The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake: Billionaires and Bridesmaids 4 (22 page)

“Suck me,” he murmured after a moment. “Take me in your mouth and suck.”

Oh, right. She’d gotten so distracted with the velvety texture of his skin and licking him that she’d forgotten about the other part of the blow job. Eager to please, she slid the length of him onto her tongue and closed her lips, sucking hard. His muttered expletive was exceedingly gratifying. She could do more.

She did; she took him deeper, working him with her mouth and her tongue until his shaft was stroking into her mouth as if he was fucking it. Most of the movement was hers, but she found that his hips were moving in subtle little motions as if it were impossible for him to stay still. She tried to take all of him into her mouth and down her throat a bit, but only succeeded in triggering her gag reflex. She released him with a cough. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. That’s fucking hot, sweetheart.”

Okay. She went back to lavishing attention on his cock, happy that her efforts were pleasing to him. Her tongue glided up and down his length, and she stroked him with her hand, trying to figure out the magic combination that would push him over the edge and make him come. Touching him like this was arousing to her, too. She wanted to do more than arouse him, though; she wanted to make him utterly crazy. What could she do? Her hand brushed over his balls, but she didn’t have enough experience to tell which touches there were the right kind, so she tried a different tactic.

Dirty talk.

After all, he liked it when he talked dirty to her and it made her all kinds of turned on. She figured it was the same for him.

So she traced her fingers over the head of his cock. “You’re so big and hard, Asher. I don’t think I can fit all of you in my mouth.” And she demonstrated by trying to deep throat him and failing. She returned to licking every inch of skin that she could. “Too thick. Too delicious.”

“Oh fuck, are you dirty talking to me, Greer?”

She dragged her tongue over the head of his cock. “Maybe?”

In the next moment, she was on the bed on her back, and he was between her legs. His body covered hers with a speed that was astounding. He gave her a fierce kiss and then thrust hard into her. Her smothered laugh turned into a cry of pleasure and she held on to him for dear life as he pounded away into her. A moment later, she’d come, raking her nails up and down his back and hissing out his name between her teeth. He came, too, but a lot noisier than her.

And then when he’d collapsed on top of her in that delicious way, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and then her neck. “Dirty talk. Hot damn. I love you, Greer.”

She said nothing, just stroked his back. She was pretty sure the words were nothing, just sweet utterances muttered after an orgasm.

But they were still nice to hear. And it made her even more resolved. Tomorrow, she was going to call her lawyer and fix things.

Because she was pretty sure she was in love with Asher. Again.

“Mr. Sprigham, please,” Greer said into the phone and shifted in her seat near the dressing room. “It’s Miss Chadha-Janssen and I need to discuss a contract with him quite urgently.”

“Everything all right?” Kiki called out.

“Just fine,” Greer told her. “Make sure that you’re pinned in all the right spots.”

They were back at the dressmaker, with Bunni, Tiffi, and Kiki being fitted one last time for their wedding gowns, since the wedding was tomorrow. They’d all three decided on the same gown—a bodice gown with a sweetheart neckline and sweeping satin skirts. The trains were dip-dyed a pale version of each girl’s signature color so the audience would know who was going down the aisle, the bodices were encrusted with rhinestones, and the bouquets would also match the color of the triplet. Kiki fidgeted with her veil and frowned in the mirror, gazing at Greer. More cold feet?

She didn’t have time to ask; a voice answered on the other end of the phone. “Sprigham speaking.”

“Richard? Hello, it’s Greer. Do you remember the parental rights contract we worked on a few weeks ago? I’ve changed my mind about it.”

To her surprise, the lawyer snorted into the phone.

Greer frowned. “Richard?”

“Sorry. Go on.” Why did he sound amused?

“I’ve just been having second thoughts. I don’t think it’s something I should force him into.”

“I see.”

Why did this conversation feel so bizarre? “I’d like for you to contact Mr. Sutton’s lawyer and see what we can do to cancel things. I do hope it won’t be an issue.”

“Oh, I can assure you that it won’t.” His dry tone was unmistakably snarky.

Greer had had enough. “All right, what’s going on?”

“Is this a joke, Miss Chadha-Janssen? I can’t imagine that it is, but I have to ask.”

“Why would it be a joke?”

“Because the entire thing’s been a clown show from the start.” Sprigham’s dry voice sounded more irritated than amused now. “First they had the nerve to send over that contract with all the holes in it. Big loopholes, I might add, and none in your favor.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, I fixed it because that’s my job. I ensured your end is ironclad and had the documents couriered over. They lost them. Twice. His office is either extremely incompetent or the courier is.” When she was silent, he continued. “I inquired about the contract last week and do you know what his lawyer suggested?”

Her stomach was twisting into worried knots. “No, what?”

“That I let him know how much I’d be willing to take to overlook a few clauses. Again, clauses not in your favor.”

She gasped.

“My thoughts exactly,” her lawyer said drily. “And when I said that what he was suggesting was illegal, he said I’d heard him wrong and the contract would be on my desk in a few days. Guess what.”

“It’s still not there?” She felt sick.

“Bingo.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means that whoever you are determined to keep from having parental rights from this baby is equally as determined to try and weasel their way out of things. And now you’re calling me and asking me to forget it? I just find that awfully convenient.”

She did, too. Her stomach clenched in misery. Something about this wasn’t adding up. Asher hadn’t mentioned anything with the contracts, and he was careful not to mention the baby . . . unless he was planning on doing something awful?

Surely not. This all had to be a misunderstanding.

“Let’s put it on a back burner for now,” she told Sprigham. “I’ll make a few calls and find out what’s going on.”

“Keep me posted.”

She hung up, staring at her phone. Asher’s latest text showed on the screen.

Asher: Hey, baby. Do you and my baby feel like having seafood tonight? I can make reservations at this sweet little place I think you’ll like. Let me know. I know you’re busy but I’m determined to kidnap you and practice my way with you. :)

That . . . did not sound like the text of a man about to screw her out of parental rights. She didn’t understand.

“It’s awful!” one of the triplets wailed, diverting her attention. Distracted, Greer looked up to see Bunni pouting at her reflection. Her breasts were overflowing the cups of the gown’s bodice. “I can’t go down the aisle looking like this!”

“Then you shouldn’t have been eating so much coconut ice cream,” Tiffi said, turning and admiring her butt in the mirror, oblivious to the dressmaker trying to pin things in place.

Greer tucked the phone into a pocket and got to her feet. Her own problems would have to wait a bit longer. “This is why we’re here,” she soothed the distraught bride. “So last minute things can be fixed. What if we added a ruffle of lace to the top?”

The dressmakers got to work and Greer didn’t get a chance to think about the lawyers or Asher for the rest of the afternoon. The girls insisted on last-minute changes to all three dresses and Greer ran interference between the triplets and the dressmakers, all of whom were stressed. By the time she got into the back of the Dutchman sedan with Kiki, she wanted nothing more than a hot bath and to be left alone.

The moment the car pulled up to the driveway, though, her phone buzzed with an incoming text. Asher again.

Asher: They must be keeping you hopping. How about I grab some takeout and head over there? Or do you want to meet here for more privacy? Let me know—I’ll wait on you.

Troubled, she thought about Sprigham’s words earlier. The contract Asher’s lawyer wanted her to sign was a terrible one, and now that they had modified it, the correct contract kept disappearing. And bribery? It was too much to be believed . . . except Asher’s strange little deal with her to spend time together for the next month to practice sex. It was clear the man didn’t need an ounce of practice, and she’d happily gone along with it because she thought she got what she wanted out of the situation.

In other words, him.

Something wasn’t adding up, though, and she couldn’t figure it out.

She didn’t text Asher back. Not yet. She needed to turn things over in her mind for a little longer, to mull on the situation. To come to a logical conclusion, because nothing so far seemed logical in the slightest.

Greer headed up the stairs to her room, and her phone buzzed yet again.

Vader: My office, please.

Her father? What now? Quelling the guilty feeling in her stomach—why did it feel like a trip to the principal’s office? She’d done nothing wrong—Greer turned around and headed back downstairs, to her father’s study.

He looked up as she entered, frowning. “Shut the door behind you.”

She did, and then sat down across from him. “Is everything all right?” Was he getting cold feet now, too?

Stijn narrowed his eyes at Greer. “I heard Bunni is too fat for her dress.”

Good lord. Was this what he was worried about? “We added a concealing ruffle to the top of her gown and she’s fine. This is why last minute alterations are necessary—”

“I hired you to keep things running smoothly, Greer. Why did you let one of my brides put on weight?”

Taken aback, she was silent. He . . . he wasn’t serious, was he? “She’s an adult,
Vader
. I didn’t watch what she ate. I assumed she was old enough to feed herself.”

“Well, you assumed incorrectly.” He flipped a page of one of the magazine proofs spread out on his desk. “Tell her to fast until the wedding.”

With so much going on? “I’m not sure that’s a good idea—”

He waved a hand. “We have the girls in the magazine do it all the time. If she wants to have a chance to marry me, she’ll fast.”

There was so much about that statement that bothered her. One thing in particular stuck out, though. “You haven’t decided which one you’re going to marry yet, Vader?”

The sound he made was derisive. “Does it matter?”

Well, she imagined it mattered quite a bit to the girls. “I think it does. Do you love them?”

He gave her a dismissive look. “As long as they’re not fucking that asshole best man, I don’t care what they do.”

Asshole best man? Asher? “You don’t like Asher? I don’t understand. Did you two have a falling out?”

“We never had a falling in.” He frowned at a proof and picked up a magnifying glass, leaning over the picture. Then, he offered it to Greer. “Do you think her labia should be photoshopped?”

Like she cared? “Why is Asher your best man if you hate him?”

Her father nudged the picture at her again. “This is important, Greer. What do you think of this woman’s genitals?”

She wasn’t going to get an answer until she gave him what he wanted, was she? She looked down at the picture. “She’s fine.”

“I think I’ll have them photoshopped anyhow, just to be safe.”

“Asher?”

Stijn turned another page.

“Asher?” Greer repeated. “Why is he your best man?”

Stijn glanced up at her briefly, then went back to the pictures. “It was part of our deal.”

“Your . . . deal? What deal?” What on earth was going on?

He put down the magnifying glass and gave her an exasperated look. “Greer, I’m very busy right now.”

She slapped a hand over the pictures, covering them. “Tell me what deal you had right now, or I’m walking out that door and not coming back.”

Stijn gave her a cold look and pried her fingers off the glossy page. “No need to be dramatic. We made a business deal, he and I. He is going to give
Dutchman
magazine an influx of cash and in exchange, I’m going to allow him to be my best man.”

That was . . . the most nonsensical thing she’d ever heard. “Why does he want to be your best man?”

“Ask him. The wedding was his idea.”

Alarm bells sounded somewhere in the back of her mind. “Wait . . . what? You didn’t want to get married?”

“If I didn’t want to marry your mother, why would I want to marry one of those interchangeable idiots?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” she stammered. “And they’re not—”

“Look. Greer.” Her father took on the patient tone that she’d heard him use when business dealings weren’t going his way. “Sutton offered me the money if I would put on a fake wedding for him. It’s been a great idea and we both get what we want.”

“And what is it you both want?” She wanted to hear him say it, to see if it sounded as terrible aloud as it did in her mind.

Stijn sat back in his chair. “I wanted to save
Dutchman
. It’s very difficult being a paper magazine in these digital times, Greer. I needed the money to make new investments, but I don’t even know if those will be necessary. The wedding with the girls has brought new attention to the company. As for what he wanted?” Her father shrugged. “I suppose he wanted to put on this ridiculous wedding so he’d have a chance to be close to you.”

It had been what she suspected, but hearing it said aloud somehow made it ten times worse.

Her father had zero respect for any of the three girls he was lining up to marry. Nor had he bothered to tell Greer that the wedding was a sham, and that she’d be working her ass off for nothing.
Not for nothing
, a cynical voice said in her mind.
You gave Asher exactly what he wanted.

She had. She’d eagerly jumped into his bed and now he was trying to get his hooks in her baby. And she was an idiot, because being around him for a few weeks and being romanced? She’d fallen for all of it.

The betrayal hurt, and it hurt worse than the time in the gardens because she’d let her guard down again. She’d known he’d hurt her in the past and she was still willing to give him another shot. To let him be the man she’d always wanted him to be. To prove to her that he could love her, because she wanted it so desperately.

Hot damn, I love you, Greer
. He’d whispered that to her just last night.

How could she trust anything he said? The lies were just cascading around her left and right. She got to her feet, feeling shaky.

“Tell Bunni I want her fasting starting now.” He picked up his magnifying glass and peered at the photo proofs again.

Greer stared down at her father. Did he not care that she’d been manipulated? That she’d been working night and day on the wedding that was nothing but a stunt? And no one had bothered to tell her it was a stunt?

Did he even care about her at
all
?

“You tell her,” Greer said softly. “I quit.”

“You can’t quit.” He didn’t look up from the proofs.

“I just did. You lied to me. I’m very upset,
Vader
.” Her voice was calm, but her hands were clenched at her sides to stop them from shaking. She was so upset she . . . well, she wanted to cry. And throw things. And maybe throw up. “I’m quitting. You can finish planning your wedding yourself, since it’s all fake.”

Stijn looked up, real panic on his face. “You can’t quit, Greer. We’ve two days before the wedding.”

She paused. He really did look upset. But she had to ask. “Are you upset because I’m unhappy? Or are you upset because I’m quitting?”

He hesitated.

That little hesitation was all it took. “Fuck you. Fuck you for not respecting me or my time, and fuck you for not respecting those three girls you’re dangling the marriage carrot in front of. They’re people,
Vader
. They’re people and they deserve to be treated like people. So fuck you. I’m done here.”

She turned and stormed out of his office. Stormed up the stairs. Stormed into her room. Threw her clothes into her suitcase and shoved all of her things into it as quickly as she could. She was leaving. Leaving Vegas, leaving Asher and his games behind, leaving Kiki and Bunni and Tiffi and her father to do whatever the hell they wanted. If they wanted to get married still, she wanted no part in any of it.

She felt so . . . used. Like less than a person. Completely unimportant.

Greer had realized, staring into her father’s face, that he didn’t care about her. To him, she was like one of the triplets. Disposable and convenient. It didn’t matter that she was his only daughter and that he should have loved her. He didn’t know how to love anyone. But she’d known all her life that Stijn was, at heart, an asshole. To have it confirmed hurt, but it wasn’t surprising.