BILLIONAIRE’S RUNAWAY BRIDE
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
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Alfie
Ashburton, England
How did I end up in this bloody wedding?
The small church was alive with chatter. Wedding guests were arriving steadily now as the clock ticked down to when it would start. I’d never been a fan of weddings, but Harry Peterson had asked me to be the best man. I couldn’t tell one of my best mates no—even if it had been over two years since the last time I saw him.
We kept in touch over the years. Harry had traveled to America a few times, even living there for a few years, before coming back to England with Molly Anderson in tow. The two had seemed so sickeningly in love at the time.
And it made all of this shit that much worse.
The door to the small changing room that overlooked the green acres the small church sat upon opened. Loud chatter swept through the room followed by Harry Peterson half dressed with his black coat draped over an arm. His blond hair was slicked back, but it didn’t hide the fact that his eyes were bloodshot and his skin pale. He was still drunk and in a foul mood despite what had happened last night.
“I’m here barely on time no bloody thanks to you,” Harry said, surly. “You’re supposed to be my best mate. That means you get my drunk ass up in time for my own wedding.”
“I told you that I was leaving the pub,” I said and turned back to face the mirror to loop my tie properly. “I left word with your other groomsmen to get you up on time.”
Harry laughed. “Right. Those blokes can barely make it to work on time. I’m damn lucky that my phone went off before the battery died.” He smoothed a hand through his hair. “I’d still be sleeping in that back room at the pub.”
What had happened to my best mate? I scanned his haggard face while he readied himself by fastening his cuff links. Something had changed him after university years ago. He had never been the type of man to party, drink excessively, or cheat on the woman he loves. I had been that type of man then. It was as though our lives had swapped over the years. Harry had left for America, and I stayed in Devon to work on building up my business. Something had shifted.
Loved. I added the mental correction as a fresh wave of anger crashed over me. The damn idiot was going to make a mockery not only out of himself, but the entire wedding if anyone ever found out what had happened the night before.
“You’d still be sleeping with that little love of yours,” I said, succinctly. “Who happens to be, in case you failed to remember, not the woman you are marrying today.”
No trace of remorse or regret filled Harry’s face. He fastened his last cuff link with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I’m aware of that,” he said. “It was a bachelor party. Things like that happen all the time.”
“Not usually,” I said, shaking my head at him. “I don’t understand what the hell you were thinking, but your soon-to-be-wife doesn’t deserve that type of man.”
I kept my face neutral as possible when it came to talking about Molly Anderson. I had only met her once in New York when I had flown in for business two years ago. Her job was in marketing, and she was damn good at it according to Harry. I still couldn’t shake the image I had of her two years ago with her jet black hair tied back in a loose braid, freckles on her tanned skin, and those olive green eyes flashing at him. She had been wearing a pair of high waisted cut-off denim shorts that had showed off those shapely legs and a simple white tank with sunglasses hanging off the front.
You’re a fucking idiot, Harry.
“It’s not really love,” Harry said and dusted off lint from his jacket. “I’m marrying Molly for other reasons besides pleasing Mum and Dad.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “Such as?”
“Molly recently started her own marketing business. It’s damn expensive to run your own business in America, but also internationally. My business is booming.” Harry sighed tiredly as he rubbed at his undoubtedly aching head. “My head is on fire. We both are benefiting from tax deductions here.”
I had a very hard time imagining a woman such as Molly jumping into a marriage for a tax deduction. Then again, I had thought the same of Harry as well, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more of Harry’s brilliant idea.
Harry paused in massaging his temples. He gave me a long and disbelieving looking.
“Is that disappointment I see on your face?”
“Yes,” I said. “I don’t recognize who you even are, Harry. You’re a completely different man than my friend back in university.”
“Oh, please. How can you come down on me for this?” I looked away to adjust my tie one last time. “You were a complete ladies’ man here in England, but also over in New York. How many women have you slept with over the years?”
“More than I care to admit,” I said, tightly. “I grew up too, Harry. I haven’t slept with anyone in over a year.”
Harry arched an eyebrow. “That much is obvious. You’re a real tight ass now, mate.”
“I’ve been busy with my own business,” I gritted out and turned to look at Harry, who rightly looked away. “Don’t mess with me about my past. I’m here because you asked me to be here. I’m just disappointed in you is all.”
“If it comforts you,” Harry said, opening the door when someone knocked on the other side of it, “it’ll be the last time I’ll ever be looking at another woman the way I did last night.”
I didn’t take it to heart. I could see that change in Harry, and it didn’t sit well with me. Years of being in business, I could pick up on deception even among silver tongues. I knew Harry was lying about never cheating on Molly again.
It wasn’t my business though. I didn’t care.
The other groomsmen piled in with loud cheers. I could smell the alcohol wafting off of them as well.
“I can’t believe you’re up,” Jacob, the closest one I sensed, said to Harry. “We thought for sure that you’d be with that love of yours still.”
Harry shushed him as he shut the door shut in case someone walked by. I sat down on the bench away from them while they tried to sober up by drinking water and eating a few tea biscuits one of the groomsmen had found.
“We tried to find you a love last night,” Jacob said and turned to look over at me. He didn’t bother hiding the contempt in his eyes. “You left the celebrations a bit early for the best man.”
“I’ll gladly hand this honor to you,” I said, coldly. I smiled darkly at Jacob. “Although, I’m sure it was your brilliant idea to find a woman for Harry to sleep with.”
Jacob hackled defensively. “Hey, mate. I don’t appreciate the implications behind your words there. Harry has done this on his ow—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said, flatly. “I asked Alfie to be my best man because it’s traditionally childhood friends who have these honors.”
“Whatever,” Jacob quipped and turned to look over at the other groomsmen. “I threw one hell of a bachelor party last night though. At least, I can say that.”
The wedding planner stepped into the room. She glanced over all of us with relief before informing Harry that the groomsmen needed to line up.
“For pictures,” she said. “All of you, chaps. Except for the groom himself and his best man for now.”
They filed out of the room with Jacob giving me one last withering look. I rolled my eyes when the door closed shut. In an hour, the entire ceremony would be over, and I’d gladly slip away from this mess.
Childhood friends. I shoved down the bitter taste in the back of my throat as Harry, a bit nervously, fiddled with various sections of his clothes. There were times to hold onto friendly ties and times to cut them loose. I didn’t want to think of Harry as a tie that I would have to let go of, but I couldn’t stand next to this type of lie.
“I’m sorry that you are disappointed,” Harry said. “People change over time. You know that as well as I do.”
The tone of Harry’s voice suggested otherwise. He didn’t care what I thought. That much was obvious from the bored look he had on his face as he sat down in the chair opposite of me to wait.
“I’m not the one you should be apologizing too,” I said. “Molly would be—”
“Molly doesn’t need to find out about it,” Harry cut in, harshly. He gave me a warning glare that did little to phase me. “Pick a side, Alfie. You’re either on a side with me, or you’re on a side with yourself.”
“I really don’t have much of a choice,” I replied, dryly. “Those groomsmen are pretentious douche bags. I can see them egging you on to behave like a douche bag yourself.”
“For the last time, Molly knew what she was getting into when I asked her to her marry me. She’s a smart woman.” He stared at me coldly. “Do you honestly think this was all my idea today?”
I didn’t bother replying. The wedding planner returned to get us both for pictures and to line up in our places in the chapel.
“I did a lot for you over the years,” Harry said, letting his smile fall when the wedding photographer left. His arm fell away from my shoulders too. “If you want to leave, leave after the wedding. Have the decency to suck it up and pretend.”
“Fine,” I said, coolly. “I’ll put on a smile for you.”
Harry sighed in exasperation. “I’d like to think you’re still my friend and will forgive me once this day is over. This wedding has been stressful.”
I lined up behind Harry while we watched the wedding guests file into the chapel. I could feel dirty looks and glares burning holes into the back of my head from the other groomsmen. I closed my eyes as I prayed for the next hour to fly by. I didn’t want to be a part of this charade any longer.
Once the doors to the chapel closed, we waited for the planner to arrive to tell us to walk down to our places. A few minutes stretched by in intense silence. I shifted my feet anxiously while I waited for the planner to pop up cheerfully as she always did. Except, she never came, and hushed whispers were filling the church.
The doors to the chapel opened up. I leaned forwards to look over Harry’s shoulder to see a flash of magenta fabric. One of the bridesmaids. She rushed down the wedding aisle amid all the whispering.
“What the fuck?” Harry whispered, leaning out to also watch. “What is she doing?”
She turned on a black heel, clutching her small bouquet of flowers, and headed directly toward us. The expression on the girl’s pretty face was plain as a hot summer day. She stepped into the side room where we stood.
“Where’s the wedding planner?” she asked.
“Not in here,” Harry said, shortly. “What is it? What is going on?”
“Are we doing this wedding or not?” Jacob called out, clearly irritated with the stall. “What’s the holdup? I’ve got things to do after this.”
She looked apprehensive when she looked up at Harry. “I can’t find Molly. She isn’t here.”