Accidental Triplets - A Secret Babies for the Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 4)

by Layla Valentine

  My heart raced at the sight of everyone there. I couldn't even begin to get a handle on all of the celebrities present. Rhys Cole was nowhere to be found, however, and neither was Nina Wauters—the former supermodel turned genius fashion designer, and head of Wauters Wear, one of the hottest names in the business. She and Mr. Cole were about to present their first collaborative collection, and I couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy at her good fortune in being able to work with a man like him.

  I felt out of place. Everyone there seemed to be leagues more successful than me, and I couldn't help but view myself as some kind of interloper, someone who didn't deserve to be there. Anxiety welled in my stomach, and part of me wanted to finish my drink and flee back to my apartment, chastising myself all the while for thinking I could fit in at a place like this.

  But that's when something caught my eye.

  On the west wall of the entry hall was a large booth, topped with the elegant branding of Cole Apparel. I weaved my way through the crowd and approached it. Sure enough, it was just what I was looking for.

  See, I had a secret. Months ago, Rhys Cole had launched a competition for amateur designers. Anyone who’d wanted to enter had had to submit a design for a new line of cruelty-free clothing. The top prize on offer was a chance to work alongside Mr. Cole himself, who was serving as lead designer on the project. It was the kind of opportunity that an up-and-comer like me couldn't say no to. I knew the odds were slim, but hey, they say you miss all the shots you don't take, right?

  I sidled up to the booth and approached the slim, handsome-faced young man there.

  “Hi!” I said.

  He regarded me with a skeptical expression.

  “Can I help you?” he asked in a mildly snooty tone.

  “My name's Cassidy May,” I blurted out.

  “Good to know,” the man said before preparing to turn away.

  “I was one of the people who entered the competition, and, um, I wanted to know if they were going to be announcing the winner tonight.”

  “Winners will be announced when Mr. Cole is ready to announce them,” he said. “And we have many, many aspiring designers who've entered the competition. I don't have time to talk to them all one-on-one.”

  “Right. Okay, then,” I said, turning on my heel and heading back to the main crowd, feeling a little silly. I mean, I knew that they weren't going to say anything to anyone right then and there, but I was hoping that I might be able to learn something—anything, really—about how far along in the process of deciding they were. But the snooty guy's answer had told me what I should've already known: Rhys Cole would be ready when he was ready.

  Before I could think the matter over too much longer, a low chime sounded through the entry hall. At the top of the stairs, a man with silver hair and as well dressed as everyone else in the room took his place for an announcement. The eyes of everyone in the room locked onto him, including mine.

  “Good evening, everyone,” he said. “And welcome to the spring debut of Cole X Wauters. We're about to start, so if you all would begin finding your seats, it would be most appreciated. Thank you, and enjoy the evening!”

  Here we go—this is it! I thought with excitement immediately overwhelming my previous anxiety.

  I took a look down at my pass and memorized the seat number. From how high the number was, I could tell right away that I was going to be sitting in the fashion-show version of the nosebleed seats. But I didn’t care; I was just happy to be there.

  I took my place in line and soon after stepped into the main room of the convention center. The space was enormous, with glass ceilings that looked up into the night sky above, the full moon casting the place in silver light. A massive stage was in front, and soft, upbeat jazz music played on the speakers. I found my place and slid into my seat, glancing around furtively at all of the celebrities below me. After a few minutes, the house lights dimmed and electronic music blasted through the speakers. The show was about to begin.

  Eager anticipation gripped me as I waited. Soon, through the darkness, I spotted the outlines of a man and a woman. They approached the center of the stage and the lights brightened just enough to see that they were the man and woman of the hour: Rhys Cole and Nina Wauters.

  Applause boomed through the hall and the two took a slight bow. Even from where I was seated, I could see that Rhys Cole was just as gorgeous as he was in pictures. His white-blond hair was slicked back, his gorgeous blue eyes were striking even from afar, and his tall, muscular build gave him immediate command of the stage. His suit was dark and fitted to his body perfectly, and his eyes were complimented by a silk, royal blue bowtie.

  Nina wasn't so bad herself. She'd made her name as one of the top models in the business, and it was clear why she'd found such success in that particular line of work. She was a beauty in every sense of the word, with gorgeous, blond curls, a heart-shaped face, and a smile that could serve as a lighthouse it was so bright. Her body was slim but shapely, and she wore a stunning champagne-colored dress that she'd likely designed herself. As she took Rhys's hand and smiled to the crowd, I couldn't help but feel more than a little envious of her.

  Rhys raised his palms to the crowd and the applause soon died down. A silence hung over the room, everyone clearly eager to for Rhys to start.

  “Happy to see we could fill this place out,” he said, and chuckles sounded from the crowd. “First of all, I'd like to thank you all very much for coming here tonight. As you know, tonight is the debut of not just my spring line, and not just my lovely partner Nina's spring line, but our first collection together.”

  More applause.

  “And I can't put into words just how fortunate I've been to work with such an incredible talent. During my time working with Nina, it's become abundantly clear to me just why she's being talked about as the hottest current name in fashion. While it's been, well, more than a little humbling to watch her run circles around me, just being around this creative force of nature has been one of the most wonderful, enriching experiences of my career. And I hope that our love for the craft comes through in our show tonight.”

  More applause. My heart danced in my chest as Rhys spoke—he was the perfect blend of funny, humble, and commanding. Then, just as Rhys opened his mouth to speak once again, Nina stepped forward, took her mic, and began to speak, her words tinged with a slight Dutch accent.

  “Thank you so much for your kind words, Rhys.”

  Even from where I sat, I caught the mildly surprised expression on Rhys's face. It looked to me like he wasn't expecting her to speak so soon. Nina flashed her gorgeous smile. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the crowd lock onto her. A girl who looked like that could upstage without even trying, and right now, it looked like she was trying.

  “It's been a thrilling year so far, and what you all are about to see tonight is just a taste of the raw, creative energy that Rhys and I have been able to conjure together. So, please, sit back, and enjoy what we have for tonight. And just remember—there's always more to come.”

  More applause sounded as Nina winked, flashed a smile, and turned back towards Rhys.

  “And one more announcement,” he said. “As I'm sure you all know, the turnout for our design competition has been more than what we expected. We're currently going through the work of every entrant, giving everyone the proper amount of time and consideration. We've had the pleasure of looking at some amazing designs by individuals who are sure to be the next generation of talent in fashion.”

  Come on, Rhys, I thought. Get to the winner!

  “But, unfortunately, we're still deciding on just who will be the winner. As the designer we choose will be working side-by-side with me on the new line, it's not a decision I plan on rushing into. After all, you don't vet your partners properly, and look what happens.”

  He shot out a thumb to Nina with a playful smirk and more laughter sounded through the crowd. Nina smiled and gave an “oh, you,” wave.

  “So, we
hope to have the winner announced very soon. And with that, please, enjoy the show.”

  The disappointment was palpable, but like I said, I knew that Rhys wasn't going to announce the winner until he was good and ready.

  My eyes lingered on him as he left the stage; I had to force myself not to stare at his perfect ass, framed nicely in his dark, slim-cut slacks.

  Then, the lights dimmed again, and the walkway lit up with colorful strobes. More electronic music began to play, and I settled into my seat, ready to take it all in. This would surely be a night to remember.

  Chapter 3

  Rhys

  I took a slow sip of my whiskey as I sat backstage at the show. From my vantage point, I had an unobstructed view, and I watched carefully as each model strode down the stage. My eyes narrowed as I took in the designs, watching them in motion, watching how they hung off the slender bodies of the models, watching how the crowd reacted.

  So far, so good. But as pleased as I was with the show thus far, I couldn't help but feel a small burning of resentment at Nina's upstaging of me during the introduction. I knew that something like that shouldn't have bothered me, especially since these last few months of working with her had made it very, very clear to me that she had quite the thirst for attention. But it annoyed me nonetheless.

  My competitive urge was flaring up and I found myself wondering just how I could wrest the attention of the public back onto my designs. She'd been making quite the name for herself over the last year, and while she certainly had the talent to back it up, I wasn't about to let her steal, with a smile and a wink, the position I'd worked so hard to carve out for myself over the last decade.

  I let another sip of whiskey linger on my palate as I considered the idea that a little friendly competition might be just the thing to re-light the fire under my ass. I'd gotten complacent, and I was paying the price.

  An hour later, the show ended and Nina and I strode back onto the stage to booming applause. We clasped our hands together and raised them up as the models strolled around us one last time.

  “Thank you all so very much!” said Nina, beaming. “We hope to see you all again very soon!”

  I shook my head slightly—we'd agreed not to say anything when we came back out at the end of the show, and here she was, scooping up every bit of attention that she could get her hands on.

  “I think that went quite well, Rhys,” said Nina as we stepped backstage. “Your thoughts?”

  She took a glass of champagne that her assistant offered her and sipped it slowly, her cat-like eyes locked onto mine.

  “Couldn't help but notice that you weren't all that interested in letting the clothes speak for themselves.”

  She raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in mock surprise.

  “Now, what do you mean by that?” she asked.

  “Please,” I said. “You couldn't make your need for attention any more transparent.”

  “Now, what's wrong with liking a little attention every now and then?” she asked. “After all, isn't that why we're in this business—so people give us the attention we feel our work deserves?”

  “You don't see me out on stage winking at every actor within ten feet, darling,” I said.

  Nina let out a chiming laugh.

  “Now, that would be something to see,” she said. “Who knows, maybe if you worked the same magic with men that you do with women it'd be a nice little sales boost for you.”

  I let her have her fun.

  “For us,” I corrected.

  Nina opened her mouth slightly and raised her eyebrows again in mild surprise.

  “Is that what this is all about, my dear Rhys? Are you afraid of me taking all of the spotlight? I never imagined you to be the type to be envious of attention.”

  “It's not about attention,” I said, my tone growing stern. “It's about us not overshadowing the work. When you get up there on stage and sashay for the cameras, you're putting the focus on you, not the clothes.”

  “They want a show,” she said, taking her phone out and glancing at the screen. “This isn't just about the clothes—it's about our names, you know.”

  “If you're so desperate to have the focus of the show be on yourself, then perhaps you should go back into modeling?”

  Nina turned her eyes to me, her expression in that “Oh, honey” arrangement, which never failed to get on my nerves.

  “And deprive the fashion world of my abundant talent?” she asked. “Wouldn't dream of it. You know, Rhys, you could learn a thing or two from me.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. There's a reason I've become such a big name in so short of a time, and it's not just because of my impeccable taste. It's because I know how to associate myself with my brand. You see, when someone buys a Wauters Wear piece, they're not just buying the clothes—they're buying a lifestyle. They're buying a little piece of, well, me!”

  I took a sip of my drink and crossed my arms over my chest, deciding to let her go on.

  “Now, you've got a great eye, my dear. No doubt about that. And your clothes are…well, I'm not going to puff up that ego of yours any further. But you could learn a thing or two about marketing from me. I mean, think about what the Wauters name means—it's more than just the clothes; it's glamour and decadence.”

  “My work is timeless,” I said. “I want it to outlast me and to outlast whatever trends come down the pipe. When you associate yourself with a brand so strongly, Nina, you run the risk of your clothing being only popular for as long as you are.”

  She only shook her head sadly, as if I just didn't get it.

  “Think about what I said,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder as she walked past me. “You have it in you to take your brand to the next level, darling. Let me lead you there.”

  She spoke her last words only inches from my ear. And then she was gone.

  I let out sharp exhalation through my nostrils before finishing my drink.

  “Don't let her get to you, Rhys.”

  I turned, and standing only a few feet behind me was my assistant, Travis. Dressed in a slim-cut pinstripe suit, a small carnation tucked into his front pocket, he looked up at me from behind the large-framed glasses that reminded me of something more suitable for a retired comedian. His dark hair was slicked-back into a shellacked gloss, and a wry little smile played on his lips.

  “She's not getting to me,” I said. “She's just annoying me.”

  “That's getting to you.”

  I shook my head and took a seat on a nearby chair, letting my eyes drift over the procession of models taking selfies and chatting in lively tones with one another. They were ready for fun, ready for the after-party, and here I was, stewing about my business partner.

  Travis swooped into the seat across from me with his usual mannered grace and leaned in.

  “Do you think she's right?” asked Travis. “Do you think you're making yourself a little too…distant from the brand?”

  “Nina is too concerned with personal fame,” I said, watching her get pulled into a group selfie among some of the models. “She's a trend-rider. Sure, she's the name at the moment, but who's going to be wearing her clothing in ten years, maybe even five?”

  Travis said nothing, a prim little smile on his lips.

  “You're thinking something,” I said. “I know that face. It means you're going to tell me something that I don't want to hear.”

  “Rhys,” said Travis, his tone almost motherly. “Isn't that what I'm here for?”

  My eyebrows lifted slightly. He wasn't wrong—his candor was part of the reason why I'd chosen him to be my assistant in the first place.

  “Let's hear it.”

  His face brightened instantly.

  “So, as far as I can tell, your issue is that Nina is just a trend-rider, parlaying her fame and personality and good looks and a keen sense of style and charm—”

  “I get it.”

  “Sorry. She's good at marketing. I mean, her clot
hes aren't bad, but her real strength is in knowing how to sell them.”

  “Right.”

  “You, on the other hand, are timeless. You're more like the remote, distant genius who lets the work speak for himself. That has a little bit of a draw, sure, but not as much as a gorgeous former model with millions of social media followers.”

  I said nothing, knowing that he was just on the verge of saying something that I didn't want to hear.

  “And here you two are, butting heads because you're having trouble blending those two different styles. But, luckily for you, I know just the way you can, well…make them work.”

  He locked his hands together.

  “Surely you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting.”

  He lowered his eyes, that smirk still on his face.

  “You two need to date.”

  There it was. I glanced around for the nearest waiter and, once I'd caught his attention, pointed to my glass. The waiter rushed over and poured me the two fingers that I desperately needed at that moment.

  “You're kidding, right? Did Nina put you up to this?”

  He shook his head.

  “I'm as serious as a heart attack.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “Okay, so, the two of you have been working together for a while. And I know that you're, like, above all the social media stuff…”

  “Which is why I leave that to you.”

  “Right, as you should. But you're missing out on what people have been talking about. And they've been talking.”

  With that, he reached into his messenger bag and pulled out his tablet. A few quick swipes later and he held the screen out towards me. It was some gossip blog or another, the front page story being that of me and Nina on stage, not more than an hour ago. The headline read, “Are They, Or Aren't They?”