Bridezillas and Billionaires

by Alina Jacobs

  “Take me too!”

  Greg looked up at me. “Please take him. I’m going to throw him out a window.”

  25

  Ivy

  Sophie was anxiously making sure the plates, each holding a different miniature cake, were perfectly lined up along the table for the wedding cake tasting.

  “I hope Imogen likes these,” she fretted.

  “Your cakes are delicious. There’s no way she won’t like one of these,” I assured her.

  “Depending on how many tiers she wants, Imogen can probably have all of them,” Sophie said.

  “Having a giant wedding cake is actually the only reason I’d ever want to get married,” I said with a laugh.

  “Oh really?” Sophie teased as she went to grab a stack of small dessert plates and silver forks. “You don’t want a rich, handsome man to declare his life and love for you?”

  “You make it sound like a romance novel,” I said, chuckling again.

  “Speaking of,” Sophie said in a conspiratorial tone, “have any more half naked men found their way into your apartment?”

  “Er—” Do not think about Evan. Besides, he had all his clothes on last night.

  “Ivy!” Sophie said in horror. “You didn’t.”

  “I didn’t do anything! Nothing happened!” I hissed.

  “Oh…”

  “Oh? Now you sound disappointed.”

  “Well—” My friend made a face.

  “Well what?” I demanded. “You were about to chew me out for sleeping with a client.”

  “Former client,” Sophie said. “He paid up, right?”

  “Yes, but now he’s paying for Imogen’s wedding.”

  “But the contract is with her,” Sophie said, placing a little card with the cake name on it next to each perfect confection.

  “I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to do this,” I said.

  “I’m not encouraging, I’m just saying that if a guy like that wants to use you for rebound sex, well…” My friend shrugged.

  “I’m not just going to be his hookup,” I said, crossing my arms.

  “Be realistic,” Sophie argued as she set the plates and silverware out. “Evan’s not going to fall in love with you and marry you. He’s still reeling from the end of his engagement. He’s literally only good for sex—not emotional support, not a relationship, just hot and heavy sex. That you will give details of to the rest of us who eat too much cake and frosting to fill the giant holes inside of us since we don’t have a dick handy.”

  “Speaking of,” I muttered as Evan walked into the small space and took off his sunglasses.

  “He looks good enough to eat,” Sophie whispered to me.

  “You’re a bad influence.”

  “Of course I’m a bad influence! I’m a baker. I foist rich, calorie-laden cakes on people. I’m basically the devil but wearing a cute apron and carrying cupcakes instead of a pitchfork.”

  Evan sauntered up to me.

  “Eat the cake,” Sophie whispered in my ear and ducked away to rearrange the silver tray of chilled sparkling water.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” Evan said in that deliciously low voice.

  “You know me: if there’s cake, I’m coming,” I joked.

  Evan raised an eyebrow.

  “Not like that,” I said, turning red.

  “So you mean you won’t come if I give you cake?” Evan asked.

  “I mean maybe if you’re wearing it while making me. I mean not you, specifically, but a hypothetical man. Otherwise, cake can’t really make you come. That would be pretty unsanitary.”

  “I’d lick it all out,” Evan said, his fingers resting lightly at my hip as he bent down to whisper in my ear.

  Gulp.

  “Gross! It smells like sugar in here,” Imogen complained, striding through the doorway, large sunglasses perched on her nose.

  Mika hurried in behind her. She smiled at Sophie and me. “These cakes are so pretty! I wish you could just buy little tiny mini cakes. They’re so adorable!”

  Imogen turned up her nose at her half sister. “Ugh, you don’t need any more cake.” She swung her attention to me. “I’m on the kale-and-scallop diet. I’ve lost five pounds in two weeks. Make sure you let the dressmaker know.” Imogen looked me up and down. “You should try it. It does wonders for your physique, and I feel like I have a ton of energy.”

  “It’s her body eating her brain,” Mika muttered to me.

  “Oh man, cake!” Teddy exclaimed, jingling his keys as he made a beeline for the desserts. “Can we taste it?” he asked.

  “Of course!” Sophie exclaimed, excited that he was excited about her cooking. I had been hoping that there would be leftovers, but Teddy seemed ready to devour several of the little cakes by himself.

  “This is the lemon-curd cake,” Sophie explained, cutting a perfectly triangular slice and sliding it on a plate to him and another to Imogen.

  “Oh, I’m not eating that. Mika, you eat it.” She shoved the cake to her half sister, who took a large bite.

  Teddy put the whole slice in his mouth and chewed loudly. “Man, that’s good cake!” He fist-bumped Sophie, who smiled and cut another piece.

  “This one is chocolate sin,” she told Teddy, who gladly ate the next slice.

  Evan looked down at the slice Sophie had given him. He reached for a water, conveniently causing him to have to lean over me.

  “Should I bring one of these by tonight, and we can explore your sex cake kink?” he said under his breath.

  “I don’t have a sex cake kink,” I hissed, trying not to move my mouth.

  “I can be your hypothetical man.” Evan cut off a sliver of the cake with the fork, and his blue eyes bored into me as he slowly put the fork in his mouth then licked it off. My panties were immediately wet; I swallowed and shifted in my seat. Evan smirked at my expression.

  Imogen’s eyes darted between the cakes on the table, and her mouth slowly turned down to a grimace.

  “I just don’t think any of this is acceptable.”

  “You haven’t even tried it!” Mika reminded her, a forkful of orange creamsicle cake halfway to her mouth.

  “Cake disgusts me. I don’t see why you have to have cake at a wedding. It’s my wedding, and I don’t even like cake,” Imogen stated.

  Teddy’s mouth flopped open. “Now wait a minute. This is my wedding too, and I want cake.”

  “The wedding is not about the groom!” Imogen screeched. “It’s about the bride! It’s my day, and I don’t want cake.”

  “You can’t have a wedding without cake!” Teddy yelled.

  “Why can’t we have a fruit platter?” Imogen said.

  “We could make a beautiful cupcake tier,” Sophie offered. “I’ve done that before. We use the same batter and add the filling in the center of the cupcakes. I can decorate them with your logo.”

  “That’s a nice compromise,” Evan said dryly, taking a swig of his water.

  “Oh, who asked you?” Imogen snapped. “You didn’t compromise with Camilla.”

  I nudged Evan before he could blow up.

  “Normally, we do recommend that cake be provided,” I told Imogen. “Otherwise, people will think it’s strange or think you couldn’t afford it.”

  “Cake revolts me.” Imogen crossed her arms. “And if you insist on cake at the wedding, Teddy, maybe there won’t be one.”

  “Immie,” her mother soothed. “You can’t call off the wedding just because of cake.”

  “We can have a cake, and Elsie can make you a fruit platter on the side,” Sophie cajoled.

  “Fine,” Imogen huffed. “We’ll have a cake, but I won’t like it.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Evan said sarcastically. I kicked him under the table. He grabbed my thigh, his hand hot against the bare skin.

  Teddy nodded and cut himself another slice. “I want all of these flavors,” he told Sophie. “And for decoration, can you put Marvel characters on it? Captain America is so a
wesome! I want him all over my cake.”

  “I think you want him all over your cake too,” Evan whispered in my ear. “I could dress up in the uniform and smear cake all over you.”

  I elbowed him in the ribs.

  “I don’t want cartoon characters all over my wedding cake,” Imogen retorted.

  “I thought you didn’t want a wedding cake!” Teddy yelled at her.

  “If I have to have one, it has to look how I want it to look.”

  “But I’m the one who wants it,” her fiancé said, pounding his fist on the table.

  “I can do half-and-half,” Sophie offered weakly. “Like a peel-away.”

  “No,” Imogen snapped. “It’s my wedding. It has to be exactly how I envisioned it.”

  “Have you been envisioning something else?” Evan asked me after his family had left.

  I glanced up at him. Gosh, he was so tall!

  He looked around, took the extra plates that I was going to carry to the back after Sophie, and set them on the table. Then he bent down and kissed me. I could taste the faint trace of chocolate in his mouth. I clung to him as his strong arms wrapped around me. His large hands traveled up my thighs under my dress to cup my ass.

  “You can’t tell me you don’t want me to show up at your apartment,” he whispered as his hands moved to my waist.

  “I really don’t.”

  “Not even if I keep doing this?” Evan asked, kissing me again.

  The kiss was harder, promising more. I moaned against him as his tongue swept my mouth. One of his large hands cupped my breast, teasing it through the black dress fabric.

  “I’ll bring cake,” he growled. “I’ll even dip my dick in chocolate for you.”

  He kissed me again, hard, making me whimper.

  “You’re just what I need,” he whispered hoarsely to me. My heart skipped. “You’re a breath of fresh air after Camilla.”

  My stomach sank, and I remembered Sophie’s cautionary words.

  A man like Evan is just looking for sex, not a relationship.

  26

  Evan

  I was so relieved to have the property issue resolved that I didn’t even mind that I had had to waste my time listening to Imogen complain about cake. I mean, call me a traditionalist, but a wedding should have cake.

  At least there was a nice reward at the end of all of this, I thought, looking down at Ivy in my arms.

  “Do you want to grab a drink?” I asked, pressing kisses on her neck.

  “It’s two in the afternoon!” she said then looked away. “Besides, we aren’t like that, right?”

  Her words stung, but then what had I expected? Ivy had told me that her career was a top priority to her.

  This way is better. Sebastian was right; you need a rebound hookup, not to fall in love.

  I kissed Ivy again. She was all soft curves melting against me. She moaned softly as my hand snuck down to caress her ass, sliding between her thighs briefly before she pushed me away.

  “I’ll just show up at my usual time tonight, then?” I murmured against her mouth.

  “We cannot have a, well obviously, we would never have a relationship, but we definitely are not doing this hookup thing,” she warned, adjusting her dress. “We need to maintain a professional relationship.”

  “So a professional relationship, like I need to keep my tie on when I fuck you?” I teased.

  Ivy’s eyes widened.

  “I can tell by the way you’re looking at me like I’m a big, thick slice of wedding cake that that’s exactly what you meant,” I said, my breath hot against her neck. I pressed a kiss there then straightened my tie and suit jacket.

  “Ivy?” The baker came back into the room, and Ivy jumped.

  “Let me know when you want to continue our very professional discussion,” I told her with a wink.

  Ivy wanted me, that was for sure, I decided on the way back to my office. Maybe not for a relationship, but then what had I expected?

  Sebastian: I heard you were out with Camilla last night???

  Sebastian: WTF dude!

  Evan: It was just to get the property from her father. He wanted me to have dinner with her. I’m not getting back together with her.

  Sebastian: Cool cool, I just thought she might have trapped you with promises of a hot and heavy evening then the next thing I know you’ll be planning a baby shower.

  Evan: I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb.

  Evan: Besides, I’ve got Ivy.

  Sebastian: I hope that’s a rebound and not a sex doll or an escort service.

  I clenched my fist, suddenly irrationally angry at the perceived insult.

  Evan: She’s not like that she’s a respectable woman.

  Sebastian: Dude chill. She sounds like a great rebound.

  That’s all she is, I assured myself as I walked into my hedge fund’s headquarters.

  “Mr. Harrington,” the receptionist called after me. “There’s a guest in your office.”

  “Is it one of the Svenssons?” I asked, wondering why she looked so nervous.

  “No, it’s your father.”

  Fuck.

  My dad was waiting in my office. Actually, he was sitting in my chair at my desk, with his feet on my expensive imported Italian blotter.

  “You have some nerve,” I told him.

  “I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” my father said, pulling a flask out of his coat pocket. “The sex wasn’t even that good. And if you think about it,” he said, swinging his legs off of my desk, “I did you a favor.”

  “Camilla was my fiancée.”

  “You can’t be seriously angry about this,” my father scoffed. “If anything, it’s your own fault for letting her act that way. And now you’re compounding the problem and making us all look bad by carrying on with this grudge of yours against me. I’m your father!”

  “And I am paying for all your condos, your vacations, and your own daughter’s wedding,” I interjected. “Meanwhile, you’re screwing my fiancée behind my back!”

  “Don’t you forget,” my father said, jabbing a finger at me, “that you wouldn’t be anything without me. That was my mother’s inheritance you used to jump-start this hedge fund. And I gave you a roof over your head and food to eat all through your childhood.”

  “Congratulations. You did the bare minimum,” I told him bitterly. “You know, all through this, I was wondering, ‘What was he thinking?’ But as per usual, you were just thinking about yourself. I should just wash my hands of you. Get out of my office. I have to work. I’ve already wasted most of my day with Imogen and her wedding.”

  I slumped at my desk after my father left then forced myself to sit up straight. Greg had sent me several documents to look through on the property deal.

  At least now you can drop out of the wedding and have more time to be in the office.

  I suddenly missed Ivy. Except she didn’t seem all that ready to invite me into her bed, let alone her life. Though I had been considering dropping out as man of honor, I’d lose my connection with Ivy. And the thought of not seeing her again left me feeling oddly hollow.

  27

  Ivy

  When Evan didn’t show up that night, I wasn’t sure if I was glad or upset.

  It’s for the best. As nice as it had been to make out with him, that was as far as I could allow myself to go.

  My mother’s words haunted me. A teen mom, she was always afraid I would, as she put it, make a life-altering bad decision. She never failed to remind me that she had sacrificed for me. Her emotions were all over the place as well. One minute, she would flop on my bed like we were besties and ask me about boys I liked; the next she would be screaming at me that I was a lying slut when all I really did was sit at home and flip through bridal magazines and daydream about meeting my Prince Charming.

  You do know someone tall dark and handsome…

  Evan is no prince, but he is charming.

  I needed to cut Evan out cold turkey.
The only problem? Planning Imogen’s wedding, I was around him constantly.

  “I seriously need an office,” I said with a sigh as I walked into the lobby of Mika’s condo building.

  Meeting at people’s houses was ridiculous and unprofessional. Weddings in the City played it off as being more convenient for clients, and I was sure most clients did prefer that we meet them at their homes or offices. However, I still wanted office space to legitimize us. The clock tower penthouse would be perfect—all those windows, the unique space. Plus, it was in a hotel building that had a conference center in it, so it wasn’t like inviting someone to a residential apartment complex.

  Dreams, meet empty bank account. I’m sure you two will get along well.

  “You still haven’t figured out how you’re going to pay not one but two mortgages,” I chided myself. “Focus on surviving this wedding and getting paid!”

  But my not-Prince Charming, with his height, his shoulders, and the washboard abs under that perfectly tailored suit, was going to make that difficult.

  Evan inclined his head when he saw me enter the elevator lobby. “Ready for the never-ending wedding-planning saga from hell?” he asked with that sexy, crooked smile.

  “Weddings are lovely, and I’m sorry that you’re such a marriage Grinch,” I said, trying to ignore the part of me that was jumping up and down, begging Evan to kiss her. “I personally try to extend a certain amount of grace to the bride, as I know it can be a stressful time.”

  Evan snorted as he swiped his keycard to call the elevator. “Do you ever lose your cool?” he asked me, eyes slightly narrowed. “Or are you always Ms. Professional Planner?”

  “I have at least a wedding a weekend,” I said, positioning myself on the opposite side of the elevator from Evan. “I have to make sure everything is perfect for the brides.”

  He leaned against the wall and regarded me. “So you never want to pick up a handful of wedding cake and throw it at one of them?”