The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake: Billionaires and Bridesmaids 4 (23 page)

Asher’s betrayals had gutted her, though. She didn’t know why he’d choose to manipulate and use her, but she guessed it had to do with the baby. Aching hurt blossomed through her chest, and she wheeled her suitcase down the steps, letting it thump on the hardwood. Every thump was like a
fuck you
to the world.

Fuck you to her father.

Fuck you to the wedding.

Fuck you to Asher.

Fuck you, Asher.

Fuck you.

By the time she got to the bottom of the stairs, someone had come out of the kitchen to see what was going on. Marta stood there, wiping her hands, concern on her lined face. “
Mija
, what’s wrong? Why are you leaving?”

Greer tried to think of a nice, calm answer. She stood in the hallway and thought and thought, and her lower lip pushed out and trembled, and then she was crying.

“My poor
mamacita
.” Marta enfolded Greer in her arms and led her to the kitchen, rubbing her back. “You come sit with me and tell me all about it.”

***

Something was wrong.

Asher had texted Greer all night, only to get no response. He’d known she was busy, but she normally made time for his texts, taking a few moments here and there to send him sweet, funny notes throughout the day.

Today had been nothing but silence, and it worried him. Was she sick? Was the baby okay? As long as Greer was okay, he could handle anything, even if she’d miscarried. It would destroy him, but he loved her too much to let her go. His hands clenched on the steering wheel as he drove up to the Dutchman castle.
Just let Greer be all right. Nothing else matters.

Greer’s practical little rental wasn’t in the driveway. That wasn’t surprising, but it sent a shiver down his spine anyhow. He went to the front door and banged on it a few times. He could hear voices inside, and chaos. Someone was sobbing. Someone else sounded as if they were screaming. It made his heart feel as if it were encased with ice.

Something was really wrong.

When no one opened the fucking front door, he jiggled the lock until it opened and let himself in. “Hello?” he called out, storming into the house. There were boxes everywhere, and folding tables lined the foyer and every inch of wall space. The crying was coming from the dining room where Greer normally held her meetings, and he headed that way.
Just let Greer be all right.

Inside the dining hall, he saw the triplets and a few other people he didn’t recognize. The long table they normally sat at was trashed, every inch of it covered in papers and what looked like the remains of a bridesmaid’s gown. An older woman in an apron stood hugging one of the girls as she sobbed into her shoulder.

Asher stared at the chaos. “Where’s Greer? Is she all right?”

Someone started crying harder again. The others were silent.

“Where
is
she?” He clenched the back of the chair in front of him to keep from flinging it at someone’s head. “Tell me she’s all right.”

“She quit,” one of the blonde triplets sobbed. “She quit and we’re getting married in two days!”

“And my bridesmaids’ gowns are ugly!” wailed another. “How can they go down the aisle looking like big purple idiots!” She ripped at one of the sleeves on the dress spread on the table. “And I don’t know who to call to fix it!”

“She quit?” he repeated.
Please, God, let that be the only problem
. Let her be safe and healthy. “She’s all right?”

“She left,” the woman in the apron spoke up. She gave Asher a judgmental look. “She packed her things and went home to New York this afternoon.”

“What? Why?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Because you lied to her.”

***

Greer went off the grid for the next few days.

No television. No Internet. No email. She’d left instructions at the front desk of her building that no one was to be let in to see her. Her phone was turned to silent and her texts were muted. She didn’t want to hear a thing about the wedding. She didn’t want to know if it was canceled, or if it had gone off. She didn’t want to know which of the triplets he’d married. She didn’t want to hear a single solitary thing about her father or his best man.

Instead, she went to the corner store, bought all the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and potato chips they had, and sat on her couch and watched Netflix. She watched every episode of
Outlander
. She watched all six seasons of
Breaking Bad
. She ate all the chips and most of the ice cream. She might have also puked all the chips and most of the ice cream, but it didn’t matter.

What did it matter when no one in the world loved you? She slept on her sofa and cried herself to sleep each night, feeling unloved, alone, and miserable. Asher had lied to her and was using her to get to the baby. He didn’t love her. He didn’t want her. All those sweet things he’d whispered? All the times he’d touched her? Lies. All of them.

The day after the wedding, she ran out of food. She splashed cold water on her face, ran a comb through her snarled hair, and changed out of her ratty “depression” pajamas and into her favorite jeans and T-shirt . . . and then grew even more depressed when they were too tight. Her body was changing, and the reminder of it was a good thing, she supposed.

It was time to get her head out of the sand and time to move on. The first order of business? She looked around her small apartment, now messy with empty ice cream containers, discarded chip bags, and a nest of blankets on her couch. She needed a new place. Someplace with enough room for a baby. Maybe she’d call Hunter and have him set up arrangements with one of his real estate agents to help her search. Maybe near the park. She liked the park.

Greer picked up her phone. The screen rolled with dozens of text messages. She deliberately ignored them, swiping right without reading a single one. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t care.

She started to dial Gretchen’s number . . . and then hung up. Maybe Chelsea, or Taylor, her other friends in the city . . . but she hung up on those before the call could go through. If she talked to them, they’d want to know what was going on with the wedding. By now they would have heard that either the wedding had gone off or it hadn’t, and Greer didn’t want to explain why she didn’t know anything about it and why she’d left.

Maybe she’d go to the park and walk instead. Clear her head. She grabbed her keys and her purse and headed out the door.

In the lobby of the building, she smiled at the front doorman, Clark. He nodded over at one of the couches in the waiting area, and she looked over.

A blonde was there, her legs curled under her body, a bright blue workout bag clutched in her lap. Tears streaked the makeup on her face and she sniffed loudly.

Oh no. Greer stared. That blue bag . . . Blue was Kiki. But Kiki was the sensible one, wasn’t she? “Kiki?”

The blonde’s head whipped around and she lit up at the sight of Greer. “You’re here!” Then she burst into new tears, grabbing tissue out of the box on the table. “Hi,” she said, and then began to bawl even louder.

Oh, crap. Greer delicately sat down on the lobby sofa next to Kiki. “What are you doing here? You’re not in Vegas?”

Kiki shook her head, her shoulders moving with suppressed sobs.

Poor Kiki. If she was here then . . . “Which sister was it? Tiffi or Bunni?” She reached out and touched Kiki’s knee sympathetically. All of the triplets were sweet, if flighty, but she’d liked Kiki the best.

“I don’t know,” Kiki wailed. “I left, too! And I d-don’t have anywhere t-to g-goooo.” Her bawling reached new heights, and she mashed the tissue against her eyes. “So I c-came here b-but they wouldn’t let me s-see you and I’ve been here for hours and hours—”

Greer bit her lip and cast a sympathetic look at the front desk. He gave her an aggrieved nod as if to say,
yup, hours and
hours
. “You want to come upstairs and have some tea, Kiki? We can talk there.”

The crying woman nodded, and got to her feet, clutching her bag to her chest. Greer led her to the elevator and then back up to the apartment she’d so recently escaped from.

“I’m sorry it’s a bit of a mess,” Greer said. “I’ve been having a hard time, too.”

Kiki nodded, wiping her nose with a ball of Kleenex. “I’m glad you did. When you left, I realized that I could, too.” She gave Greer a miserable look. “I felt . . . trapped. I didn’t know how to get out, so I just ran. I was worried he was going to pick me, you know? And then I was worried he wouldn’t.” She swiped at new tears.

Greer picked up her blankets from the couch and moved them aside, then handed Kiki her box of Kleenex. She’d needed her fair share the last few days, herself. Curling up next to her on the sofa, Greer gave Kiki a sympathetic look. “Did you want to marry Stijn?”

Kiki exhaled slowly, and then shook her head. “I think . . . he was fun to date at first, you know? All that money and power. But he’s kind of nasty when he’s mad at someone, and he would get mad all the time for no reason. I just couldn’t be married to that. I don’t want to be a trophy wife, you know? The other day in bed, I asked him what his plans were for his wife, whichever one of us he picked. And he said he didn’t see why things had to change at all.” Her face crumpled and she started wiping at her cheeks again. “That’s when I knew he wasn’t taking things seriously. That it wasn’t going to end up being a real relationship. He doesn’t want a wife or a partner. He wants someone he can occasionally fuck, hand fifty dollars, and tell her to go buy herself something pretty.” She shook her head. “I don’t want that.”

“What about your sisters?”

A small, watery laugh escaped Kiki. “On that, we disagree. My sisters would be perfectly fine with just a fat wallet and a husband that doesn’t care what they do. I want the fairy tale, you know?”

Oh, did Greer ever know. She’d wanted it, too.

“I want what you and Asher have,” Kiki continued. “You guys just look so in love.”

“It’s a lie,” Greer said flatly. “He’s just a really good pretender. He told me what I wanted to hear and I believed it.”

Kiki looked up from her tissue, surprised. “Really? He seemed to adore you.”

“
Seemed
being the operative word.” A sad knot formed in Greer’s throat. “He was just faking it.”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen guys fake being interested. Your father, for one.” She grew pensive. “Asher just always seemed . . . so into you. Even when you hated him. I caught him looking at you with this soft look on his face, and I thought, gosh, I wish someone would look at me like that.” She sighed. “I’m sorry if I’m dropping my problems into your lap.”

“It’s okay.” Greer reached out and squeezed Kiki’s hand. Oddly enough, hearing Kiki’s problems had made hers seem . . . less significant and more confusing. She’d been wallowing and moping, terrified that Asher didn’t love her. But hearing Kiki’s confessions and knowing Stijn Janssen like she did, she realized that Kiki was right. There was a difference between pretending to care for someone and genuinely trying to please them.

And Asher? Greer was naïve, but she didn’t think he’d go to such lengths for her if he didn’t care on some level. Which just made everything that much more confusing.

“I’m sorry to show up on your doorstep,” Kiki said with a sniff. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Of course you can stay here. I certainly don’t mind.”

“Even if it’s for a few months?” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I was thinking about going back to school, maybe. Cosmetology . . . or cooking. Or something. Just . . . something that doesn’t involve marriage to someone that still wants to sleep with both my sisters after the wedding day.” And she began to cry again.

Greer patted her awkwardly. Kiki did have a point. “What about Bunni and Tiffi? Why didn’t they leave?”

Kiki’s mouth twisted. “They didn’t care. To them, if Stijn said he loved them, it was enough. But I know it didn’t mean anything to him when he said it. They were just words, you know? Words to shut us up.” Her jaw trembled. “I need for love to be proven to me, you know? Anyone can say the words.”

“I know,” Greer whispered. Oh, did she ever.

Greer settled Kiki in her guest bedroom. The normally bubbly blonde was full of tears and misery, and by the time she’d lain down for an afternoon nap, Greer was exhausted just from trying to comfort her. With Kiki’s unhappiness in the forefront, she couldn’t think about her own issues.

And she desperately needed to think.

She wrote a quick note to Kiki explaining that she’d gone for a walk and would be back soon, and then left. The park would have to wait for another day, but just getting out of the apartment and stretching her legs was a nice change. She walked down the block to her favorite corner store and picked up a few things she was out of, including more tissues. As she paid for the items, she saw a tabloid at the checkout stand.

THE DUTCHMAN WEDDING—HEAVEN . . . OR HELL?

Oh good lord. Already? She hesitated, then slapped a copy of the tabloid on top of her groceries. “I want that, too.”

Five minutes later, she was down the street and her nose was buried in the paper. She’d said she wouldn’t read the tabloids, but seeing it in front of her face had changed her mind. The bride was radiant in purple trimmed white—Tiffi, then. She looked so happy, and beautiful in the photos. There was one photo of Bunni looking sad, but in the next photo, she showed off her own “commitment” ring that Stijn had given her on the same day.

Count on her father to find a way to soothe ruffled feathers without requiring more than opening his wallet.

There was a small corner blurb about the flowers and the catering and how the wedding was beautiful and “surprisingly elegant.” Well, that was nice, she supposed, though the
surprisingly
thing grated on her nerves a bit. Then again, it was a wedding with a surprise bride, so maybe Greer was being too sensitive about things.

Under a picture of the happy couple eating a piece of cake together, there was another large blurb.
Runaways!
was the title, and went into detail of Kiki’s flight, and theorized as to why she’d left just hours before the wedding. The tabloid also mentioned that the best man was missing, and speculated that possibly the two of them had run off together.

Seeing as how Kiki was up in Greer’s apartment? Yeah, that was a big fat no.

There was no mention of Greer. No mention of the hours she’d put in to the wedding, the long, hard work she’d done for her father. He hadn’t thanked her in his speech, instead simply gushed about his new bride. Her father was good at pretending when it came to business, and to him, the wedding was nothing but business.

It didn’t even hurt. Well, okay, it hurt a little. Mostly, though, she found it sad.

It was like Kiki had said, she needed love to be proved to her. Greer was the same way. Now that she’d had time to mentally go through some of her thoughts, she knew the situation wasn’t the same as her father’s pretending. There was more to her and Asher, but what it was, she didn’t know. He’d told her he loved her. . . . but he’d also tried to get her to sign a bad contract. He’d set up a sham wedding to spend time with her . . . but most of the time was spent pleasuring
her
and making her happy.

After all, she realized, she’d seen Asher at his worst that night at Gretchen’s party. He didn’t have to try if he just wanted to get laid. Like her father, he could snap his fingers and pretty women would come running, just because he had money. He’d gone after Greer. Pursued her.

But she didn’t trust him. Not after what she’d found out.

Love had to be proven.

All right, then. She’d have to figure out a way to test him. Thoughtful, Greer tucked the tabloid under her arm and continued walking.

***

The idea hit her late that night, when she was lying in bed, sad and miserable and alone. After all the nights spent in Asher’s bed, it was still strange to sleep alone in her own, and she had a hard time falling asleep. She’d been thinking about Asher and how confused she was over whether or not he truly loved her like he’d said, when she’d remembered Donna.

Donna of the prior relationship. Betraying Donna, who’d nearly tanked his business and broke his heart in one fell swoop. Donna, the high school sweetheart who had been Asher’s only love until now. Donna of the flaming red hair and vivacious personality, who was nothing like Greer.

She picked up her phone, curious.

Another wave of text messages filled the screen, all from Asher.

Asher: Sweetheart, please call me.

Asher: I’m worried about you.

Asher: Don’t do this, Greer. Don’t cut me out. Please.

Asher: Talk to me. Let me know what’s wrong.

Asher: I came to your building and they won’t let me in to see you. I’m calling Hunter on Monday to buy the damn building if you don’t answer me soon. I’m serious, Greer. We need to talk. I need to know what’s freaking you out so I can fix it.

Asher: Please, sweetheart. Just call me. Let me know you’re all right.

The texts made her heart ache. She’d been doing her best not to read them over the long weekend, because reading them just reminded her of what a good thing she’d thought she’d had with Asher. For that brief, happy window of time, she’d been so happy. She’d thought that maybe,
maybe
they could have a future together. Maybe they could be the little family she’d always dreamed of.

Now she didn’t know what to think. Lies had been piled on top of lies, and she deserved to know the truth. Her baby deserved it, too.

Again, she thought of Donna. Did Donna still live in NYC? Greer couldn’t remember. Her last name was a strange one, Sunshine. Greer had thought it was a silly last name but it also made it easy to remember and even easier to Google. She found her within moments, and paid a fee on a telephone lookup website to get her private phone number.

Donna was the key to all of this, Greer realized. If she knew for sure that Asher was done with Donna and was serious about her, she could look past all the ridiculous lies and the made-up wedding—though really, thinking about that still made her furious—and she could at least be friends with him if she understood what he was thinking. If she could understand where he was coming from. Something. Anything.

She stared at Donna’s phone number, hesitating over sending a text. What could she say to her that wouldn’t sound like she was a crazy person?

We have a mutual ex and we need to talk because I don’t know if he’s my ex?

Hey, did Asher ever make other people put on a fake wedding just so he could spend time with you?

Did you guys ever pretend to practice sex even though he was really good at it?

Anger burned in her belly, and she put the phone down. Strangely enough, the thought of Asher with Donna—Asher touching Donna—filled her with fury and jealousy. She didn’t want to bring Donna back into the picture. What if she did and Asher forgot all about Greer again?

But . . . if she didn’t, how could she ever be certain of anything Asher told her? His lies were mixed with his truths.

Remember when you asked if I was either a liar or in love?

Her heart hurt. She knew he was a liar. Why was she so determined to hope that he was also in love? Was it just the baby? Was this her trying to feather her nest? She put the phone down and closed her eyes, trying to picture Asher as a father. Every time she thought of him, though, she thought of his teasing smile, the wicked look in his eyes just when he was about to thrust into her. The way he kissed her neck. The way he held her and they just talked for hours while in bed together.

It wasn’t that she wanted a father for her baby. She wanted Asher for herself. Always had. Maybe she always would.

Tears brimming in her eyes, Greer picked up her phone again and texted Donna before she could chicken out.

Greer: Hi, Donna. It’s me, Greer Chadha-Janssen. I used to be one of Asher’s roommates back in college. Are you still in NYC? I hope so. Can we set up a time to talk over lunch? I need a favor and I’m hoping you’ll help me. I’ll make it worth your while.

***

She met Donna at a small, anonymous coffee shop in Brooklyn the next afternoon. Well, sort of. Greer got there early and knew instantly when Donna arrived. Dressed in a cool, summery white dress that showed off every line of her body, Donna drew the attention of everyone in the cafe. Greer, on the other hand, was wearing a plain T-shirt and leggings, since her jeans were a little too tight to be comfortable this morning. Plain and boring, that was Greer. She knew it even as Donna’s gaze skimmed over the cafe’s customers, looking for Greer. Seriously? Did the woman not remember what she looked like? Was she truly that forgettable?

Greer raised a hand into the air when Donna’s gaze moved over her again without recognition. Yes, apparently, she was that forgettable.

“Greer?” Donna sauntered forward and extended her arms. “Oh, my goodness. When you said you and Asher had been dating, I thought you were the blonde one, not—” she paused.

Not the brown one?
“Please sit,” Greer said, determined to keep the conversation aboveboard. She needed Donna’s help, like it or not. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“I have to admit that I have an ulterior motive,” Donna said with a swing of her big, bouncy red hair. “I’ve been trying to contact Asher for a few weeks and I can’t get ahold of him.”

“You have?” She kept her voice mild, even though her hands clenched on her cup.
He’s mine
, she wanted to growl.
You had him and you fucked away your chances.

Donna gave an aggrieved little grimace. “I just moved back to the city and can’t connect with him. Do you know if he’s lost his phone?”

“He didn’t lose it. He’s been in Vegas with me.” Okay, so she felt a little catty pointing that out. She also wanted to point out that she was having the man’s baby, but that would probably make Donna turn and run and again, and she needed Donna. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.

“Oh.” Donna tilted her head. “So what’s this about, then?”

“I want you to help me see if Asher’s feelings for me are legitimate.”

Donna’s eyes widened. “I . . . don’t understand.”

“I love Asher. And I thought he loved me, but now I’m not sure.” She swallowed hard, taking a moment to compose herself. It was difficult to lay herself bare like this, when everything inside her screamed for her to protect herself, protect the baby, not to let anyone know how she was feeling. She cleared her throat and continued. “Asher says he cares for me. I don’t know if I can trust him. I want you to meet with him and ask him to reconcile with you. I want to see his reaction.”

Donna’s jaw dropped. “You want to see if he’ll try to get back together with me?”

Greer nodded. Throwing Donna—his first love—in his face would prove to her if he truly wanted Greer or if it was just an act to get to the baby. It was underhanded and wrong and she didn’t know what else to do.

“How . . . how will this work?” Instead of calling her a dirty rat or threatening to call the cops on her like Greer had envisioned, Donna looked intrigued.

“I thought you might record him, or wear a microphone or a baby monitor. Something. I don’t know. Something where I could hear your conversation.” Greer twisted her hands in her lap. “I know it sounds crazy, but I just have to be sure.”

“And what do I tell him? Hi, Asher, I know I fucked things up between us two years ago but I’ve turned over a new leaf?”

Actually, that didn’t sound too bad to Greer. “Whatever you need to tell him. Just make it believable.”

“It should be believable,” Donna said with a sniff. “Like I said, I’ve been trying to get in touch with him for the last week. It’s funny that you should ask me to do this . . .” She let her words trail off delicately and a tiny smile played on her mouth.

Oh no. Greer’s heart sank. “You want him back?”

“I do,” Donna said and crossed her legs delicately, adjusting her skirts. “Honestly, that’s why I’m entertaining this. If he’s with you, then I guess we’re done.” She shrugged. “But if he has feelings for me, I’d like to know. I’d like a second chance.”

“Because of his money or because of who he is?” Greer asked flatly.

Donna tilted her head and frowned at Greer. “That’s a crass question.”

It was a truthful one. Did it even matter, though? If she threw Donna at him and he chose her over Greer, then what did it matter if Donna wanted him for his money? Wouldn’t he deserve that after how he’d treated Greer?

But it hurt, because she still loved him despite everything.

“I’m sorry,” Greer said, even though it galled her to apologize. “I’m just . . . touchy at the moment. It sounds like we both want the man. This is the only way to see which one of us he truly wants. Do you agree?”

“I do.” Donna gave another toss of her glorious hair. Jeez. The woman shook her mane more than a show pony. How had Greer not remembered that? “And whoever he wants is whoever he gets.”

Provided he apologizes and gets his head out of his ass, yes
. “All right. And the other will give him up, no questions asked.”

Donna’s smug little smile told Greer that she wasn’t too worried about losing. “So how should we do this? Can I compare phone numbers with you? Like I said, I can’t seem to get ahold of him lately.”

“Sure. He’s been texting me constantly for the last week.” And oh, it felt good to pull out her phone and scroll through the list of endless text messages she’d gotten from Asher recently, if only to see the smug perfection on Donna’s face fade a little.

They set up their plan. Donna would text Asher and tell him it was regarding Greer and ask him to meet her in a public place. She’d place her phone on speakerphone so Greer could hear everything that Asher said. That was all. It seemed ridiculously simple, and outrageously sneaky, and by the time Donna left, Greer was upset and unhappy and ready to throw up all the hot chai tea she’d drank at the cafe.

She opted for a cab home instead of the subway, and laid down in the backseat the entire time, sick to her stomach and worried about what she’d just done. Over and over, her phone buzzed with texts and each one was like a little mental shake.