11
Bonnie
What the hell is wrong with me?
Jack Knight-triggered oxytocin has been pumping through my body all night , leaving me a hot mess. And that’s with a stuffed moose head watching me.
The guy looks, smells and dances like sex. I didn’t stand a freakin’ chance. After the dance, a million women fangirled him all night, Max being the ringleader.
That dance. Holy fucking shit.
He was hard.
The guy practically humped my silk bridesmaid dress on the lawn . . . and I let him.
I can’t figure out if I’m happy that I had the chance to knock Mr. Big Dick down a peg or two, or because the possibility of angry sex might be on the cards—not that I would ever go there.
But it’s a fantasy for the Bean Bag.
Besides, Max encouraged me to network. I’m only doing what I’m told.
The breakfast room is the stereotypical aftermath of a British wedding, everyone that looked fabulous last night looks slightly worse for wear today.
Tans are patchy, makeup is still half on, eyes are reduced to slits, rogue pins are sticking out of slept-in updos, and there is a general demeanour of dehydration.
Voices that were roaring last night dull to an idle murmur as they mull over the breakfast buffet, trying to decide whether it’ll make them feel better or worse.
Nisha mumbles incoherently beside me. I banged down her door this morning to get her out of bed.
“Huh?” I ask, distracted, scanning the room for six-foot-something monsters with topknots and ten tons of muscle.
“I feel horrid.” Nisha groans. “I can’t look at that fry-up. Why did you let me drink so much last night?”
“Last time I checked the bridesmaid manual, it didn’t mention keeping guests from overindulging.”
He’s not here. I don’t know whether I’m relieved or disappointed.
“I’m not drinking ever again,” she says firmly as we meander around the buffet. “Okay, at least until Christmas.” She looks at me crossly. “I mean it this time.”
“I’m not doubting you.”
She lifts a lid, sees it’s black pudding and makes a retching sound, closing it quickly. “Why are you so cheery this morning? Aren’t you tired?”
“I’m exhausted,” I mutter. “Go get us a seat, Nisha. I’m going to pop to the loo.”
She sighs and moves towards empty seats.
“Not there,” I hiss as Nisha veers towards Kate’s creepy uncle, Dom.
I turn towards the main hallway where the bathrooms are, after giving the room a final once-over.
Maybe Jack’s left already. He mentioned he’s getting a lift in Tristan Kane’s helicopter. Talk about upstaging the bride, who arrives in a friggin’ chopper?
“The other bridesmaid is a bit of alright, isn’t she? That Bunny.”
What?
I freeze, trying to connect the bodiless voice to a face from last night.
Me?
“What’s going on between you two?” the same male voice around the corner asks.
A knot of anxiety tightens in my belly.
The guy I can’t identify must be talking to Max about me. Why does eavesdropping on Max talking about our relationship freak me out after all these months? Maybe I don’t want to hear from the horse’s mouth how well he’s coping without me.
I lean against the wall and take out my phone to pretend to read.
“Absolutely nothing, mate.”
My head jerks at the sound of the low gravelly cockney voice.
Jack.
Someone is asking Jack about me?
There’s a pause. “You two looked a little cosy.”
“Nope.” Jack’s tone makes my stomach lurch. Cold as ice. All the warmth he had last night is gone. “Definitely nothing of interest going on there.”
The other guy chuckles. “I guess Michelle Allard is more your type, lucky bastard.”
Another pause, and my pulse quickens.
“Michelle Allard is everyone’s type,” Jack says dryly.
My cheeks flame with heat. Wanker.
Obviously, I agree, but hearing it from his mouth crushes me more than it should. I shouldn’t even care.
“She hasn’t got a set of pipes on her like Michelle, but Bunny polishes up good enough.”
I tug at my bra strap, annoyed. Who is this guy?
“Careful,” Jack says, his voice more strained. “Watch your manners. Bonnie is . . . a friend of Sean and Kate’s.”
Huh. I’m only mildly appeased. It’s not exactly a knight-in-shining-armour response.
“Mind if I get her number?”
Another pause.
“Knock yourself out,” Jack replies in a level tone. “No reason for me to mind.”
“So? Do you have it?”
More silence.
“Thanks.”
Thanks? THANKS?
He did not give some random guy my number.
My chest tightens as I back away from the corner. So, Michelle Allard is more his type?
Him and his big dick and his darlins.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Bonnie, says the annoying voice of reason in my head. Billionaires get more attention than babies and bunnies. I witnessed that myself last night. What did you expect?
Father Donaghy would say this is karma for disrespecting his God’s house yesterday.
I can’t believe I even entertained for a tiny slither of a moment the notion of maybe, just maybe, sharing some food with Jack Knight for an hour. A ll for networking purposes, of course.
I’ve been a fool, but I’ve learned my lesson.
***
After a ten-minute pep talk in the bathroom to pull myself together, I make my way back to the breakfast area.
Kate waves me over.
I’m irrationally annoyed. It’s probably the champagne after-effects and the low you get after hitting it too hard, that’s all.
“Hi, Mrs. Knight .” I beam at Kate as she pulls me in for a massive hug.
“Mrs. Knight,” she repeats, squealing. “Mrs. Knight! Jesus, I’ll look around for Sean’s mum every time someone calls me that. Thank you for yesterday, honey. You were on your feet all day. I think you must have taken me to the bathroom five times last night.”
“Don ’ t worry. I hope you enjoyed your day?”
She thinks about it. “You know, I really did in the end. I mean, I wouldn’t rush out to do it again and I’m really glad it’s over, but waking up beside my husband this morning .
. .” Her grin fades and she squeezes my arm.
“I’m sorry, Bonnie. Are you okay? I know you put on a brave face but it’s such a hard thing to go through given the circumstances. ”
Huh. This is the first time I’m upset about something other than my split in months.
All thanks to Mr. Big Dick. Maybe he did me and my not-as-good-as-Michelle-Allard-pipes a favour.
“I had a brilliant time.” I smile. “Kate, do you mind if we head off? Nisha’s in a bad way. Also, Bradshaw is doing an important piece of work for Lexington, so I should get at it today, or the week will be a nightmare.” And I need to get the hell out of here before the Lexington CEO appears.
“Speak of the devil.” She grins over my shoulder. “Jack, you bad man. Is your company working Bonnie too hard?”
I turn, horror rising slowly, to see Jack and Michelle Allard behind me.
Jack is back in casual clothes but still looks as deadly as in the tux, if a little more tired in a grey tee and jeans.
Michelle grips his forearm possessively, looking bored. He stiffens but doesn’t remove her arm.
Unlike the rest of us, her skin glows as if an invisible team of lighting technicians is following her around, illuminating her with soft white light.
“Morning.” Jack turns his attention to me. His dark eyes burn a trail up my body. “What’s this about?”
“Bonnie’s gruelling deadline for Lexington,” Kate pipes up, poking Jack’s abs.
If only I had duct tape handy.
His brows rise.
“Kate’s only joking,” I hiss, telepathically telling her to shut the fuck up. Max will bloody well flip if he hears about this.
Michelle looks at me suspiciously as her arm tightens around Jack’s. “I know you. The other bridesmaid. From the lawn.”
I look between Jack and Michelle. He shifts his hand into his back pocket, forcing her arm to drop.
Not a date, my arse. Michelle is clinging to his side like a bodyguard.
“That’s me. The other bridesmaid,” I reply stiffly.
“This is Bonnie, Michelle,” Jack corrects her.
Michelle and I never really spoke last night, so there’s no need for awkward hugging. “Lovely to meet you, Michelle.”
I give Kate a quick hug and then turn to Jack and Michelle.
“Jack.” I pull my lips back from my teeth in an attempt to smile. “I look forward to working on the Motor Works factory for Lexington.”
Before he can respond, I turn on my heels and grab Nisha.
“Aren’t you going to have any breakfast?” she asks, as I march us out the door.
“Nope. Not hungry.”
“I know I wanted us to leave quickly, but slow down a bit,” she grumbles as I jog towards the car, dragging her along as if we’ve stolen half the castle’s valuables. “Hey, when you were talking to Kate in the breakfast room, I saw the tech tycoon Danny Walker eying you up. I repeat Danny Walker .”
“What?” I scoff. “Isn’t he with the hotshot lawyer Tristan Kane’s sister? Wise up, Nisha.”
“I mean it, he looked interested. He kept looking over.” She pants, trying to meet my stride. “Hold up, woman. I’m not training for a marathon, and I had a skinful last night.”
I slow down a fraction. “They have young kids.”
“These rich guys have their baby mamas and women on the side. I didn’t say you should go there.”
The car beeps open as I point the key fob at it. Heavy footsteps churn the gravel behind us.
Oh, shit.
Just as I pull the car door open an inch, a hand covers mine and a deep voice says, “Wait.”
I tilt my head over my shoulder, my pulse quickening. My back is against the chest of the guy I’m running from.
Jack leans forward, his breath hot on the nape of my neck. “Somebody’s eager to get away. Where’s the fire?”
His hand is still on mine, caging me between the car and him. I’ve never seen Nisha move so quickly as she leaps into the passenger’s seat.
I turn to face Jack, backing towards the car. “I want to beat the traffic,” I reply in a level tone.
“It feels like you’re running away from something.” He towers over me, cocky grin in place. “I’ll see you for dinner this week. Does Tuesday work?”