The Rock Star's Wedding

by Demelza Carlton

  FIFTY-THREE

  "Are you an Australian citizen?"

  "What do you think is the biggest challenge facing the hotel industry today?"

  "What's your view on diversity in the workplace?"

  And so it went, until Xan was sick of answering questions. Job interviews weren't the worst thing in the world, and she'd done enough of them to be good at them, but she'd never like them.

  This time, though, she was the only candidate, and she knew it. Which meant that while she was trudging back to Jason's apartment, exhausted by the interrogation, they called her to offer her the job. Wary of being duped like Meier had managed to, she asked for them to send her contract and job description through for her to peruse at her leisure. She also asked for a tour of the hotel they wanted her to handle before she gave them her answer.

  The documents were emailed through almost instantly, while the tour was arranged for the following day.

  Xan found herself almost breathless at their efficiency. So different to the laid-back resort life in Broome. Was she even up to that kind of pressure?

  She wasn't sure, and the next morning didn't offer her any answers, either. It was a lovely hotel, but it was a lot like the apartment block where Jason lived. Big apartments with grand views of the city and the harbour, but not much else. It didn't have any of the unique attributes that made Romance Island Resort pretty much sell itself as an ideal holiday destination. The tropical aquarium in the lobby only made her homesick.

  In fact, when she returned to Jason's apartment that afternoon, she was determined to find somewhere to snorkel, even if the weather wasn't looking good. All she needed was a wetsuit and she'd be fine.

  Except Jason had arrived home early, too. "How'd it go?" he asked.

  "Great."

  "So you got the job?"

  Xan took a deep breath. "They offered it to me. I have until the end of the week to make a decision."

  "What do you want to do?"

  "Go snorkelling," she answered. When he looked stunned, she explained, "I always feel better after a swim with some fish. With snorkelling, I don't have to worry about dive tables or tanks or anything. It's just me and the fish."

  "You want to go out in that?" Jason pointed out the west-facing window, where storm clouds massed, waiting to attack the city.

  "It's all water," she replied, though the sensible part of her balked at the thought of swimming in a storm.

  "Give me half an hour, and I'll see if I can sort something for you," he said.

  As if rock stars had the power to call off storms, Xan thought, grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge to take to her room. At least she'd brought a book to read while she waited.

  Within twenty minutes, Jason stood in the doorway to her room, almost bouncing in excitement. "I got you a sheltered snorkelling spot. We've only got half an hour, but the visibility's better than anywhere else, and there aren't any jellyfish."

  Of course. He would check for jellyfish, even if Xan knew box jellyfish didn't come this far south. "We?"

  "I'd like to come, too, if you don't mind."

  How could she say no? "Let's go, then."

  Jason led the way toward Darling Harbour, mystifying Xan even further. It wasn't until he walked into the aquarium building that she understood.

  "You figured taking me to the aquarium would let me spend some time with fish? That's sweet, Jason, but it's not quite the same. Walking through glass tunnels isn't sharing the ocean with them. It's – "

  He grinned. "We're getting in. In the tank, with the fish and the sharks and stuff."

  It was the best she could expect, if she decided to move to Sydney this winter. All the ocean snorkelling spots wouldn't be warm enough until spring.

  But for half an hour, she forgot all about buildings and hotels and everything else, while she swam through the aquarium with Jason. Later, when they'd dried off and dressed, and were watching the dugongs through the glass, she thanked him.

  "Any time," Jason replied, and Xan's heart sank once more.

  Every moment she spent with him, she wanted more, but she knew she couldn't have it. It was better this way.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  On their way back to the apartment, they ordered pizza. While they waited for it to be delivered, Jason offered to open a bottle of champagne to celebrate her new job.

  "I haven't accepted it yet," Xan protested.

  "Job offer, then," he said, popping open the bottle and pouring her a glass anyway. They drank it in the living room, watching the storm clouds roll in from the west, glad to be in out of the rain. The wind speeds of this storm matched those of a Category One cyclone back on the island, so Xan was doubly pleased she hadn't gone swimming at the beach in this weather.

  The pizza arrived, smelling so good that Xan stuffed half a piece in her mouth before she'd even found a plate to put it on. Jason just laughed at her, helping himself to a slice.

  "I saw you wore the necklace Caitlin gave you to your job interview yesterday," Jason said between bites. "So you really do like it, then?"

  "It's beautiful," Xan replied. "I'd hate to think how much it cost, but she wouldn't take no for an answer, so I had to accept it. I figured now I have it, I may as well wear it." It had felt like a piece of home around her neck all through the interview.

  They chewed in silence for a while, until they'd finished the pizza between them.

  Jason headed to the kitchen to wash his hands. "I have something else you might like," he said. He dried his hands on the tea towel and disappeared down the passage to the bedrooms.

  Restless, Xan got up and washed her hands, too, but she couldn't seem to sit down again. She knew she had to make a decision.

  If only Jason could've stayed an arsehole. If only the Sydney hotel had a tank big enough for her to snorkel in every day. If only she hadn't fallen in love with Jason, slipping deeper every moment she spent with him. He truly would do anything for her, wouldn't he?

  "Please don't leave."

  Xan turned to find Jason staring at her. "I wasn't. I just got up to stretch my legs." Too late she realised she'd been pacing in front of the door.

  "I know I'm going to fuck this up, but can you promise to hear me out, and if you're going to leave, please don't do it until tomorrow?"

  Now he wanted a promise? "I already said I'm not leaving."

  He wet his lips. Swallowed. Wet his lips again. "Okay. I want to ask...have wanted for a while now...I don't want to lose you. Please, Xan, will you marry me?"

  Xan's breath caught in her throat. It was her turn to stare, to see if he was serious. It truly looked like he was. "This is because of the job, isn't it? You don't want to lose me as your hotel manager."

  Jason snorted. "Right now, I don't give a fuck about the hotel. All I can think about is you."

  "Why?" was all she could say.

  He dragged his fingers through his hair. "Because you're incredible. Awesome. The one, perfect woman for me. The one I'd do anything for. The one who makes me want to do heroic things instead of just fucking up all the time. Because I don't know what I'd do without you. If I lost you. Because I love you."

  Xan's mouth turned desert-dry. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

  He shook his head slowly. "Nope. No one. Not until you. I swear, Xanthe. You're the only woman I've ever truly loved."

  "You're my boss."

  He shook his head again. "I'm not. Never have been. The boss of Romance Island Resort is you, since the day you arrived. If I want to stay at the resort, I have to do what you say, and I have. Mostly."

  Except when it came to putting pants on.

  "What if I want to leave the resort, to take the job here? What if I want to travel?" Xan persisted.

  "Then I'll come with you. Wherever you want to go. I can record music anywhere, give concerts anywhere. You can come on tour if you want, or we can plan a tour to all the places you want to go. Whatever you want, Xanthe, I'll give it to you. Just say you'll be mine." He dr
opped to his knees and flipped open the ring box. "Marry me, Xanthe. Please."

  Somewhere between the way his voice caressed her name and the way his honey-coloured eyes lured her in, Xan's heart melted. He loved her. He wanted her. He was the one man who'd do anything for her, who she'd be crazy to let go. Who cared if he owned the resort? He wasn't really her boss. Nothing else mattered but him, and her, and love.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. "I will."

  He leaped to his feet. "You will?"

  "Yes. I will."

  "Thank fuck for that."

  Xan's laughter died in her throat as he kissed her, just like on the night of Caitlin's wedding. And maybe there were fireworks, or thunderstorms, or curling toes and clenching cores. She didn't care, because right now she was kissing Jason and he was kissing her, and no romance book could compare or even describe it, because this was real and theirs and no one else could share it.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  The next morning, Xan woke alone in her bed, her lips tender from so many kisses the night before. Her memories were perfectly clear, though they felt like a dream: last night Jason had asked her to marry him, and she'd agreed.

  That was all he'd asked, though, which was why she'd slept in the guest room. After lying awake half the night, second-guessing herself, of course. No wonder her dreams had been filled with him – some of them erotic enough to make her blush when she saw him next.

  It hadn't been like that with Jerome, of course. The night she'd said she wanted to travel the world while he finished his studies, he'd demanded that he agree to marry her, so she'd come back. Then he'd insisted they have sex to seal the deal. That hadn't been anything to write a book about – a few minutes of fumbling in the back seat of his car with her head against one door and her knees hiked up to give him room to move, before he'd groaned, stilled and then thrown the used condom out the window. Sex with Jerome had felt like a chore.

  What would it be like with Jason? Like something out of her dreams, a re-enactment of every steamy romance book he'd read? He'd mentioned some sort of tantric sex course he'd done, which meant he had to know more than just the theory of what goes where. He'd definitely had enough practice, even during the time Xan had known him.

  She headed for the kitchen and coffee, hoping for a few minutes to straighten her head out before she had to face Jason.

  Xan drained her cup, but her thoughts were still tangled. She wasn't sure how she could go back to the resort and tell everyone she and Jason were now together. The ring still sat in its box on the dining table – she'd shied away from wearing it.

  Now, with no one watching, she pulled it out and slipped it onto her fourth finger. As luck would have it, it fitted her perfectly.

  Xan stared at the ring, the gold reflecting the sun streaming through the window as the pearl glowed with hidden secrets, including the biggest one of all: Jason loved her, had asked to marry her, and she'd said yes.

  She didn't want it to be a secret. She wanted someone to shout it from the rooftops until the whole world knew, because that would make this all the more real.

  "Good morning. It suits you," Jason said, bending down for a kiss.

  Yes, it did. But it didn't feel right to wear it yet. A ring this grand screamed of victory, of love so firmly established that no one could tear them apart. A marriage of souls as well as hearts. It wasn't an engagement ring. It was a wedding ring.

  At the thought of planning another celebrity wedding, even her own, Xan's heart sank. All the security and the stress and the planning for a single day?

  "I don't want a big wedding," she said, slipping off the ring to nestle it back in its box. "I always liked the stories where the couple eloped to Las Vegas and just...did it."

  Jason nodded. "Definitely a rock star thing to do. When do you want to go to Vegas?"

  Flummoxed, Xan floundered for a bit. "I...don't want to go to America. If there was a way to do it here and now, I would. It's just...a long engagement, when I could be here while you're off recording or touring or whatever, or if I'm at the island...would you forget about me, like all the other girls? Would you spend every night with fangirls again, like you used to? Jerome cheated on me with a teenager. I don't think I could forgive you if you did the same."

  "Xanthe, all I want is you. I don't need any fangirls, not if I have you. Besides, you'll be with me, if you want. Fuck, I'll find a way for us to get married today, if that's what you want."

  "If we wait too long, I'm scared I'll back out, or get cold feet, or realise just how crazy this is, me marrying a rock star. It doesn't feel real yet." Xan couldn't seem to find the right words. What was she saying? She never second guessed her decisions. "It's time for a new adventure. I want to sign something. I want to do something. Today."

  Jason nodded like he understood. "I'll make it real. Today, or tomorrow. Before we leave, anyway. We'll sign the papers and say the words and I'll be yours, Xanthe. Officially." He swallowed and flashed a shy smile. "And you'll be mine."

  "Yes."

  FIFTY-SIX

  And that's how, at four o'clock that afternoon, Xanthe Lane stood beside Jason Felix in the waiting room of the registry office. She wore a new dress she'd bought only that morning, a summery style fit for a garden party in shades of violet, lavender and white. When Jason had seen her cutting off the tags, he'd laughed and brought out a shirt that matched the violet perfectly. He wore it now, fiddling with the buttons on the cuffs like he wasn't used to wearing long sleeves. And he wasn't – it was novel to see him wearing a shirt at all.

  The receptionist called their names, and Xan's knees went weak. She was going to do this. She was going to marry the man she loved, who loved her.

  "I hate Sydney traffic," grumbled a familiar voice.

  Xan spun, to find Jo and Angel...Caitlin in the room with them. She stared at Jason.

  "I called them," he said sheepishly, staring at his feet. "We're supposed to have two witnesses and I thought it'd be nicer to have people we know instead of strangers."

  "We stopped for flowers on the way from the airport. I think we got the colours right. It was hard to tell from Jason's phone photo," Jo said, holding out a bouquet of purple blooms.

  "Thank you," Xan said, overwhelmed. "You both flew in from Perth for this?"

  "Wouldn't miss it," Caitlin answered. "I knew there was something between you two, but Jo didn't believe me. Now she does."

  "I'll believe it when I see it," grumbled Jo. "They're here, but they're not married yet."

  The impatient receptionist called their names again, and Jason led the way into the tiny room where ceremonies were held. Xan didn't even know the celebrant's name, or what he'd say, but it didn't matter.

  Jason coughed and pushed a piece of notepaper into her hand. "After Caitlin's wedding, I wrote this. I tried to make it into a song, but I suck at songwriting, so it's just the words for now. I figured we could use them as wedding vows, if you want."

  A quick glance told Xan all she needed to know. "Sure," she said, and Jason beamed.

  The celebrant galloped through the preamble, so that all too soon, it was time to read the vows Jason had written.

  Xan cleared her throat, raising the paper in one hand while Jason held fast to the other. "Through fire and water and storm and sea, I will love and cherish you. Through it all, you will be my happily ever after, and I will be yours."

  Jason repeated the same words, his eyes shining as he didn't take his gaze off her.

  Next, he produced two rings – her pearl and coral creation, with a simple gold band for him. She pushed the band onto his finger, repeating the celebrant's words.

  Then it was her turn. Jason slid the beautiful ring onto her finger, breathing the words like a blessing. Or a fervent prayer.

  The celebrant said something about Mr and Mrs, and kisses.

  Kisses. Jason's lips caressed hers, a promise of more to come, before he pulled away.

  Xan caught sight of Jo shaking her head before the celebr
ant demanded her attention again, this time for paperwork.

  All five of them signed the certificates, and it was done.

  Xan handed the bouquet back to Jo. "Thank you for bringing those. I wouldn't have thought to."

  "Hold it!" Caitlin commanded, holding up her phone for a photo. Xan had been aware of both girls taking pictures throughout the ceremony, but only now did she realise they held the only records of her wedding.

  "Can you send those to me?" Xan asked.

  "Sure thing," Jo said. "Mine will probably be better. Caitlin doesn't take many photos, but I've had plenty of practice."

  The receptionist had gone by the time they reached the waiting room, her window shut for the day. There was a crowd waiting for the lift, though – all tired-looking office workers, staring at their phones and tapping their feet.

  Jo and Caitlin moved in close to Jason, who now wore a pair of huge, ugly sunglasses. It took Xan a moment to realise why.

  Disguising him, so he wouldn't be recognised. They might be married, but their wedding was still a secret.

  They all bundled into a taxi to take them back to Jason's place, where both women hugged her and wished her the best. Jason invited them to dinner, but the girls declined. They had a flight to catch, and work tomorrow.

  A whirlwind of polite goodbyes and sisterly kisses surrounded Xan for a moment, and then she found herself alone with Jason. Her husband. On their wedding night, the thought of which turned Xan into a bundle of nerves.

  "What do you want for dinner?" he asked without the slightest hint of lust in his tone. Didn't he want her?

  "What about sex?" Xan blurted out, then blushed. "I don't mean for dinner. I just thought...with your reputation, you'd be ready to tear my clothes off right about now."

  Jason laughed ruefully. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. "Xanthe, I will never rip your clothes, unless you ask me to. I've wanted you from pretty much the moment I met you. I've dreamed about you so many times I can't remember a night I don't think about you." His eyes burned. "Fuck, if you say you want me now, I figure it'll take me less than three seconds to be balls deep inside you, and in about five minutes, it'll be over. I've waited so fucking long."