The Wedding Rescue, Book Three (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance)

S
he thinks
she's not his type. He's determined to prove her wrong.

Leigha Carmichael is used to the quiet life. A junior accountant by day, she knows girls like her don't have exciting lives. She's smart, shy and her curvy body doesn't fit in among the beauty queens of Las Vegas. Still reeling from her ex-boyfriend's betrayal, Leigha's sworn off all men. Except she has a huge problem, and only the right man can solve it.

The moment he sees her across a crowded bar, Dylan Kane knows he wants her. And Dylan Kane always gets what he wants. Especially when the object of his desire is sitting in his own casino. She's nothing like the skinny, overly made up women he's used to. From her clear gray eyes to her luscious curves, Leigha is the real thing. Exactly the change of pace he's been looking for. And even better, she needs something from him. With the bargain he has in mind, they'll both get exactly what they want.

In the few days she's his, Dylan plans to take control of every delectable inch of Leigha's body. But when the weekend is over, will he be able to let her go?

I
stared
at the phone on the table as if it were a snake, poised to strike. It remained silent and dark, nothing more than metal, glass, and plastic. Before it could come to life with another creepy message, I turned and left the room. Whatever was going on, I didn’t want to know. Not right now. I wanted to walk out of that room in my fabulous dress, wearing fabulous heels, and go to my evil sister’s rehearsal dinner with my unbelievably hot date. That phone, and the powder keg of drama it suddenly represented, was staying behind. Nothing was going to ruin my night with Dylan.

I was so focused on closing the door to the bedroom, I didn’t see Dylan until he was standing right in front of me. The guy was knee-weakening hot, normally. Standing before me in a classic black tux, he might have stepped right out of a romantic movie. More than his good looks, or the way the tux fit his broad shoulders, it was the look on his face that did me in. Possession, arousal, and admiration swirled in his eyes, telling me that I didn’t look as good as I thought I did, I looked better.

Holding out his hand to me, he said, “Come here.” I crossed the distance between us, smiling as he drew me into his arms.

“I’m going to ruin your lip gloss,” he said, his mouth coming down on mine.

I didn’t give a flip about the lip gloss. I’d kiss Dylan any day, for any reason. He was gentle, almost reverent, his fingertips holding my chin in place as his lips claimed me.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked when the kiss ended. I smiled up at him, suddenly a little shy. Unzipping my purse I said, “Almost.” I dashed into the bathroom and made a quick repair to my lips before re-joining Dylan. I was heading to the door when he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“One more thing,” he said.

He picked up a velvet-covered box from the table beside him. My stomach pitched with nerves and apprehension. All of these clothes were one thing, but jewelry was another entirely. I knew that the necklace and earrings I wore with the dress weren’t sophisticated enough. My pearls were okay, but I was wearing Oscar de la Renta. A simple strand of cheap pearls didn’t cut it. Still, anything Dylan had in that box would be far more extravagant than what was appropriate. The dress alone went beyond the realm of acceptable gifts from a man I’d known only a day. Reading my mind, he said,

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“Dylan, you can’t -”

“And don’t tell me what to do. That was the deal. I’m your date for the weekend, and in exchange, you’re mine. That means you do what I say. No arguing.”

“If you don’t want any arguing, you’ve got the wrong girl,” I said.

“I’ve got exactly the right girl,” he said, opening the black velvet box to reveal a thick gold choker that gleamed in the evening light. Beside it sat matching earrings and bracelet. “I was tempted to go for diamonds. But those are for tomorrow’s dress. This one calls for gold.”

“When did you even have time to get these?” I asked, standing frozen as he fastened the choker around my neck. Without protest I took the earrings he handed me and began to put them in.

“I remembered them from the display downstairs. I had them delivered.” Stepping back he surveyed me from head to toe, eyes hot and satisfied. “You look like a goddess. Not that it matters, but your bitchy sisters are going to choke with envy when they see how gorgeous you are.” He took my arm and drew me towards the door.

“That shows what you know,” I said. “With sisters, it always matters.”

“Not with those two. They should be beneath your notice, Leigha. Until they appreciate you for who you are, they aren’t worthy of your attention.”

I needed to write some of this down. When Dylan was out of my life, I could pull out his outrageous flattery to prop up my sagging ego. No man had ever seen me the way he did–as if I was special, extraordinary, exactly as I was. Not sure what to say in response, I followed him to the elevator in silence. We stood together, side by side, my hand in his. Casually, he leaned down and whispered in my ear.

“You know that I have cameras everywhere in the Delecta.”

I nodded. I knew that there were cameras everywhere in Vegas, not just at the Delecta.

“If there weren’t, you’d be on your knees right now, sucking me with that sweet mouth until I filled it up. And you’d do it, wouldn’t you? Just because I asked.”

I nodded again. I couldn’t lie. If the cameras hadn’t been there, and he’d asked me to, I would have done it. Gone to my knees right there in the elevator. I might have done it even knowing the cameras were there if he’d asked. In the last twenty-four hours, I hadn’t had a good track record at saying no to Dylan. Just the thought of sucking his cock while the camera watched had my knees weak.

“You’d do it because you’d want to. Because deep down, you know you can trust me. That I’ll take care of you, in every way you need or want.”

Once more I nodded even though this time I had no idea what he meant. Did I know I could trust him? In some ways, I did. In others, I was terrified to put my trust in any man, especially so soon after my ex had stolen so much from me. And what did he mean that he’d take care of me? Did he mean he’d make me come if I sucked him off? I had no doubt about that. So far every pleasure I’d given Dylan had been paid back twice over. But what if he meant more than that? Thinking of the clothes and the jewelry, I wondered if he was talking about something bigger than sex. I pushed the thought away. Sex with Dylan was a dream. I wasn’t fool enough to hope for more.

I
was
in over my head with this girl. Half of the shit that came out of my mouth with her was unplanned. That wasn’t me. I thought things through. I was methodical, calculating, and I always got my way. With Leigha, I felt like I was struggling my way upstream, off balance and never getting as far as I wanted. I’d known her barely a day, and it felt like years.

She fit with me. Maybe not on the outside, but where it counted. This afternoon was a prime example. My plan had been simple. Eat, fuck some more, shower, get dressed, go to the rehearsal dinner, then bring her home and fuck her again and again.

Instead, we’d ended up sitting at the table talking about our work. My lust for her hadn’t gone away--in fact it had been steadily growing since the last time I’d had her late that morning. But I’d found myself caught up in our conversation. I’ll admit, I started out wanting to impress her when I told her what I did every day as one of the heads of Kane Enterprises.

But, she was genuinely interested in how I ran the business. Her questions were both curious and insightful, a compelling combination. Her passion for her own work was equally appealing. I never thought I’d say that hearing the details of an accountant’s nine to five would have me riveted. I should have been fighting sleep. That was Leigha, turning everything I thought I knew on its head.

Yes, she was gorgeous. That was a given. Call me shallow, but I’d never been drawn to ugly women. She was curvier than the current standard of beauty, sure, but she fit my standards to perfection. That she had a sharp brain was an unexpected bonus. I’d gone into this looking for something different than my usual, but still, no more than a weekend fuck. The way I’d had to talk her into the whole thing had been half the fun, at first. I liked that she wasn’t another easy conquest, that she wanted me but wasn’t ready to spread her legs just because I was reasonably attractive and rich. I was something special for her. It really hadn’t occurred to me that she would end up being the same for me.

The change hadn’t hit me until she’d tried to leave that morning. At the sight of her, teary eyed and edging for the door, panic had seized my chest. Fuck that. I never panicked, not over business, not over my life. Not the time Axel, Sam, and I were caught in a flash flood camping in the desert. And not ever over a woman.

Yet there I’d been, commanding her to stay while my heart pounded at the thought that she’d walk out. What the hell was wrong with me? Leigha was different; I’d figured that out. And she was a seriously hot fuck. No question, the best I’d had despite her lack of experience—or maybe because of it, but it didn’t matter. She was just a woman. There were thousands of those, beautiful and available, right outside my front door.

Why was this one so important? She thought I was a cheater?
Fine, then get out.
That’s what I should have said. Instead, I’d soothed her, kissed her, and taken her to breakfast. All the while refusing to give her back her purse. Keeping her purse was edging into stalker territory. She didn’t need her wallet since I was paying for everything. Ditto on her keys, since we were taking my car. They were all excuses. Stealing a woman’s purse and holding it hostage to keep her from leaving was nuts.

That brought me back to everything being upside down. Normally it was a challenge to scrape these girls off. I’d trapped Leigha so she couldn’t leave me. Because I needed time for what? To fuck her until I got her out of my system? Or to convince her to stay?

I
’d love
to say that seeing my sisters’ jaws drop at the sight of me didn’t give me a rush. To say that I was mature and confident all on my own, without the dress and jewelry, without Dylan on my arm. That I didn’t need to feel, for just one night, like I had the upper hand after years as the butt of their jokes. But I’d be lying. I’m not Mother Theresa.

Knowing that I was wearing more than they’d ever be able to afford, and I looked fantastic in it, felt like a victory after years of their cruel taunts. Never mind that I couldn’t afford it either. My heart was getting all tangled up with Dylan, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate that the point of our arrangement was working out better than I’d hoped. I didn’t just have a date for the wedding, Dylan had turned me into a princess.

A princess who had her mind in the gutter. While I was greeting the other guests, nodding along to introductions and shaking hands, I was acutely aware of Dylan’s hand on my back, the heat of his palm occasionally dipping low enough to cup my ass. The dinner was a moment of triumph and all I wanted was to get back to the room and peel away every scrap of Dylan’s tux so I could get my hands on the man beneath. Now that I’d gotten to know him, I didn’t want to waste our time together on this stupid wedding. Knowing my sister, she’d be getting married again in few years. I’d never get another chance at a man like Dylan.

The cocktail hour was a blur of cheek kisses and polite hugs until we made our way over to Christie and Peter. They stood in the back of the room beside my mother, holding court as if they were visiting royalty. I smiled at my mother when she caught sight of me. Her eyes went comically wide before she called out my name and rushed forward, enveloping me in a tight hug. We were so different, my mom and me. She was bright colors and exuberance while I was understated and quiet. But wrapped in her tight embrace, the strong and familiar scent of her perfume in a cloud around us, my eyes got wet.

“You look so gorgeous, baby. Like a dream.” She pulled back to cup my face in her hands, her eyes on mine, beaming with adoring love. “My beautiful girl.”

Yep, no matter that we might be total opposites, I loved my Mom. Leaning in to kiss her cheek, I said, “You look great, too, Mom.” She really did. Her little black dress had an emphasis on the ‘little’ and her cleavage was the opposite, but she looked great, especially considering she was the mother of three grown daughters.

She tugged me to her side, separating me from Dylan, who was promptly claimed by Christie and Cathie. He sent me a wink before turning to them. Oddly, I wasn’t worried about him being alone with my sisters. From the things he’d said earlier and the night before, he despised them and liked me. Nothing those two harpies could say would change that.

“Did he take you shopping?” my Mom half-whispered into my ear. She’d backed us a few feet from the crowd so we could talk in relative privacy. I knew what she was getting at. Barbara Carmichael (I still couldn’t get my brain to adjust to any of her more recent last names) knew clothes. Depending on her current husband, she didn’t always have the budget to shop as well as she’d like to, but she always knew the latest collections. So I wasn’t the least bit surprised when she said, “I know that dress. De la Renta, from two months ago. And those sandals are Rene Caovilla’s. I tried them on at Saks. He’s not shying away from spending money on you.”

“Mom, this isn’t what you think. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Leigha, no man spends twelve thousand dollars on a woman’s clothes if he’s planning on walking away. Trust me.”

I choked on my champagne. Twelve thousand dollars? I’d known the dress and shoes had to be expensive, but that was insane. And she didn’t know about the jewelry. As if she’d read my mind, she said,

“My guess is that necklace and the matching earrings and bracelet are his work as well. I’d give you an estimate on those, but I don’t want you to pass out in the middle of your sister’s rehearsal dinner.”

“Mom,” I whispered, “Stop. Seriously. You’re freaking me out. I don’t want to think about this.”

“Well, you need to. That man looks at you as if he wants to protect you from everyone in the world except him. Pay attention and don’t let him get away.”

“Mom, really -” I stopped when she raised her hand in front of my face. Did she just give me the hand?

“Leigha, just keep your eyes open. That’s all I’m saying. Men like Dylan don’t come along every day. I should know.” She glanced across the room at Christie and Cathie. “Now I’m going to go save your man from your sisters before they scare him away. I swear, he looks like he wants to kill them already. I love all my girls, honey, but your sisters could try the patience of a saint.”

With that, she walked away, her perfume trailing behind her. I meant to follow, but I was still reeling from everything she’d said. Twelve thousand dollars. Not counting the gold I wore around my neck, my ears and on my wrist. I’d been agonizing about Steven stealing ten grand and Dylan had dropped more than that in one day, just on clothes I didn’t even need. Adding in the other evening dress, shoes, dresses, and lingerie, I didn’t want to even want to try to guess how much he’d spent. It was probably enough to pay off half my mortgage. I didn’t know what to think about that. Was my mother right? Was he planning to be with me past the weekend?

It would make sense. A man didn’t head a corporation worth billions by being careless with money and throwing away this much cash on a weekend fling would be crazy. Still, the thought of being with Dylan longer term was hard to take in. Things like that didn’t happen to me.

I was so distracted, an arm slid around my waist before I noticed anyone nearby. I didn’t have to look up to know it wasn’t Dylan. The bad cologne was enough to clue me in. Peter. I tried to ease away without causing a scene, but his fingers tightened on my waist.

“You’re looking uncharacteristically sexy tonight, Leigha. Who knew you had it in you? You usually dress like an accountant.”

“I am an accountant, Peter.” I pulled back on his arm, trying to move away. His arm didn’t give. Dipping his head to my cheek, he said,“Once the new guy gets tired of you, I’ll be here. I can take care of you too, Leigha.”

“You’re marrying my sister,” I hissed, leaning back. This guy was disgusting. How could my sister be marrying him?

“Christie is a practical woman. As long as I can keep her credit card bills paid, she doesn’t ask questions.”

I didn’t want to draw attention, but I couldn’t take another second of his slimy hands. As subtly as I could, I jammed the spike heel of my sparkly gold sandal into Peter’s instep. His arm loosened, and I stepped away, trying not to cringe at the trail of his fingertips along my waist. Yuck.

“Don’t be so rude, Leigha,” he chided, only slightly favoring his foot as he stepped back. “When this guy dumps you, you’ll be on your own. I could be a good friend.”

“Fuck off, Peter.”

Not an original come back, but I was too grossed out to be witty. I whirled around, just wanting to get away from him. The sad thing was, I believed him about Christie. Not that she’d be cool with me being her husband’s mistress, but that she didn’t ask too many questions. I wondered how many late meetings and business trips he had. I was betting it was a lot. The thought depressed me. I didn’t really like my sister, but she was my sister. A marriage of convenience with Peter wasn’t a happy prospect.

This time when an arm wound around my waist, I relaxed into it, recognizing Dylan by instinct, even before his clean, masculine scent hit me.

“Sorry you got stuck with the evil twins while I talked to my Mom,” I said.

“That’s okay. You can make it up to me later.” The promise in his voice was enough to heat my blood. “What did Peter want?” he asked.

“Nothing.” No way was I going to tell Dylan what Peter had said. I had a feeling he wouldn’t take it well. And Peter wasn’t worth pissing Dylan off. I could handle Peter.

“I didn’t like him touching you,” Dylan said, his mouth moving against my ear in a whisper of a kiss.

“Neither did I,” I admitted.

“You’re mine. No one touches you but me. Understood?”

“Dylan,” I said, pulling away so I could face him. “I didn’t want him to touch me. I got rid of him as fast as I could.”

“I know.” Dylan took my hips in his hands and tugged me against him. Dipping his head to mine, he said, “I know you didn’t like it. And I know you were being polite. Next time, don’t be. No one touches you but me. Ever. That’s more important than being polite. Now tell me you understand.”

“What if I don’t want
you
to touch me?” I couldn’t help asking. Dylan nipped my ear, his teeth drawing a flash of pain that turned immediately into heat.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, we’ve got bigger problems than your fuck-head of a brother in law getting in your face.”

“Okay.” That was the best I could come up with. My brain had scattered at the touch of his teeth to my ear.

“Good. He touches you again, he answers to me.”

“Okay.” My brain clicked back into gear. “If it bothers you so much, why did you leave me with him?”

“I wanted to see what you would do,” Dylan said. I lurched back, suddenly pissed off.

“What?” I screeched. He’d left me to handle that pig as a
test
? Dylan’s arms tightened, not letting me move. People turned their heads to look. Dylan grinned down at me and pressed a kiss to my temple, whispering,“I’m buying you ten more pairs of heels just like that. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him leaving tracks of blood. You did a good job, sweetheart.”

I didn’t want to, but I melted—not just at him calling me sweetheart, but his praise. Testing me was high-handed and annoying. His being proud of me was hard to resist. Before I could think of what to say, Peter announced that it was time to go into dinner. Good. One meal, and hopefully not too many speeches to get through, and I’d be alone with Dylan again.