Page 107 of The Reluctant Billionaire

I don’t count myself as soppy at all, but there’s something about the two of them that moves even me. It’s probably because I’m so obnoxiously happy. But love is in the air at this table, and it’s not just me and Lotta. Nor is it the bride and groom. These people at this posh resort are a world away from Gaz and Sylv and Judy and the gang, but they share one massive feature, and that’s heart. There’s romantic love here, and platonic love. Chemistry and friendship.

Despite the almost-constant ribbing, they’ve all got each other’s backs.

Maybe, when family falls short, it’s okay to let your found family rally around once in a while.

* * *

LOTTA

Elle does wear white—Valentino couture, to be precise—and she looks like an angel sent from heaven. When Josh sees her, his face is a picture. I swear, I’ve never seen a man happier to be getting married. There’s a full photography, paparazzi and phone ban in force today, butHello!magazine has won the exclusive rights to shoot the event, with all the proceeds going to Crohn’s Disease charities. It’s a cause close to Elle’s heart.

I can’t wait to see the money shots they get of Josh’s face as he watches her glide towards him in a sea of ivory silk and lace. With her perfect five-month-old baby bump, she’s a vision of beauty and fertility and general gorgeousness, and she takes my breath away.

If Aide hadn’t turned up, I suspect I’d be spiralling about now.

Pathetic. But true.

I’d be sitting here in my stunning, diaphanous Chanel gown of palest aqua tulle, feeling like the dress of a lifetime was wasted because he didn’t come. I’m not proud of myself, but I can’t deny it.

The ceremony is underway. It’s five o’clock and still very hot, but in this open-sided marquee, banked by white flowers and greenery, we’re perfectly shaded. Even Nora, who’s a wedding planner for a gorgeous resort in the UK and by far the most anal person I know, is gobsmacked by the beauty around us.

It’s a small wedding by Hollywood standards—only two hundred and fifty people. The chateau is built on cliffs overlooking the Med and flanked by pine forests and its own spectacular olive grove. This part of France is verdant and heavily wooded. The scent of pine is everywhere, the elevated position offers a light breeze, and behind Elle and Josh and the officiant is the Mediterranean, sparkling azure like the coast it gives its name to.

We have Noah and Honor on one side and Theo and Nora on the other. Theo’s supposed to be sitting up-front with his family—his mum and Elle’s mum are sisters—but he said it would be more fun with us. Everyone’s so in love, and it’s impossible not to get swept up in it.

And while I’m ecstatic for my friends and adore their other halves, this many Happily Ever Afters in such close proximity could be a bitter pill to swallow.

If.

If I didn’t have the world’s most beautiful man sitting beside me, looking every inch the ultimate female fantasy in his tux.

If he wasn’t holding my hand against his rock-hard thigh as if he’s scared I’m going to run away.

If he didn’t keep glancing at me from under those thick black eyelashes in a way that’s loving and conspiratorial and oddly vulnerable.

Then, yeah, I’d probably be feeling totally miserable and lovesick. As it is, I feel like I’m floating in some kind of bubble. I’m swept up in the magic, not only of Elle and Josh’s fairytale, but of my own. Caught up in the excitement and the anticipation of what lies ahead for me and Aide.

We’ve only just scratched the surface. It’s been carnal and desperate and lust-fuelled up until now, and I don’t expect things to get less explosive between the sheets anytime soon—or ever—but I’m even more excited about what we can achieve together outside of the bedroom.

What does the future hold with Aide by my side? How can I be there byhisside, to love and support him while he goes through the world, trying to make it a better place? How can I possibly sit here and attempt to imagine what we can achieve together?

All I know is that my world is a brighter place with him in it. I am a better person with him inspiring me every day. And there’s nothing I care about more than making Aide Duffy happy as he navigates life hellbent on giving back.

He needs someone who’s as focused on his welfare as he is on everyone else’s.

Shit. Those are the kinds of sentiments wedding vows are made of.

* * *

My man scrubs up well.For some reason, it keeps hitting me this evening. The irony, that is. The irony of the fact that he had me at hello with his grimy vest and his power tool. He scratched an itch for something I didn’t know I needed.

And now he’s here with me, in one of the most beautiful spots in the world, surrounded by the rich and famous and beautiful, dazzling everyone he meets with his conversation even more than with his movie-star good looks and Tom Ford tux and bank balance, and I’m swooning.

Maybe it’s not ironic.

Maybe it’s just a function of the fact that he’s so ridiculously hot and impressive and articulate and kind and dripping with integrity that he’s irresistible in every persona he embodies. That he has me useless and smitten and aroused and pathetically infatuated simply because, in every guise, he is himself.

He’s inimitable.

---