by Alina Jacobs
“I guess you could do it in the Brookview. It’s not booked.”
“The hotel with the clock tower?” I asked.
Archer rubbed his hands together. “This will be perfect.”
“But you have to do something for us,” Mike warned. “Have one of your magazines do a full spread. You know, really make it seem like a great event space. We’re losing money on that building. I swear, Archer, I’m so tired of renovating these historic buildings. They’re money sinks.”
“As long as we sell that penthouse, we’ll be in the black.” They looked at me hopefully.
I grimaced.
“Let me know when you change your mind,” Archer said. “I’ll knock a million off of it.”
“Just one thing,” Mike warned me. “We do not have a liquor license yet for that building. That’s why we haven’t booked a wedding there. It has to be bone dry—no serving alcohol, the caterers cannot have alcohol, none of the guests can have alcohol. If you bring it in, that’s it. We kick you out.”
“Understood.”
Ivy met me at the Brookview Hotel later that evening to survey the venue and ceremony space. I wrapped my arms around her.
“See, being a billionaire is very convenient.”
“I cannot believe you pulled this off. How much did you have to pay? Wait, no. I don’t even want to know.”
“Just the cost of a magazine spread,” I told her, still feeling a flush of warmth from the way she looked at me like I was her hero. I bent down to kiss her, and she melted in my arms. “Now’s the part where you tell me how amazing I am and how you want to fall down in worship at my feet,” I teased.
Ivy pressed a soft kiss to my mouth.
“You’re amazing, seriously. You saved the day.”
My heart ached with the way she looked at me, her eyes shining. “Let’s see the venue first before you get too excited,” I told her. “Hopefully, it’s up to your standards.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect, since it’s in the same building as my all-time favorite piece of real estate. Really, though, Imogen should just be glad we’re not having her wedding at Chuck E. Cheese.”
“Could you imagine?” I chuckled as I held the door of the elevator for Ivy. “The nuclear fallout would spread to New Jersey.”
“I know!” Ivy giggled as the elevator took us up to the event space.
“For your consideration: the ceremony space,” I said, throwing open a set of double doors to a rectangular room. At one end was an ornately carved wooden pavilion decorated with fairy creatures and flowers carved out of a richly stained wood. “Supposedly, this was a salon for women back in the day when they still separated the sexes.”
“This is perfect!” Ivy gushed. “Imogen doesn’t deserve this.” She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed.
I laughed and took her hand, kissing it. “Why?” I teased. “Trying to save it for your own wedding?”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “The way things are going, I don’t think I’ll ever get married.”
“Don’t tell me my cynicism has affected you,” I said mildly as I took her up the grand staircase to the ballroom.
Ivy snorted. “Don’t get me wrong. I still love weddings, but I don’t know if I’m ever going to meet the right man who’s going to be worth spending two years of my life planning one.”
“You wouldn’t plan a wedding for me?” I asked, trying and failing to sound unserious.
She turned to look at me. We paused outside the row of large pocket doors. “We can’t get married! We’re not in a relationship.”
“We could be,” I told her then leaned down to kiss her.
“What happened to no-strings-attached rebound sex?”
“I still fully intend to have hot and dirty sex with you,” I told her, “if you’re concerned that it will turn to vanilla.”
Ivy leaned against the doors. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”
I kissed her again. “Very serious,” I said, needing her to see that I meant it. “So serious that I would give you carte blanche to plan the wedding of your dreams, and I’d show up in a formal kilt with a thousand puppies and everything.”
“Oh no, not the puppies! If you can solve that one, then I will forever and totally be in your debt.”
“Working on it,” I promised, throwing open the doors. “Behold, my wedding planner: your venue.”
“Wow!” Ivy breathed, looking around. The dark mahogany floors were inlaid with the hotel’s logo in an art deco design. The crystal chandeliers glimmered, and the double-height windows looked out over the city. “It’s like Beauty and the Beast.”
“Hey!” I said, grabbing her about the waist and waltzing her around the room. “I feel personally attacked!”
“Why? That’s totally you!” she teased. “Too much money, a bad attitude, talks to inanimate objects.” She slipped out of my arms. “I think we’ll set up the bridal table here, though there aren’t that many of us.”
“Us?”
Ivy grimaced. “I’m a bridesmaid.”
“We are totally having hot sex at Imogen’s wedding,” I growled at her. “It’s tradition for the wedding party members to sleep together at the wedding.”
“I will be far too busy to hook up with you at Imogen’s wedding,” she said, kissing me lightly on the nose.
“Then I guess we’re going to have to do it now.”
“Aren’t there cameras?”
“Not in here. Archer doesn’t even have a liquor license.”
“Oh lord, a dry wedding.”
“I told you, we’re going to need a couple quickies to make it through the night with no alcohol.”
She pushed away from me to snap pictures of the space with her phone. Watching her walk around, doing her thing, taking control, I honestly found it incredibly sexy. Too sexy. So sexy that I needed to do something about it. I took her by the hand and swept her into the coatroom, kissing those perfect lips of hers. She was exasperated by this.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed.
“Stress relief?”
She stared, taking a moment before catching on. “You can’t be serious.”
I picked her up, my fingers digging into the curves of her ass, and pinned her against the door. “I am serious. We’re alone, aren’t we?”
“One of the hotel staff could see us!”
“It’s evening, and we haven’t been up here that long,” I reminded her, kissing her hard. She strained against me. “Do you really want me to stop?” I whispered, pressing hot kisses along her neck, one hand creeping under her skirt to stroke her through the lacy panties.
“I want you,” she whispered, her voice raw with desire.
“Turn around,” I told her. “I prefer less clothing, but sometimes you have to make compromises when there is a beautiful woman in front of you and you have to fuck her right then and there.”
I kissed the back of her neck and hiked down her panties to stroke her wet pussy. She spread her legs as I undid my pants. She was reluctant to do it in such a public space, but God, did she want to do it anyway. Knowing something is a bad idea and still doing it? My kind of girl.
After putting on a condom, I pushed into her, enjoying the unbelievable tightness that she had, how her pussy just seemed to masterfully squeeze me in all the right ways. Hearing her moans as I took her was everything I wanted.
“I’m addicted to you,” I said in her ear as I fucked her, feeling her shake around me, tremble with every penetration. My hand wrapped around, going up to the top of her dress, grabbing her breast, feeling its softness, its heat. It perked up under my touch, her moaning lightly as I massaged her there.
I wrapped a hand around her mouth to stifle her screams. She bit my palm, making my cock jerk inside her.
“Fuck, Ivy, everything about you just turns me on.” I needed more of her, and I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. I fucked her harder, faster, letting my energy flow into her, letting her moan for me.
Her body shuddering around me was so damn intense. I lived for that feeling. Her clasping down on me like a fucking vise, shuddering around my cock. The release was as amazing as it always was. The greatest feeling I’d ever felt, really. Without a contest. She was too damn perfect, and she had no idea how perfect she was. It was almost frustrating.
“I want this every day for the rest of my life,” I whispered in her ear.
“Sex in public places is not going to be our new thing,” Ivy hissed, pulling up her panties. “I always make the worst decisions around you, Evan. I’m surprised you’re not all over the news with how reckless you are.”
“You’ve tempered me,” I told her and kissed her again. “You’re a good girlfriend.”
“We are not dating,” she said incredulously. “This is supposed to be casual sex.”
“It isn’t casual for me anymore,” I said seriously. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to be that for you.”
Ivy stiffened. “Are you serious?”
42
Ivy
Why couldn’t I have just told him that I liked him and wanted to date him? Why did I have to be such an awkward weirdo?
This is why you can’t have nice things, I scolded myself as I followed Evan downstairs. You want him. You want him to be your boyfriend, not just a hookup.
But it could ruin my company…
The wedding’s almost over. Tell him you want to date him after the paperwork is signed and to keep it under wraps. Girl power! Go for what you want! Even if it’s cock!
“Evan…” I turned to him, but he was engrossed on his phone.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, giving me a distracted kiss then all but shoving me into the town car that waited outside of the hotel.
You blew it, I scolded myself as the car took me back home. You should have told him how you feel. Now he’s never going to want to see you again.
Mrs. Russo was packing up her apartment when I arrived.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she told me. “The movers are going to come grab these boxes bright and early. You have to come visit me in Harrogate, though!”
“I’ll miss you,” I said, hugging her. And I would. The older woman had been a bright spot in my stressful life. I was suddenly sad.
“You can’t be crying like that,” Mrs. Russo admonished, hands on her hips. “Not when you have that good-looking, charming man in your life. You know, he had someone over here earlier to fix your door.”
“He did?” I said hopefully.
“You need to put a ring on a man like that, pronto.”
“I agree!” my mother said, sticking her head out of my condo.
She was another reminder that I still hadn’t dealt with the mortgage issue. I had been able to make another payment since Evan settled the bill for Camilla’s wedding, but I was still way behind.
Maybe Evan kicking you to the curb is for the best. You have too much going on to be in a relationship.
“Evan’s definitely falling for you,” my mother insisted. “Trust me. We just have to seal the deal.”
“I’m not sealing anything,” I said, pushing her back into the condo and closing the now-fixed door.
“Camilla is trying to win him back,” my mother insisted. She jumped on my bed, sitting cross-legged like a teenager. “We need to strategize.”
“The only thing I’m strategizing about is Imogen’s wedding,” I replied. “It’s in less than a week and a half. We just have to survive the bachelorette party and the rehearsal dinner, then we’re home free.”
“Why can’t you treat me like you do your friends?” my mother whined as I worked on redoing the wedding venue layout in my design software. “Let’s go out, get drinks, and you can tell me all about Evan.”
“You mean, I pay for drinks while you give me terrible advice,” I retorted.
“I’m your mom,” Tiffanie said shrilly. “I’ve sacrificed everything for you. I never got to have my fun teenage years. I didn’t get to go to college and party. I didn’t get to live in New York City as a single woman. You owe me for everything I’ve done for you.”
“Fine,” I said, grabbing my purse, pulling out the last ten-dollar bill from my wallet, and shoving it at her. “Go have a drink.”
“This isn’t enough for a drink,” she complained. “And I wanted to go with you, my only daughter, and have some girl time.”
“One of us has to find a way to pay for all of this and put on a wedding that Imogen is hell-bent on derailing,” I snapped, hating that I had just fallen back into the same pattern, with my mom guilt-tripping me and me then having to act like the adult and manage her feelings. “I need to outline the events for the article that one of Evan’s magazines is publishing about the wedding. I can’t go have fun with you right now.”
My mom’s phone dinged. She smiled.
“At least Imogen wants to go have drinks. She wants my opinion on the flower arrangement.”
“Those are already set,” I warned as my mother skipped out, texting on her phone. “Tell her they’re already set!”
“We are not changing the flower arrangements again,” Amy told me over breakfast the next morning.
“No way,” I agreed, cutting into my eggs Benedict.
“Really?” Amy said. “Because Imogen sent me all these pictures of flower arrangements at two in the morning.” I looked at her phone screen.
“I’ll tell Evan to tell her it’s not happening.”
“Oh, so you and Mr. Harrington are on a first-name basis now?” Amy teased. “I thought you two were just having a very discrete hookup.”
I spread jam on a piece of the artisanal scone. “He said he wants more.”
“Like more sex? More kinky activities?”
“Like a relationship.”
“That’s not a good idea. Besides, Camilla still thinks they’re getting back together. She could ruin our business and make our lives miserable.”
“Are you sure Evan is worth all that?” Elsie asked. “Maybe he just wants you because he can’t have you, and you’re not throwing yourself at him like the bimbos he’s used to. As soon as you give in, he’ll get bored. Just let Camilla have him back.”
“But she’s so awful!” I said, taking another bite of my eggs Benedict. “I can’t just hand Evan over to her without a fight.”
“Oh my word, you actually care about him!” Sophie insisted.
“I don’t! I just feel bad for him. And he’s hot and is good in bed. It’s like crack for me.”
“You like him for more than that.”
I looked at my plate dejectedly. “It doesn’t matter. Guys like him and girls like me don’t belong together.”
“Boo,” Grace said. “Give it a shot. What do you have to lose?”
“Uh, how about our entire business?” Elsie countered.
“You’re the last one to be worried,” Grace told her. “Weddings only make up like a third of your catering contract. Don’t you mostly do bar mitzvahs?”
“I still don’t want to be blacklisted! A lot of our business is repeat clients.”
“I think it’s too late,” I moaned. “Last night when he asked to get serious, I wasn’t all that enthusiastic.”
“Just text him and tell him you had time to think about it,” Grace said.
“No!” Sophie interjected. “You need to text him a sexy picture and tell him you want to be the future Mrs. Harrington. You want to give him no opportunity to question your commitment.”
“Commitment,” I said, looking at my empty plate, hoping more food would show up. The thought of committing to Evan was making me anxious—and sort of excited.
“
You can’t be single forever,” Amy said. “Give him a shot!”
“Give what a shot?” Brea said, coming up to our table with a humongous wedding dress flowing behind her. “Is Evan still fulfilling his duties as a living sex toy?” she asked brightly, causing Elsie to almost choke on her food.
“Having never had a, you know, actual guy stay over at my place,” she said, whispering conspiratorially, “what do you do with him after you’re, you know, done? Like, do you feed him? Tell him to go stand in a corner? Do you have to clean him off, or does he do it himself? Also, where are the pictures?”
“I’m not taking pictures of him,” I said, finishing the last of my drink then wiping my hands.
“Take this dress over to Evan,” Brea said, pouring herself a drink from the pitcher of mimosas. “After adding the additional lace that Imogen wanted, removing it, then adding it again so she could quote ‘show up that bitch Kaitlyn,’ I’m going to strangle her if I have to see her.”
“I don’t know if I can deal with him right now. I haven’t had enough fried food today.”
“Ooh!” Brea said. “But guess what? I had some extra lace, so I made you some bridal lingerie as a little surprise for him when you take off your clothes. I’m thinking of branching out into wedding-night foreplay.” She beamed at me and held up the skimpy little garment. “Look! I even embroidered little penises on it!”
43
Evan
Last night, the issue of selling her home had crept in and destroyed my evening with Ivy.
You were doing that all by yourself.
Had I come on too strong? Maybe she didn’t want me like I wanted her. I had originally promised no-strings-attached fun and pleasure. But Ivy was friendly, selfless, caring, and perfect, and I had fallen for her. Hard. And now I was going to ruin the best thing in my life if I allowed the Svenssons to kick her out of her home.
Carl Svensson had texted me last night to tell me they were about to go forward with the eviction. It would take a few days for all the paperwork to move through the system. But the clock was ticking. The money wasn’t the issue. I had hundreds of millions I could wire over immediately. But Sutherland wasn’t going to give me the substitute property without my marrying Camilla. Could I do it? Could I go through with at least a fake engagement to her?
