Page 38 of The Billionaire's Ride

“Sure,” I say, wondering how the hell I became the troublemaker in all this. Then again, that’s my role in the family. I’m the rebel. The black sheep.

Davina walks away and everyone else seems to be moving along too. Except for Mick who walks over, passing his bride on the way. He looks at her with an adoring smile and kisses her cheek.

“Do you really have a new girlfriend?” Mick asks under his breath.

“No, she’s just. I don’t know . . .”

“Is she nice?”

I nod, not looking at him. “Yeah, she’s a nice girl.”

“Then bring her to the wedding.”

“It’s not like that. She’s going home to the United States. And everyone here expects me to leave with someone, not bringsomeone.” Sometimes, it’s easier to fit the mold you’re in instead of breaking it.

Mick tilts his head. “Since when do you care what anyone thinks?”

Chapter Sixteen

KATE

This isn’t working.

I’ve been on the phone for a couple of hours, and I can’t seem to reach any of my European contacts. Everyone in L.A. and New York is still sleeping. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” I say, sliding my phone across the table. “If I don’t make any headway today, this plan will be a total bust.”

“It’s Sunday morning. Give everyone a chance to finish their mimosas first.” Beau replies, and I get the sense she would love a breakfast cocktail to go with her new job as my assistant and cheerleader for the day.

“I doubt there’s a single decent fabric store open today.”

Then my phone rings, and my stomach knots, thinking it might be Drew, even though I’ve spent the last hour calling everyone in my contacts list. “Who is it?” I ask, reaching for my phone.

Beau’s face lights up. “It’s Jean-Charles.”

Jean-Charles is a very well-known designer of men’s accessories like fine leather belts and silk neckties. He’s also a friend whose wife raves about my lingerie. While he’s French, his operations have always been in England.

“Jean-Charles, hi,” I answer.

“Ah, Kate. I hear you are in London for fashion week.” I resist the urge to ask if he’s heard it through the grapevine or if he saw me in the gossip rags.

“I am, and I need to call in a favor.” He listens quietly as I relay my sudden inspiration and plan without the whole Drew backstory and the very real desperation. I’ve generously sent pieces to his wife over the years, so I’m crossing my fingers that he’ll reciprocate in my time of need.

“Kate, you are in luck. I have a studio on Berwick Street. You can use whatever you need.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Access to Jean-Charles’s sewing machines is huge. “Oh, my gosh. Thank you! How can I get in today?”

“I will meet you there myself. How is two o’clock?”

“Perfect. Do you know where I can purchase good fabrics today?” I ask, tapping my fingertips on my knees while Beau gawks at me wide-eyed like she’s dying to know what he’s saying.

“Silk House. I’ll make a call,” he says.

“Jean-Charles, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Just promise you’ll send over your best pieces for Nadine. Our anniversary is coming up.”

“Of course!”

Jean-Charles must be extremely well connected because within an hour, I’m rifling through the finest silk fabrics and lace. These will be perfect. It isn’t long before Beau and I arrive at Jean-Charles’s studio in Soho. We greet the designer with air kisses before he guides us inside. After a quick tour of the facility, he leaves me in the sewing room with a key, the code, permission to use any threads or fabrics, and his complete confidence.

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