Page 20 of Bound To Be Mine

“Nope.”

We finished breakfast in relative silence, though I caught him watching me a few times when he thought I wasn’t looking. I wondered what he was thinking, if he was already regretting agreeing to come to Vegas.

When the check came, he grabbed it before I could even reach for my purse.

“I can pay for my own breakfast,” I said.

“I’m aware. But I’m the one who begged for forgiveness and your price was breakfast.”

He signed the receipt and stood, and I followed him out onto the street. The morning had warmed up, and the sidewalk was crowded with people in a hurry.

“I’ll walk you,” he said.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I know.” But he fell into step beside me anyway. I didn’t argue.

When we reached the hotel, I stopped at the entrance and turned to face him. He was taller than I’d realized yesterday, probably six-two or six-three. I had to tilt my head back to look at him properly.

“Thank you for breakfast,” I said. “And for the apology.”

“Thank you for giving me another chance.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t.”

“Goodbye, Briggs.”

I walked inside and that’s when I let the grin spread across my face. He wasn’t so bad. Still arrogant and stupid sexy, but I could work with that.

It all depended on how the wedding went.

7

BRIGGS

The apology had gone better than expected. I was going to ignore the part where my brain short circuited at the sight of her in a bathrobe. The important thing was that by the time we’d finished breakfast, we were all good. Mostly.

What was less good was that I now needed to figure out what to wear to a celebrity wedding in Vegas. If there was a fucking Elvis there, I was going to personally shred the contract.

But as I stood in my closet staring at the neat rows of black and various shades of gray, I realized I had a problem. I dressed for work. People recognized my power and confidence when I stepped into a room in one of my suits.

But a wedding was not a boardroom or a courtroom. I didn’t want to look like an attorney.

So, I had to admit defeat and call the two assholes that knew a little something about fashion. I was representing the Blackwell name. I couldn’t show up in something that made us look bad.

Dash and Sebastian arrived together. Bernadette was working, and Adrian, well, I wasn’t asking him. He was on Daddy Duty.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dash said when I led him to my closet.

Sebastian walked in and let out a low whistle.

“What?” I said.

“This.” Dash gestured at the closet in its entirety. “All of this.”

“Those are my clothes.”