Black Tie Optional (Wild Wedding Series Book 1)

by Ann Marie Walker

  He was so fucked.

  And the situation was about to get much worse. Accompanying Olivia had seemed like a good idea when Rebecca suggested it. But now, nearly a week later, Cole wondered if they’d made the right call, and the closer they got to their departure, the more he questioned that decision. Navigating life in Chicago was one thing; going away together for the weekend was another. Which was why despite having already worked out at home that morning, he was at it again in his office gym.

  He cranked up the incline and increased the speed. His chest heaved from the exertion, but he didn’t let up. He’d wear the damn machine out if he had to—or maybe his legs; it was a tossup which would fail first, but one way or another he had to get over wanting to fuck his wife into the middle of next week.

  There was a tap on the door. Cole slowed his pace. “Come in.”

  Jonathan poked his head around the frame. “I have the file you requested, Mr. Grant.”

  “Excellent.” He punched a few buttons to lower the ramp. “And?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Cole stepped off the treadmill and grabbed the bottle of chilled Vasa he’d left on the weight bench. “Give it to me from the top.” He cracked the lid off with a twist of his wrist and took a long drink of water as he waited for the run down to begin.

  Jonathan flipped open a manila folder. He knew the drill. They’d been down this road numerous times. Cole never went into a meeting without all the facts. Hell if he was going to meet his in-laws without gathering as much intel as possible. Jonathan had done a quick background check on Olivia in the hours leading up to their wedding, but this time Cole had asked him to dig a little deeper.

  “Olivia Grace Ramsey is the only child of Susan and Brian Ramsey. Although from the looks of it, her mother goes by Ramsey in town but never legally changed her last name.”

  Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Cole thought.

  “Her parents still live downstate in the small town where she grew up,” Jonathan continued. “Mostly a farming community.”

  “So they’re farmers?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “They have a decent size parcel of land and a few animals, but it’s not a working farm. Mom has a small store in town that sells beads and candles. Dad’s a veterinarian.”

  Great, a tree hugger and an animal lover. There was no way around it; Cole was in for a long, painful weekend. But hopefully that was the worst of it. “Any skeletons rattling around that I should be aware of?”

  “Not really. Mom had a few arrests back in her early twenties, all for peaceful protests at some nuclear reactor out west.”

  Activist too? That apple just kept rolling closer.

  “Other than that, it’s all pretty mundane.”

  “Thank you, Jonathan.”

  “Do you need anything else, sir?”

  “No, that will be all.” From what he knew of Olivia, and now her parents, showing up with Jonathan in tow would go over like a lead balloon. Besides, he liked the comfort of knowing his right-hand man was keeping an eye on his sister. “Keep a close watch on Rebecca while I’m gone and alert me immediately of any developments.”

  “Of course,” Jonathan assured him.

  He hadn’t been alone for two minutes when his phone dinged with an incoming text. It was from Conor.

  Think her dad has a shotgun?

  Cole rolled his eyes. Fuck you.

  Only if you’ll marry me in Vegas too. Little bubbles popped up to indicate Conor was typing what was no doubt another gem of a reply, but at the moment Cole didn’t have time for trading jabs. He had a road trip to get to. Speaking of . . .

  Cole glanced at the TAG Heuer strapped to his wrist and frowned. He’d messaged Olivia hours ago asking what time they needed to leave, and he still hadn’t heard back. Hell if he was going to double-text her. Fuck, now he sounded like a teenage girl.

  He was ready to hop back on the treadmill for another five-mile sprint when his phone dinged again. This time it was Olivia.

  Meet you in front of the castle at 5, she’d typed, making use of the nickname she’d given his penthouse. It was like the woman went out of her way to find new means with which to annoy him. God only knew what she had in store for him over the next two days.

  Cole groaned. Two solid days. There were a million and one things he should have been doing that weekend and visiting Olivia’s family was not one of them. Still, his sister was right, it would raise suspicions-not to mention make him look like a total douche-if he didn’t tag along to meet the new in-laws.

  He yanked his T-shirt off and wiped the sweat from his brow as he made his way to the shower. The icy cold water did nothing to erase the images that had been haunting him day and night. And now he was about to spend two hours trapped in a car with the woman who simultaneously made his head ache and his cock hard. With any luck, she’d be wearing a burlap sack for the trip downstate. Or a trench coat. Or even those ridiculous drawstring pants with the emojis all over them. Anything but the faded jeans with the Bonnaroo patch. Those fucking jeans would be the death of him. She had to know her ass looked freaking amazing in them. In Cole’s experience, no woman walked out of the house without at least a half dozen looks in the mirror and most of them were of the rear view. Which meant she was doing it to him on purpose. Fucking tease.

  But an hour later, as he pushed through the doors of his building, Cole realized Olivia’s wardrobe was the least of his problems. Because while she was indeed wearing the devil jeans paired with a pale green sweater that made her eyes look amazing and her tits even better, at the moment the more pressing issue was her car.

  “What the hell is that?” Cole asked as Olivia climbed out of a light blue Plymouth Duster. He’d expected her to drive up in some sort of electric hybrid, or maybe something she’d rigged to run on vegetable oil. But this looked like it had been driven straight out of a 1970’s junkyard. It was totally unacceptable.

  “Not what, who.” Olivia grinned. “This is Bertha,” she said as if she was introducing him to one of her best friends. “I’ve had her since high school, and she was my mom’s before that. Never go home without her.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding?”

  Olivia met him with a glare that made it clear she was most certainly not. Fuck that.

  “I’m driving,” he said. It wasn’t a request. “The Bugatti or the Range Rover, you can pick.”

  “No way.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Listen Mr. Hot Shit, I went to your fancy-pants party, rode in that gas guzzler of a spaceship, and even wore a dress that severely restricted my ability to breathe. But this is my turf. We ride in my car, and we wear normal clothes.” She eyed his outfit. He was wearing khaki pants, a blue button-down shirt, and a sport coat, but from the look on her face you’d have thought he came down the stairs dressed in a wifebeater tank and cut-off jeans.

  “These are my normal clothes,” he said.

  “Jeans would be more appropriate.” Olivia glanced down at his nubuck oxfords. “And a pair of boots.” She smirked. “I’m sure you have some Ralph Lauren version of all that, don’t you?”

  Cole pressed his lips together in a hard line. Who the hell did she think she was, demanding they take that piece of crap and telling him how to dress? Then again, the whole goal of the weekend was to smooth things over with her parents. Keeping a low profile would go a long way to that end.

  “Fine. Your car and your wardrobe. But I’m driving.” He stalked off toward the lobby of his building and when he returned fifteen minutes later, had changed into a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater. He’d even ditched the suede shoes in favor of a pair of hiking boots. They were still a designer brand though; he had to draw the line somewhere.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She eyed him from head to toe. “You’ll do.”

  “Then let’s go.” He snatched the keys out of Olivia’s hand and headed toward the car.

  “When was the last
time you even drove?” she asked, tight on his heels.

  He chuckled. “I drive all the time.” But when he reached the car door his smile faded. “Although usually cars from this century.” He fumbled with the lock. Whoever invented automatic key fobs should be given a fucking medal.

  “Bertha might be a senior citizen, but she’s still got a lot of good miles in her.”

  Cole tossed his bag in the back alongside Olivia’s and slid behind the wheel. He put the key in the ignition and turned it, but instead of roaring to life, the engine merely sputtered. “Well, it was fun while it lasted,” he said dryly. “Looks like we’ll be taking my car after all.”

  “Not so fast. There’s nothing wrong with Bertha that a little TLC won’t fix.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “She just needs a little love. Pump the gas lightly three times . . .”

  Begrudgingly, Cole began tapping his foot on the accelerator.

  “. . . and then say ‘c’mon baby.’”

  He cut his eyes at her. “You’re insane.”

  “You’re the one who insisted on driving.”

  He ignored her and tried the ignition again, but nothing happened other than a few sad coughs and chokes. Jesus, was it possible she owned a car that was as temperamental as she was?

  Olivia sat facing him in the seat, her back against the passenger door and her arms crossed over her chest. “Whenever you’re ready, Hot Shot.”

  Cole cursed under his breath before grinding out a demanding ‘c’mon, baby’ from between clenched teeth.

  “Do you know any woman who would respond to that tone?”

  He turned to look at her. “If I recall correctly, you did. Quite well in fact.”

  A flush crept over her cheeks. “Well, Bertha is different.” She nodded to the steering wheel. “Do it again and give her a little rub this time.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. Cole let out a long-suffering sigh and against his better judgment gave it one last try. Much to his surprise, Bertha purred to life. “Don’t even say it,” he said.

  Olivia buckled her seatbelt and settled back against the vinyl seat. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, fighting the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  Yeah right, like she’d pass up an opportunity to bust his balls.

  But much to his surprise, she remained quiet, not saying a word about the car, his driving, or anything else for that matter. They drove in silence as Cole maneuvered the car through the city. Traffic was heavier than normal thanks to a music festival clogging up the entire lakefront, but once they merged onto the highway, they really started to move.

  Olivia stared out the window as the scenery blurred by. When she finally spoke, her tone was light and somewhat nostalgic. “God, I’ve missed this.”

  “Riding in a car?”

  She nodded. “I’d be happier behind the wheel, but this is a close second. There’s just something about the open road.”

  “Why do you even have a car in the city?” Traffic in Chicago was a bitch, and parking was even worse. Most people used public transportation and when that wasn’t an option, an Uber or a taxi.

  Olivia shrugged. “I like the independence it gives me. Sometimes I just need to get out of the city, breathe some air that hasn’t been polluted by gas-guzzling SUVs and the assholes that drive them.” She smirked. “No offense.”

  “None taken. But technically—”

  “If you’re about to point out that you don’t actually drive that monstrosity of a car, don’t bother. Those emissions are still on you, buddy.”

  Cole laughed. “And you think this hunk of junk is better for the environment?”

  Olivia rubbed the dashboard. “Don’t listen to him, baby.”

  He watched her with a raised brow. “Does she ever talk back?” Maybe his new bride was one cuckoo short of a full nest.

  “No,” Olivia said with a roll of her eyes. “But she’s a wicked DJ.”

  “As intrigued as I am to hear what Bertha would play . . .” Cole leaned back to pull his iPhone out of the front pocket of his jeans. “Here,” he said, unlocking the screen with his thumb. “I have several playlists. Just plug it in.”

  She shot him an amused look. “Where exactly?”

  His gaze shifted to the console and an archaic looking sound system. “Dear God, is that an 8-track system?”

  “Nope. She only came with an AM radio, but my grandfather installed this for my mom in the 80s.” Olivia opened the glove box and pulled out a cassette.

  “You made me a mix tape? How romantic.” The sarcasm in his voice was impossible to miss.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” She held the tape up for him to see. “I never go anywhere without this.”

  He squinted at the label. “The Best of Bertha-1980s” was written across it in black Sharpie. Cole cringed. “Oh, this ought to be good.”

  “Just to warn you, sometimes it plays a bit faster when you accelerate.”

  Perfect. Not only was he about to be subjected to something excruciating, but if he punched the gas it would sound like Alvin and the Chipmunks. Then again, maybe if he drove fast enough the tape would just snap.

  Olivia popped the cassette into the slot. There were a few clicking and squeaking sounds that for a moment had Cole hoping his ears might actually be spared. But instead of a stream of unwound tape spewing out of the console, music blasted from the speakers.

  “New rule,” he said as her head bobbed along to New Order’s ‘Bizarre Love Triangle.’ “None of this crap gets played in the penthouse.”

  “New rule,” Olivia countered. “You don’t get to make any more rules. You had your chance in Vegas. The window for negotiating has closed.” She kicked off her shoes, reclined her seat a few inches, and put her bare feet on the dashboard.

  Normally Cole would have objected—and he certainly would have if they’d been in his car. But while her smart mouth was as annoying as ever, for some reason Olivia’s actions didn’t bother him as much as he thought they would. In fact, the farther they got from the city limits, the less her playlist bothered him as well.

  Cole stared through the windshield at the open road. As much as it pained him to admit it, Olivia was right. There was something liberating about a road that stretched as far as the eye could see. It had been a long time since he’d left the world of concrete and glass. He’d forgotten how soothing miles and miles of absolutely nothing could be. Maybe a little time away from the grind was exactly what he needed.

  Then again, he was on his way to meet his new in-laws. Fake marriage or not, the idea made him uncomfortable. Cole wasn’t the relationship type which meant he also wasn’t the “take home to meet the family” type. And in this case, there was the added stress of pretending to be happily married.

  Olivia still hadn’t decided if she was going to tell her parents the full story. If she didn’t, then he also faced the complication of pretending to be blissfully happy. Hell, if he could pull that off maybe he’d be back at the Oscars, this time as a nominee. Musical differences aside, they barely got along. Even on a good day, they could hardly manage a two-minute conversation without it dissolving into a match of wits and insults. Of course, twice it also led to fucking, but as far as he could tell that wasn’t happening again. Still, the question remained: Could they really pull off playing a happy couple? Even if they could, there was still the matter of how her family was going to react, not only to the news but to him. Olivia’s mother knew of their wedding, and she’d no doubt told her father. But still, coming to terms with the idea that Olivia had eloped was one thing. The realization that her new husband was a billionaire was another. And while in theory most people thought that much money would be a blessing, in many ways it could be also be a curse.

  “How do you think this will go down?” he asked. They hadn’t really talked about what would happen when they arrived, and with the mile markers getting lower by the minute, there was no time like the present.


  “It’ll be seven by the time we get there, so my dad will be home from work, unless of course there’s been an emergency. My mom will have been cooking since dawn, so I hope you’re hungry. But other than stuffing our faces with the two of them, it should be pretty low key.”

  “No other family members I need to know about?” Of course, he already knew the answer to that, but tipping Olivia off as to the existence his little manila folder would’ve started a fight the remaining mileage wouldn’t have allowed them to finish.

  “Nope just me. Oh, and Bucky.”

  “Bucky?” There hadn’t been a Bucky mentioned anywhere in Jonathan’s research.

  “My dog.”

  “Ah, I see.” The name made sense since according to Jonathan’s report, her father went to Ohio State.

  “Make no mistake, Bucky is absolutely part of the family. I’ve had him as long as I’ve had Bertha. And believe me, if he doesn’t like you, you’re screwed with the rest of my family.”

  Great, now in addition to charming her mother and father, he also had to win over her dog.

  “And what kind of canine is dear Bucky?”

  “Golden lab.” Olivia pointed to an exit sign. “That’s us.”

  A sense of dread and unease rushed through Cole’s veins. He’d met with heads of state, collaborated with Nobel Prize winning scientists, and visited nearly every nation in the world. And yet for some reason his palms were damp at the idea of sitting down to a simple dinner with Olivia’s parents. On nearly every level, he knew it was crazy, but his autonomic nervous system was overriding logic, and at the moment all he could think about was if it was too late to turn back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cole veered of the highway, and after a few more instructions from Olivia, came upon a blue mailbox with the name “Ramsey” stamped in gold foil letters.

  “Turn here,” she said.

  He’d no sooner started down the lane when a yellow farmhouse with a wide front porch came into view. Even from that distance he could see Bucky, sitting at attention on the top step. Baskets filled with ferns hung from the ceiling and there was even a pair of wooden rocking chairs. The whole scene looked like something out of a movie. And even though he hadn’t stepped inside yet, Cole knew without a doubt that this wasn’t just a house, it was a home.