Page 10 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Isla

"I’m not ready for this." I dab on the lipstick, then glance at my reflection in the bedroom mirror. At least, I don’t have to worry about my hair.

That’s about the only thing I’m happy about, all things considered.

Oh, also, the Jimmy Choo's on my feet. He insisted on purchasing a whole new wardrobe for me, which I, of course, refused. Still, when he had so many pairs of my favorite shoes—and in my size—delivered to me, I wasn’t able to turn them down.

I’m determined to maintain my independence in this arrangement, but not even I can say no to couture shoes.

I opted for a simple blue dress that nips in at my waist and flows in an A-line to below my knees.

The color of the sapphire on my ring finger matches the color of my dress.

I purchased this dress a few months ago and haven’t had a chance to wear it.

I thought it was perfect for this occasion, but now I’m not too sure.

Earlier today, I managed to slip away long enough to see Karma West Sovrano for a fitting.

She’s the hottest name in designing bridal wear and she agreed to come up with a dress for me and for my bridesmaids, who will be meeting with her separately.

I’ve known Karma since she was a teenager and we all saw her as Summer’s little sister.

It’s hard to believe how much things have changed.

Still, I truly appreciate her willingness to take me on, given how last-minute everything is.

When I pointed that out to her, she brushed it aside.

Apparently, she would have been more shocked if I’d told her I had months for her to design my dress.

She said she’s become so accustomed to working with insane deadlines, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she had more time.

It wasn’t until I stood in her atelier and her team member took my measurements that the reality of my situation began to dawn on me.

I’m getting married to a man I barely know. He might insist it’s a fake wedding, but it feels all-too-real to me. Which, given this relationship has a sell-by date, does not bode well for me. Which is why I need to protect myself from feeling anything for him.

"You’re the picture of understated elegance," my friend, Summer Sterling, murmurs from where she’s sprawled on my bed.

"You mean I look boring."

"That’s not what I meant." She laughs.

"You implied it." I frown at my reflection. "When I bought this, I thought it’d be perfect to wear to client meetings. But I’m not sure it’s enough to wear when we announce this on social media.

" My breath catches. "Oh god, did I just say make an announcement on social media?

" I shake my head. "I can’t do this. I can’t.

" My heart flutters in my chest like a dragonfly trapped in a jar.

My throat hurts, and I squeeze my hands together to stop them from trembling.

"You can." Summer rises to her feet and walks over to me. She’s dressed, as always, in a flowing skirt and peasant blouse. Her boho chic outfit hints at the bump she’s sporting around her middle.

"If I can get pregnant—which I never thought I would do so soon—you can face the social media audience. "

"I… I can’t." My palms dampen. I begin to rub them on my dress then stop. "I can’t do this."

"Rubbish, of course you can." A new voice sounds from the direction of the doorway.

I turn to find Zara Chopra propping a hand on her hip.

As usual, she’s dressed in a pantsuit and high heeled pumps.

Her hair is blow-dried, every strand in place.

Her makeup flawless. She looks like a million bucks, or like a hotshot lawyer who’s capable of running a Fortune 500 company.

Or a country, which she’s going to make a bid for very soon.

"Hey, Z, you came."

"Of course I came," Zara scoffs. "It’s not every day I have a message from one of my best friends saying she’s about to marry the most eligible bachelor in London."

"I thought that was Hunter Whittington?"

Zara seems taken aback, then she tosses her hair over her shoulder. "That stuck-up-twatwaffle? Not likely. I prefer my men to be more salt-of-the-earth."

"Thought you wanted to lick the salt off his skin," I mumble, then cough.

Zara blinks, then cackles out a laugh. "Oh, good one, girlfriend. You should be talking. Have you seen the picture of you and Liam getting out of his car yesterday?"

"Wait, there’s a picture of us?"

"Of course there’s a picture of the two of you. It’s all anyone can talk about on social media." She pulls her phone from her Birkin and swipes her fingers across the screen. Then walks over and holds it out to me.

I study the blurry video shot from a distance.

It’s still unmistakably me getting out of his Jag.

Liam holds out his hand, I hesitate, then take it.

He pulls me up to my feet, and for a second, I’m toe-to-toe with him.

I tip up my chin. Even with the shitty resolution, the look on my face is indisputable.

Longing, lust, and something else… A vulnerability I try so hard to keep the world from seeing.

And it’s right there, for everyone to see.

Liam lowers his head, when the screen shakes.

We hear the sound of someone yelling—probably Liam’s security—then the screen goes dark.

"Oooh," Summer says and fans herself. "That’s some chemistry, lady. You’ve been holding out on me. So, that’s why you agreed to marry him?"

Zara turns to her. "You must be Summer. I’ve heard so much about you from Isla."

"Wait, you guys have never met?" I glance between them. "I can’t believe that. Zara, Summer is one of my best friends. We’ve known each other since university. And Summer, Zara and I met on a work gig, and we’ve been friends ever since. I’m so happy both of you are here today."

"Of course silly." Summer rolls her eyes. "Where else would I be when you’re about to announce your engagement to the world?

I feel the color drain from my face. "Don’t remind me."

"Aw, sweetie, you don’t have to be nervous. You’re going to be great." Summer squeezes my arm, then turns to Zara. "It’s good to meet you, Z. I can call you Z, right?" Summer throws her arms around Zara and hugs her. "I feel like I know you already."

Zara stiffens. She snaps her gaze to me with a look that screams, is she always this friendly?

I chuckle and nod my head. That’s Summer for you.

Bubbly, happy, friendly, and always so good at putting everyone at ease.

She’s a born hostess, that one, and marrying Sinclair Sterling, one of the most powerful men on the continent, has only helped bring her into her own.

It’s like she’s finally found herself. Guess that’s what falling in love and finding where you belong does to you. You come into your own self.

"Isla?"

I blink to find both Zara and Summer looking at me, twin expressions of curiosity on their faces.

"Have you told him?" Zara asks.

I glance between both of my friends. This might be the first time they’ve met, but they have one more thing in common, other than me as a friend.

On separate occasions, I shared with each of them the one thing I haven’t mentioned to anyone else in the world.

Not my family. Not any of my other friends.

They each caught me when I was at my lowest, and I was unable to stop myself from confiding in them.

It’s also why I called the two of them over to give me a boost of confidence.

"No." I shake my head.

The two of them exchange glances.

"You’re going to marry him and live in close quarters with him. Don’t you think you should?" Zara frowns.

"I don’t know.” I wrap my arms about my shoulders. "Maybe I don’t need to tell him at all."

"Is that wise?" Summer massages her belly. "He’s going to be your husband. If you tell him, I’m sure he’ll be supportive."

“I agree.” Zara leans forward on the balls of her feet. “The man wants to marry you. Surely, he loves you enough to look past any surface issues.”

“This is more than a surface issue.” I twist my fingers together. “It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever faced in my life.”

“I understand, Isla.” Zara closes the distance to me and touches my shoulder. “And I don’t mean to minimize what you’ve gone through. I know how stressed you are that he’ll reject you, but have you thought of the fact that he might accept you as-is?”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“That’s his shortcoming, not yours.” Zara tips up her chin. “But I don’t foresee that happening. You chose the man. Trust your choice, lady. Trust in the fact that he loves you enough to support you and be by your side so you don’t have to go through this journey alone.”

Only he doesn’t love me, and this wedding is a farce. I hunch my shoulders, “I wish I could be as positive about this as you, but I don’t feel strong enough to take that risk.”

Besides, what if I told him, and he called off the arrangement? What then? My fledgling company wouldn’t stand a chance of surviving. No, I’m doing the right thing by not bringing this up at this stage.

“You do realize that once you tell him you’ll feel lighter?” Summer says softly.

"Also, Liam Kincaid isn’t stupid. You know that better than any of us. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out—assuming he doesn’t know already."

“What? No.” Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. But seriously, why would he know something like this? I shake my head. “I’m sure he doesn’t.

Zara knits her eyebrows over her nose. "Still, wouldn’t it be better if you told him first?"

"I… I’m going to make sure the chances of him finding out are minimized."

"Eh?" She blinks. "How do you do that?"

"Umm—" It’s because the wedding is not what it seems. This entire thing is a charade I’ve had to play along with because, thanks to my advice, Liam’s bride dropped him before they could get married.

And now, I have to take her place. And, of course, I need to get impregnated…

Artificially… Soon. So…yeah… No… I can’t even tell my friends because I signed a non-disclosure agreement that prevents me from sharing this with anyone else.

I can’t tell a single soul. Anyway, it sounds so far-fetched.

What is this? Some kind of silly romance novel with a fake wedding?

To be honest, I’m not sure they’d believe me.

I know I wouldn’t. I draw my lower lip in between my teeth. "I, uh, insisted on separate bedrooms."

"And he agreed?" A look of suspicion enters Zara’s eyes.

"He wants to marry me, and this was a deal breaker for me, so he agreed." My voice comes out confident, though I confess, I feel anything but. "So" —I glance down at myself— "what do you think; should I change or not?"

Zara looks closely at the dress. So does Summer. Then, as one, they say, "Change."

"Maybe this is too much?" I rub my palms down the satin skirt of the dress I settled on. It’s a deep burgundy color and brings out the highlights in my hair. The neckline is high in the front, and it has lacy sleeves that cling to my arms and end at my wrists. From the front, the dress is demure; the back of the dress plunges to just above my butt crack. It’s the mullet of dresses—business in the front; party in the back.

I smother an hysterical giggle. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

I’m reconsidering this outfit, but the doorbell rings. Liam’s chauffeur is here to pick me up, security in tow, and Zara and Summer have agreed to accompany me so I don’t have to make the journey alone.

I have just enough time to check my makeup—or lack thereof, since I decided on only a little mascara and lipstick to complement the dress. I wanted to look sexy, without being obvious. Interesting, but not come-hither. Not boring, but not too provocative.

We arrive at Liam’s apartment, a penthouse with a view over London that’s unrivaled, with a lot of chrome and steel, clean lines and sharp angles, and glass. There’s lots of glass—from the tables to the shelves, to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the atrium where we’ve been led.

After placing my handbag on a side table, I set up my selfie ring light and get my phone ready for us to film.

Now, I glance out of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and wonder, again, what the hell I’m getting myself into.

"You look great." Zara squeezes my arm. "Now remember, you need to make the audience your bitch. They are dying to hear from you. They love you. They can’t wait to find out what your big news is about."

"They’ll have to find me first, considering my social media posts haven’t been particularly successful in the past.” I scoff.

"Oh, they’ll find you all right. You put out the word, and they’ll come running. You’re incredible. Your perspective is unique. All you have to do is call, and they’ll come running to you."

"Wow, that’s some positive reinforcement you have right there."

"You bet, sister. Now go out there and grab reality by its balls, and make it rearrange itself for you. To suit your needs. Your thoughts. What you want. All that exists is you and this moment, and you’re going to own it like the boss you are.

" She holds her hand in the air. "High-five for strong women. "

Summer and I laugh and slap her hand.

"Go get 'em." She winks.

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

A current runs up my back. A current of revulsion.

That’s all it is. That’s the only reason I know he’s in the room.

That’s why my internal signaling mechanism is going haywire—because I can’t stand to be in the same space as him. Yep, that’s exactly what it is.

"Isla." His voice rumbles over my skin and seems to arrow straight to my core.

My thighs clench. How is it possible that, with that one word, he seems to imply that he wants to bend me over that pristine cream chaise in the corner, pull up my dress, tear off my panties and bury himself between my legs?

Because I have a fanciful imagination, is how.

Zara and Summer look past me, then at each other. A silent message passes between them. Zara leans forward and kisses my cheek, "Our earlier conversation? Don’t, for one second, think I’m not coming back to it.”

Summer kisses my other cheek, then the two brush past me. I hear them exchange greetings with Liam. I can’t hear the words, but I hear the low hum of Zara’s voice as she speaks to Liam.