Home > A Hollywood Bride(46)

A Hollywood Bride(46)
Author: Nadia Lee

“Thank you,” he says against my lips when he can catch his breath.

“For what?”

He presses his mouth to my forehead. His voice is quiet when he says, “For completing me.”

* * *

It takes one more day to get our marriage license. Apparently Ryder hired local lawyers, who did what they had to to expedite the process.

“We don’t have to do it today if you don’t want to,” he says as we share breakfast in bed. Peeraya has prepared omelets and whole wheat toast, plus freshly squeezed mango and pineapple juice.

Since my appetite is back with a vengeance, I stuff my face with another bite of eggs and shake my head. After I wash it down with the juice, I say, “I do want to. Let’s do it.”

“You sure? Don’t you want to walk down the aisle with Simon?”

“I do, but maybe we can have another small ceremony or something when we get back home.” I squeeze his hand, then shoot him a sassy grin. “Besides, I have another, slightly vindictive reason for wanting to marry ASAP.”

He cocks an eyebrow.

“Julian. He threatened me.”

Ryder’s eyes narrow.

I bump his shoulder with mine. “Don’t worry. I won’t try to solve the problem on my own. But he does want to keep that painting that’s rightfully yours. So I’m going to do everything in my power to spite him. I might even set your siblings up with potential spouses.” I’m not a big fan of Ryder’s father. I’m not going to let him win. No way.

“Getting Grandpa’s portrait is going to be great, no doubt, but having you is worth more.” He kisses me on the forehead. “Even if Julian reneges on giving us the paintings, I’ll still be happy because I have you.”

I flush with pleasure and love. Ryder really says the most romantic things. He should’ve been a screenwriter. He could’ve made a name for himself churning out romance scripts.

In the morning, while it’s still relatively cool, the staff builds a huge arch entwined with gorgeous purple and white tropical orchids. I step outside to admire the setup. The orchids sweeten the ocean air’s tang with a tropical floral fragrance. I’ve never smelled anything so divine.

We’re going to have a sunset ceremony. I go through my suitcase for something appropriate. I don’t think I can do a bikini wedding, even though I saw one on the Internet. I’m still a little more traditional than that.

Thankfully, I somehow remembered to pack a cute strapless white dress. It has a simple sweetheart bodice and a chiffon skirt that reaches my knees. Josephine bought it for our engagement party in case I didn’t feel like wearing the “ribbon on the back” dress. She’s a firm believer of buying two outfits for every event because you never know.

“What if you spill red wine on your first choice?” she asked blithely as she tossed the dress on top of the “buy” pile. “Think about it.”

Even though I’m more pregnant, the clothes still fit me okay, and Peeraya magically produces a pair of white pumps with one and a half inch heels that are not only comfortable but fairy tale princess beautiful with tiny white beads and lace.

“You are awesome,” I tell her, beaming.

“I’m glad you’re happy, madam.” She smiles back.

About two hours before the ceremony, she brings in a basket full of beautiful white flowers whose names I don’t know.

“They are from the garden. Perfect for you.”

Perfect for me? I wonder, but it soon becomes clear as she directs me to sit down in front of a huge vanity. Her talented hands weave the blossoms into my curled hair, one by one, then set them in place with pins. When she’s done, I look like some kind of tropical paradise goddess.

The sun sinks slowly into the ocean, and everything becomes drenched in reddish gold.

The local violinists start “Here comes the bride.”

It’s time.

At the makeshift altar stands a British ex-pat minister who is going to officiate our wedding. Ryder stands by the arch to the left. A classic black tux fits him perfectly, from the powerful V of his lean torso to the strong thighs. The breeze from the Andaman Sea ruffles his hair, and his eyes sparkle like stars.

There are people who want to keep us apart, and I’m not talking about the faceless masses. There’s Julian, who’s going to be furious. And I doubt Mira is going to just go quietly into the sunset.

But none of that matters now, because I’m here with Ryder. We can fight the entire planet together if need be.

I take a step forward to my future.

Happiness and bone-deep contentment rise within me like champagne bubbles. I am exactly where I belong—a Hollywood bride to the love of my life.

——

Thanks for reading A Hollywood Bride! Want to know what happens to Ryder’s incorrigible half-brother Elliot? One click here → An Improper Deal [US :: UK :: Canada :: Australia].

If you want to receive new release information and exclusive sneak peeks, join my VIP List at www.nadialee.net/vip.

 

About An Improper Deal

My life crashed and burned two years ago, and now I’m a stripper—a very bad one. Worse, I’m in debt to a dangerous man who orders me to seduce a billionaire prodigy. Except why would a guy as handsome and rich as Elliot Reed want me, a girl with no education, no prospects, and a younger sister to feed?

But Elliot is more than the incorrigible bad boy that the world sees. He is kind to my sister and looks at me like I’m a decadent dessert he wants to devour. When Elliot offers me money for sex, I wish I could walk away, but he ups the ante: a million dollars for one year of marriage. The man’s gotta be insane, but beggars with less than a hundred bucks in the bank can’t be choosers, and I want to give my sister a life better than my own.

Now, trapped between a man who controls my future and a man who could own my heart, I wonder if I haven’t screwed up my life even worse when my “husband” refuses to call me by my given name, and I run into my ugly past…and his.

Excerpt

Annabelle

“I would like you to marry.”

The announcement makes me start, and I choke on my coffee.

Mr. Grayson pulls a pristine white handkerchief from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and hands it to me. It smells faintly of detergent. I take it and wipe the drink off my chin and shirt. Thankfully my T-shirt is black.

The man is in his mid-thirties, with medium brown hair and brown eyes. He has the kind of average face that any company wanting to advertise an everyman product would use. I’ve never seen him wear anything but a suit, even in Vegas, where we first met, and its oppressive desert heat. Now the outfit makes him stand out in this casual bistro, where everyone else is in T-shirts and shorts.

“I’m only twenty-two,” I tell him. “What’s the rush?”

“You’re twenty-two without an education or career prospects. Being in Los Angeles doesn’t change that.”

His tone is matter-of-fact, but I can’t help stiffening a little. Does he think I chose to be a college dropout or fail to develop real skills? All the opportunities I thought I had—my parents and everything else—have been stolen from me.

“Then why did you bring me to L.A.?” I ask. He didn’t just bring me here. He paid the moving expenses, helped my sister and me get an apartment.

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