Page 11 of Burning for the Billionaire 7

“I totally agree,” Number One says. She’s just as miserable as her bestie Isabelle.

“All of you had better be sticking to your diets,” Isabelle snaps. She turns to Grace, her face twisted into a scowl. “Sister, dear, I know you haven’t, but it’s too late to do anything other than hope you can squeeze into your dress.”

Number Two gasps.

“Babe.” Colton, who was chatting with one of his friends right beside us, turns around. “Relax.”

“Stay out of this, Colton. I want my girls to look perfect for the photos.”

He gives up with a sigh and turns back around.

“Grace, is there any way I can convince you to wear colored contacts?” Isabelle asks. “The whole different-colored-eyes thing might translate a little weird in the pictures.”

“I agree.” Number One nods.

I’m suspecting those are the only words in her vocabulary.

Grace’s eyes go wide. “What?”

I can’t take this shit anymore. “Her body is fucking perfect, every inch of her,” I growl. All eyes are on me now. “And her eyes are gorgeous.”

Isabelle gawks at me, pink highlighting her cheeks. She folds her arms over her chest and harrumphs. “Well, she should at least consider lightening and cutting her hair to match everyone else’s. We have time tomorrow to go to—”

“You’re not touching her hair,” I say with finality.

Grace’s little giggle makes me look at her flushed face.

“It’s a sexual thing with him,” she tells everyone. She sucks in a breath and claps a hand over her mouth, blushing all the way down to her chest. “Did I say that out loud?”

Number Three, who’s always clutching her invisible pearls, does just that and giggles. It sets off a series of laughter from both men and women. Isabelle and Number One are the only ones not amused.

It’s a struggle to keep a straight face when Grace gives me a sheepish grin. I’m tempted to kiss the hell out of her. I’ve said this a hundred times—she’s fucking adorable.

I think I’m in love.

***

“It’s almost time forus to go home,” Grace sings. “Amen.”

I glance up from my phone. “Uh-huh.”

Grace smiles and resumes stuffing things into an overnight bag. She’s spending the night at her parents’ with Isabelle and the other bridesmaids. I’ll be at the hotel alone because I turned down Colton’s invitation to the bachelor party.

Attention back on the screen, I tap out a message to my sister. I’ve been checking in with her regularly, asking about Rebecca’s whereabouts and if she’s heard any media rumblings.

Placing an elbow on the sofa’s armrest, I stroke my chin, eyes glued to the phone as I wait for a response.

“It’ll only be one night, but I’ll miss you,” Grace says.

“I’ll miss you, too,” I mumble, reading Mel’s reply. Rebecca and James have been MIA since I left, but her instruction to relax almost makes me snort out loud. Not possible. I’m not only worried about my own privacy going down the drain now, but Grace’s as well.

Will she leave when the media attention gets to be too much? Trepidation claws its way up my chest. The last time I felt panic like this was when Grace stopped talking to me in her apartment fire and I feared the worse.

“Hey, where’s your head?”

My gaze snaps to her. “Hm?”

She frowns. “Rowan, what’s wrong? And don’t lie to me this time.”

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