Page 77 of Falling for the Billionaire Best Man

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KAISEN

That was not the reaction I expected when I handed over the keys to a hundred-thousand-dollar car. I didn’t know if I expected to be thanked with a huge kiss but a thank you would have been nice. She acted like I delivered her a bag of dog shit.

I stood there in the rain, watching her drive off in the Escalade, its taillights disappearing into the mist. My hands clenched at my sides, frustration boiling under my skin. I hadn’t given her that car to piss her off or to buy her affection—I gave it to her because she needed it. Because I wanted her safe. Because I cared. But of course, Dorie saw it as some kind of power play, a manipulation.

She always overthought things. Always jumped to conclusions.

I turned and walked back into the shop, the sound of the rain hammering on the metal roof drowning out my thoughts. The smell of motor oil and rubber tires filled my nose.

I wanted to chase her down, pull her out of that damn car, and make her listen. Make her understand that this wasn’t about money or control or whatever she thought it was. It was about her. Always about her.

I would see her later. At least I knew she’d make it to Atlantic City without breaking down. My plan was to offer her a ride on my jet. I was hoping the short flight would give me a chance to talk to her. An attempt to clear the air. She’d have to talk to me if we were stuck on a plane together. But clearly that wasn’t going to happen.

I called an Uber to take me to the private airport. The ride was quiet, the driver glancing at me in the rearview mirror a few times but wisely keeping his mouth shut. I didn’t have the energy for small talk. My mind was racing, replaying the argument over and over again. Why hadn’t my usual moves worked on her? I wasn’t used to people denying me, and I definitely wasn’t used to being called out for it. But Dorie wasn’t like anyone else I’d ever met, and that was both infuriating and intoxicating.

I boarded my jet alone, the cabin feeling emptier than usual. The flight to Atlantic City gave me too much time to think, and by the time we landed, I was no closer to figuring out what to do about Dorie. She was under my skin, plain and simple, and I needed to let this fixation go. But the thought of letting her go made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely.

There was a car waiting to take me to the hotel. Once again, I climbed in and felt like I was carrying the weight of the world.

I arrived at the luxury hotel where I’d rented out numerous suites for the bachelor/bachelorette weekend. Cullen and Eliza had insisted on Atlantic City instead of somewhere more swanky or tropical because they’d met here on Spring Break back in college. It was sentimental for them. I could respect that, but right then, all I could think about was Dorie.

I wheeled my luggage into my suite. It was a nice, luxurious suite but it did little to change my mood. I dropped my bag on the floor and dropped onto the bed, running a hand through my hair. I felt like absolute garbage. I’d overstepped with Dorie, pushed her too hard, and now she wanted nothing to do with me. And the worst part was, I couldn’t blame her.

The sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, half-expecting it to be Dorie, but it was just Cullen. He was probably wondering where I was. Everyone else had arrived hours ago. I didn’t answer. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, least of all with someone who was about to get married and start the very life I’d just told Dorie I didn’t want.

I stared at the ceiling. My mind kept circling back to her. To the way her eyes had flashed with anger, the way her voice had trembled when she’d asked what she was to me. I’d said I didn’t want her friendship, and that was true. But what did I want? That was the question that had been gnawing at me since she’d driven away.

I needed to get dressed for the dinner I was hosting tonight. I rolled off the bed and unzipped the garment bag, then put on the suit and tied the tie without needing to think about it. My reflection in the mirror looked tired. I was losing sleep because of this Dorie drama.

The dinner was in one of the hotel’s private dining rooms. When I walked in, the room was already buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses. Cullen spotted me first, giving me a wide grin and a mock salute from across the room. Eliza was beside him, her arm looped through his, looking radiant as always. They were perfect together—too perfect—and it made something in my chest ache.

“Kaisen!” Cullen called, waving me over. “Where’ve you been? We were about to send out a search party.”

I forced a smile, slipping into the role I knew so well—the charming best man, the life of the party. “Got held up,” I said vaguely, clapping Cullen on the shoulder. “But I’m here now.”

A server walked into the room carrying a tray of drinks. She took orders for the next round. I ordered a whiskey, neat. The room was too loud, too bright, and I felt like I was suffocating. Dorie had yet to arrive. I didn’t think she would bail on the night.

The server returned with another round of drinks. I took my whiskey and did my best to make small talk with one of the bridesmaids.

Cullen was laughing at something Eliza had said. Everyone around me seemed so happy. And I felt like I was standing on the outside looking in. Where the hell was Dorie?

I excused myself under the guise of checking on the dinner arrangements and slipped out into the hallway. I walked to the lobby thinking maybe Dorie wasn’t sure where the dinner was being held. She wasn’t there.

I headed back to the dining room and took my seat a second time, barely able to sit still.

The conversation at the table had shifted to some animated debate about the merits of pineapple on pizza—a topic I couldn’t care less about—when I felt a tap on my arm. I turned to see Samantha smiling at me, her cheeks flushed and her glass of champagne nearly empty. She’d been giggling all evening, and it was clear she was more than a little tipsy.

“So, Kaisen,” she said, leaning in a little too close.

“Yes, Samantha?”

“How did you get so rich?”

Her perfume was overwhelming—something floral and cloying that made my head ache.

“Hard work and a bit of luck,” I said, keeping my tone light. “But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”