“Thanks.” Relief washed over Kynley. Compared to many performers, her costumes were quite modest, with only the occasional bare shoulders or short skirt. Jilted Storm had made their reputation on their music, but Sebastian seemed to think the music was secondary to pushing the sexuality … her sexuality.
She gave her fluffy robe a longing pat, then squared her shoulders. “I’d better get back out there. At least we only have to get through today and then we get a few days off. I can’t wait.”
The break had been a source of contention with Sebastian. When Kynley had received the invitation, she’d insisted the final show of the tour be delayed. Now, instead of going home to Los Angeles and then to the concert in Denver with the rest of the band, she was headed to Asheville, North Carolina. There was no way she’d miss her friend Erin’s wedding.
Chapter Two
Dalton Parker poked his head around the doorway of the bride’s room. “Is it okay if the favorite brother sees the bride? You can tell me how handsome I look.”
Erin let out a little squeal. “Yes, as long as you aren’t spying for Matt.”
Dalton stepped inside and shut the door firmly behind him, as if to prove there would be no unauthorized peeping Matts trying to sneak a look at his bride before her big reveal.
He stood for a minute, looking at her. Erin had always been pretty, but today she was, well … breathtaking. As cliché as it sounded, there wasn’t a better word to describe his sister. She’d softened her usual rose gold hair color to more of a golden blonde and it fell in loose curls around her face. The skirt of her white dress billowed around her legs as she sat at the vanity table finishing her makeup. The dress twinkled with beads, but none of them shone as brightly as Erin’s eyes as they met his in the mirror.
“Wow,” Dalton breathed. “You look fantastic. Matt’s a lucky guy.”
“I’m the lucky one,” Erin said softly as she turned to face him. “I can’t believe I almost let him get away.”
Dalton knew Matt and Erin had had a rocky courtship, but you’d never know it to see them now. He’d never seen two people more in love and when he watched them together, the phrase “you complete me” seemed less like movie trivia and more like a fact of life. Matt and Erin complemented each other perfectly—she brought excitement and passion to Matt’s levelheadedness, while he provided the steadying force in Erin’s somewhat tumultuous, emotional makeup. Whatever they had, it was certainly something he hadn’t found yet. It was hard not to be a little jealous, actually.
“Almost ready?” Dalton asked.
“So ready. But we still have fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to line up.” Erin gave him a critical look. “Aren’t you supposed to be out there behaving in a gentlemanly manner to my guests?”
“Yeah, but I had to see you first,” Dalton said. His voice caught in a sudden rush of emotion. “In case I don’t get a chance to say it later, I’m really proud of you, you’re gorgeous, and I love you. And you’re still a colossal pain in the butt,” he added, determined to keep things from getting too mushy.
She chuckled, and her dress rustled as she stood to wrap him in a hug. “I love you too.”
Dalton squeezed her gently, afraid of messing up her dress or her hair, but she swatted him on the shoulder. “Hug properly, you dork.”
He tightened his grip and swallowed against the tightness in his throat. They were grown-ups, for heaven’s sake. She was twenty-seven and he was twenty-nine. Life moved on, right? And this was the natural order of things, with the possible exception that, as the older brother, he should have been married first. But despite knowing that Erin marrying Matt was absolutely the right thing to do and the best thing that had ever happened to her, Dalton still felt a stab of melancholy. He and Erin were so much alike—both dreamers, where their younger brother Christopher had always been more practical. As kids, Topher had held himself apart and it had usually been Erin and Dalton against the world. He’d always felt like she was his—in a big brother protective way. Now she wouldn’t be anymore.
“I’d better let you finish getting ready,” he said as they pulled back from the hug. He picked up her comb and ran it through his brown hair, trying in vain to make it lie flat. His hair was, for lack of a better word, unruly, and seemed impervious to gels, mouses, and creams. It pretty much did what it wanted and short of shaving his head, he was at a loss on how to make it “more respectable,” as their mother called it.
“Want some hairspray?” Erin asked, pointing to a bottle amid the clutter on the marble vanity top. It was bright pink and covered in a pattern of silvery flowers.
“Is that bubblegum-scented hair spray?” Dalton wrinkled his nose.
“It’s freesia,” Erin said loftily. “And it’s supposed to be seductive.”
Dalton put the comb down and held up both hands, palms out. “No thanks. If there’s any seduction going on today, that’s between you and Matt. Mom will have to deal with my obnoxious hair.”
“Oh, there’s going to be seduction,” Erin replied, giving him a smoldering look. “I can promise you that.”
He fled.
The Elyn Art Gallery was the perfect place for Erin and Matt’s wedding, especially because of the huge water wall made from blown glass that sat at the back of the room. A glass artist himself, Matt had loved the idea of getting married in front of the wall, with the sparkling glass and flowing water forming the backdrop. And of course, the setting appealed to Erin’s sense of drama.
Dalton paused at the end of the aisle and looked around. Guests were filling the rows of white folding chairs, assisted by his brother, Christopher, and the other groomsmen. Their mother was nowhere to be seen—probably still getting ready—but their father sat in the front row, deep in conversation with one of his company executives. Dalton groaned and was tempted to duck out of sight. If their father saw him, he’d probably beckon him over and a prolonged discussion about web analytics and click bidding was the last thing he wanted right now.
“Excuse me.” A female voice broke into his thoughts, and he turned.
They were almost eye to eye, but as he glanced down, he saw it was thanks to her red high heels. Without them, the top of her head would probably brush his chin. Her hair was very long and black at the top, but gradually faded to silvery at the ends. Her eyes were dark gray and rimmed with long, dark eyelashes that set a strong contrast to her clear, pale skin.
For a moment Dalton froze, overcome with a sense of recognition. He knew this woman. His mind churned, trying to remember where he’d seen her before, or, failing that, trying to come up with something clever to say.
“Um … hi.” Oh, great. Very smooth. “Do you need help finding your seats?” he asked quickly.
“No, thank you, we’re over there.” She pointed, and Dalton realized the “we” in her statement meant the man who hovered at her shoulder, looking at least a decade older with pale, thinning blond hair and a pointed nose.
“You’re in the way,” he said briskly.
Dalton stepped smartly to one side and barely resisted the urge to salute. The woman flashed him a quick, slightly apologetic smile as they passed. She wore a simple black dress that reached her knees, and she was skinny. Too skinny—narrow waist, thin arms weighed down with silver bracelets, legs like toothpicks balanced on the tall heels. She moved gracefully, like a dancer. The faint flowery smell trailing behind her was quickly overpowered by the stronger musky cologne of the blond man.
As they moved toward their seats, Dalton became aware he wasn’t the only one watching. Other guests were noticing the girl, some craning around in their chairs or even standing up. A couple of phones raised, and he heard the click of cameras. So she was someone famous; maybe one of Erin’s Broadway friends?
“Kynley!” A squeal went up as the girl reached her row, already filled with people, mostly couples. There was pandemonium as several of the women stood and jostled toward her, and the noise swelled as they exchanged hugs and greetings. Dalton
had helped some of them find their seats earlier and knew they were the Camp Wallakee girls.
He grinned. Erin had attended Camp Wallakee, an exclusive girl’s camp, almost every year as a teenager and had made some good friends. She’d let some of those friendships slide when she got too old for camp, but from the packed row and the chattering girls, the connections appeared to be reigniting, as if the Billionaire Bride Pact had started some kind of revival. Erin had told him about the stormy night at camp when they’d all taken a pact to marry billionaires. From the way most of the women were dressed and the size of the diamonds on their fingers, it looked like many of them had fulfilled the pact, and the men sitting by their sides were, if not exactly billionaires, at least very well off. He took another look at the beaky little man who accompanied Kynley. He must be her billionaire.
“Dalton!” Topher called from the doorway. “C’mon, we’re almost ready.”
Dalton turned to see the bridal party forming in the room off the gallery. After one last look at Kynley, he turned to find his place in line.
Chapter Three
Kynley gave a small gasp as Lindsey Asher crushed her into a hug. “Oh my goodness, look at you. I hardly recognized you. I mean, I would have, because I’ve seen you on YouTube, but if I hadn’t and happened to pass you on the street, I’ll bet I’d have walked right by. Not meaning to, of course,” Lindsey finished slightly breathlessly.
“It’s good to see you too,” Kynley said with a smile, looking down the row at all the faces, older and more mature than she remembered, but still recognizable—Lindsey, Alyssa, Nikki, Taylor, Holly, Maryn, MacKenzie … had it really been ten years since she’d seen most of them? She’d been to Camp Wallakee a handful of times in her teenage years, but this was the first time she’d seen this group together since they took the Billionaire Bride Pact. Several of the girls had married over the past two years, but Kynley had been unable to make it to any of the weddings. She glanced at the girls again with a stab of regret. They all seemed to be enjoying the easy camaraderie of old friends. She should have tried harder to attend the weddings.
Speaking of weddings … “This is Sebastian, my manager,” she said quickly with a nod toward him, anxious to head off any speculation.
Sebastian gave the row a curt nod, and Kynley fought back a wave of irritation as they took their seats. When she told him of Erin’s wedding, he’d insisted on accompanying her, even though she’d assured him she was perfectly capable of traveling alone. She’d planned to fly commercial, but Sebastian booked a private jet.
He’d also insisted Carl and Marco come along, and now her two security guards waited outside the gallery like a couple of wannabe secret service agents. Sebastian had wanted them by her side, but Kynley put her foot down. She wasn’t about to come prancing into her friend’s wedding surrounded by armed security; there were far too many curious looks in her direction as it was, and she hadn’t missed the people taking pictures.
It was the hair. She’d toned down her makeup, but maybe she should have put her hair in an updo to hide the silver, or better yet, worn a wig. But that wasn’t who she wanted to be, especially with this group. She wanted to be real, genuine. The times they’d spent at Camp Wallakee were some of her favorite memories and she didn’t want these girls to think of her as a D-list celeb who thought she had to travel in disguise.
“How many of you are married now?” she asked Nikki, who sat to her right. To her left, Sebastian had taken the aisle seat and was doing his best to look like the whole situation was beneath him. Kynley decided to ignore him.
“Um, let’s see …” Nikki wrinkled her brow in thought. “Alyssa, Maryn, Holly, and MacKenzie are all married and Taylor and Summer are engaged. Oh, and me; I’m married too.” She grinned and put her hand on the knee of the man sitting next to her. “This is Darrin.”
Kynley sent Darrin a friendly smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding. I was on tour,” she told Nikki. “But I got the bracelet. Thank you so much.” She held out her arm, where the silver Tiffany bracelet Nikki had given all the girls nested among several other bracelets and bangles. It had a charm featuring the Camp Wallakee symbol rendered in diamonds—three feathers, standing for faith, loyalty, and love.
“You’re welcome.” Nikki beamed. “I’m glad you got it. I wasn’t sure where you were living, so I sent it to your parents’ house and hoped for the best.”
“I have an apartment in LA, but I live mostly in hotel rooms.” Kynley managed a small laugh, but felt a dart of shame. She’d meant to call Nikki and thank her for the bracelet, but it had been relegated to the “when I’m not so busy” list she never seemed to get to.
“Lindsey has been telling me about your band,” Nikki said, shooting a glance at Lindsey, seated farther down the row. “It’s so exciting!”
At the mention of the band, Sebastian perked up. “The video for ‘Intended Consequences’ just hit sixteen million views on YouTube,” he told Nikki in a tone of smug superiority, as if he was solely responsible for the success.
“Wow, that’s great.” Nikki smiled politely, but Kynley could tell the numbers meant very little to her.
How would that be? YouTube had given Jilted Storm its start, and even now the band made a significant portion of its profit from ads linked to their videos. They tracked subscriber and viewer numbers daily, sometimes even hourly when they released new content, and there was constant pressure to produce something bigger and flashier that would get more attention, more likes, and more shares.
“I’m surprised so many of you are married or engaged,” Kynley said, changing the subject.
“Well, it’s about that time, isn’t it?” Nikki replied. “Everyone’s reaching a point where they’re ready to settle down.”
Kynley nodded noncommittally. The idea of settling down wasn’t something she thought about very often. For her, the future was decidedly unsettled. Jilted Storm had one more city on the tour, then a hard push to get a recording contract. And once that happened, who knew? More albums, more tours, and more fame. She didn’t see a home and husband or children in her future for a long, long time.
Which was fine. Performing was what she’d always wanted to do, and she loved every minute of it. Well, almost every minute. She could do without the freezing cold video shoots or the bickering among the band members or the all night recording sessions, but the fans were wonderful and the thrill she got from being onstage never faded.
Music began playing and the crowd hushed. A few moments later, the wedding party started down the aisle, led by the man Kynley had seen earlier—the one who had been blocking the aisle.
She thought her reaction to him had been nerves, the anticipation of meeting up with the camp girls again, but that was not entirely it. Not if her stuttering heartbeat had anything to say about it.
His light brown hair was mussed, as if he’d run his fingers through it after it’d been combed, forgetting it was supposed to stay pristine. His nose was a bit on the long side, but it suited him, balancing the squared jaw and the jut of his cheekbones.
He was tall—they’d been almost nose to nose with her four-inch heels—and his gray tux jacket was tight across the shoulders, hinting at a well-toned physique. The woman on his arm was obviously his mother, radiant in a pale yellow dress.
So this was Erin’s brother. She had two? Or was it three? Kynley tried to remember; it had been so long since they’d talked.
The man’s eyes flickered to hers as they passed and for just a moment, everything else seemed to fade as they made eye contact. His eyes, she could now see, were a deep, loamy brown. The kind of eyes you could get lost in.
Kynley found her head turning, seemingly of its own accord, to watch as he escorted his mother to their seats. She leaned slightly to see around the people in front of her and saw that from the back, Erin’s brother had hair that curled slightly over the stiff white collar of his dress shirt. And there was something else, a brief flash of color on
his neck when he turned his head. A tattoo? Her heart did a stutter-step. Not that she was wildly attracted to tattoos, but it hinted at a different side of this guy beyond the stiff formality of the tux.
The pastor signaled for the audience to stand as Erin stepped around the corner with her father. Kynley couldn’t help but take a deep, happy breath. Erin made a perfect bride in a ruffled white gown with a heavily beaded band at the waist and a bouquet of yellow roses.
They made their way down the aisle to an instrumental version of “All I Ask of You” from Phantom of the Opera. Matt waited at the water wall, handsome in a black tuxedo. The look he sent Erin made Kynley’s heart melt with happiness for her friend, but also a small dart of … not envy, but wistfulness, maybe? She’d never had a man look at her that way.
And now maybe she never would. In the great irony of fame, as Jilted Storm had become successful on the world stage, Kynley’s own world had shrunk. Friends had dropped by the wayside as she was too busy to maintain relationships, and the motives of any potential boyfriend material were automatically suspect. Were they interested in her, or in her fame and money?
There were plenty of offers. Men sent her letters, flowers, jewelry, and photos—some of them very inappropriate—all the time. But she didn’t want that kind of relationship, and the thought of casual hookups made her skin crawl. She wanted something real, something pure, like Erin and Matt so obviously had. But as she’d become more famous, she’d also become more isolated. She performed all over the world in front of thousands of adoring fans, and then went home alone.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian hissed at her side.
The Glamorous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance Page 2