At the Billionaire’s Wedding (55 page)

“Me too,” he said, replying to the thoughts in her head. Then he started the car and they were off to the wedding rehearsal—and, apparently, disaster.

Scheming with the bride and groom

A short while later, Roxanna and Damien breezed into the small sitting room at Brampton house and encountered a tense scene with the wedding planner, Arwen, the owner of the place, Harry, and the bride and groom.

“What did we miss?” Roxanna asked.

“There is a paparazzo lurking on the grounds and we can’t get rid of him. But Arwen and Harry have a plan so that he spies on the wrong wedding,” Jane explained.

“Well, that sounds like one of your books,” Roxanna said, taking a seat on the couch.

“I know. God forbid anyone gets married and it’s easy,” Duke grumbled.

“The happily-ever-after is sweeter when there are obstacles,” Jane said. Presently, no one shared her romanticism. There were more practical matters to consider.

“We’re planning a second, decoy wedding,” Arwen told them.

“Naturally,” Roxanna replied.

“We can’t let Snooper get a picture of the real wedding; otherwise, the
People
magazine deal will be off. They’re already pissed about those hunting photos, and the ones on Jezebel,” Duke explained, with a dark look at Roxanna and Damien. Jane and Roxanna had the same reply.

“But the puppies! The kittens!”

The mood in the room was tense, in spite of Jane’s efforts to keep things cheerful. Something wasn’t adding up. Damien knew what it was, but there was no way in hell he would say it. A few days ago, he would have without a second thought. But things had changed now. He slipped his hand over Roxanna’s.

“What about Damien’s … deal?” Roxanna asked. “If Snooper gets pictures and runs them in the
Daily Post
and everyone thinks they’re real, Damien will be screwed. Once the
People
magazine pictures run, they’ll know ours were fake. Oh no!”

Roxanna looked up at him, eyes full of concern. His heart slammed in his chest. He knew what he had to do.

“It’s fine,” he said softly.

“What?” she exclaimed, not at all softly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jane and the others watching them avidly.

“If Snooper runs wedding pictures, the
People
deal will be off
and
you’ll lose your newspaper,” Roxanna exclaimed. There was a sharp intake of breath from someone, a gasp of shock. He could feel the intensity of Duke’s angry gaze. Roxanna looked around at everyone. “We all have an interest in keeping him out.”

“It’s fine,” he repeated. “If Snooper runs those fake pictures,
People
’s pictures will be much more valuable for being authentic,” Damien explained. “And I’ll deal with the
Daily Post
. Neither of us can win if we’ve both published fakes.” Then, clearing his throat, he added. “But for what it’s worth, I am prepared to lose
The London Weekly
. I will do whatever I can to help with the decoy wedding and to preserve the privacy of the real wedding.”

“But…”

“I have figured out what matters more,” he said, gazing into Roxanna’s eyes and squeezing her hand.

“Oh,” Jane sighed, dabbing at her teary eyes with a tissue. “It’s so romantic.”

At the rehearsal dinner

For the rehearsal dinner in the State Dining Room, Roxanna put on another sexy dress that Damien wanted to strip off, to reveal the even sexier lingerie underneath, which he also wanted to strip off to reveal the sexiest thing of all: that girl, her bare skin, in his bed.

But what he felt for her was not just lust.

He suspected there were very few women to whom he could admit being scared … and even fewer who would respond perfectly, as Roxanna had done. They were not emotional, demonstrative people. That didn’t mean they didn’t feel deeply.

He had never really felt this deeply before, to be honest. And now…

As he said, he was scared. He was scared of the intensity of his feelings for her. Scared that he might lose his family’s prized possession, yet resolute in putting Roxanna and her friends first. He had been a presumptuous idiot to make that wager. And who knew—perhaps he could win or buy it back. Perhaps if they both published fakes, the wager could be deemed a draw. He’d worry about it later. But he now knew what was most important.

But Damien had not been raised to sulk with his feelings. Men in his family put on their suits and strolled out as if they owned the world.

So he did, with one gorgeous redhead on his arm.

They were more affectionate and demonstrative than usual that evening. It was as if the wedding was affecting them. Or now that he’d started to acknowledge the intensity of his feelings for her, he couldn’t help but express them with a kiss on her cheek, his palm on her lower back, or a suggestive gaze and wicked smile.

Did the other guests notice? He didn’t care.

Damien was thinking seriously romantic thoughts when Roxanna stood up to make a speech. He was glad to have this time to just gaze at her and appreciate how hot she looked in that black dress. He was lucky to have this glimpse into her heart and mind. And, frankly, he was damned curious to hear what she, a woman of more sass than sap, had to say in a speech at a wedding rehearsal dinner.

“Hello everyone,” Roxanna started. “Jane asked me to say a few words, which is a request she is going to regret in a few minutes.”

Everyone laughed, including the bride.

“I first met Jane when she propositioned me on the Internet,” Roxanna began. “Craigslist, to be specific. I was looking for a roommate who wouldn’t stiff me on rent or murder me in my sleep, so I was incredibly lucky to find Jane, who is the kindest, nicest, most trustworthy girl I know. We’re an unlikely couple, but we hit it off right away. Fortunately for me, she made sure that all our bills were paid and that I didn’t subsist exclusively on bourbon and popcorn, which is the only thing I know how to cook.”

That didn’t surprise him in the slightest, knowing her as he did. But why didn’t he know that about her? They would have to hire a chef when they moved in together or got married.

He straightened in his chair. Where had
that
thought come from?

He braced himself for the wave of discomfort that would come from even considering sharing his flat with a woman, or binding himself for life to another person. It didn’t come. So they would have a chef. He certainly wasn’t going to cook—he couldn’t—and a chef was an expense he could afford.

“Jane has been a terrific friend and has taken such great care of me,” she continued. “Which is why I decided to return the favor by announcing her engagement to Duke. Before they even met. I have been forbidden, upon pain of death, from telling any more of
that
story. Sorry, kids.”

Everyone in the crowd laughed and called out demands for that story.

“While I have given her romance a little nudge forward, she’s also done the same for me. Living with a romance novelist will make you start believing in all this romance stuff.”

She paused to take a long sip of champagne, which made him grin.
All this romance stuff.
He wanted to share in
all this romance
stuff with her.

“When she asked me to read her first book, I did it as a friend. And I should point out that by
ask
, I mean that I might have taken a printed version of the manuscript off her desk without permission. Because really, there are only so many reruns of the Kardashians a girl can watch. But as I read the love stories she wrote and watched her own love story unfold, Jane kind of sort of maybe made me believe in love.”

“That’s her equivalent of shouting her undying everlasting love from the rooftops, by the way,” Jane added, to everyone’s amusement.

“Or maybe I’ve been reading too many of her novels about haughty, devastatingly sexy, undeniably romantic English lords,” Roxanna said with a wink at him.

“Hey, I thought those books were about me,” Duke interjected.

No, she’s talking about me
, Damien thought.

“So I’d like to propose a toast, because after being so publicly emotional I’m just dying for a drink. Here’s to Jane, and Duke, and romance when we least expect it, and being smart enough and openhearted enough to realize a good thing when it’s announced on Facebook. Or … whatever. Wherever. To Jane, Duke, and happily ever after!”

Damien found her at the bar outside on the terrace shortly after the speeches concluded. She was sipping champagne and looking impossibly gorgeous. But now he saw the vulnerability there. She kept it hidden behind a mass of red hair, a bold stare, and a willingness to say anything—so long as she didn’t have to talk about her innermost feelings.

“Nice speech,” he said, leaning against the bar next to her.

“Nice speech?” she echoed. “That’s all?”

“Are you asking me to talk about my feelings?”

“I know. I met your mother this afternoon. One shouldn’t ask for too much in one day.”

She said it flippantly. But he was feeling honest and straightforward and like speaking from—he cringed, but couldn’t deny the truth—his heart.

“Roxanna, if anyone else said that, I would think that it was a nervous way of not wanting to ask for too much. But with you, I think you get me. Us. We are not Hallmark people. We cannot meet one another’s parents and engage in a heart-to-heart conversation all in one day.”

“It’d be too much.”

“For the record, I think your speech might top an introduction to my mother,” he said. He still wasn’t sure he had processed all the feelings—yes, feelings—he had experienced watching her, listening to her be so emotional and honest in front of a room full of strangers.

“Are we competing over who can demonstrate their feelings the most?” Her eyes lit up. His girl did love competition.

“Some would say that’s a bad thing,” he murmured. “But perhaps not for us.”

“Us,” she echoed softly. And then, with a coy smile, she added, “So we’re a thing?”

“We are definitely something,” Damien confirmed, gazing down at her. He’d never meant words more.

To that they clinked their champagne glasses together and took a small sip.

“Let’s get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said. A moment later, she added, “I’ve always wanted to say that, BTW.”

He laughed and what he said next came easily. “I love you.”

“Well, you sure know how to make a girl feel special,” she replied in her Roxanna way. But then she stood on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear, “I love you too.”

Hand in hand, they left the dining room and strolled out to the gardens, away from the party. After a while, they slowly began making their way back to the house. They took the long way, enjoying the warm summer night, and holding hands, and the fact that they were A Thing now and it hadn’t taken a long, awkward and emotional conversation. It hadn’t been a big deal at all. It just
was
.

When they’d had enough of the romantic moonlit stroll, they proceeded at a brisk, New Yorker pace back to their bedroom.

Once inside, he pulled her into his arms for a kiss.

“About that dress…” he started.

“This dress?”

“Off. I beg of you.”

The dress was off in a moment, a bunch of silk fluttering to the floor at her feet. She wore sexy lingerie—something with scraps of black lace and satin—and some killer heels.

“That’s much better,” he said, with an appreciative gaze. “Or much worse. I am tortured.”

“You are far too clothed.”

She started to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt as he shrugged his jacket off.

They could hear some of the music from the rehearsal reception filtering in through the open window. The only other sounds were of rushed, deep breaths or of various articles of clothing being removed and dropped to the floor. He kissed her deeply, as if he could not ever have enough—even though after this evening he knew she wouldn’t be scarce. She kissed him back with all her fiery passion.

They were a tangle of limbs, kissing, stepping, stumbling, and more kissing across the hotel room until they finally collapsed on the bed.