Page 43
Story: Resisting the Billionaire
“I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.” I know I promised I’d take care of things from now on, but this is one of the few instances she needs to be present for.
I glance at Gabriel, who simply shrugs in response. Really, though, why would he know where she is?
Tina gives me an answering smile, all teeth and no warmth. “Your whole party must be here before we can start the tour.” I normally appreciate an insistence on following the rules, but I’m not in the mood for it today.
My phone finally dings in response to the five text messages and three unanswered calls I’ve already sent Serena this morning.
Serena:I’m so sorry, I have an emergency. Go ahead and pick a venue. I trust your judgment.
I mentally scream, not caring about whatever emergency she has going on right now, but keep my face calm as I tell Tina, “Looks like it’ll be just me and Gabriel for the tour.”
She gives me a fake frown. “I’m sorry, but the bride needs to be present. In our experience, you can’t properly make a decision without both parties here.”
My shoulders slump, defeated. I spent all this time waiting for this specific place and I doubt she’ll reschedule another tour for me anytime soon. It would have been a personal triumph for me to coordinate a wedding here. Every event coordinator in the city who has run a wedding at this hotel has had a huge boost in business.
“You must have misunderstood,” Gabriel chimes in. “We were waiting for the wedding planner.”
Tina narrows her eyes at me. “I thought you were the wedding planner.”
“She’s my fiancee.” His arm slides around my waist, warm and sure, and he bends down to whisper in my ear, “Just go with it. It’s for show.”
I’m not complaining. Heaven help me because I like it a little too much.
She glances between us, suspicious of something, but has to take him at his word. “My apologies.”
She probably recognizes my voice from the phone, where I clearly introduced myself as the wedding planner, but it’s not as if she’s going to call Gabriel a liar to his face.
“Frances will conduct your tour today.” She leads us over to a bubbly girl a few years younger than me. “Let me know how she does on the feedback form you fill out at the end,” she frowns, eyeing the woman with distaste.
Well, I’ll obviously give her a perfect score now.
“Hi, there,” the girl shakes our hands enthusiastically. “I was so excited when I saw your name on our calendar,” she tells Gabriel, looking at him in awe. She waits till Tina’s out of earshot before adding, “And if you decide to have your wedding here, we’ll fit you in. I promise.”
Oh, I like her already.
She shows us to the grand ballroom, Gabriel’s hand resting lightly on my lower back. I can barely focus on what she’s telling us about the room’s capacity and dimensions because the majority of my brain is zeroed in on that singular point of contact between us, his palm hot through the cotton of my dress. I’m in a world of trouble when Tina discovers my true identity later, but I can’t even worry about that right now. The only thing I can concentrate on is how much I like having his hand there. How right it feels.
And how wrong I am to be feeling this way.
I move away, pretending to study the crown molding on the walls, asking about bringing in our own catering, reserving a large block of rooms in the hotel for guests. Anything so I don’t fully step into his arms, demanding more of his touch.
But as she leads us to a slightly smaller room that serves as a cocktail hour area, his hand returns. And I… let it.
When his fingers trail featherlight down my arm, I let him do it.
When his hand brushes against mine and our fingers intertwine as we head to where the ceremony will take place, I let it happen.
It’s just for show, he said. For pretend. So they believe we’re a couple and can finish the tour.
What would it be like to marry this man? To stand under that arch and gaze into his bright blue eyes as we exchange our vows?
My God, am I delusional much?
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Frances beams, making a sweeping motion with her arm that encompasses the area.
Decorated in an art deco style that reeks of classic New York sophistication, it truly feels like we’ve stepped back in time, the glitz and glamour of the Roaring Twenties permeating the atmosphere. No wonder this is such a highly sought out venue. The pictures online, as amazing as they are, barely do it justice.
“Can you see yourself getting married here?” she asks with excitement.
I glance at Gabriel, who simply shrugs in response. Really, though, why would he know where she is?
Tina gives me an answering smile, all teeth and no warmth. “Your whole party must be here before we can start the tour.” I normally appreciate an insistence on following the rules, but I’m not in the mood for it today.
My phone finally dings in response to the five text messages and three unanswered calls I’ve already sent Serena this morning.
Serena:I’m so sorry, I have an emergency. Go ahead and pick a venue. I trust your judgment.
I mentally scream, not caring about whatever emergency she has going on right now, but keep my face calm as I tell Tina, “Looks like it’ll be just me and Gabriel for the tour.”
She gives me a fake frown. “I’m sorry, but the bride needs to be present. In our experience, you can’t properly make a decision without both parties here.”
My shoulders slump, defeated. I spent all this time waiting for this specific place and I doubt she’ll reschedule another tour for me anytime soon. It would have been a personal triumph for me to coordinate a wedding here. Every event coordinator in the city who has run a wedding at this hotel has had a huge boost in business.
“You must have misunderstood,” Gabriel chimes in. “We were waiting for the wedding planner.”
Tina narrows her eyes at me. “I thought you were the wedding planner.”
“She’s my fiancee.” His arm slides around my waist, warm and sure, and he bends down to whisper in my ear, “Just go with it. It’s for show.”
I’m not complaining. Heaven help me because I like it a little too much.
She glances between us, suspicious of something, but has to take him at his word. “My apologies.”
She probably recognizes my voice from the phone, where I clearly introduced myself as the wedding planner, but it’s not as if she’s going to call Gabriel a liar to his face.
“Frances will conduct your tour today.” She leads us over to a bubbly girl a few years younger than me. “Let me know how she does on the feedback form you fill out at the end,” she frowns, eyeing the woman with distaste.
Well, I’ll obviously give her a perfect score now.
“Hi, there,” the girl shakes our hands enthusiastically. “I was so excited when I saw your name on our calendar,” she tells Gabriel, looking at him in awe. She waits till Tina’s out of earshot before adding, “And if you decide to have your wedding here, we’ll fit you in. I promise.”
Oh, I like her already.
She shows us to the grand ballroom, Gabriel’s hand resting lightly on my lower back. I can barely focus on what she’s telling us about the room’s capacity and dimensions because the majority of my brain is zeroed in on that singular point of contact between us, his palm hot through the cotton of my dress. I’m in a world of trouble when Tina discovers my true identity later, but I can’t even worry about that right now. The only thing I can concentrate on is how much I like having his hand there. How right it feels.
And how wrong I am to be feeling this way.
I move away, pretending to study the crown molding on the walls, asking about bringing in our own catering, reserving a large block of rooms in the hotel for guests. Anything so I don’t fully step into his arms, demanding more of his touch.
But as she leads us to a slightly smaller room that serves as a cocktail hour area, his hand returns. And I… let it.
When his fingers trail featherlight down my arm, I let him do it.
When his hand brushes against mine and our fingers intertwine as we head to where the ceremony will take place, I let it happen.
It’s just for show, he said. For pretend. So they believe we’re a couple and can finish the tour.
What would it be like to marry this man? To stand under that arch and gaze into his bright blue eyes as we exchange our vows?
My God, am I delusional much?
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Frances beams, making a sweeping motion with her arm that encompasses the area.
Decorated in an art deco style that reeks of classic New York sophistication, it truly feels like we’ve stepped back in time, the glitz and glamour of the Roaring Twenties permeating the atmosphere. No wonder this is such a highly sought out venue. The pictures online, as amazing as they are, barely do it justice.
“Can you see yourself getting married here?” she asks with excitement.
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