Page 42 of The Bad Wedding Date

“You seem to hate anything related to wealth.”

“Only the people who abuse it.”

“Wouldn’t this fall into that category? You can’t pick and choose what offends you just because of who’s behind the offence.”

I let my eyes roam over the room. “Fair point. Maybe I will hate you after all.”

The pure cream carpet felt luxurious beneath my bare feet, and the sound of silence filled the air, making me close my eyes for just a moment to take a breath. I’d drunk enough to be fuzzy around the edges, and I desperately wanted a clear head as well as a clean body. The stickiness of the drink had started to make me itch.

“You can use the bathroom if you want to clean up,” Fraser said, tossing his key card onto the sideboard beside him before he dipped his head and walked past me and into his bedroom. My body swung in his direction, eyes following his every move. It was impossible not to go where he led. Everything about him dominated and commanded my attention, and the magnitude of that wasn’t lost on me.

He stepped over to his open wardrobe and flicked through a string of white shirts hung up. His hands went to the top button of the one he wore, and he slowly began to unfasten them, keeping his gaze in front of him.

The lump in my throat ached, forcing me to swallow when he flung both edges of the shirt open and began to let it slide down his arms, revealing the most masculine, defined torso, shoulders, arms, and stomach I had ever seen in my twenty-four years of life. Fraser was pure strength wrapped up in tanned, inked skin. A design from the greatest artist the gods had ever had work for them.

My breath hitched, and I felt a lust so strong, it drained my face of blood and made it all rush between my legs. I’d never had such a visceral reaction to anyone before. My eyes drifted down to his narrow waist, and I envied the way his belt got to hug him there when all I wanted to do was throw my arms around him and cling to his body.

I needed to sober up.

Fraser was halfway through pulling a clean, crisp white shirt on and fastening up the buttons when I forced myself to look away. I focused on the river view outside of his window, and I watched The London Eye staring back at me proudly, daring me to make the first move of the rest of my life.

No way, Eye. I can’t pounce on a guy who clearly thinks I’m emotionally unstable.

Fraser strode back into the room, rolling his white sleeves up to the elbow again when I turned around to take him in.

“We should hurry,” he said. “You can’t make a comeback if there’s no one left in the room to see it.”

I dropped my purse down onto the coffee table, and I stalked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Even this space oozed opulence. The bathtub was big enough to house four people, and there wasn’t a spec of Premier Inn dust lying around on any of the surfaces.

I could hear Fraser speaking on the phone beyond the walls, and it weirded me out just how reassuring it felt to have him close by. I got to work on my hair, pushing the stray strands back and tucking them in place. My face was splashed, removing way too much makeup, and then I wiped under my eyes to remove the black excess that had run during my meltdown. The dress was all I had, so I made do, wiping that down as much as I could before trying to dry it off with a clean, white towel. The residue wouldn’t come off entirely, but I managed to make it a weak tea-like colour rather than the dark, dirty brown and black tones that had been there.

A knock on the door made me look up.

“Open up,” Fraser ordered.

I did as he asked, opening it enough to peek through. His eyes roamed over my face like he was seeing it for the first time.

“You’re a size ten, right?”

“Eight to ten. Why?”

He pulled his arm out from behind his back to reveal a beautiful dress hanging from a purple velvet hanger. It was a black, knee-length halter neck with a big bow behind the neck. A detailed silver trim ran around the waistline, and the edge of the skirt flared out just enough to allow a girl to dance.

“Will this do?” he asked.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Will itdo?”

The door fell out of my hands, and I stood in front of Fraser, desperate to take the dress from him. I ran my hands over the material, knowing it wasn’t something I’d typically choose, unable to deny its appeal, nonetheless.

“It’s stunning.”

“Good. You’ve got five minutes to change. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

12

Fraser

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