Page 22 of The Good Billionaire

I knew I had shit to fix in our lives, but one thing that had never ruffled any feathers between me and Kennedy was the idea that I would have been unfaithful to her. Perhaps reminding her how lethal I was in bed had her worried what I’d be giving to another woman once I signed those papers.

Fuck, that. I wanted Kennedy.

I wantedmy wife.

Shaking my head, I reached for her hand. “Come with me and we’ll talk to Samantha in the short suit together.”

“Oh, Samantha has the florist guy. They’re setting up in the ballroom,” Zelda announced.

False alarm.

“Photographer is here.” Grayson waltzed in wearing jeans hangingverylow on his hips, no shirt, and bare feet.

“Whoa,” I said to the group of six guys and one woman all dressed in black. “You guys are early.”

“No, Seb.” Kennedy made notes in her wedding planner book. “Savannah wants the whole day captured.”

I watched the lone female in the photography entourage snap photographs of Grayson who stood against the wall flexing his muscles for her.

“How tall are you, handsome?” The woman crouched down with the camera pointed up at Gray like he was Mount Everest.

The woman was cute as hell and the way Grayson posed, fluffing up his shaggy reddish-blond hair, I worried Savannah would be down one photographer in a few minutes.

I snapped my fingers at Aunt Marissa and pointed to the soon-to-be X-rated photoshoot.

“On it,” my aunt said, scampering that way. “Grayson, honey, let’s go find a shirt for you to wear.”

“Was it like this at your parents’ house the day we got married?” I asked Kennedy, tugging her closer.

“No,” she snorted.

I had a vision. If we renewed our vows, I’d be the one with the whistle, cheering for the underdog because Kennedy and I made it work.

But how?

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kennedy

Istared at The Sterling’s ballroom set up and breathtakingly beautiful with red roses, a carved bridal canopy, silver candles on the tables, and a glossy wood stage for the band. Zelda tied emerald green sashes to the backs of silken wrapped chairs singingHere Comes Santa Claus.Her whistle had mysteriously disappeared.

I smiled, fingering it in my pocket.

Savannah and Brandon, who broke with tradition and saw each other before the ceremony were on the roof deck taking pictures by the pool, the lights of the city all gussied up for Christmas sparkled in the background for sure.

I loved how Seb had looked at me in the maid-of-honor gown at the dress shop and now I couldn’t wait for him to see me in it again. He’d stopped seeing me at one time. Since Cal’s surgery, something had awoken in us.Us, I thought. The way we used to be in Maryland, years and years ago. Shoulder to shoulder. Falling asleep together. Waking up together. Spending the day together at Lincoln Hospital.

Warm hands closed around my waist, and it startled me at first, this was the big city after all. But smelling Seb’s aftershave, I relaxed and melted into his chest.

“How did pictures with Brandon go?” I asked him, watching Luke, Tristan, and Grayson all in suits swaggering over to the lobby bar.

“Great. No mountain climbing. And no whistle.” He kissed me, and aw hell, I let him, too worn down and exhausted from stopping him. “God, this dress, I...”

“You’ve seen me naked for the first time in I don’t know how long. And yet, you like me in a dress too?” I threw my arms across his shoulders.

“When you’re naked, you’re just for me. When you’re dressed up and other men look at you, licking their lips, and adjusting their cocks, that gets me crazy.”

“You’re so bad, Sebastian.”

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