Billionaire's Accidental Wife

Chapter 21

Chapter 21 “Maybe he had a reason, dear,” Jane muttered. “It’s not too late to do that, is it?” Catherine

asked, righteous indignation lighting up her face. “He shouldn’t get away with that! But I can talk to him

and slap the asshole in the face for you.

That’s her, Catherine: valiant champion of underdogs everywhere. She felt a rush of affection for her

best friend and gave her a little shoulder shove. “I saw him earlier, in my sister-fiancée’s mansion.”

“Woah! My Dave? The asshole didn’t even bother to see me?” Catherine asked. “I ignored the hell out

of him and he offered me a job.” Jane smirked. “I know where this is going.” “Trust me, Jane, I’m going

to make him pay for hurting the hell out of me.”

Catherine sighed, “Ah, that smarmy jerkwad would just have an excuse ready and waiting. Believe me,

he’s agreed with so many of his advisors’ opinions that the man thinks the sun shines out of his ass

and is responsible for our temperate London climate.” Jane made a sympathetic noise. “That sucks.

Sorry, it’s so hard right now.”

“He’ll get what’s coming to him eventually,” Chelsea prophesied, though she wasn’t sure how that was

ever going to happen, especially when she had trouble getting him to just leave her alone. Maybe an

intervention by the alien? “Catherine, I don’t want to spend this whole evening moaning about Dave.

Let’s talk about something happy, like kittens or my imminent business success or how cute you look in

that dress. Present from Shawn?” “Bought this one myself, actually,” Catherine said proudly. “From a

designer, I discovered while we were in Paris. Although—” and her eyes sparkled with mischief-“you

could say that what I’m wearing underneath is a present for Shawn. From me, and indirectly, from you.”

“You go, girl!” Jane said. “Damn, but I remember when it was like pulling teeth to get you to wear my

designs for a man. She later added in a mocking tone, “Chelsea, he’s an asshole,” and “I don’t like him

like that, he’s just my boss,” and “Okay, Chelsea, we slept together and it was amazing, but now he’s

brooding at me like he’s the president of the United States with fake blonde hair”

Jane’s laughter echoed “I never said that, Chelsea,” Catherine said, laughing and giving them both a

playful shove. You’re the one with all the fancy literary references; I just go for my spy shows and the

occasional movie. Though if you’re looking for a hottie, I think Mr. Dark and Broody over there have

been giving you the eye.” Chelsea followed her gaze to a waiter who indeed had a very brooding brow,

with a low tumble of dirty blonde hair, flashing dark eyes and slacks that clung nicely to all his…

attributes.

“Mmm, yummy,” she agreed. “I can’t go hit on someone on the job, though; I get enough people doing

that to me all day long to ever turn it around.” I spared him one last regretful look. Oh, but those

shoulders would look nice framed against my bedspread…” “Girl, we need to find you a distraction,”

Jane said, slinging her arm around Chelsea and Catherine’s shoulders. Catherine added, “Want me to

be your wingman? Shawn’s got a lot of yachting friends that would catch your eye. And possibly also

other parts of your anatomy. So. See anything you like?

Jane laughed again. Chelsea noticed that she was happier and more relaxed these days than she had

ever seen her before in her life. And she was happy for her. Of course, she was. Really.

But it was just hard, sometimes, to realize Jane had gone from the happy-go-lucky friend with a bag of

good advice to the moping downer who needed to be cheered up.

“Jane, how’s that wedding coming along, by the way?” Catherine asked, in a change of topic, so

transparent Chelsea could have used it in manufacturing windows. “Got everything sorted

out?'”

Jane sighed, just slightly put out. “Well, it’s been hard to have another wedding. We had to delay again

because we’re going to be in negotiations with the Koreans in may. It’s just as well, though, since that

timeline works better for my husband-something about being in the third house,” she rolled her eyes

fondly. Woah. When Jane spends time obsessing and overthinking little details, it’s usually not long

before a freakout and tears are on their way. “What kinds of details?” Jane sighed. “Well, I had a little

attack of traditionalism, and I thought: you know what I want? A trousseau! You know, the collection of

linens, clothes, and lingerie that a bride traditionally

“Jane, I know what a trousseau is,” Chelsea said.

“Of course you do, sorry,” Jane said apologetically. “Anyway, and then I had a great big attack of

common sense, and I thought: you know who I want to make mine? Catherine’s designer, of course,

and the two of you. I can’t just arrange everything myself, I need intervention, I need help!”

Catherine said, “Wait, do you need any tips on what companies make good stuff? Shawn can help you

with it.”

Their excitement was palpable. Chelsea felt an answering grin bigger than the Grand Canyon split her

face. This was what she needed to occupy herself. “Oh my god, Jane!” Chelsea grabbed her hands Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

and jumped up and down. “Oh my goodness, I have so many ideas already! This will be the best

trousseau ever, I swear, all the other trousseaus will just go home and cry their little trousseau hearts

out! Oh, yes, I can’t even stop thinking of ideas! Shit, I need to write them down.” Chelsea dropped

Jane’s hand abruptly and began to paw through her purse for her notebook while Catherine called her

designers. Jane was grinning from ear to ear.

It was just possible that they’d had too much champagne.

Maybe. Just putting it out there as a hypothesis.

A while later, after their discussion, Shawn came strolling up to us with the self-satisfied saunter of a

man who has successfully parted several people from their not-terribly-hard earned money for a good

cause. He was accompanied by two other guys, one tall and sandy haired in a rumpled suit, his square

jaw and slight belly making him look like a jock gone to seed. The other one:

—was Dave.

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