Page 29 of Resisting the Billionaire

Gabriel

Iopen the door of Bewitching Bridal for Mackenzie, the shop going quiet as the few women in there spot me. I guess they don’t get many guys in here.

“Darling, it’s good to see you,” a middle-aged woman with a short, blonde bob greets her, giving her air kisses I’m not sure are French or just pretentious. “This is your groom?” She gives me a once over, not in a leering way, but like she’s taking my measurements visually. “We have a few suits that will look exquisite on him.”

Well, then. I’ve never been one to turn down looking exquisite.

“Thank you, Louise. Yes, this is Gabriel.”

We’re handed glasses of champagne as we’re led around a corner to a private area where a few tuxedos are on display, along with vests, cummerbunds, and ties. Mackenzie better not expect me to wear a cummerbund. It’s not happening.

Suit fittings are familiar territory for me, but there’s still something different about picking out your wedding attire.

“And do you have anything in particular in mind for him?” Louise asks, pausing by a drawer of button-down shirts. “What’s the bride’s dress like?”

“Undecided still. But the wedding colors are blue and silver, so I’m leaning toward a navy tux.”

“Yes,” she says, studying me. “That’ll do nicely. Let me get a few options from the back.”

“Is she going to speak directly to me at all?” I ask Mackenzie as the woman exits the room.

“Sorry. She’s used to brides coming in and making all the decisions. Most guys are mentally checked out attending these kinds of things.”

“Well, you can’t have two of us who don’t care.”

She sighs, walking over to the vests, pulling out a dark silver one, then deciding against it. “I’ve never met a bride like her, that’s for sure.”

As often as I’m annoyed with Serena for not caring, it’s not like I can really blame her. I’m not thrilled about this marriage either. And honestly, if it was anyone besides Mackenzie planning this wedding, would I be as invested?

“Here we go,” Louise announces, breezing into the room with three suits. “Curtain is there,” she points to the corner, “and Mackenzie knows where everything is. I’ll be up front when you’ve made your decision.”

I knock back the last of the champagne, setting the glass down. “You’re here often?”

“I have kind of the same deal with her I have with Diana. I send business her way and she sends it mine. It’s the only way you survive in this industry.”

“And the baker we’re seeing after this?”

“Another contact,” she admits, sipping from her glass. “But I would never recommend a vendor that I didn’t have absolute faith in. And since you two had no suggestions-”

“Relax. I’m not calling you out. Now which one should I try on first?”

She studies the suits, glancing back occasionally between them and me. I’m conscious of her eyes on me, liking the way they rake me up and down, different from how Louise did it. Yes, Mackenzie’s professional, but there’s something more in her gaze. Appreciation. Regard. Maybe the tiniest bit of… longing?

Or am I just seeing what I want to see?

“I think this is our best bet,” she declares, handing one to me. “A crisp, white dress shirt underneath will accentuate your tan, and this shade of navy brings out the blue in your eyes.” She finds a shirt in my size and ushers me behind the curtain.

I hang the suit on the hook and remove my shirt, eyeing the jacket she picked out. Two button front, satin lapels, side vents… it looks close to a few I already have at home. But I wouldn’t want any of those tainted by what this one is intended for. I’ll probably burn it afterward.

“So the others aren’t contenders?” I call out, slipping on the dress shirt.

“Oh, they are. You’d look good in anything.”

I’m glad she can’t see my shit-eating grin. “I would?”

There’s quiet muttering, then, “You know what I mean.”

“Hmm, don’t think I do. Please explain it to me.”

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