Page 1 of Three Billionaire Grooms and Not the Right Bride

Chapter One

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Hadley

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“Oh no. Oh no. No. No. No.”

I rush toward the woman who seems to be transforming into... something. A second ago, she was a stunning supermodel of an angel. A cascade of dark silk curled to utter flawlessness around her face, and her Cupid's bow lips were stained a soft pink. Her wedding gown fitted her so well it seemed as if the fabric emerged from her own glossy skin like a magic trick.

She is... was perfect. So damn beautiful it hurt my eyes to look at her.

On top of that, she’s marrying not one or two but three of the world’s most sought-after billionaires. I didn’t know men like them existed in this reality of mine, but my gosh. When I searched for images of them online, well, I immediately just closed my browser and went on with my day.

Beautiful is as beautiful gets, isn’t that the saying? Suffice it to say, they would easily confuse me for their shoeshiner. Just as well, I have no interest in polishing their shoes. I know my place in the world, right now, it’s trying to make it to the shore, swimming in waves upon waves of debt. Inherited debt. Thanks, Dad.

Except the billionaires’ very gorgeous, perfectly matched bride-to-be is at this moment switching into something else right before my eyes. From the loveliest princess in the universe to the... gnarly, angry, wicked witch, distorted in proportions that makes my skin quiver.

“What...” she cries, looking at me looking at her in sheer horror. She then looks down at her hands, as big as if she were wearing a pair of giant oven mitts—I can’t even see her pretty nails anymore—before she reaches up and touches her face.

First, she whimpers like a small injured animal, then she spins around and collides with an image of herself in the pure gold-framed floor-length mirror. The wail that escapes her mouth is so shatteringly loud; for a minute I think the mirror might crack.

“What is happening to me?” She stutters the same instant as the door of the luxurious bridal suite of the most expensive hotel in the world, which also happens to belong to her future husbands, swings open.

Tatiana’s mother comes flying into the room; her diamond-encrusted purse clutched under her arm matches her diamond earrings and necklace. She stops dead in her tracks, all the color draining from her face as she takes in the sight of her daughter, whose face has now ballooned to twice its size.

Oh god, this can’t be happening.

“No. No. No. Oh this is a big whoopsie,” I cry. Then I do the only thing I can. I bend and wrap my arms around her butt... in case she takes off like a hot air balloon because of the way she was swelling. Not my finest moment, but panic makes me stupid.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Neal screams at me before she yanks me away. “Tatiana. Tatiana, can you hear me?” With me out of the way, Mrs. Neal grasps her daughter’s arms and shakes her, not too gently, mind you.

“I don’t know...” Tatiana says, but she sounds monstrous. Her lips are so engorged they’re taking up half her face.

“You’re having an allergic reaction to something,” Mrs. Neal says.

No, but she’s not allergic to anything. It’s the first thing I did, per instructions from my new boss. I need to make sure I don’t kill the bride-to-be on what is meant to be the happiest day of her life. In other words, don’t let them taste-test a hors d’oeuvre with a peanut paste in it if they’re otherwise allergic. Wedding Event Planner 101: Check for allergies, dammit. Which I did.

Oh no. Aunt Heather is going to kill me. I told her I wouldn’t mess this up. I did everything right. I got this far, and all that needed to happen was for the bride to walk down the aisle. Cue an unscheduled allergic reaction to god knows what, and everything is going to hell.

Heather Robins lived next door to my parents years and years ago. She runs a very prestigious wedding event company and made a name for herself when she did her friend’s wedding, who happened to be a very famous actress. After that, she was sought after for her unmatched style and ability to give brides their dream-come-true weddings. She also isn’t in it for the money, so when she turns down weddings of massive celebrities, it just makes her more in demand.

She has no plans to expand her company and still runs it from a little shed in her backyard. I ran into her at a grocery store. She heard about my financial issues and offered to take me on as her assistant since I had just been fired from my previous job as a waitress. Don’t ask. She then threw me in the deep end, planning for one of the most talked-about weddings ever.

Everything was going fine until the bride decided to...

“Mom, Mom, what are we going to do?” Tatiana says, or at least that’s what I think she’s trying to say. Why are they still here talking about what they’re going to do?

I know what they need to do. Ambulance. ER. Medication. Life restored. It’s so straightforward.

“You need an ambulance,” I say, since Wedding Event Planner 100 says just don’t let the bride die at all. I’m already on my phone when Mrs. Neal slaps the thing out of my hand.

“No. Let me think for a second,” Mrs. Neal says. I can literally see her think, and it’s truly fascinating and equally scary.

“No ambulance. I’ll get her to the ER. Now help me get her out of this dress,” Mrs. Neal commands.

“It doesn’t matter,” I start to say. She can go in her dress. We can’t waste any more time. But Mrs. Neal whirls around, grabs me by the arms, and scares the last breath out of me.