Alpha Billionaire's Bride - Part 3

Ian barked out a laugh. “I’m joking, Jada. I wasn’t testing you. I figured you’d tell me eventually. I understand loyalty to your sister and how you couldn’t know what my reaction would be. I was giving you time. And see? I was right to do it. You’ve told me everything and we can move on.”

“That’s so logical and even-handed, it’s almost ridiculous,” Jada said.

“Thank you, I think.”

“I don’t get it, Ian. I wanted to tell you right away, and I believed Marina was wrong to distrust you. And now here you are telling me that you trusted me, too. Why is that? Why are we trusting each other so easily and quickly? Are you always this way? I’m not.”

“No, I’m not either.”

Jada looked into his eyes and read that he didn’t understand what was happening any more than she did. And she also read that, like her, he didn’t mind not understanding, which also wasn’t common for either of them.

She considered the idea that being with Ian was meant to be, that in a cosmic sense he’d been intended for her all along, and that’s why she was still single and why she’d never been serious about a man before, and ... it was meant to be. She almost said it out loud. Almost. Then she returned to her senses.

“So anyway,” she said briskly, intent on changing the subject, “you know all about Marina then. Good. I’m glad Elly told you, actually. You’ve already had time to think about everything. Who’s tops on your whodunnit suspect list now? We think it has to be one of Sasha’s enemies. We’ve narrowed it down to three models with grudges.”

“That’s interesting. But you’re wrong. I know exactly who did this and why.”

“You do? How? When did you find out? Why haven’t you told me?” Jada’s mind whirled.

“Well, it’s not one hundred percent certain yet, but it will be by tomorrow morning.” His confidence was persuasive. “CGTV invented this story, made it up. They’ve been ducking our requests for a copy of the marriage license, and the reason why is simple—they don’t have one. When the Springers Glen courthouse opens up tomorrow, my people will be there getting proof that there never was a marriage license. Then CGTV will pay for thinking they could get away with something as outrageous as this.”

“Wow. I mean, not that you shouldn’t make them pay. You should. I mean wow, that makes so much sense. Do you really think they’d make up something like this? About someone as powerful as you? I don’t see how they’d think they could get away with it.”

“Tattletale presses lie plenty. If there isn’t a real scandal to sell their product, they make one up. Truth or fiction, they’ve got sales quotas to make.”

“I get that. Why aren’t they constantly being sued?”

“Most of us in the public eye simply let it go or we threaten legal action until they retract the story and we leave it at that. Also, there are a lot of people out there who know that any press, good or bad, helps careers that rely on celebrity, so they don’t complain as long as it doesn’t go too far.”

“Do you think this story has gone too far?” she asked.

“I do. I might have let it go, merely threatened them until they publicly retracted it, allowed them to claim that a clerical error caused a misunderstanding. You’d be surprised how many supposed clerical errors there are.”

“A ton.”

“Yes. A damned incompetent profession as a whole if celebrity gossip presses are to be believed. Anyway, I might have let this go, but when they attacked you so viciously, they crossed the line. You aren’t a public figure and they should know better. I promise you, Jada, they’ll pay for what they’ve done and for any damage they might have caused you moving forward.”

Warmth built in Jada’s chest. “It’s okay, Ian. I’m okay. I don’t think they’ve done any permanent damage.” She could hardly ask her next question from fear of his answer. “Do you?”

“I hope not. I don’t think so, not yet. But it was a nasty attack, and I don’t understand why they did it. It can’t be allowed to stand. It’s not right.”

She nodded. She’d been trying not to think about the impact this would have on her future, pushing her concerns aside while she still could. But Ian had been thinking about it for her, hadn’t he? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“It’s a lot to take in,” she said. “You’re sure CGTV made everything up?”

“I am.”

“Marina’s going to be disappointed. She’s spent all day trying to get hold of those models’ agents, but they haven’t answered her, probably because of the holiday. All that frustration for nothing ... except, it kind of serves her right. She wouldn’t have had the trouble if she’d just let me tell you everything yesterday.”

“Good point,” he said. “But I can see her side of things. She doesn’t know me, after all.”

“And maybe you’re some crazy, overly-rich egomaniac who goes ballistic when someone crosses you.”

The side of his mouth quirked. “You are truly naive, the pair of you.”

“Wealthy people are never egomaniacs ... I see. Ha!”

“No. Not that. You’re right about that. Not about me, but in general. Still, that’s not what I meant. I meant you’re naive to think that anyone could be overly-rich.”

She laughed. “Silly me.”

“Exactly.”

She glanced around the spectacular, sparkling room and let the scents of the candles and the music fill her senses. “What you’ve done here makes a convincing argument in your favor. This is incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it. Now, are we through with our confessions? Do you have anything else to tell me? Have you been fibbing about liking Mrs. Best’s cooking or something equally as shocking?”

“Nope. My conscience is clear.”

“Wonderful. Mine, too.” He stood up, bent down slightly and held out his hand. “Then may I, finally, have this dance?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And they swept out onto the dance floor like the fairy tale prince he was, and the fairy tale princess she’d never believed she could be.

Chapter Seven

IAN DIDN’T WANT THE MUSIC to stop. Jada fit in his arms so perfectly, he never wanted to let her go. He guided her around the dance floor, entranced with her lightness, the intuitive way she followed his lead, her grace and style.

Her perfume jumbled his senses and her soft hair tickled his cheek. She’d worn her hair down again, curly and half-wild, and he wanted to think she’d done it for him, because he liked it that way. Surely, she had done it for him.

Dance after dance, they lost themselves in a dreamy other-world, where they were the stars in a scene from a classic love story which would culminate in his bedroom, on his big bed that had been empty of the beautiful Jada Howarth for far too long.

Soon, the final act would begin and he’d twirl her out the door, down the hall, and carry her up the stairs. Soon. One more dance. Just one more.

A buzzing sound broke into the dream. Was it coming from the string quartet on the dais? No, it was closer than that. Buzz. Buzz. Like a phone. He’d turned his phone off. Jada shifted in his arms, pulled backward and they stopped in the middle of the dance floor.

“Sorry,” she said, her delicate brows furrowing. “I forgot to turn off my phone.”

She slipped her hand into a small pocket hidden on the side of her full skirt. Ian hadn’t even realized the pocket was there. Jada pulled out her phone, glanced at it, touched the screen then tucked it back in her pocket.

“Who was it” Ian asked.

“Nobody. It’s fine. Never mind.”

“You had a look on your face when you saw it. Who was it?”

“My parents.”

Inside, he asked, “Why me?” Outside, he told Jada, “You should call them back.”

“No way,” she said. “They’re not interrupting us again. Whatever they want, it can wait.”

“Probably, but we don’t know that for sure. What if it’s important

?”

“If it’s important, they’ll send a text.”

He enjoyed a moment’s hope. “Okay then.”

“Except,” Jada said with a sheepish expression, “they usually don’t think about texting. It’s a generational thing, I guess.”

“Call them back so your mind’s at ease. I don’t know about you, but I could use a break anyway, and a drink. Would you like one?”

She smiled, her sexy lips so plump and kissable he could hardly restrain himself. “Thanks.”

She followed Ian over to a small bar that had been set up for the evening in one corner of the room. While he put together some refreshments that had been pre-prepared by Mrs. Best, Jada sat down nearby and called her parents. He couldn’t help but overhear her side of the conversation.

She asked if everything was okay and Ian was pleased to hear her relief, which must mean everything was fine. She was quiet for a long while, obviously listening. She sighed quietly several times, making Ian grin and sneak the occasional look at her long-suffering expression.

“Why are you in Springers Glen?” she asked loudly, sounding surprised. “I told you to stay away because of the press.” There was a pause. “Since when do you care about decorating family graves for Memorial Day?” Pause. “I don’t know. Sounds fishy to me.” Pause. “No, Dad, I’m not calling you liars. Bending the truth-ers. That’s what I’m calling you.” Pause. A big sigh.

Ian handed her a glass of champagne punch, one of Mrs. Best’s creations. Jada accepted it and closed her eyes as she took a long drink. Ian sat down beside her and sipped his own.