The Billion Dollar Wedding: The Honeymoon Collection

by Cynthia Dane

  Jasmine sank against her car.

  “You bitch!” the redhead laughed. “Did you seriously tell your fiancé that Cole was actually marrying Thomas and not that whore of his? What did you think that was going to accomplish? They don’t even know who you are.”

  “Never let it be said I’m not a petty ho.” They both cackled now, starting their second round of cigarettes. “Cole thinks he can turn down my pussy? Well, Thomas doesn’t get to start taking my invitations to the garden parties and soirees. I was on the list to go to Monica Warren’s garden party when Ms. Adrienne Thomas shows up in town, and I’m suddenly off the list. Doesn’t that slut know that girls like us make our living from attending parties? It’s our bread and butter! So, they want to fuck with my living? I’ll fuck with theirs. If I can at all get that tart Jasmine out of the picture, all the better.”

  “Why do you hate her so much?”

  “Why do any of us hate that slut? She doesn’t know anything and is so embarrassing. You saw that disgusting display in there. Is that what our functions, our dining experiences are going to be from now on? I don’t fucking think so. Look, I know I wasn’t going to get rid of her that easily, and they’re getting married tomorrow… but what if I told you that I know where Cole is going to be a month from now?”

  “Let me guess. The Annual Admiral’s Conference in DC. Just like you.”

  “Fuck yes. It’s also my personal mission to get in his pants, even if it means loading him up with so much alcohol he has a raging hangover for a whole week straight. He’ll be married a month by then. My mother says that’s when guys start cheating. That soon!”

  “Well, fuck! That explains every other marriage I’ve seen deteriorate around me. Hey, what’s the betting pool on the Warrens’ marriage?”

  “Everyone’s giving it over a year because of that baby thing, but you bet that once he’s done being enamored with fatherhood, Henry will be looking for better models. Like us.”

  “Girl…”

  Jasmine could barely stand to listen to any more. I don’t even know these women, other than slightly recognizing them from the papers… Yet they were conspiring against her? Because she was with Ethan? Would they hate her this much if she had been born like them? Is this what Caroline had been talking about when she told Jasmine that rich women felt like she had stolen something from them by marrying an eligible bachelor?

  “Besides, my father is over Thomas-Cole. He’s pulling out his investments… though he’s being nice and waiting until Ethan gets back from the honeymoon to drop that bomb.”

  “Why is your dad doing that?”

  “He says he has to protect his image. Between the rumors that Jasmine Bliss used to be a prostitute and Adrienne Thomas being seen at that gay bar grabbing ass and crying into drinks… literally the only reason she hasn’t hit the tabloids yet is because she has the editors charmed. They only say nice things about her. Mark my words, though, it will have to be made public if she fucks up enough or pisses off the wrong one. I hear Daniel McKay of The Social Sun fancies her and is thinking about asking her out… if that dyke says no, there will be hell to pay. He’s a vengeful douche. You know he’s why George Little was finally caught in his sex scandal… everyone knew, but McKay was the first to have the guys…”

  Jasmine stopped listening, her body feeling so ill that she had to open her car door and sit in the driver’s seat.

  I am a liability. She had always known that. When she looked at and listened to what others thought of her, it became so clear that not even her love for Ethan could keep her blinded. If I marry Ethan, I’ll cost him business. Maybe Ethan didn’t care, but Jasmine did.

  These were thoughts that always plagued the back of her mind. Back from before she became engaged. Before the world knew she would soon be Mrs. Cole, the woman they were expected to respect, and not just because she was Ethan’s current fancy he would eventually move on from. People cheered for us to break up. Whether because they were bored or because they wanted him for themselves…

  I don’t belong here. She looked at the fancy French restaurant, which everyone had heard of, but only a special few could ever afford to dine at. She looked at how nicely dressed everyone was. Designers that most people only dreamed of casually wearing… and designers so sought after and exclusive that nobody with an income below a million a year had even heard of them. The cars rolling by… Aston Martins, Rolls-Royces, Ferraris, BMWs, Ethan’s own Lamborghini… shit, there were some cars Jasmine still didn’t know the names of, but she damn well knew they were astronomically expensive and therefore she had no business touching them. Look at the car she was in! This is my car. Ethan could have bought me any car in the world, and I asked for the only car I knew the name of. A Dodge Viper had been within Jasmine’s forecasted means growing up. It was attainable. It was a sweet sports car for the middle class… where she belonged, if not lower.

  Her clothes, as nice as they looked on her, were sometimes uncomfortable, and she would kill to go to a function wearing a nice cotton dress she bought at TJ Maxx or Target. She would never dare! That was social suicide, and if she were going to be Mrs. Cole, she could never be caught in anything less than Ralph Lauren again… and Mr. Lauren would be for hanging out at home or parties she didn’t have to impress anyone at.

  How often did she see her friends? Not very often, and not for a lack of time. They were in different worlds now, and she didn’t exactly have many friends in these upper echelons. Monica couldn’t babysit her every time she felt lonely for female company. Mrs. Warren had her own busy life she was navigating.

  Tears fell down Jasmine’s cheeks. Tears she had to quickly brush away. Tears of frustration, of sadness. I would find more acceptance at my parents’ commune. They might think she was silly for their own reasons, but they would make sure she was welcomed to every meal and she could stay as long as she pulled her weight.

  Jasmine turned on her car. Her mind was awash with terrible, horrible, self-deprecating thoughts that made her life harder… thus she didn’t even realize she was pulling away from the sidewalk until she was already at the third stoplight.

  Where am I going? She had abandoned everyone. If they weren’t already worried about seeing her drive off, they would be worried if she didn’t arrive home later. Would she go home? What the fuck was home?

  She had to admit it. She never felt comfortable in that manor in the Hills. It was still like an extravagant vacation home. She was a temporary resident. A decoration until it was time to be replaced with a better model. Sure, the help were nice to her and lauded her for being down-to-Earth, but that was also a criticism. Every time Belinda thanked Jasmine for being reasonable, she was really saying, “Don’t you know how to do this rich lady of the house thing? Nobody will take you seriously if they come to your house and see you playing dominoes with the maid! What the fuck is wrong with you? Class exists for a reason.”

  As for the penthouse? It was cozier – because Jasmine couldn’t function in an actual mansion – but there were still the doormen and other personnel who reminded her that she was living in a different world. Plus, those women were right. I was Ethan’s prostitute, and that’s where he took me for our business.

  Once she was out of the city, Jasmine gunned the gas. Either by the grace of God or her own subconscious, she wasn’t caught by the police as she sped up into the Hills.

  At first she intended to go home and be by herself for a while. Clear her head on the trails behind the house, or at least until the others came home and wanted her attention.

  Then she drove by the gated driveway. Something about those looming monsters – or maybe that was the guard in his little house – made the breath catch in her throat.

  Jasmine didn’t pay attention to a damn thing. She could have hit a critter and not thought twice about it. She could have run off the road and not realized she was tumbling into a deep ravine until she was already dead. She could have slammed into some multi-millionaire out for a jog and
merely thought Oh well as his blood stained her car. Deep down, she would have probably patted herself on the back for that.

  Kill me. That was all Jasmine could think as she sniffed up tears. Already she was thinking up plans. If I turn around and go home right now, I could be moved out by the time anyone comes home. I don’t need the designer stuff. I don’t need the jewelry or the electronics. Give me my old clothes and let me go, Ethan. Then she thought of Ethan, and she felt so awful about what that would do to him. The day before their wedding!

  The wedding.

  The wedding.

  That’s when Jasmine pulled off the road and stopped short of a cliff. She got out, desperate for air, not giving a flying fuck that dust, pollen, and who knew what else clung to her pretty dress. Know what other dress I have? A wedding dress. Made by a designer that was not known in America… but would be the moment Jasmine was seen in it, photographed in it. I will single-handedly make someone’s multi-million-dollar career. Who the hell had that kind of power? Who was Jasmine kidding? The responsibility!

  She paced in her heels, the pain on the soles of her feet growing, but her brain unable to comprehend blisters, rolling ankles, or even the tiny pebbles slipping between shoe and foot. Jasmine was halfway to pulling her hair out. Hair that was professionally done by a man who demanded a personal reference from Ethan Cole before he would even look at her!

  Sometimes it was easy to forget that the people they cavorted with most were on another plane of existence. Even The Dark Hour types. They rolled up in their limited-edition European sports cars and limos without a second thought, reveling in their power, their money, and making sure the whole world knew what hot shit they were while they spanked and flogged. Who was it that introduced Jasmine to that world? Ethan! Jasmine would have never stood for a man to spank her until… until…

  No. Not just a man paid her to do it. Until she felt the sheer amount of control and domination emanating from a man who had made his own billions. Ethan never felt entitled to it, like some of the old money men could. Instead, he knew his worth because he had cried and sweated until he had probably knocked at least a decade off his life. He had earned it all. He had come from nothing, and worked until the world ended. What was Jasmine? All that had happened was a promotion from personal assistant to wife. Was there really a difference?

  What if what that woman said was true… would Ethan really cheat on her, because he could? Because it was expected of him? How many of those men who looked so in love with their women cheated here and there? Even Francesca Blake was completely oblivious to her husband’s philandering around the world. Richard Blake was not much to look at! The whole reason he could even cheat was because of his money and position. Ethan, who was hotter than most men Jasmine came across… sheesh.

  No telling how long Jasmine stayed at that overlook, pacing, sitting in her car, on her car, and even leaning against the guardrail until she looked deep into the maw of the green valley below. That’s when she realized that this was the overlook she and Ethan “shared” more than once. Of course I would come here. Jasmine wanted to cry again, but the dirt kicking up with every breeze prevented her.

  Once upon a time, this view had been picturesque. Almost like a fairy-tale. Ethan was always his most princely, his most gentlemanly whenever he brought Jasmine here. Those were the memories of him she wanted to cling to, but what was the use? Jasmine saw this view for what it was now. Before, she had only seen the greens, the waterways, the birds of amazing colors flying here and there. Now she saw more. The clearings making way for new mansions, new vacation homes. The smoke in the distance from illegal burnings that nobody would get in trouble for because pay them off, honey. The invasive flora introduced because Mrs. So-and-so simply had to have this “pretty looking plant” when she went on honeymoon in Europe, Africa, Southeast Asia. Privilege allowed these people to destroy this picturesque piece of nature.

  Jasmine slumped against the hood of her car, tired, hungry, thirsty, but unable to do anything but sob into her hands. The more she thought about it, the more she realized what a mistake it was to legally bind herself to this way of thinking.

  “I have to do it,” she said to herself. “I have to end it.” She glanced at her phone on the driver’s seat and noticed a million texts and unanswered calls.

  Before she could dread having to break up with Ethan a day before their wedding, she heard tires squealing on the road behind her. Somehow, Jasmine knew who and what it was.

  Sure enough, without even having to turn around, she saw a black Lamborghini pull up alongside her red Dodge Viper. Ethan had opened his door before shutting off the engine.

  “What the hell!” he shouted, approaching Jasmine even after she slipped off the hood of her car and went to the edge of the overlook. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to find you? One minute you were at the restaurant, and the next you were gone and nobody had any idea where you were!”

  His anger was palpable, but it wasn’t the kind directed at her, per se. He was afraid. Maybe if Jasmine hadn’t been a kidnapping victim before, Ethan wouldn’t shit himself over her sudden disappearance, let alone a day before her wedding. Even so, Jasmine had a hard time bringing herself to care.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, hoping he couldn’t see her tear-stained face. “I had to get away and clear my thoughts.”

  “Would’ve been nice if you had helped me with your parents. We almost got banned from that restaurant! Not that I fucking care about French cuisine, but I do a lot of business dinners and lunches there…”

  Jasmine flinched. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll make sure they’re gone as soon as possible.”

  “It’s only because I do so much business there that they’ll let it slide this time… wait, what?” Ethan sighed. “That’s ridiculous. We’re getting married tomorrow. They can leave by the time we’re back from the honeymoon.”

  “I’ll go with them. Maybe they’ll take me back to the farm. I can take the cats too, so they’ll be out of your hair.” Farms needed cats, right? Blackbeard would be in shock, but maybe he could be an indoor cat there too.

  “What are you talking about? Jasmine, you’re talking nonsense. Even if you’re planning on visiting them, that’s definitely not going to be for a while yet. Why would you take the damned cats? That sounds like a pain in the… why are we even having this conversation? Come on, we need to go back home. People are waiting for us.”

  Jasmine looked over her shoulder. There he was. The man she loved more than words could say. Dressed in his slick Armani suit, no tie. A stylist was supposed to come later to touch up his hair for the wedding, but he still looked damn good now, even with the breeze playing with the longer strands on his head. I can smell his cologne from here. That wasn’t a knock against it. Jasmine always searched for the scent of Mr. Christian. It comforted her. Usually.

  “I can’t go back with you.” Jasmine turned to the valley below. “Maybe ever.”

  “Jasmine.” He came to her, attempting to put his hand on her shoulder before she pulled away, panic flooding her heart. Don’t. Don’t tempt me. “What are you talking about? Come on. We need to go back!”

  Was that still fear in his voice? No way. “Don’t make this harder for me. Let me go.”

  Silence befell them. Jasmine looked over the cliff. She wasn’t suicidal, but she imagined jumping off and letting the wind carry her away. Across the river. Into the mountains. Far, far away into the countryside where people didn’t worry about the petty shit these rich people did.

  “I like to think I’m pretty good at reading between the lines of what people say,” Ethan said, steadily. “I have a suspicion that you’re talking about leaving me.”

  Here came the tears again. Jasmine tried to wipe them away, but they came faster than she could brush them off. Don’t look like such a fool! How could she help it, though? She had heard those women. She would be nothing but a fool.

  “Ethan,” she finally said, forcing her voice
low, cool. “It will never work. You know it. I know it. Today was a gross display of what lays before us. I am, and always will be, a liability to your business and, yes, your personal life. Because those are one and the same, right?”

  “Jasmine…”

  “No!” she stepped away again, determined to put both physical and emotional distance between them. “You listen to me, Ethan Cole!” There. If she called him by his full name like the others did, then she could prove to herself that he was nothing but a distant figure. An unattainable man. “You just don’t get it!” Her screams increased in power. Her shouts reverberated through her body. Her yells echoed in the growing wind. “I can’t take it! I’m tired of everyone talking behind my back, or saying shit right in my face and thinking I can’t understand them because I’m too stupid! Do you get it, Ethan? I am trash compared to these other people. They think I am disposable. They will never give me basic respect unless it somehow benefits their relationship to you, because why the fuck would they? Ha! Maybe you can ignore when they’re rude to you because of your upbringing, but how can I? I have nothing to fall back on. I don’t have the fact that I’ve built up my own billion-dollar company, or that I’m even somehow a key player in its continuation. Don’t patronize me. I know what you’re thinking. Some romantic notion that I emotionally help you keep going every day. That’s great, Ethan! I don’t doubt that you love me. I love you, too! We just should never get married!”

  He stared at her, part dumbfounded, part irate. Did he think that she wasn’t thinking these things? “I had no idea it was this bad for you.”

  “Every day I wake up wondering how people will look down on me today. Will they sneer about my fashion choices? My parents? My background with you? Ethan, everyone keeps calling me a stripper and a prostitute. Maybe you don’t hear it, but I do!”

  His brows furrowed. Anger? At her? At those people? “I don’t doubt that some people are jealous of you, or too bored for their own good. But…”

  “Don’t you dare but me! Are you not listening? I feel like I’m choking every time I’m around those types of people! They’re stealing my air and replacing it with poison! If they’re not outright ignoring me, they’re only nice because they’re afraid of what you’ll do or say. I can’t take it. I don’t want to take it anymore. Please, Ethan…” She wobbled on her heels, but somehow managed to not fall. “Please don’t make me go through it anymore. I don’t want to lose you but… what if we come to resent each other?”