The Billionaire and the Virgin

“That’s fine,” Rob said, his voice surprisingly toneless. “I’m ready when you are.”

She emerged from the bathroom and smiled at him, hoping he’d approve of her dress. It was a peachy thing made of a floaty chiffon that tied under her breasts and her neck and made her long form look willowy. She’d loved it, but it was too flimsy and formal for anything but a wedding. Tonight, however, it was perfect, and she felt a bit like a princess, especially with her sparkly heels . . . and her very own Prince Charming on her arm.

“Shall we go?” she prompted when he didn’t move.

He looked over at her then, and it seemed as if he was focusing on her for the first time. To her surprise, he pulled her against him and took her mouth in a hard, passionate kiss that made her dazed with pleasure. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless and her trembling fingers moved to his lips to wipe her lipstick off. “W-what was that for?”

“That was because you’re beautiful and I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

Marjorie smiled. That was close to an admission of love. Close. “I love you,” she said softly. “Thank you for coming with me.”

The smile he gave her was grim. “No need to thank me.”

Marjorie fought the impending sense of doom as they left Rob’s room and headed down to the lobby of the hotel. The Red Ballroom had been reserved for the rehearsal dinner, and it was on the main floor, down a private hall. And Marjorie held Rob’s hand, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt beautiful and confident despite the fact that she was six inches taller than her date in her high heels. With Rob, it didn’t matter, because he made her feel beautiful no matter what.

When they got to the double doors, there was a bodyguard in a tuxedo checking names. They stood in line with other chatting, formally dressed people, but Marjorie didn’t recognize them. Rob seemed to grow even more nervous, and his hand was squeezing hers tightly. Was Rob . . . shy? Was that the problem? He didn’t seem like the type.

They got to the door, and Marjorie smiled at the man with the clipboard. “Marjorie Ivarsson and date.”

“Date’s name?” the man asked, scanning his list with a pen.

Odd that they should ask. “Rob Cannon.”

The guard looked up and frowned at them. “Please wait here.”

“Marjorie,” Rob said as they stepped aside. The guard slipped into the room, closing the double doors behind him.

She frowned. “Maybe the wedding party is supposed to go through a different door? I didn’t ask.”

“It’s not you,” Rob told her. “It’s me. I should leave.”

“What? No, I want you here with me,” Marjorie told him, panic and hurt threading through her. “You’re my date. I don’t see why that’s an issue.”

“You’ll see,” he said in a low, defeated voice.

The doors to the dining hall swung open and out stormed Logan. He was followed by two big men in tuxedos that were clearly security, and they headed straight for Marjorie and Rob.

“You piece of shit,” Logan snarled, pointing at her date. “I can’t believe you have the balls to come here.” He rushed forward and grabbed Rob by the lapels of his jacket.

Marjorie gave a little scream, looking on in dismay. “What’s going on?”

“It’s okay, Marjorie,” Rob said, an unnatural smile on his face. He put his hands in the air, as if conceding a battle. “My friend Logan here is just a little upset I came to his party.”

“I warned you a dozen times about fucking with my wedding,” Logan said, and for a horrible moment, Marjorie thought Logan was going to punch Rob.

“I invited him,” she said, stepping up when it didn’t look like Rob was going to defend himself.

Logan looked over at her, as if seeing her for the first time, and then back at Rob. His sneer grew worse. “Really? Even after I warned you?”

“Warned him?” Marjorie asked. “Warned him about what?”

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Rob said. “Logan’s just losing his temper over nothing.”

“Over nothing? She’s a nice girl and she deserves better than you. I told you to fucking stay away from her.”

Why would Logan want Rob to stay away from her? Confused, Marjorie looked from one man to the other. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll go where I want, when I want,” Rob told Logan. He looked utterly furious and resigned at the same time . . . as if he’d been expecting this. “You sure as fuck can’t tell me who to date.”

Logan’s lip curled. “Isn’t that what you wanted, though? A way to get my attention? Well, you have it.”

“Fuck off,” Rob snapped. “This isn’t about that.”

“Isn’t it?” Logan said. “You’ve been blackmailing me by threatening to sic the press on my goddamn wedding for the last week and a half. And now you’re sleeping with one of the bridesmaids as your ticket in? That’s low.”

Wait . . . sleeping with her to get into the wedding? Marjorie’s eyes widened and she looked over at Rob. “That’s not true, is it?”

“Of course it’s not fucking true,” Rob shot back, giving her a briefly wounded look for doubting him.

Marjorie’s voice was quiet. “Then what does he mean about blackmailing him?”

He looked at Logan, and Marjorie could visibly see Logan’s jaw clench. The man looked terrifying. She knew he was protective of Brontë, but she couldn’t quite grasp why he was flying out here to defend her from Rob. Then, Rob moved toward her and took her hand. Dazed, she let him grip it, and he gave her a little squeeze and leaned in. “We need to talk, you and I. Somewhere private. I’ll explain everything.”