The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (21 page)

My head is spinning. This is all so confusing.

I shampoo, condition, and soap as fast as humanely possible. No need to shave yet. I'm still fuzz free after my waxing. For appearances or for Blake. No way I could know. No reason why I need to know. Not really.

Shower off. I pull my robe around my shoulders. It's just past eight, and I have the night to myself. Once upon a time, this was a dream come true. Now, it feels off and awkward.

Or maybe I'm the thing that's off and awkward.

I make a sandwich and eat it at my computer. There are so many art schools I can apply to, and they all want portfolio samples. I haven't done any serious work since high school. Some of that stuff is decent, but it has nothing to do with the person I am now.

Maybe that doesn't matter. It's a college application. It's not like I have to bear my soul to some nameless, faceless admissions officer.

I grab my sketchbook and a pencil and draw Blake from memory. It's not perfect. It wouldn't immediately read as Blake. But there is something about him that's there in the portrait. Something about his impossible to read eyes.

I turn the page and try making it into something different. Before the accident, I dreamed of drawing graphic novels. Capturing something real about life between the pictures and the worlds. It's funny. Back then, I had nothing to say, and all the time to say it. But now that I'm bursting at the seams, I barely have the energy to pick up a pencil.

That's going to change. After this ruse is over, I'll have time and energy in spades. I won't have to devote everything to getting by.

I try drawing a version of Blake. He has broad shoulders, round eyes, a strong nose, and a strong jaw. It's not quite right. I play with the eyes until they feel like Blake. There. It's not perfect, but it's a solid start.

I draw a cartoon Kat. Overdone waves of hair, tight cocktail dress, sky high heels. The fake Kat. Super-Girlfriend.

There's nothing about me in that portrait. Nothing real. I try my hand at the real Kat with her mess of hair, her casual outfit, her inability to open herself up. But that's not something I can draw. Not yet at least.

This drawing isn't me.

I can't even capture myself.

Chapter Seventeen

Ashleigh shakes her head. Irritation is written all over her face. "We spoke yesterday about this happening at six on the dot."

The salesgirl shoots back her best customer service smile. "It's only 5:45, Miss. Perhaps you'd like some champagne while you wait." She looks at me. "Miss Wilder?"

"No, thank you." I shrink into the corner. Some kind of pissing contest going on here. Doesn't interest me. No doubt Ashleigh is annoyed she's working late again.

She leans over the counter, whispering something to the salesgirl. Not my problem. This whole wedding gown ordeal doesn't have to be my problem, but I can't bring myself to put Blake in charge of this. It's the one thing I can control.

I doodle in my sketchbook—a four-panel comic of my arrangement with Blake. But how the hell am I supposed to draw the feelings whirring around inside me? Those don't fit on paper. They don't fit anywhere.

Four panels, all the same. Blake standing there, aloof and distant, with a wad of cash in his hand.
I can help you.

The guy sure likes to throw money at his problems. At least I was around to catch some of it.

I check my phone. No word from Lizzy. She's been out of school for hours now. There's no reason why she wouldn't be here.

I rip out the drawing of Blake and crumble it into a tiny ball. Not thinking about him anymore today. No way in hell.

"Thank you, I will." Ashleigh sits next to me. She glances at the sketchbook. Her expression is curious. "Blake told me you're an artist."

"I don't know about that."

"Natalie is pulling the dresses for you. They were supposed to be ready." She slides out of her heels and rubs her feet. "Barely three weeks now. We need something off the rack." She takes a quick scan of my body. "You'll look good in anything but an empire waist. Do you have any style of dress in mind?"

I stare at her like she's speaking another language. "I'm not really a dress expert."

"Given the weather, we might want to avoid a train. I'm guessing you're not too keen on dragging mud."

"Okay." I draw a circle in my sketchbook. "Whatever you think is best."

She frowns, pulls an iPad from her purse, navigates to a wedding website, and takes me through the different dress silhouettes. Except for the sheath, they all flare somewhere and most of them flare dramatically. There's A-line, fit and flare, trumpet, mermaid, ballroom. She goes over the pros and cons of each, but it all flies in one ear and out the other.

"Miss Wilder." The salesgirl, Natalie, calls us to the dressing room.

It's a huge area, more like a display than anything else. There are four or five stalls arranged in a circle. Mirrors on every door. Double set of mirrors in the middle of the room. And a podium on a turntable.

A great display case for a trophy wife to be.

Natalie points us to a pastel pink bench. The entire room is pink. It's the picture of love and romance.

"These are beautiful dresses." Natalie wheels a rack closer.

There are a dozen dresses in different shades of white, ivory, and blush. There must be miles of chiffon and lace.

"She wants something sophisticated," Ashleigh says.

"Of course."

Natalie pulls a dress off the rack. It's simple ivory chiffon. Gathered waist. Barely looks formal.

"She's not going to the beach. She's getting married." Ashleigh waves the dress away. "Something dramatic. They'll be under the cherry blossoms. The middle of spring. Flowers, lace, feminine. Okay? The flowers represent the power and mystery of female beauty."

Damn. I've never heard someone wax poetic about a dress before. I clear my throat. "That's the Chinese interpretation of cherry blossoms. In Japan, they're considered a symbol of the transience of life."

"Right," Ashleigh says. "So something beautiful, delicate, and dramatic all at once."

Natalie nods. She seems to suppress an eye roll. Used to dealing with difficult customers, no doubt. It's not like the dress can be delicate and dramatic at the same time. Or maybe it can. I'm utterly clueless when it comes to dresses.

On to the next. It's an optic white, heavy satin, and beaded all over. It sparkles like the sun. Ashleigh shakes her head and waves it away.

"You look like Blake did that day at the department store," I say.

"God, that bad?" She offers Natalie a pleasant smile. "Kat, maybe you could explain what you want."

"I'm not sure. Something pretty." I rack my brain for the right words to describe a dress. If I want to be an artist, I'm going to have to get a hell of a lot better at design. I steal the words Blake used to describe me. "Something beautiful and understated."

Natalie pulls another dress off the rack. A strapless ball gown with a sweetheart neckline. It's so puffy it could make a cloud jealous.

"That is the opposite of understated," Ashleigh says. She stares at her phone. Her brow furrows. "Excuse me."

Natalie shakes her head. "Would you like to try it on to get a feel for it?"

Not really. The thing is ugly. But without Ashleigh's help, I'm even more clueless.

I nod, okay, and follow Natalie into one of the dressing stalls.

"Did you bring a long-line, honey?"

"A what?"

"We'll try it without a bra. Just to get a feel for it." She motions to the hooks on the wall. "Call me over when you're ready."

Okay. Getting almost all the way naked in front of a strange woman I've never met. That's normal. I strip to my panties and leave my clothes on the floor. So much for taking charge of picking out a dress. I can't even get into it on my own.

"I'm ready," I say.

Natalie enters the room. "Turn around, sweetie." She helps me into the dress, zips me up, and clips the back so I'm squeezed in tight.

I glance in the mirror. The dress has a corset top. It's tight on my chest and waist and then poof—this is less like a skirt and more like a hemisphere. I trip over the organza on my way to the main room. The showroom, I guess.

Ashleigh is back on the bench. She frowns with clear distaste and Natalie shoots her a dirty look. Not getting a friendly vibe from these two.

"Let's try something else," Ashleigh says. "Unless you like it, Kat."

I stare at my reflection. I look like a Disney princess gone very, very wrong. "It's not my favorite."

Natalie offers me another dress. This one is much straighter. It has a slight flare just about the knee, a trumpet style I think. I go back to the stall. Natalie undresses and dresses me. All I do is step in and out of the gowns.

I avoid the reflection until we're in the main room.

"Aw," Ashleigh squeals. "You look beautiful. And understated."

Okay, fine. I look in the mirror. This dress is a lot more my style. It's simple. No beading, no embroidery. Just a pretty lace with a flower pattern.

Ashleigh snaps a photo with her cell phone. She offers me a smile. "Why don't we try putting on a few accessories?"

"Oh, okay." I stare at my reflection. I'm wearing a fucking wedding dress. I'm getting married. This is absolutely absurd.

Lie, lie, lie. It's a lie. A façade. All I have to do is smile and act like everything is normal.

I let Natalie have her way with me. Veil. Necklace. Jeweled belt. Silver heels. She turns me to the mirror, waiting for my smile. There's a way this is supposed to go. Jumping, screaming, crying even. The whole
I'm so happy I could die
thing.

Eyes open, I stare at my reflection. Something rises in me, some awful feeling I don't want to deal with. I push it as deep as it will go.

The bell dings. Door opens. "Hello."

Lizzy. She's here.

Normal. I have to act normal.

She wanders into the main room. Her eyes go wide when she spots me in the dress. "Oh my God, Kat. You look beautiful."

"Doesn't she?" Ashleigh studies her work with pride. "Lose the belt I think." She turns to me. "Do you like it?"

"It's nice."

"Yeah, but do you like it? Is it the one?" Ashleigh asks.

Lizzy looks from Natalie to me. "It's really nice."

"Really nice," I say.

"But it only matters what you think," Lizzy says. "It's your wedding, and you're in charge of what you wear."

"It's only a dress," I say. "And I've got it under control."

"Yeah. You always have it under control." Lizzy drops her backpack on the floor with a pout.

My reflection is mocking me. All of this is wrong. I reach for the zipper but Natalie stops me.

She motions to Ashleigh. "Can you help Miss Wilder change? I'll show, what's your name dear?" She offers her hand to Lizzy.

"Lizzy." My sister shakes hands with Natalie.

"Let's look at bridesmaid dresses, huh?"

"Okay. Unless Kat has that under control, too."

I shoot Lizzy a death glare. Some nerve. She lied about where she was last night, and now she's acting like I'm the one withholding. My chest tightens. This whole thing was supposed to be for us.

But maybe it's just for Blake.

I rush into the private stall. It's hard with the dress so tight around my hips. No way I could sit in this thing.

Ashleigh unzips me. "You really look beautiful."

"Thanks."

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" She lowers her voice to a whisper. "I know Mr. Sterling can be very exact."

"No, it's nothing. Just... This is moving really fast."

She nods. "He is a good guy deep down."

"I bet."

"And he does care about you."

I step out of the dress. Naked in front of another person. And she seems to have the bottom line on Blake. "What are you talking about?"

"Your deal. I saw the paperwork." Her eyes soften. "Don't tell him I said anything. Please."

"I won't."

"I'm not supposed to know." She grabs another dress. "He gave me specific instructions to make sure you're happy."

"That's great."

She zips the dress. No pins this time. We trot out to the main room. Once again, I'm on display.

I stare at my reflection. I should be happy. Crying. God, if my mom was here, if I was really getting married, there would be major waterworks.

She would have loved this dress. It's gorgeous. A ball gown with a wide V-neck and a subtle flare. Lace sleeves go all the way to my wrists. There's a small bow right beneath the low v of the back.

It's perfect.

Ashleigh gasps. She's expressive. I'll give her that much. She motions for me to twirl. Fine, I twirl. The skirt twists in a gorgeous whoosh of fabric. It would make quite the panel.

I look like Cinderella.

Ashleigh pins a veil to my hair and pulls its fabric behind my head. There I am, the girl who will be standing at the altar opposite Blake.

A sob rises up in my throat. I try to push it down, but it's no good. A tear rolls down my eye. I wipe it away. Another follows. I shake my head like I'm okay. Maybe I can pretend I'm so happy I'm crying. Maybe someone will believe that.

"Excuse me." I rush back to the dress room and slam the door shut behind me. No one can see this.

"Kat." Ashleigh knocks on the door. "Are you okay?" She lowers her voice. "I can get that champagne."

"I just need a minute."

She moves away from the door. I slink to my feet, pulling my knees into my chest the best I can. The full skirt is in the way. Not even this is going right.

They're talking in the main room. It's that loud whisper. The kind of thing my parents did when we were kids.

They go quiet. Footsteps come closer. Someone knocks on the door.

"Kat, can we talk?" Lizzy asks.

I push back to my feet. Wipe the stray tears from my eyes. "Okay."

I open the door and Lizzy steps inside. She's wearing a long pink dress. She looks great, grown up. My little sister is going to be my maid of honor.

Another sob rises in my throat. No sense in pushing it away. That's a lost cause. I wipe my tears. I try to smile like I'm happy.