48. Emily
EMILY
Ididn’t want to come to bed last night. But my back reminded me I’m not in high school anymore, wedges and cushions be damned.
There was no way I was leaving until . .
. my guys did. Oliver kissed his sister’s belly and whispered to the future monarch to remember to be a hellion, and a minute later he was asleep.
His sister petting his hair didn’t make me jealous—at least, that’s the hill I’m dying on.
When Elena inched closer to Anders, he stood up and refilled everyone’s candy bowls, then settled himself at the back of the room.
It was only after that I relaxed. Did I see the end of the second movie? No, but I heard it.
I swing my arm to the other side of the bed to gauge how long Thayer’s been gone. He wasn’t in bed when I crawled in around one a.m.
"Ow," he mutters. No lukewarm sheets; rather, there’s a firm body beneath my hand.
A firm body wearing a T-shirt. Thayer doesn’t sleep in a T-shirt. I crack my eyes open and push up. It’s him. In a white T-shirt. A mostly white T-shirt. In the middle of it is my freshman yearbook picture. My deep side part and bangs that covered my eyebrows. How did I think that looked good?
"What in the world is on your chest?" I ask.
"The shirts they made for your hen party."
"I didn’t . . . You didn’t come up."
"No, I didn’t. We were supposed to crash after the first movie. But when the lights went out and the guys went up, I had wedding things to take care of."
I blink at him, waiting for him to tell me more.
"You really want to know?"
"Sure, yeah."
"Esmeralda is doing the catering. But she had to order a lot of things ahead of time, which means there’s a trio of fridges and an extra freezer in the garden shed.
They tripped the breaker for the whole house generator, and when it didn’t come on, I had to run around and find power to keep the food from spoiling.
" He lifts his head from the pillow and drops it back again.
"You’re tired." I have a strong urge to pet him and soothe him to sleep. Instead, I shake it off and drop my feet to the ground. The other day when I was making the orgasm noises, I couldn’t look at Thayer.
And my acting days left me vacant. Now I want to make a whole lot of real noises.
It’s really sweet how he’s taken on the entire wedding.
Not sweet. "How’s untangling the whole web going? "
He knows I mean James. His eyes close and open, the fog lifted from them. "Actually really well. I’ve gotten a bunch of leads. It was what I was working on after the power issue last night. I’m getting closer."
"I really want to help."
"I know you do. Maybe after the wedding."
I pull on my robe and tighten the belt. I’m more secure with my armor in place. I’m really kind of missing my multiple grandma nighties right now. "Okay."
"I do have a wedding question for you."
I nod.
"Do you want to go to the Maldives or Greece for the honeymoon?"
"A honeymoon?" I sink into the leather chair by the wall. "I didn’t think . . . Is that really necessary? Won’t it slow down your investigation?"
He sighs. "Yes, but James in his nine thousand marriages always droned on about how it’s important to take the new wife—his words—on a big trip. I know he won’t leave us alone if we don’t do something."
"Tell him I can’t travel because of the baby."
"And have him think there’s something wrong with the baby?"
My face twists up. "That would be bad."
"Worse than bad."
"How about some place closer? Wales? North London? The East End? We could tell him I love that old show."
Thayer laughs.
"The Maldives are farther away, so?"
"And your friends?"
"What about my friends?" I stand, raising my chin to him.
"Are your friends coming on our honeymoon?"
"I . . . yes? Can they?"
Thayer shrugs. "It would be hard to explain anyone but Whitehall coming with us. But sure, we can make it work."
"You want them to come?"
"It’s not about what I want, Emily."
"No, it’s not. They’ll come." I stare at him, trying to pick up any sign of emotion from him. When there isn’t any, I let out my breath. I want them there, but I also want him not to want them to be there. I’m messed up. So messed up. "Good." I pivot and make my way to the bathroom.
One day closer to the wedding. And Oliver woke me up early. "Where are we going? I thought I was on house lockdown?" It’s weird sneaking out of the house so early. Equally weird that Thayer was already gone. And that I didn’t see Ryder.
"You are, but I’ve gotten special dispensation from the head prat himself.”
"So where are we going?" The old Emily, the one who doesn’t like surprises, is rearing her head.
"Nothing to worry about. Shopping," Oliver says.
"Shopping?"
"Trust me, this kind of shopping will be fun, even for you."
I run my finger over the edge of my firefly necklace and hope he’s right.
The SUV pulls into a private garage of a brownstone house on the outskirts of London.
A valet opens the door instead of Holloway. "Ms. Rockwell," he says, inclining his head to me.
"Thank you." I step out into a garage. When Oliver joins me, the valet opens a door on the far side.
"End of the hall, last door on the right."
Oliver tips him. My heels click as we head down the hallway.
"Does anyone else know where we are?" I ask before Oliver opens the door.
"Are you scared, Em? Nothing to be scared about."
The small hairs on the back of my neck vibrate.
I don’t know what I expected when he opened the door, but a room full of dark walnut cabinets with elegantly displayed lingerie hanging from each case wasn’t it.
But him telling me to wear the shoes I plan to wear with my wedding dress makes a lot more sense now.
My eyes skirt from display to display. And my heart’s ramping up.
I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. It’s a store.
Not a sex club. A very discreet store in the middle of a posh neighborhood.
"Prince Whitehall, Ms. Rockwell. I’m Vivian. It’s my pleasure to have you in my shop."
"Thank you for fitting us in," Oliver says.
"Of course. We’re this way." She leads us through a series of windowless corridors and ushers us into a private room. There’s a round stand in the middle with a soft pink velvet sofa opposite it. Along the walls there are empty mahogany display closets.
"Lovely, Vivian." Oliver pulls a black device from his pocket, the size of a remote. I’ve seen Holloway sweeping Havenwood Hall daily with a similar one. "You don’t mind?"
"Of course not. Your privacy is our responsibility and our reputation. But I understand. We sent our NDA yesterday afternoon to your contact."
"Thank you." Oliver inclines his head to Vivian.
"Aurora will be in to confirm your measurements, Ms. Rockwell.
" She gestures to a panel on the wall. "If you need assistance, press here.
If the white light comes on, we are requesting entry into your suite.
Press here. We won't come in if you don't. Would you like anything specific to eat or drink? "
I shake my head no. This place has swallowed all of my words.
Vivian nods. There's a soft click of the door behind Vivian. I lean into Oliver and whisper, "What the hell are we doing here?"
I've heard about places like this with concierge services that handle crazy requests from people, even ones being crazy divas.
I remember one girl went for a day trip to an exclusive spa in Paris with her mother, and her mother wanted clotted cream they didn't have them.
But someone drove to Brittany to get it.
"What do you think would happen if I asked them to get me stuffed grape leaves?"
"I think we'd need some hummus and pita to go with it, but we'd have lunch. You’re taking ownership of your day.
The rest of the world will see the beautiful dress Lilith and Callie created.
But you'll be the only one who knows what you're wearing underneath it.
Your armor." He smiles, but it's not his normal smile.
This one's crooked, closed-lip, and it sends zaps of electricity through my body.
"I'll wait outside . . . " He pauses at the door.
There's an invisible tether between us, and it lifts my chest toward him. "Wait."
"Em?" He stops, one hand on the door.
"You should stay. I'd like your opinion, if you want to."
There's a drumming in my ears. I've done things with Oliver, but somehow me asking him to stay feels even more important. A new chapter.
"You're sure?" His voice pours over me, rich, deep, and smooth.
"Yes, please."
"Fuck." His eyes scan me, and my skin heats. I'm not even in any of the beautiful couture pieces hanging from the padded velvet hangers. I'm in my vintage wrap dress, but the way his eyes pin me makes me feel like I'm walking the runway.
A white light glows above the display case and dims. "Come in," I say.
Oliver hits the button on his way across the room. And Aurora enters as Oliver sits on the pink sofa, ankle over his knee, arm stretched out along the back. He's at ease wherever he is.
"Ready?" Aurora smiles at me, her back to Oliver. She doesn't even acknowledge he's in the room. It's odd. That's one of the things I've gotten used to. When someone knows who he is, there's a buzz of excitement when he's in the room. But not this salesperson. To her he's invisible.
"Yes."
She blinks at me.
Oliver clears his throat, but Aurora doesn't turn. "Emily, she wants you to take your clothes off."
"Oh, right?" I laugh. "Silly me. Of course.
Right." I’ve taken my clothes off in front of people.
Lots of times. But I'm shaking. "Here I go, taking my clothes off.
" I couldn't be more of a dork if I tried.
I untie my dress and slip it off. Aurora takes it and hangs it on a walnut hanger and places it in an empty display cabinet.
"Tell me about your wedding dress. Will you be wearing one of our items underneath it?"
"I . . . It doesn’t have a built-in corset."
"Something with some structure, then?"
“Yes.”
"And for your honeymoon?" She takes my hip measurements.
My eyes flick past her to Oliver. I haven't brought up Thayer's rationale for taking a honeymoon with any of the guys. I’m momentarily confused as to why she’s asking about a honeymoon.
Then I realize this is about purchasing a full trousseau.
"The Maldives." Oliver doesn't react. Does he know already?
I don't understand everything between him and Thayer.
Would they still have been friends if Thayer hadn't dismissed him?
Aurora takes my measurements but doesn't write a thing down. When she's done and the tape measure is back around her neck, she nods and hands me a silk robe. "Refreshments."
"Please," Oliver says before I can say no.
Aurora hits a button on the wall, and it turns green. "I'll be back soon."
As she leaves, another woman dressed in a light pink pantsuit enters, placing champagne and appetizers on the table beside the sofa.
"Thank you," Oliver says as she leaves.
I grab the champagne and toss it back like a cheap shot at a dive bar.
Oliver's hand lands on my knee. And a wave of calm takes hold of me. Oliver cocks his head at me. "You’re going to be the most beautiful bride to ever exist."
"You shouldn't say things like that to me."
"Why not? It's true."
"Because I'm not your bride. And one day someone else will have that honor and you’ll regret saying it to me."
"I will never regret a word or a moment I've spent with you." Oliver takes my chin in his hand, turning me to his face. Our lips crash together, and I'm the first to pull away, my eyes on the door.
Oliver chuckles as the white light glows above the panel. "I'll get it." He pushes the button.
Five women enter, each holding one hanger in a hand. Aurora leads the parade around the room. In unison, like servers at a Michelin-star restaurant, they place the garments in their individual display cubbies. The four of them parade out with a nod to only me.
Oliver smirks at me. He's loving every second of this.
"Holy . . ." All amounts of cool have left me.
The ten undergarments hanging on the wall vary from practical to how the hell do you put that on.
But all of them have one thing in common: they are the most beautiful things I've ever seen.
From a mid-calf robe with delicate embroidery to bras of cream silk, camisoles with garters, and so much more.
"Where would you like to start?" Aurora asks.
When I can't speak, she takes the robe from the wall. "How about we ease in?"
She takes the one I'm wearing, which in itself is lovely. But the embroidered one? It hugs my curves but then flares out and makes me want to twirl. So I do. "It's pretty."
"I brought in our neutral collection; for the things you like, I’ll show you other colorways, if you’d like."
I nod to her while looking at myself in the mirror. How did I get here?
"Would you like time alone?"
"Uh, no. I'm good."
Aurora nods and gets the next item. Each piece I try on builds on the previous.
More hooks, more lace, and a hell of a lot more straps.
There are two more parades of five new items. I’ve found a lightweight corset for under my wedding gown.
It’s soft, with embroidery, and Oliver was right. This is just for me. Armor for the day.
I suppose I should stop—we’ve got what we came for.
But the corsets and bodysuits they’ve brought in are some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
And we’re here. I might as well. The corset I have on hugs my waist and pushes my breasts up to perfection.
There's two more outfits on the wall, one with buckles and hardware that I don’t understand.
"Would you like some time alone?" Aurora asks again.
I'm about to say I'm good when Oliver drops his foot to the floor and I turn to look at him. Aurora, interestingly enough, is still acting as if Oliver's invisible.
His eyes flick over my skin, and I'm a second away from bursting into flames. "Yes, please."
Aurora glances back at me.
“Yes, please,” I mimic Oliver.
The click of the door is so soft I can barely hear it.
Oliver stands; we move towards each other at a slow, steady pace. "Do you like this one?"
"Fuck, Em. I need to peel that off you with my teeth."
"We'll have to buy it, then."
"I'm buying all of them. In every color of the rainbow."
"That's a lot," I say, my lips a millimeter away from his ear.
"And it still won't be enough,” he growls.