The Billionaire’s Bride by L. Steele

25

"I LOVE my dad so much. I mean, I never really talk about him. I normally just talk about my mum, and leave my dad out. But that isn’t fair because I love him… Obviously, because he’s my dad. I’m lucky to have him as a dad, anyway. Plus, he bought me clothes yesterday! What a lovely, generous man! And omg, I desperately want these shoes that I saw... If I tell him, do you think he'll buy them for me? No, I am not a brat, really I am not..."

– From Ava's Diary

Ava

I glance at the suited man driving the SUV. Baron’s broad shoulders are encased in a black jacket. He’d refused to wear a tie and his shirt buttons are open to reveal the demarcation between his pecs. That stubborn lock of hair falls over his forehead and his jaw is hard as he focuses on the road ahead. He looks delicious, and sexy, and so damn hot. My stomach flip-flops and my thighs clench. Being with him would have already made me the envy of every single person at the wedding…

Then, add in the man riding shotgun with him. In his dark jacket and yellow tie that picks out the golden flares in his eyes, Edward is the epitome of suave masculinity. His shoulders are as broad as Baron’s, while the rest of him is leaner, which still means that he’s a big guy, with his muscled physique, broad chest, tapered waist and those powerful thighs currently clad in what are, surely, tailor-made pants.

After we’d spoken yesterday, the guys had had Archer drop by with their clothes and a suitcase full of garments. Baron had compromised and allowed me to use his phone—which was, apparently, secure—to call Isla to tell her that Archer was on his way. Of course, she had been curious about where I was, and I told her I couldn’t reveal my location, which had prompted a flurry of questions. To which I’d said that I would tell her more when I met her at the wedding.

At least, I was able to give her instructions on the clothes she had to pack for me, which included this dress. Made of layered silk, with a modest neckline and a back that dips almost to the cleft of my butt, the pale pink dress coordinates beautifully with my burgundy shawl. Paired with matching lipstick, the combination is both sexy, as well as modest enough, to not steal attention from the bride. Not that it matters. I wouldn’t care, either way. I’m not there for Lina. I am there purely to support my dad. I don’t want to disappoint my family; that’s all.

"You, okay?" Edward meets my gaze in the mirror. "You’ve been awfully quiet."

"I’m nervous."

Which is true… I am walking in with two men, and don’t exactly want to be questioned about why I am there with both of them.

"You worried about raising eyebrows?" Baron asks me. Typical Baron. Never one to mince words, he always puts out there the stuff that others hesitate to say aloud.

"I suppose," I finally concede. "It’s not every day that a woman walks into a social occasion with not one, but two gorgeous men, who are, obviously, not gay."

Baron snorts.

Edward arches an eyebrow. "Are you really that worried about being seen with both of us?"

"Yes?" I raise a shoulder. "No. I don’t know. This entire situation is confusing enough without my having to try to put a name to this," I wave a hand in the air, "for everyone else."

"I’d say fuck 'em all," Baron drawls, "but I know that wouldn’t work for you."

"Not." I chuckle. "No, I am not sure what I am going to say if anyone asks why I am with both of you."

"Tell them the truth," Edward suggests.

"Which is…what? That I am fucking both of you?" I glance out of the window. "Do you realize how that makes me look?"

"Like you are irresistible?" Baron meets my gaze in the mirror, "Which you are. You should know that, Ava."

"You are a gorgeous, confident, young woman who can have anyone you want." Edward turns to me, "And that’s what you should tell anyone who asks you."

Baron nods.

"It really is annoying when the two of you gang up on me," I gripe.

Edward chuckles. Baron’s lips twist in that smirk which is hot and mean, and so damn filthy. My ovaries spasm. No, seriously, they do. Heat fills my cheeks and I glance out the window as we turn off the highway. Well, here we are then; time to face the music.

I knock on the door of my parent’s bedroom. Old habits… I’ve always call it my parents' bedroom. Just because my mother is no longer there doesn’t mean I am going to call it by some other name, alright?

"Come in," my father calls out and I walk inside.

He places the photograph of my mum and him on their wedding day back on the dresser.

I walk up to him, glance down at the photograph. "She was so beautiful," I whisper.

"I saw her across a crowded house party in London and knew she was the one for me."

I’ve heard the story of how they met a thousand times, and yet, I can’t resist asking, "What was she wearing?"

“A sleeveless dress that reached her knees. I saw the back of her neck, the curve of her bare shoulder, and I was a goner."

"And you?" I murmur, "What were you doing?"

“I was in a pair of shorts, wearing a Santa hat while I jumped up and down on the couch.” He chuckles.

"Was it Christmas?"

"Not quite. It was the middle of summer, but I was high enough on life… And yeah, enough alcohol to not give a damn. Then I saw her and knew that my life would never be the same again." His voice breaks and I turn to him in time to see a tear run down his cheek.

"Oh, Dad." I grip his arm. "I’m so sorry, Dad."

"Me, too." He swallows. "You meet your life partner and you think you’ll be together for the rest of your lives. You think you’ll always have them next to you, that you’ll be old and wrinkled before you have to say good-bye. Yet one day, they are gone, and you are left to pick up the pieces of your life and move on... Even as the grief consumes you from the inside, and you try to put on a brave face and smile because that’s what they would have wanted. I don’t want your Mum to be upset. I want her to feel like I am still living my best life for her."

"Oh, Daddy." I stand up on tip-toe and hug him, and he puts his arms around me and holds me close. The woodsy scent of his aftershave is so familiar, so comforting, that I almost break down. I bite back my tears, pat his shoulder, "I am so sorry I said those horrible things to you earlier."

"I think we all say things we don’t mean when we’re upset." He rubs his cheek across my hair. "You were hurting. So was I. We were all trying to figure out how we were going to go on without her."

"You’re doing the right thing by marrying Aunty Lina." I lean back and he releases me. "I hope the two of you are happy, Daddy."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He smiles down at me, "It means a lot to me to hear that."

There’s a knock on the door, then Raisa peeks in. "Everything okay?" She glances between us.

"Yeah," I sniffle, "I was just catching up with Dad, that’s all."

"I am so happy you came, Ava." She smiles at me.

"Me, too." I look up at the ceiling to keep the tears from falling and messing up my make-up. "Thanks for being so patient with me, big sis."

She screws up her face, "Don’t call me that. Not that I am not your older sister, but it makes me feel old when you do."

"Some things never change." I chuckle.

Her smile widens. "And some things do." She peers into my face, "You ready for this?"

"Yeah," I square my shoulders, "I am."

"Good." She turns to my father, "And you, Dad, you ready to do this?"

He blows out a breath. "Yes." He straightens his spine. "Yes, I am."

He tucks me under his arm, then holds his other arm out to Raisa. She walks over to us, and the three of us hug.

"Thank you," Dad says hoarsely. "Thank you for understanding."

Two hours later, I watch from the sidelines of the small dance floor that had been erected in the backyard of my childhood home. The large white marquee that had hosted the ceremony is aglow with twinkling lights strung from the ceiling. The sides of the tent are open and a gust of air sweeps through, rustling the table cloths behind me. The DJ on the far end plays a tune that has me tapping my foot in rhythm.

"Hey, you," Isla comes up to stand next to me, "long time no see."

I glance at her sideways, "Speak for yourself. You’ve been missing all through the ceremony."

"Don’t ask." She mimics wiping sweat from her brow "Last minute issue with the DJ, but I finally pulled in a favor." She waves at the tall man behind the console, who grins at her before turning his attention back to the set up.

"Thanks again for packing my clothes for me," I gesture to the dress I am wearing. "Thanks to you, I am, at least, properly dressed."

"You can thank me by telling me more about what’s up with you." She arches an eyebrow, "What’s up with all the secrecy?" She frowns. "And where are you staying anyway?"

"Uh, I told you, it’s just a security thing," I mutter. Shit, I hate not being able to share the details with her, but the guys made it clear, I am not to tell anyone about where I am staying.

Even now, the two of them stand on opposite sides of the tent, keeping a wary look out over the crowd. During the wedding, they’d both parked themselves on either end of the small group of invitees and kept a vigil, as well. It’s like I am traveling with my own security team, in a way.

"Ava." Isla hisses at me, "Ava, you listening to me?"

"Eh?" I give her my full attention, "Sorry, what did you say?"

"You are so not acting yourself." She frowns. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course, it is." I take a sip of my champagne. "Your wedding arrangements, as usual, have been top-notch. I am glad you were able to take on the wedding preparations so last-minute."

"Not as last minute as the weddings I’ve had to put together for the Seven." She snorts, "I mean, your dad gave me an entire month to plan. Imagine that."

I dig my elbow into her side. "Stop being so snarky."

"You stop being so secretive."

"I am not being secretive." I glance about the room and feign innocence.

"Oh?" She peers into my face, "So why is it that you didn’t mention to me that you were going to be here with both of them?"

"Who?" I frown. "Who are you talking about?"

"Seriously, Ava?" She scowls. "Don’t give me that. This is not like you, at all, to hide things from me."

"Yeah," I hunch my shoulders. "Look, it’s complicated, okay?"

"When isn’t it?"

A waiter passes by and Isla grabs my empty champagne glass, sets it on his tray, and grabs two more. "Thanks, Mark." She nods at the young guy, who blushes before scurrying off.

"Do all of your team have a crush on you?"

"Only the young impressionable ones." She hands me a glass, before sipping from her own. "And don’t change the topic, Slick."

"Would I do that?" I widen my gaze.

"And stop giving me the innocent act." She glowers at me. "Tell me what’s happening with you, Ava, seriously."

I take a sip of the champagne, and the cool, crisp liquid slides down smoothly. "Well, basically, I am sleeping…with both of them."

She chokes on her champagne, and I pat her back as she splutters.

"Easy, easy," I mutter, "don’t go drawing all the attention to us now."

"You’re doing fine in that regard all on your own, considering those two have ensured you are always in their line of sight since you guys walked in."

"That’s only because they are protecting me."

"Protecting you?" She frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I was attacked…" I mumble, "again."

"Wait, hold on." She stares at me. "You were ambushed in the subway, then in your studio…. Are you saying, it happened again?"

I wince, and her features soften. "Oh, honey, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring back any flashbacks by talking about it."

"I’m stronger than that," I lie.

"No one is that strong, Ava. We can pretend to ourselves that things don’t affect us, but everything does. Even tripping and hurting ourselves when we are children leaves scars on our physical body. Our cells remember everything. The memories in our body stay with us, whether we like it or not. They change us; they have ramifications for how we act and react. The only thing we can do is manage the stories we tell ourselves about it."

"Wow," I stare at her, "that was profound."

"Right?" She shakes her head, "Sometimes, even I don’t know where I come up with this shit."

"You never do talk about your past, you know." I take in her features. "I go on and on about my family and you… You never tell me about yours."

"But we are not talking about me, are we?" She waggles her eyebrows. "You were talking about bedding both of them. How is it?"

"How is what?"

"You know, DP."

"DP?"

"Double penetration?"

"Oh." I stare at her. "OH." I redden. "No, no, no. I don’t know about that."

"No?"

"I mean, I don’t sleep with them at the same time." I wave my hand in the air, "How could you even think about that?"

"Aw," her lips turn down, "and here I was, hoping things were finally getting exciting."

"Trust me, I’ve had enough excitement just trying to keep up with two of them in my life at the same time." I shake my head, "Seriously, I am at my wits end."

"Whose dick is bigger?"

"What?" I redden, and she chuckles. Gah! She's always trying to catch me out, this one. I purse my lips, push my finger into my cheek and pretend to consider the question. "You do know, it’s not just about the size; it’s also the technique." I sniff.

"And?" She taps her feet on the ground, "Give, girlfriend, which one wins?"

I lower my chin. "Sadly, it seems they are neck and neck on both accounts."

She clicks her tongue, "Poor Ava, you have such a hard life." She shakes her head, "All that double dosage of cocks and lips and hands and legs and balls… Girl, you lead a tough life."

"Stop it." I choke. "Seriously, it’s not at all how you make it out to be."

"Oh, well," she takes another sip of the champagne, "things could be worse; you could have neither of them."

"Yeah, tried that, and it didn’t work, either." I grimace.

"Well, if you can’t beat ’em, join 'em."

"Okay, I am getting tired of trying to keep up with you here." I scowl, "What are you trying to say, Isla?"

"Just that you should have a good time, while you can, babe." She snatches my glass from me, then hands both flutes over to the hovering Mark.

She jerks her chin at the DJ, who nods, then speaks into the mic, "Can we have the newly wedded couple on the floor?"

Applause breaks out as my father leads Lina onto the floor. Throughout the dance, she stares up at him with adoration in her eyes. My father seems a little tired, and maybe sad. She places her palm against his cheek, leans up to say something. He chuckles and some of the weight around his shoulder dissipates. Maybe this really is a good thing. Maybe she’ll make him happy, and maybe she does deserve him, after all.

I watch as they glide around the dance floor. The song comes to an end, and everyone claps as my father leads Lina off the floor. He smiles at me and I blow him a kiss, then nod at Lina. They move over to talk with their friends and the DJ switches to a throbbing beat. "Okay everyone, time to get on the dance floor." The DJ speaks into the mic, "Let’s all celebrate the wedding of Lina and Christopher!"

"Okay, this should be good." Isla grabs my arm and yanks me onto the floor.

"What are you doing?" I laugh.

"Come on, Ava, you’ve been dying to dance, and I’ve made sure the music is good for the kind of dancing you like."

"Is that right?" I chuckle. The music changes again, the familiar beats of a fast dance remix come on. I can’t stop myself from tapping my feet against the floor, swaying my hips, shimmying my waist, my shoulders.

"Woohoo!" Isla hoots. "Go for it, babe." She launches into her own bump and grind version of a dance that’s both seductive and funny at the same time.

I laugh, shake my booty, fling my hands up in the air, drag them down my body as I move to the rhythm. Isla mirrors my moves and soon the two of us are shaking it up, dancing with each other, and to the music. Around us, the dance floor fills up.

More people join and soon we are pressed in from all sides in the tiny space. The music moves to an even faster beat, the lights dim, and strobe lights are flicked, transforming the atmosphere closer to that of a night club.

The crowd seems to thicken even more. Sweat beads my forehead, slides down the valley between my breasts. A man jostles Isla. She turns at the same time as him. He apologizes to her, she laughs. The two begin to dance together. My dress sticks to my back. Shit, I'm too hot. I push my way through the swaying bodies, to the edge of the dance floor. Then walk across the lawn to the side of the house. I can still hear the music, but there's no one here. Besides, it's cooler.

A breeze blows over my fevered skin and I lift my face to it.

The thump of the beats reaches me across the space. The cadence seeps through my veins, sinks into my blood. I close my eyes, letting the rhythm wash over me as I move my feet. I widen my stance as I grind my arse, sinking down in a semi squat, before I thrust my hips out, then my breasts, then weave up to straighten.

I sense a change in the space in front of me, then a pair of warm hands land on my hips.

I snap my eyes open, take in the strong chords of his throat, the sculpted pecs and the black marks of the tattoo exposed by the open neck of his shirt. His broad shoulders block out the sight of everybody else, and I gulp. I lift my eyes to meet his amber gaze.

Edward moves in sync with me, his gaze intense as he takes in my undulating body.

The hair on the nape of my neck prickles. Heat sears my back. I glance sideways, already knowing that I’ll find Baron behind me.

His big body towers over me and his biceps stretch the tight fit of his light blue shirt that set off the flint in his eyes. He must have abandoned his jacket at some point—not that I am complaining. He’s rolled his sleeves up to expose his thick veiny arms, the powerful forearms dotted with dark brown hair. His wide palms rest on my shoulders, the heat of them burning through the thin material of my dress.

Baron’s movements are stiff…as stiff as the unmistakable bulge that tents his crotch. He moves in closer and his pelvis cradles my hips. The thick column of his shaft nestles against the curve of my butt. Lust thickens my veins; moisture laces the hollow between my legs.

I turn forward as Edward bends his knees slightly. His movements are smooth, coordinated, a self-assurance to his steps that hints at some kind of formal lessons. I tip up my chin, rise on tip toe.

"Where did you learn to dance?" I murmur.

"Ballroom dancing classes." He smirks.

"What?" I gape. "No."

"Oh, yes." His smile widens. "One of the few things that my mother cared about. After all, I had to dance so she could take me to parties and show me off. At least, in this, she was determined that I appear civilized." He bares his teeth and my knees threaten to give way from under me. This man… He’s deadly. OMG—my thighs clench and my heart begins to thunder in my chest.

I turn my head sideways, "And you Baron?" I tilt my head, "Clearly, dancing isn’t one of your hobbies?"

"Is that a challenge?" He growls.

"It’s an…invitation?" I bat my eyelashes at him and his grip tightens on my hips.

His forehead furrows and he picks up his pace, matching his moves to mine... To the left, to the right, circle…and to the right again. I face forward to find Edward matching us step for step. To the left, right, circle, again. Just like that, the three of us are in sync. Flying. Floating. When you have the right beat, the right partner—or partners—dancing is like flying.

I raise my arm, wind it around Baron’s neck. Bring my other hand up and place my palm against Edward’s cheek. His amber eyes gleam. Edward moves in closer, until we are joined from chest, to hip, to thigh. Baron tilts his hips behind me. His throbbing length seems bigger, hotter, more insistent. My throat closes and sweat slides down the valley between my breast. I tip my chin up as Edward lowers his mouth to mine. He kisses me deeply, smoothly, thrusts his tongue between my lips. A grasp on my chin urges me to turn my head. Edward releases my mouth, for Baron to replace it with his. He brushes my lips once, twice, then swipes his tongue across my mouth. I groan, parting my lips, and instantly, he swoops in, closes his mouth around my tongue, sucking, nibbling, biting on my lower lip, and my pussy instantly clenches. Ed kisses his way across my cheek, down my throat, to the valley between my tits. He cups my breast, tweaks my nipple so hard that I cry out. The sound is swallowed by Baron’s mouth. He kisses me harder. I pant against his lips, press my fingers into the side of his neck. A moan ripples up my throat, and he shudders. He tears his mouth from mine, then growls, "To the car, right fucking now."