The Billionaire Takes a Bride

“My mother calls me Nugget. Now you see why I hate nicknames.”

“Aw, Nugget’s adorable. Was it because you were a fat baby?”

He gave her a baleful look, for a moment forgetting all about the party that surged around them. “Are you kidding? She started calling me that four years ago.”

Chelsea’s horrified laughter was smothered behind a gloved hand. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. My mother is very big about making her show entertaining.”

“I’ve never watched it.”

“There’s very little reality in her reality show. Unless you’re heavy into designers and rich women getting into fights at the nail salon, you’re not missing much.”

“It sounds awful.”

“That’s because it is awful.”

“Is that why you’re hiding in the corner with me?”

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you just quote Jane Austen at me?”

“I did.”

“And you’re single how?” she teased. “I swear ovaries just melted everywhere.”

“One of my sisters is a huge fan.” He grimaced. “Was. Was a huge fan. They made her change it to something trendier for the show. Now she’s obsessed with sparkly vampires because they were paid to promote it.”

“I thought . . .”

“That we’re rich? We are. My sisters have trust funds, and my brother and I are inheriting more than any human should. They don’t need money. They just like the attention.”

“Oh.” She tried not to look revolted at the thought and failed. “And let me guess, everyone that you date wants to be on the show?”

Someone actually got it. For the second time since meeting Chelsea, he was shocked at how astute she was. “Bingo. They don’t want me, they want a man-sized ticket to notoriety.”

Chelsea gave a delicate shudder. “You poor thing. Don’t worry. I only want you for appearances.” She patted his arm.

“Which is why we’re perfect together.” He nodded at a distant table full of food. “Enough about my mother. You want something to eat?”

“God, I would love that.” She gave him a grateful look and released his arm. “I haven’t eaten anything all day and I feel like I could chew the arm off of the next guy that comes up and asks me if I’m a skating stripper.”

He laughed. “You want to come with or continue to hide back here?”

Her expression brightened. “Can I hide? Will you hate me if I do?”

She looked so pleased at the thought of remaining in the corner that he couldn’t deny her. “I won’t hate you. I can get you a plate. What do you want?”

“One of everything.” She patted her flat stomach. “No girly appetite here.”

Sebastian grinned. “All right, I’ll be back. And . . . champagne?”

Her expression grew a little distant. “No alcohol, actually. Just water for me.”

Interesting. “Water it is. Be right back.”

Sebastian made his way through the crowd, and as he did, he found himself constantly greeting friends or avoiding couples who were already in the process of hooking up. Chelsea was right—it was a big meat market here tonight. Even the bridesmaids and groomsmen were hooking up. He watched Magnus disappear into the gardens after a pirate girl, and Greer was currently plastered to Asher.

Unless, of course, they were also safety dates for each other. He glanced back at Greer and Asher and saw Asher stick his tongue down the tiny woman’s throat, his hands cupping her ass through her spangly costume.

Nope. That was definitely not a safety date. Never mind, then. He was relieved he and Chelsea were on the same wavelength, at least. He grabbed a tiny plate and started piling it high with food. There were all kinds of snacks, from sweet to savory, and three kinds of shrimp. He wondered if she had any allergies, and glanced back where he’d left her.

Two guys had approached her—not surprising given her bright yet sexy costume. But instead of the polite disinterest he expected to see on her face, she looked downright panicked. Her back was pressed against the wall and the look in her eyes was not one of interest but of helpless fear. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she looked ready to hit someone.

And his protective instincts surged. Ignoring the person who tried to get his attention, he tucked the plate against his chest and muscled his way back through the crowd toward her. One of the guys leaned in, and just as he did, Sebastian swooped between the men and Chelsea. “Here you go, Snookums.” He leaned in and pressed the plate of food into her hands, and to stake his “claim” he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Then he looped a hand around her waist and gave the men a challenging look. “New friends?”