10 JANIE #2
“That one,” Benedict says to the fancy little man behind the counter.
I move to see just as he turns to show me.
I gasp. It’s a huge turquoise oval stone with diamonds on either side of it.
The way it’s sparkling must mean the band has tiny diamonds too.
“No huge flawless diamond, no huge price tag.” He says but again he sounds unsure of himself. I look up.
“No huge price tag?” I ask, meaning to sound snarky. I’m sure it’s still massively expensive. But my voice comes out breathy instead.
He looks down and slides the ring on my hand.
He clears his throat, “Teal, right? It suits you.” It takes me a second to register what he just said. I mentioned teal was my favorite color when we did our drunken twenty questions. I guess he was paying attention.
“There’s teal,” I say, looking down at my hand, “and then there’s this.”
“Oh. Bollocks. I thought I’d found a winner,” Benedict moves to take it off, and without thinking I stop him. Which makes the man break into possibly the biggest smile Sin City has ever seen. “It is a winner.”
“No, I—”
“We’ll take this!” He says to the clerk, purposefully cutting me off. I try to say his name but he grabs both my elbows. “One giant ring, plus the matching necklace and earrings and I won’t stage a grand, public proposal in the middle of the strip.”
My eyes bulge at the thought. “You wouldn’t.”
“I won’t if you take my gifts.”
“Fine, can we go now? This place is making me itchy.”
He chuckles, “Better buy yourself some calamine lotion to make it through next year, then, love.”
I shake my head and exit through the front door, instantly relaxing in the bright sunshine and lingering heat.
I lean back against the front wall of the building, close my eyes and breathe.
Before I can fully calm my heart rate I hear Benedict come out.
I get moving toward the limo that’s already waiting for us, because of course it is.
Once the driver tucks us both in the back and Nigel climbs in the front seat, Benedict studies me.
“Only one more quick stop.” I raise my eyebrows at him.
He goes on with a smile, “That jumpsuit thing fits you like a glove, and a sexy one at that, but you do wear other things, yeah? I don’t think you should get married in all black. ”
I squirm in my seat as a blush meets my cheeks.
It’s weird how he just says compliments so plainly, like he’s observing the weather.
I’ve worn this same work romper every day.
I tried different tops with it but I guess I should have expected him to notice.
“I wasn’t planning on being seen so I didn’t pack much.
Mayo suit, remember? And I am not wearing a long, poofy, designer wedding dress. ”
His eyes do the sparkly thing, “Oh, I’d much prefer a short, tight dress if I get a say.”
“Well, you’re buying,” I mutter.
“Come now, you like fashion, I know you do.” I glance up and meet his eyes. How does he know that? “You can wear whatever you like but I think, for appearances’ sake, it should be white.”
“Okay.”
“And expensive.”
I start to argue, but realize that that’s going to get old fast. This is his world and I’m going to have to live in it. I just look out the window.
We stop at a designer wedding boutique that is somehow totally Vegas but not cheesy. I keep my mouth shut. I don’t look at price tags. I use all of my self control to not throw my eyes up at the ceiling a million times. I am going to have to roll with his punches if this is going to work.
To my surprise, he immediately tells the clerk when we walk in, “Nothing long or poofy.”
“Of course, Mr. Clark.” I force myself not to groan about the fact that she knows who he is.
“I’m Leanne and I’m sure I can find something,” the chic, older woman replies.
She directs the next question to me, not my famous, rich fiancé, which I appreciate.
“Short, then? What about ruffles? Lace? Sparkle? F—”
“No feathers!” I shudder. “I…” I actually look around and take in the beautiful pieces. Whatever these dresses cost, they’re worth every penny. “I don’t hate lace or ruffles. I like some drama but no, no sparkles or feathers, please.”
“Of course, make yourselves comfortable and I’ll pull some options.”
“Champagne?” Benedict asks as we walk into the small dressing area with a pedestal and a million mirrors.
“Hell, yes,” I say. Something passes over his handsome face for a beat but it’s gone with a chuckle. He pours us both a very full flute.
“H-how did you know I like fashion?” I ponder out loud as I stare after the shopkeeper.
“Um, because I have eyes?” I lock gazes with him.
“You do remember I have been there, too? At the Canton weddings, the parties, and I think even a couple charity galas Skye dragged you to. You always wear black but everything you wear is, you know, cool. Cooler than everyone else. Yet another reason I didn’t bother trying to impress you. ”
I narrow my eyes at him, “You almost had me going there.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not for a second. Sam must’ve told you about my tastes. There’s no way you were paying that much attention to me. And, I still say if you’d wanted to flirt with me, you would have.”
“And waste all this charm on someone who wouldn’t appreciate it? Who would say, what’s the word you keep using?” He makes a face, “Ew.”
“Kind of like the face you made when you got stuck with me on sightseeing day of the wedding,” I mutter.
“When we shared a buggy?”
“We call them mopeds.”
He leans in and his voice changes, going low and gritty as he asks, “You think I didn’t enjoy having your curves wrapped around me all afternoon? You think I didn’t drive faster just so you would hold on tighter?”
He is suddenly very close to me and smells very good and I…am I panting?
“Y-you…you spent all your time making g-googly eyes at Skye’s sister,” I stammer, affected by his hooded eyes and whatever sex voice just slipped out of his perfect mouth.
He leans back and chuckles, “That was to piss off Shep Riggs. Wanker.”
I laugh too, “Okay, fair. He is a bit of a wanker.”
Skye’s older sister, Sadie, married her long lost love, a college football star turned ESPN announcer. He’s hot and cocky and absolutely comes across as a total douche canoe until you get to know him. I don’t think anyone makes more fun of him than he makes of himself, though.
We laugh off whatever was just happening, but I see Benedict’s light dim a bit as I look away awkwardly. It’s not that I can’t appreciate his charm. I’m out on all charm, period. It’s not personal.
But Leanne is back, saving us from the sexual tension turned awkward tension.
“Let’s start with these,” she says as she takes nine dresses into a curtained dressing room.
“I’ve included a few undergarments for these as well, just in case.
” I’m about to ask about how she knows my sizes but stop myself.
Again, this is Billionaire World. She must get annual-salary-sized-commissions. It’s her job to spot sizes on sight.
“Th-thanks,” I reply as I head into the little cubicle.
“Do let me know if you need any help, darling!” Benedict teases.
But I don’t need help, because Leanne is scary-good at her job.
The dresses are cute and flirty and fun until the sixth one.
It’s…amazing. It’s above the knee, layered chiffon, with some curl and body to it.
It’s off the shoulders and pulls in my waist, with playful ruffles that flow across my arms and chest. It feels like butter and looks like a cloud.
But classy. I’m not petite and I’ve learned to be fine with that.
But this dress makes me feel…light. Airy. I love it.
“You alright?” Ben finally says when he notices the stepping and the zipping, unzipping, shifting and grunting have finally stopped.
“Y-yeah,” I say, stepping out.
He stands when he sees me, a jerky involuntary motion that almost makes me laugh.
“Better than all right,” he says, “Damn it, I…you….I need a tux now.”
I turn and look at him and realize he’s changed from his crisp white shirt and slacks to a black suit and tie.
“What’s wrong with that suit?”
“Leanne,” he calls, ignoring me. “Look at her. Just look.”
She puts her hand to her chest and gasps when she sees me.
Laying it on a little thick, Leanne.
“Right,” Benedict says. “Now look at me.”
“Ah, you’ll need a tuxedo,” She says.
“Precisely. Can’t wear this drab old thing.”
I almost laugh, “I can see the price tags still on it!”
“It’s rubbish now.”
I will my cheeks not to blush as I joke, “Is this all that charm you were talking about?”
“Is it working?” he smirks.
“No,” I say, but I’m fighting a smile and he knows it.
“Yes, well, can’t bloody well charm a goddess, can I?” he gestures up and down at my dress. “Just have to pray she’s merciful.”
“Please shut up.”
“Never.”
I roll my eyes but I let the smile take over my whole face. Again with the compliments, given so easily and genuinely. I get the feeling he has no filter because he doesn’t need one. He’s just genuinely rooting for everyone around him. Weirdo. I don’t hate it, though.
And this dress does give off some goddess energy. My smile carries on as I hear him muttering under his breath about buying a new tux. And stays firmly in place while I pull my hair into a low bun and add a fabric flower clip Leanne suggests.
“Can we have the showroom, please?” I hear my billionaire boss ask.
My smile finally withers when I look at him.