Page 27 of Wedding Contract
“I ended up spending more money than I planned on.” She bites her lip in genuine distress.
I circle her until I can see how beautifully the crystals ride the jut of her ass. “Whatever you paid, it wasn’t enough, but you are missing something.”
“What?” She twists herself, trying to look over her shoulder and see whatever it is that I’m seeing. “Did the crystals fall off? I was scared that would happen, but Freddie, that’s the designer, assured me the crystals are secure.”
“No, darling, you need jewelry.” I slide my hands over her shoulders and circle her neck.
She inhales swiftly and stills. I bend down and kiss the bare skin. A gentle nudge and the swath of fabric on her shoulder falls to the arm. Goosebumps pebble her flesh. I chase the visible sign of her excitement across her shoulder, over the apple of her joint, and down her arm until the fabric stops my progress.
“We—” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat. “We should get going or we’ll be late.”
I force myself to let go and step back. A full erection makes movement a little difficult, but I manage to make it to the living room sofa where I had tossed my tuxedo jacket when I arrived. I reach into the interior pocket and pull out a small case. Her eyes widen when I pop it open.
“Your designer friend suggested just long earrings since a necklace would compete with the gown. I bought these today.”
Her hands shake as she lifts one long strand of diamonds off the velvet. The jewelry is simple. Just five cascading strands of round cut diamonds that brush the top of her bare shoulders.
“These are so beautiful, and I’m scared I’m going to lose them.”
“They’re insured.” I harden again. We need to leave before I embarrass myself. I grab my jacket and her little silver purse shaped like a rabbit and usher her out the door. I give her a rundown of the people we are about to meet.
“Clarice is a good egg. She’s run this charity since she was sixteen when her mom died of cancer. Her dad was the initial donor, and it’s grown from there. This year’s the tenth year. Most of the people she invites are just folks with money, whichmeans a lot of them are overbearing. We’ll go in, say hi to Clarice, face the lions, and then dip.” I bring her cold hand to my lips. “Don’t worry, though. Everyone will love you.”
“If you let go of my hand, I’m revoking your apartment access,” Belle warns.
“Be prepared to go to the men’s room with me.” I raise our clasped hands between us.
“You think I’m joking, but I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
There’s a surprise for us at the entry. Belle’s two sisters are there, arguing with the staff at the entry.
“This is an authentic invite. Look at it under your special UV light. That’s where you’ll see the mark of authenticity.” The older sister is speaking. I can’t remember her name.
“Quinn?” Belle’s confused.
The older girl spins toward us, her unhappy face creasing at the forehead. “Belle? What are you doing here?”
I step forward, positioning myself slightly in front of Belle. “We’re attending the party.”
“You two fakes?” Quinn rolls her eyes. “I guess that’s why you’re so strict.” She addresses this to the staff. “But we’re real guests, and they’re not. You don’t even have to look at their invitation. I can tell you that.”
“Ma’am, you’ll need to step to the side. This piece of paper is not the entrance ticket. It’s just a notice of the event.”
“The instructions on how to get your ticket are on the back,” I interject helpfully. “If you did it right, you’d end up with one of these.” I produce two small squares of Irish linen with the gold Bien brand, only this time the emblem is larger.
The staff member takes the squares and places them on the scale behind him. The readout says two ounces, one for each invite.
He unclips the velvet rope and steps aside. Over my shoulder, I say, “Maybe if you offer to donate enough money, they will let you through.”
The fury on the two girls’ faces puts a smile on my lips. Belle’s too sweet to be amused, though.
“What was that?” Belle asks when we’re clear of the doorway.
“Bien is a sponsor of the event. We’re donating one ounce of gold for each attendee. All they had to do was come to one of the stores and trade their paper invitation for the cloth with the Bien emblem. The act brought people to the stores, and we donate to a good cause. Everyone wins.”
“Wick! You’re finally here.” Clarice comes running up to me. “Is this your new wife? I’m Clarice Singletary. I went to school with this miscreant for four years, did he tell you that?”
