The Billionaire's One Night Mistake

The door to Suite 3 was locked. Chloe Bennett knocked twice with the toe of her heel, because both hands were full. A garment bag. A coffee for Tessa. Oat milk, extra shot, the way she liked it. "Tessa? It's me. You said ten." Silence. Then a thump. Something heavy hitting the wall. Chloe frowned and tried the handle again. It gave this time, like someone had finally stopped leaning on it. She pushed inside. The room smelled of steam and expensive perfume. Her wedding dress hung on the mannequin by the window, ivory silk with three hundred pearls stitched down the back. Her mother's veil lay across the velvet chair. Tessa stood by the mirrors with her blouse buttoned wrong. Her lipstick was gone. Not smeared. Gone. "Chloe." Too bright. Too high. "You're early." "You said ten. It's ten." Chloe held up the coffee like proof. Her fingers had gone cold around the cup. "Where's the seamstress?" "Bathroom. She'll, um. She'll be right back." Behind the dressing screen, a belt buckle clinked. Chloe's eyes dropped to the floor beneath it. A pair of men's brown loafers. Tassels, polished. She had bought them herself last Christmas. Her stomach fell through the floor. "Julian?" Nothing. Then a cough, fake and thin. "Julian." He stepped out with his shirt untucked and his tie crushed in his fist. His hair was wet at the temples. He tried a smile, and it fell apart on his face. "Hey. Babe. You're early." "Everyone keeps saying that." Chloe's voice came out flat. She hardly recognized it. "Why are you here?" "Dress check. Final sign off. I wanted to see it." He glanced at Tessa. Tessa studied the carpet. "Surprise?" The cup slipped. It hit the floor and the lid popped off. Hot oat milk splashed across her shoes and she did not move. "You wanted to see the dress," Chloe said. "Yeah." "With your shirt off." "Chloe, come on. It's hot in here." She turned to Tessa. "The seamstress. Is she in the bathroom?" Tessa's mouth opened. Closed. Her eyes filled fast, and that was the answer. Julian dropped the act in one breath. "Okay. Okay, listen. Don't make a scene. Not here." "Not here." Chloe laughed once, short and ugly. "Where would you like the scene? Tell me. I'll book it." "Don't be dramatic." "You buttoned your shirt wrong." He looked down. The second button sat in the first hole. His fingers fumbled at it. Those same hands had held hers at her father's funeral eight months ago, and they shook now too. "How long?" she asked. "It's not like that." "How long, Julian?" Tessa wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand. "Since the engagement party." "Tess, shut up," Julian snapped. "My engagement party." Chloe's ears rang. The steamer hissed in the corner, loud as a train. "You held my bouquet. You cried at my toast." "Chloe, I'm so sorry. I never meant." "Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't you dare say you never meant to. You meant it every time you walked in here." She twisted the ring off her finger. The square cut diamond had cost more than her first car. It had always felt too heavy. Now she knew why. Julian stepped closer. "Look. We can fix this. It's the pressure. The wedding. Your dad. It's all been so much." "Do not blame my father." "I'm just saying. We both know you're not exactly easy to love right now." The words landed like a slap. Her cheek burned anyway. "Say that again." "I didn't mean." "Say it." He did not. She walked past him to the mannequin and touched the silk. It was cool under her fingertips and smelled of the shop's lavender spray. She had stood on that platform for four hours last month and cried when the seamstress pinned the waist. Her mother's veil lay on the chair. Chloe picked it up. Then she dropped it on the floor and headed for the door. "Chloe, wait!" Julian's hand closed around her wrist. His palm was damp. "Don't walk out. Think. You can't do this without me. You know that. The company. The board. Gordon said." She froze. "Gordon said what?" His grip loosened. His eyes flicked away, half a second too late. "Nothing. Forget it." "Julian." "He's worried about you. That's all. We all are." Chloe looked at his hand on her wrist. Then at his face. Tessa had gone as white as the dress. "Did Gordon know about this?" she asked, very quietly. "No. I mean. Not like that." "Then like what?" His phone buzzed on the carpet by the loafers. It must have fallen when he came out from behind the screen. Neither of them moved. It buzzed again. "Chloe, don't." She was faster. She snatched it off the floor and turned the screen toward the light. Two messages. Same sender. The first had arrived at 9:52. "She arrives at ten. Make sure she sees you both." Her thumb shook as she scrolled to the second. "Good. Now keep her angry. An angry woman signs whatever I put in front of her." She scrolled up. Dozens of messages. Her fitting dates. Her lawyer's name. The hour she would leave her father's house each morning. Her knees went soft. The room tilted, and she locked her legs against the mannequin's stand to keep from falling. "Give me the phone," Julian said. His voice cracked on the last word. "You told me he was worried." "He is! He just wants what's best for you. For the company." Julian reached for the phone and she stepped back. "What's best for me is a man who texts you my schedule?" Tessa made a small sound behind her. "Chloe, I didn't know about the texts. I swear. Gordon only said Julian would cover my rent." "Shut up, Tessa," Julian hissed. "Say it again." Chloe held the phone up between them. "Say Gordon wanted me to catch you." Julian's throat bobbed. He looked at the door, then at the window, then anywhere but her. "It was never supposed to hurt you," he whispered. "Then what was it supposed to do?" He did not answer. The phone buzzed once more in her hand, and a third message slid onto the screen. Chloe read it. Then she read it again, because the first time her brain refused to hold the words. "Once she's alone, Friday's vote is a formality. Tell her nothing about the trust." She looked at the name above the message. Gordon Vance. Her father's oldest friend.