InHap*pily Ever After

by Kim Desalvo

  “You’ll find out eventually, but for now, it’s all part of the surprise.”

  “Oh my God, this is unbelievable. Are you busy Saturday afternoon? Want to go dress shopping?”

  “Actually, I’ve got a few people sending over some sketches…for all three of us. I’m hoping to get some in the next week or so. Would you be available to go for an initial fitting next weekend if I see one I really like?”

  “Oh, I see,” Lexi teased. “So you’ve got people now? Like actual designers? The ones who make dresses for the stars?”

  “The very ones,” Tia smiled shyly. Dylan had been right—top name designers were calling Jessa every day begging to make her wedding dress, knowing that pictures of it would be all over the news and the magazines. Tia imagined people asking, ‘Who are you wearing?’ She never in a million years thought that would be a question she’d ever be asked. It was actually a little much, in her opinion—she knew it was going to cost a small fortune and her mind hadn’t yet come to terms with the fact that she was now a wealthy woman. She would have been fine with a regular dress from a normal bridal shop, but she also knew that if she went that route, she’d have to deal with a lot of unwanted attention and the chance that someone would snap a photo of her in her dress and sell it to the media before the wedding. In the end, it was just easier and less stressful to put it in the hands of a professional. Plus, it was exciting to know that she’d be wearing a dress that was one of a kind and made just for her.

  “I can definitely do that. Just let me know what time.”

  “Then maybe after that we can shop for invitations—I need to get those real quick. Or at least, “Save the Date” cards.”

  “Sounds great,” Lexi said. “I still haven’t found the ones I want yet, and I need to get those rolling too.”

  Ryan just wanted to sink into his seat and disappear. The longer he sat and listened, the more insignificant he felt in the company of his own fiancé and her former school teacher best friend. Here he was, sitting down to a hundred-dollar-meal and drinking champagne that cost more than that, and no one else was even batting an eye. He made a good living; and it would get even better when he finally made partner, but he’d never be able to give Lexi carte blanche to hire designers to make her dresses or wedding planners to handle all the details. They were paying for the wedding themselves—he was expecting the guests to give him money, not providing them with an entire weekend of festivities on his dime. A sick feeling sloshed around in his stomach and his forty-five dollar steak suddenly felt like a rock.

  Less than a year ago, Tia was scraping and saving just to be able to afford a long weekend in Punta freaking Cana. Lexi often picked up her tab when they went out somewhere on the fancier side, as she knew that Tia was also paying the mortgage on her tiny little house and didn’t have a lot left over for extras. Now the tables had completely turned, and he wondered how Lexi would take it when the realization sunk in that he was never going to be able to give her what Tia had. No matter how hard he worked, he was never going to be a multi -millionaire. He felt really out of his league here, but Lexi was looking pretty damn comfortable. He glanced at his watch, wondering how much longer this evening was going to drag on, or if anyone would notice if he just left.

  Chapter 25

  Ryan barely slept a wink all night. When his alarm went off at five, he could hardly peel his tongue off the roof of his mouth and it felt like someone was using a jackhammer inside his skull. He knew at the time that it was a stupid move to down two more glasses of champagne in the limo on the ride home, but he just couldn’t stand listening to Lexi going on about wearing a gown—that’s what she called it, a goddamn gown-- made by an actual famous designer when he knew damn well she’d gotten her own wedding dress off the rack.

  He downed three aspirin and drank about a gallon of coffee, but he just couldn’t get himself moving, and was five minutes late for his seven thirty meeting. It was impossible to miss the cold stares from the partners when he rushed in, out of breath. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open much less focus on the discussion, and Wes had to kick him more than once under the table when his eyelids simply refused to stay open and he dozed off. When the meeting finally ended, he rushed to his own office, hoping to lock the door and catch a quick nap so he could make it through the rest of the day.

  “Victoria Damon here to see you, Mr. Stallworth,” Shannon, the secretary, yelled at his fleeting figure.

  Shit, he thought. Since he wasn’t allowed to handle any of her legal affairs, he could only venture a guess that she was here in regard to their meeting the night before; and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. His head was still pounding, and the coffee had gone right through him—he really needed to take a piss. “Tell her I’m in a…” he opened the door to his office and saw her seated there, a shiny designer bag that matched her outfit centered perfectly in her lap. He turned and glared at Shannon over his shoulder, giving her a look that indicated they’d be speaking about this later. She just shrugged at him, raising her palms in the air to indicate she’d been left little choice in the matter.

  He sucked in a breath and pasted on his best smile, willing his bladder to hold out for he hoped would be a very brief encounter. “Ms. Damon,” he said as brightly as he could muster. “How nice to see you again.” He shook her limp hand and moved behind his desk, taking a seat.

  “And you as well,” she answered. “I trust you enjoyed your dinner last night?” Ryan noticed that she didn’t invite him to be on a first name basis as she had so quickly with Dylan.

  Enjoyed wasn’t exactly the word he would use, but he held the smile and nodded. “I did, very much, thank you.”

  “And your company,” she added. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Dylan Miller.”

  Ryan couldn’t resist the opportunity to one-up her snobby assumption that he wouldn’t have friends in high places. He tented his fingers under his chin and smiled wider. “Yes, well, my fiancé is going to be the maid of honor at their wedding. They just got back into town, so we were celebrating their engagement.” Pull that out of your high society ass and choke on it, he thought as he remembered how she’d turned her back on him and refused to acknowledge his presence once he’d made the introduction to Miller.

  “Yes, I recognized your fiancé from After Dark,” she replied. “Tia and Dylan are such a lovely couple. She’s a lucky young lady.”

  Ryan’s bladder was uncomfortably full, and he was in no mood for small talk. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with your file, Ms. Damon, but if you’d like to give me an idea of what you need, I can be up to speed in a day or two and set up another meeting with you then.”

  “I’m not here to discuss my file, Mr. Stallworth,” she said shortly. “I’m here on more of a personal matter, actually.”

  Ryan squinted, gritting his teeth. Before last night, there wasn’t anything personal in the world that ‘The Demon’ could possibly want to discuss with the lowly lawyer who wasn’t even allowed to peek at her company’s files. But suddenly, after seeing him hanging out with Mister Hot Shot Rock Star, she was in the mood for a friendly chat. There was only one possible ‘personal’ reason that she’d be calling on him, and he was immediately offended. His first thought was that she was going to invite him to the charity auction in the hopes he might convince Dylan to go along with him. He wanted to tell her that they had no personal relationship and that she could feel free to hustle her narcissistic ass out of his office as fast as she was able to move, but she was one of the firms top clients, so instead, he pressed his lips together and said, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll cut to the chase,” she said. Ryan expected nothing less, based on her reputation. She wasn’t exactly known for small talk.

  “Please do,” he said, fighting the urge to squirm in his seat.

  “First off, I did a bit of research last night and discovered that Dylan has his own charity dedicated to helping c
hildren. I’d like to set up a meeting with him personally to discuss how we could be of assistance to each other and further both causes.”

  Ryan frowned. “Wouldn’t you need to speak to the people who run the actual charity?” he asked. “Obviously he has people taking care of the details.”

  “I would think you’d know that’s not how I work, Mr. Stallworth. I only deal with the people at the top; not the help. I did have some of my assistants look into that this morning, but it didn’t seem at all that they’d be able to set up a direct meeting. Since you’re such good friends and you can easily vouch for my reputation, you can eliminate the middle man and set something up for me. I can work around his schedule, of course, and would be willing to go to him if he’s unable to come to me.”

  He was hardly good friends with Miller—he barely knew the dude, really. But he wasn’t about to let The Demon know that. “I appreciate your faith in me, Ms. Damon,” he answered, “but unfortunately, Dylan’s got an incredibly busy schedule and isn’t looking to put anything more on his plate at this time. He’s only going to be in Chicago for a short while before he’s due out west to start work on the next InHap album, he’s getting married, and then he’s got a tour this summer. Plus, the drummer for his band was in a nasty accident and he’s been spending a lot of his free time with him, helping him along with his recovery.” Ryan didn’t know if that was true, but it sounded good, anyway. “I wish I could help you,” he lied, “but I really don’t see that I can. Dylan’s a very busy man, especially these days.” As if he’d ever lower himself to the point of begging Dylan to meet with her. Yeah, right.

  “I see. Yes, I can certainly understand that he ‘has a lot on his plate,’ as you put it, so perhaps I’ll try again when things settle down for him. There is another matter you could help me with, though,” she said.

  Ryan raised his eyebrows. He could actually feel the walls of his bladder reaching the breaking point, and really wanted to get her out of his office so he could make a beeline for the restroom. “What’s that?”

  “Well, I would very much like to attend the Millers’ wedding,” she said with the same expressionless face she’d use to discuss a business merger or acquisition. “Perhaps he’d be more likely to meet with me once we’ve developed a bit of a social relationship. Surely you could do me that small favor.”

  Small favor? Ryan could almost feel his mouth hanging open. He stared at her for a moment, wondering if it was actually possible that she’d really just asked him that question and then said, “Excuse me?”

  “Since your fiancé will be standing up in the wedding, there’ll likely be an odd number at your table. Certainly as such a close personal friend he wouldn’t mind if you brought one extra guest.” She must have gotten a look at the incredulousness on Ryan’s face because she lowered her nose, putting her eyes at Ryan’s level, and her voice dropped. “I give a great deal of business to this firm and have never had to lower myself to asking for favors. I don’t see any other connection to the families, however, so I’m here to ask for one now.”

  What…the…hell? Ryan thought. Is she serious? But he only had to look at her pinched-up smirk to know that this was no joke. She really thought that even if he was a ‘close personal friend,’ that put him in a position to affect the guest list for their fucking wedding? He took a deep breath, counted to ten, and hoped to hell that what he was about to say wasn’t going to come out the way he meant it. “I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Damon,” he said, biting his tongue between words, “but as you know from your own work, people are invited to a wedding at the sole discretion of the bride and groom, and not their guests.” It was time to fess up. “I mean no disrespect, but I really don’t see any way I can help you. My fiancé and Tia are great friends, but I’ve really only met Dylan a few times—no one except for Lexi even knew that he and Tia were a couple until a month ago, and then they were only here a few days before they went to California, New York, Australia…”

  “I know where they’ve been,” she said. “And now that he’s back, I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of them both. All you need to do is to ask if you can bring an important guest…”

  “It’s not my wedding,” Ryan insisted. “I have no control over their guest list.”

  A slight smile turned up the corners of her lips, and Ryan felt the ambush coming before she even spoke. “Ah, well, I guess I should have expected that, and you are correct—it is the bride and groom’s decision—you know that well, don’t you, as you’re no doubt working on the guest lists for your own wedding.” Ryan knew instantly that he’d been had. He should have seen it coming, but instead he fell in headfirst. “I assume that Tia will be standing up in your wedding as well, which will leave an odd number at Dylan’s table. Can I expect to be seated there?”

  Ryan bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood, but it didn’t even begin to cover the bitter taste that was already in his mouth. What could he say to that? The Demon actually smiled then, her face seeming to crack where the skin so rarely folded, and he had a vision of reaching across the desk and grabbing her by the throat in much the same way she now had him once again by the balls. She was using him, and had no qualms whatsoever about doing it.

  What was with people and their obsession with celebrities? He’d been too pissed off believing that Lexi had slept with Miller to be in awe of his fame when they’d first met, but he was already sick of the way people fell down at his fucking feet everywhere he went and the way everyone else was pretty much invisible. Or maybe it was just him who ceased to exist whenever Dylan Miller shared the same space. Either way, it sucked to be Ryan Stallworth. Anger bubbled up in him and his bladder threatened to explode, but he couldn’t let The Demon see how tightly she was clutching his nuts.

  “I can’t make any promises, Ms. Damon, as family and friends have to be seated first,” he said quietly, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I’ll look forward to hearing from you then,” she said, handing him one of her gold cards. “You can contact me directly at that number,” she said, and she stood up and walked out without another word, leaving Ryan dumbfounded and completely pissed off.

  He meant to have words with Shannon before he hit the toilet, but he saw one of his own clients seated in the little waiting area, and had to hold his tongue.

  “Miss Van Dyke here to see you,” she said coldly, giving him a dark stare.

  The woman who’d been sitting jumped up and offered Ryan her hand. “I don’t have an appointment, Ryan,” she said, “but I was in the neighborhood and hope you’ll do me the courtesy.”

  Donna Van Dyke was young, good looking, energetic, and successful; thanks to her parents handing over their company. She had a reputation as a party girl, though, and she spent money like it was going out of style. Ryan had done a lot more than manage her company’s finances over the past three years; he’d had to help her with her own, as well. No matter how many ways he laid it out for her, he just wasn’t able to make her understand that she couldn’t spend the company’s cash on her own indulgences. Donna refused to take no for an answer if there was something she wanted; whether it be a car, a boat, a vacation, or a business venture. The fact that she showed up without an appointment probably meant that he was going to have to do some financial juggling—she had that familiar gleam in her eye; the one she got when she locked onto something she simply had to have. He shook her hand, and motioned for her to go into his office. “Of course Donna,” he said kindly, “come on in. I’ve just come out of back-to-back meetings and need to use the restroom. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” He offered her a drink, then made a beeline for the men’s room.

  He couldn’t believe the exquisite agony as he released the aching muscle and emptied his bladder. Piss on you, Demon, piss on you, he thought as he tried to tame down the anger that coursed through his veins at the nerve of Victoria Damon; who did a hell of a job living up to her nickname. He took his time washing his hands, splashing some cold water on hi
s face to ease the burn there and took a few deep breaths before returning to his office and an actual client.

  “Ryan,” she began, taking a small sip of her mineral water. “I need your help.”

  “Anything,” he said with a smile. “You know that. I’m at your service.”

  “This is a little unconventional…I have a bit of a personal business proposal for you, actually.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We’ve known each other a lot of years, Ryan, and you’ve helped me out a great deal. I want you to know that I consider you a friend.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Donna.” A friend? he thought. As if.

  “So,” she began, “One of my friends told me that your future wife is best friends with Dylan Miller’s fiancé. Was she really the only one who knew they were a couple? She didn’t even tell you?”

  Like he needed to be reminded of that. “They didn’t even tell Tia’s parents,” he said. “It was all very hush-hush.”

  “Oh, how exciting! Is it true that your fiancé and Tia will be standing up in each other’s weddings?”

  Shit! he thought. Seriously? Another one?

  “Yes. They’ve been friends since middle school,” he said, working hard to keep his cool. There was no use lying about it—like everything else Miller, it would be public knowledge soon, if it wasn’t already. “She’s the maid of honor.”

  “Oh my gosh; I really, really, want to meet him,” she said, uncharacteristically capricious. She’d always at least tried to maintain a professional demeanor when she was in his office, but apparently, where Dylan was concerned, it was all out the window. “I’ve been a huge fan of his for like ever, and I’m prepared to offer you a generous wedding gift if I can attend, and an even better one if I can sit at his table.” She paused for a moment. “I’m prepared to offer you five thousand dollars for a seat next to his.”

  Ryan held his breath and bit his tongue to avoid saying all the nasty words running through his mind. Now he was being bribed? By a client? He couldn’t believe the nerve, but once again, he had to maintain his cool even as he was about to erupt on the inside. He exhaled slowly through his teeth before speaking.