The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake: Billionaires and Bridesmaids 4

by Jessica Clare

  He tried not to feel disappointed at that small rejection, but damn. “Good. I’m going to walk you back to your car. You need to get out of this heat. And then I want you to go home and eat a big meal. Lots of proteins and carbohydrates. Then, when you’re done with that, take a hot shower and relax for the rest of the day.” He picked her glasses up and held them out to her.

  She plucked the glasses from his hand and scowled at him. “Don’t tell me what to do. I have entirely too much going on to take a day off. I have to call a dozen caterers and see who can squeeze us in, and then there’s staff for valet parking for the day of the wedding, and I need to call about cakes, and—”

  When she stood, he stood, too, and tried to pick her up in his arms again.

  She batted at him, angry. “What are you doing?”

  “If you’re not going to relax and take it easy, I’m going to force you to.” He ignored her flying, ineffective fists, and cradled her against his chest. “The wedding can’t go on if the planner passes out all day.”

  “Fine,” she bellowed, shoving at his chest. “Fine! You win! I’ll go home and eat an enormous meal and then spend the rest of the day in bed.”

  He put her down.

  “With my phone,” she amended. “And my laptop. But in bed.”

  Small victories.

  ***

  Even though Greer swore she was fine, Asher insisted on following her home and didn’t relax until she was pulling her rental car into the driveway at the Dutchman castle. Only then did the breath he’d felt like he was holding all afternoon escape him.

  God, he’d felt as if he’d aged a hundred years in an hour. Seeing Greer collapse like that had made him realize just how delicate she was . . . and just how much she meant to him. They’d been such close friends all through college and he’d taken her for granted: the late nights she’d stayed up studying with him, the times he was sick and she’d made him chicken noodle soup, the unwavering support she’d given him, the way they both liked the same sappy black-and-white movies.

  Seeing her faint had just clinched in his mind that she was his, and he’d do anything to win her back. It was clear that his Greer had a spine of solid metal under that sweet, demure exterior, though. He mentally replayed her quiet removal of his hand from her knee over and over again.

  He needed a plan to win her back.

  All right, then. If he was going to create a fake wedding just to get her closer to him, he’d take advantage of that closeness.

  If Greer was around him daily, there was no way he couldn’t break down those barriers she’d erected. She’d loved him once; he could get her to love him again.

  He hoped.

  He needed more than just being around her to win her back, though. Hell, he’d been around her today and where had that gotten him? She’d been so stressed she’d forgotten to eat and had nearly passed out at his feet. Furtive meetings weren’t the answer.

  They had to be together, and constantly. It was so easy for her to shoot him down, now that she was convinced he was terrible at sex.

  All right, then. He’d have to convince her otherwise. But how?

  As he drove back to his hotel on the strip, a plan began to form in his mind.

  ***

  “Augusta, what’s this meeting on my schedule at noon?” Greer studied her phone, frowning, as she headed into her father’s personal assistant’s office on the second floor of the Dutchman castle.

  Augusta looked up from her laptop, a pinched frown on her long face. “Mr. Sutton asked me to set that up. It’s a daily check-in on the wedding proceedings. Make sure you and the brides and the groom—or his stand-in—are all on the same page.”

  “Ah.” She stood there like an idiot as Augusta went back to work, her gaze returning to her computer. “And . . . is Mr. Sutton going to be there?” Please say no. Please say no.

  The look on Augusta’s face was something between Really? and I don’t have time for this shit. “Of course.”

  “Of course,” Greer echoed, and turned and marched out of the room. Well, nuts. A daily meeting was a good idea, because herding Bunni, Tiffi, and Kiki was a lot like herding cats. But seeing Asher daily? That she could do without. It still hurt her down to her soul to see his handsome face. This was not going to help her heart heal any faster.

  But she was low on choices, wasn’t she? Her father had been scarce ever since announcing the wedding. He was in California meeting with a stockholder today and would return in a few days for the engagement party that had been hastily thrown together. Just two hundred of his closest friends . . . and representatives from every media outlet available.

  Greer’s stomach was in knots just thinking about it. Today, though, she remembered to eat. She munched on a protein bar as she went over her notes from the endless calls she’d made yesterday. She’d found a wedding baker willing to take on the task of the ornate cakes for the upcoming wedding for a hefty rush fee, but caterers were still iffy. Even though it would be a massive media event, most places were already booked. It was too much for Marta and her assistants to handle on their own—the poor cook was already baking up a storm in preparation for the engagement party and had enlisted three of her grown children to help her. Greer had promised them all bonuses. But a wedding with an ever-changing guest-list of hundreds? She wouldn’t inflict that on Marta. She’d just have to call further out. Check a few outlying cities. Maybe they could even fly in a caterer if they could get him/her experienced temp staff. She nibbled on the protein bar as she considered options and wrote notes to herself. She could make this happen. It would just require thinking a little more outside the box.

  “There you are,” Kiki said, interrupting Greer’s train of thought. The “blue” triplet was wearing a baby blue string bikini with a scarf tied at her hips. She was stunningly gorgeous, and her smile was friendly. She was also standing in front of Asher. “Look who I found!”

  “Lucky you.” Greer sat up straight in her chair and adjusted her glasses on her face as Kiki and Asher entered the dining hall. She hated to think it, but they would have made a really magnificent couple. They were of a similar height, given that Kiki was in stiletto heels, and her big blonde hair was artfully tousled, held off her face with a pair of designer sunglasses.

  And of course, Asher looked like the type of billionaire playboy that would be with a high-maintenance blonde like Kiki. He wore faded jeans with a navy blazer and a pale blue shirt, the sleeves of both rolled up at his forearms. It was paired with a navy skinny tie and sunglasses, and Asher’s hair was swept back off his face in his usual casual style. On a lesser man, it would have looked like he was trying too hard. But on Asher? He just looked . . . perfect. Breezy, cool, and too chic for someone like Greer to have ever slept with.

  Why did that make her stomach sour? Why did she care if he looked like the perfect match for someone like Kiki and not someone like her? Greer smoothed the front of her yellow summer sweater that she had over subdued gray slacks. Both were tight in all the wrong places . . . and she’d just brushed a boatload of crumbs off her boobs. Ugh. “Are you both here for the meeting?” She hid her wrapper and pulled her paperwork closer to her spot at the table. “We’re missing two triplets.”

  “Bunni and Tiffi were getting manicures. They should be here soon.” Kiki sat down in a chair directly across from Greer, and Asher sat next to her.

  Greer had to work hard to keep the frown off her face. There were only twenty empty chairs, after all. Why not pick the one right next to the hot blonde? “Did you make your guest list?” Her voice came out with more of a snap than she’d anticipated, and she mentally cringed.

  “I emailed it to you,” Kiki said.

  Oh. “Wonderful.” She tried to sound enthusiastic, but all she could notice was how like a matched pair Asher and Kiki were sitting across from her. Like Malibu Barbie and Billionaire Ken. Of course Bil
lionaire Ken would nail Barbie’s dark, half-Indian little friend in private. In public? He would totally end up with Malibu Barbie. Teeth gritted, she opened her mail app on her phone and flipped through emails until she found Kiki’s guest list. Her irritation vanished at the thought and detail Kiki had given her in her list. “You numbered them?”

  “Numbers were important, right? So I tried to keep things small and crucial.”

  She had. Eighty guests was extremely reasonable given her siblings. “And the others?”

  “I’m making them do spreadsheets, too, though Tiffi’s not very good with hers. Once we get them finalized, I’ll have them email them to you.”

  “Can we have them by this Friday? I need to make reservations for outdoor furniture rentals and then there’s the question of how much food we need to cater, and how big the cake will be, and we’re already on a tight schedule.”

  Kiki nodded. “Friday works.”

  Asher drummed his fingers on the table. “I’ll work with Stijn’s secretary to make sure his list is to you by Friday, too.”

  “What happens on Friday?” Bunni trotted into the room, followed by Tiffi, who was slurping on an iced latte. She blew on her hot pink fingernails and sat down right next to Asher. “Hey, you.” Her smile grew catlike.

  “You need your guest list in,” Asher murmured. To give the man credit, he didn’t even look over at Bunni’s pink-corseted glory. Tiffi sat next to Kiki, and all four of them looked expectantly at Greer.

  “That’s right,” she said, clearing her throat. “Finalized guest lists must be in by Friday morning. I need to get invites printed and we have to start planning for how many people, so there’s zero wiggle room if you don’t get it in on time.”

  “It’s hard,” Tiffi whined, sticking her lower lip out in a pout. “Kiki’s making me keep my list under one hundred and fifty people and I don’t know who I’m going to take off the list!”

  God bless Kiki for having a clue. “One hundred and fifty is still a large number,” Greer told her. “Remember, this is your closest friends and family. Everyone else can just send you gifts. Or you can have a separate party with them when you return from your honeymoon.” And that would be a party she would not be organizing.

  “Ooo, gift registry!” Bunni pulled out her phone and began to type. “I totes need to register at all my favorite places.”

  Two seconds later, the other triplets had their phones out and were typing.

  “Right now we need to talk about theme,” Greer said, feeling desperate. “Can you put your phones away so we can focus?”

  “What about rainbows?” Asher offered. “Rainbows might be a nice theme.”

  Rainbows? For a wedding? Unless there was an LGBTQ couple, rainbows would not work. “We need to think romance. Think fairy tales. Think—”

  “Unicorns?” Tiffi asked.

  Asher’s lips twitched.

  “Not unicorns,” Greer bit out. “When I said fairy tales, I meant that you should think along the lines of happy ever afters. Ball gowns and—”

  “We could do unicorns,” Asher interrupted. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that made Greer want to choke him. “You could just rent a bunch of white horses and strap horns on their faces.”

  Tiffi squealed. “Oh my god, I love it! And I could ride in on a horse!”

  No! Horses were such a bad idea. They pooped everywhere, they had to have handlers, and any sort of animal was hard to control in a crowded party environment. “I really don’t think unicorns are a good idea.”

  “What about mermaids?” Bunni asked. “We could make the guests wear fish tails and swimsuits. And they could sit in the pool.”

  “You can’t ask your guests to sit in the pool—”

  “I’m not dressing as a mermaid,” Kiki protested.

  “Just the guests,” Bunni assured her. “We’re totally going to be rocking out some couture wedding gowns. I want a two-piece one. A halter on top and like, a hot pink skirt on the bottom with lots of layers.”

  “I thought traditional might be more appropriate,” Kiki said uncertainly, casting a worried look at Greer.

  “Yes! Traditional! We should focus on that. You can still have a lot of fun with a more traditional theme. And when I mention theme, I was thinking more like how you could use the same sort of symbol on the invites and on the monograms for the tablecloths. Not unicorns—”

  “It’s my wedding and I want to ride in on a white unicorn,” Tiffi said stubbornly.

  “It’s my wedding too,” Bunni said. “And I like the idea of mermaids. You were the one that suggested fairy tales, Greer. I’m just going with your suggestion.”

  “No, I said you should think of this as your fairy tale. Something magical and romantic. I didn’t say that everyone should dress up like they’re in a fairy tale.”

  “Maybe you should be clearer,” Asher said, and Greer could have sworn his lips twitched with amusement.

  He was doing this to piss her off, wasn’t he? Wasn’t it bad enough that she was having to put together this farce of a wedding in a month’s time? Why was he making this worse for her? She jumped to her feet. “Can we talk in private, Mr. Sutton?”

  “Oooo,” Tiffi whispered. “Someone’s in trouble.”

  “I’ll spank him,” Bunni cooed. She gave Asher a lascivious wink as he got to his feet. “You just tell me where you want it.”

  “In the study, please,” Greer barked and pointed at a nearby door. She then pointed at the women. “You three stay here and come up with which theme you want. We’ll talk about it more when Mr. Sutton and I get back.”

  One of the girls gave her a quick salute, as if Greer were a drill sergeant. Greer ignored that and marched into the adjoining study. She held the door open until Asher sauntered in, and then closed it firmly behind him.

  They needed to talk. Greer turned, leaning against the doors, her hands still on the handles so she wouldn’t inadvertently reach out and choke the man. “What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered at him.

  He leaned in. “I’m helping.” And the bastard grinned at her.

  “You’re making it worse! You’re supposed to be here to help me out, not to turn this into a three-ring circus.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Asher crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “Your father has turned marrying those poor girls into a game. They’re the laughingstock of every tabloid in the nation at the moment, or haven’t you been paying attention?”

  She glared at him and stepped away from the door. Actually, she’d seen a few articles on the upcoming wedding that were downright unkind, and she’d stopped reading after that. “Don’t talk so loud, they’ll hear.”

  “You think they don’t know that people are going to make fun of them? You think they’re not stressed out over this?” Asher shook his head slightly. “If anything, you should be mad at your father for taking what should be a wedding and making it a pure publicity stunt. He’s not going to come out of this any worse for the wear, but those three are going to be labeled as gold diggers for the rest of their lives. I think if they want a few stupid unicorns on the day that they might potentially marry your father—and the odds are one in three at the moment, unless something changes—then they have every right.”

  Greer glared at him, feeling helpless. He wasn’t wrong about the situation, and that made her feel worse. Was her father making this a joke? Yes. Could he be dissuaded? No. “That’s why it’s so important for the wedding to be classy and beautiful, Asher. It needs to be something that everyone can look at and realize that however it seems on the outside, we took it seriously. They’re nice girls. They deserve to have a wedding they can be proud of—”

  “No matter who the groom is?” He arched an eyebrow at her.

  “I’m not going to discuss my father right now.” Though really, he wasn’
t saying anything she hadn’t thought herself. She clasped her hands in front of her. “But this is why it’s so important that I have your help to keep things going. We need to think classic and elegant, since we’re already in a time crunch. I don’t need you filling their ears with ideas about unicorns and flying doves—”

  “I never said anything about doves.” He took a step closer to her, smiling.

  She hated that his smile made her feel weak in the knees. After this, she was totally taking that six-month sabbatical to get over him. She’d need it after being in close proximity for a month. “I need your help,” she repeated. “Please, please help me keep them on track.”

  Asher leaned in closer. “Wanna make a bargain?”

  Her brows drew together. “A bargain?”

  “Yep. You want my help with the wedding. I want your help with something. We both get what we want. Seems simple to me.”

  There was a calculating look in those bright blue eyes that she didn’t trust. “This sounds like a trap.”

  “It’s not a trap, I promise. You want help with the wedding, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she ventured, still skeptical. She knew Asher, and she knew he was up to something. “What do you want from me?”

  He leaned in, ever closer. So close that, for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. And then she mentally berated herself because of course he wasn’t . . .

  . . . and she hadn’t pulled away, either, had she?

  “I need,” he began slowly, “your help with . . . seduction.”

  She must have heard that wrong. “Beg pardon?”

  “I want you to help me with my seduction techniques.”

  Chapter 6

  It was the perfect plan.

  It was completely and utterly ridiculous, of course. Demanding that a woman practice dating and seduction with him when he knew he was already perfectly good at it? It was ludicrous. But then again, so was the wedding that Greer was desperately trying to pull together.

  At least he had her full attention now.