Wedding Date with the Billionaire

by Andrea Bolter

  Turning on the tap, he eased her under the faucet so that the hot water flowed down her body. His wet hands felt her all over, as if they were committing her every curve and crevice to memory. Her body yielded to his every move, silently begging him not to stop even for a second. She’d never had a sexual experience with anyone that was even close to what she’d had with him at such a young age, intense and united and uninhibited. Both were each other’s first lovers. How shocking it was that here they were revisiting that joining like a favorite travel destination they had to see again.

  She wondered if she seemed different to him after all this time, as he did to her. He slid his hand between her legs, fingers exploring. Her center clutched down on him, dying for this, dying for him. They thrummed together like musicians playing the same tune. Just when she thought she might not be able to take any more without exploding, he dropped down to his knees so that his mouth and tongue could cover her very womanhood. And there he gloried with the spray of the water raining down on them, the heavy drops rolling along his dripping hair to his taut body and glinting skin. As soon as he found the right groove, he stayed put until she threw her head back and her torso rollicked over and over again with blinding pleasure. After which she could barely stand.

  Once the tremble passed through and she steadied, he wrapped her in two big, fluffy, white towels and lifted her into his arms. He carried her back into the cabin, into the bedroom, where he placed her down on his king-size bed with its many plush pillows. Admiring her like she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, he reached in his travel bag for a condom, unrolled it onto himself and laid his body on top of hers.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IN THE MORNING, Kento opened the front door of his cabin to find the breakfast tray he’d called for. He carried it into the bedroom, where Erin was just stirring, looking so sleepy and pretty it tugged at his heartstrings. It was really almost too much to grasp that she had been in his bed again after all this time, which sent his mind back to all-night erotic encounters when they couldn’t get enough of each other and he could scarcely grant her a minute’s rest after lovemaking until they were at it again, hungry for more.

  This was stuff that belonged in fairy tales. Things like long-lost loves didn’t happen in real life. Although there she was, no longer merely the mythological siren who’d inhabited his visions. What had happened so far this weekend had truly brought him face-to-face with the reality of her. Not the milky recollections he’d traveled to Seattle to revisit so that he could leave them behind. Because making love with her didn’t feel like something he was going to want to leave in the past.

  He worried that the result would be the reverse of what he intended, which was to forget her.

  He snatched the single pink rose from its vase that had graced the room service tray. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he brushed the velvety bloom across Erin’s cheek as a wake-up call. She smiled but squirmed away. He chased after her with the flower, this time using it to stroke the shoulder that peeked out from the blankets. “Maid of honor, it’s wedding day.”

  Her eyes clicked wide-open like a cartoon character’s. “Oh, my gosh. Are we late?”

  “We’re due in the main lodge for the morning get-together.” The bridal party had been instructed to meet for some kind of shared activity to begin the big day on the right footing. Kento hoped it wasn’t some kind of guided meditation where he was going to have to listen to his breath for half an hour or something like that. After the night he’d just shared in carnal ecstasy with Erin—which a hunch told him he shouldn’t have—the last thing he wanted to do was check into his thoughts. “Do you know what this is all about?”

  “Nope.”

  “Up and going, missy.” He pulled back the blanket both to shock her awake and also because he wanted to see her naked body again.

  “You are sneaky,” she shrieked.

  “I am. Do you want to shower?” At that, they smirked, remembering the erotic encounter under the outdoor shower last night.

  “I’ll go back to my room, because I have to change into casual clothes. After the mystery activity, the girls have hair and makeup, and you have a final tux fitting.”

  They downed a quick breakfast, and Erin departed. As agreed, an hour later he knocked on her door to accompany her to the lodge’s lounge, where they entered arm in arm as the couple everyone thought they were. It turned out the group was to participate in a nature drawing class, designed to destress, as explained by Suni, the wedding planner.

  Kento didn’t hate the plan. After Erin left to get changed and he showered, this time indoors and alone, a muddle of emotions had brought confusion to his usually organized brain. He’d just made shattering love with her after years of hurt feelings on both of their parts. They were both closed off to love because of each other. What a paradox that the only person he’d ever wanted to be committed to was the very one who’d killed his belief in the practice. Tomorrow he’d go back to Japan with no reason to return to Seattle. Erin and he were supposed to be posing as a couple, not becoming one! All together, he was in the middle of one hot mess. A drawing class, with a break from words, sounded like as good an idea as any.

  As soon as they walked in, he and Erin sprang into action as maid of honor and best man, making sure that everyone received an apron to wear and was ushered to a place. Easels were set up for each person, along with sketch paper, pencils and erasers.

  An art teacher, her apron pockets overflowing with extra supplies, circled around, introducing herself as Natasha. “Lucas and Christy, up here.” Erin pointed to two easels front and center facing the glass wall.

  While Erin was directing traffic, Kento took it upon himself to help her into her apron. He slung the strap over her head. She quickly glanced his way to acknowledge his doings and then continued, “Mother of the bride, let’s have you over here.” She gestured to her aunt Olivia.

  Carefully lifting Erin’s hair out from under the apron’s strap, he appreciated probably far too much the way her shoulders rose at his slightest touch. Tugging on the waist strings, he enjoyed even more the feeling of circling them around her, giving a few extra pulls for emphasis.

  Yes, he was ready to tie her up like a bundle, carry her back to his cabin and lay her down on his bed, just as he had last night with the towels after their outdoor shower. He’d like her all to himself, and for as long as he wanted. Obviously there’d be none of that on wedding day—not to mention the fact that, if he was smart, he’d keep himself in check for the rest of the weekend. Running an enormous corporation, Kento well knew that it was the long game that was important, that no moves should ever be made that only benefited the short run.

  “Mother of the groom. You come and sit up front, too.”

  He was glad that only the bridal party was in attendance and he wouldn’t have to see Bunny’s unfriendly face this morning. Maybe drawing could distract him from the bona fide anger toward her and her absent husband that slowly burned like acid in his throat. Having learned that what he’d held to be gospel all of these years wasn’t exactly as he’d remembered it, there was a lot of new information to manage.

  How he wished they could turn back time and try again. Maybe things would have ended up the same, but maybe not. As it stood, what had happened had left an indelible mark on both of them. It had convinced him he’d never marry, would never be able to count on someone or be sure what their motives were. Attitudes born from what he’d grown up around. For Erin, he’d become the first in a series of abandonments that left her permanently fractured, a guilt he’d have to live with.

  Once everyone was settled in, Kento brought Erin to a couple of side-by-side easels. “Welcome to this very special morning,” Natasha began with a gesture to Christy and Lucas, who beamed. Kento could hardly imagine what the excitement of a wedding morning would feel like to a groom. It wasn’t a thought he’d ever entertained. He’d attended
weddings in Japan, those of employees and business acquaintances. Some were Western-style. Others were traditionally Japanese, with the bride wearing a special white wedding kimono and headdress and the groom in a dark kimono adorned with his family crest. The wedding custom of san-san-kudo struck him as quite romantic, the ritual exchanging of cups of sake in a binding ceremony, a symbol of their union. Yet he’d never pictured himself in either that kimono or tux.

  “Don’t feel like you have to sit at your easel the whole time,” Natasha continued and pointed to a side table with refreshments. “There’s coffee and mimosas. We’re just here to relax, have fun and learn a little bit about sketching nature. And no worries about the results, absolutely no judgments allowed,” she said with a kind smile.

  “Today we’ll focus on drawing one of the trees that we see out our beautiful glass wall,” Natasha said, continuing with the lesson, an easel beside her facing the students. “So pick out a single tree or a cluster of them. We have many specimens to choose from. Zero in on something that strikes your fancy. There are no rights or wrongs.”

  Strikes your fancy. Erin struck his fancy.

  “Let’s lift up our pencils now and create the trunk of the tree with two vertical lines. You can decide on the thickness of the trunk and on its height,” Natasha instructed and demonstrated.

  “I’m drawing a tree, but it’s not as big and tall as my future husband,” Christy exclaimed, loud enough for people around her to hear. Lucas’s size was his most distinguishing feature. Everyone cooed. Kento side-eyed Erin. It occurred to him how hard this wedding must be for her, having just been left by a guy who was surely the world’s biggest idiot for not appreciating her. Kento picked up his pencil and began to sketch.

  Natasha walked around, counseling anyone who signaled for help with their drawing. “Take a close look at the tree you’ve selected. Every tree is special, very different from the one next to it. Take note of how the branches extend from your tree trunk. Vary the sizes and the tapers of those branches. They are all individuals.”

  Several people looked up for assistance, and Natasha acknowledged each of them. Kento enjoyed the work, not obeying the teacher’s instructions but instead letting his pencil take him wherever it wanted to. It was indeed relaxing to sketch. As his pencil danced, he kept glancing over to Erin, who was involved at her easel as well, his eyes only willing to go a minute or two without peering at her again.

  “And when you’re ready, you can begin adding the foliage to your branches,” Natasha said. “Hold your pencil flat against the paper and shade some of your leaves dark and some of them light to imitate sun and shadow.”

  Drawing, drawing, Kento’s pencil moved fast, easily knowing where to use shade and what to emphasize.

  “Now let’s blend the base of the tree into its surroundings. How does the tree take root in the ground? Is there dirt or grass surrounding it?”

  When time was up, Natasha asked if anyone would like to show their drawing to the group. MacKenzie, Amber and Divya all three raised their arms high, shaking their hands to get noticed. Natasha held up Divya’s first, and everyone clapped politely. Kento didn’t think the drawing was in a realistic scale. But Natasha found something to praise in each drawing. As she returned to the front of the class, she stopped at Kento’s easel and took in what he’d created.

  “Here’s someone who took the idea of individualism to heart.” Before he could stop her, Natasha lifted Kento’s drawing for the class to see. There were oohs and aahs in response.

  His sketch was not of a tree, or even a branch or leaf.

  No, his was a finely drawn rendering of Erin’s magnificent face.

  * * *

  “I’m so nervous,” Christy shrieked as the stylist rolled a curling iron on her hair. “What if I trip? What if Lucas flubs his vows?”

  “It’ll be fine. Everybody here is on your side.” Erin was having her hair fussed at beside Christy at the lodge’s salon, its walls made of brick with brushed-nickel appointments. Studded silver-framed mirrors hung were hung in front of each styling chair, which were light blue leather. Erin reached sideways to give a reassuring squeeze to the bride’s hand.

  Thinking about the words she’d just spewed, Erin knew she didn’t have anyone on her side. Sure, her parents would try to shield her from, let’s say, an untimely death. But support her in what she might want? Only if it was in line with their own wishes. And Kento? Here today and then, literally, gone tomorrow, regardless of the intensity they’d shared since arriving on the island. She tried not to dwell on that. The party line they circulated was that they’d fallen back in love and would be visiting each other as much as possible. The rest would be figured out later.

  Amber, Divya and MacKenzie had already had their hair blown, set and poufed and were being ministered to by the makeup artist. “When did all of this happen with you and Kento?” Christy asked. “You never even told me you were in touch with him.”

  Yikes. Erin knew the scrutiny was going to get complicated. She wouldn’t confide in her cousin about the fake-out. Christy was a Barclay through and through, about to wed her stockbroker with family hopes that she’d soon give birth to the next generation of opulence. Erin didn’t trust her not to report to her mother or aunt with any inside information. Boiled down, Erin had never been especially close with her cousin, and she wasn’t about to start now.

  “Oh, we started talking when he found out I was going to be your maid of honor,” she bluffed. “I guess the old feelings resurfaced.”

  “Erin, that was so cute how Kento drew that picture of you instead of the trees,” MacKenzie said as the makeup artist tested different shades of lipstick on the back of her hand. “You are so lucky.”

  Erin smiled, more to herself than anyone. If they only knew.

  “Are there any good single guys at this wedding?” Divya bubbled.

  “Demarcus Hall is nice,” Amber piped up. “What do we know about him?”

  “Christy,” MacKenzie asked, “does he work with Lucas?”

  “No. They coach kids’ basketball together.”

  “Aw.”

  “Aw.”

  “Aw.”

  “Is he unattached?”

  “I think so. We told him he was welcome to bring a date to the weekend.”

  “But he didn’t!”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Didn’t!”

  The modern world. Someone found someone else attractive and then tried to suss out as much as possible about the other without directly asking. It was a surprise that these bridesmaids hadn’t already cybersearched groomsman Demarcus to the point that they knew his income, the value of his home and where he went to school. Still, it was all probably better than the archaic arranged-marriage routine Erin’s parents adhered to. Obviously, they should have better researched Harris and not relied on his parents’ sales pitch for their son.

  Kento had mentioned yesterday that he figured this wedding weekend was especially hard on her only a few weeks after her breakup. It really wasn’t, as far as the subject of weddings, since she certainly didn’t love Harris and hadn’t pictured marrying him. It was the humiliation of being broken up with that hurt. Which was why playacting that she was back together with Kento was proving to be a successful distraction. People were still nosy enough to talk about the two of them as a couple, but at least the focus was off Harris, everyone in seeming agreement that new-world Kento was at least better for Erin than the reckless playboy. This charade was a really good idea.

  Or was it?

  It might have been if they’d stuck to the pretend part instead of writing a symphony with their bodies during the most divine lovemaking Erin had ever known. Things had always been exciting between her and Kento in that department. But what they’d shared last night was a mature eroticism that was so poignant and complete, it made their young adult eagerness of the pa
st an unfair contrast. The rush she felt in her solar plexus was escalating. What they’d been sharing this weekend together, through all of their walks and talks and the uncovering of horrors, had burrowed deep into Erin’s soul. The sheer rawness of it was terrifying.

  It was far easier to imagine a loveless coupling, formed to carry on family names and fortunes, where emotions weren’t ventured and, therefore, couldn’t be lost. With Kento it was the opposite—to be with him was to live powerfully, as if every day counted. She was almost exhausted by all the feeling she’d done since arriving at this wedding.

  What was on Kento’s mind at this very moment as he had his tux fitting with the guys? She wondered if he was thinking about her as much as she was about him.

  “So, Erin,” Divya broke into her musings, “do you think you’ll move to Tokyo?”

  Which prompted a barrage of inquiries as everyone was being primped and prettied and polished and perfumed. “Would you live at Kento’s or find somewhere new together?”

  “Does he live in one of those high-rise apartments with all the lights on the buildings?”

  “Do you speak Japanese?”

  “Does he work 24/7?”

  “Does he want kids?”

  Eek! Erin didn’t know how to respond to all that probing. She locked eyes with her own reflection in the mirror facing her salon chair. She knew better than to be wishing those questions really were hers to answer, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  “Bridal party, please help yourself to an energy-boosting light lunch,” wedding planner Suni sang out as she entered the salon along with a food server wheeling a cart. All of which happened at the perfect time to divert everyone from their interrogation. At least for now. “Green tea to sip. There’s spinach salad with avocados, walnuts and dried goji berries. Grilled chicken breast. And we’ve got some dark chocolate to snack on. All chosen for their health benefits. After hair and makeup, you’ll be dressing for the ceremony.”