The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance) (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sanniyah

At
3:24AM, the doctor came out and spoke to my mother. She sagged against the wall
and nodded several times, then turned to me. "Yahya, go home honey. He's
okay."

I
headed home and tossed and turned for a few hours before getting up again.
Hungover with both grief and alcohol, I now regard the wreck of my reflection
in my warped bathroom mirror.

I look
sallow, with dull, swollen eyes. I quickly down two glasses of water, feeling
them roil through my tenuous belly, then step into the shower and let the hot
water rain about my shoulders.

Otis is
okay, but it is the degree of "okay" that has me still in shock. When
I saw him in his hospital room, he was sleeping, but the pronounced droop of
the left side of his mouth made it clear that he was not the same. "He's lost
the left side of his body," the nurse explained. "He's going to have
to work hard to get it back."

My
mother's words ring through my memory. "He's been working so hard for so
long...."

Mentally
I shake myself. I have an appointment at ten this morning to help Camilla with
her wedding dress. She texted out of the blue at six in the morning to confirm,
which struck me as rather odd, but I jumped to reply. After the debacle with
Carter, I am surprised she hasn't fired me yet. But if anything, Camilla seems
even more eager to see me than I am to see her.

"Sanniyah!"
She greets me with a hug that startles me, and almost sets me to crying again.
She is so warm and genuine, and I feel as fragile as an egg.

"It's
so good to see you again," I tell her, feeling truly touched by her
reaction.

"I'm
happy to see you too," she smiles. "I need some expert guidance here.
I'm not used to
fancy."

"To
be honest, neither am I." I look at her and widen my eyes in mock horror.
"Whoops, probably shouldn't have told you that."

 
She laughed, then spreads her hands in
mock submission. "Okay, let's do this."

 
Kaufman's is the most exclusive bridal
salon in the downtown area, and I figured that, despite Camilla's protests to
the contrary, it would most fit with her budget and tastes.

The
entryway is through a heavy wooden door, more fitting for a ski lodge than a
storefront. But once I'm inside, I can see why the owners chose to wall
themselves off from the dirty streetscape below. The interior is all soft tones
of blue, with tinkling spa music played in through hidden speakers. Black clad
salespeople swish silently passed us, ferrying armloads of white dresses to the
private dressing rooms, where, presumably, eager brides are receiving treatment
that would fit royalty.

I sneak
a quick look at Camilla, who is standing stock still, a fearful smile frozen
across her face, her arms held stiffly at her sides. She looked terrified.

"May
I help you?" The receptionist's voice is barely above a murmur, so it takes
me a moment to register that she is speaking to us.

"Easton,"
I step in smoothly, when Camilla shows no sign of answering. "We have an
appointment at ten."

"Yes,
of course," the receptionist eyes are sparkling, and I know the Easton
name means something to her. "I've put you with Veronica, one of our most
experienced associates. Can I get you anything to drink, some champagne maybe?"

I look
back at Camilla, who still resembles a deer in the headlights. "Yes,
champagne might be exactly what we both need."
Hair of the dog that bit you
I think silently,
Lord knows it can't make the pounding in my head any worse.

The
receptionist ushers us back to an expansive private dressing room, tricked out
with a lavish three-way mirror under a spotlight, with a wooden platform set in
the center where the bride can stand to show off for her assembled audience.
There is an elegantly carved armchair in the corner, and along the back wall
sits a tufted loveseat. Camilla and I sit down on that; Camilla perched at the
edge like she's ready to run.

She
needs a distraction, I think to myself. "So we haven't talked about
this," I start. "I know it's an island wedding, destination. When I
went to visit the… " I couldn't bring myself to say Carter's name,
"Wedding site… I was picturing a beach wedding. Is this what you're
thinking too?"

Camilla
nods, still wide-eyed. Her eyes are bright and shiny, like she is close to
tears. Hurriedly, I change the subject.

"Well,
I don't know why they're making us wait like this." I stand up in stride
to the door, poking my head out. "Excuse me," I flag down a dress-laden
associate. "We are waiting for Veronica?"

"Of
course of course," she smiles unctuously at me, and gestures over her
shoulder to a closed room. "Veronica is just finishing up with another
client."

I
narrow my eyes. "But we have an appointment," I say crisply.

The
associate shrinks back from my glare. "I'll go tell her you are
waiting," she says hurriedly, then turns on her heel to trot over to the
far off dressing room.

I turn
back with an exasperated huff, only to find Camilla watching me with a strange
smile on her face. "Was I too harsh?" I ask her.

"No,"
she shakes her head vigorously. "In fact, I was just wondering if I could
hire you to get other things done in my life."

I laugh
and shake my head; "Wedding planning really is the only part of my life
where I am this effective."

She
cocks her head and gives me a sly look." Really?"

"Really,"
I say definitively, sagging back into the loveseat. "Everything else is
kind of in a shambles right now."

Camilla
is interrupted from answering by a soft knock on the door. "Camilla
Easton?" The associate has finally shows up. I sigh with relief, but
Camilla only looks more frightened. Veronica moves like a ballet dancer, all loose-limbed
and lithe, her dark brown hair caught up in the severe bun at the crown of her
head. Her perfect complexion is as pale as a ghost, with only a slight wing of
eyeliner at the corner of each eye. The effect makes her look unnervingly like
a cat.

Since
Camilla isn't moving, I rise to my feet. "Veronica, thank you for seeing
us. My name is Sanniyah Jones. I'm Miss Easton's wedding planner."

Veronica
slides her hand into mine without shaking it, as if she expects me to kiss it
instead. I instantly dislike her. "Miss Easton is planning a beach wedding
for early October. We'd like to try on a few styles to start - strapless,
A-line would be best I am thinking, but we are open to your input."

 
Veronica blinks slowly, fixing Camilla
with a laserlike stare that, if Camilla wasn't nervous before, would have
definitely set her on edge. The way she scans her up and down puts me in mind
of a robot. Her eyes are just as dead.

Finally
she seems to blink to life. "I have some ideas in mind," she says coolly.
"Make yourselves comfortable. Did you get your drink?"

"Actually
no," I tell her, equally as cool. "The receptionist said she would
bring it and never did."

"I'll
see that you get it."

"Please
do." I don't know why I am feeling so angry with this perfect stranger.
Maybe it's because she seems hell-bent on deliberately intimidating my
sensitive client. But I am ready to pull her hair.

When
Veronica closes the door, Camilla lets out a huge exhale and that is the last
straw. "We don't have to stay here," I remind her. "If you are
uncomfortable, then we can just leave."

Camilla
twists her wedding ring around and around her finger. "No, no we made the
appointment, we should stay." But her voice is wavering, the slight tremor
in the back of her throat telling me that she's lying.

"Okay,
I hear you," I tell her. "I'll be the bad guy here."

I throw
open the door and march to the back of the store, ignoring the wide-eyed
protests of the receptionist. "Veronica? Yoo hoo, Veronica?"

Veronica
slides out from the rack of dresses she is leafing through and raises a
perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Veronica,
I am so sorry, but Miss Easton has been called away. We have to go."

"Oh
well, I am sorry to hear that!" It's startling how quickly Veronica veers
from icy cool to overly sweet. "Let me get my appointment book and we'll
definitely reschedule you for as soon as it's convenient."

I know
this trick. "If Miss Easton wants to come back, I will call an make the
appointment at that time. Thank you." I swivel on my heel and head
straight back to Camilla who is sitting stock still in the dressing room.

"We
can go, honey," I tell her.

Her
eyes shine wetly for a moment, and then she bursts into tears. I stand for a
moment, shocked at her reaction, and then I sit down next to her. I don't know
what to do with my hands, so I settle on patting her knee quietly as she blots
at her eyes with a tissue.

"I'm,
suh...sorry," she quietly gasps. "This...this is harder than I
thought." She takes a deep breath and collects herself. "My
mother," she whispers. "It's not that I don't appreciate you being
here with me..."

It
clicks into place. "But I'm not the one you envisioned doing this
with."

She
presses her lips together in a tight line and looks down at her hands. I reach
out and cover them with mine, and she grips me tightly before her face crumples
and she is bawling again.

"I
am so sorry, here are your drinks right now...." The receptionist freezes
in the doorway at the spectacle before her.

"Put
them on the table there," I snap as Camilla hides her face in my shoulder.
"Thank you."

When
the door closes again, Camilla barks out a strange little laugh. "My
mother would have had her head for not knocking," she says, her chest
hitching slightly. "She was big on manners and politeness."

My mind
flashes to Carter and the polite facade he wore just before he started kissing
me and I shiver slightly. "She sounds like a great lady."

Camlla's
eyes go far away, fixed at a point over my shoulder. "She was. I'm shy,
always have been, and she was my protector. I had a terrible stutter growing
up, and people would just gloss over me rather than listen to me struggling to
talk.
 
My mother went to bat for me
a million times, speaking up for me when I couldn't find my own voice."
Her eyelashes flutter slowly. "Carter tries to do the same now. I know he
wants to have the wedding at his place to make up to me somehow that my dad and
mom can't be there. He blames himself so badly."

Her
words are hitting me in a sore, hurting place. It's all I can do to nod and
keep my own tears from falling.

"Carter
wants to be mom, and dad, and my brother all at the same time, because he
thinks it's his fault that mom and dad were killed." She says this idly,
like it's information that I should already know, but I am thunderstruck.

"How
could it be his fault?" I blurt, then redden for prying into her personal
grief.

Camilla's
eyes move to mine. "Because the paparazzi thought they were chasing
him."

I
blink. It's like her words are bouncing off of me, hitting me again and again
until I can't do anything but clutch my belly in submission. Suddenly things
seem to slide into place.

"Which
is why he lives alone on that island now," I realize. "He feels safe
there."

Camilla
nods her head.

Just
then the door swings wide open. Seven women burst through, shouting loudly in
Italian at one another. They all fall comically silent when they see Camilla
and me sitting there, tear-streaked and clutching each other.

I rise
with as much dignity as I can muster. "Sanniyah Jones, wedding planner,"
I smile, brandishing my card. "I'd love to help you plan your special day.
Miss Easton and I are all done here, I hope you find the one!"