SEXY BILLIONAIRE

Rory

I was so engrossed in my term paper that I barely noticed when the barista called my name. Startled, I sprang up from my seat and navigated through the bustling coffee shop crowd. "Annie Position," the barista called out again. I couldn't help but chuckle at my choice of a fake name-until it seemed like the entire city had gathered and heard it.

"Matcha Frappuccino," she announced as I approached the counter to claim my drink. "Right here," I replied, my cheeks burning from the unexpected attention my clever alias had garnered. The barista flashed me a playful wink. "Cute," she remarked. All I managed was a half-hearted "Ha." I turned to make my escape from the crowd, but fate had other plans.

Before I knew it, my ridiculous pseudonym was no longer the center of attention. "Shit!" I cursed as my Frappuccino collided with the pristine surface of a white button-down shirt. "Damn it," the guy exclaimed, his arms outstretched, his eyes locked on the slow, green ooze creeping down his shirt. "I'm so sorry!" I stammered, desperate to make amends for my careless twirl that had led to this mishap.

His eyes met mine after I made a frantic attempt to toss the offending drink into the trash and snatched a handful of napkins. His hand covered mine, and his blue eyes shimmered like a tropical sea beneath the sun. My thoughts raced, and I tried to suppress the impending embarrassment that seemed inevitable.

This man was the most attractive person I'd ever laid eyes on, even compared to Hollywood heartthrobs. "I've got it," he reassured me, a captivating smile gracing his lips. Suddenly, a female voice interrupted our moment, dripping with annoyance. "Go!" she waved me away, making it clear that I had already caused enough trouble.

I glanced at her. "Let me at least do something," I offered, but she fixed me with a piercing gaze, her green eyes narrowing and her mauve lips pursed in irritation. Folding her arms, she challenged me with an arched eyebrow. "Do something?" she questioned, her tone laced with skepticism. "Perhaps you'd like to lick your silly drink off his chest?"

The guy, who had been on the receiving end of my beverage mishap, chimed in with a half-amused, half-authoritative tone, addressing the woman. "Go order her another one," he suggested, trying to defuse the situation. "You don't have to boss your girl around because of my clumsy mistake."

"She's not my girl," he stated, shooting a withering look at the woman, and then he turned his intense gaze on me. "So, what's the drink that gets to grace my wardrobe today?"

I was utterly bewildered. "What's the drink?" the woman snapped, her irritation palpable. Who were these two? Some power-couple from the corporate world, dressed and acting like they owned San Francisco?

"Matcha Frap," I hurriedly replied, eager to move past this bizarre encounter and return to the safety of my computer, waiting for them to call my real name this time.

"Name?" she asked, her arms folded, understandably irritated.

"Um, right, it's-" I began.

"Any Position," the man interjected in the same commanding tone he'd used earlier with his friend. "Isn't that what they called before you turned my suit green?"

"Annie," I managed to say, forcing a smile even though my cheeks felt like they were on fire from embarrassment.

"Nice name," he replied, dabbing at the stained shirt.

"Are you naturally friendly to strangers who ruin your wardrobe but not so kind to your friends?" I gestured towards the blonde with mauve lips who was still giving me an icy glare from the line.

"I'm feeling surprisingly forgiving for someone who seems to be having a rough day," he continued, his turquoise-blue eyes making my heart race.

"It's kind of you to assume that," I replied with a half-smile. "And what about your friend? Why's she stuck with my mess?"

"Long story," he said with a smile. "She'll get over it, trust me."

"Well, I am sorry about this," I sighed, feeling a mix of relief and awkwardness. "I'll just go wait over there." I pointed towards my laptop. "I have, like, five minutes at most to submit my essay now."

"That's all the more reason why my friend," he said, shifting his gaze between the woman and me, "is going to place your order."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Thanks again." He was impossibly good-looking, and there was no way I was going to look back at him or take my eyes off my computer screen, where the black-haired god had given the coffee shop a major upgrade in the looks department when he walked in.

I hit the "send" button on my essay with just a minute to spare and waited for the satisfying swoosh sound in my email. Finally, I could collapse back into the booth, my nerves on edge from the whirlwind of events. By the time I collected myself, my attempt at a humorous alias was called again, and the mysterious couple had vanished without a trace.

Thank goodness the coffee shop was still buzzing with activity, but I was ready to make my exit. I needed to head back to my hotel room to unwind. I had plans to meet up with some old high school friends who lived in the area tonight, and right now, a drink-or maybe ten, or twenty-sounded like a great idea. Then again, maybe not. Tomorrow was my cousin's wedding, and I couldn't afford to be hungover while enduring the superficial ceremony I was obligated to attend on behalf of both myself and my dad. He definitely owed me for this. Big time.

I adjusted the back strap of my heels on my left foot, trying to alleviate the discomfort caused by the new stilettos I had reluctantly chosen for this weekend. They were meant to match the burgundy dress I'd be wearing to the wedding, and I had decided to break them in tonight. Comfort clearly wasn't part of the deal with these pricey shoes, which I shouldn't have let the sales associate talk me into buying.

With one last look at my strapless bandage dress, I was ready to go. I attempted to pull my natural waves into a more put-together look, but it was futile. "Forget it. It's not like I'm out here to impress anyone tonight," I chuckled at the thought. Time to move on to part one of my San Francisco trip-hanging out at a rooftop club with friends I hadn't seen since high school.

The Uber dropped me off in front of an exceptionally posh hotel, brilliantly illuminated and exuding an aura of wealth and influence from its grand entrance. Flags from around the world hung proudly above the doorway, and the lineup of luxury cars made my modest Uber choice seem entirely out of place. "What in the world?" I muttered to myself.

"You might run into a celebrity," the Uber driver commented with a wink.

"Good grief," I replied as I stepped out of the car. I navigated through the bustling crowd and the opulence that surrounded me, determined to find my friends as quickly as possible.

"Aurora Taylor," I told the concierge, following Ash's instructions for when I arrived. "Miss Taylor," he acknowledged, shuffling through some papers. "Will you be staying with us tonight?"

"I'm here to meet friends at a rooftop lounge," I replied, keeping my voice low.

He reached for a pen to scroll through a screen in front of him. "I see," he said, then beckoned someone named Richard over. "Please, escort Miss Taylor to her party on the top."

As the elevator doors whisked me away to my destination, I couldn't help but feel thankful for at least having chosen expensive heels. The atmosphere on the rooftop was electric, but clearly tailored to a more affluent clientele. I followed Richard to the outdoor area, where my name was called, and I finally released the breath I'd been holding since I followed him to the elevator.

"Hey," I greeted the three friends I hadn't seen since graduation night. "Aurora Taylor."

Gabby laughed and enveloped me in a warm hug. "You look absolutely fabulous."

Engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, I found myself amidst a long-awaited reunion with my girlfriends. It had been an agonizing six years since we last crossed paths, and the anticipation radiated through the air as we exchanged warm greetings. Ash, beaming with pride, introduced her husband Brent, a tall man with a prematurely receding hairline. The spotlight then shifted to Gabby, who playfully showcased her new flame, Jon. A blond man, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin, stood rigidly by her side. Attempting to alleviate the tension, I offered a supportive smile, acknowledging his discomfort.

Feeling the need to ease myself into the vibrant atmosphere, I quipped about requiring a drink to process the surroundings. Mir, ever the generous soul, insisted on treating me to a drink, reminiscing about the passage of time and our cherished bond. However, I couldn't help but notice a transformation in Mir's persona. The shy and sweet Valedictorian I once knew had evolved into an assertive and confident woman.

Curiosity piqued, I playfully inquired about Mir's current romantic partner. Laughter filled the air as my friends teased me, diverting my attention from the conversation between Brent and Jon. Engrossed in catching up, the girls and I retreated to our own little world, relishing the opportunity to reconnect after all these years.

As the night progressed, Mir revealed the burdens of being a divorced doctor, burdened by student loans that seemed to extend into eternity. The opulent surroundings of the rooftop venue juxtaposed against her financial struggles, leaving me perplexed as to why she would choose such a lavish setting. Mir's enigmatic grin hinted at the conference she had attended earlier that day, and I couldn't help but wonder about the hidden motivations behind her choice.

The atmosphere grew heavy as the topic shifted to my mother's passing two years ago. Ash, clearly uncomfortable, offered her condolences, prompting a wave of emotions to wash over me. Questions about my father's well-being, my relationship status, and my presence in San Francisco came pouring in, overwhelming me with their intensity. Seeking solace, I smiled and confessed that I had been summoned to my cousin's wedding, a gesture of gratitude towards the family who had supported us financially during my mother's illness.

Gabby empathetically sighed, acknowledging the challenges of being surrounded by unfamiliar faces in such situations. While her words resonated, I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from the group. Was it them who had changed, or was it me? Perhaps the ten-year reunion was a breeding ground for people trying to fit into roles they had outgrown.

Summoning my courage, I shared my own journey, revealing the sacrifices I had made to care for my mother, and the uncertainties that lay ahead. The response was mixed, as my friends seemed disinterested in my lackluster plans. The conversation took an unexpected turn, delving into a realm of explicit discussions about orgasms, failed relationships, and the allure of any male specimen that caught our attention. It was as if Brent and Jon had become invisible, fading into the background.

Grateful for the shift in atmosphere, I silently thanked the changing environment for allowing me a moment of respite from the growing discomfort.

As the music crescendoed and the sun dipped below the horizon, my inebriated friends enthusiastically threw themselves onto the dance floor. Sensing that I was stuck amidst their romantic entanglements, I gracefully excused myself, not quite ready to depart from the breathtaking views that surrounded me. Stepping away from the boisterous crowd, I discovered a slice of heaven on the rooftop, offering me an unparalleled vista.

My eyes widened in awe as I beheld the mesmerizing sight before me. The city lights twinkled like a million stars, illuminating the urban landscape in a way that no painting or photograph could capture. It was a sensory experience, feeling the energy of the city and witnessing its grandeur firsthand. In that moment, I yearned to translate this magic onto canvas, to create a painting that would transport others into this enchanting realm.

Lost in my thoughts, a smooth voice interrupted my reverie. Startled, I turned to my right, my drink perilously sloshing in my hand, only to find myself face-to-face with the captivating stranger from the coffee shop earlier. My left ankle weakened, almost causing me to lose my balance, but he swiftly caught my arm, preventing me from stumbling.

Summoning my wits, I chuckled nervously, the overflow of alcohol adding a touch of boldness to my words. "Yeah," I replied, my voice betraying my astonishment. "I guess we do have a bit of a history, don't we?" His gaze flickered down to the cosmopolitan in my hand, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I must admit, pink isn't my color."

The air crackled with a charged energy as he studied my face. My mind raced, trying to find the right words to engage in conversation with this stunning individual. "So, what brings you here tonight?" I asked, attempting to mask my confusion.

He raised an eyebrow, his turquoise eyes sparkling. "Work," he responded, his smile widening. "And did you successfully complete the task I assigned you earlier?"

Surprised by his impeccable memory, I searched for a suitable response. "I did, actually. Thanks for asking." A mixture of curiosity and intrigue swirled within me. Why was this captivating stranger taking an interest in me?

His lips twisted playfully. "How could I forget? The moment I saw you tonight, I couldn't help but think about the girl known as Any Position."

My eyes narrowed, a hint of skepticism coloring my gaze. I couldn't deny the magnetic pull between us, but caution urged me to tread carefully. "And you, Mr...?" I prompted, silently challenging him to reveal more about himself.

His eyes glistened with mischief, and a thrill coursed through my veins. "I am here on business," he admitted, his voice tinged with intrigue. "And perhaps, I was hoping to have a little fun during my trip."

My body tingled with electric anticipation, his irresistible charm and allure enveloping me. Yet, I resolutely reminded myself that I would not succumb to becoming a home wrecker, especially after innocently meeting friends at a bar. I needed to maintain my composure, even if the alcohol blurred my judgment.

A smile played on my lips as I responded, my voice laced with regret. "I'm afraid I can't assist you in that endeavor."

He sighed softly, his voice dropping to a seductive timbre. "What a shame. I was hoping to find the one person not under the influence, someone with whom I could enjoy this breathtaking view."

I returned his smile, determined to preserve my outward confidence, even in the face of this dangerously attractive man. Goodness, he was undeniably handsome. The shadow of stubble along his jaw only accentuated the perfection of his chiseled features. His tousled, jet-black hair hinted at a hint of rebellion, while his piercing eyes seemed to peer into the depths of my soul. Glancing at his muscular frame, emphasized by the snug ribbed sweater he wore, my dormant femininity stirred awake, awakening a desire that I had long suppressed.

"Yes," I sighed, attempting to gather my thoughts while desperately wishing for a refreshing glass of water to clear the haze of alcohol from my mind. "The views truly are breathtaking," he remarked, his gaze fixed on the cityscape. "May I inquire as to why you've chosen to escape the company of the women I observed you with earlier?"

"Playing the role of a spy, are we?" I playfully teased, my curiosity piqued by his enigmatic presence. He moistened his lips, a seductive smile spreading across his face, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "If appreciating a beautiful woman amidst the chaotic atmosphere of this late-night revelry qualifies as spying, then I suppose I've become quite the spy."

"Toxic atmosphere?" I chuckled, amused by his choice of words. "And who exactly are you, anyway?" He took a sip from his glass, which I assumed to be filled with scotch. "A man who would rather not be here this weekend," he confessed, his gaze scanning the opulent rooftop surroundings. "I have zero interest in indulging in the senseless conference I was coerced into attending today, even with the perks that accompany it."

Leaning against the ledge, I allowed the crisp air to continue clearing my thoughts as I engaged in conversation with this captivating mystery man. "So, I assume that means you were also subjected to the medical conference or whatever the hell my friend Mir called it? Shame you're not a woman, because the keynote speaker seemed to have made the entire week's worth of conferences bearable, or so I've heard."

He chuckled, his laughter a melody that danced through the air. "Is that so? I found the speaker to be utterly dull and mind-numbingly boring." "So, you're a doctor then?" I asked, his intense gaze causing a flicker of anticipation to dance within me. "I'm beginning to question my love for that particular profession after today."

"What the hell?" I exclaimed, taken aback by his statement. "I'm just messing with you," he laughed, signaling for a waiter to approach our table. "Can we get..." he glanced at me, his expression inquisitive. "What are you having? The medical group hosting this extravaganza is footing the bill."

"Water," I stated simply, my desire for clarity and sobriety outweighing any desire for another alcoholic indulgence. "Extravaganza?" he repeated, a lighthearted twinkle in his eyes. "And water?" His eyes crinkled with amusement. "Believe me, the group responsible for organizing this event can afford it."

"I'm not being modest," I smiled at the waiter, grateful for the respite from the intensity of our conversation. "I'll have water, please." "Water for the lovely lady, and another scotch for me," he instructed the waiter, who bowed and retreated, leaving Mr. Gorgeous and me to resume our discussion.

"So, am I to assume that I won't receive a name other than Annie?" he asked, studying me intently. "Why don't we simply stick with Annie?" I suggested with a smile. "Let's face it; we're complete strangers, and I highly doubt this interaction will progress beyond venting about this ostentatious party we find ourselves in."

"Alright, no names then," he agreed, his gaze never leaving mine. "But what if this conversation were to progress beyond our shared disdain for this pretentious gathering?" Ah, there it was. He wasn't here for idle chit-chat. Why did I even entertain the notion? He was undeniably attractive, an arrogant doctor who, like my friends, was likely scouting for a potential connection. I was now clear-headed enough to recognize the superficiality of my own desires, driven solely by his physical appearance.

"I'm going to have to decline that offer," I responded, a smile playing on my lips as I took a sip of water. "And there goes my self-esteem," he mockingly placed a hand over his heart. "I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding numerous women up here who would gladly accept that offer."

"I'm not interested in any of the women up here," he admitted with a charming smile. "As I mentioned, I'm just here, and I've been keeping an eye on you tonight because you're the most attractive woman in the club."

While I appreciated the compliment, I gently patted his arm, realizing that this guy was clearly in excellent shape. "Thanks, but I really should be heading out."

He chuckled and stood. "Let me call for your ride."

I resisted the urge to say that I had an Uber on the way and instead pulled out my phone to confirm the ride request. I needed to get out of there before I made a more significant mistake with this guy than just spilling a drink on him earlier.

"Then I guess you're leaving me to the wolves," he said, his lips forming an irresistibly handsome frown.

I hadn't been intimate with anyone in over a year, so the idea of a one-night stand with a stranger, no strings attached, didn't seem like it would send me straight to hell, right? He leaned in, and his fingers traced down my arms. "It's been nice seeing you. I only wish it could have been more than small talk." His lips grazed my ear as he whispered, and I found myself momentarily unable to respond. His cologne, his warm breath on my neck, and that devilish grin left me paralyzed. Then he left me standing on the balcony, cursing myself for always playing it safe and being too proper all the time.

For a moment, I wanted to chase after him and tell him that I was open to whatever he had in mind. We were both strangers from out of town, and we'd never see each other again. A few more drinks, and I wouldn't have cared about the consequences. I'd never been one to be approached by guys, but here I was, at the top of the city with the most handsome man I'd ever encountered, and I'd just turned him down?

I took a step in the direction he'd gone, but then my phone buzzed with a text from my dad.

Dad: Hey, kiddo. You never called. I hope everything is well and you had a good visit with your friends today. Don't go too wild.

I smiled at my dad's message. It brought me back to my senses. Here I was, on the verge of hooking up with a guy I barely knew because he was attractive, and my meetup with friends had been a disappointment. I had no idea where the hell the girls or their men were at this point, and I had to attend that wedding tomorrow. This reunion felt like a complete waste of time, and I almost threw away the entire reason I'd come up here just because some good-looking guy wanted more than friendship for the night.

Rory: Yep. Heading back to my room now. I'll text you tomorrow after the wedding. See you on Sunday night. :)

Dad: Love you, kid.

With my dad's message, I regained my sense of responsibility and decided to head back to my room, leaving behind the temptation of the handsome stranger and the allure of a reckless night.

Rory

After a night of overthinking my encounter with Mr. Gorgeous, I woke up with a clearer mind. San Francisco had stirred up a side of me I didn't know existed, a bold side that entertained the idea of missing out on a casual fling with a stranger. But that was far from the truth. Now, as I prepared to attend a wedding with unfamiliar faces as a gesture of thanks to my unwell father, a rush of thoughts flooded my mind.

First and foremost, I couldn't shake off the worry about my dad's health. His constant fatigue was a cause for concern, especially considering his age of sixty-five. And his recent habit of indulging in fast-food breakfasts with his classic car buddies only added to the worry. No matter how hard I tried to encourage healthy eating, he remained stubborn. The mention of my mother's losing battle with cancer by my so-called friends only intensified my determination not to lose my dad too. It was high time he went for a long-overdue check-up, and I planned to make him face the reality. The stubborn man owed me, and I knew just how to make him pay up.

Secondly, it struck me as amusing how I had gone out with friends and ended up leaving early after failing to locate them. And now, checking my phone in the morning, there was still no word from any of them. Ping. Mir's name appeared on the screen as if my thoughts had summoned her text. "Finally," I muttered, setting down my mascara and opening the message.

Mir: Hey. I couldn't find you last night. I'm so sorry we ditched you. I was so wasted and woke up in bed with a stranger! Did you see who I was with? Plz god, tell me WTF I did last night.

I glanced at the phone, suppressing a smile. Perhaps I had been out of touch with reality for too long. Going out of town for a random wedding seemed to have transported me to the Twilight Zone.

Rory: Hey. No, I couldn't find you guys after you hit the dance floor. Are you okay?

Mir: I need to get tested. Fuck. I was so messed up last night.

I ran my fingernail over my bottom teeth, unsure how to respond. I empathized with Mir's predicament, but my mind was still entangled with the memory of encountering the attractive Mr. Gorgeous twice in a day, with him hinting at a similar encounter for me. I couldn't judge Mir.

Rory: You'll be fine. Get tested, though. Did anyone see you leave with him? Do you think someone tampered with your drink?

Mir: No. This is all on me. Apparently, I was so wasted that I grabbed some guy off the dance floor and announced to everyone that I was going to sleep with him. I feel like such an idiot. He's in the shower. I think I should leave. What the fuck am I supposed to say? They disappeared on the dance floor, and after my conversation with Mr. Gorgeous-Mr. G-I couldn't find them to let them know I was leaving. What a bizarre night, and now this text?

Rory: Sorry, I couldn't find you guys, so I left. I have the wedding to attend today. Keep me updated if you can.

Mir: Sorry for leaving you hanging. It was nice catching up. I'll get through this. Take care, Aurora.

Rory: You too. Thanks for inviting me out. I hope everything works out for you.

Mir: Well, it's not the first time I've slept with a random guy. It just sucks waking up hungover and not knowing how it all happened. See ya.

I couldn't help but immerse myself in the conversation about my friend's eventful night, nodding and sympathizing as she expressed her regret and guilt over her drunken rendezvous. But deep down, I knew this wasn't my game to play. I had a mission for the day, a purpose that overshadowed any lingering tales of wild nights.

Today, I was determined to leave behind the strange occurrences of the morning and fully embrace the present. I had made a commitment to attend this wedding, to show gratitude to my distant cousins, the Johnsons, for their unwavering support during my mother's illness. The extent of my parents' relationship with these people remained a mystery to me, but I resolved to put my best foot forward and revel in the celebration of a cousin I had shared countless childhood memories with. From playing with Barbies to navigating the ups and downs of life, we had been there for each other, and now it was time to honor that bond.

Leaving my phone charging in the vanity area, the music still faintly playing, I danced my way over to my closet. With anticipation, I pulled out the short slip dress that I had specially chosen for this joyous occasion. It had cost me a pretty penny, but slipping it on, I felt a newfound sense of freshness and beauty. As I ran my hand over my stomach, a wave of relief washed over me, grateful that I didn't feel bloated. The dress hugged my frame perfectly, accentuating my features. The burgundy color held a soft shimmer under the warm glow of my hotel room, making my skin appear as though it had been kissed by the sun. I couldn't help but silently thank my best guy friend, Clay, who had an impeccable sense of fashion. His expertise had guided me in choosing this outfit, and I couldn't have been more pleased with the result. Let's not forget Joe, his boyfriend, who had worked his magic on my hair, adding those soft red highlights and layers that transformed my chestnut locks into a work of art. Truly, I owed them both a debt of gratitude.

Covering my chest self-consciously, I stepped out of the Uber and found myself in front of the same hotel I had been at the previous night. What a coincidence! I couldn't help but laugh at the irony, realizing that I would likely be ascending to the rooftop once again for the reception. It made perfect sense, of course. This was the go-to spot for the wealthy, and the Johnsons certainly fell into that category. After generously tipping the driver, I confidently stepped out, my hand instinctively covering the deep V-neckline of my dress as I noticed a few men casting appreciative glances at my cleavage.

Making my way through the grand entrance of the hotel, I joined the flow of guests traversing the opulent lobby. The enticing scent of lilies filled the air, leading me to the breathtakingly decorated wedding ballroom. My senses were overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and impeccable design that surrounded me. God-dang, this was a masterpiece! It was as if an artist had poured their heart and soul into creating an atmosphere of love, making even a solitary soul like me yearn to be in the arms of my one true love, basking in the splendor of such grandeur. Every detail was executed with precision and elegance, from the delicate candlelight to the graceful arches of flowers adorning the walls. Diamond-like vases held lush greenery that sparkled under the carefully placed lights. It was more than just decor; it was a true work of art. Serenity washed over me, and a genuine smile spread across my face, as if the aura of true love had embraced me, wrapping me in its warm embrace.

"Third time's a charm." A voice I recognized snapped me out of my daze as I stood at the entrance, waiting to be escorted to my seat. Could this really be happening? Was Mr. Gorgeous somehow appearing at the wedding with me? I looked at him, my breath catching, and placed my hand on his arm as he reached out to me. He had transformed into a model straight out of a wedding magazine, his silver vest beneath the black tuxedo and that dazzling smile completing the aura of love that seemed to envelop this place.

He leaned in closer to me. "You don't have to say anything. I was just as speechless when I saw you at the entrance. You look..." He paused, that sexy smile lighting up his ocean-blue eyes. "Yeah," I managed to swallow hard.

"What are the odds of us meeting here?" I chuckled. "Maybe it's fate."

"Perhaps," he said, standing tall and leading me down the aisle where the ushers were seating guests. "Maybe you and I will discover more later." I couldn't help but smile at him, completely lost in his beautiful face, though I needed to keep walking to avoid tripping in these heels.

"I'm actually with the bride's guests," I informed him when he guided me to a seat on the right.

"That's all well and good," he replied, "but I'll have the best view of you during the wedding if you're seated with the groom's guests."

"Nice try," I flirted back, feeling a bit giddy from the wedding atmosphere. "I'm with the bride."

"I beg to differ," he said with a smile. "You're officially with me, which makes you a part of the groom's family."

"Who are you?" I whispered with a laugh, feeling a strange sense of connection with this handsome stranger. His smooth voice and those captivating eyes were doing something to me. How had I managed to capture his attention? Why was I randomly running into him for the third time? This just didn't happen, especially not to me.

"Fine," I conceded, my heart racing as I got caught in his seductive gaze. "You can explain your blunder to the bride later. She'll never know."

He winked at me as I made my way to the seat he'd directed me to. "I look forward to seeing you at the reception," he said before turning to resume his wedding duties alongside the other impeccably dressed men.

I couldn't help but wonder how wealthy this family was as I spotted Mr. Johnson, the father of the bride. My mind was spinning from my encounter with Mr. G. Yes, absolutely, I was on some kind of surreal high from seeing him again. I couldn't wait for this ceremony to end so I could find him on the dance floor. There was something about him that drew me in, whether it was his stunning good looks or the fact that he had awakened something inside me. But for now, I had my own responsibilities to attend to at this wedding.

Navigating through the sea of fashionable guests, I had one mission: find Mr. Johnson and hope that he even remembered my presence. Glancing around, I couldn't help but appreciate the romantic atmosphere that surrounded me. Clay and Joe would have been in awe of this place, surpassing even my wildest artistic dreams. It was a scene that demanded to be captured and shared, and I decided to discreetly text Clay to express my thoughts.

Rory: This place looks like I'm at some royal ceremony. I love you for helping me with my outfit.

Clay: I told you. Now, own it like the gorgeous babe you are. Xoxo! We want pics and details when you get home, girl.

Clay's enthusiasm and support shone through his message, and I made a mental note to treat him and Joe to dinner for their invaluable assistance. Left to my own devices, I might have been hiding in a corner, wearing a simple cotton dress. But my friends were having none of that once they learned I was attending a wedding at the Fairmont.

As the music changed, I settled confidently into my seat, ready to witness the ceremony unfold. The groom and his groomsmen made their entrance, and they stood on a stage adorned with flowers and sparkles. Among them, the man without a name, the one who seemed to have stepped out of a dream and into my life, stood out. He was taller than the rest, and his gaze locked onto mine. I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about this surreal situation.

My mind was still preoccupied with how I had managed to capture his attention, despite committing the most annoying social blunder-spilling a drink on him. His eyes shifted away from mine, and an intriguing expression crossed his face as he glanced towards the back of the room. A challenging smile played on his lips, prompting me to turn back and see the woman who had been with him at the coffee shop, the one he had mentioned owed him.

She had her blonde hair elegantly pulled up into a fashionable bun, her eyes fixed on Mr. G. Her cheeks were flushed red, her green eyes sparkling, and her silver gown matched the extravagant setting perfectly. She appeared just as captivated by him as I was. Who wouldn't be? Who could have imagined a groomsman stealing the spotlight from the bride?

I glanced around and couldn't help but smile as I noticed all the young women my age stealing glances at the Greek god standing there, impeccably dressed in his tuxedo. My heart raced with excitement as the bridal march began, and we all stood to turn and acknowledge the bride. But with my height, I knew I wouldn't get a glimpse of my cousin walking down the aisle.

So, I turned to look over my shoulder, my curiosity more piqued by the enigmatic man than my cousin's procession. My breath caught when I saw his smile, and his eyes were on me, not the bride making her entrance. He suppressed a grin, and my heart felt like it was attempting a daring escape from my chest, heading straight to where he stood, regal and irresistibly attractive.

I realized I was acting like a lovesick fool, utterly captivated by this mysterious man. It was time to stop gawking at him and figure out exactly who he was. I was determined to follow through with whatever was meant to happen. Meeting him for the third time had to be a charm, and I was ready for whatever came next.

The wedding ceremony possessed a quaint charm, evoking a sense of old-fashioned romance with its scripted vows and traditional rituals. Despite the formalities of the vows, the songs, and the prayers, love permeated the air, casting a spell of beauty over the entire event. As the organizers directed the attendees to the reception area in the grand hotel, my initial apprehension about attending the wedding reception alone was replaced by a growing excitement to reconnect with Mr. G. However, I had to remind myself of my primary objective.

Regardless of the captivating presence of the handsome man standing among the groomsmen, I remained focused on the reason why I had come here. The rest could be sorted out later.

The reception hall differed from the rooftop ambiance of the previous night. It exuded a more sophisticated atmosphere, adorned in silver and black decor enhanced by opulent floral arrangements and cascading greenery, complemented by the soft glow of iridescent lighting. Each table, covered in shimmering silver cloth, boasted an arrangement of candles within a unique rectangular glass holder. A meticulously calligraphed card labeled "Table twenty-one" gleamed against a foil background. The crystal vases holding the fragrant flowers hinted at their considerable cost, easily surpassing a hundred dollars per arrangement. My lips twisted as I pondered whether I would be the lone occupant at what seemed to be the leftover guests' table, prompting a wave of nervousness to wash over me. No, I refused to succumb to the insecurities of Ashely Taylor, the version of myself who had initially attempted to avoid attending this event. The confident Aurora within me would approach the Johnsons with grace, expressing gratitude for their support of my family, even if I hardly knew them. I had last seen any of them when I was a mere three years old, and my memory was far from reliable. How could they expect me to remember a cousin from twenty-five years ago?

Lost in my thoughts, I was startled by a young man's voice, pulling me back to the present. I absentmindedly sipped the wine that had been poured for me upon settling at the table alone. "I was seated here," he remarked, a hint of concern in his voice. "I hope I'm not taking anyone's place." I turned to face him, greeted by his youthful charm, hazel eyes that matched his smoothly styled blond hair. He appeared to have recently reached the legal drinking age, and his infectious smile suggested he might make for an engaging conversationalist. "Not that I'm aware of," I replied, offering him a warm smile.

Soon after, a group of five young women arrived at the table, their presence eliciting a mixture of amusement and honesty. "I get so jealous..." one of the girls teased, her voice filled with humor. "Calm down, Beck," a striking redhead chimed in as they settled into their seats. Her gaze roamed around the table, eventually meeting mine and the young man who had joined me before the arrival of the girl squad, donning their revealing, high-end gowns. "Hey there," she greeted, her eyes locked with mine. "Hi," I replied, lifting my chin slightly as I returned her smile. "I'm Aurora. I don't believe you've mentioned your name," I gestured toward the guy seated to my right, indicating his lack of introduction.

"I'm Dave," he introduced himself, displaying evident delight at being the only male amidst a table of stunning women. "I suppose I'm the luckiest man in the room," he chuckled. "You might reconsider that once you experience the company of us single and desperately seeking ladies when the dance floor opens," a captivating woman remarked. Her chestnut eyes and luscious chocolate complexion were enviable traits that I would have given anything to possess. "Yeah," Dave replied, taking a sip of his wine.

Before long, their conversation ignited into a whirlwind of gossip. The girls unleashed a barrage of snide remarks about every aspect of my cousin's ceremony, from the decor to the magnificence of the reception. I was appalled, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and at a loss for words. How could anyone go out of their way to be so malicious? As we finished our sumptuous five-star meal, I found myself yearning to escape this toxic environment, with or without the presence of Mr. G. Sure, we had encountered each other randomly three times now, but there was no real connection. It was all surface-level fun, and I had no desire to prolong my stay beyond expressing my gratitude to the family who had aided mine before bidding them farewell.

It was strange how a setting so aesthetically pleasing could turn sour due to the jealousy-fueled antics of women who found solace in degrading the bride on her special day in a desperate attempt to feel better about their own single status. I rose from my seat, intending to make my way towards the Johnsons, who were seated at the front. However, in that moment, the lights flickered, and the entire room underwent a transformation. Darkness enveloped the space, and spotlights illuminated the vacant dance floor. The bride sat on a chair upon the stage, while the music shifted to a hip tune. Blinking to dispel the stardust from my eyes, I noticed the groom leading a meticulously choreographed dance, with his groomsmen following in perfect sync. They had discarded their jackets, revealing crisp white shirts adorned with suspenders. My hand instinctively covered my mouth as I witnessed Mr. G effortlessly executing some seductive dance moves alongside the others. His smile held a mischievous allure as his body swayed in harmony, captivating the bride's attention. This man was a physical specimen, his muscular physique straining against his button-down shirt. Unlike the others, his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his sculpted forearms. I swiftly pulled out my phone, determined to capture a video of this dance routine that the men must have tirelessly rehearsed for weeks to create such an impressive spectacle for the bride. I was certain that the shallow critics at my table would have something negative to say, but personally, I adored it. The performance was a perfect blend of romance, cheesiness, and endearing charm. While I had previously seen similar displays on social media, witnessing it in person was an entirely different experience. Shifting my focus from Mr. G to my cousin, I joined her in cheering as the men twirled and swayed around her, encapsulating the room with their infectious energy.

The bride was an absolute vision of beauty, and what made her even more stunning was the fact that she was carrying a precious bundle of joy within her. Her white dress was expertly tailored to highlight the gentle curve of her burgeoning belly. I couldn't help but imagine how radiant I would feel if I were ever pregnant. Her long, lustrous black curls bounced with each step, and the diamonds adorning her pinned-up veil twinkled under the spotlight that followed the groom and his entourage as they made their way towards her. Amidst the awe-inspiring sight, the hateful chatter resumed, but thankfully, the wedding planner swiftly moved the reception along.

Before we knew it, it was time for the cake-cutting ceremony, followed by the dreaded tradition of the bouquet toss. I found myself standing in line with countless young women, taking my place next to a spirited, gray-haired lady with vibrant red lips. "Are you going to catch it for me, kid?" she asked in a salty voice. I smirked in response, "I seem to have a knack for repelling these sorts of things." She nudged me playfully, cautioning, "Watch out for those bridesmaids. I hear they can be quite competitive."

Suddenly, and without any warning, the bouquet miraculously landed in my hands. Three women viciously attempted to pry it away from me, but they were promptly apprehended and escorted out by the wedding planner and his team. "Jesus," I muttered, running my fingers over the nail marks on my arms inflicted by the desperate women. I turned to the elderly lady and offered her a warm smile. "Here you go," I said, extending the bouquet towards her. "I caught it for you." I tried to make my exit, but she stopped me with a solemn gaze. "It's yours," she said, raising an eyebrow. "You've earned it, honey."

As I hurriedly made my way back to my table, a loud group of men's voices erupted behind me. I couldn't bear another moment of enduring the shallow antics of these wannabe Housewives of San Fran. "I must say, I'm quite perplexed," Mr. G's velvety voice cut through my frustrated thoughts, capturing my attention as he approached. "Why?" the girls nearly chorused, their faces flushing under his gaze. He looked at the blonde who held the bouquet in her hands. "I've never been so thrilled to catch the garter so that I could partake in a photograph with my future wife," he said with a grin. The blonde exhaled confidently, making her way towards his irresistible smirk. "I guess that's what it means, right?" she asked. "That's exactly what it means. Allow me," he said, gently taking the bouquet from her. "This doesn't particularly belong to you, whether it was handed down or not."

Oh, great! After enduring the company of these girls at the table since the beginning of the reception, I had a sinking feeling that they were capable of ordering a hit on me if this guy did what I suspected he was about to do.

"Annie?" he raised an eyebrow, extending the bouquet towards me. "We need to take some pictures together."

"I'm good," I replied, my lips tightening, feeling the burning gazes directed at me. I wanted no part in any of this.

"I disagree," he retorted, locking me into a trance with his intense stare. "You can give it to one of these ladies later, but for now, you and I are the ones who will be talked about as the next ones to tie the knot. I can't think of a more stunning woman in this room to be in this situation with."

"Go," Dave interjected. "Sheesh, you're pissing off the entire table."

I looked at him, disbelief written across my face as I stood up. "Sorry. Let's go take our pictures," I said, linking my arm with the guy. As we walked away from the group, he pulled me aside, moving us away from the commotion.

"How on earth did you end up seated with the bride's sworn enemies?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and amusement in his voice.

"My future husband," I played along, noticing his smile. "He's part of the wedding party and didn't bother to ensure I was seated with the groom's guests."

"What an ass," Mr. G remarked.

"Yeah, he thought it would be hilarious after I refused to sleep with him last night," I revealed. That caught Mr. G off guard. He almost stumbled but quickly regained his composure.

"Well, perhaps you should have given in," he suggested, taking my hand and placing the flowers in it. "After all, he did have to endure this penguin suit."

Our eyes locked in an unspoken banter as the photographer captured our picture. "He's the one who accepted the job, being a good friend and all," I responded, allowing him to lead me to the side while the newlyweds took the floor for their first dance.

"You seem to have forgotten that he was coerced into this whole ordeal," Mr. G noted.

"Hmm," I smiled, watching the bride and groom sway to the music. "I don't recall him mentioning he was part of the wedding."

"Wow," Mr. Gorgeous played along. "He really is a jerk."

"Yep," I agreed. "Leaves me to fend for myself. That's why I'll probably leave him to deal with the rest of this once I pay my respects to the family I actually came here for."

"You weren't impressed by his dancing skills, then?" Mr. G inquired.

"Not even a little bit," I replied. "Well, I can't blame you. He only learned it a day ago."

"Quite the talent," I commented, scanning the room for the Johnsons while engaging in conversation with this magnetic stranger. "Well, save a dance for me," he said before disappearing into the crowd.

Alright. I had no intention of returning to my table, so I sought out the older woman to whom I was determined to give the flowers. Gorgeous guy or not, I was done with this entire wedding affair. Finally, I found her, seated with the Johnsons. Killing two birds with one stone.

"Aurora Taylor?" Mr. Johnson's gray eyes met mine as he stood up. "You look absolutely fantastic, my dear."

"These are for that lovely lady over there," I said, handing the flowers to him and pointing towards the elderly woman engaged in conversation with, presumably, his wife. "It's great to see you. My dad sends his best wishes, but he hasn't been feeling well lately."

"I'll give these to my mother," he replied, reaching over to place the bouquet on the table.

"Is he still struggling after your mother's passing?" Mr. Johnson inquired with genuine concern, standing up from his seat. I flashed him a grateful smile, appreciating his kind-heartedness.

"He's just stubborn, doing his own thing," I responded, trying to brush off the weight of the topic. "It could be his way of grieving, but let's not bring that up."

He nodded understandingly. "We are so grateful for all you've done and so excited for today," I added, wanting to express my gratitude.

"Well, I'm honored you accepted, sweetheart," Mr. Johnson replied warmly. "I have a dance with my daughter. I'll catch up with Mark in the morning. Good to see you, kid."

I nodded, bidding him farewell as he gracefully made his way through the crowd towards his daughter. Lost in my thoughts, I stood there alone until a sudden interlocking of fingers startled me. I turned to find Mr. G by my side, as if we were a serious couple, leaving behind the playful banter of the husband-wife charade.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice soft and curious.

"Holding your hand, waiting for our dance, of course," he replied, his tone filled with confidence.

"You are quite bold," I remarked, slightly taken aback by his audacity.

"Listen, it was nice, but I seriously need to get out of here," I confessed, feeling the overwhelming desire to escape the chaos of the wedding.

"You're not leaving me again," Mr. G stated firmly. "I lost you once-last night-after not being at my best. I'm not losing you again."

His words struck a chord within me, and I couldn't help but be intrigued. "Funny," I responded, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. "If you want to play this game, then who the hell are you?"

His gaze traveled down to where I stood, considerably shorter than him even with my heels. "Most people call me Cole," he revealed. "And you?"

"Most people call me Rory," I replied, my smile widening. With each word that escaped his lips, he managed to loosen the imaginary tension that had gripped me since the start of this charade. "But to the people I've just met, I'm Aurora."

"Well, since we both confirmed our husband-and-wife future back there, I believe I'll stick with Rory," he said, his confidence unwavering.

"You are presumptuous, aren't you?" I commented, both impressed and amused by his boldness.

"I get what I want, yes," he admitted, flashing a mischievous grin that somehow didn't come off as arrogant.

"And if you don't?" I challenged, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Trust me," he replied, his eyes locking onto mine. "I'll have you in my bed tonight."

His words sent a wave of heat rushing through me, melting any resistance I had. I found myself inexplicably drawn to his sultry voice, his daring smile, and his captivating ocean-blue eyes. I was powerless to resist.

I couldn't find a response to his bold statement, but the arousal he had aroused within me told me that I might just be the one sending the morning-after text, not the other way around. This was a guy I knew I would regret not being intimate with, rather than the opposite.

The music changed, the atmosphere shifted, and before I knew it, I was in his arms, twirling gracefully on the dance floor. In that moment, I silently thanked my mother for insisting I take dance classes, even though I had initially protested.

With each salsa and tango move he effortlessly led me through, we fell into perfect step. Though we were having fun, we managed to avoid causing too much of a scene. For the first time in a long while, I felt liberated and carefree.

We laughed together, indulging in silly dance moves, and in that fleeting moment, I was transported to a world of spontaneity and excitement with this enigmatic man named Cole.

I held onto this newfound feeling of freedom tightly. The best part was that he didn't know who I was. I didn't have to see him pretending to care about my dad and me, asking about my mom's death. That's what this trip had become-a constant reminder of her passing whenever someone asked about us. I still didn't have a good answer, and it made me angry, which wasn't fair to those who genuinely cared. It was a struggle.

Part of me couldn't accept that my mom had lost her battle with cancer. Now, I understood why my dad had reservations about coming to this wedding. This trip was bringing up painful emotions.

Yet, as I twirled on the dance floor, held by Cole's strong hands, I felt an unexpected sense of healing. It was like he had the power to soothe the wounds this trip had reopened. It was strange that our first meeting, caused by me spilling a drink on him, had led to this moment.

The intriguing part was that Cole was used to getting what he wanted, and now he might finally get it. But this time, it was what I wanted. If I considered being with him, it would be for my own sake, not his. And given how attractive he was, it was unlikely he'd be upset if we had a passionate night together and then went our separate ways.