My Billionaire Fling by Maci Dillon
SOPHIA
The Wedding
Although my morning sickness has subsided a lot, it’s the evenings when I feel the best. That’s why we decided to get married on the rooftop in the evening with Central London lit up in the background.
Ben flew in yesterday from New York, the only person Gabe wanted to invite to the wedding. Roman, Jarett, Ben, and Gabe spent the night in a hotel downtown, a low-key bachelors evening, while all my favorite ladies spent the night at our place, fussing over me profusely.
This morning we converted half the suite into a beauty parlor—waxing, facials, and mani-pedis followed by hair and makeup for each of us.
Gabe insisted on a photographer to shoot the entire day from breakfast on the balcony to the setup of the beauty stations, all the beauty madness and fun, getting into my dress, right through to after the wedding.
We agreed to keep it elegant but simple—canapes on the roof after the ceremony and group photos, followed by dancing and cutting of the cake.
The press requested exclusive access, but instead, we worked with the photographer on a contract to allow us to decide which of the photos we’re happy for him to send to the papers. It works for him as it’s extra money in his pocket.
“Sophia, the caterer is here!”
The cake matches my dress in color and style. It’s a three-tier, cookies ‘n cream cheesecake, decorated with baby blue floral arrangements and edible gold balls. It’s a fifties chic vintage design that, given the number of guests, only needed to be half the size. My hope is to freeze the remainder in individual servings for my midnight snacks throughout the pregnancy.
It’s a fucking genius idea.
The caterers roll the cake into the kitchen on their delivery trolley and transport it to the counter. For ease, it will remain in the kitchen. We intend to return to the suite for the cake-cutting part of the evening. At which point, we hope to kick everyone out to have hot, dirty sex before we pack for our honeymoon in the morning.
“Holy shit, how amazing does it look?”
“Ladies!” one of the event planners, I think her name is Helen, requests our attention. “It’s time to get you all into your dresses. The groom will be arriving in less than forty-five minutes.”
I clasp my hands together. This is actually happening. “I’m getting fucking married today,” I shout, making everyone laugh. The music volume increases as the beauticians clear out the remainder of their equipment.
“Don’t you dare cry and wreck your makeup,” Helen warns as she moves me toward the mirror.
“I’m pregnant,” I wail. “I told them to use waterproof mascara and lots of setting spray!”
“Oh, sweetheart, there’s no barrier for happy tears. Reel in those emotions until after the photos.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I chuckle at the middle-aged woman when she frowns at me.
“Call me Helen, please.”
“Of course.” I smile, unable to remove the stupid look from my face if I tried.
“You look absolutely gorgeous. This dress is perfectly you.”
I run my palms over the front of the dress, admiring it in the full-length mirror from every angle. The skirt sits perfectly, accentuating my miniature baby bump which looks like a mild case of the bloats.
A knock on the door pulls me from my pose. “Come in,” Helen calls when I give her the nod. Kassidy, Maxine, Holly, Kelli, Jules, Karyn, and Bell burst into the room in fits of giggles. When they fix their eyes on me, silence descends on the room.
Smiling widely, I hold my arms out and pirouette, amazed I have such balance when I’m insanely giddy with happiness. Their applause brightens my cheeks, and one by one, they step forward and cover me in compliments.
I am positively glowing.
“Pregnant bride looks brilliant on you, Soph.” We all laugh, and I remind them I’m missing some pieces.
“We’ve got you covered,” Maxine smiles, running to the cabinet on the other side of the room.
“You all look so beautiful,” I tell them. Seeing them all together in one room, I’m overcome with my love for the women in my life—strong, determined, graceful, and always have my back.
Max returns with a large shallow box I recognize as my mother’s. “Something borrowed,” she says, taking my mother’s pearls in her hands. I fight the pending tears as she clasps the necklace at the back, and I thread the matching drop pearls through my ears.
Holly approaches with a small velvet pouch. Three generations. My grandmother’s sapphire brooch she wore on her wedding day. So did my mother, and if Mom were still alive today, she’d insist I wear it too. “Something old and blue,” she says, securing the brooch through the ribbon threaded through my up-styled hair.
“Something new,” Kassidy adds, passing me a small gift bag. Inside is a gorgeous silver Chantilly lace wedding garter. “I’m so in love,” I coo, blinking rapidly to avoid an overflow of tears.
I hold onto Kassidy’s arm as I slide it over my heel and up my thigh.
“Sophia!” Roman yells. “Everyone is ready to go.”
Maxine offers to let him know we’re on our way up. I’m walking down the aisle alone today. We agreed on no bridesmaids or best man. The people we love will be with us, and those who can’t be, don’t deserve to be replaced.
So, if we can’t have one, we forego the others. I expected it to be difficult, but it’s the best decision, and I’m completely at ease with it now the day is here.
I wave goodbye to my favorite gals when Max returns. She’s been tasked with walking me to the rooftop, where she’ll then take a seat with the others. When the music commences, it’s my cue to enter the area prepared for our special day.
And I can’t wait to see what Gabe has done with the space.
Nerves dance wildly around my stomach as we carefully navigate the stairs to our private garden. The sun has gone down, and the city lights are glowing in the distance when I step onto the terrace. Max kisses my cheek and leaves me shaking in my stilettos.
Breathe, Sophia.
Just breathe.
As I remind myself how lucky I am, I marvel at the fairy lights lining the edge of the walls. Pendant lights hang from the overhead beams adding to the beauty. The music begins, and my breath hitches, but it stops a few seconds in. Kassidy races around the corner with my bouquet of white and baby blue roses and tosses them to me. “Sorry,” she shrieks and dashes off again.
The music starts again, and I’m in awe as I round the corner. My eyes land first on Gabe in his royal blue suit, hair slicked back, and the deliciously cheeky grin I’ve come to love. His eyes are full of love and desire.
I want to run to him, but my legs are shaky, so I watch my step as I move through the scattered rose petals through the two rows of chairs on either side toward my groom.
My future husband.
The white wedding arch displays a matching bouquet of flowers on each corner, the sheets blowing peacefully in the autumn night breeze. I risk a glance at Roman and Jarett in the front row as I pass by, their smiles as wide as my own and filled with happiness.
Gabe extends his hand to welcome me to the official spot where we promise each other forever and always. “You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart.” I curtesy and offer him a radiant smile, too choked up at the sight of this sexy hunk of man to speak.
We agreed not to exchange vows because I’m not the least bit traditional. Plus, with all these baby hormones kicking around my body, I’ll be a blubbering mess, and we can’t have a tear-stained face for the photos we’ll share for the rest of our lives.
The marriage officiant acknowledges me with a nod when I stop fidgeting, and the ceremony begins.
