The Wrong Wife (Morally Grey Billionaires #5)(79)

That bastard! I am his assistant. I’m the first person he should inform about his plans, but he didn’t bother to update me. Not a text message. Nothing! Nada. Argh! He didn’t ask me to cancel his meetings for the week—no, he did it himself. He went to the extreme to cease all communication with me.

At first, it made me a little mad, then a little sad to realize I wouldn’t be able to talk to him before the wedding. That is, until the wives and girlfriends of the Seven and the Sovranos and their friends descended on me.

Karma came, weighted down with dresses for me to try on. Summer brought along Rachel—a wedding planner who’s worked with Isla—to help me with organizing the event. Mira commandeered Knight’s black Amex and ordered enough food for us and Tiny, along with enough champagne to make us all very happy. Yep, the bosshole left his credit card, with instructions for me to use it as needed. I balked at that, but Mira had no such compunctions.

Then there was Abby, who beamed from ear to ear and refused to listen when I told her the wedding was fake.

Apparently, my closest friends, too, want to buy into the notion that we are in love and getting married, so much so, that a part of me began to believe in the story. Especially when I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom and saw the gorgeous creation Karma had made for me.

Now, I glance down at the gorgeous champagne-pink colored gown that clings to my curves with a fishtail train that spreads out behind me. Not as elaborate as the train on the Princess of Wales’ wedding dress, but also, not too short as to be insignificant.

The dress has a high neckline and long, sheer sleeves, but it’s the second skin effect with the nude underlay that I love. When I move it gives the impression that I’m not wearing anything underneath the lace, and the back? Well, there is no back. The neckline plunges all the way to the cleavage between my ass-cheeks. It stops short of being obscene. Barely. Also, she carefully stitched in some of the lace I’d carefully cut from my mother’s bridal gown, so it made me feel close to her.

I’d wanted my mother to attend, but when I went to tell her about my upcoming nuptials, I found her in a state of agitation. That's what I get for visiting her after dinner. She became very upset upon seeing me and burst into tears. When I tried to calm her, she pushed me away and started yelling. Eventually, Sunita stepped in and, by calmly talking to her, managed to assuage her agitation. Once my mother was otherwise occupied, Sunita indicated I should leave while she was distracted.

I haven’t had the courage to go back to the nursing home. It's not that I worry about her being angry with me. I just hate to see her that way. The fact that she probably forgot all about me as soon I left is what hurts the most. Can you blame me for throwing myself into the day-to-day work of the office? Which was much easier, since the bosshole wasn’t around, but also a little boring, if I'm being honest. As since I'm being honest, I must admit I’ve been dying for a glimpse of my bridegroom. I know he didn't have any kind of bachelor party, and in fact, only flew in this morning. Abby told me he was coming to his wedding straight from the airport.

I also know he’s in the ceremony room up ahead—because I’ve had these little tingles pulsing under my skin, which only happens when he's nearby. A-n-d that’s the sad thing. I hate this man, but I'm so attracted to him. I may have slept with him, but instead of getting him out of my system, it’s only primed me, so I want more of him. Which makes sense, in a way. I was foolish to think I could get him out of my system by sleeping with him. He was my first, and I was bound to develop feelings for him. But I didn't anticipate that the physical draw to him would continue to grow.

And the enforced absence of the past week has made me so mad at him, and that has only fueled my desire. Bet it's all part of some evil plan to make me desire him further. Bet he's trying to show me I’ll never be rid of thoughts of him, the images of how he fucked me, how I wanted him to destroy my pussy again, how—I love to hate him. My core clenches, and my thighs tremble. I shuffle my feet to try to release the pressure between my legs.

"You okay?" Mira murmurs. She’s wearing a pantsuit, also pink, that shows off her figure. That was my only criteria for her and Abby and Solene. They could wear anything, as long as it was pink. Abby’s wearing a dress with a sweet-heart neckline, and Solene’s wearing a pink, leather mini-dress with berry-red, over-the-knees boots with seven-inch high heels, which confirm she's a world-famous popstar.

Between Solene and Declan, they created quite a stir when they walked up the steps of the Town Hall. Of course, this being London, people were too polite to approach them, but there were enough girls holding up their phones to record their entry, albeit from a distance. Now, Abby turns to me and says, "You ready?"

I shake my head.

Her gaze softens, she closes the distance, and takes my hand in hers. "Can I confess something? When I asked you to find Knight a wife, I secretly hoped he’d come to his senses and realize you were the woman he’s been looking for."

"You did?" I gape.

"The only person I mentioned my plan to was Cade. No secrets from my husband.” She chuckles. “And the one person I couldn’t breathe a word to was Knight. If he’d found out, he’d have made things very difficult. I knew I was being wishful. I wanted us to be sisters, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. So, when you told me Knight had asked you to marry him, imagine how floored I was."