by Lucy Score
The elevator doors opened, and they spilled out into the hallway. Chip jogged toward his room, one hand clamped firmly over his eye. Aiden stood rooted to the spot. “We need to talk,” he said to Frankie.
“Yeah, well, that’s not happening either. I have nothing to say to you.”
“Let’s go Kilbourn. Gotta get me married,” Chip called from the end of the hall.
“Don’t get abducted again,” Frankie called after him. She whirled on Aiden and stabbed him in the chest with her finger. “He trusts you. But I don’t. And if you do anything to fuck this up for him and Pru, I’ll be taking your balls home with me in my carry-on,” Frankie warned him.
“I’m rather attached to them.”
“Don’t be cute with me.”
“You’re beautiful when you’re covered in blood and pissed off.”
“Then I must look like a fucking super model right now.”
She flipped him off one more time for good measure and stormed down the hall to her room. She’d forgotten until she got inside about the dress. The mangled, stained dress. The garment bag was hanging in the closet. She was too nervous to look to see if the hotel laundry had been able to work a miracle. She shucked off her now ruined sundress and shoved herself into the strapless bra and friggin’ forty-seven dollar satin briefs that just had to go with the dress.
With shaking fingers, she unzipped the bag. Oh god. There were still visible berry stains. The tears at least looked… better-ish. It still looked like the dress had been run through a garbage disposal.
Her phone rang again and she stabbed the speakerphone button as she shimmied into the dress.
“Yeah?”
“Frankie, you’ve got to get down here. My dad and Chip’s dad are fighting in the aisle.”
“Fistfight or wrestling?”
“Ha. Basically, screaming at each other about how the other’s kid is a selfish asshole.”
Frankie could hear shouting in the background. “What are the groomsmen doing?”
“Putting action on it. Most of them think my dad can take Mr. Randolph because of the years of pent up rage.”
“Ugh. I’ll be down in two minutes. In the meantime, have your wedding coordinator do literally anything.”
“Hurry!”
Frankie hung up and stared in horror in the mirror. The left side of her face was covered in blood. Only some of it was dried. Her carefully coiffed hair was exploding out of the last of the torture pins that were still hanging on. She had an entire vine stuck in there somehow. And the dress?
The dress was cleaner now but still destroyed. Did bridesmaid dresses come in distressed fabric? Pru was definitely going to kill her.
There was a knock at the door, and Frankie tripped over the hem in her haste to get to it.
“What the hell do you want?”
Aiden was standing there in an annoyingly pristine, perfectly tailored tux. No blood or bruises on his face. Just a ghost of a smile and a garment bag slung over his shoulder.
“I thought you might need this,” he said, handing over the bag.
“Like there’s anything you could give me that I’d accept right now,” Frankie snapped. Her head hurt and so did her heart.
Seeing that she wasn’t going to, Aiden reached over and unzipped the bag himself.
It was her bridesmaid dress. Or at least an exact replica. “How in the hell—”
“Do you really want to know how, or do you want to put it on?” he asked.
“On.” Anger and shyness be damned. She had a best friend to please. Frankie slid out of her dress, shoving it into a pile on the floor.
Aiden lost that smug smile and simply stared.
“Like you haven’t seen a thousand tits before,” she muttered, stepping into the new dress.
He steadied her when she wobbled and zipped her up in the back.
“Perfect,” he said.
“How did you know my size?”
“Did you forget I’ve had my hands on you?”
“That was eighteen hours ago. How did you get a gown in my size here that fast?”
“Why don’t we take care of the blood and the hair instead of focusing on the hows?” he suggested.
“How did you get dressed so fast? Is Chip ready? Oh, God. You didn’t leave him alone did you?”
Aiden pushed her into the bathroom and wet a washcloth.
“Why are hotel towels always white?” Frankie winced, as he began to clean her face. “Those stains aren’t coming out.”
“Do you always babble when you’re nervous?”
“Nervous? I’m not nervous. I’m a freaking rock over here. I didn’t almost die or give myself a concussion or ruin my best friend’s perfect day.”
“Shhh.” Aiden worked the cloth gently around her temple.
“Look. You don’t have to be all gentle about it. We gotta get down stairs and keep Win and R.L. from killing each other. They were four seconds away from wrestling when Pru called.”
“Got it covered.”
“You just have everything covered, don’t you?”
“I would if you’d let me.”
“You could have told me. That you knew who had him. That you were working on a plan.”
“I didn’t want to involve you in Kilbourn business. It’s messy and ugly, and I’m trying to impress you. So, how appealing would I have been if I told you my half-brother orchestrated this entire thing to ensure my vote for a new chief financial officer?”
“I find honesty a lot more attractive than someone who never gets dirty, Aiden.”
She turned to look in the mirror. He’d done the best he could with the cleanup, and she no longer resembled a car accident victim. “Oh, my hair.”
“Leave it down.” He pulled a pin out before she could object. “Don’t try to tame it.”
Their eyes met and held in the mirror. She was still mad. But marginally less mad. It must be his pheromones that he was giving off. Sexy, wealthy pheromones.
“We better get down there,” she said, grabbing a stick of deodorant and her lip gloss and shoving them in her clutch. “I can finish in the elevator.”
She made a dash for the door only to turn around. “Shoes!”
Aiden held up his hand, her sandals dangling from his fingers.
Chapter Twenty-One
The wedding was, despite the events leading up to it, picture perfect.
Well, after Pruitt’s father, R.L. tried to take a swing at Chip when he handed off his daughter to her groom. But besides that, it had been rather nice, Aiden decided.
Pruitt glowed in her gown and didn’t even seem to mind that Chip was wearing an eye patch. A scratched cornea, according to Dr. Erbman, an optometrist who was attending the wedding. The couple said their vows and sealed them with the requisite kiss. It appeared as though all transgressions had been forgiven and everyone was ready to enjoy the party. Everyone except Franchesca.
There was no forgiveness in those blue-green eyes. He’d watched her throughout the ceremony. He tried to put his finger on exactly what it was about Franchesca Baranski that held his attention like a hand closing around his throat. She wasn’t his usual cookie-cutter beauty. She wasn’t refined. And she certainly wasn’t used to high society.
He made sure the women he dated were all of those things. It made it easy, uncomplicated.
There was nothing uncomplicated about Frankie. And she was dismissive about his wealth, something else Aiden wasn’t used to.
But he longed to touch her again. It had been a test of both his and her reactions at Oistins. He’d pushed his luck on the beach at Rockley. But now that he had his answer, there was no way he was giving up the chase. He wanted her under him, naked and begging. Wanted to fist a hand in that curtain of curls and bring her to her knees. There was something dangerous about those desires. He wanted to own her, consume her.
He wanted her to complicate the hell out of things.
He watched her throughout the ceremony. While the other bridesmaids looked bored or practiced the perfect pose for the photographer, Frankie cried tears of sincere joy for her friends and the commitment they were making. She was a romantic, and he knew he’d spoil that in her if he touched her. If he got her to say yes. He wasn’t capable of love or romance. He excelled at winning.
And even with the blood, the bruises, the lack of makeup, Franchesca was a prize worth winning. She outshone the rest of them, all posing like clothes hangers. The same hair, the same makeup, the same drive.
He’d have her, Aiden decided, for purely selfish reasons. She didn’t make sense. She didn’t fit in his life. But he wanted her all the same. He’d have her even if it meant ruining her.
He’d caught her eye during the vows, and the soft happiness in her eyes had shifted to steel. No, she hadn’t forgiven him. Nor should she. However, if that grudge was going to keep her out of his bed, Aiden was willing to grovel to destroy the obstacle.
They spent the rest of the ceremony locked in a staring contest. His focus zeroed in until there was nothing but Frankie, her hair blowing in the breeze, her dress hugging her curves like she were a pin-up.
“Knock. It. Off,” she mouthed to him. He grinned wickedly. Yes, this conquest would be more than satisfying.
When the bride and groom linked arms in celebration and marched down the aisle to the cheers of their audience. Aiden felt the anticipation ratchet up.
And then he was touching her. Frankie stiffly slid her arm through his.
He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a handkerchief. He handed it to her. She frowned down at it. “You soak this in chloroform?” she hissed.
His laugh surprised them both and drew the eyes of the ceremony guests.
“You are one-of-a-kind, Franchesca.”
“Ugh. Let’s get this over with, you steaming pile of shit,” she muttered.
“Smile pretty for the cameras, sweetheart,” he said as they started down the aisle.
“How about I break your nose like I did for your brother?” she offered sweetly, beaming up at him as if he were the most fascinating man in the world.
“Half-brother. And if it gets you to forgive me, my nose is yours.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
They smiled and nodded their way down the white carpet, and Aiden captured her hand with his free one. A photographer darted in front of them, and Aiden squeezed her hand until Frankie pasted on a “fuck you” smile. They grinned at each other. His hand crushing hers, her nails digging into his wrist.
He’d never wanted a woman this badly before in his entire forty years. Not even the voluptuous and unattainable Natalia when he’d been a fifteen-year-old virgin in private school. Two years older than Aiden, Natalia hadn’t remained unattainable, and Aiden hadn’t remained a virgin.
However, Frankie was just stubborn enough to deny them both what they most wanted on principle. He couldn’t have that. He was a Kilbourn, and Kilbourns did whatever it took to get what they wanted by any means necessary as embarrassingly evidenced by his half-brother’s dim-witted move.
Reluctantly, Aiden released her when Pruitt threw her arms around Frankie.
The women hugged rocking side to side, and the tears returned.
Aiden slapped Chip on the shoulder. “You did it.”
“Thanks to you and Frankie,” Chip said, prodding his eyepatch. “So, you going to kill Elliot?”
“I’ve got some plans for him,” Aiden said darkly. He was used to his family’s manipulations to some extent. But Elliot had crossed a line, and there was no going back.
“What did he want out of you?” Chip asked.
“A vote.”
“Family, right?” Chip shrugged good-naturedly.
“I’m sorry he dragged you into this. Rest assured he’ll pay.”
“I had no doubt, Kilbourn. Now, let’s party.”
Chip swept Pruitt out of Frankie’s arms and spun her in a circle. “Mrs. Randolph!”
“Mr. Randolph,” she cooed back at him. “Now, tell me everything that happened.”
Davenport appeared with Margeaux attached to him. She slinked over to Aiden and smiled slyly. “How do you feel about bagging a bridesmaid before cocktail hour?”
He frowned and leaned in a little closer. “What happened to your eyebrow?”
Margeaux growled. “That low-class, fat bitch Franklin bonded with the help, and they waxed it off.”
“Oh, hey, Marge,” Frankie strolled by, plate of hors de oeuvres in hand. “You’ve got a little something right here.” She pointed to where the fake eyebrow that wasn’t fooling anyone had been sketched onto her forehead.
“Why don’t you fuck off and go scrub someone’s toilet?” Margeaux snapped.
“Actually, I’m in catering, so you should ask me to get a plate of food. But I can see how you’d get those confused, being a spoiled, selfish dumbass and all.”
“Ladies,” Davenport said jovially. He threw an arm around both bridesmaids. “Can’t we all just get along?”
“Sure, as soon as someone sends her back over the wall to Mexico where she belongs,” Margeaux sneered.
“I’m Lebanese and Italian, you fuckwit.”
“Whatever. Your people fold my laundry and cook for me.”
“Margeaux, why don’t you do us all a favor and go off and fuck some poor schmuck who doesn’t yet know what a soulless harpy you are?” Aiden said succinctly.
Frankie and Margeaux stared at him, open mouthed.
“Don’t insult Franchesca again, or you won’t be happy with the consequences.”
“Come on, doll. Let’s get you a drink and some appetizers that you can throw up later,” Davenport said, steering Margeaux away from Frankie.
“I don’t need you defending me,” Frankie reminded him.
“And I don’t need you being treated like shit.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I can see that. Nice job on her eyebrow by the way. She’s going to look perennially surprised in every photo.”
Frankie’s full lips curved ever so slightly. “It wasn’t my idea. I wish it had been.”
Cressida and Taffany joined them. Cressida snapped her fingers at a waiter bearing a tray of drinks. “You may leave these here,” she said, taking the tray from him.
Taffany was a shocking shade of fuchsia. She reached for a glass and winced as her dress rubbed her raw skin.
“What happened to you?” Frankie asked.
“I fell asleep in the sun this afternoon after the spa,” Taffany said trying to lift the drink to her lips without stretching any skin.
“Passed out actually,” Ford said, leaning over Taffany’s shoulder and grabbing a drink. He’d already loosened his tie and slapped on a pair of Ray-Bans. “Let’s get this party started!”
“I agree,” Cressida said fiercely.
“Woooo,” the burnt Taffany said without moving.
Digby strolled by on his phone muttering about “not missing this IPO” and “restricted shares.”
“Let’s talk,” Aiden told Frankie. He was pleasantly surprised when she let him guide her away from the festivity, his hand at the small of her back.
Night was falling. The sunset cast a spectacular show of pinks and reds over the sky and ocean to the west. Behind them, the band warmed up with an old favorite.
“You wanted to talk, so talk,” Frankie said, crossing her arms in front of her. The move made her breasts swell dangerously against the fabric of her dress.
“I’d like to explain what happened.”
“To me or to my boobs,” Frankie asked.
Rather reluctantly, Aiden raised his gaze to her face. She was smirking at him, her hair spilling over a shoulder, the curls lifting in the wind.
“To all of you, if you’ll let me.”
She made a sarcastic and sweeping gesture with her hand. “The beach i
s yours. Talk.”
“My family isn’t normal,” he began. She rolled her eyes but didn’t interject. “We don’t ask for things. We take them. We manipulate and maneuver until whatever it is that we want is ours or until we lose our interest.”
“I thought you were trying to get into my pants?” Frankie quipped.
“I’m trying to be honest. And I have a feeling honesty will get me farther than painting pretty pictures.”
“So, you’re all selfish, manipulative assholes. I got it. Why did your selfish, manipulative asshole brother take Chip?”
“Elliot is my half-brother. He’s spent years trying to prove to our father that he’s the better son.” Despite their ten-year age difference, Elliot had been born trying to keep up with Aiden. “I’m favored for whatever reasons my father has. But Elliot is constantly trying to outdo me, undermine me, prove his worth.”
“Uh-huh. And abducting your best friend would help him how?”
“We’re all on the board of Kilbourn Holdings. We’re looking for a new CFO. A powerful and lucrative position. Elliot wants me to vote for the candidate he’s backing. His candidate is… lacking. And I told him so, repeatedly.” It was the polite way of saying Boris Donaldson was a sexual harassing, egotistical, asshole who left his last position under the shadow of an insider trading scheme. Aiden wasn’t letting the man near his family business.
“So, he took Chip to strong-arm you into it?”
Aiden nodded. “It sounds stupid, but the business of it is complicated.”
“It is stupid, but it’s not that complicated. Obviously, Elliot has a reason he wants this guy in place whether it’s personal or professional. CFO for Kilbourn Holdings. That’s a lot of money, not to mention prestige, and a voice as to what happens within the company. He either really likes this guy, or it’s a ‘I’ll do this for you, if you do this for me’ deal.”
Aiden nodded, pleased that she grasped the situation. “I knew Elliot was behind it when you named the company listed on the room. He thinks it’s a secret shell corporation, but I know everything that happens under the company umbrella. I’ve kept an eye on him and his business.”
“This is the part that really starts to piss me off. You knew where Chip was and who had him, and you could probably guess the reason. Yet you decide we have to leave him there and ‘regroup.’”