Текст книги "At Last"
Автор книги: Whitney Gracia Williams
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
I tried to move out of his lap, but he held me still and kissed my lips.
“I’ll never get enough of you.” He caressed my back with his hands. “You have no idea how much you mean to me...”
“I do...I feel the same way about—” My sentence was interrupted with a hot and passionate kiss. When he finally pulled away from me, I tried to finish what I was going to say but he kissed me until I completely forgot.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed with us sitting like that, but the next thing I felt was him slowly moving himself out of me and repositioning me in his lap.
“I feel like we’ve done everything...” I murmured.
“Everything?”
“In regards to sex...”
“No, not everything.” He cupped my ass and squeezed it, trailing one finger between my cheeks. “But I figured we should save something for the honeymoon.”
My eyes widened in shock.
“I can also think of several other places where I’d love to fuck you.”
“You should make a list.”
“I will.” He gently eased me out of his lap.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”
“To the only notary I trust.” He stood and picked my dress up from the floor. “He wasn’t able to charter a jet on short notice so we’re going to him in L.A.”
“Why do we need to see a notary?”
“Because you didn’t sign the papers I sent to your office.”
I sighed.
He’d sent me a sealed box of property deeds, yacht ownership records, and several investment portfolios at the beginning of the week. He’d had them delivered via two of his security guards with a handwritten note: “I want to share everything I own with you, before we’re married—Jonathan.”
“Why are you in such a rush?” I asked.
“Why are you not?”
“Because I’m being practical. Don’t you think it makes more sense to wait until I actually have your last name before I co-own everything you’ve worked so hard to get?”
“Not unless you plan on backing out of marrying me.” His voice was firm. “Since you decided not to sign the papers when I told you to—when my bank was willing to look the other way, we both need a separate set of witnesses and a notary for each set of contracts.”
Oh... “I’m sorry...I didn’t know that was why you did that.”
“And the second we’re done signing all these fucking contracts, we’re going to make a stop at a hotel.”
“We’re spending the night in L.A?”
“Yes. With our wedding planner.”
“What? I thought we were meeting with her next week. I still need to look through a few magazines and catalogues to make sure I have everything I want.”
“We’re doing it now, Claire. Right. Now. I feel like you’re delaying this, and if that’s the case I need to know why.” He looked as if he was waiting for me to say something, but I shook my head. “If it’s not the case, I need to know that you’re as serious as I am about getting married.” He pulled me close to his chest. “You can still meet with her next week to fine tune all the small details, but I want the date and the venue set tonight.”
“I am very serious about marrying you, Jonathan...”
“Prove it.”
“Okay, let me get this straight...” Our wedding planner paced our hotel suite tapping her lip.
Her name was Paris Corwin and she was the top wedding planner in the country. She’d worked with hundreds of celebrities, superstar athletes, and had even been an advisor for the royal wedding overseas.
Impeccably dressed in a dark gray suit and creamy colored blouse, she was wearing her brown hair in an asymmetrical bob that loosely framed her heart shaped face.
“You want the ceremony to be outdoors facing the ocean, but you don’t want it to be within miles of anywhere that’s accessible to the public?” She looked at me. “And you also don’t want it to be on a beach?”
“Right.”
“And you want the reception to be in an indoor facility that’s within walking distance from the ceremony space, but it has to have glass ceilings?”
“Correct.”
She took off her glasses and rubbed her forehead. “It also has to be in San Francisco?”
Jonathan spoke up. “We would prefer that.”
“Okay, well...I’m just going to be honest with you two. You may have to concede on a few things if you want to have it there.”
“A few things like what?” I raised my eyebrow. I’d been envisioning my wedding every night and I didn’t want to give up any of my preferences.
“Well...” She walked over to the projector screen she’d set up on the other side of the room. She dimmed the lights and clicked her mini remote. “This is a picture of The Shores Resort. It is a beachfront resort, but they have a huge ballroom with glass ceilings.”
She clicked again and another picture appeared onscreen. “This is La Santa Maria resort. It has a beautiful outdoor area that’s near the beach, but instead of sand there’s grass—which is what you want, but the ballroom does not feature glass ceilings. It does have floor to ceiling glass walls though, and those walls are twenty feet high.”
One of her team members walked over and handed me a white binder.
“Inside that binder, you’ll find similar resorts that are just as grand.” Miss Corwin said. “They’re just as pricey, but they’re only missing one of the things that you’re looking for.”
“Do they all have the grand steps for the reception?” I looked at Jonathan. “I want to enter the reception by walking down the steps, right before our first dance.”
“All the pages with the pink tabs have grand steps. The others have standard steps.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “Let me look...” I opened the binder and flipped through the pages relatively quick. All the venues were beautiful but they didn’t have everything I wanted, everything I’d dreamed of.
“What about this one?” Jonathan pointed at a page that featured a historic castle near the beach. It was gorgeous: Sun drenched stones, grand marble steps, but the ballroom didn’t have a glass ceiling and the outdoor area for the ceremony had more dirt than grass.
I shook my head and shut the binder. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t what I want...I don’t want to concede anything. If we move it to another city will our options be better?”
“Yes, Miss Gracen. They actually would. Let me show you those options.” She took a flash-drive out of her pocket and placed it into her laptop. “Let’s start with Los Angeles.”
“Miss Corwin.” Jonathan cut her off. “You have a full staff of architects on your staff, correct?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll make sure that the gazebo you both want is constructed to perfection.”
“Actually...” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “I want you to build my fiancée’s dream wedding venue from the ground up. Give her whatever she wants.”
There was silence.
Ear deafening silence.
Everyone’s eyes widened—including mine, and all her staff members’ faces went white.
I looked over at him in shock, whispering, “No, that’s insane. You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s just like buying a car. It’s nothing.” He kissed me and turned his attention to Miss Corwin again. “You have a week to find a purchasable location site in San Fran, but I want the proposed budget on my desk by Monday and a list of all the building permits you’ll need. How long do you think construction will take?”
She blinked.
“It would take about eight to ten weeks once the permits cleared sir.” One of her staff members spoke up. “We’d probably have to bring on another company to help, but depending on the height of the building, we’d also need a zoning clearance from the city. That takes months to get—sometimes years.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t seem fazed. “What’s next?”
“Um, well...” Miss Corwin slowly regained her composure. “We um...We need to discuss the more intricate aspects now...What color scheme did you have in mind for your special day?”
Jonathan looked over at me.
“I...” I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he was having my dream venue custom built. “I was thinking angel white and champagne as the main colors—with hints of blush pink, ivory, and pastel yellow throughout. Nothing too heavy though; maybe a pop of color in the petals down the aisle or in the decorations at dinner, but not enough that it’ll take over the main colors.”
“That sounds beautiful, Miss Gracen.” She nodded. “We can fine tune the smaller things next week, but just so I have an idea about the bridal party numbers...” She clicked her pen. “Who is your maid of honor?”
“I have two. My daughters, Ashley and Caroline.”
“And how many bridesmaids will you have?”
“Three—my best friends Sandra and Helen, and his sister Hayley.”
“Thank you...” She scribbled their names down. “Mr. Statham, who is the best man and how many groomsmen will you have?”
“Corey Walters is the best man. I’ll have two groomsmen.”
“Very well. I’ll bring samples of your color choices next week. Oh, and while I’m searching for a place to build your venue, could you keep me informed about the status of your dress? I always like to match some of the floral arrangements to the theme of the bride’s attire if possible.”
“You’ve already bought your dress, correct?” Jonathan squeezed my hand.
“Not yet. I’m going shopping for it this weekend with my mom.”
He raised his eyebrow, but Miss Corwin kept talking. “I assume we’re going with black tuxedos for the groomsmen, Mr. Statham?”
“Yes.”
“Great! Well, since I have to find a place to build your venue, if you two don’t have any questions for me...” She looked back and forth between us, waiting for us to say something. “I’ll have the proposed budget for you on Monday, Mr. Statham. And Miss Gracen I look forward to seeing you again later.”
We both stood up and shook her hand, thanking all of her team members for having us on such short notice.
I helped them pack their binders and posters away and traveled with them down to the lobby.
“Wait here.” Jonathan said to me as he escorted them outside to the waiting limo he’d ordered.
As soon as the car pulled off, he walked up to me and pulled me into his arms. “Please tell me you were just being coy with her about your wedding dress.”
“Coy?”
“Is it hideous? Show me a picture of it and I’ll let you know my thoughts.”
“No...” I rolled my eyes. “I honestly don’t have it yet. I’m going shopping for it this weekend.”
“You told me you started shopping for your dress last weekend.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes. You did.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “That’s the reason why you came home late last Friday.” He pulled his phone out and scrolled through his texts. “Friday. Five forty eight pm: Jonathan, I’m going to be late for dinner tonight. I scheduled a late appointment with a dress boutique at six. I promise I’ll make it up to you—Claire.” He raised his eyebrow in anticipation of an answer.
“Okay...I did have an appointment, but it wasn’t at a dress shop.”
“You lied to me?”
“I couldn’t tell you what it was for because it’s...It’s for our anniversary.”
“So, you lied to me?” He pulled me even closer.
“Jonathan, it was a consultation appointment. After our anniversary, I’ll be happy to show you the timestamp on my receipt so you can see that I wasn’t lying to you. I did have something scheduled.”
He blinked. Then he stared into my eyes for a long time—not saying anything at all.
“Am I supposed to be staring back at you right now? Are we playing a game of some type?” I smirked. “First one to blink actually acts like an adult for the rest of the night?”
“Yes, future wife...” He tightened his grip around my waist. “We are going to play a game. It’s called, Jonathan is going to teach Claire a very strenuous lesson about lying to him...”
Chapter 6
Claire
I stood still in the center of a platform, trying my hardest not to roll my eyes. I was at a bridal boutique, patiently counting down the minutes until Greg drove me back home.
The dress I was trying on had been selected by my mother, so I was sure it looked terrible, but I’d appeased her and tried it on anyway.
“Please don’t drive Jonathan away like you did last year.” She zipped up the gown. “I almost smacked you for that. I ought to slap you right now for insurance, to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
I rolled my eyes and looked at myself in the mirror. “That was over eight months ago.”
“I don’t care how long ago it was. If I had a hot, sexy billionaire chasing me like he chased you, I would have given in the moment he asked me out. Hell, I probably would have slept with him the first night too.”
“Thank you, mother.” I shook my head and frowned at the dress’ neckline. “I’ll be sure to give that same advice to Ashley and Caroline one day...Anyway, I’m not sure if I like this dress. I don’t think he’ll like it either. There’s way too much beading across the top.”
There was actually way too much of everything on the dress. It covered every inch of me from the neck down; it had laced sleeves, a pleated waist, and enough beading for a kindergarten class to be entertained for a week.
“Well, I think it looks traditional,” she said. “You can never go wrong with traditional. I’m sure Jonathan will appreciate you in something like this.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Helen walked inside the room and immediately shooed my mother away. “No disrespect, Ms. Gracen, but we’ll only be trying on dresses that were sewn in this century—preferably this decade.”
My mother huffed and headed back out into the boutique. As soon as she was gone, Helen placed a few new gowns against the rack.
I flipped one of the price tags over and held back a gasp: Seventy eight thousand dollars.
I knew Jonathan didn’t care how much my dress would cost, but every dress in this store was a bit extreme.
“Are you excited?” Helen helped me out of the atrocity.
“I am.” I couldn’t help but smile. I went to sleep dreaming about our wedding every night.
“That’s good. You should be. And to celebrate this “tying yourself down” mess, I’m throwing you one hell of a bachelorette party. I’m almost done with the details, so if there are any people you want to invite, let me know. Make sure you tell them that everything is on me.”
“Oh, no.” I pulled the dress over my head. “That’s okay. I don’t really...”
“You don’t really what?”
“I don’t think I want a bachelorette party. I’d rather spend that time with Jonathan... I’ll be happy without one.”
“Claire...” She clutched her chest. “You are about to get married, which means that for the rest of your life—the rest of your life, you’re only going to be able to experience one dick. One. Dick.”
“Helen—”
“Do you know how depressing that is? Do you remember that day you told all of us that he proposed to you—the day you saw my tears? I wasn’t crying because I was happy. I was crying because I truly felt bad for you. I don’t care how good a man is in bed—that’s not enough to make me want to sleep with him for the rest of my life.”
“Are you going to be making a point any time soon?”
“I’m throwing you the most epic bachelorette party of all time, regardless of your fiancée’s ridiculous warnings.”
“He warned you?”
“He did.” She smiled. “He also sent me an email with some bullshit guidelines that he wants me to follow—something about not letting your party get too raunchy or over the top. He doesn’t want more than five men there, and he doesn’t want any man to get within three feet of you.” She rolled her eyes. “But guess what? It will be raunchy. It will be over the top. There will be dicks everywhere, and goddamnit Claire you will fucking love it. Now, turn around so I can help you into the next dress.”
I turned around and shook my head.
Over the next few hours, I tried on dress after dress, but I didn’t fall in love with any of them. They were either way too simple or way too decorative. What’s more was that every time I tried on a dress, Helen and my mother critiqued it as if I wasn’t standing in the room. Then they would argue over who had better taste.
“Have you tried looking in our gallery room, Mrs. Statham? I mean, Miss Gracen.” An attendant took a dress off a hanger. “All the dresses in that room are one of a kind.”
“I haven’t.” I sighed. “What’s the price range?”
“Very affordable. They start at ninety thousand dollars.”
Ninety thousand dollars?!
I wanted to decline, but Helen and my mother were arguing over veils, so I followed the woman out of my suite and into an all-white room.
There were only two racks of dresses, but they extended from wall to wall. It seemed like they were organized by size, because there was no way of telling what each dress looked like; they were all covered in sheer silver bags with pink tags hanging from their sides.
The attendant circled me with measuring tape, stretching it across my shoulders and my breasts, briefly holding it around my hips.
“What type of dress do you love to wear on a regular day?” she asked. “A day when you’re only going to be running a few errands?”
“It’s usually something simple: solid color, basic shape, and a V-neckline.”
“I see...And how about when you go out on a date?”
“It depends...”
“Well, how about your last date? What type of dress did you wear? And where was it if you don’t mind me asking.”
I blushed just thinking about me and Jonathan’s last date. “It was at a vineyard. Nude colored lace dress with a low cut in the front.”
“Right. And you previously mentioned that you prefer the toned down organza skirt, sweetheart neckline, and corset bodice so...” She thumbed through a few hangers and pulled out a dress. “This is your wedding gown. Guarantee it.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I’m the best.” She smiled and led me back to my fitting room. “Let me know how it works for you.”
I honestly didn’t want to try it on, but I slipped back into my suite and walked right between Helen and my mother. “Could you two help me into this last one please? Then we can all get drinks before we head back.”
“What about the shopping spree?” My mother frowned. “Jonathan promised me I could get whatever I wanted. Don’t you have his credit card with you?”
“Yes...” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll just have Greg pick you up tomorrow and bring you back.”
I stood still as she and Helen took their time helping me into the long, silk dress. I didn’t bother looking in the mirror as they tugged and smoothed every inch of it. I just wanted to get this over with and go home.
I expected them to start arguing over whether they liked it or not, but they were both staring at me in stunned silence.
“Is it that bad or that good?” I asked.
“It’s absolutely perfect.” Helen’s eyes lit up. “You look beyond beautiful, Claire...”
“Would you like to put on the matching veil?” My mother’s eyes were filled with tears.
I nodded and stooped down so they could pull my hair into a knot and guide the veil’s comb onto my head.
“Don’t look yet.” Helen smiled. “Let me ask the attendants for some jewelry.”
I waited until she returned and tried to be as still as possible as she fastened a Harry Winston wreath around my neck. I tried to sneak a peek of myself, but my mother held my head still and secured a pair of diamond earrings onto my ears.
They led me into the main room, where the largest mirror was, and helped me onto another platform. As they stepped back, I could see tears falling down their faces.
Out the corner of my eye, I spotted the shop’s attendants whispering and nodding their heads in approval.
I couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. “Can I turn around and look in the mirror now?”
“Yes.” They said in unison.
I slowly spun around and sucked in a breath once I saw my reflection.
Oh my god...
The dress was flawless. Utter perfection.
It was a strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline, a neckline that was embellished with a thin line of sparkling white and silver crystals. The top of the dress fit like a vintage corset and gave way to a long skirt of beautiful organza waves that flowed from my hips to my toes—into a long train that draped off the platform.
The veil was simple, but stunning. It had light, lace accents around its edges and its’ ends grazed my lower back.
I twirled around and looked over my shoulder, noticing that the jewelry I was wearing perfectly complemented the shimmering beads in the veil’s comb.
I didn’t want to cry, but the tears had already begun to fall down my face. Everything suddenly felt more real now; I was actually getting married.
“This is it.” There was a lump in my throat. “This is the dress I want.”
All of the attendants clapped, and the manager walked over and handed each of us a glass of chilled champagne.
“Congratulations, Miss Gracen,” she said. “I’ll bring out our seamstress to check for any necessary alterations.”
“Just to be clear, these aren’t really tears in my eyes.” Helen stepped onto the platform and hugged me. “This moment never happened.”
I held back a laugh and nodded.
“I can’t get over how beautiful you look, Claire. You’re gorgeous...” My mother dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex. “He’s not going to be able to look away from you once you walk down that aisle.” She put her hand over her chest and cried. “Please don’t fuck this up!”
I smiled as Jonathan’s newest set of flowers were rolled into my office the next day. They were a collection of white, pink, and yellow tulips, with wild orchids evenly placed in between them.
I took the envelope that was on top and sliced it open:
Five Places Where I’d Love to Fuck You
5. At a crowded concert
4. In a packed movie theater
3. In our bathroom’s sauna
2. On the hood of my Bugatti
1. On my boardroom table...
Call me as soon as your last meeting is over.
Love,
Your Future Husband
I laughed and slipped the note into my pocket. “You can send my ten o’ clock back now, Rita.” I buzzed the intercom.
I walked over to my door and opened it, expecting to see an elderly man and his wife but instead—Ryan?!
“You never struck me as the domestic type, Claire.” He took off his hat and walked right past me. “But I guess when you’re engaged to a billionaire your priorities change. Interior design? Really?” He scoffed. “I bet I can guess what the other “C” in C & C’s Charming Designs means.”
“Do you not understand ‘get the fuck out’ and ‘I don’t want you here’? Or did putting your dick in Amanda over the years cause you to lose some of your hearing?”
“You always were a smartass. I loved that about you.”
“Clearly not enough. Get the fuck out.”
He sighed. “Do you know how hard it is to adjust to a new city? How much harder it is when you’re being watched and followed by security guards everywhere you go?” He shook his head. “Are you that threatened by me?”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
“I’ll leave.” He walked towards me. “But we need to talk first. Sit down.”
“I’ll sit down after you leave.”
“You can’t give me five seconds?”
“I’ve given you more than that already.” I walked over to my door and opened it. “Besides, I don’t speak asshole. I never could master that language.”
“You owe me this, Claire. Just please, listen. Out of respect for how you used to feel about me...Out respect for one of our old promises: You never forget your first.”
“Unless he knocks up your best friend. People never read the fine print on that one.”
“Claire...”
“Mr. Hayes.” Greg was suddenly standing next to me. “It would be best if you didn’t utter another word to Miss Gracen. You are not welcome on this property.”
Ryan’s eyes dimmed and he shook his head, looking at me as if he was hurt.
What the hell is wrong with him?!
“You have five seconds to walk out of this door, Mr. Hayes.” Greg narrowed his eyes and Ryan walked out of the office, looking back at me as two other security guards escorted him out.
“I’ve notified Mr. Statham about the intrusion.” He sounded disappointed. “Mr. Hayes slipped by our watch today and managed to take a cab here. My sincerest apologies, Miss Gracen. It won’t happen again. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” I lied.
I hated Ryan with every ounce of my being, but I’d seen that pained look from him twice before, back when we were married: Once, when we were being evicted out of our first apartment because we hadn’t paid the rent in three months. And again when I went into labor with Ashley and Caroline four weeks early.
It’s definitely something serious...
“Miss Gracen?” Greg snapped me out of my trance.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Statham asked if he needs to come by now.” He was holding his phone up to his ear. “He wants to know if you want to be taken home early because of this.”
I shook my head. “No, tell him I’m okay. I’ll go to his office after my three o’ clock.”
He nodded and repeated my message to Jonathan before leaving me alone.
Sighing, I walked over to my desk and sank into the chair. I shook my head, hoping that would remove any thoughts of Ryan from my head, but then I spotted a white envelope on my desk. Something that wasn’t there before.
I grabbed it and realized that Ryan had probably placed it there before he was escorted out. I knew that I shouldn’t open it, that I should simply shred it and go about my day, but I was curious:
Claire,
I’ve been sending you photos and letters every day, but last night I realized that you probably haven’t received any of them. So, I thought I would personally drop this one off.
I’m not here to cause any trouble in your new life—which seems to be quite wonderful by the way...
I moved here six months ago with Amanda and I decided not to tell the girls so I could have the opportunity to talk to you without you shutting down but...It seems as if you’ve already done that.
I would like to speak with you over coffee. You can tell me which shop, and I swear I’ll only use a few minutes of your time. (Do you honestly think I would be going through all this trouble if what I had to say wasn’t important? IT IS.)
Please call me so we can meet up with each-other.
Your first,
Ryan
PS—You always were beautiful, but you look fucking amazing now :-)
PSS—I know a part of you still loves me...
