Today is my wedding day. And on your wedding day, youâre supposed to look absolutely fabulous.
This morning, in the safety of my bedroom, I looked like a femme fatale. Heels that scream fuck-me-in-only-these-please. A tight blue shift dress that accentuates every curve. Dress hem closer to my hips than my knees. My long flowing hair teased into curls. Vaguely smoky eyes but not enough to look like Iâm out on the town for the night.
Now, outside, Iâm not quite as fatale as Iâd hoped.
Big stinkinâ raindrops slap the shit out of me, supported as they are by a filthy wind designed to piss you right off.
British weather at its finest.
The wind does its darnedest to pull my dress over my head, expose my good bits to the nation and leave me with a wind-burnt vagina.
When I finally make it into the Lexington building and onto the fortieth floor, Iâm less put together than I had hoped, but heads still turn.
Heads actually turn.
Approving looks. Flirty looks. Lecherous looks.
Give it to me; Iâll take it all.
Nisha is hammering away on her keyboard but stops when she sees me. âNice,â she says loudly, giving me an approving, almost sexual, once-over. âMaxâs jaw will hit the floor. Jackâs too.â She smiles innocently. âIf youâre interested, but of course, youâre not.â
âNot in the slightest.â I sniff, plopping myself down at my desk beside her.
Nisha knows the whole story of the heavy petting incident followed by sharp rejection on Friday night.
âSure.â She rolls her eyes as she swivels her chair to face me. âWell, Iâm glad you didnât hide away from Jack today because you shouldnât be alone. I really feel like youâll have fully moved on after today. What did the therapist say you should do today?â
âHave a helpful one-hundred pound therapy session. I broke up with her.â I smile wryly. âNot only because Iâm going bankrupt, but I feel ready to quit now. The sessions havenât been as useful these past few weeks.â
She nods. âI still think youâd be better going out with Kate and me tonight. Nice meal, a few drinks to take your mind off things?â
âNo. Iâm going to sit in my PJs, eat my feelings, pour wine down my throat and read smut. I might even wear my wedding dress and do a bit of drunk crying. Maybe Iâll arrange a load of online dates. But tomorrow, Iâll be over it.â
Her lips press together. âIâm not happy about this.â
I roll my eyes. âItâs fine. Iâm not going to go all bitches-be-crazy. All you have to do today is distract me.â I lean towards her excitedly. âWhat the hell is happening between you and Darren?â
I couldnât believe it when she told me they went for dinner last night.
She groans. âOh, God. I should know not to shit on my own doorstep, but heâs damn good at sex. He should quit his job at Bradshaw and become a prostitute, heâd be much better at that.â
I smile smugly. I knew this day would come. âBut you went on an actual date with him last night. Do you want more?â
She blows out her cheeks. âHe wants more. I just want a fling.â
Why is it so hard for two people to get on the same level?
Take Jack Knight. The guy switches between hot and cold so much Iâm dizzy. Does he want me or not?
I glance at my phone clock. âCome on, weâre going to be late. Better brave it and get this over and done with.â
We have a meeting with the Lexington team at 9 a.m. I havenât seen Jack since he pushed me into his car on Friday night.
I messaged to thank him for the ride, to be the bigger person, but that was it. His message back was simply Glad you got back safe.
The meeting is in the largest boardroom in Lexington. Architecture firms supporting the other phases are there as well.
I walk in behind Nisha, feeling as if I am about to attend a United Nations summit.
Jack leans against the boardroom podium, talking to Sean and other Lexington seniors.
My skin prickles at the sight of him.
Everyone is in a suit but him. He looks sensational. Faded jeans, a white T-shirt complementing his Italian complexion, exposed tattooed arms folded lazily over his chest.
Itâs not often he is waiting for us.
I take a seat at the back, feeling my face grow hot as I replay the scene of serving myself up to him on a plate.
The rejection hurt.
Thereâs a dull chatter as Jack talks to Sean, not in a hurry to greet us.
I turn from chatting to Nisha to find Jackâs dark gaze fixed on my bare legs, where the hem has ridden up. I cross and uncross my legs and his hands tighten around the podium edge.
His gaze follows a path up my waist, burning into me like a red sniper dot. It lingers on my chest and collarbone before finally brazenly settling on my face.
Shit.
The dress worked.
I canât figure out whether heâs angry or horny. Maybe the two are interchangeable with Jack.
Thereâs a tic in his jaw as he gives me a nod.
I return my most confident smile and glance away to find Max also staring at me.
Damn, I feel like a total badass temptress. I may not be wearing fake-virginal white today but blue-balls blue works well too.
An attractive blonde enters the room, smiling with dimples that won my ex-fiancéâs heart and stole my honeymoon destination.
Olivia.
All the positive energy is sucked out of me. What the hell is Olivia doing here? Sheâs not even on the project.
Nisha leans over and whispers, âShe must be supporting while Teresaâs on holiday this week.â
When Olivia spots me staring, she looks sheepish but nods. I nod back, summoning what professionalism I can muster.
I suppose Max is fair game. She doesnât know me well. She doesnât owe me any loyalty.
A blue diamond around her neck catches my eye. My brain ticks over. I know that necklace. It takes me at least thirty seconds before I register from where.
Itâs not a coincidence it matches my dress perfectly.
I dig my hands into the side of the chair, trying to calm myself down.
No. Max wouldnât do that to me. It canât be the same necklace.
I found the necklace in his underwear drawer, hidden under Jackâs biography. Max was terrible at hiding things. I was putting his clean socks away and found something hard in one of his socks.
It was beautiful, a blue topaz gemstone on an elegant silver chain. Unlike anything I would buy for myself because I usually wear my hand-made scruffy jewellery.
I thought it was a present. I was marginally disappointed but figured he must have returned it.
That was six months before we de-coupled.
A shiver runs down my spine as if someone has, not walked, but stamped over my grave.
Deep down, when Max told me about Olivia, I knew. I just knew. I knew he was lying months before when a name flashed up on his phone, Oll. Who the hell has a nickname like that?
But my brain refused to acknowledge it and pushed it down.
Now, hit full whack in the face with it, I canât ignore it anymore.
Max requested the new admin position and Olivia happened to fill it. But thatâs because he already knew her. Itâs so obvious now.
Max is a cheater.
I stare at his handsome face as he intently listens to Jack.
Fucking son of a bitch.
First my dad, now this. Does everyone lie to me?
Anxiety strikes my chest. A sudden, intense shot.
How many people in this room knew all along? Was everyone talking behind my back?
Does Sean know? Does Jack know? Sweet Jesus, does Kate know?
Keep focusing on your necklace. I white-knuckle the Amethyst crystal hanging from my neck. I knew today would be tough, so I wore a calming stone. I didnât think it would be this shit show.
If it works for holy men and monks, surely itâll work for me.
The crystal slides in my sweaty palms, hard and useless. The pain of the crystalâs sharp edges digging into my palm are a mild distraction but not enough.
Iâll die if I donât get out of this room. Thereâs no oxygen.
Everyone else looks relaxed, listening intently. How? The more normal they look, the more my anxiety spikes.
Max. Olivia. Jack. I need to get out of this fucking room. Thatâs the only thing that matters.
People turn curiously as I shuffle past them, trying to look as controlled as possible.
Jack continues talking as he watches me make my way to the top of the room.
âExcuse me, Jack,â I mumble. âIâm not feeling well.â
Without looking at him, I slip past him out the door, clutching my stomach to slow my breathing. I might be sick at this rate.
I know itâs game over. Jack will take me off the project for disrupting another one of his meetings. Or if he doesnât, Max will.
Max. The C-word was invented for him. And I donât mean charmer.
The toilets are fully sealed. Practically soundproof, thank God. None of that bullshit where the bottom gap in the door is so big everyone knows your business.
I slump onto the toilet seat, my heart racing.
Was everything about our relationship a lie? Max might not have loved me in the end, but I thought he respected me. I trusted him so openly, itâs scary.
He shat all over my trust.
He must have been seeing Olivia at least six months before we split to give her that necklace. And Danielle? What the fuck? Did he have a bit on the side of a bit on the side?
How many women did he really sleep with when we were together?
The door to the bathroom opens. I hear footsteps. The heavy footsteps of a man.
Please, God, donât let it be Max.
I canât deal with seeing him yet. I need to get my emotions under control, or thereâll be a body pushed out the fortieth-floor window.
The knock on my cubicle door makes me jump.
âIâll be out in a second,â I cry. Just fuck off.
âBonnie.â Jackâs low voice comes from the other side of the door.
No. Anyone but Jack.
âIâm sorry,â I whisper. âI need a minute.â
I donât care if he takes me off the project.
âLet me in.â
âIâm being sick,â I lie. âVomiting.â
Thereâs a heavy sigh outside the door. âPlease.â
I open the door a few inches to find his brown eyes peering in.
âI have a stomach bug,â I say, forcing a small smile.
He gently pushes the cubicle door farther open, forcing me to step back.
âYouâre trembling.â
âPlease just leave me.â My voice cracks. I canât stand Jack seeing me right now.
He takes my hands and pulls me tight against him. My head barely reaches his chin. One arm wraps around my back and the other gently pushes my head down until it rests on a warm solid slab of chest muscle.
Heâs hugging me.
Jackâs hugging me.
Stunned, my arms dangle at my sides. He takes my hands and wraps them around his waist, then his arms come back around my body, crushing me against him.
âBonnie.â I feel his warm breath against my forehead. âDo you feel my heartbeat?â
âYes,â I whisper. And I do.
âGood,â he murmurs. âClose your eyes and listen to my heart and my breathing.â
My head rises and falls slowly with the movement of his chest. He takes slow deep breaths. My body warms against his with every breath. We stay like this for minutes. I donât know how long. I donât know why heâs here, but I need him.
With my face buried in his chest, I listen to his hypnotic breathing. Slowly, my breathing stabilises. I breathe in his scent. It surrounds me, consuming me, overpowering me. Protecting me.
âItâs okay,â he says quietly into my hair. âI think you had a panic attack. My sister used to have them after Dad died.â
His fingers lift my chin so that our eyes meet. Our faces are inches apart. âWant to tell me what happened? What was it about?â
I inhale sharply and drop my hands from his waist. âI realised Max was cheating on me with Olivia. For months.â
âUh-huh.â He doesnât look surprised. âHow?â
âMax bought a blue necklace last year.â I swallow the knot in my throat. âHe didnât know I found it. He never gave it to me, and it was gone from the sock drawer, so I thought heâd returned it. Olivia was wearing it today.â
He doesnât say anything. He just stares down at me, willing me to go on.
âIâve never been cheated on before. I guess I always had the naive impression that my guy would never do that. Not Max. Realising it was all lies in the middle of the meeting with our co-workers, you and Olivia sitting there smiling, Iâ¦panicked.â
âIt was supposed to be your wedding day,â Jack says softly.
How did he . . .?
I give a small nod, averting my gaze. âShit day to find out.â
His fingers nudge my chin forcing me to look up at him. âWant me to beat the shit out of Max?â
I laugh and his hand drops. âMaybe. I donât know what I want to do about Max yet. I sure as hell donât want to confront him at work.â
âThat sounds wise.â
âWait.â I frown. âDid the meeting end?â
âI told Sean to take over.â
My eyes widen. âYou walked out in the middle of the meeting?â
âCanât see anyone stopping me.â
That makes me laugh. âThatâs double standards.â
He smiles cockily back at me then his expression becomes serious. âListen, youâre a strong woman, Bonnie. You donât need anyone else to pick you up. Youâll realise that. But if you want me, Iâm here.â His deep brown eyes hold mine. âIâve got you.â
My heart pounds all over again. âYouâre an amazing man, Jack.â
âGlad you realise Iâm not just a pretty face.â A grin tugs at his lips. âAsk yourself this, do you wish that you were walking down the aisle right now, about to marry Max?
I think carefully. âNo.â
His smile widens. âThen today is a good day. You have exactly what you want.â He studies me for a moment longer. âDo you feel better now?â
âYes.â I bite my lip. âIâm embarrassed but I feel better. Thank you.â
âGood. Why were you going through a manâs sock drawer?â
âI was washing his underwear! He has your biography hidden in there too.â
The signature Jack smirk appears. âOh, yeah? Did you read it?â
âI might have flipped through it,â I admit. âIt pales in comparison to the real thing.â
His eyes hold mine as the air charges in the small cubicle. His eyes dart between my eyes and my lips. The butterflies are back in full flight in my stomach.
Kiss me.
âEverything will be fine, Bonnie. Betrayal is hard but youâll get over it. Donât even waste another minute thinking about him. There are better things for you out there.â His steady gaze never leaves me. âBetter people.â
I nod, fighting back tears. âThank you, Jack.â
His fingers nudge my chin playfully. âSee, Iâm more than just an amazing sex toy. Now I better go out and save Sean.â
I bite back a giggle as he opens the cubicle door.
âOh, and Bonnie?â He stops at the door, tilting his head to give me a slow, sexy smile. âFor the record, Iâm glad youâre not walking up the aisle today either.â
***
The afternoon is better. Surprisingly no one asks me why I left the meeting, and no one seems to connect that Jack left the meeting quickly after. At least not to my face, anyway.
I donât confront Max. I keep my head down and stay away from Max and Olivia. I remain calm. I go to lunch with Nisha. My afternoon workshop with the planners and interior design team keeps me focused.
Thankfully, Max stays away as well. Iâm guessing heâs not in my face asking what happened at the meeting since itâs our doomed wedding day.
And when 5:30 comes Iâm surprisingly relaxed.
I want to thank Jack properly.
I say goodbye to the guys in the workshop and then make my way down the hall to his office, hoping he wonât be in a meeting.
âJess.â I smile at her over the divider. âDo you think I can have two minutes with Jack?â
She nods, smiling back. âHeâs just on his way out but it should be fine if youâre quick.â
I knock softly on his office door.
âCome in,â he calls in his deep voice.
I push the door open.
Oh, shit.
Now I wish the floor would swallow me whole.
Michelle Allard and Jack turn to look at me from where they stand close together, facing each other. My jaw drops at her red, demure, sexy-as-hell evening gown.
The outfit I spent so long on this morning pales in comparison.
Jack is in a tuxedo looking painfully handsome. The two hard mounds of ass fill the tuxedo pants perfectly.
His eyes find mine.
My stomach twists, the butterflies dying a slow painful death. The perfect couple on a fucking date. Iâm so stupid.
I realise in horror that she has her hands on his chest. Oh God, were they about to kiss?
âIâm sorry for interrupting,â I say, flustered.
âYouâre not interrupting,â he says warmly. âMichelleâs doing my tie. I hate doing the damn thing.â
âI know you,â Michelle says pleasantly as her hands rest on his tie. âThe bridesmaid.â
âThatâs me,â I say with false cheeriness. I should probably be flattered she remembers me. âYou look stunning.â
âWhat did you want, Bonnie?â Jack asks. âIs everything okay?â
âItâs nothing important.â I wave my hand dismissively, taking a step back so Iâm up against the door. âSorry, I donât want to delay your date.
His brows draw together. âItâs not a date. Weâre going to the Lexington hotel awards. Itâs a staff event. Go on, Bonnie. How can I help?â
âJack, we need to go,â Michelle says sharply, still with her hands on his tie. How long does it take a person to do a tie? I resist the urge to hiss at her like a territorial black mamba. âWeâre late and youâre giving a speech.â
âThe speech can wait another minute,â Jack says dryly. He nods at me. âGo on, Bonnie.â
Iâd prefer not to say this under the watch of a supermodel. âThank you for earlier. Without you, the day would have been a lot harder. Thatâs all. Thanks. Youâre a really great guy, Jack.â
He stares at me with an unreadable expression for a long beat.
âIâm glad I could help,â he finally says in a throaty voice.
âThatâs nice,â Michelle snaps. âCan you resume this tomorrow? Jack, your staff are waiting on you. Youâre going to let them down.â
Iâm out the door before he can reply.
My stomach turns with the biggest revelation of the day and itâs not about Max, Olivia, or even Dad.
Michelle Allard is the luckiest woman in the world tonight.