The hotel is dazzling, and I slide my sunglasses up until they rest on top of my head, so I can get a good look around. In the interest of research and not looking like a fish out of water, I’ve already read everything I could about the Mandarin Oriental.
It is certainly as amazing as the articles and reviews I read. The soaring ceilings of the lobby, the gold and deep red accents, the shining black marble. It’s exquisite. I feel like a princess as Brock and I walk in, arm-in-arm.
“It’s showtime, baby,” he murmurs.
“What if I do something wrong?”
“Then I’ll have to punish you.”
“I’ll tell you right now: my safe word is get off!”
He smiles slowly and wickedly.
I wish he’d take off his glasses so I can see what he’s really thinking. I hope he doesn’t plan on freezing me out all weekend when we’re alone, the way he’s done these last few days, except for the times when we were brushing up on our knowledge of each other and our made-up relationship.
I make a point of leaning against him a little and making sure my ring faces straight ahead.
“Ah, yes. Mr. Garret.” The concierge nearly falls over himself when he realizes who he’s speaking to. “And this must be your lovely fiancée.”
“Yes, this is Miss Saber.”
Out of sheer habit, I hold out a hand to greet him. Karl, according to his name badge. Then I withdraw it quickly when I see the surprise on his face. Shit. I glance up quickly at Brock to see if he noticed my faux pas, but he only smiles down indulgently at me.
“I hope you enjoy your visit, Miss Saber. The Mandarin Suite is all ready for you both. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. There is no need to register at the reception.”
Well, well, how the rich live.
He nods to one of the bellhops who immediately loads up our bags, and we follow behind the cart to the bank of elevators just beyond the desk.
“Brock?”
I feel him freeze at the sound of a high-pitched, almost squealing female voice. I freeze too, but immediately fall into fiancée mode. I have a job to do. I turn my head slightly. The tall, leggy blonde rushing across the lobby with her arms extended has to be the woman I’ve been brought here to make jealous.
She’s gorgeous, like something off a runway. She might as well be walking down one as she struts around in a designer sundress with—surprise, surprise—the sky-high heels Brock said I didn’t need to wear if I didn’t want to. Her hair sparkles like gold as she tosses it over one tanned shoulder. Her green eyes glow with happiness. At least, she wants us to think it’s happiness, but there is something false about her.
“I didn’t think you would come. I really didn’t.” She flashes him a brilliant smile as her hands land on his shoulders, in spite of the fact that I’m still holding onto his arm and his hand is in mine. She has perfectly balanced, delicate features with full, glossy lips which she puckers as though she’s waiting for a kiss that never comes.
Oh, I hate her.
“Dani, this is Charlotte.” Brock looks down at me with a smile. He doesn’t even stop looking at me for the rest of the introduction. “Charlotte, this is Dani.”
I squeeze his arm and drop a quick wink. We’ve got this, I want to tell him. I hope he knows. This woman is clearly a nightmare, I can tell just by looking at her. She’s high-maintenance, shrill, and doesn’t care that he’s clearly with another woman. Although she left him, she’ll touch him when she wants to and act as if she is still the only woman in the world that’s important to him. And that’s just to spite me.
I can just imagine what a debacle this wedding is going to be.
Even so, she’s beautiful and classy in her way, and much more sophisticated than I am. She wears her designer outfit like it’s a second skin, while I feel like an imposter. I almost feel sorry for Brock, having to pretend he’s not still in love with her. Having to pretend he’s in love with me.
“Dani. What a…charming name? I wasn’t aware Brock was bringing anyone along with him, but this is very sweet.” She smiles brilliantly at me, and it truly feels as though the sun just broke through the clouds to shower me with light. She’s enchanting.
Maybe I’m the one who is being jealous and catty and she’s a genuinely nice person who is also flawlessly beautiful. That would explain why Brock is still so in love with her. My smile mirrors hers. I hope. “I thought I might have to work this weekend, but managed to reschedule my appointments at the last minute. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you in any way?”
“Not at all. It’s a pleasure to have you here,” she says graciously.
“I couldn’t be here without my fiancée,” Brock murmurs, kissing my earlobe.
I giggle before turning his way, and standing on tiptoe to kiss him for real. I don’t expect it to be anything more than a basic kiss, just for show. I’m wrong. God, how wrong.
He takes the side of my face in his hand and plunges his tongue into my mouth, swirling it around until my head is whirling and my toes are nearly curling. By the time he pulls away, my heart is beating a mile a minute, and I feel more than a little giddy.
What was that all about? I thought he wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection. He must really want to show her.
I turn to Charlotte with the intention of apologizing for the sudden show and see something that takes my breath away…all over again.
She looks furious. Beyond furious. She’s trying to hide it, trying to smile like she did before, but she fails miserably. Her face looks brittle, like it might crack into a million pieces. Her eyes are cold and hard.
Oh, my Lord!
I don’t know if Brock sees it, but I do. She still desperately wants Brock and hates me for being with him. What the heck does she care? She’s getting married this weekend! There goes any hope of her being a gracious loser and remembering that this is her weekend and we’re all here for her.
“We should get up to the suite,” Brock announces, sliding an arm around my waist and steering me toward the elevators.
I sense the urgency in him. He wants to get away from her. I don’t blame him, I want the same thing, but for different reasons. He’s afraid she’ll know he’s still in love with her. I think she’s a nightmare. I was willing to give her a break until I saw that look on her face.
“Come to lunch with us!” she calls out.
We stop and look at each other. I still can’t see his eyes, so I can’t tell what he thinks about this. But his arm tightens.
“I don’t know. We just landed and I know I’d like Dani to relax a little,” he says, looking at Charlotte over the top of my head.
Her next question is directed at me, “You’re not tired, are you, Dani?”
“Um…”
“See? She’s not. Oh, come on, don’t be such a spoilsport. I would love for you to meet Trent.”
Trent? Yeah, that sounds like the perfect name for the sort of guy who would marry her.
“Please? We’re having lunch here at the restaurant, in an hour. You can’t deny the bride, the day before her wedding.” She tilts her head to the side and pouts.
Ugh. She’s insufferable.
“Sure,” Brock capitulates with a shrug. “Sure, we’d love to.”
He really has it bad for her if he can’t see what a manipulative little bitch she is.
I wish I could get away with slugging him.
Chapter 23
Dani
Brock hands the patient bellhop some folded-up cash and waits until the door is closed behind us before speaking, “Clearly, there was nothing I could do about that.”
“Clearly. But what about sticking your tongue down my throat?” I ask, hands on my hips. “What was that all about?”
“I might have gotten a little caught up in the moment.” He avoids looking at me, choosing instead to explore the suite. “She needs to know who you are to me.”
“Who I’m supposed to be, you mean.”
�
�Of course,” he says smoothly.
I sit on the edge of the bed and look around the suite. It’s simply stunning. There are two bedrooms, both with king-sized beds, a living and dining room. I can see into the bathroom from where I’m sitting and the sunken tub looks out over the strip through the windows that surround it. “This is gorgeous,” I say, running my hands over the ultra-soft bedspread. It reminds me of falling asleep on Brock’s bed and everything that led to this moment. Has it really only been four days? Not even.
“It’s the best suite with two bedrooms in this place,” he informs me. Leaning against the open door, he takes off his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves.
How the heck does he make a button-down and khaki slacks look so darn sexy?
“I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”
I chuckle. “There would have to be something seriously wrong with me if I couldn’t find comfort here.”
“That’s why I know you’re perfect for this,” he murmurs. His glasses are off and I can see honesty in his eyes. “Thank you again, by the way.”
“Thank you. I could never have a weekend like this on my wages. I know you said to leave that stuff behind, but it’s the truth. This?” I wave my arms around, then motion toward my clothes and sandals. “I could never make this happen on my own.”
“By the time this weekend is over, you might not be thanking me. So I’ll accept any thanks while you’re willing to offer it.”
“That sounds pretty ominous. Are you trying to scare me?”
“You saw what she’s like. Impossible to deny, someone who always gets her way through sheer force of will. And now, we have to sit at lunch with her and her fiancé.”
There’s so much darkness in his voice, so much emotion, my heart goes out to him. I wish he would get over her. My stomach fills with resentment. She’s not that spectacular, for God’s sake.
But I guess, so much more spectacular than I could ever hope to be. And she has one more advantage over me—she has his heart.
The restaurant is just as beautiful as the rest of the hotel and very fancy. Not to mention filled with gorgeous people. It’s definitely not the sort of place I’ve heard about, the cheap buffets and windowless rooms where gamblers can’t tell if it’s day or night.
This is a totally different world. The midnight-blue ceiling is two-stories high while lit glass orbs hang suspended from thin cords throughout the room, giving the impression of luminous moons in the night sky. I can just imagine how much more lovely it would be at night, with the view of the Las Vegas strip outside the windows. It will be like dining in the sky.
Charlotte waves at us from her table.
My eyes immediately shift to the man sitting with her. He looks every inch like the kind of man I imagined she’d marry. He even pops the collar on his polo shirt and wears his sunglasses on the back of his head when he’s not using them. Holy jeez. She went from Brock to this guy? What’s her problem? Is she that desperate? No, she can’t be. Women like her don’t get desperate.
I squeeze Brock’s hand to let him know I’m with him in this, and he squeezes back. I wonder what he must be feeling right now. Insulted, if he’s got even a grain of sense. I know I would be. We’re both all smiles, though, when we reach the table.
“This is Trent,” Charlotte beams, introducing us both in turn. Brock extends his hand in greeting, which Trent shakes seemingly as an afterthought while checking something on the phone in his other hand. He doesn’t greet me. He doesn’t even look at me.
“So, you two.” Charlotte rests her elbows on the table, her chin nestled in her hands. “Tell me the story! How long have you been together?” She flashes a fake smile. “I didn’t even know Brock had a new girlfriend!”
“How would you know?” Brock points out. We’re sitting at a square table, one of us on either side, with Brock to my left. He makes a point of linking his fingers with mine on top of the table…in plain view.
She pouts sensuously at him.
Oh, how I want to slap her.
“Mark, of course. I expect Mark to tell me when something this important happens.”
Okay, I have to jump in here. “You know Brock and Mark. They’ll talk about business until the cows come home before switching it over to how Mark’s fantasy football team is doing. God forbid, they talk about anything important.” I give his arm a playful smack.
At this, his eyebrows fly upwards. “Besides,” he adds, “I was trying to be a gentleman. I asked him not to mention anything about us to you. It’s in poor taste to rub a relationship in an ex’s face. Don’t you think?”
She purses her lips and looks away, to where Trent is still on his phone. She very deliberately pulls his hand away from it and holds it in her own.
The romance is just flowing between these two. If they’re in love, I’m a unicorn.
The waiter comes and she looks up at him, the simpering expression dying from her face. “Plain salad with grilled chicken. A lemon wedge instead of dressing. Make a note to the chef to cut out all the fat from the chicken before grilling.”
I order a salad too, but a normal one with chicken, berries, and glazed nuts.
“Make sure there are no strawberries, though,” Brock tells the waiter.
I turn to stare at him, amazed that he remembered.
He looks into my eyes and touches my nose gently. “I wouldn’t want you coming out in hives,” he murmurs.
“Thank you,” I whisper, before dragging my eyes away from his and turning to face Charlotte. I feel almost hypnotized by him.
She is watching us avidly. She smiles tightly. “I wish I could eat whatever I wanted right now, the way you can, but fitting into that dress tomorrow…well you’ll know all about it soon enough.”
I glance at Brock. “I’m sure I will.”
“How did you two love birds meet?” she asks eagerly.
I smile. “Well, I own several house cleaning businesses in Manhattan, and Brock reached out to us. I like to meet our high-profile clients in person, you know, get to know them a little better before being certain that our services are right for them.”
“And it was love at first sight,” Brock adds.
The tenderness in his voice makes my head whirl around in surprise, searching his face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he meant it. He winks at me and I realize he’s just acting. He must really want to put the screws to Charlotte.
Charlotte tilts her head to the side, frowning. If her forehead wasn’t so Botoxed, she’d be able to create some lines, but no such luck. “So you’re a housekeeper?” she asks, deliberately misunderstanding.
I make my voice saccharine sweet. “No, dear. I own the business.” She’d better not try to Google my name, or I’m screwed. I hadn’t thought about her challenging me like this.
Brock clearly didn’t consider it, either. “What about you?” he asks, breaking in, looking from Charlotte to Trent.
“Huh?” It’s literally the first sound the man has made outside of ordering a burger and fries. And another whiskey.
“You’re the real love birds here.” I grin. “The big day is tomorrow, there’s a huge party in your honor tonight. We want to hear more about you two. How did you meet? How did Trent propose?”
“Oh, it’s the sweetest story ever. Can I tell it, honey?” Charlotte coos.
“What? Yeah. Sure.” He barely glances up at her.
Brock coughs to cover up a laugh, but it’s a pretty poor attempt. I can see right through him, and so can Charlotte.
She decides to kick things up a notch, running her fingers through Trent’s hair like she’s grooming him. There is no tenderness or affection between them.
Well, this is how she wants to play it? Okay. I lean against Brock a little too. It’s a much more natural gesture than anything the two of them have exchanged so far. I actually feel comfortable being this close to him.
“We were in Paris…” She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. “At the top of the Eiff
el Tower, it was so romantic.”
“Paris? It sounds very romantic,” I mumble.
Brock gives me a gentle kick under the table.
I kick him back. It’s either that or burst out laughing at how ridiculous this is.
She fixes me with a shrewd glare. “Oh? You’ve never been to Paris, have you?”
Shit. She’s smarter than I gave her credit for. “No,” I admit. “Which is why it seems so romantic to me. It probably isn’t as romantic in real life as I have it built up in my head.”
Another fake cough from Brock.
Her eyes narrow as she looks from my innocent face to Brocks’ politely blank expression. “Anyway,” she continues with a shake of her golden tresses. “There we were. At the top of the tower. And he got down on one knee and proposed and there was champagne and flowers and everybody around us clapped. It was one of those perfect moments.”
“Aww…that so sweet,” I say, and give myself an A+ for sounding so genuine.
“What about you two?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. Her eyes are sharp and watchful.
Brock clears his throat. “Ah, we were out on the balcony at my place. So, not as grand a gesture as Trent’s. To be honest, I had a different plan, but I couldn’t help myself.” He turns to gaze at me with sheep’s eyes. “There she was standing in her nightgown, shivering, and I couldn’t wait one second longer…”
Oh, my God, he is a far, far better actor that I gave him credit for. I was there, so I know that’s not how it went down, but hell, his version is so much better.
He nods at me.
Now, I know that it’s my turn to carry the torch. “Yeah, you warmed me up,” I say in an awed voice.
Something flashes behind his eyes. Then a slight smile touches his mouth and suddenly, I remember that mouth and what it did to me, what I wanted it to do.
“And you said it was the most romantic moment of your life.” He grins.
I burst out laughing because yes, I did say that.
We laugh together. For that moment, we’re not actors—we are actually joined by a secret memory.
Kissing Booth Page 10