The Wedding Song: 5-hour read. Billionaire romance, sweet clean romance. (Colorado Billionaires Book 10)

by Regina Duke

  Zinnia beamed at him and nestled under his arm as the limo pulled into traffic. “Does he know where to go?”

  “Yes. I called him earlier. I have a great idea for brunch.”

  She nodded eagerly. “Details?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Shall I guess?”

  “If you like.”

  “The Russian Tea Room?”

  “Closed.”

  “Oh, darn. The Statue of Liberty for a picnic?”

  “The limo can’t swim.”

  “Shoot.” She peered out the window, confused as they turned onto Fifth Avenue. The Trump Tower loomed ahead. “Oh dear,” she said. “Are there restaurants in there?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” teased Bart, “because that’s not where we’re going.”

  “Then why is the driver pulling over?”

  Bart pointed at the delightful period façade of the building next door. “Because we’re going to Tiffany’s.”

  Zinnia squealed with delight. “Oh my gosh! That’s so romantic! Do we have to stand on the sidewalk and eat croissants out of a bag?”

  Bart laughed. “No, nothing like that. We’re going inside. Upstairs. To the Blue Box Cafe.”

  Zinnia felt like she was floating on a cloud.

  The driver stopped in the middle of his lane—a line of taxis was arrayed before Tiffany’s—and jogged around to open their door. Zinnia let Bart take her hand as she stepped out of the limo. Just like Cinderella, she thought, if Cindy ever wore blue jeans and layers of sweaters. Of course, Cinderella wasn’t dealing with February in New York! It’s a good thing I’m from Colorado. At least I’m used to cold weather.

  A Tiffany employee held the door open for them as they entered the store.

  “Welcome, Mr. Hazen. I haven’t seen you since college. Good to have you back in New York.”

  Zinnia had never seen such a huge display of glittering jewelry, and her eyes widened with appreciation.

  Bart told the man, “We have reservations at the Blue Box, but I’d like to take a little detour first.”

  “Right this way, sir.”

  Zinnia poked him playfully in the arm. “When did you have time to make reservations?”

  “While you were talking to Rose, I was on my phone.” He put his lips close to her ear and whispered, “I cheated. I bribed a waiter.”

  Zinnia laughed. “They take bribes?”

  “Not really, but they know my father here, so the name Hazen has a little pull.”

  The doorman waved at an elegantly dressed woman behind one of the many display cases that filled the main floor. “Miss St. John will assist you.” He pronounced her name “Sin Jin.”

  Zinnia was taken aback. The case was full of large, twinkling diamonds and a lot of stones she had no names for. “What are we doing here?”

  Bart looked like the cat who ate the canary. “I thought you might enjoy picking out a pair of friendship rings for you and Rose.”

  Zinnia gasped. “Oh my gosh, that’s so thoughtful of you! But I barely have three hundred dollars left in my purse. I don’t think it’ll buy much here.”

  “Not to worry,” said Bart. “I’m paying for them.”

  “That’s not right.”

  “You can pay me back when you make your first million.”

  Zinnia knew she was taking advantage, but she couldn’t help herself. “Really? That’s so generous!” She spent ten minutes making her selection, finally picking two rings that formed an opal heart when worn together but were designed to be worn separately as well.

  Bart looked pleased. “Rose will love that.”

  Zinnia nodded. “I think so.”

  “We’ll take these,” said Bart. “Along with the box you have waiting for me under the counter.”

  Miss St. John gave an alluring smile and retrieved a small box—robin’s egg blue—from a drawer beneath the display case. “Will that be all, sir? Your total is—”

  Bart cut her off. “No offense, dear, but mum’s the word.” He handed her an American Express card.

  “Of course,” said the clerk.

  A few moments later they were on their way to the elevators. Zinnia was delighted with the decor of the cafe. Everything was robin’s egg blue. They were escorted immediately to a table, and she was relieved when no one seemed to notice her casual attire.

  Brunch was delicious. Zinnia tasted foods she’d never known existed. The three-tiered plate with tiny, precisely designed bits of cake and savories intimidated her at first, but she followed Bart’s lead, picking out a sweet one and popping it in her mouth. The entire experience felt like a trip through the looking glass. She wondered if Alice had been this amazed at all the things she found on the other side of the mirror…because that was what this felt like. The difference between life in New York and life in Eagle’s Toe was so great, she wondered if she could ever go back.

  An extremely dignified waiter came by, cleared the dirty dishes from the table, and poured coffee for the two of them. Zinnia was pretty sure that this would be one of the most memorable days of her life, but all they’d done was have brunch, so maybe she should wait until after the gallery opening to assign number values to each day.

  Her plan was destroyed when Bart pulled out the small blue box he’d picked up at the friendship ring case and set it on the table between them.

  He said, “This is for you. Before you open it, I want to tell you that you’re the most talented and fascinating person I’ve ever met. You’re beautiful, you’re kind, you’re everything a man could want. Go on. Open it.”

  She did, and inside was the biggest diamond she’d ever imagined. How could that sit on a finger? And yet, it was in a ring setting, so that’s were it was destined to sit. She took in a long breath of appreciation and gazed at Bart over the top of the box. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t guys get down on one knee anymore?”

  “I was trying to be subtle.”

  “Good. But could you actually speak the question? So when I tell my friends you asked, I’m not fibbing to them?”

  Bart nodded and tried to speak, then reached for his water. He took a sip and began again. “Zinnia, will you marry me?”

  Zinnia squealed so loudly, everyone in the cafe turned and stared, most with smiles on their faces.

  Bart cleared his throat. “Is that a yes?”

  She nodded vigorously, both hands over her mouth.

  “Well, could you actually speak the answer? So when I tell people you said yes, I’m not fibbing to them?”

  Zinnia said, “Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

  The other diners applauded.

  Bart leaned across the small table, took her hand and kissed her knuckles. Then he freed the ring from the box and slipped it onto the appropriate finger.

  The weight of the diamond was noticeable, but Zinnia was glad. She would always be able to tell if the ring was there without having to look. “I love it,” she whispered. It was nothing like the abysmally tiny ring that Chester had bought for Rose. The thought of Chester made her shudder. How could they possibly be related? But if anyone would know who her father was, it would be her mother. She pushed all thought of that family mess out of her mind and asked, “Do you have something wonderful planned to celebrate our engagement?”

  “Well, actually—” The ping of his phone interrupted him. “Hmm. Looks like Rose got tired of walking. She’s asking for the limo to pick her up.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “You tell me,” said Bart, showing her the phone.

  The message read, “Need limo. Will explain later.” She’d added her location.

  Zinnia frowned. “That’s not much information.”

  Another text arrived. Bart looked at the screen and groaned. “I swear, I could strangle this woman.”

  “Woodsy?”

  “Yes.” He made an exasperated noise. “I’m sorry, Zin. I have to go to the gallery for a while
and make some decisions that I thought we already made. It’s only a few blocks from here. I can walk. Why don’t you take the limo and pick up Rose? You may have some news you want to share with her.” His eyebrows bounced mischievously.

  Zinnia giggled.

  Bart stood up and leaned in for a kiss. The warmth of his lips against hers sent a tingle down her spine. “We’ll celebrate later,” he promised. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the car.” He did some thumb-dancing on his phone screen. “It should be out front by the time we get down there.”

  Once Zinnia was in the limo, Bart gave the driver Rose’s location and blew Zin a kiss. She mimed a perfect catch, beaming at him. Part of her mind was asking, Do you know what you’re doing? And another part was answering, Shut up! I’m fulfilling my high school dream. I’m marrying a famous wealthy artist and I’m even in love! The two sides of her brain argued back and forth all the way across town.

  The driver announced, “There she is, miss. I think she’s limping.”

  “Oh dear,” said Zinnia. “I’d better go help her.” She barely gave him time to pull to the curb before she jumped out of the car.

  The Hudson River twinkled in the sunlight behind Rose, who didn’t twinkle at all. “Zinnia! Thank God.”

  “What happened?”

  “Wrong shoes for walking. I twisted my ankle.”

  “Was your mother on the phone when you did it?”

  “No, thank goodness.” She dropped her gaze to the sidewalk. “Chester texted me a photo,” she said bleakly. She held her phone out for Zin to see.

  Chester and Chrissie were embracing with Chrissie’s hand outstretched to show off her engagement ring—the same one that Rose had flung back in his face when she called off the wedding.

  Zinnia tucked her hand and her diamond tactfully behind her back. Not the right time to share her news. “I’m so sorry.”

  It was Rose’s turn to burst into tears.

  * * *

  Bart was ready to wring Woodsy’s neck. Why did she second-guess all the decisions they’d made a week ago? He was in a foul mood when he got to the gallery.

  “What’s the problem, Woodsy? Everything should be ready to go by now.”

  Woodsy’s blouse was orange silk today, and as usual, there were dark stains under her armpits. Bart wondered if it would be rude to suggest perspiration pads to protect her clothes.

  “I was going over our placements and I came up with a new arrangement that will let us use the central space more efficiently,” she crowed.

  Bart eyed her suspiciously. “I told you, I’m going to need that space. I would appreciate it if you would simply set it up as described, with the stool, easel, and white backdrop.”

  Woodsy looked like a woman ready to snap. “To what purpose? Are you planning on holding a press conference or something?”

  Bart smiled at her, using the smarmy one he reserved for especially obnoxious people. “Why, that’s a great idea.”

  Woodsy screamed deep in her throat and raised her fists in the air. “Will you at least look at my new plan?”

  Bart decided he’d better comply or she might have a stroke. “Have you ever considered a less stressful position?”

  She glared at him. “The plans are on my desk. Please go take a look at them, and I’ll join you in a bit to get your opinion.” She shook her head in disgust. “This is supposed to be my dream job, my part-time post-retirement-from-Wall-Street gig. What was I thinking?”

  Bart suppressed a grin as he marched toward her office. The birth of an idea tickled the back of his brain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Zinnia had never been more grateful for the presence of the chauffeur, as he helped her assist Rose into the back seat of the limo. Then he got behind the wheel, ready for instructions.

  “Let me see that ankle,” Zinnia said.

  “It’s kind of swollen,” sniffed Rose. “Ow! Ow, ow, ow! What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to take your shoe off.”

  Rose gasped. “Not a good idea.”

  Zinnia’s brow pinched with worry. “I think you need an X-ray,” she said. An acrylic partition separated the back from the driver while allowing passengers to see out the front window. There was a small sliding door in it, and she opened it to speak to him. “Excuse me, but can you take us to the gallery where Bart’s showing will be? And after that, we need to go to a hospital.”

  Rose leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Every now and then, another tear would escape and trickle down her cheek.

  Zinnia attempted to calm her, wondering how much of her pain was emotional and how much was physical. “You did the right thing, breaking it off with Chester. You know that, right?”

  Rose nodded, moving her head a whole half an inch.

  “It must have been a terrible shock to see Chrissie wearing your engagement ring.”

  Another barely perceptible nod.

  “But look on the bright side…”

  Rose’s eyes popped open and she screwed her face into a question mark. “What bright side?”

  Zinnia lifted one side of her mouth in a mischievous smirk. “You can have the pleasure of telling Chrissie that Chester is my half brother! That should freak her out.”

  “You think she doesn’t know?”

  “It was practically impossible for Mother to tell me who my father was. She never did say his name, did you notice? Chrissie may have learned that Bernard wasn’t my biological father, but no way does she know who he really is.” She felt much more smug than her conscience thought she should, and she hoped her mother would forgive her for letting Rose break the news.

  Rose began to relax. “Oh, yeah. Leave it to you to find a way to make me smile. So, why are we going to the gallery first?”

  “I want to make sure Bart knows what’s happening.”

  Rose pulled out her phone. “Twenty-first century, Zin. Text him.”

  Zinnia hesitated, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I didn’t want to show you this after your shock about Chrissie,” she said, “but…he gave me this at Tiffany’s.” She held out her left hand.

  Rose squealed at the sight of the diamond, then moaned when she moved her foot the wrong way. “Did he…?”

  Zinnia nodded vigorously.

  “And did you…?”

  Another vigorous nod, her eyes sparkling. “I’m already missing him,” she said. “That’s why I want to tell him in person what we’re doing. But if you’re in too much pain—”

  Rose squeezed her hand. “I’m so happy for you. I could see it all moving in this direction, but wow, he sort of popped the question out of the blue, didn’t he?”

  Zinnia shrugged. “Where better than Tiffany’s?”

  Rose smiled. “I can’t argue with that.” She chuckled. “I may want to give Chrissie my news in person as well.”

  Zinnia giggled.

  When they arrived at the gallery, she said, “Don’t move. Wait here. I’ll go in and let him know we’re going to get your foot X-rayed.” She hopped out of the car and trotted into the gallery, where spotted a middle-aged woman in an orange silk blouse. “Excuse me, is Bart here?”

  The woman looked her up and down. “You must be Zinnia!”

  “That’s me. I need to speak to Bart, please.”

  “I’ll take you to him. I can’t tell you how pleased I am that he’s complying with all the owner’s requirements. This show could earn him a small fortune. Or a big one, even. And you’ll be a big part of his success.” She paused at the entrance to the offices in the back and eyed Zinnia conspiratorially. “I hope he’s paying you extremely well.”

  Zinnia was taken aback. “For what?”

  Woodsy pulled her chin so close to her neck that two ripples of fat appeared beneath it. “For playing his wife, silly. Don’t tell me you’re doing it as a personal favor.”

  Zinnia stood there, glued to the spot. She felt like Woodsy had reached inside her and scraped every bit of joy and happiness out of
her being. She couldn’t take a breath, and she could have sworn someone had dimmed the lights.

  Woodsy didn’t seem to notice. “Come on through. He’s in my office.”

  Zinnia felt herself nod, but her body wasn’t cooperating. Her feet moved backwards, one jerky step at a time. When she could breathe again, she panted like she’d just run a mile. Now her head was shaking back and forth, and in the next moment, she turned and scurried back to the limo.

  She didn’t wait for the chauffeur. She opened the back door and threw herself inside, slamming the door hard behind her.

  Rose was surprised. “Are you okay? You look like crap.”

  Zinnia stared at Rose’s foot as she spoke. “Do you think it’s broken?”

  “No. I think I can move my toes.”

  “Do you still have your mother’s credit card with you?”

  “Always. What gives?”

  Zinnia rapped on the partition. When the driver made eye contact in his rearview mirror, she screeched, “LaGuardia, and step on it!”

  * * *

  Bart blew out a frustrated lungful of air and ran a hand through his hair. Was Woodsy on drugs or something? Her bright idea for rearranging the display for the opening struck him as pointless and labor intensive. Where the heck was she, anyway? She’d said she would be back in a few minutes to get his opinion. Maybe she’d chickened out. He would have to go look for her.

  He found her at the glass wall at the front of the gallery, staring down the street. “Hey, Woodsy. Sorry to disappoint you but I think those changes are completely unnecessary.”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly. “Bart! Oh, fine, we’ll go with your original plan then.” She smiled tightly.

  Alarm bells went off in Bart’s mind. She’d given up way too easily. “What’s going on?”

  Woodsy shook her head quickly. “Nothing. Not a thing.” She avoided his eyes.

  Bart crossed his arms over his chest. “Out with it,” he demanded.

  All the starch drained out of her. “I think I made a boo-boo.”

  “Can we please talk like grown-ups?”

  She spread her hands. “It’s all your fault, you know. You told me you’d found a bride.”