upstairs as they got beautified, or whatever the heck they did.
“Where’s your date, man?” Marc asked Roman.
“I decided not to bring anyone.” He shrugged, a piece of his long hair slipping out of his short ponytail, hanging in his face. At least he’d shaved for the occasion.
“We talked about this,” Marc muttered.
“I hired an escort to take, fucked her, and then decided I’d rather have her waiting for me naked at my place for when this thing is over rather than having her glomming for a picture on Page Six.”
Trevor nodded in empathy. “Makes sense.”
“I need to see Lauren privately before we head outside, though. Can I make use of one of your guest rooms?” Marc asked.
Trevor laughed. “Poor Lauren, what have you got up your sleeve?”
“Well, she’s supposed to be my submissive this week, including tonight. So I figured I’d help her remember.”
“Smart man,” Roman nodded approvingly. “A woman with a sore ass is much more likely to remember how to behave.”
“You sound so old-school fifties when you say shit like that, man,” Trevor joked, but Roman just smirked.
“Tell me you didn’t play with Elisabeth last night, just a little.”
“Guilty,” Trevor laughed. “But in all fairness, it was at her own request.”
Marc caught a haunted look, a look of longing in Roman’s eyes at Trevor’s response. When would Roman man up and get over her?
“All right,” Marc said, setting his drink down and standing. “I’m going into the lioness’s den to find Lauren and take care of business. I’ll be out in time for the groomsmen photos and stuff.”
He leaned over to whisper in Roman’s ear, “Don’t get drunk, man. You’ve got a toast to give at the reception.”
“I know.”
“Are you nervous?” Marc wouldn’t usually ask something like that of Roman, who never showed fear of any kind. But this was different. This was the woman he thought he loved marrying his best friend.
“Do I look nervous? I didn’t even write anything down. I’m winging it.”
Shit. That sounded like a recipe for disaster. “Don’t say anything about your feelings for Elisabeth,” Marc warned.
“Go fuck your girlfriend,” Roman said, and smiled as he flipped him off.
L auren opened her eyes. “Can I look now?” she asked Julian.
“Girl, you best look, after all the time I spent on them gorgeous eyes of yours,” he said, flipping his Hermès scarf over his shoulder.
Lauren turned to the huge mirror in Elisabeth’s dressing room and gasped with surprise. She was used to seeing herself with thick black eyeliner and red lipstick, a look that totally worked for her usually. But tonight, Julian had played up the blue in her eyes with a shimmery copper eyeshadow and blue accents, along with long, black lashes. Her lips were a glossy pink, a color she hadn’t worn since she was pubescent, but in the pale blue dress, it worked.
“I love it! You’re a genius!”
Julian tipped an invisible hat and smiled. “I washed the kink off your face,” he said matter-of-factly.
Elisabeth squealed with delight at Lauren’s transformation. “You look fabulous,” she said. Turning to her bridesmaids, Trevor’s two sisters and one sister-in-law, her face lit up. “Everyone does!”
But it was Elisabeth who looked the most stunning, as she should. After dress-shopping for herself, Lauren had no doubt that Elisabeth’s wedding dress cost tens of thousands of dollars at least. Maybe more. There were crystal accents that might be actual diamonds along the neckline, and her tiara, with the veil flowing behind it, was undoubtedly made of diamonds. Why would a billionaire’s bride wear anything less?
“I love your dress,” Lauren said. “It’s unbelievable.”
“Thanks. I helped design it, and it was custom-made for me.”
“It’s perfect,” one of the sisters said in agreement.
There was a knock on the door.
“No boys allowed,” Elisabeth called.
“It’s Marc,” came
“Where’s your date, man?” Marc asked Roman.
“I decided not to bring anyone.” He shrugged, a piece of his long hair slipping out of his short ponytail, hanging in his face. At least he’d shaved for the occasion.
“We talked about this,” Marc muttered.
“I hired an escort to take, fucked her, and then decided I’d rather have her waiting for me naked at my place for when this thing is over rather than having her glomming for a picture on Page Six.”
Trevor nodded in empathy. “Makes sense.”
“I need to see Lauren privately before we head outside, though. Can I make use of one of your guest rooms?” Marc asked.
Trevor laughed. “Poor Lauren, what have you got up your sleeve?”
“Well, she’s supposed to be my submissive this week, including tonight. So I figured I’d help her remember.”
“Smart man,” Roman nodded approvingly. “A woman with a sore ass is much more likely to remember how to behave.”
“You sound so old-school fifties when you say shit like that, man,” Trevor joked, but Roman just smirked.
“Tell me you didn’t play with Elisabeth last night, just a little.”
“Guilty,” Trevor laughed. “But in all fairness, it was at her own request.”
Marc caught a haunted look, a look of longing in Roman’s eyes at Trevor’s response. When would Roman man up and get over her?
“All right,” Marc said, setting his drink down and standing. “I’m going into the lioness’s den to find Lauren and take care of business. I’ll be out in time for the groomsmen photos and stuff.”
He leaned over to whisper in Roman’s ear, “Don’t get drunk, man. You’ve got a toast to give at the reception.”
“I know.”
“Are you nervous?” Marc wouldn’t usually ask something like that of Roman, who never showed fear of any kind. But this was different. This was the woman he thought he loved marrying his best friend.
“Do I look nervous? I didn’t even write anything down. I’m winging it.”
Shit. That sounded like a recipe for disaster. “Don’t say anything about your feelings for Elisabeth,” Marc warned.
“Go fuck your girlfriend,” Roman said, and smiled as he flipped him off.
L auren opened her eyes. “Can I look now?” she asked Julian.
“Girl, you best look, after all the time I spent on them gorgeous eyes of yours,” he said, flipping his Hermès scarf over his shoulder.
Lauren turned to the huge mirror in Elisabeth’s dressing room and gasped with surprise. She was used to seeing herself with thick black eyeliner and red lipstick, a look that totally worked for her usually. But tonight, Julian had played up the blue in her eyes with a shimmery copper eyeshadow and blue accents, along with long, black lashes. Her lips were a glossy pink, a color she hadn’t worn since she was pubescent, but in the pale blue dress, it worked.
“I love it! You’re a genius!”
Julian tipped an invisible hat and smiled. “I washed the kink off your face,” he said matter-of-factly.
Elisabeth squealed with delight at Lauren’s transformation. “You look fabulous,” she said. Turning to her bridesmaids, Trevor’s two sisters and one sister-in-law, her face lit up. “Everyone does!”
But it was Elisabeth who looked the most stunning, as she should. After dress-shopping for herself, Lauren had no doubt that Elisabeth’s wedding dress cost tens of thousands of dollars at least. Maybe more. There were crystal accents that might be actual diamonds along the neckline, and her tiara, with the veil flowing behind it, was undoubtedly made of diamonds. Why would a billionaire’s bride wear anything less?
“I love your dress,” Lauren said. “It’s unbelievable.”
“Thanks. I helped design it, and it was custom-made for me.”
“It’s perfect,” one of the sisters said in agreement.
There was a knock on the door.
“No boys allowed,” Elisabeth called.
“It’s Marc,” came
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