THE GOOD MISTRESS II: The Wedding

by Amarie Avant

  VERONICA: No warning? What sort of friend are you :/

  Sighing deeply, Mila thought of the best response. A heads-up that Lido was in town would’ve been nice. She could only assume that Lido had found and cornered Veronica since Lido wasn’t offered the chance to mooch off her and Blake.

  MILA: Sorry. What’s going on?

  VERONICA: Nothing I can’t handle. To be honest, L just showed up at our house. She left without acting up though.

  VERONICA: My House.

  MILA: Wow . . . she’s acclimating back to polite society.

  VERONICA: I guess. Well see you 2moro. Pray for me.

  MILA: Always.

  “You look relieved,” Blake said, holding out a flute.

  She had much to be thankful for and yet . . . in the back of Mila’s mind Todd was there. She had been trying to downplay it, but no matter what she did, he was always there when she closed her eyes. Blinking back the notion of him kissing her, Mila nodded. “Lido is acting like a civilized human being.”

  Blake chuckled. “See, another reason to celebrate.”

  His mouth descended on hers, and the momentary worry about Veronica’s first text message and the nightmares of Todd faded away.

  Blake

  Dressed in a custom suit, Blake clasped his cufflinks. He stood at the edge of the bed, watching Mila’s gorgeous sleeping frame. The soft white covers dipped low over Mila’s bare back, but the Egyptian cotton masked the gloriousness of her ass and hips. Her back rose and fell softly as she slept. God, he craved her with every bit of his being. She was the best thing to ever have happened to him.

  “Blake,” Mila murmured, reaching toward his side of the bed. As if sensing him, she rolled over slowly, licking her full lips. Every minuscule action she made was embedded in his brain. “I knew you were up.”

  “You want breakfast?”

  “Hmmm, that depends. Sounds like you might’ve done away with the chef again?” She joked. “Guess I should yes. It’ll be another reason I can fit into my wedding dress.”

  Blake shook his head. Her joke was at the expense of his cooking abilities. He moved to the side so that she could see the silver platter of food that he’d sat down before getting lost in the rapture of her sleeping beauty. He gestured to it. “I can scramble eggs.”

  “Damn, so you did. And yet, I’m still not a fan of burnt bacon.” She sat up, eyeing the cheesy eggs. Blake noted that her nipples hardened ever so perfectly as they rubbed against the sheets.

  Blake reached over and cupped a breast in his hand. His fingers flicked over the soft bulb. “Let me feed you, Mila. You worked out well into the night.”

  Her face was flush with embarrassment. “Champagne does something to me,” she chuckled. “But feed me if you must.”

  “Wow, this is me trying to be the good guy, and you don’t want it?” He wore his usual cocky grin.

  “Sorry, everything you cooked is perfect, except for the bacon. Wait. Aren’t you supposed to be at the office first thing this morning? Donald and the team had an idea to wrangle Kiy . . . Ki . . .”

  “Kiyota. Yeah, I pushed it back. First things first, Mila.” He kissed her lips. “Meaning, you always come first. Thao called this morning. He wants to meet us at eleven sharp.”

  “Oh, I hope he has thought of a few ideas for our wedding.”

  MILA

  Mila cocked her eyebrow when Blake told her that they both needed to welcome Thao into their home this morning. She had a few errands to run, so she donned a pair of tattered denim jeans, a blouse, and high-heels. After their visit, she needed to meet with Veronica at The People’s Love Project. They were to commence the first auditions for her nonprofit’s modeling event. Although the gist of the competition was to increase self-worth in young ladies, she still had no idea how big or exactly where she wanted it to go. Just moving up and forward for right now was good enough. While spritzing perfume onto her throat and wrists, Mila received a call from her mother.

  “Hey, Mama, you should be heading to bed.” She placed the call on speaker and searched her jewelry box for a pair of diamond solitaire earrings.

  “I had to wait for you to wake up, Mila.” Mrs. Ali’s tired voice decreased in sound. Apparently, she had pulled the phone away to yawn. “How are things going? I received your message about the dress. My beautiful daughter, no need wasting money on me.”

  “Oh, it’s no waste at all.” Mila began to clasp a black diamond into her left ear. “What are your measurements? I’m sure the Madame can accommodate us.”

  “Tsk, Mila I am okay.” Her mother sighed heavily. “I have a dress. I’ll wear it.”

  Mila bit her tongue, not telling her mother that her wedding would span multiple nights, and Thao had yet to secure a venue. She also refused to disrespect her elders. “Alright, Mama, so far, I have a dress. We’d like to get married in Japan or Asia at the very least.”

  Mila was beginning to make herself upset. Asia is an entire continent. What the hell am I talking about?

  “You and dad are more than welcome to fly out. Although I’m confident that Thao knows exactly what he’s doing, I could use some help planning the last-minute details.” Mila bit her lip, eager for her mother’s agreement. Yet, growing up in her mother’s household, she had become accustomed to her mother’s meek decline.

  “You spoke with a wedding planner last night, right? Yasmin was up hours ago, she spoke with me at—my dinner time. He’s a famous planner, right?”

  Damn, and now Mrs. Ali was building a case. Mila heaved a sigh. “Yes, Mama, but—”

  “Then you don’t need me. And you have your sisters.”

  “Yes, I do.” Mila shuffled through the bracelet section of the box, aimless in her search. “But it’d be nice to have you too.”

  “Your father will be away from the practice long enough for the wedding. He’s already worried about cantankerous dadka waayeelka ah—old people—who cannot survive too long without seeing their beloved doctor.”

  “I’ll just see you in two weeks?”

  “Mila, don’t sound so disheartened. You are planning the wedding of the century, Yasmin says.”

  ***

  It was a quarter after when the doorbell rang. Blake took Mila’s hand in his, and they headed toward the towering front door. As they ventured into the foyer, they noticed that either Thao had grown a couple of inches or someone else stood on the opposite side of the frosted glass double doors. And next to that person was another person who had some sort of hat on his or her head. Blake grasped both knobs and opened the doors.

  A man and a woman stood before them. The man wore a traditional embroidered kimono, and the woman wore a vintage cheongsam. Speaking first, the man bowed his head then, with gloved hands, held out an engraved crystal sake bottle. “Please join in the celebration of the wedding of Blake Brendan Baldwin to Mila Ali. To mark their special occasion, here is a bottle of our most expensive sake.”

  Blake took the bottle. “Thanks. Count me in. If there’s more alcohol.”

  “Aw.” Mila’s eyes misted as her fiancé removed the rice paper invitation surrounding the bottle. The invitation boasted a location in Tokyo, the perfect date, and time of the wedding.

  Next, the woman stepped forward. She bowed her head as well, before giving a similar spiel. She provided Mila with a silk box.

  “Thank you.” Mila took the top off the box. Inside was an oriental lily. Atop the lily was another invitation. This one outlined a different location but with the same time and date.

  “Wow! But you said you needed a couple of days.” Mila gushed, looking past the man and women at Thao. He stepped forward, wearing another colorful suit.

  “That is true, but the two of you have an aura about you that was contagious. Anyhoo, I do not prefer to leave much to the imagination, except for you, sir.” He nodded to Blake. “You won’t be able to see that beautiful dress anytime soon. But tell me,” he clasped his hands together, “which invitation package were you more int
erested in? The man? The woman? You can have both of them for the delivery or separate. That is top of the line sake by the way. Each invitation, although different, is encrusted with gemstones.”

  Mila sniffled back tears. “I love it.”

  “Once I open this bottle, I can tell you which I prefer,” Blake said. He kissed Mila’s forehead.

  “You knew.” She grinned.

  “Yes, baby, I knew. I just had to surprise you to determine if you liked it. Which one? Whatever you like, Mila, my love.”

  “The lily. But I thought the sake was gorgeous.”

  Thao spoke up. “Your rich, sweetheart. There is an infinite number of possibilities. We will do the lily. We can also have sake as a keepsake at the wedding, perhaps with a token poem on the bejeweled paper instead of the invite? Something that attests that the two of you have loved each other to the end of the world. I haven’t forgotten the story about Mila’s attempt to climb Annapurna.”

  “You are wonderful.” Mila deftly wiped more tears away.

  “Now, as you will see, both of the invitations have different locations.” Thao opened his man purse and pulled out a tablet. “With the time constraints, I have videos with panoramic details of each one. We can have the chefs flown to you, for food samples, but we ought to choose a destination post haste because we can’t send the invitations without a venue.”

  BLAKE

  Due to the social media bans in parts of China and Japan, Blake brought in his Japanese marketing specialist, Phan, who not only provided a wealth of knowledge on the laws but identified social precursors and traditions. Phan would be just the guy he needed to make sure his company was ready to present to Kiyota and start a partnership.

  Phan’s chair turned left to right as he slowly took in the information. His facial expression was blank, fingers steepled together, as Donald stood at the front of the room before a presentation screen.

  Blake tried to keep his mind on the matter at hand. They were talking about adding to his billions, yet he couldn’t get his mind off how humble Mila was, and her total satisfaction in the wedding venue that they had ultimately chosen.

  The room grew quiet, and Blake realized that Donald had finished his pitch. Phan sat forward in his chair and shook his fists into the air. “Let’s get this shit started!”

  The room went into an uproar of happiness. He shook Blake’s hand. “I have a few tweaks to make, but, Blake, you are the man! Together, we will make money. Kiyota would be a fool not to listen to the proposal.”

  For the entire room, this was a moment to celebrate. Blake nodded toward his secretary, who headed out of the room to grab bottles of chilled Dom Perignon.

  Mila

  After running her errands and being bombarded by pushy people who had Kohl’s Cash to burn, Mila fought the lunch hour traffic. She sat in her car in the parking lot of her nonprofit organization. With her head against the steering wheel, she took a few cleansing breaths. Then she offered a quick prayer about Blake’s meeting with Phan, for God to help offer her a path for the first annual modeling event at her nonprofit organization and thanked Him for her blessings. She took a moment to catch her breath.

  Feeling a tiny grit of something in her eye, Mila opened the front visor. The mirror descended, and Todd Welsh was there in the backseat of her car. A plethora of scratch marks crisscrossed his face as if a tiger had gotten hold of him. In reality, those had come from shards of glass from having his face pressed into the ground while Blake dished out the beating he deserved. Tears trailed down Mila’s face as his words came to mind.

  Mila’s heart felt like it imploded within her chest. The blood was beating so hard the rush could be heard in her ears.

  “He . . . he’s not there.” She tore her gaze away from the mirror and looked back. The entire area was empty

  With hands shaking and not yet sure of her safety, she dug into her purse for her phone.

  “Stop shaking,” she mumbled out loud. Mila dialed Blake’s number, and each ring settled her heart even more.

  “Baby, Phan says our plan is a go. We will be scheduling to meet with Kiyota by the end of the week.”

  “Oh . . .” she began.

  In the background, a cheerful crowd could be heard as he continued. “I’m going to take you to Ryan’s tonight—that place with the extraordinarily long RSVP list that I don’t give a fuck about and the rooftop restaurant. I’m going to eat your pussy underneath the stars with a crowd around. How does that sound?”

  “Ummm . . .”

  “What’s wrong?” He demanded. “Baby, are you—"

  Mila smiled instantly and spoke with more confidence. “Just smiling at the image you’ve provided.” She fibbed, though her lips were able to pull into a smile with just the thought of her fiancé after such a vivid image of Todd. “As for your question, that sounds like you’ve got it all squared away, Blake. But you did just mention that Ryan’s reservation list includes a year wait, so . . . I think I’d rather we play out the same scenario on the rooftop of some place empty.”

  “No go. You recall that balcony in Tokyo? That was the first time I fucked you outdoors, Mila. I’m outdoorsy.”

  “Whatever, Blake. All that mountain climbing and jumping out of planes has you thinking you’re invincible. But outdoorsy that is not a word for you.”

  “I know. But it made you smile.”

  Happy tears burned her eyes.

  “You were—Mila—were you worried a few minutes ago when you called? Baby, talk to me.”

  Eyes closed, Mila leaned back against the seat. Her heart was no longer beating a mile a minute. Fear no longer navigated through her veins. If I tell Blake, will he want to postpone the wedding? This shit with Todd isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever been through. Mila, get a damn grip, girl!

  The thoughts slammed through her brain in a matter of a second, and then her cell phone beeped. She glanced at it. Lido. Her sister had texted her. With that in mind, Mila threw her sister under the bus. “Just worried about Lido. I can’t see myself being married without both my sisters. You know, they are the first people I have ever laughed with, told about my first kiss, that kinda stuff. But—”

  “Is that my cue to get off the phone? You and Yasmin were a . . .” Blake paused, testing his words. “A pair last week. Whatever is going on, I hope all three of you work together to sort it out.”

  She felt awful for lying but didn’t miss a beat. “We will. Love you.”

  “Dress for Ryan’s, baby, no pants tonight.”

  “Even if it’s freezing?” She giggled.

  “Come rain or storm I’m fucking you tonight—outdoors.”

  “Okay, but you better warm me up.” Mila hung up and read the text from her sister.

  LIDO: My afternoon is clear. Wyd?

  MILA: At my nonprofit. Can you come by?

  Her sister had not attended the grand opening nor had Lido paid her a visit in the two and a half years since The People’s Love Project had started to grow.

  LIDO: I guess. I’ve had a shitty day. Some fucks decided to pull out from working with me due to the heat stroke. What’s the address?

  Mila smirked at her comment. “I guess.” Even when Lido wasn’t trying to be an asshole, she made it hard not to be perceived as one. She shook her head and decided to ask her about the canceled modeling gigs later. After texting the location, Mila got out of the car and opened the trunk.

  “Hey, Mila,” Destiny said from the sidewalk. Lance walked next to her, and the top to the stroller was down, which meant her baby was asleep.

  “Hey, Destiny. Little Man, can you give me a hand?” Mila asked.

  Though his eyes lit up at the thought of helping, Lance’s face became glued to his mother’s hip. “Don’t be shy,” she told him. “You can take her bags. You can help.”

  Mila grabbed a few Kohl’s bags. Each one was too heavy and too long for Lance to carry. He’d end up dragging them around. She opened one bag and took out a pair of Aviators. “Can you
put these on and wear them inside for me?”

  “Yeah!” Lance said, placing the glasses on. “Thanks!”

  “Thank you,” Destiny told her.

  “You’re welcome. I was thinking, I don’t want to exclude the little ones, so we can have some sort of mini modeling competition for them as well.”

  An hour later, in the auditorium of The People’s Love Project, Mila stood on the stage to address all of her workers and the families that came in for services. There was no sight of Lido, and although she was being surprisingly helpful with the wedding plans, Mila had no clue if she’d actually come by.

  “This will be the first annual competition that we have guys and ladies. With that said, I’m learning as we go, there will be kinks that need tweaking. Nevertheless, what I want to be at the forefront of everyone’s mind is this: beauty is not only skin deep, but it’s how you act and the way you carry yourself.” Mila had perfect presentation skills. She moved across the stage, catching many of the people’s gazes. “Now, I have a lil’ something-something for you. A very special someone has come to teach the ladies how to slay. Guys act right.” She laughed. “My friend and supermodel, Veronica Starsgoff.”

  From the side of the stage, Veronica entered the room in a blazer, a white tee, jeans, and ultra-high heels. Blond ringlets draped across her shoulder and were pushed behind those gnarly ears she loved to hate. Placing one foot before the other, she walked along the stage as if she owned it. She introduced herself and mentioned some of her current deals. For about ten minutes, she showed them all how to work the catwalk.

  Many of the boys gave catcalls.

  “Simmer down, guys,” Mila said. “Now, everyone who wants to be in the competition please sign up.” She pointed to the workers on her team who were sitting in the back and identified which worker would help sign-ups for which age range. When Veronica came to stand by her, Mila decided to divulge the truth. “I forgot to tell you. Lido might be coming by. Oops.”