Jillian helped her get to her feet. Then she went to find Troy, Douglas, and Narek. The three were in the den, tuning up the mansion’s surveillance system. A cupboard with an array of TV screens with panels showing the exterior of the mansion, various hallways, and the foyer. Lex had said the place was wired better than Fort Knox. Funny how it didn’t make her feel safer than when she was with him. He was her shelter, not human gadgets that could fail if someone switched off the electricity.
“My grandmother is ready to go back to the city,” Jillian told the men.
“Troy, take the back seat with Mrs. Petrosian while Narek rides shotgun. In the meantime, start the car and adjust the air temperature before we bring her outside,” Douglas said. He was already walking toward the door and didn’t see Troy’s reaction. For a second, Jillian was sure Troy would tell him to go screw himself, but he composed himself and a smug smile settled on his lips.
Douglas was still treating Troy like he’d broken some code. She accompanied Troy outside and waited until he started the car before asking, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the car. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow. Douglas said to pack light. Do you know where you are going? He didn’t tell me.”
Jillian grinned. “That’s funny. I didn’t know you and Douglas were coming.”
For a moment, Troy just stared at her. “You are a nice person, Jillian.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I don’t know where this is coming from, but thank you. You are nice, too.”
He scoffed at the idea. “No, I’m not. I wish I…” He sighed.
“What?”
“It’s nothing. I’m sorry.” He looked over her shoulder and straightened. Jillian turned to see what had caught his attention. Douglas was back with her grandmother and Estelle. The hug the two women exchanged was warm and comfortable.
Douglas’ phone rang just as he and her grandmother reached the SUV. He walked a few steps away to answer it while Troy settled her grandmother in the back of the car.
Cursing drew her attention to Douglas. He was usually so calm. She approached him. “Hey.” He looked flushed under the security light. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Ms. Jillian. Go back inside the house, please. We’ll take your grandmother back to the hotel. Please, go inside,” he added when she hesitated.
She waved to her grandmother. Instead of joining the women still talking in the living room, she headed upstairs. It was only eight, but she crawled into bed. Sleep didn’t come easily.
She thought of calling Lex just to hear his voice. She missed him, despite being surrounded by his scent and things. Apprehension and excitement vied for dominance, making her edgy even though she was tired.
A car started and moved toward the gates. God, she hoped that was Vivian leaving so she wouldn’t have to see her smug face in the morning at breakfast. The mothers and their flower girls were spending the night here. According to Lex, the main part of the mansion had six bedrooms, while Estelle’s quarters on the other side had two extra bedrooms, which were just enough for everyone. Still, she really hoped that was Vivian’s car leaving.
The others came upstairs and settled in for the night. Everyone was going to bed early. The house grew quiet, yet sleep still eluded her.
She turned on the TV and looked for something boring to watch. Documentaries usually lulled her to sleep. She flipped through the channels and stopped to watch a rerun of an earlier NASCAR race. Then she found something she’d missed while filming. MotoGP—Motorcycle Grand Prix road racing world championship. Some of her favorite bikers were competing. She watched and tried to keep it down as she cheered.
Leeds should consider creating a custom bike for MotoGP. It could give the company a serious boost in the industry. She’d mention it to Lex. They already built Superbikes. With a little tweaking, they could enter Superbike World Championship.
A car drove up, and Jillian knew Douglas was back. She glanced at her watch. An hour and a half had passed since he’d left. She would be in la-la land by now if she’d gone for a documentary. Instead, she was wide-awake and wired after watching some of her favorite bikers compete. Before Lex, she’d try to catch up with the races. She’d even attended Formula One and MotorGP in Austin, Texas.
A knock came on her door, startling her. Jillian jumped up and went to answer it.
“Ms. Jillian?” Douglas whispered just before she opened it.
She grinned. “Hey.”
“I just want to inform you that I’m back. Should you need anything, I’ll be downstairs in the den.”
“Thanks, Douglas. Goodnight.” She closed the door and started across the room, then pivoted on her heel, hurried back to the door, and opened it, but Douglas was already gone. She went to the bathroom, grabbed one of Lex’s luxurious tarry robes and shrugged it on, then headed downstairs.
Douglas didn’t seem surprised to see her when he opened the door. “Still can’t sleep?”
She gave him a sheepish grin. “No. How did you know?”
“Your TV was on when I drove up.” He stepped back. “Come in.”
She recalled the first time she’d entered this room with Lex. Who would have thought she’d fall in love with him weeks later. The kiss should have warned her. The memory of that first kiss came back with clarity along with the moment his mother almost saw the wads of cash he’d offered her to be his fake wife. Now all she wanted was to be his real one. His love. His heart.
Her eyes fell on the pillows and a blanket on the couch. “Lex keeps these in here for you?”
Douglas chuckled. “No. Mrs. Fitzgerald brought them this evening. I usually use one of the bedrooms.”
Jillian shoved her hand in the pocket of the robe and rocked on her heels. She glanced around the room before coming back to Douglas. He was closing the cupboard with security screens.
“What happened to Troy?” Jillian asked.
“I dropped him off at his place to pack and get ready for tomorrow. He’ll be here first thing in the morning. He mentioned a stylist coming to see you. Simi. He’ll be here to verify his identity. Please sit.” He walked to a cupboard and pulled out a poker set. “Do you play?”
Relief coursed through her. She’d do anything rather than go back upstairs. “Oh yes. My father taught me how to play the regular way and the other way.” She rubbed her hands. “Be ready to get trounced.”
“The other way?”
“The Finnegan way.” It involved tricks and treachery. Her father had refused to call it cheating, but basically that was what it was. All bets were off whenever she and her brothers played, and the winner was often the one with the most skilled hands.
He chuckled and placed the set on the table. Jillian slid off the couch and sat on the floor. She picked up the cards. “I’ll deal. Five-card draw?”
Douglas eyed her for a bit, then nodded and distributed the chips. She distributed them each five cards, and they made the same bet.
He was a good player, an honest player, and she beat him soundly in two games, but the third time, he came back swinging. Put up a good fight too, but Jillian wasn’t her father’s daughter for nothing. She stacked the deck, dealt from the bottom, palmed and marked her cards.
“I don’t know how you did it, but there’s no way you beat me honestly,” Douglas said, folding. “What exactly is the Finnegan way?”
“One last game. You deal.” This time, she played a clean game. When she won, he sat there scowling.
“How did you do that? I watched your every move,” he griped.
She chuckled and stood. She’d used the first three games to study his “tells”—the way he betted and his demeanor when he had a good or a bad hand.
“If I told you my secret, I’d have to kill you.” Douglas shot her an annoyed look. Jillian laughed. She’d finally gotten a reaction from the man.
“We must have a rematch,” he said, walking her to the door.
“Sure, but I wa
rn you, I’ll still win,” she shot back. She was still grinning when she crawled in bed upstairs. She would show him in a year or two.
This time, sleep came easily.
CHAPTER 16
Surprisingly, Jillian woke up fresh and energized the next morning. She stretched and walked to the window to admire the majestic view of the Pacific Ocean. Below, people were hauling things from huge trucks, setting up the north lawn for the wedding.
It was her wedding day! Yikes.
Jillian ran back inside just as a knock came at her door. “Come in.”
Jade walked in with a cup of coffee. “Morning,” she said in a singsong voice. “Douglas said you might want coffee to wake you up since you guys were gambling until the wee hours.”
“Midnight is not wee-hours, and thank you.” She took the mug and hugged her. She liked Lex’s sister. She was warm and sweet. She was an art historian professor and had some weird heart defect, but that didn’t stop her from doing what she loved, like participating in archeological digs. “Do they want me downstairs?”
“Oh no. The workers are busy setting things up, and I’ll bring you breakfast shortly. Shower. Take your time. I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Oh, your hairdresser just arrived. Tell Douglas to chill when you see him. He treated the poor man and his assistants like they’d just escaped San Quentin.”
Jillian smiled and nodded, but she was telling Douglas no such thing. Paul Warwick was in San Quentin, and anyone could be working for him. “Is Troy here yet?”
“I haven’t seen him.”
After she left, Jillian called his number, but it went to his voice mail. “Simi is here, and you are not. Hurry up before Douglas kicks him out.”
Jillian showered then tried to eat the breakfast Jade had brought, but she couldn’t swallow. So she nibbled on toast and wandered to the next bedroom, where the bridesmaids were getting ready. Ginger was helping Sophia get dressed first while the other three focused on themselves.
“You’re supposed to be getting ready,” Elena scolded her. “I’ll be there to help you.” She was the matron of honor, but Jillian didn’t expect her to hold her hand or anything like that.
She went back to her room just as Douglas brought Simi and his assistant upstairs.
“Hello, sweetie,” Simi said. “Are you ready for… Oh my.” He’d seen her gown on a form by the couch. He approached it as one would a famous painting. “This is exquisite. Please, I have to see you in it.”
“Just remember, no pictures,” Faith said, entering the room. “You can take one neck up for your portfolio, but that’s about it. Do you have a business card?” she asked, and the confused hairdresser fumbled through a pouch around his waist for one. “I’m always signing up different hairstylists for each Fashion Week. I’ll call you next week for an interview. Have a video portfolio ready.” She turned to Jillian and smiled. “I promised Elena I’d help, so anything you need, I’m here for you. I’ll start by getting this out of your way.” She scooped up the tray and swept out of the room.
Simi stared after her, then at the card. The next second, he pulled Jillian into his arms for a big hug. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Except sing his praises yesterday and on their flight back from Vancouver.
“You introduced me to Faith of Falasha Designs, sweetie. Doing your hair is already opening doors for me. Doors I’ve worked my tail off for twenty-years and didn’t even budge. Fashion Week, oh my.” He clasped his hands together and gave an unmanly squeal. “Okay, enough of this, Simi. Get to work, woman. Where’s the bathroom?” He turned around. “Wow, loving the décor and the view.” He walked to the window. “One day, I want all this. The house. The view. The wedding. How many famous people are coming?”
“None,” Jillian said, heading to the bathroom. “This is a private affair, just family and friends.”
“Hmm-mmm,” he hummed in disbelief.
From then onward, things happened fast. Simi finished with Jillian’s hair and face, while his assistant videotaped the whole thing. Then he got his headshots, including a selfie with her. Faith made sure they stored their cameras and left their phones in their car after that. She hadn’t been kidding about no pictures.
The room grew crowded once Jillian finished getting dressed. The bridesmaids, the flower girls, and their mothers joined her. Outside guests started arriving in high-end sports cars and limos. The valet directed the drivers or parked. Security around the compound was tight. Ashley already told her that Noble Security, her husband’s company, was in charge. Some of the Noble employees acted as valets while the others directed the guests to the lines of chairs arranged in front of the wedding arch.
Jillian didn’t know anything about weddings, but she knew what a colonnade arch was from a movie she’d worked on a year ago. She loved what Estelle had done with the white arch and the chairs. The arch was decorated with different flowing fabrics ranging from white to aqua-blue. Gorgeous flowers decorated the upper corners and the spaces between the four columns. A blanket of white petals covered the carpeted aisle between the rows of white and aqua-blue sashed chairs. Along the aisle and on the outside were short columns with urns of flowers. A lot of whites with yellow and blues with splashes of red, which she was sure were her grandmother’s ideas. Armenian weddings were colorful.
It was perfect. Jillian was definitely getting her dream wedding. Why then was she nervous? Like she expected the other shoe to drop. Her stomach churned, and her mouth was dry. She was close to throwing up.
She wanted to call Lex. See him. Hell, she wanted to look out the window every time a limo pulled up to see if it was his. Faith must have noticed her nervousness and constant glances outside because she sent the flower girls to keep an eye out for their daddies, then winked at Jillian. The woman was scary efficient.
The children stood on the balcony and waved to those they knew. Sophia, refusing to be overshadowed by the older girls, was right there with them. She knew most of the circus people they’d invited and supplied names and what they did in detail.
“Is that Daddy’s limo?” they’d ask and peer down until the occupants stepped out.
“Who is that?” was for those they didn’t know.
Jillian knew when her family arrived because Sophia yelled, “Daddy! Grampa!” Then she tried to take off. Poor Ginger had to explain to her why her Daddy would have to wait to see her special princess dress and shoes. In the middle of the pouting and whining, Lex must have arrived, because the Fitzgerald flower girls weren’t too thrilled either about waiting.
“It’s time,” Estelle said, entering the room. She glanced at Faith and Jade. “Escort Sean and the flower girls downstairs, and have them wait by the entrance.” She touched her grandchildren as they walked past her. “Remember how we practiced last night?”
“Yes, Grandma,” the two older flower girls said.
“You are next. Go take your positions, ladies,” Estelle added, directing her words at the bridesmaids. They picked up their flowers and left.
She waited until everyone left, and then she focused on Jillian, fussing with the veil and straightening the skirt of the dress. She was nervous, too. Jillian never pegged her as the nervous type.
“Ready?” Estelle asked.
Jillian nodded, not sure how to begin thanking her future mother-in-law for all she’d done and was still doing. “I am. Thank you for everything. I don’t know if this”—Jillian waved toward the window—“would have happened without you.”
“I didn’t do it alone. Your grandmother is a formidable woman when she wants something, and it didn’t hurt that people have been reading about you and her. Besides, I couldn’t help myself. You’re marrying my oldest son.” She rubbed Jillian’s arm and grinned. “Come on. Let’s not keep Lex waiting.”
Estelle stayed by Jillian’s side until they reached the top of the stairs. Then she harrumphed and muttered, “Wait here, sweetheart.”
Jillian wasn’t sure why she took off, u
ntil she looked down and saw her father talking to Chris. No, not talking. Arguing. Her father kept shaking his head and gesturing wildly while Chris tried to calm him down.
Somehow, Jillian had known something would happen to ruin her wedding. This was it. Of course, it had to involve her father. She closed her eyes and counted slowly backward from ten.
She wasn’t going to get angry. No, sirree. Not today. Today was her day, the beginning of the rest of her life with Lex. And she refused to let anyone ruin it.
Estelle reached the two men and said something. They looked up at Jillian with guilty expressions. Her father hurried to the foot of the stairs, his face still flushed.
“My Jilly,” he said in a wobbly voice. “Your mother would have been proud to see you like this.”
Disaster avoided or postponed? Jillian wondered, her eyes following Chris as he left the house. What were they fighting about?
Jillian reached her father’s side, took his arm, and whispered, “What’s going on, Dad?”
“Nothing to worry about. You look…” Tears filled his eyes, and Jillian’s throat closed. “Beautiful, and you’ll always be my little princess.”
“Always.” She kissed his cheek. “And Daddy?”
“Yes, Jilly?”
“If you ruin my wedding, I’ll restart the new and improved Fearless Finnegan Troupe with Hollywood stuntmen and women, and you won’t be invited to join.”
He laughed. “Fitzgerald would never let that happen. He has my permission to put you under house arrest if you try to pull something like that.”
“Now, now, no time for this,” Estelle said, coming to stand in front of Jillian. “Lex would never do that, but he will march in here if you’re not out there in the next few minutes.” Then she disappeared outside.
Jillian looked at her father. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Daddy!”
“I’ll never be ready to give you away, Jilly, but I figure if I don’t, you’ll just elope with the man. He better treat you right. By God, he better, or I’ll make him pay.”
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