Boxed Set: Dominated by a Billionaire - Part 10-12: Irresistible Billionaire (13 page)

"Organza is what Alma needs," Vera suddenly declares, coming back to join us. "Light, sheer, delicate: that’s how I see her."

Get the gown of my dreams made:
tick
.

Vera Wang… “What else?”

Our merry group splits up as we leave the atelier. As I go to my car, I see that my smartphone is displaying a whole slew of unread text messages. All signed Vadim…

[In 14 days, you’ll be mine. All mine. V.]

[I’m trying to imagine you in your wedding gown… And getting undressed between each fitting… V.]

[I miss you. I wish I could be there. V.]

[Especially to help you get undressed. V.]

[Don’t make any plans for 2nite. I have to get some practice. V.]

[Now, get out of my thoughts, Lancaster. I have to work. V.]

[Damn, I’m obsessed with you, Alma… V.]

Silly smile… Chills… Heat in the small of my back…

Don’t answer. Ignore him to make him want me. Don’t ans…

[I’m going to the gym. I’ll leave you to imagine me working out in my – very – skimpy outfit… A.]

[Describe it. Your outfit. V.]

[Skintight shorts and tiny tank top. A.]

[The first guy that gets near you, I’ll knock him out with a dumbbell. V.]

[My coach is a woman. But I doubt she likes men. PS: Her name is Lolita and she’s got a cute little ass. A.]

[Alma Lancaster, don’t play that game with me. V.]

[What? Aren’t you the one who wanted me to “experiment” with Kali? A.]

[Good idea. I’ll send out an invitation for 2nite… V.]

[No! 2nite is You + Me! A.]

[You + Me + Kali + Lolita. That suits me. V.]

[Jerk! A.]

[Cocktease! V.]

"The silence is not a good sign," Vadim grumbles, leaning on his desk, his muscular arms folded across his chest. "Kate is up to something, I’m sure of it!"

Monday morning. Life gets back to normal. My dark hunk and I spent the rest of the weekend in our own divine self-sufficiency, frolicking, kidding each other, blowing hot and cold to see who would give in first. The outcome: neither he nor I managed for long. We both gave in in the gorgeous swimming pool on our rooftop, until then under construction. Devoured whole cartons of Häagen-Dazs watching the
Lord of the Rings
trilogy for the third time, laughed watching
Big Bang Theory
, cried during Benigni’s
Life Is Beautiful
.

All right, OK, I cried. Vadim just… clenched his teeth.

I am clear-minded. I’m aware that the best times always end up leaving you wanting. I'm feeling that very keenly right at this moment. This return to reality has just dug a gaping hole in my stomach. Just the idea of mentioning Kate Monkov – and her unmentionable father – horrifies me, but do I have the choice? Boomerang answer: no.

I hate Mondays.

Adrian’s deep voice pulls me out of my thoughts and our “secret” meeting resumes, in my CEO’s office.

"All I know is that she has been in L.A. for about ten days or so. She must be moving heaven and earth trying to find some kind of procedural loophole, hiring hit men, selling her soul to get Dimitri released."

"Please tell me that's impossible!" I blurt out, in a tense voice. "She won’t be able to, will she?!"

"No, the evidence against her father is overwhelming. He’ll rot in prison no matter what she does."

"So there is justice in the end," Vadim grumbles, now facing the plate-glass window, his eyes glazed over.

My eyes meet Adrian’s briefly. Dimitri Monkov may indeed be a murderer, the scum of the earth, a bloodthirsty monster... but he is also his biological father. Something Vadim stubbornly refuses to mention, cutting it short every time we try to bring up the subject.

He is still in denial…

"Maybe Kate will change," I say tentatively, cautiously watching my man – likely to turn into a sniper.

"What do you mean by that?" he sighs, still staring down at the Champs-Élysées.

"I don’t know," I say, chickening out. "I’m just thinking that she can’t be
that
blind. Or lobotomized. He may be her father, but she can’t still love that… piece of human trash, can she?!"

"She has been conditioned since childhood. He is like her guru. She’ll stay his biggest fan until her last breath," Adrian says.

"Stop talking about her as if she were a victim!" Vadim snaps, doing an about-face. "She is his partner, and that's all! Now, let’s stop wasting our time with that witch."

"Vadim–" I whisper, but he interrupts me.

"Alma, Adrian, leave me alone. I have enough things to deal with as it is," he says, showing us the way out.

Between last weekend and today: he’s like day and night.

Arcadi, King, Monkov: let’s not forget there are three of them inside there…

I can be mean, too, Mr. King!

Holding a mug of iced coffee, I sit down at my desk and try to forget the nasty mood I’m in. After all, Vadim has every reason in the world to behave like he did. Dimitri and Kate stole part of his life from him; in his eyes, they stand for evil, suffering, solitude; Adrian and I tend to forget that…

Better off thinking of my organza gown instead…

Of my future braided bun…

Of Clémentine and Lily, glowing in Vera Wang’s designer gowns…

Of my King. Of his intense gaze, full of love and emotion when he sees me appear in my perfect gown…

Of the absolute happiness I will feel when I hear that he has become… my husband.

I’ve been waiting for that for twelve years!

A beep comes from my computer’s flat screen, telling me I’ve received an email. No – two emails. The first one is from Vadim, dated seven minutes ago. I open it, with no idea which of my lover’s facets I’m going to see…

How can I resist that???

Two minutes later, my Russian knocks at the door and I unlock it. He shuts it behind him, turns the lock, then throws himself at me. Our clothes end up forming a multicolored stack on my stylish rug, while our sighs echo through the big-windowed room.

Lower the blinds: great idea!

Those fifteen minutes leave me… disheveled. My body is still on fire. I swallow a big gulp of lemon Perrier, slip my hair behind my ears and quickly take stock of the premises. My clothes are back in place, my desk is scattered with folders instead of naked bodies, my lips are no longer biting my lover’s, but a white plastic straw. I grin thinking back on the torrid scene that has just taken place in my workplace. In my precious sanctuary.

The King hurricane has swept through…

Hmm…

Enough daydreaming. I return to my chair in search of the unread email. I click on it and discover a note from Zoey Thompson, Vadim’s former assistant.

Congratulations? How does she know?

Damn celebrity press…

Adrian gives us the bad news a few minutes later: our engagement announcement was published this morning on all the trashy websites. Some articles hint of a quick wedding – which is more or less the case – planned for July – which is true – in a grandiose château like Vaux-le-Vicomte – I try to keep from breaking something.

When Vadim and I return to the penthouse, a few hours later, we still haven’t found the guilty party. It's true that the list to dissect is a long one: about five hundred people received our wedding invitation this very morning.

"What’s more, Daphné told me she has already received over 200 positive responses," Vadim tells me, serving us a glass of chardonnay.

"You look overjoyed!" I grumble, seeing how unenthusiastic he is.

"If it were up to me, there would only be two of us on the list. You + Me."

"I didn’t force you to invite everyone on earth!" I exclaim, feeling defensive. "Daphné summoned all the elite, your whole circle of billionaires! Out of 500 guests, only 100 come from my side!"

"Alma, calm down, I was just saying that…"

"What were you saying, Vadim? That this wedding doesn’t suit you? That it annoys the shit out of you to show people how much we love each other? That it would kill you to act like you were looking forward to it?"

"Don’t start," he sighs, his piercing gray eyes warning me.

"We are getting married in ten days and you haven’t even chosen your best man, Vadim!" I suddenly lose my temper, breaking my glass on the bar.

"Alistair and Basile know they are my best men!" he snaps back in a threatening voice, glaring at me. "They have known it since I asked them, the night I asked you to marry me."

"You didn’t tell me," I whisper, dumbfounded.

"I’m an asshole, remember?" he grumbles before going out of the room, leaving me standing there, like the biggest ass.

King: 1 - Lancaster: 0 

Organza… Think of the organza…

Three days. Three days!

"Alma, let’s get one thing clear: today, you say yes to everything! With a smile! And with Mickey Mouse ears on!" Lily jokes, at the wheel of her secondhand and already nicely battered Austin Mini.

"We found this totally kitsch princess crown, but Madeleine and Séraphine stole it off us," Clem explains, from the back seat.

10 a.m. We trade the Mini for another car. My hen's party begins with a bang, literally… Our merry group of ten frenzied girls – including Pippa, Victoire, Akiko, Kali and friends from just about everywhere – takes off on a ride in a Citroen 2CV. My sister has booked us a totally wild and wacky
vintage
day out, to tour the offbeat corners of Paris. In my car, Alessandro, the handsome driver in the typical blue-and-white striped sailor’s tee, let's us in on all the city’s secrets.

"We're way better off in this
Flying Dustbin
, with our hair blowing in the wind, than in a nerdy limo, don’t you think?" Lily smiles at me, making eyes at the good-looking Italian.

"It's true that the view is particularly nice…" Pippa adds, her eyes glued to the tanned chauffeur, too.

Here we go again… They fall for the same guy… So there’s a cat fight on the horizon…

Around noon, Alessandro the rascal – who took the phone numbers of both his contenders – drops us off in front of a photography studio. My maids of honor stubbornly refuse to tell me what they've got planned, so I have to find out as we go, one thing at a time.

That’s perfect, I LOVE surprises…

Kneeling, hugging, on a Harley, in sexy costumes, in a pyramid: our little group has its picture taken every which way. Every time, I’m pushed into the middle and I tap into my last reserves for a blissful – contrived – smile. Lily and Clem can see how fake it is it, but try to ignore me, probably hoping I'll soon get into the spirit of things. But Victoire, who is a sort of French-style Pippa, cheerfully puts her foot in her mouth:

"Try to look like you’re having fun, Alma. Be natural! Come on, you must be used to it, with all those paparazzi that harass you and your man..."

My man… Who managed to take off to L.A. just days before our wedding…

Little lost Alma is waiting for her fiancé. I repeat: little lost Alma is waiting for her…

"Three days! In three days, I’ll have a brother-in-law," Lily whispers, kissing my cheek.

"Right, I mean, if he does actually show up on the big day." I smile sadly.

"Alma, you chose to share your life with a workaholic – deal with it! King Prod is his baby. But soon, you’ll be his wife…
Number One
!"

"OK, so when are we going to go eye up some guys in boxer shorts and drink frothy Cosmopolitans?" Pippa comes back, holding a giant lollypop.

"Thanks a lot for blowing the secret, Pip’s!" my sister gripes. "You really and truly can’t be trusted…"

Guys in boxer shorts, really?

Affirmative. One of Ms. D’Aragon’s ideas, apparently. After gobbling down a panini, we go into a plush little bar with flashy interior decorating and are greeted by three young, bare-chested bodybuilders. The fair, the dark, and the mulatto bend over backwards for two hours, trying to teach us the art of cocktails: choosing them, making them, drinking them. In their multicolor short shorts, they writhe before our eyes. Some take more advantage of the situation than others. Victoire flirts big time, Alice and Kali eye them over at will, and Akiko blushes up to her ears every time one of the boys says anything to her.