The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake: Billionaires and Bridesmaids 4 (6 page)

At some point, the speech ended and the crowd surged to their feet, giving Stijn a standing ovation. People whistled and cheered as if the man hadn’t bought himself a damn award, but Asher clapped along with the rest of them just to blend in. When the group started to disperse into partying again, he got out of his chair and moved toward Greer’s table, stalking her.

He saw her heading off with one of the waitstaff and jogged to catch up. “Greer!”

She turned and her face paled at the sight of him. Her mouth firmed into an angry line of distaste, and then she picked up her skirts and continued to walk away.

Yeah, he was definitely on the shit list.

That didn’t deter him, though. Asher headed after her, following her into the house and catching up despite her efforts to hurry. “Hey, wait up. I think we need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Asher.” She didn’t turn to look at him.

He reached out and clasped her arm, noting how warm her skin was, and how soft. And damn it all if he didn’t start to get another inappropriate boner. His body really needed to learn to calm the fuck down. “Just give me five minutes of your time, all right? Then I’ll leave you alone.”

She exchanged a look with the waitress, and then nodded at her. “I’ll be inside in a minute. Go ahead.” When the woman left, Greer sighed and turned back to him, smoothing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “What is it, Asher? I’m very busy tonight with the party.”

“I can imagine. This is a terrific party. I should have known you were behind it.” He knew she’d done weddings for some top-notch clients in New York and always took her job extremely seriously. Of course she’d put on a spectacular party for her father. “Listen. I feel like the last time we saw each other, we . . . well, we fucked up.”

Her eyebrows went up.

Shit. That was apparently the wrong thing to say. “I mean, it was a fuckup, but not that fucking you was a mistake.” God, where was his suaveness when he needed it? Why was he all diarrhea of the mouth when it came to Greer? He could sweet talk anyone, but the moment he came close to her, he babbled like a schoolboy. “Not that I think we should have fucked, of course. We’re friends, and friends don’t sleep with each other. Not if they want to stay friends. And you’ve been avoiding me. We haven’t had our Mondays in the last few months.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be Mondays, you know. It can be any other day. Or it doesn’t have to be lunch. It can be anytime you need it to be if your schedule is all screwed.” He frowned to himself. “I should probably stop saying the word screwed, shouldn’t I?”

Her arms crossed over her chest, pressing her dress tighter against her body. “Is this conversation going somewhere, Asher? Like I said, I’m very busy tonight.”

Greer’s tits looked magnificent in that dress, he realized. They’d been small, perfect handfuls the night they’d slept together and now they seemed . . . doubly abundant. “Did you get a boob job?”

Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “I need to go.”

Fuck, why did he say that? “Sorry. It’s none of my business. Listen.” He reached out and grabbed her elbow when she turned to leave, stopping her. “The reason why I wanted to talk to you tonight is because I was behaving like an ass that night. I was drunk and I wasn’t myself. I was just lost in misery and in booze, and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never dragged you off to the gardens and slept with you.” And damn if that didn’t sound all wrong, too. “Not because you’re not attractive, Greer. You are.”

“You’re not winning me over, Asher.” Her voice sounded hard. “Did you truly come to this party just to tell me that you find me repulsive and you wouldn’t have slept with me if you were sober?”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant at all. You’re hot. I mean, hell, you look smoking hot in that dress tonight.” She was all lush curves, which was surprising given that his memories of her were of her daintiness. But her body had changed in the last couple of months. And something about that was bothering him. “I just . . . don’t think we should have done that. As friends.”

“On that, I agree completely. May I go now?”

Why wasn’t she thawing toward him? He remembered Greer as all soft, shy smiles for him. They’d been friends, good friends. The cool, remote stranger in front of him . . . well, it reminded him of Stijn and the politely disinterested-because-you-are-dirt-to-me expression he wore at all times. “I just . . . you’re a good friend and I don’t want to lose you.”

“We can’t change what happened, Asher.” She hadn’t thawed an inch. One of the waitstaff moved nearby with an enormous cake, and she delicately sidestepped on the path to allow them more room. As she did, the long hem of her skirt got caught in a nearby bush and pulled taut against her body, outlining a slightly rounded stomach.

Asher’s eyes widened as realization struck him. “Greer . . . are you pregnant?”

She bit her lip and averted her gaze.

Oh fuck. She
was
pregnant.

“Is it . . . Is it mine?”

She looked back up again. Her eyes narrowed. She crooked her finger at him, indicating he should lean down. He did—

—And she delivered a ringing slap to his face.

“Go fuck yourself, Asher. I never want to see you again.” And she stormed away into the house.

Asher rubbed his jaw and watched her leave, shocked. He supposed he deserved that. Once again, his idiot mouth had run away with him. Of course it was his. Greer had never dated in all the time he’d known her. She’d been content to sit on the sidelines, as if waiting for something.

Or someone.

She’s carried a torch for you since, like, grade school.

Well, it was clear she no longer carried a torch for him. It had turned to a brand of flaming hate. Just when he’d seen her—really,
really
seen her—and wanted more than friendship from her, he’d gone and fucked it up.

And now Greer was pregnant with his child.

All right, then. He needed to fix this. He could fix this. Asher rubbed his stinging jaw and grinned, oblivious to the strange looks that the passing waitstaff gave him. Greer had loved him for years. Three months of hate couldn’t undo years of longing. He’d just have to make things better. He’d have to show her that he was an idiot—though he’d done a pretty good job of that tonight, really—and win her back.

Winning her back would be the tricky part. He’d have to be around her, and for longer than a brief moment, so his brain could stop short-circuiting at the thought of her breasts and he could actually hold a decent conversation with her. Greer herself would make that difficult, though. She never wanted to see him again, and she’d successfully avoided him for the last three months. All right, then. He’d have to somehow maneuver her into a situation in which she couldn’t avoid him. As he walked back to the party and rejoined the crowd, his brain worked furiously.

When his gaze landed on Stijn again, surrounded by his three matched beauties, the perfect solution hit him.

***

The next morning, bright and early, Asher returned to the Janssen castle to meet with Stijn, and he brought his checkbook.

Greer’s father met him in his study, a surprisingly modern and opulent room given the bizarre medieval look of the rest of the house. “I’m glad you came today,” Stijn said, greeting him with an insincere smile and a handshake.

“Very much so,” Asher lied as the man led him into the room and they both sat. “How’s your daughter today?”

For a moment, Stijn’s expression grew puzzled. “As far as I know, she is fine. Why do you ask?”

“Because she’s pregnant with my child.”

Stijn didn’t pause. He opened a box on his desk and pulled out a cigar, then snipped the end off of it. “Forgive me, Mr. Sutton, but I thought you were coming here today to talk about financials.”

Cold bastard. “I’m getting there.” He relaxed in his chair. “Your company’s in trouble, isn’t it?”

Stijn lit the cigar and took a puff before answering. “Anyone can look at our quarterly reports and see that profit margins have been growing narrower over time. I’m afraid with the Internet, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to compete with free porn websites.”

“I’m prepared to purchase an extremely large share of stock in Dutchman,” Asher said bluntly. “As much as it takes to gain control of the company.”

Stijn froze. He studied Asher for a moment, then placed the cigar in an ashtray. “Go on.”

“I’m willing to pump money into your company to keep it afloat. Whatever you need. My company’s worth billions now and increasing more every day. I can help you turn things around. I’ve got the capital to do so.”

“That is very generous of you. And what do you want from me?”

“I want you to get married.”

His eyebrows went up, and his expression reminded Asher of Greer. “You what?” Stijn repeated.

“I want you to get married,” Asher said again.

“I’ve never married.”

“Now’s a great time then, don’t you think?”

“I have three girlfriends. Triplets.” He put a finger to his ashtray, nudging it idly. “How am I supposed to choose between them?”

“I don’t know and don’t care. Make it a contest. Put it in your magazine. Whatever floats your boat. I don’t care if you marry the family dog. I just want your daughter to plan the wedding.”

“I see.”

“I just have one condition.”

“It seems you have many conditions. What else can you possibly want?”

“I want to be your best man.”

A shrewd smile crossed Stijn’s face. “Now, I am starting to understand.”

“I thought you might.”

G-Force: Guess who I saw at my father’s party last night?

Tay: Who???

G-Force: Asher!

Tay: OMG NO, GREER. JUST NO.

G-Force: Yes. That jerk.

Tay: Did he look like hell? Did you want to slap the shit out of him?

G-Force: No, he looked good. He always looks good, Taylor. Always. The man can’t possibly look bad. It sucks. And as for slapping the shit out of him, I did.

Tay: You did what???

G-Force: He figured out I was pregnant. Guess I’m showing? And then he asked if it was his.

Tay: Oh my god. There are not enough emojis in the world for the expression on my face.

G-Force: Right? And then he kept rambling about how it was such a huge mistake to sleep with me. I wanted to kick him in the nuts. I hate him.

Tay: I’m glad you slapped him because I would have flown in just to do it for you!

G-Force: Thanks, Taylor.

Tay: You should tell Gretchen she needs to kick his skeezy ass out of the wedding.

G-Force: I can’t. She’s stressing out as it is, and with Levi dropping out, there’s been enough scrambling. Forcing her & Hunter to pick another groomsman goes against everything in me as a wedding planner. I’ll just suck it up.

Tay: Hugs. Gotta go. Raid soon!!

Greer clicked off the messages with a sigh, and then put her phone down. Taylor’s idea of asking Gretchen to boot Asher from the wedding was a good one, but she wasn’t brave enough to go through with it. Gretchen had warned her that she planned on being a bridezilla, and so far, well, she hadn’t been far off the mark. She’d wept a storm of anxious tears when Levi had bailed on the wedding, and Greer couldn’t imagine putting her friend through anything like that again just because Greer was too stupid to not sleep with Asher.

It was just going to be Greer’s burden to bear. She could do it, though. She’d see Asher at a few social events between now and the wedding, the rehearsal, and that was about it. She could handle it like an adult. No problem. After all that, she’d never have to see him again.

Her hand smoothed down her stomach. It was slightly rounded despite her only being three months along. She was going to be one of those lucky,
lucky
people that did everything early, it seemed. Early to have morning sickness, early to show, and maybe she’d even have the baby early.

Is it mine?

Her teeth clenched and she wanted to punch something. How many people did he think she was freaking sleeping with? The nerve. If she hadn’t hated him after that night, that little question had cinched it. She felt nothing but loathing for Asher Sutton.

Good riddance.
Even as she thought the words, it hurt. It hurt that he thought so little of her that he even had to question it. It hurt that he’d rambled on and on about what a mistake it was to sleep with her. Being around Asher was like pouring salt into an open wound.

She needed to give it time. Six months from now, Gretchen would be getting married, and Greer would be practically ready to give birth. A lot could happen in six months, and by the time she had to see Asher again, months would have passed. She’d be completely over him by then. Maybe then it’d even stop hurting.

Knock, knock.
“Miss Greer? Your father wants to talk to you downstairs in his study.”

Greer sat up on her narrow bed. “He does?”

“Yes, ma’am. Says it’s very important. Can you come down?”

“I’ll be right there.” Odd that he’d send someone to come find her. Normally he sent her an email—even when she was living under his roof. Perturbed, she found her shoes and then headed downstairs.

The big house was curiously quiet. Normally someone had the television going, and the endless stream of girlfriends had their friends over, or there was staff running around. It seemed like at the Dutchman castle, there was always someone present. Tonight, it was spookily silent. Ominous.

Now she was just being ridiculous.

Her father’s study door was closed, and she knocked to let him know she was there.

“Come in.”

Well, he didn’t sound upset. Then again, Stijn never sounded upset. Greer entered, the nervous feeling remaining in the pit of her belly. It turned to confusion when she entered and saw that Bunni, Kiki, and Tiffi, dressed in their usual Easter egg colors, were seated next to the empty chair waiting for her. All eyes turned to her, and everyone was smiling.

What on earth was going on? “You asked me to come downstairs,
Vader
?”

“I did,” Stijn clasped his hands and leaned forward on his desk. “I have some very exciting news to go over with you. Please, sit.” He gestured at the empty chair. “I think you’ll be pleased.”

She would? Greer sat, mystified. This wouldn’t be business, not with the triplets at hand. But what was so important about his personal life? Was he getting another award? If so, why have a meeting? Why not just send her another email?

Stijn relaxed back in his chair. “I’m afraid this is a bit unprecedented for a man such as myself, but the time has come.” He paused dramatically, and then continued. “I hope your schedule is free for the next month—”

“Actually,” Greer interrupted, fighting the urge to raise her hand and ask permission. “I’m in the process of planning two weddings back in New York, and I really don’t think . . .” Her voice died at the stern look he gave her. “What is it?”

“I’m getting married.”

Her jaw dropped.

Stijn gave her a smug smile, clearly pleased by her shock. “I have surprised you.”

“I, well, yes.” Flustered, Greer twisted her hands in her lap. “I mean, not that it’s not a great thing. I suppose everyone wants to get married at some point in their life. It’s just that you’ve never indicated and well . . .” She looked over at the triplets, all three of which were beaming at her. And well, this was awkward.

Which girlfriend was it? In the last few days, she’d gotten to know the triplets a little more. Kiki was the most normal one, Bunni was a bit of a dreamer and very into new age stuff, and Tiffi, well . . . Tiffi might have been dropped on her head as a small child. The less said about her, the better. But she didn’t know which one her father was going to marry, and wasn’t that strange? Then again, she’d never been able to figure out her father’s motives. She suppressed a pang of hurt that he’d been with her mother for several years and had opted to dump her when she got pregnant instead of marrying her, but one of these blondes would get a ring? What did they have that Lakshmi didn’t?

But that wasn’t fair. Lakshmi was long dead and the past was past. Greer put a smile on her face, because the triplets had been nice to her. Well, nice enough. “Which one of you should I congratulate?”

Tiffi squealed, and Bunni wiggled in her seat. Kiki just smiled. Greer noticed they all three had their hands clasped together in solidarity. Surely . . . this wasn’t going to be a three-for-one deal all the way to the altar, was it?

“I haven’t decided yet,” Stijn said, dragging Greer’s attention back to him.

Her jaw dropped. Again. “Haven’t . . . decided?”

The smile that lit up her father’s face was more than a little devious. “We’re going to publicize the mystery wedding and make it a grand event. I’ll decide when I get to the altar which of my three girlfriends will be my bride.”

Tiffi squealed again.

Greer looked at the three women, then back at her father. They . . . they were serious? Her father was going to have a stunt wedding? And the women were going to go along with it? She didn’t know which one was more ridiculous.

“Congratulations,” Greer managed to choke out. She had a lot of feelings about this, but her father wouldn’t want to hear them. Stijn always did what Stijn wanted, and what anyone else thought didn’t matter one bit to him. It was what made him a successful businessman. It also made him a bit of a prick, she admitted to herself. And she could only imagine how the two “unchosen” sisters were going to handle being rejected at the altar.

“I want you to handle the wedding preparations,” Stijn said abruptly. “I’ve no time to deal with such foolery myself, but since this will be a media event, someone will need to coordinate everything. I’ve chosen you, since you did an acceptable job with my most recent party.”

Acceptable? The praise was just
too
much. “Thank you. I would love to,
Vader
, but like I said, I’m planning two other weddings at the moment, and I really need to check my schedule—”

“You’ll do this for me. I’d hate to have my daughter disappoint her father so severely.” His voice turned cold.

She blinked, taken aback by the abrupt change in his voice. Gone was the jovial businessman. In his place was the cool, cutthroat man that made her cringe. The one that had never given her an ounce of love growing up. And even though Greer knew she was stronger than that, she withered a little under his disapproval.

“I’m sure I can move things around,” she murmured.

“Excellent.” Her father’s smile returned, and Greer felt the knot of anxiety in her stomach relax. “As I said, I do not have time to deal with the planning of a wedding. My best man will handle anything that requires a decision by the groom, and my three potential brides will have carte blanche to do as they like. Since there will be three brides, we shall prepare three weddings and only one will go off.”

This was starting to sound like a nightmare, but Greer kept her hands clasped in her lap. “I see.”

“You can continue to stay here at the castle, of course. And if you need to fly back to New York
temporarily
”—he stressed the word—“then you can of course use my private jet.”

“Thank you.” What else could she say?

“Isn’t this exciting?” Bunni asked, bouncing in her seat again. It made her breasts jiggle magnificently. “We’re all going to be brides!”

“At least until we get to the altar,” Kiki said, and gave Greer a little smile, as if sympathizing with her shock.

Greer’s mind was racing with all the things she’d need to do to plan the wedding. There’d be locations to scout out, press releases, an engagement party, photographers to book, and a hundred small tasks that would fall in her lap. It would take well over a year to coordinate properly, but she could just fly back and forth for Gretchen’s wedding, and make calls from Vegas. As for her other client, she’d simply have to refer her to the competition. “When did you say you wanted this done,
Vader
?”

“I think a month is enough time for this silliness, don’t you?” Stijn opened his laptop. “Now, if you ladies don’t mind, I need to do some work.”

“A month?” Greer sputtered.

The wintry look returned to her father’s eyes. “Is this a problem? Is it that you don’t want to help your father?”

“No, I do. It’s just . . . a month is fine.” She felt faint at the thought, but she also didn’t want to let her father down.

She’d just have a really, really busy month.

***

Gretchen: What do you mean, you’re going to be in Vegas for the next month???

Greer: I’m so sorry. Did you see the press release that my father sent out? He’s marrying one of his girlfriends and he wants me to handle the ceremony. I’m so sorry.

Gretchen: But we have cake tastings on Thursday!!!!!!!!!! Look at how many exclamation points I’m using!!!!!!!! CAKE! TASTING!!!

Greer: I know. I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t hate me. It’s just . . . he’s my father. And it’s all very sudden but it’ll be over in a month.

Gretchen: I can’t believe you’re bailing on cake tastings. Isn’t that something preggo ladies are supposed to be crazy about?

Greer: Can you bring Hunter with you?

Gretchen: Only if I want him to give me smoldering looks the entire time and distract me.

Greer: Well, that’s not so terrible, is it? :)

Gretchen: You crazy romantic, you. Fine. I’ll bring Taylor or Edie or someone. FINE.

Greer: I really am sorry.

Gretchen: I’m just giving you shit. You know I love you. And you know I’ll be texting you pictures of everything to make sure it meets your approval.

Greer: This sounds like a plan. :)

Gretchen: So seriously, which girlfriend is he marrying?

Greer: That is the million dollar question, isn’t it?

Gretchen: Oh man, I wish I could be a fly on THAT wall. That sticky, sticky wall.

Greer: Gross, Gretchen! That’s my dad.

Gretchen: Yeah, but your dad’s a stud. An old, somewhat creepy stud, but still a stud.

Greer: Thanks for that.

Gretchen: Consider that visual subtle revenge for bailing out on the cake tasting. That and I’m going to get marzipan vaginas to decorate the edges of the groom’s cake.

Greer: I’m sorry, and no you are not.

Gretchen: Fine, fine, I’m not.

***

Greer sat down in the dining room with her wedding checklists the next morning after breakfast. There were so many things to be done, and such a short time frame in which to do it. Every time she thought of the one-month deadline, she panicked a little.
One day at a time, Greer
, she told herself. A daily checklist of tasks to be done would help.

She’d started late last night, gathering information. Luckily her father and
The Dutchman
magazine already had a publicist, so they’d worked together to craft a publicity statement to send to all the major news outlets. Her father had wanted it to be a news event, and it was already. Her personal Facebook was flooded with friends linking to the news articles, and her phone was flooding with texts. She tried not to read most of the articles sent to her, since the vast majority mocked her father, his magazine, and his three girlfriends. Poor Bunni, Kiki, and Tiffi. She knew they were excited at the prospect of (possibly) marrying her father, but they were going to be dragged through the mud until then. Heck, probably even after.