15. The Rex Cure
THE REX CURE
CHELSEA
“So, Chelsea, what an exciting day, picking your gown from a couture designer. Do you ever feel lucky to be marrying into the Buchanan family?” India started my interview at Kleinenfelds after Maisy, Sophie, Mom, and Agnes left with Miriam for tea at a local bistro. I’d meet up with them after.
“Absolutely. I pinch myself sometimes, thinking how I got so lucky to fall in love with Rex.” My lips almost hurt, smiling so widely.
“It is quite the rags to riches story, almost like a fairy tale. A deli manager falls for the billionaire.”
“I wouldn’t call it that, but I suppose to outsiders it may seem like it.”
“Rex had plans to demolish your deli. How convenient to make him fall in love with you instead?”
I flinched at her words, making it sound like I had ulterior motives. “His plans weren’t shared with me until much later, after I’d already fallen for him.”
She cackled at my answer with one of her maniacal-like sounds. I didn’t appreciate the way this interview started at all. Thank goodness this wasn’t live and could be edited later.
“Wouldn’t you agree, marrying someone with such money and influence has its perks?” She asked, but I didn’t like her tone one bit. “Like gaining this appointment at Kleinenfelds, one of today’s hottest bridal couture designers, who, from my understanding, is booked solid two years out.”
“Well, thankfully, my future mother-in-law knows Mr. Kleinenfelds personally?—”
“And even your job with NYBC’s Morning City Show came because of the Buchanan influence, correct?”
What the hell was she doing? The light and fun interview about a bride preparing for her wedding day suddenly turned dark, as if my life, my choices, and my actions were all put under the microscope of her scrutiny.
“He simply suggested my name to the producer,” I explained. “I still had to undergo a rigorous interview process.”
“Well, if you say so?—”
“Cut. Stop the cameras.” I stood abruptly and waited for the crew to stop rolling, yanking off my microphone.
“Where do you think you’re going?” She hissed, following me to the dressing room.
“These types of questions are out of line, India. I won’t sit here and be judged by you or anyone else.” I reached for my coat.
“You can’t leave. It’ll be a breach of contract. I’ll have you fired if you do.” Her threats had me spinning on my heel. What would I do without this job that I’d come to love so much? Would the small notoriety I’d gained help me get my foot in the door at another station, or maybe Rex would put up the money for me to start a new bistro in the city?
Oh God. She was right. I would use Rex’s influence and money to get ahead. No. This wasn’t me—I worked my ass off for everything I had, and would do so again if I had to start anew. I refused to be bullied by her.
I stood my ground. “And leave the viewers hanging? Half of our episodes have already aired. The station’s ratings are at an all-time high. The station manager wouldn’t allow you to fire me. Besides, if this show fails, your name is tied to it, and it’s as much on you as it is on me.”
“Well. It appears we understand each other quite well, then,” she sneered. “So we’d better get back to the cameras and finish this interview, don’t you agree?”
“Fine, but stick to the questions about gowns.” I gave in, but the alternative was to fight in court with the TV station over my breach of contract. “That’s what we’re here for, right?”
“Absolutely. I’m sure the viewers want to hear all about how many feet long your train will be.” Her response wreaked of sarcasm, but we got back to it, two professional women in TV focusing only on the gowns until the interview was over.
I stuck around a little longer after India and the crew left. Something about her had me wary, like I needed to be watching her every move and watching my back.
My breath caught while viewing my gown still hanging in the dressing room, so beautiful, unaware of the complications India put into my head. The earlier joy rushed back into my soul, fighting for space, kicking out the ickiness left there by her.
As I fingered the crystals down the front of the gown, I took in several deep breaths, imagining the wedding day. Would it be as perfect as my mind could see it? I held on to every hope it’d be beautiful, meaningful, and happy for us. I just needed to hang in there, and get through these remaining months.
When I walked into the apartment an hour later, Rex was waiting for me, surprising me with a candlelight dinner he’d prepared.
“Sweetness! Hi—oh, your face. Bad day?” He removed my coat, and I immediately reached for the glass of merlot on the table, downing the entire thing in a few gulps. Then I reached for the bottle.
“Whoa. What’s wrong?” He took the items from my hands, set them down, and circled my waist. My forearms rested on his pecs and I gazed up into his eyes, where many times before I’d sought solace after a hectic day.
A debate raged in my head. Should I tell him about India, about my worries over my job? If I did, he’d only want to fix my problems. I snorted, knowing he’d probably use his influence to have her fired or something.
“Nothing time with my man can’t cure,” was all I said.
What I needed was a distraction from it all, the sexy kind. I ran my hands up around his neck and pulled him down to me. The connection of our lips sparked my mood, sending electric currents zinging through my body, leaving me craving more than a good meal.
“Can the food wait?” I asked, and stepped back a few feet, sliding my dress off, revealing a white sheer lace halter bodysuit and thigh-high stockings I’d purchased at Kleinenfelds before I left. “Just a little preview of what you can expect on our wedding night.”
His head cocked, tongue traced his bottom lip, and eyes traced my figure. “Thank fuck for microwaves.”
I reveled in his entire response. He stalked forward, lifting me up and growled, carrying me off to the bedroom like I was the ultimate prize he’d won in life. “Let me give you a sneak peek as well.”
I chuckled, and he splayed me out on the mattress, kissing up my thighs, up my torso, devouring my lips, then headed back down, but I stopped him.
“I need your cock inside of me, connecting with me. Please, Rex,” I whispered, trailing my hand between us, finding him hard. He ground into my hand, searching my face.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
“I will be once you’re inside of me.” My fingers deftly undid his belt. He took over undoing the rest, freeing his shaft, and pushing aside the lace that remained between us. His head notched at my opening, and he pushed in, sliding past my barriers, rocking into my core.
“Damn, you’re wet and ready for me. Whatever happened today, you’re with me now. This is all that matters, sweetness.”
My body shifted under him, molding myself to him, as I matched him move for move. Every thrust of our hips together shoved away India’s questions, proving our intimacy. We were more than anything superficial she implied.
“I love you.” The words I spoke in time with our rhythm could never say enough the depth of my feelings for this man.
“I love you, too. Now relax. Let me shoulder your burdens and make you feel so fucking good,” he ended on a growl, pulsing inside of me.
This between us was everything. The exact medicine I needed to chase the day away. The special Rex cure for every worry that ailed me.