by Cynthia Dane
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Keep Up
Part 1: BRIDES
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part 2: GUESTS
Chapter 18
Part 3: VOWS
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Thanks And Connect
BONUS PREVIEW: Dom Vs. Domme
Also Available
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Keep Up
Part 1: BRIDES
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part 2: GUESTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Part 3: VOWS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Thanks And Connect
BONUS PREVIEW: Dom Vs. Domme
Also Available
The Billion Dollar Wedding
The Honeymoon Collection
Cynthia Dane
BARACHOU PRESS
THE BILLION DOLLAR WEDDING
The Honeymoon Collection
Copyright: Cynthia Dane
Published: May 11th, 2016
Publisher: Barachou Press
This is a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to any characters, settings, or situations are purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
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READING ORDER
1. Brides
2. Guests
3. Vows
Part 1: BRIDES
Chapter 1
By the time the first guest arrived, Jasmine was already losing her mind.
“Is that vegetarian?” she asked Belinda the maid, who carried a tray of finger sandwiches to the grand salon on the ground floor of the manor. “We have at least two vegetarians coming today.”
“Why, yes, of course.” Belinda’s exasperated breath told Jasmine that it was such a silly thing to ask. I can’t help it. Everything that can go wrong today will totally go wrong. That included having no vegetarian finger food. “They’re cucumber sandwiches, Miss.”
“Oh, right.” To be fair, there were finger ham and turkey sandwiches due to come out of the kitchen as well. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to say…”
“It’s all right.” Belinda started walking again. No wonder. That silver tray must weigh a good few pounds with that mound of sandwiches on it. “If you want to worry about something, worry about the parking situation!” That was the last thing she said before she cheerfully entered the salon and exited Jasmine’s sightline.
The parking! Such a gross oversight! She scuttled in her heels to the front doors, where Harold the butler – and Belinda’s husband – waited for guests to arrive. “Is the parking situation okay, Harold?” Jasmine asked, taking a tentative look at the front driveway. A slick Lamborghini was parked in its usual space, and a landscaping truck was nestled in the far corner while the gardener made his rounds in the back flower garden. That left about... five easily accessible parking spaces for guests to park in.
“I checked the RSVPs, Miss,” Harold said. He wasn’t as approachable as his wife, but he tolerated Jasmine and her fancies well enough. He likes me. Totally. It was hard to tell when he always wore the same grim face. “Four personal cars are slated to come today. If there is an overflow of limousines or cars driven by personal drivers, I can show them where to park until the end of the party.”
Jasmine sighed in relief. “Only four cars?”
“Yes, Miss.” Harold finally cracked a smile. “Some of them are carpooling.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh at his wry joke or not.
“In that case, I think everything is ready. I’m going upstairs to talk to Ethan before coming back down for the party.”
“Yes, Miss. I will inform you of any issues.”
“Please do.” Please don’t. Have any issues, that is. Jasmine darted to the grand staircase and made her escape to the quieter parts of the house.
In truth, it was not the biggest house a billionaire could live in. Only five guest rooms, although the expansive property more than made up for it. Not that Jasmine wanted a mansion like some of the ones she had visited over the past year. She didn’t know how those people took care of such space. Oh, right, they have five Belindas and three Harolds. Those two were the only live-in staff at Ethan Cole’s estate in the Hills, and they were two enough.
Her boyfriend Ethan’s office was at the far end of the hall, nestled between their bedroom and a small sitting room that Jasmine liked to escape to because nobody bothered her there. In fact, few people bothered anyone down here. Unless it was Jasmine coming to bust down her boyfriend’s office door – which she did regularly.
She briskly knocked on the door to announce herself before helping herself in. Sure enough, the moment she entered the rustic office paneled with mahogany and sporting Persian rugs and leather furniture, Ethan Cole looked up from his expansive desk and gave her neither a smile nor a frown.
“Everything okay?” he asked. Papers were stacked next to him. Five windows were opened on his computer monitor. He’s working this hard on a weekend? Seemed like Ethan became busier and busier as the months wore on. Jasmine sometimes helped him with the administrative end of things – she used to be his personal assistant, after all – but she had been much too busy with party planning recently. “Nobody’s called me to say the police or fire department were coming, so I assumed things were fine.”
Jasmine was too pumped with adrenaline to smil
e at his dry humor. “Just checking in before I disappear for an entire afternoon. I think everything is ready. Guests are supposed to arrive starting in half an hour.”
Ethan glanced at the clock. “So in about an hour.”
Yes, yes, everyone is so fashionably late these days. “They better not be that late.”
“Oh, they will be.”
“If the guest of honor isn’t here on time, I may well throttle her myself.”
Ethan’s eyebrows went up his forehead. “Be careful. She might like that.”
Normally Jasmine kept such thoughts to herself, but her filter was completely down today. “You would know,” she mumbled.
“Anyway,” Ethan was quick to deflect. “I’ll be up here if there’s an emergency. Otherwise I need to work.”
Jasmine went to him, taking comfort in the sturdiness of his frame as she placed a hand on his shoulder. For a man working at home today – on a Sunday, no less – he was still dressed in one of his nicest pair of trousers, silk shirt, and tie. Although the tie was loose and a suit jacket was nowhere to be seen. Jasmine would ask why he wasn’t relaxing in at least a sweatshirt while he went through this stack of paperwork, but it probably had to do with “dressing for success.” Ethan in a T-shirt and jeans was like spotting a unicorn, anyway.
“You should at least say hi…” She felt him tense beneath her touch.
“I’ll try to make an appearance toward the end of the party. If I don’t, tell Monica she’s free to come visit before she goes home.”
Jasmine stepped away. Ethan continued to sign and stamp paperwork as if Jasmine had never entered the room. He works so hard now. Ethan had always worked hard… it was how he became a billionaire by his thirties… but he still took at least Sundays off. The first couple of times he worked full weekends, Jasmine didn’t think much of it. Depending on the time of year, Ethan could be swamped with work, especially at quarterly tax time. Yet this had been going on for at least two months. They took a whole week off to travel a little while ago, but Ethan worked a good chunk of that time as well. It hardly felt like a vacation.
This all started after… After he lost his business partner.
Who knew that man did so much work after all?
Jasmine didn’t have time to think about her boyfriend’s workload, however. She had a party to host downstairs, and whether or not guests were on time or fashionably late, she had to be available. So she kissed her boyfriend on the forehead and went downstairs, where she happened to catch sight of a limousine pulling up in the driveway.
“Ms. Monica Graham,” Harold announced the moment Jasmine reached the door. “Should I have her driver park somewhere else?”
“No, that’s not necessary. She’s the guest of honor.”
“Very well.”
Jasmine remembered to put on a smile when Monica emerged from the back of her limo, wearing a crimson A-line dress that bloomed right above her waistline. Her flat red shoes clacked on the bricks leading up to the door, and her black purse, which was so stylishly in season, glittered in the rare February sunlight. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun that coiled on top of her head and speckled with a net of rubies.
She was always so much nicer to look at than Jasmine. Monica may have been a woman of humble origins like Jasmine, but she looked like she came from one of the many old money families dotting the landscape. Suppose that makes her a prime candidate to marry into one of those old money families.
“Hey!” Jasmine called, meeting Monica halfway down the front steps. She took her hands and gave them a brief squeeze. “You’re early!”
“I know. I am terrible. Is it a problem?” Monica tipped her sunglasses up. “I was already in the area for something else, and didn’t see the point in going back into town just to come up here again.”
“No problem at all. Nobody else is here yet, though.”
Monica grinned. “They’ll be here in about an hour.”
“The party is supposed to start in half an hour.”
“Yes, and they’ll be very generous by showing up in an hour.”
Jasmine turned, leading her up the stairs and into the main hall of the small manor. Belinda took Monica’s coat she had slung over her shoulder, but otherwise they were left alone as they walked through the house and into the salon. “You don’t have problems getting people to show up to your parties.”
“That’s because everyone has sex at my parties. Of course they’re on time.” She snorted. “Or early, if you know what I mean.”
Jasmine blushed. Monica looked the demure daughter of a well-to-do family, but she was anything but. The demureness came from her role as a lifestyle submissive, but everything else? Monica was one of the shrewdest businesswomen Jasmine knew. She owned and operated a Château high in the mountains that catered to the kinky tastes of the region’s elite. It’s a BDSM brothel. We all know it. Somehow Madam Monica had managed to skirt legalities by finding all sorts of ridiculous loopholes in the local laws. It also helped that she was now engaged to one of the coast’s wealthiest men and slated to marry him by the end of the month. Here I am, throwing her bridal shower.
They sat and talked over cucumber sandwiches and sparkling cider. What was going on in their lives? How were the wedding preparations? Had Jasmine received her bridesmaid’s dress yet? Oh, were the alterations to her liking? How was Ethan doing? Working at home on a Sunday? That was so like him.
Jasmine didn’t even realize that forty-five minutes had gone by before the first guest arrived. Fashionably late, although not terribly so. She got up and went to the door, ready to play the part of a sophisticated hostess as some of the area’s most elite women came up her stairs. Instead, she got Nadia, Ethan’s assistant and hardly an elite woman.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She clamored up the steps, almost out of breath since she apparently ran from the cab that brought her up here. “Did I miss anything? Oh, I’m putting you out so badly!”
Jasmine shrugged. She could be casual with this woman, one of her closest friends. “Only Monica’s here so far. She informed me that everyone else will probably be hours late.”
“Huh? That’s messed up.”
A breeze tickled Jasmine’s bare arms, and she was prompted to lead Nadia into the house. “That’s the rich, I suppose.”
Nadia snorted. “They’re probably playing tennis or something.”
Or getting laid. That seemed to happen a lot.
Jasmine had resigned herself to the fate of the eternally waiting hostess by the time the first actual guests began to arrive. I barely know these women. Most of them were Monica’s friends, including other bridesmaids – minus the girls who worked for her, since they were, well, working for her back at the Château. Yet there were friends and other prominent women from the area who Jasmine would be remiss to not include on this intimate guest list. Not that I’m happy about having strangers in my home… that I have to entertain. One thing if Ethan invited a business friend and they brought wives or brothers. This was different.
Jasmine had to work her ass off to pretend to be one of them.
She wasn’t delusional. She knew she wasn’t as refined as these other women, nor had they fully accepted her into their fold. The business world accepted Ethan, even though he grew up dirt poor, because he was successful… and male. As far as the women were concerned, Jasmine was still a nobody. Don’t remind me.
In the many months she had lived with Ethan, Jasmine had seen her life transform in wild and wondrous ways. On one hand, she had one of the hottest and richest men around as her devoted boyfriend. Sure, he was a workaholic who could get fairly scary when ripping someone a new asshole on the phone, but he was always tender to her and their friends – and not to mention what he was like in the bedroom when he finally let himself relax. They went on trips all around the world, mostly for his business, but they always took an extra day or two to enjoy the cultures together. Jasmine’s student loan debt was paid off and she never needed
a job. She could eat anywhere. Shop anywhere. She had a driver on call if she decided to pick up a friend and go to the movies, her treat.
On the other hand, trying to fit into the world of the elite had been… trying, at best.
I don’t want to think about it.
Not only had Monica chosen Jasmine to host her bridal shower, but Jasmine also knew this was her chance to make nice with some of the well-to-do women both in the Hills and the city. Most of the ones there that day either knew Monica personally enough to make her laugh or were influential enough in their spheres that they could not be not invited. Having women of that station all around her made Jasmine more than a little nervous. Would they think her food and drink offerings were good enough? Would they snicker at her dress and the way she walked? Usually Jasmine didn’t care, but she and Monica were the center of attention today.
At least she had Nadia, who was there because she had known Monica for a few years… and because Jasmine needed somebody there who was on her wavelength – her poor people wavelength.
That worked until the final two guests arrived, so fashionably late that half the cucumber sandwiches were already gone and one of the women broke into the bottle of champagne because she, “Desperately needed some juice, you know.”
“I can’t believe they held up traffic for a whole half hour!” A voice loudly proclaimed in the main hall. Jasmine got up before Harold could announce the final two guests. “I was ready to run that fucker over!”
Three of the more conservative women at the shower exchanged cursory glances. Not only was such language crass, but they probably didn’t like who the voice belonged to.
“I’m glad you could make it anyway,” Jasmine greeted just outside the salon door. “We’ve barely started.”
“Uh huh. Nice to see you too.” Eva Warren, a woman of tall means and taller stature, walked into the salon with her best friend in tow. “I need a drink. You have drinks, right?”
“Don’t drink too much. You’re driving,” said Kathryn Alison, another blonde who walked as if she was sophistication incarnate. Jasmine gulped. These two were notorious gal-pals who could tear up clubs, bars, and garden parties alike. Let alone the bridal shower of Eva Warren’s future sister-in-law, whom she kissed on the cheek and called “sister” before pouring herself a glass of champagne and downing it in one gulp. Half the women in there were amused while the others shifted in their seats. “And give me some.”
