Bridezillas and Billionaires

by Alina Jacobs

  “We’re going to set the cake and dessert table against that wall,” I reminded her.

  “Put it in the middle of the room,” she retorted.

  “It’s a ten-foot-high cake,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s going to take up the whole room.”

  “Nonsense!” my mother said. “Everyone likes a dessert table. Keep it in the center. You can show off your cake.”

  “Finally, someone on Team Imogen who isn’t a naysayer!” the bride said.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Why is this my life?

  37

  Evan

  Why does this have to be my life?

  I tried to keep my expression neutral as Imogen picked apart the seating arrangement. Camilla crept closer and closer to me, never forgoing an opportunity to touch me, run her fingers through my hair, or trail her nails across my arm. The worst? I couldn’t shrug her off. I was sure her father had told her I had called. I had to have that property. There was no way I could let Ivy be kicked out of her apartment.

  The meeting that had dragged on was finally over. If it wasn’t for Ivy and the fact that I wanted to make sure Imogen didn’t do something completely crazy, I would skip all wedding-related events until the rehearsal dinner.

  “I could use a drink,” Ivy said as we stood in the elevator lobby. “If you want a professional alcoholic beverage.”

  I didn’t smile. “I can’t. I have an appointment.”

  “Yes,” Camilla said loudly, coming out of the condo, “Evan’s a busy man. And you have a wedding to plan. Try not to ruin it.”

  The elevator ride down to the ground floor was tense. I kept glancing over at Ivy’s profile. She stared straight ahead as Camilla wrapped her arms around me.

  “Say hi to Daddy when you see him,” she cooed.

  “Evan!” Orson Sutherland boomed when I went into his office. “I just heard from Camilla. It seems you’ve had a change of heart.”

  This was it, wasn’t it? I could either lie and say that I was considering getting back together with Camilla in order to save Ivy’s home, or I could tell him to pound sand and have to confess to Ivy that I had ruined her life.

  Fuck. But the answer was clear. It was a chance I had to take.

  Of course, I told Southerland in my best I’m a trustworthy investor. Please let my hedge fund handle your 1.3 billion dollar endowment voice, “We do have a history. A second chance doesn’t seem out of the question.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it!” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “I knew you’d come to your senses eventually. Of course, I’ll need to see some evidence of this turn of events. But may I say, welcome back to the family.”

  “Of course,” I told him, forcing myself to smile. “In fact, I was going to see if Camilla was free this afternoon.”

  Camilla, of course, was free. I scowled as I read her excited text message in the elevator. Unlike Ivy, Camilla had no job, no hobbies, and no responsibilities. In truth, she had no passions except for spending my or her father’s money and trying to one-up her friends.

  My cheating ex-fiancée was waiting for me in the lobby of the Sutherland Bank.

  “Evan,” she purred. The gaudy engagement ring I had given her sparkled on her finger. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me.

  “I’m so happy we’re back together!” she squealed, wrapping her arm around mine.

  I’m doing this for Ivy, I chanted to myself.

  “There’s a little French place that opened up nearby. Kaitlyn’s husband took her there after she told him she was pregnant,” Camilla said, leaning on me, tottering in her heels as we headed down the block. “You should see her. She’s as big as a cow already, but I bet Andrew gives her the best push present.”

  Someone put me out of my misery.

  “You have to buy me something nice when I get pregnant,” she warned me. “I don’t want Kaitlyn’s present to be better than mine.”

  “Of course,” I muttered while silently thinking, As soon as that property is in my hands, you’re out in the street.

  The café was decorated in cutesy black and white and pink graphics. While looking at the menu, I just knew it was one of those places that wasn’t going to give us enough food. Sure enough, when the server arrived with our orders, my plate contained a tiny piece of steak and three lettuce leaves.

  “So cute!” Camilla gushed, taking pictures of her food. Then she wrapped an arm around my neck, made that atrocious duck face, and snapped our picture. “This is going straight on Instagram!”

  I winced inwardly.

  “Look at you two lovebirds!” a woman squealed. Imogen and her assistant, Tiffanie, strolled into the restaurant.

  “I’m so happy you two are back together,” Imogen said. “You’re a love story for the ages.”

  I nodded, trying not to flinch as Camilla kissed my cheek.

  I was starving and irritated after the lunch was finally over. I wanted to text Ivy, but then, what if she had seen the pictures? I needed an explanation that wasn’t “I sold your home out from under you, and I’m trying to fix it by pretending to get back together with my cheating ex.”

  Sebastian was waiting for me in my office when I returned.

  “Dude,” he said.

  “Unless you brought alcohol with whatever complaint you’re about to launch my way, I don’t want to hear it,” I told him, unbuttoning my jacket and slumping onto the couch.

  “It’s not a complaint, it’s an intervention,” he said flatly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and shoving it in my face. “You’re getting back together with Camilla?”

  There, on a known gossip site, was a picture of me and Camilla. She was stroking my cheek and trying to feed me a bite of food.

  “Fuck. Ivy’s going to kill me.”

  “Ivy?” Sebastian asked incredulously. “You’re cheating on Ivy with Camilla?”

  “Fuck, no, dude!” I said, jumping up and pacing around my office. “I fucked up. Like I really fucked up.”

  Sebastian shook his head slowly as I relayed the issue with the land deal.

  “That’s why I try to avoid getting wrapped up in the Svenssons’ business deals,” he said. “Just tell Ivy the truth like an adult. If you really feel bad, offer her money for a new apartment.”

  “I can’t do that! She’ll hate me. She’ll think I did it on purpose. I’ll lose her forever,” I protested. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m going to fix this. If she finds out, I’ll lie and tell her it was all Camilla’s doing. She already doesn’t like her.”

  “I don’t think you’re in the right headspace to go from a failed almost-marriage to a relationship. I thought this was going to be a casual thing with Ivy,” Sebastian said, running a hand through his hair.

  “Yeah, so did I.”

  38

  Ivy

  “Um,” Sophie said when I curled up in a fetal position on the booth seat at the restaurant.

  “Don’t judge me!” I wailed. “I’ve had a terrible day.”

  How could my mother be here in New York, in my life? It was awful. What was Evan going to say? It was cringey the way she flirted with him. He was probably going to dump me because my mom was so horrifying.

  You two had sex; it’s not a relationship.

  Elsie patted me sympathetically. “I know this probably wasn’t how you wanted things to go.”

  “I’ll say,” I said, sitting up.

  “We ordered you a drink already,” Brea said, her tone worried as she nervously embroidered pearls on a veil. “We have more drinks lined up.”

  “Thanks. You’re good friends.”

  “We’re here for you,” Grace said, offering me the basket of French fries.

  “Yeah, I just can’t believe my mother would do that, you know? I mean, it’s a whole new level of insane, even for her,” I said, swiping a hot fry in the garlic aioli.

  My friends seemed shocked and exchanged nervous glances with e
ach other.

  “Uh, your mom did what now?” Amy finally asked.

  “She’s here in town, working for Imogen. I thought that was why you all called the emotional-support alcohol-and-French fry meeting?”

  My friends huddled together, looking like penguins about to shove one of their own off of the ledge to test the waters.

  Elsie finally said, “Ivy, Evan’s back together with Camilla.”

  My mouth fell open, and the French fry dropped out.

  “He’s not! I just saw him.” My brain slowly churned. “He said he had an appointment. Oh, god.”

  Amy showed me Camilla’s Instagram. There she was with Evan; the two looked like the picture-perfect couple. Tears swam in my eyes.

  Then I blinked angrily. “So what? We’re not together.”

  “You liked him,” Amy said sympathetically.

  “I hated him,” I said flatly. “He was ill-advised stress relief and a walking bad decision.”

  “In a nice package,” Sophie added.

  “So you’re not upset?” Grace asked, patting my hand.

  “Of course not!” I lied. “I don’t have time for his games. If Camilla wants that dumpster fire, she can go for it. Evan and I weren’t anything. It was a no-strings-attached arrangement. Evan wanted rebound sex, and I just wanted any sex I could get. We did it. Now it’s over.”

  “I’m kind of surprised,” Elsie said. “You handled this all very maturely.”

  “Of course I did,” I chirped and grabbed a handful of fries. “I’m a mature, professional woman.”

  “Well then. Drinks all around!” Sophie announced.

  “And now you can tell us about your conquest!” Amy said excitedly.

  “Was he huge?” Grace demanded.

  I nodded and smiled slightly, because I totally hadn’t slept with Evan because I liked him. I only did it for the pure physical sensation.

  “Did you do anal?” Brea asked, brown eyes big.

  “Oh my god, Brea, Lord have mercy!” I fanned myself.

  “Well, did you?” Elsie asked after a beat.

  “Of course not!”

  I felt slightly better as I drunkenly walked home.

  It was casual sex with Evan. Enemies with benefits, if you will.

  Former benefits, I reminded myself as I slowly climbed the stairs. Now it’s over and you can catch up on work.

  I needed to review the RSVPs that had been coming in and check them against the guest list. I had been afraid that people weren’t even going to show up to the wedding. They had canceled on the bridal tea, after all. However, it seemed people were eager to watch the train wreck live and in person.

  “It can’t be as bad as the last Harrington wedding,” I told myself as I unlocked the door. Fergus yowled on the other side.

  “I brought you tuna tartare,” I told the cat. “And if you don’t cough a hair ball up on my bed, you can have some.”

  I let him out onto the balcony with his snack then opened my laptop to review the state of the bridal registry. Imogen and Teddy had expensive items picked out. The cheapest was a five-hundred-dollar silver fruit bowl. I had several emails from her complaining that no one was buying any of the registry selections.

  “No shit,” I muttered as I undressed, kicking off my boots. “No one is going to buy dumb, expensive gifts for people they can’t stand.”

  Fergus came back in from the balcony and sniffed my boots. Then his back arched, and he started making pukey noises.

  “No!” I yelled. “No no no! Stop!”

  Hurk! Hurk! The big fat cat was right over my nice boots. My shirt was half over my head, and I shrieked as it caught on my earring as I tried to rip it off so I could grab Fergus and throw him into the sink.

  Hurk!

  “No!”

  Crack!

  The door to my condo blew off the hinges and banged against the opposite wall, rattling the shoe shelf behind the door. I screamed and picked up a decorative metal pencil cup and threw it at the man in the doorway.

  “Help! Murderer! Intruder!”

  “Where?” the huge man shouted.

  “Evan?” I shrieked. “What are you doing here?”

  “Where is he? Did he go out the fire escape?” Evan demanded.

  “You’re the intruder!” I yelled at him. “You broke my door.”

  Evan was in the little space between my bed and my desk wall, trying to get to the window at the fire escape. I picked up the glass of water on the desk and threw it on him.

  “What the hell, woman?” he sputtered. “I’m trying to help.” Evan grabbed me by the bare arms.

  “You’re not helping!”

  My shirt was off, and the cat looked up at me. The surprise of Evan’s bursting through the door seemed to have shocked Fergus out of his indigestion. Instead of attacking the man who had just interrupted our sad little evening, the cat hissed and attacked my feet. Evan scooped up the cat, and Fergus immediately went limp and purred in his arms.

  “Get out of my apartment, and take that cat with you,” I ordered.

  “I was trying to save your life,” he retorted, setting Fergus on the fire escape to swat at moths.

  “You’re trying to ruin my life. You broke my door!”

  “It’s not broken,” Evan said defensively, shutting the door with a creak. “See! It still closes!”

  “What are you even doing here anyway?” I demanded.

  Evan looked slightly guilty. I narrowed my eyes. He smiled at me. It promised a lot of things, including a repeat of last night.

  “No,” I said flatly. “I’m not helping you cheat on Camilla. That is not who I am.”

  “Camilla,” Evan scoffed. “I’m not back with Camilla! You should know me better than that, Ivy.” Evan approached me, eyes dark. “I would never get back with her. You’re the only woman I want.”

  “I am?” I squeaked. Then I forced myself to not let my inner sex goddess hijack my brain. If she had her way, the bills wouldn’t be paid and I’d just lie in bed with Evan all day.

  Sounds like a good plan.

  Wrong! Sounds like a terrible plan!

  “The thing with Camilla is just…” Evan shrugged casually. “I’m trying to evict her out of my other condo. I need to sell it. She, however, insists we’re getting back together.”

  “Oh,” I said, deflated.

  “I’m simply trying not to burn bridges in the business community.” He gave me a wry smile. “It’s a small world. I don’t want Camilla’s father to ruin my hedge fund. Someone has to pay for the imported cigar bar at the reception.”

  “The what?” I snarled.

  Evan snickered. “Teddy has decided that this wedding is not reflective enough of his values, and he wants themed desserts with his football team logo, games for the guests like giant Jenga, and a cigar bar.”

  “We can’t have people smoking cigars! It’s a historic venue!” I said, flailing my arms.

  “Teddy is spoiled and stubborn,” Evan said, his hands coming to rest on the bare skin of my waist. “When Imogen finds out he’s not budging, I hope you have some sandbags ready to duck behind.”

  “Lordy.”

  “Feeling a little stressed?” Evan asked in that deep voice.

  “No,” I lied.

  “Too bad, because I offer very effective stress relief.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Evan unhooked my bra. My nipples were hard. Evan leaned in to kiss each one, then he tangled a hand in my hair and kissed me hard.

  “Get on the bed on your hands and knees,” he ordered.

  My pussy went wet. I licked my lips then slowly turned and climbed up on the bed. Evan slowly pulled my panties down. I was aching for him. He pressed his mouth to my pussy, and I moaned as he licked me along the slit, teasing my clit with his tongue.

  He grabbed my ass, spreading my legs to give him better access as he slowly licked me. I moaned as he worked my clit with his tongue, my pussy aching for his cock. I whimpered when he stopped.
A condom packet ripped, then Evan’s hand was there, stroking me. His fingers dipped into me.

  “I was planning on doing this slowly,” he said, “but all I could think about all day was thrusting my cock into your tight pussy. I’m going to fuck you hard first, then slow. I hope you have all night booked for this.”

  I whimpered as he stroked me, my nipples hard, anticipating his cock. I spread my legs for him, and he grabbed my ass, thrusting into me in one smooth motion. I cried out as his cock slid out to ram into me again.

  I moaned as he fucked me hard. The cheap bed frame creaked with the thrusts, and I grabbed fistfuls of the comforter. One of Evan’s hands snuck around to rub my clit, working it in time with his thrusts. I had already been half-gone by the time he put his cock in me, and I was quickly approaching the edge.

  “Scream my name,” Evan ordered as his pace sped up.

  He tangled a hand in my hair, jackhammering into me as I came, crying, “Fuck, Evan!”

  I felt him shudder and come in me. Then he snuggled me to him on the bed. Evan pressed kisses up my neck and pressed me back into the bed, kissing me hard.

  “I think I’m ready to fuck you again,” he rumbled, then froze as we heard furious knocking on the door.

  “I swear, Mrs. Russo,” I muttered.

  “Ivy?” a familiar voice called out.

  No.

  “Ivy! Are you in there? It’s your mother. Your door is open, so I’m coming in.” The door creaked, and Evan cursed, jumping up to hastily button up his pants. I clutched the bed sheet over myself as my mother walked into my apartment, wheeling a suitcase behind her. She looked between me and Evan craftily.

  “Mr. Harrington.”

  “We were just—” I stammered, then wondered why I was so worried what my mother would think.

  Because she’s going to blab to Imogen.

  “You were just talking about the bridesmaids’ dresses and how Evan is paying for all of them,” she said with a wink. “And the jewelry!”

  Evan grimaced and pulled on his jacket. “Sure.” He leaned over and kissed me. “See you tomorrow,” he whispered.