I’ve updated Rachel, the wedding planner, on my plans and bookings made so far, and she seemed very appreciative of how much I’d accomplished on my own, and with such a tinybudget. She also reassured me that she’d be respectful of the planning I’d done so far.
She looks up from the device she was tapping on. “You mentioned you chose your wedding dress?”
I purse my lips. I did choose a dress I’d found at the outlet section of a well-known High Street Label. But it’s notthedress, by any means.
"I took the liberty of arranging for you to have a fitting for your wedding dress at Karma West Sovrano’s atelier," Brody interjects.
“Karma West Sovrano’s atelier?” I recall our conversation around my wedding dress. He must have made note of the designer’s name.
“Her sister Summer is a friend of the family. Through her, I contacted the manager of the atelier. They were happy to fit you in and can have the dress ready in time for the wedding.”
“Oh—” I want to say something, but the words stick in my throat. Once again, the contrast between how I struggled through the wedding preparations on my own versus the support I’m getting from Brody screws with my emotions.
When I stay silent, a groove forms between his eyebrows.
“If you’d rather wear the dress you chose?—”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not it. I mean, the dress I chose is something I can wear for other occasions too. It’s just—” I swallow. “That you remembered I wanted to get my dress from this designer.”
It’s unexpected.
“Told you I have a good memory.” His voice is casual, but the intent in his eyes signals his actions are no coincidence.
Which is confusing. Because didn’t he tell me he doesn't believe in getting emotionally involved with anyone? And isn’t our arrangement one of convenience? Yet, he’s acting like there’s something more between us. It’s confusing.
He must see the disbelief in my eyes, for his features shutter. “If that’s not what you want, then of course, it’s not a problem.
I hesitate. Am I going to turn down a Karma West Sovrano designer bridal gown for my wedding?
I’ve picked out the exact wedding dress I want from one of her collections, too.
Surely, I’m not going to let my ego stand in the way of getting the dress of my dreams?
“And the cost?” I venture.
“Nothing’s too expensive for my bride.”
Rachel sighs.
I flush. There it is. That possessiveness in his tone which makes my blood heat, and my nipples harden, and causes my pussy to melt. Goddamn. When he acts so solicitous, it makes me feel like we’re getting married for real. Which is what he said this is. A real wedding. Except, it's not for love.
That sobers me up.
“Thank you,” I say stiffly.
His gaze narrows at my tone. “Of course. Your appointment with the atelier is for tomorrow afternoon.”
He turns to Rachel. “If you can ensure they have her measurements beforehand?”
I sit up. "I can’t make that. I have a meeting with the legal team on the compliance matters, then.”
He stares at me steadily. “Your fitting is more important. You can push back the meeting."
“But—”
“That’s an order.” The softness of his tone takes the sting out of it.
I take in the resolve in his gaze and nod.
