Phuong stopped sipping her coffee. "I already have shoes. We should get the rings next." She ducked her head. "If we're still going ahead tomorrow."
"Why wouldn't we be? I'm not backing out. Are you?" He stared at her in panic. She couldn't do that to him. Not her. She wouldn't be that cruel.
"Of course not. I just...this is all so fast. It's hard to believe that tomorrow we'll be...married."
"Sure is. Can't believe my luck," he replied cheerfully. Thank fuck for that. "Jewellers. Dampier Terrace. Just down the lane. They'll have what we need." And a wedding present for her, too. He crossed his fingers and hoped he'd gotten this one right.
The first shop wasn't as much a jeweller as a pearl showroom, with huge display cases of jewellery, loose pearls and all sorts of things made out of mother-of-pearl. Including a selection of caviar spoons, sitting in a polished oyster shell dish. As if anyone would use such a tiny spoon. Actually, the hotel manager, Meier, might. Ah, but the manager wasn't Meier any more. It was that angry English chick.
But she didn't matter right now. Nobody did but Phuong, who'd headed straight for the section with the most spotlights directed on it. He might not be an expert at marketing, but all that time spent on stage had taught him a thing or two. The spotlights focussed the audience's attention on where you wanted it to be – on the star, the singer or, on the rare occasion, the soloist. Whatever that display held, it was the crown jewels of the shop's collection.
He hung back and watched. Phuong peered through the sparkling glass, then her eyes widened. She took a step back. Her attention turned to a nearby case that was only slightly less well-lit. A moment later, she stiffened and walked away.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Jason turned and met a familiar face. Now, if only he could remember when...
"Did she send you back for the matching bracelet after all?" The woman smiled. "We still have it." She gestured toward the second display unit Phuong had rejected.
This was where Jo had bought her necklace. A strand of round, silvery pearls. Smaller than the plastic necklace in the dress shop, but...
"No," he replied. "I want something that goes with this." He held open the dress bag. "And a ring to match. Do you have men's rings?"
Her smile widened. "Come with me, sir." She led him to the display units set into the counter.
Jason glanced at Phuong, who was intent on the contents of a cabinet on the opposite wall. He'd check those in a minute. Ring first.
"These are the men's rings." She lifted out a tray that held fewer rings than he had fingers. "See anything you like, sir?" She tilted the tray.
One of the rings winked at him. Well, that's what it looked like. On closer examination, he realised it was a gold-coloured stone set in the band. "What's that?"
"A champagne diamond from the mine up north, near Lake Argyle. Our jeweller likes to source stones locally," she said smoothly.
Champagne diamonds. They sounded right for a wedding. Celebrating and all that shit. Jason nodded. "Yeah. That one. Show me women's rings with those, then."
Of course, there were dozens of those, all winking and sparkling at him like they knew he was out of his depth. Fucking rocks. Time to call for help.
"Hey, Phuong. Which one of these do you want?"
The startled shop assistant recovered quickly, hitching her smile back into place. "Is the young lady with you, sir?"
"Yes." Phuong's soft voice behind him didn't sound particularly certain.
"Yes," Jason repeated, with a pointed look for the woman. "Show her the rings. And the necklaces, too. Just like the one I bought my sister."
"Your sister?" She tittered and winked. "Ah, yes, sir." She pulled out her keys and headed for the necklace cabinet.
"Do you bring all your girlfriends here?" Phuong asked.
Jason couldn't stand the sadness in her eyes. "No. The only time I came here was with my sister. My real sister. The one who used to steal my Lego blocks when we were little so she could build stables for her toy ponies. Now part owner of Romance Island Resort, though I still own the rest." He sighed. "She understands business better than I do. Been to uni and all. Got her degree. She helped me out when I first took over the place. She said she wanted pearls as payment. I swear she picked the most expensive necklace as payback for those ponies."
"What did you do to them?"
"Don't remember. I grabbed my blocks and the ponies and hid them. By the time she noticed, I couldn't remember where I put them. They're probably still hidden in our parents' old house." He grinned at the memory.
"My brother used to steal my toys, too. I always knew his hiding places, though, so I got them back again later."
A thought struck him. "Do you want to invite your brother to the wedding tomorrow? I can arrange flights."
"No!"
Her vehemence surprised him. He opened his mouth to ask more, but the woman returned with several necklaces and a tray of rings, so he closed it again.
Phuong stared at the rings for a long time, until Jason finally lost patience and pointed at the biggest, most ostentatious one he could see, all pearls and sparkly bits tangled in what resembled gold seaweed. "Try that one on," he insisted.
The monstrous ring covered half her finger, right up to her knuckle. Jason burst out laughing. Phuong cracked a smile as she took it off.
"How about that one?" She pointed at a delicate ring set with one tiny pearl.
"No." He bit his lip. "Maybe you should pick a necklace first. Something to go with your dress."
The shop assistant edged one forward, still fastened around the neck of the headless velvet display stand. "This is the finest white pearl strand in the store at the moment. With exceptionally high lustre, as you can see – "
"We'll take it," Jason interrupted.
"No." Phuong shook her head violently. "I can't."
Jason didn't understand. "Are you allergic to pearls or something?"
She shuddered. "No. That necklace...the price of that necklace is more than my university fees for a year. Fees, board, everything. I can't wear something that expensive around my neck when there are better things to spend the money on."
Jason shrugged. "So pay your fees. You got my credit card. Let me know if you need more. I'll sort it out." He turned back to the shiny things laid out on the counter. "So, are you going to pick a ring or make me do it?"
FORTY-ONE
The next hour passed in a daze for Phuong. She slid ring after ring on her finger, seeing the sparkle of an endless procession of diamonds until Jason held one up that he insisted suited her best. She nodded, too stunned to argue.
Her uni fees – he'd pay them, just like that. No need for citizenship, the wedding, any of it...except that the only reason he'd given her the money was because tomorrow she would become his wife.
She had to tell him. She couldn't take his money like that when there was no need. And when she came clean, maybe he'd tell her why a man like him was looking for a partner on an email-order bride website.
He wasn't Norman. He was nothing like Norman. Everything would be okay, she told herself as her stomach churned in consternation.
"I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Breakfast feels like forever ago. Have you ever had chocolate chip pancakes?" His boyish grin was contagious.
"No, I haven't," she whispered.
"Too hot to walk, so we'll get a cab." He hailed one and she climbed into the back seat. A few minutes later, the taxi came to a halt. She staggered out again into cloying heat. Gentle hands righted her. "Don't worry, I'll get you inside with a cold drink in just a minute."
Dizziness blurred her vision as Jason half-carried her into coolness, followed by hardness as his arms gave way to...wood? A chair cradled her while Jason knelt on the floor at her feet.
"Drink, baby."
Something hard pressed to her lips. Damp. Drink. She gulped down the water, feeling some of it running down her chin, but she didn't care. With coolness came clarity. They we
re in a restaurant with dark wooden floors below and whizzing fans overhead. Just like some of the old places back in Singapore.
"Better?" Jason asked, his forehead creased with concern.
She nodded limply.
He rose and took the seat across the table from her. "When did you last eat?"
Phuong thought hard. "Dinner?"
He tapped the menu in front of her. "Pick something. Anything. You need to eat."
She had to tell him. Stomach twisting, threatening to throw out anything she put in it until she told him. "Not hungry."
Jason waved a waitress over and ordered something, but Phuong wasn't listening any more. Not until his hand touched hers did she dare to raise her eyes to his face.
"What is it? What did I do wrong?" he asked. "Everything was fine until the jewellery shop and then you went all distant. So tell me what I did wrong."
"Nothing. You did nothing wrong," Phuong responded, but her voice sounded dead. "It's just...you don't need to pay for my fees or buy me expensive jewellery. You don't need to do anything for me."
"But I want to."
She tried again. "I created a profile on that website because I needed an Australian husband to help me pay my fees so I can finish my degree. This would be my final year and I don't – "
His smile died. "You don't have the money. You already told me that. So you're marrying me for my money, is that what you're saying?" So cold. Now he was the distant one. She didn't blame him.
"No. All I wanted was an Australian husband. One who could help me get my citizenship so I could get a government loan. It would take a couple of years, but I'd still be able to finish my degree. I'll be a good wife, I swear..."
One warm hand enveloped hers, stopping her from wringing them.
"But that's two years of your life. It sounds like pretty poor pay for two years, however light the work. So if I give you the money for your university fees now, no strings attached, what will you do? Will you go home, go back to university? What?" His eyes captured hers. She couldn't look away.
Tears filled her eyes. "I don't know," she whispered.
"Do you want to marry me?"
"Yes." This came out louder, firmer.
Those honey eyes examined her soul, weighing it, as she desperately hoped she wouldn't be found wanting.
"Pay it now." He pushed his phone across the table. "Go to your university website, and pay your fees with my credit card. The one I gave you this morning. Do it."
She stared at him, stricken. "I can't take your money like that."
"Then I'll go back and buy those pearls for you. Or I'll call the university and have a scholarship created with your name on it. Just do it."
With shaking fingers, she swiped through several screens until she found the phone's web browser and logged into the university's payment page. She lost count of the number of times she had to backspace before she'd entered the credit card number correctly. Seconds passed while the payment processed, then a message popped up, telling her the payment was accepted. "It's done." She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "Thank you so much."
"Show me." He held out his hand for the phone and she surrendered it. He checked the screen, nodded, then tucked it back into his pocket. "Right, it's not hypothetical any more. You've paid for your degree. That's not an issue any more. Now, what are you going to do?"
"I still don't know, because it's not just about me," she said steadily. "What about you? Why did you create a profile on an email-order bride website? If we go ahead with this wedding tomorrow, what do you want out of this marriage?"
"I want my wife to be happy," he said simply.
"There must be more than that. A reason, something driving you to...it can't be that simple! Life isn't that simple."
Jason shrugged. "Why not? I believe I can make you happy. I'll do my best to keep you that way. I know you'll make me happy. Happily ever after, just like the fairy tales. Yeah, they leave out a bit of the detail, but it's essentially the same. I went on that website looking for a woman who believes in fairy tales. I found you. It's fate, Phuong. Let's follow it and see where it takes us. I promise I'll make sure you enjoy the ride."
Phuong didn't know what to say. Fortunately, she was saved by a waitress carrying two plates of pancakes.
Jason waited until the woman left before adding, "Marry me tomorrow. Not for my money, not for my citizenship, but because you're willing to give us a shot at happiness together with the whole fairy tale."
She held his gaze for what felt like forever. This was the offer of a lifetime. No matter how much it scared her, she had to follow her heart. "I will."
FORTY-TWO
Jason rapped on Phuong's door, curling his lip at the pathetic sound of his knuckles tapping glass. Now, if it had been a proper wooden door, he could've produced a much more manly knock, the sort that echoed through the room and announced his presence. One that said, "Your husband is here," instead of some pathetic loser whose knock sounded like an apology for his very presence.
Kind of like the difference between tapping your glass with a knife to get a room's attention or just raising your voice and letting out an almighty, "Oi!" He wasn't one to pussyfoot around, but he didn't want to break Phuong's door, either. She was just so fragile, ready to shatter into a million pieces if he did the wrong thing. And he didn't intend to screw this up. It was his wedding day, for fuck's sake.
He tapped again. "Phuong? It's me. This is your morning wake up call, like I promised. Even though it's not really morning any more. Your chariot awaits, so I've come to collect you and escort you to – "
The door slid open with a blissful sigh, and Jason could see why.
Her eyes looked bigger, darker, but warmer, too, like he'd done something right yesterday, and that's why she'd stayed. Could she want this as much as he did? He sure hoped so.
Strawberries. Her lips looked like strawberries, ripe and sweet and firm...fuck, he hadn't even kissed her yet. That was going to change. Today. Today, he'd taste her.
Taste...and touch. The silken skin at her throat and the slight swell of her breasts at the neckline of the dress, before the red fabric hid the rest. That perfect dress...demure and kind of old-fashioned, covering everything from her shoulders to just past her knees, but hinting at curves he couldn't wait to see, to touch, to stroke and hear her cries of pleasure as he...fuck.
She'd worn the red heels. The red Cinderella heels from the day they met. The ones he'd dreamed about every night since. Just him and her and those...
"Jason? Are you all right?"
He shook himself. "Yeah. Fine. It's normal for a guy to have porn-quality fantasies about his bride on their wedding day. Especially with you looking so fucking beautiful in that dress." He wanted to ask about the underwear she had on, but her rosy blush stopped him. He could imagine it for now, and see if the fantasy lived up to reality later. He'd savour every moment, too.
"Thank you," she mumbled.
They stood there awkwardly for a long moment before Jason's brain booted up and he said, "Um, the helicopter. Chariot. Whatever. Anyway, it's waiting on the helipad for us. Apparently it's all dolled up in wedding bows and stuff, so everyone at the hotel and the pearl farm knows we're getting married today, but they swear no one's told the press. We better get going before that changes."
Phuong paled. "Yes." She hurried off. Jason found he had to jog to keep up.
"There's the blushing bride," the pilot shouted as he came into view. He burst out laughing. "You're gunning for the headlines in that dress. I can see it now: 'Rock Star Marries Asian Mail-Order Bride'."
Phuong stopped dead. "What...what do you mean?" She stared at her skirt.
"Red dress, covered in envelopes?" Shou snorted.
"I didn't...didn't think..." Phuong's hands flapped in panic, like she was trying to hide as much of her dress as possible. "I have to get changed!" She darted away, but Jason stood squarely in her way, blocking the helipad gates.
Jason addr
essed the pilot: "There aren't going to be any headlines, right, mate? The resort's privacy policy means no press." After Shou's nod, Jason placed his hands on Phuong's shoulders. "Baby, I love you in this dress. Please don't change."
Her tensed-up shoulders, braced hard enough to charge down a football pitch, dropped as she exhaled so rapidly it looked like she'd been punched in the guts. Fearful eyes regarded him.
"If you say so," she said colourlessly, then turned and climbed into the helicopter.
Fuck. What had he said wrong this time?
FORTY-THREE
Shou landed the helicopter on a grassed oval, the goalposts at either end marking it as the local football field.
"The church is over there." He pointed at a clump of trees, through which Phuong could just see a cross poking out the top. "I'll wait here until you're done."
"No, you won't," Jason said. "We need witnesses. You're one of them."
Shou gave an exaggerated sigh as he jumped out of the cockpit. He threw open Phuong's door, bent in a deep bow and offered her his hand. "Anything I can do for the lovely lady."
Jason rolled his eyes, but Phuong smiled, resting her fingers lightly on Shou's palm as she stepped onto the grass. She smoothed her skirt, maybe taking a few more strokes than necessary, but she was too nervous to stop. If she could only stop her hands from shaking.
Jason slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. Somehow, his light touch had uncorked a bottle of champagne in her blood, making her lightheaded. She needed Jason's supportive arm to walk the hundred metres to the church, where they were met by a middle-aged man in priests' robes and a younger, similarly dressed man that he introduced as a seminarian, a student priest.
Phuong found her hand gripped in a surprisingly firm handshake from the priest, before Jason received the same treatment.
"Shall we?" the priest said, leading the way into the church.
She stepped inside the old-fashioned, white building and gasped. Instead of the dark interior she expected, it glowed in colours that brought the Kimberley environment inside. Terracotta tiles and red-brown timber pews formed the foundation underpinning the walls of beach-sand cream and shallow-sea aquamarine, but everything she saw was only the background setting for the most prominent feature of the church: everything was decorated in glittering shells. The tiles were edged with shells. The windows and all the pictures were framed in shells. The microphone podium was decorated with a religious design made out of shells. And the altar...well, all three altars, if you included the main one and the two smaller ones on either side of it...were inlaid with hundreds of oyster shells, each one as big as her head, the nacre catching the light and throwing it back in coruscating rainbows across each pearly surface.
Rock Star's Email Order Bride Page 14