their names because their boss, the owner, is a client of mine and it is completely messed up that my reservation for Becca’s dinner was given away. “You know this is for my best friend’s wedding, right?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Bliss,” Eduardo says. “Six men came in and said that they were part of the Ryan-Warner wedding party and—”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I’m one hundred percent pissed and then I hear it…in the distance. That voice with that weird combination Aussie-meets-American accent. Same voice that chastised me earlier today about my lack of organizational skills. I can’t make out the words, but it’s loud and followed by loads of male laughter.

  Heat floods my chest and not in a good way but in a burning rage sort of way.

  “Wait…is that…” I walk over to Becca who stands next to the balcony that overlooks the Pacific. She and Tippy each have a glass of wine. I can’t believe I didn’t put this together before this very moment. “Brett, the guy who is Jake’s best man, he’s coming in from…”

  “Australia,” Becca says. “He moved there when he was ten. He has a really weird accent.” She glances at Tippy, “Can’t really place it. Sometimes he sounds British, sometimes American, other times Australian.”

  “How sexy,” Tippy coos and pets her ponytail.

  “Always asshole,” I mumble. I turn back to the host and sigh. Carmen walks up from her trip to the restroom. She nudges my arm.

  “What’s up?” she asks, then glances to Tippy and Becca on the balcony—thankfully unaware of tonight’s snafu.

  “They gave away our room and our table,” I say under my breath.

  “Oh shit,” Carmen says.

  “It gets better, they gave it to Jake and his buddy from Australia, even though the reservation clearly states it was for four women.” I turn back to the host. He cowers under the weight of my rage.

  “Let me see what I can do,” he says and scoots away.

  “Yeah, please do that,” I call. Another big sigh and to compliment my irritation another booming laugh from the private party room which was meant for Becca and her guests. “I really want to go in there and tell that crew off.”

  “While I understand the desire, I’m not certain it would have the effect you’re looking for,” Carmen says.

  “That’s pretty enlightened of you.”

  “Well, divorce will do that for you,” Carmen says and tilts her head to the side. Her gaze carries a confident sort of surrender. “You can either fight every single battle or you can let some of that shit go,” Carmen sighs. “Me? I had to let some of that shit go.”

  “Yeah. How you doing with all this? This week could be rough right?”

  “We haven’t seen each other much for a few months. Just working on final paperwork. I mean…the anger part…it’s still there, but not quite the same way as when he first moved out.” She leans in closer to me, “What about you though? I…uh…I heard about the front yard incident.”

  Heat builds behind my eyes. Deep breath. El Segundo is an A-Okay place to grow up and live most the time, but it truly is a small town in a huge city and like any other community, people talk.

  “Yeah, that sucked,” I say, my voice low.

  “Next time he pulls an asshole move like that, call me. I’ll go with you or at the very least give you some moral support. Nobody should go through that bullshit alone.”

  “What about him and my former assistant trying to take all my clients? That count?” I flip over my phone and scroll through the list of emails. I’ve returned them all, but it’s becoming really clear, really fast that Todd is attempting to cut me out of the business.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  I shake my head.

  Carmen crosses her arms over her chest, “Well you won’t lose me or anyone I’ve sent you as a client. I’ll make damn sure of that.”

  “Thanks,” I say. While Carmen is a great client to have, she’s definitely not the biggest account. Doesn’t help that Todd was the outward-facing part of the business while I’m the dot the i’s, cross the t’s and creative part of the business.

  “They’ll be back,” Carmen whispers. “As soon as they figure out who the brains of the company is, they’ll be begging to come back to you. He may have a great golf swing, but he’s not very bright and he definitely isn’t creative enough to satisfy your clients.”

  “I love you,” I say and rest my head on Carmen’s shoulder. Right now it feels like everything has gone wrong. Work. Former boyfriend. Reservation. The booming Australian-American laugh comes from the party room…again. I turn and Carmen catches my arm.

  “You sure it’s worth it?” she asks.

  Just then the party room door opens and out comes the party-room-stealing Aussie himself.

  “Oh, I’ve just cut one from the herd,” I say and narrow my eyes. “So yeah, it’s totally worth it.” I watch Mr. perfect-golden-boy slide away from the party room and down the hall toward the men’s. I keep him in my sights. He pushes on the men’s room door. “That’s right, Aussie Boy, now you’re mine.”

  Heat churns in my gut. He’s cornered and alone and I intend to give him a piece of my mind.

  Chapter 6

  Brett

  “That reservation was mine!”

  What the hell? I’m holding my cock in my hand above a urinal while a wild-eyed woman stands beside me with her hand planted on her hip. Her high heel taps the ground.

  I squint. So familiar…this woman looks so familiar.

  “You do know this is the men’s room,” I say and abruptly interrupt her ranting. Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen as though shocked that I’d deign to speak when she so obviously has so much to say.

  “Just like you knew that the reservation you stole was mine?”

  “Excuse me?” I turn my back to her. Sharing the visual of my wanker with a woman who,—while familiar looking—I absolutely don’t know, isn’t happening. “Uh, I really am doing something here.” The piss has stopped. Not happening now.

  “Doesn’t look like you’re doing much of anything,” she says and crosses her arms over her chest.

  The mix of contempt and defiance on her face does nothing for my ability to piss. Ahhh…that face. The look. The tone of voice. Now the memory of this very beautiful but very angry woman comes back to me. “Did you follow me he
re? From the hotel?” I ask. “After my comment about being disorganized?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she says. “Don’t flatter yourself. What kind of narcissist are you? Did I follow you here?”

  “Right, well, I’m guessing that’s a no. So if you’re not a stalker in need of a Marie Kondo intervention, then why exactly are you standing in the men’s bathroom yelling at me while I urinate?”

  Her—granted, very cute—mouth drops open again, and she begins to speak, but it’s as though somehow my words and the realization that she has, in fact, followed me into a men’s room has rendered this still hot as hell (but arguably unstable) woman unable to form words.

  “Are you or are you not in a party room right now?” she asks, as though speaking to a child.

  “Right now?” I ask and wiggle my cock just a bit. “No.”

  A tiny flush of pink runs up her neck and into her cheeks. While I’d considered putting my dick away, now with her embarrassment I’ll definitely leave it out for a while. She walked in here, I have to piss, I’ll wait until I do.

  “Right now,” I say and lean closer as if preparing to tell her a secret, “I’m standing at a urinal in the men’s room.” I glance around the room. “Where are you?”

  “Oh my God, did they teach you how to be an asshole when you moved to Australia or is this just a natural part of your personality?”

  “Funny. Good one. I’ll take it. So you are a stalker. That’s quite a bit of intel you’ve managed to gather on me in a very short time.”

  “The party room you’re using is my party room for my party,” she says.

  Ahh…there it comes, finally I’m peeing. She glances down and her eyes widen, then she turns away. So there is some semblance of humility within this woman. Good to know.

  “No, no, no,” I say. “My assistant Derek booked the party room.”

  “Oh did he?” she asks from over her shoulder. “Hmm. Maybe you should check with the host then because I think you might be surprised to find that Derek did not book the party room, but instead, the host Eduardo accidentally gave you my reservation.”

  “What?” I put my cock into my pants and zip. “No, the reservation was most definitely under the Ryan-Warner wedding party.” I walk to the sink and wash my hands.

  “That was my reservation,” she says.

  “You’re not Becca.” I give her reflection in the mirror my most charming smile. “I know Becca.”

  “As do I, Brett. I’m Becca’s maid of honor.”

  I dry my hands and pull my phone from my pocket. I flip it over and scroll. Hmmm…how to play this? It would seem that based on Derek’s panicked texts that have just started downloading, that what this crazy woman with the beautiful mouth and amber and brown eyes and dark brown curly hair is saying is an accurate reflection of the events of this evening.

  “Well then,” I say and give her my biggest cute-Aussie grin. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from both the bride and the groom.” I slide my phone into my back pocket. “Exciting time isn’t it? What with the wedding next weekend and the wedding party weekend tonight and tomorrow.” I’m an entrepreneur, I can do obsequious, I can make this woman forgive the mistake I’ve made before I admit to making it. Can’t I? “Yes, it does seem as though there has been a bit of a mistake.” Again I slather on the charm. My blue eyes and white teeth must be useful for something.

  Her eyes roll so far up into their sockets that they might fall from her head. “A mistake?! Tonight is the one thing that Becca wanted to do for this bridal-whatever-the-hell-it-is-weekend and you go and steal my reservation?! Then you have the audacity to insult me, call me a stalker, and tell me what you did was a mistake!”

  “Well, it was,” I say. “I can’t understand why you’re unhinged about the whole thing. I mean it’s an honest mistake. I asked my assistant to get the reservation and I thought—”

  “What else do you ask your assistant to do for you?” she cuts in. Her eyes narrow. It’s as though I’ve waved a red flag in front of a raging-hormonal bull (if bulls were female) when I mentioned my assistant.

  “Well, I’m not sure how that’s relevant to the conversation but I ask h—”

  “Do you ask your assistant to sit on your lap? To have sex with you? To steal your business partner’s clients while she’s away?”

  “Uh…well…I…don’t… I don’t have a business partner and no, I do not ask my assistant to sit on my lap or for sex as I believe that would be illegal and…well…I prefer to sleep with—”

  “And unhinged?” She steps forward. Her body is now an inch from mine. Heat rolls off her. “I’m not unhinged! That’s so insulting. I can hardly believe after what you’ve done, you have the hubris to call me unhinged! When it’s quite obvious that you’re the one who has done something completely inappropriate and—”

  She’s right in front of me, spinning and spewing and angry and unhinged (even if she is denying it) and I only see her abso-fucking-lutely sexy lips. Her breasts heave up and down with each breath. Her nipples tighten and press against the snug fabric of her purple dress. An image of this angry, sexy, gorgeous woman naked races in my mind. I reach out and grab this stuttering, angry, mess of a woman and in the men’s bathroom I pull her to me and I kiss her.

  Kiss her.

  Not my style and yet just exactly what I want. She’ll either kiss me or slap me—and either way it’ll be worth it.

  Her body stiffens next to mine and for a half second it’s a toss-up as to whether this will be the sexiest kiss of my life or I’ll walk away with two black eyes—that I totally deserve—because who grabs a woman in a men’s room and kisses her? Not me. Then again what woman follows a stranger into a men’s room and watches him pee?

  She smells like lemons and lavender. Her body presses against mine. My tongue glides over the seam of her lips and she relaxes. Her entire body melts into me as though molding to every muscle and sinew. I press my hand flat against her back. Her mouth opens to mine and our tongues dance together. I deepen the kiss and she responds. She sighs a sweet sexy sigh around our kiss. Her hand presses to my chest and the heat of her palm goes through the fabric and ignites against my flesh. Her hand snakes through my hair and her kiss has need and want.

  She pulls me closer. My hand slides down her back and I cup the thick round curve of her ass. She grasps my shirt and pulls up and her fingers press along the ridges of my abs. Yes. Please. She hooks a leg around me and I put both hands around her ass and lift her to me.

  Together we walk into the stall. We’re a tangle of want and need and desire. Her mouth is open and my tongue caresses her tongue. My fingers skim over the front of her dress and through the fabric of her dress my thumb presses the tight bud of her aroused nipple.

  Her hand drops from my abs and she presses her palm against the outline of my hard cock that was just free and wants to be let loose from my jeans again.

  Fuck. Me. This woman turns me on at a level I haven’t experienced since…well since forever.

  Her hand grasps the front of my jeans and she unzips my pants. My cock springs free and her hand strokes down the shaft of my cock. She presses her thumb over the head and through the pre-cum on the head of my cock.

  My lips leave her mouth and I look into her eyes. “I don’t even know your name,” I say.

  “Who cares?” She grins. For the first time since I saw this sexy-as-sin woman in front of me at Shutters, a smile crosses her face. Her smile could light up a city.

  Heat flames through my body. Her lips press to mine. She squeezes my cock. A long tight stroke from top to bottom. My hands drift up under her dress and my fingertip presses between the folds of her sex. She is hot and wet. I circle her clit. My hard cock throbs between us. Her hand strokes over my flesh. I dip my head and pull the V-neck of her dress to the side exposing her tight nipple. I draw the flesh into my mouth and suck.

  Her hips buck forward. I stroke and lick her nipple w
ith my tongue.

  “Yesss,” she hisses out. Her hand pulls at the hair on my head while the other strokes my sex. She is wet, completely wet. I slide my finger deep into her sex and her muscles tighten around me. Ready for me.

  I reach around and grab my wallet. With her help, I have a condom on my cock in seconds. I lift her and her legs wrap around me. The tip of my thick cock presses through the ring of muscles of her sex.

  “Fuck yes,” she whispers in my ear.

  Her words and the heat of her—I nearly lose control. I press up and pull back. She’s pinned against the wall. Her breasts bounce near my face. Fuck yes. Heat courses through me and her pussy tightens around my cock over and over.

  “Oh please yes,” she moans.

  My control is gone. Heat climbs the back of my legs. My balls tighten. I thrust deep and hard.

  “Oh fuck yes!”

  Her pussy tightens around my cock over and over again and heat blasts from my body and I come into her sweet tight pussy. She digs her nails into my shoulder holding on to me and we both fall into the waves of this orgasm.

  When the pleasure finally subsides. I hold her in my arms and try to catch my breath.

  Her amber eyes lock with mine. I press my lips to hers because while I don’t even know this woman’s name, I know that she is fucking hot as sin and a warrior princess with a smart mouth and heat and courage and that I’m meant to spend the next two weeks with her and that I want to know more about her.

  I slide my cock from her pussy and gently set her onto the ground. A shyness starts to emanate from her.

  “I…uh…” She shakes her head and then…it’s gone. The shyness, replaced by this tough sort of exterior. She straightens her dress and puts those gorgeous tits away that I could stroke and suck for the rest of the night if she’d let me. “I…uh…have never done anything like this before,” she says. She licks her lips and runs her hand over her hair.