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“What time will you be off?” I answer her back.
“Soon.”
Soon? That’s not a timeline I can deal with. My hands immediately gravitate to my temples, and I press the pads of my fingers into the throbbing skin. Not even married yet and already my soon-to-be wife stresses me out.
I call for my driver. “Stefan, bring the car around.”
I stand and shrug on my Westmancott suit jacket before securing the paper that’s so important to her into a manila envelope.
The sun dips below the horizon just a touch when I step onto the front porch of the estate and watch the black Bentley Mulsanne drive up the cobblestone circular drive. Stefan parks, steps out, and then opens the back door for me.
I slide into the leather backseat, placing my phone on the center console. “Take me to Let Them Eat Cake.”
His blue eyes meet mine, but he doesn’t question. “Yes, sir.”
He pulls away from the oversized mansion.
My grandfather had great taste. I have better. I like the finer things life has to offer. Some may call me pretentious, but I don’t like to put a label on things.
When we arrive, of course, she’s not there. Everything has to be as difficult as possible when it comes to her.
“She’s at the Henderson/Miller wedding across town at the Hilton. Delivering their cake,” the older woman behind the counter informs me with curiosity in her dark eyes. “Are you wanting to order a wedding cake? Clementine is my best. I’m the owner, Dena.”
“Yes, I guess I’ll be needing one.” I smile, doubting Clementine will want to make ours. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch with her.”
Much sooner than she thinks. Dena gives me a business card, and when I re-enter the car, I let Stefan know wherever this Henderson/Miller thing is, that’s where I need to be. He nods and pulls away from the small store, heading in the direction of downtown.
Twenty minutes later, he pulls up in front of the Hilton, and I step out.
“Wait here,” I direct Stefan, clutching the contract in my hand. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Just inside the glass doors that open to the lobby, there’s a small stand with an arrow pointing the way toward the wedding. Ignoring the stares thrown my way, I head across the marble floor hall with quick strides to a wide hallway with another directional sign to the nuptials of people I don't know.
When I open the ballroom doors, all eyes are on me, but not for the same reasons they usually are.
At the other side of the large space is the bride and groom, standing under an arched white trellis.
The preacher stares at me. “Sir, do you have any just cause why these two should not be married here today?”
Shit.
“No, carry on.”
I step back through the ballroom door as a hand wraps around my bicep, leading me out. “What are you doing here?”
I look down at a frowning Clementine. Her face is a complete juxtaposition to her cheerful lemon yellow dress.
“I brought you something.”
I hold out the manila envelope, trying not to gawk at the way her breasts fill out the silky fabric hugging them.
Instead of her gold eyes lighting up, they darken and narrow. Almost like she doesn’t trust me. And why should she? She doesn’t know me.
“What is it?” She glances down at the papers in my hand. “More contracts?”
I smile, stepping closer. “Is that any way to treat your fiance?” I hand over the manila envelope. “It’s your sex contract.”
She closes her eyes, breathing through her nose. “You shouldn’t have brought this to my work, Gabriel.”
