Spring Break Bride: A Virgin For The Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance

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by Vivien Vale


  “Care to dance?” I get up and extend my hand to her.

  “Umm…”

  The hesitation on her face speaks volumes, but if I’m not mistaken, there’s a certain heat in her eyes.

  “I don’t bite…hard. Unless you ask me to, of course…that’s a totally different story,” I wink.

  “Okay, okay, let’s go,” she smiles as she takes my hand. “Ryan doesn’t like to dance, so I want to get it out of my system!”

  More shit Ryan doesn’t like. Is there anything the prick does like? Come to think of it, I don’t want to answer my fucking question.

  But seriously—what the fuck does she see in him?

  I lead her almost to the center of the floor, and to my surprise, she immediately lets loose. Her hips are shaking in time to the music, and she’s got her arms up in the air, pulsing to the beat.

  Not only is she a fox, she can really get down on the dance floor. She’s standing with her ass to my groin, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control to not pull her close and show her the chaos she’s thrown my cock into.

  “You’re pretty fucking good at this,” I lean down and whisper in her ear.

  She pulls her hair over her opposite shoulder and leans in.

  Down, boy.

  “What was that?” she yells, so I can hear her over the music.

  “I said, you’re really fucking good at this!”

  At that moment, her sexy ass grazes the front of my pants, and I’m powerless to stop the soldier attempting to stand at full mast. I can feel my cock pushing against the confines of my slacks, and I attempt to think of several sad things to make it stop.

  It’s no use. He’s got a mind of his own, and right now, he’s ready to take a dip.

  Nicole looks over her shoulder at me as she sways, and the passion in her eyes matches exactly what I’m feeling right now.

  It’s almost like she knows what she’s doing to me.

  I move closer to press my chest against her back, and my hand brushes the curve of her waist.

  Instead of moving back right away, I wait for her reaction. A seductive smile plays on her lips, almost like she knows what I’ve done and has no plan to chastise me for it.

  All she has to do is push me away, and I’m more than happy to oblige.

  I’m a gentleman, after all.

  When the back of her hand brushes up against my thigh, I start to think that this is happening too much to be coincidental. My body is thoroughly heated up, and not because of the crowd on the dance floor or the exercise I’m getting.

  There’s only one reason I’m on fire, and her name is Nicole.

  I lightly take her hand, leading her off the floor.

  “I need to cool down, too hot out there,” I lie.

  Truth is, if we keep going like this, my lips are going to claim hers no matter how many fucking people are watching.

  She’s got a light sheen of sweat on her face and arms, but she’s all smiles, and I know that she’s enjoying herself.

  We enjoy one more drink together before deciding to head back to the hotel.

  I hire a gondola to take us down the canal, and it’s painstaking sitting next to her and not being able to do a damn thing about it.

  “That was so much fun, thanks for the night out,” she smiles at me.

  “Anytime. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. A beautiful lady like you has no business being cooped up in a hotel room all night when there’s fun to be had.”

  I make the mistake of looking up at her. Her face is dangerously close to mine. Our eyes connect.

  “We’re here!” the gondolier says, snapping us both back to reality.

  We walk to the front of the hotel, and the silence between us is deafening.

  “Um…”

  “Okay, well…”

  We talk at the same time.

  “Heh,” I chuckle, “have a good night.”

  “Yeah…good night.”

  We both head to our rooms.

  Holy shit.

  I was seconds away from kissing her.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Chapter 9

  Nicole

  NO!

  I’m not sure if I screamed it out loud, or if it’s part of my dream.

  I’m slow to wake up. I’m tossing and turning under the sheets in the lush suite at the Aman, clinging to pieces of my hazy dreams.

  In them, Ryan finally made an appearance. But we were on different gondolas, passing each other on the canal and each going in opposite directions. We’re going to the same wedding!, I wanted to shout in my dream, but somehow, no words came out, and he didn’t seem to see me.

  Then there was the extravagant bar at the club and the Italian bartender marrying us. I turned to face the groom, my husband, and couldn’t make out his face. There was Dante, taking me home, and we said goodnight outside the suite.

  Suddenly, I’m wide awake.

  Dante!

  Last night. Did we? I shake my head.

  No, he didn’t kiss me.

  For the briefest of seconds, I might have hoped he’d kiss me, but he didn’t.

  A hot flash of confusion washes over my body, and I feel both guilt and pleasure. I kick off the sheets and shake myself fully awake. It was a dream—nothing happened!

  Dante the gentleman simply took me out and brought me back home safe, at the request of Ryan, my fiancé.

  It hits me fully.

  This is it.

  Today is my wedding day!

  By tonight, I’ll be Mrs. McCray, and Ryan and I will be united forever. My mind flashes forward to the wedding night. I sink back on the bed and lustfully slide a hand between my legs, the other over my breasts.

  “Oh, Ryan,” I voice to my image of him gently lowering himself over me, his face close. But as I get excited and wet, it’s Dante’s sweet features swimming in my imagination.

  The room phone rings and interrupts my moment.

  “Rise and shine,” Allison chirps. “Last day as a virgin! Today is your day!”

  If only she knew how caught I feel. I mumble good morning, and she interprets my quiet response her own way.

  “Still no word from Ryan?”

  I scroll through my phone. “It’s weird, because he’s getting my messages, but he’s not replying.”

  “He better be here soon,” Allison growls.

  I don’t want to picture the alternative.

  “I’ll be up in a minute, and we can order breakfast in while I help you with the dress and we put the finishing touches on your killer outfit. What do you think?”

  “That sounds great, Ally, thanks. You’re the best!” I don’t even ask where she is or why she’s not in the room.

  I stroll into the luxurious bathroom of the finest Italian marble to take a shower. But my mind is still lingering on the dreamy mix-up of Ryan and Dante, so I turn the water ice cold to snap out of it.

  Shivering, I wrap myself in a silk robe. Allison arrives just as room service delivers the sizable breakfast she ordered.

  “Ally, who’s going to eat all that?” I exclaim as the waiters bring in trays upon trays of crispy rolls, fette biscottate, buffalo mozzarella, prosciutto, sour cherry and apricot jam, and strudel di mele.

  “You said you were going to eat what you want now!”

  “If I eat all this, I’m not going to fit in my wedding dress,” I protest.

  The wedding dress. We sit in silence and sip strong Italian coffee, looking at the flared white dress laid out on my bed.

  “I’m in no mood to put it on,” I confess.

  Again, Allison assumes I’m just worried about Ryan—when I’m also thinking of Dante.

  “So, no word from Ryan practically since we got here? I can’t believe that guy!”

  I only nod.

  We just met, but I feel I’ve known Dante so much longer since we connected over so many different things—the beauty of Venice, drawing and art, music…and dancing. I can’t help but recall how close
we were on the dance floor last night.

  Why am I so drawn to this man when I’m about to marry another? Ryan, I remind myself, the man of my dreams.

  But what played out in my head last night has shown me that I can dream differently.

  I get up with a drawn-out sigh.

  “Let’s get you into that dress,” Ally says.

  As I slide off my robe, she giggles. “If we send a picture like that to Ryan right now, you’d have a lightning speed response.”

  Allison helps me adjust the subtle train of the dress to the perfect length and picks out shoes for me.

  “You look absolutely gorgeous,” she says as I turn in front of the full-length mirror.

  I easily find the striding movements of my beauty queen days again and admire myself. I have to say, the red shimmer of the dress gives me a royal appearance. I’m a princess bride, so where is my prince?

  As if she’s read my mind, Allison pipes up with “If Ryan doesn’t marry you, I swear…” I pretend I didn’t hear her comment.

  “Thanks to Dante, we’re following the old tradition of carnival masks, and I’ve got a new dress,” I say instead. “I’m wearing blue panties, now all I need is…”

  “Something borrowed,” Allison completes my thought. “I gotcha, sister.”

  And she brings out these delicate diamond earrings of white gold.

  They’re of subtle and enchanting beauty, and they complement my dress perfectly. I know they’ve been in Allison’s family for generations and that she herself hardly wears them for lack of special occasions.

  So the fact that she let me have them for my wedding instead of saving them for her own shows me what a true friend she is. I tear up as I put on the earrings.

  “Oh, Nicole, you’re welcome,” Allison says as I turn to her.

  “Ally,” I sob, “what if…what if Ryan doesn’t show up?!”

  “He will,” she reassures me, “he will. Just look at you, you’re the most stunning bride ever.”

  “But he isn’t here yet!” I cry out.

  She hugs me softly and carefully, wanting to comfort me without wrinkling the dress.

  Oh, how did I end up in this mess? My heart sinks, and I’m absolutely desperate. Despite my earlier confusion, the possibility of Ryan not showing up, the thought of being left alone at the altar fills me with dread. I feel sheer and utter panic rising within me.

  For once, Allison has no comeback and the misery washes over me like a huge wave, threatening to drown me.

  As we stand in the middle of the room, me sobbing and she at a loss for words, there’s a soft but firm knock on the door.

  “I’ll see who that is.”

  As Allison goes to check on the door, I sniff and dry my eyes. Then I hear her muffled voice at the entrance to the suite.

  “What are you doing here now?”

  I’m all ears. Who is she talking to?

  “The nerve,” Allison hisses, trying to keep her voice down. “First, no word from you, and now this!”

  Ryan?

  “You know you’re not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony. But you could have… do you know how she feels because of you?!”

  “Who is it?” I walk hastily towards the door.

  “Wrong room,” Allison quickly says and tries to shut the door, but a hand pushes her back.

  A man steps in. It’s Ryan—in his complete costume and mask.

  I gasp. I’m so taken aback, I can’t even say his name. I cover my mouth as surprise, joy and relief nearly sweeping me off my feet.

  With quick, determined steps, he starts walking towards me. He takes my hand firmly into his and places an arm around my waist.

  I sling my arms around his neck, overjoyed that he’s finally here. He gently dips me back and leans in for a daring before-the-wedding kiss.

  “Oh, Ryan, I think we’re not supposed to do this,” I whisper, but it feels so good he’s finally here that I give in.

  It’s electric, and where before I had no energy and was completely down, a live wire tingling makes me light-headed and dizzy. He keeps pressing his lips against mine, and I reach to run my hand through his hair, which feels different, soft, exciting. Breathless, I open my mouth, and his tongue against mine delivers a whole new range of feelings, gentle and sweet.

  My heart is fluttering like all the pigeons we’d seen in the Piazzo San Marco, and I’m screaming inside.

  This is it, this is my wedding day! The moment I’ve been waiting for! All the pieces of my life are coming together to form a precious new picture, like the tile mosaics in the Basilica here in Venice.

  All this must be coming from the city, this historic and beautiful place, and the special time of carnival. Because if this is Ryan in front of me, he’s either very changed, or… I don’t complete the thought. Instead, I start dreaming about all the art I could create with this incredible energy if it remains between us like this.

  My eyes reluctantly flutter open after the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life as Ryan pulls back slowly.

  “Ryan,” I manage, panting, “where have you been? Why haven’t you responded to my messages?”

  I reach to take off his mask, but he stops my hand. He places a finger over my mouth to still my questions and just says, “I’ll explain later, Nicole. I’ll see you at the ceremony.”

  And with that, he’s gone again. I collapse in disbelief at the magic moment I’d just lived.

  Chapter 10

  Dante

  It’s fucking decision time.

  I’m standing in the middle of Piazza San Marco, Saint Mark’s Square. I’m observing the ebb and flow of people around me. Clearly, this is the epicenter for the carnival, which is well under way.

  But the festivities don’t move me. I’m in no mood to celebrate. I feel like a nutshell on the ocean being tossed around by a storm; my mind is in turmoil.

  I have never been so torn in my entire life.

  Should I tell Nicole the truth? That Ryan isn’t coming? That he’s leaving her stranded on her wedding day?

  Or should I continue with the deception I started this morning?

  It feels wrong, but then again, kissing Nicole felt so right. It satisfied a need in me I never knew I had.

  A stream of college kids on spring break rushes past, exhilarated, roaring with laughter. They’re having the time of their lives with wild abandon. The anonymity of the masks makes them bold.

  Yet the carnival in Venice is entirely different from Mardi Gras in New Orleans or the Caribbean carnival. It must be the magnificent and palatial buildings with their splendid stonework all around. They lend the festivities, the pleasure, and indulgence a genteel air.

  It’s magical, and it almost feels as if I’ve been transported back in time—to an era of chivalry, knights and honor.

  Honor.

  The word resonates with me.

  Chivalry.

  I watch the gaping tourists snap pictures, turning in circles. The throng of people continues on around them. The locals know how to navigate their city, even when it’s chock-full of visitors at this time of the year.

  I have to admire the distinct styles of the different carnival masks, so steeped in tradition as I’ve learned from the guidebook. There’s the Colombina half-mask, the Medico della peste with the bird-like beak, harlequins, the iconic Volto masks in festive gold, stark white, and gaudy feathers.

  How intriguing to meet a masked stranger and complete each other...even if only for a night. Or a lifetime, it occurs to me suddenly.

  I should be drifting joyfully through this procession, drinking it all in without a care. But I realize I’m stalling because I feel incomplete.

  I have left an essential piece of myself with Nicole when I stepped out of her hotel suite this morning.

  I do care about her. Nicole, this sweet and fragile girl, so innocent.

  And Ryan wants me to lie to her. That idiot is still in Rome, in the wrong fucking city for crying out loud. But he’s a
lso balling whatever skanky slut he can’t resist this time around.

  That must be satisfying his primal urges so deeply that he’s blowing off his own wedding—his wedding with Nicole, of all women.

  Nicole...beautiful and shining. The best woman one could ever meet.

  He wants me, his best man, to simply take care of things, like I’m the clean-up crew to his fuck-ups. As if I’m paying off a prostitute he screwed.

  Ryan is one messed-up guy, but I’ve always given him the benefit of the doubt no matter what neck-deep shit that asshole got himself into.

  Sometimes, friendship is blind to a man’s faults.

  I’ve always bailed Ryan out of jail in the middle of the night, no questions asked. But to break Nicole’s heart over a lay in Rome? To shatter that girl’s dreams of the wedding she’s always wanted?

  I’ve worked myself into a rage over Ryan, and my breathing is heavy. My face feels damp, and I remember the mask that’s still on my face. No one in this crowd can tell who I am.

  I’ve always been adventurous and daring. I’ve never been afraid to jump headfirst into anything, to enjoy life and live to the fullest.

  Which also means I’ve never even considered marrying anyone. I didn’t believe the perfect wife could be out there. Then Ryan finds her, finds Nicole—and rejects her.

  Who am I? I’m not so sure anymore because Nicole has brought out a completely new side in me.

  From the minute we met, I had wanted to protect her. Save her like I did when I fished her out of the canal.

  I know I have to protect her from what Ryan is about to inflict on her, to save her from an absolute nightmare.

  That baboon Ryan has made up his mind not to show up to his wedding...

  But what if the wedding proceeds without him?

  I have everything I need. I’m wearing Ryan’s costume. I’m hidden under the mask.

  I have the rings in my pocket, and Nicole will think I’m Ryan—like she did this morning.

  Although I don’t think she ever kissed him the way we did. I certainly haven’t experienced a kiss like the one we shared.

  It was the best kiss of my life.

 

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