Recap:
"Brielle Dalton, will you be my Maid of Honor?"
*
FEBRUARY
Brielle was woken up by the incessant ringing of her phone. She fumbled around in the dark till her fingertips felt the device near the edge of her bed.
That's weird, she thought, staring at the dark screen of her phone.
She was about to pass it off as a dream when the ringing started again. It was the house phone. As much as she wanted to ignore it, it might be an emergency. Or what qualifies as an emergency in hotels, at least. She got out of bed reluctantly and slipped on a robe before heading out of her bedroom.
"Cold, cold, cold," she practically sprinted to pick up the phone. "Hello?"
"Ms Dalton," the Night Manager, spoke quietly. "A certain Mr D'Angelo has been trying to swipe his credit card as a Penthouse access card for the past half hour."
"Mike, stop clowning. Are you fvcking with me right now?"
"I wish I were," he laughed. "I'm sending him up. The Duchess appreciates its' press but not like this. We're lucky it's a quiet night."
"Thank you. Wait, which... never mind. Good night." She wanted to ask which D'Angelo was currently on his way up the elevator but decided it didn't matter. Since that morning in January, neither Ryland nor Christian had left her alone. It was beginning to get annoying.
"Hi," a drunk Christian came stumbling into her suite. "You look good in blue. But I like you better in red."
If Brielle hadn't been holding on to him, he would've fallen flat. He was heavy, but she's had practice. It wasn't the first she'd handled a drunk Christian. They were best friends after all. She practically dragged him across the suite into the guest bedroom.
"Up you go," she deposited him on the bed. "Can you manage from here?"
He snored in response.
"Guess not," She took both his shoes and his socks off and tossed them in the corner. "You better be wearing something underneath those pants, mister, or I swear to God I'll leak that video of you pole dancing."
Again, this wasn't new to her. There was that one time in college when Christian went commando and got absolutely pissed. Let's just say she wasn't too happy with him for giving her an unexpected eyeful. She'd been careful ever since, always slipping a finger beneath the hem of his jeans first to feel for boxers. Thanking all her stars that he was wearing proper underwear, Brie undid his belt and pulled his pants off. All of this sounded so sexual, yet so normal. She removed his dress shirt next, followed by the undershirt. She yanked the blanket up to his chin and headed back to her room.
---
Christian woke up feeling like someone was drilling a hole in his skull with a jackhammer. He sat up and looked around. He doesn't recognize the furniture of the bedroom he was currently in, but for some reason it looked familiar. It took a few seconds before his alcohol fogged brain could figure it out. He was definitely in one of their family's hotels. Which one? He wasn't too sure. Upon wandering out of the room, he found the answer in the form of a 5 foot 4 brunette standing in front of the stove.
"If I didn't see my shirt earlier," his voice made Brie jump. "I'd have thought you took advantage of my inebriated state."
She turned around to see Christian was smirking at her, eyes running her over from head to toe. What a sight she must have been! Messy ponytail, bare face, tank top, sleep shorts and bare feet. She wasn't even wearing a bra! She stopped herself from crossing her arms across her chest. The less attention drawn to her braless state, the better.
"Good morning," he grinned at her. "You look nice. Very natural."
If she hadn't cracked all the eggs from the fridge, she definitely would have thrown one at him. The eggs! She turned back to the stove to remove the pan from the burner.
"Can you maybe get dressed or something?"
"I could say the same about you," Christian padded closer to Brie until he was standing right behind her. His breath warmed the back of her neck. "I could get used to this, you know? Waking up to a hot breakfast and an even hotter wife."
There was a slight pinch in Brie's heart.
"Your grandfather has a stay-in chef," she dished out the eggs and dropped bacon into the pan. "You could always go home. Or you could ask Marie to cook for you. She's going to be your wife pretty soon."
"Marie doesn't cook," you could hear the pout in his voice. "Not unless you qualify cutting up vegetables to make a salad as cooking. Why haven't we ever dated?"
The pinch became a squeeze.
"We tried, remember?" Brie had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. "Junior year in high school. You took me out on a pity date because Marcus William took my virginity on Homecoming and subsequently dumped me the next morning."
Oh, he remembered all right. Christian walked into the boys' locker room that morning to hear William bragging to his friends about making Brie bleed. He was the one bleeding when Christian and Ryland were done with him. They nearly got expelled for it, but it was worth every punch thrown. That weekend, Christian flew her to Prince Edward Island. They've been travelling together every weekend since, even if they did decide that they were better off as just friends. Christian's had many excursions with Brie, that weekend being the most memorable.
"It wasn't a pity date," he grumbled. "You didn't want me, plain and simple."
"I never said that!" she protested. "I said we were good at friendship but terrible at dating. I could never keep up with you."
There was a slightly awkward bout of silence that followed. Christian stepped back to give Brie some breathing space. She continued cooking while he set the table. They've done this dance countless times.
"I need to get back to New York," Christian expressed between bites of blueberry pancakes. "I have a meeting at eight."
"Had," Brie corrected him. "It's past nine."
"What?!"
"It was nearly eight when I woke up," she shrugged. "I'd already managed to hit the pool before cooking breakfast. More coffee?"
Christian handed her his mug as he shoveled bacon and eggs in his mouth.
"Slow down!" She handed him her phone. "Your battery's dead. You can use my phone. Yours is charging in my room."
"I'll call Sasha later," he waved her phone away. "You off today?"
"And tomorrow," Brie shrugged. "I got my weekends back. Perks of being General Manager. I already committed Sundays to Marie, though. Wedding stuff."
"Downfall of being the Maid of Honor," Christian grimaced. "Hey, I really am sorry she sprung that on you. It's not too late to back out, you know?"
"It's fine, Christian," she stared at him above the rim of her coffee mug. "It's your wedding. It's not like I can be best man, right?"
"If only," he sighed. "I knew this wedding sh!t was crazy, I just didn't realize how much."
"Poor baby," she laughed.
Christian came knocking again the following Friday night.
As well as the week after that.
And the week after that.
For the next five weekends, Christian turned up drunk at Brie's door. Every time he appeared, Brie would drag him to the spare room, undress him, and cook him breakfast the next morning.
By the third morning, she knew he was avoiding something... or someone. She had a suspicion who but never voiced it out. Besides, she met with Marie every Sunday and the bride-to-be has never mentioned a missing fiancé.
---
MARCH
"Is he awake?" Ryland asked. Brie had him on speakerphone since she was cooking breakfast. "This is what, the sixth weekend he's turned up?"
"Seventh," she corrected him. "I'm not sure how long I can keep this up."
"Keep what up?"
"This," she stabbed a pancake for emphasis. "Lying to Marie. She finally snapped last weekend. Something along the lines of being the only one interested in this wedding. I couldn't very well tell her that her fiancé has been coming round to my suite to avoid wedding plans. Oh, and he hangs around the suite half naked most of the weekend! I can just imagine how that conversation would go down."
"You say it like you and Christian are doing the nasty," Ryland scoffed. "You aren't, are you?"
"Of course not!" Brielle said indignantly. "You know I don't condone cheating."
"I know, I know. But you're right. That's how it's going to come across, isn't it?"
There was a shuffling behind Brie before a warmth covered her back.
"Morning," Christian mumbled into her neck. "What time did I get home last night?"
"Uhm," Brie was temporarily rendered speechless. Home. He said home, right?
"Good morning, cousin," Ryland's voice was loud and stern. "Haven't seen you home in a while. Been busy with my girlfriend?"
Christian released his hold on Brie and snatched her phone off the counter. He took it off speaker while he walked away with it, having a whispered conversation with Ryland.
"That's my phone," Brie called after him. "Christian, that's my phone!"
Not that he paid her any mind. Brie shrugged before turning back to the stove, making sure the bacon was extra crispy. Just like Christian liked it.
"Breakfast is ready if you're hungry," she shouted at the direction the balcony where Christian headed off to earlier. "I'm headed down to the pool for a quick dip."
---
"You coming?" Brielle knocked on the door of Christian's room. "I'm heading down."
In addition to Christian appearing at her door drunk on Friday nights, Saturday morning swims had also become routine. Yet another thing Brielle felt guilty about.
Swimming offered a certain peace for Brielle, more effective than the countless hours of therapy she was subjected to as a child. Not to mention, a cheaper alternative. Today, though, Brielle lost count of how many laps she swam. She was too preoccupied with how she was going to convince Christian to show a bit more enthusiasm in his own wedding.
Speak of the devil, she thought as her lifted her head above water. Christian was standing on the opposite side of the pool. He crooked a finger, beckoning her to come closer. Brielle streamed through the water towards him.
"Ryland called. He said he'll be coming to see you tomorrow."
"Okay. I need to call him back. I won't be in the city tomorrow. Where's your phone?"
"Charging in my room. Forgot to plug it in last night."
His room? When did the guest room become HIS room? Quite presumptuous, isn't he?
"Help me out," Brielle extended a hand to him.
Christian reached out to her... and was promptly pulled in headfirst into the cold water, clothes and all.
"You little minx!" he spluttered when he finally found his water legs.
Brielle couldn't help but laugh hysterically. She recognized the mischievous glint in his eye, having sported it herself before pulling him in. True enough, Christian lunged for her. They spent the better part of the morning submerged in the water.
On the first morning they spent together in the water, Brielle considered it a lucky coincidence that no guests decided to spend their time swimming that day. Christian didn't put much stock in luck. After all, he instructed Reception to close down the pool for "maintenance". Brielle figured it out the following week, but let the guy have his way. After all, the privacy was nice. No one to go blabbing about where they spotted Christian D'Angelo.
"I still can't believe I didn't see that coming," Christian grumbled as they rode the elevator back up to Brielle's suite. He was still dripping wet since Brielle only brought one towel with her. Thank heavens for service elevators!
"Give me your clothes. I'll toss them in the wash."
He'd just handed her his shirt when the door of the suite opened to reveal a very astonished Marie and a mortified receptionist.
---
"Hi, can you help me?" Marie batted her eyelashes at the young receptionist. Being a pretty blonde had its uses at times, this being one of them.
"Welcome to The Duchess!" The young man behind the counter beamed at her. "How may I assist?"
"I'm a friend of Brielle. Brielle Dalton, the General Manager? I understand she lives in the hotel. Can you tell me where her room is please?"
"My apologies, Miss?"
"Marie Calder."
"Miss Calder," he smiled at her despite refusing her request. "I'm afraid that is information I'm not allowed to divulge."
Marie was prepared for this. She pulled out her phone and clicked through the photos she and Brie had together.
"Look," she shoved the phone in his face. "We're friends, see?"
"I'm really sorry-"
"I'm engaged to the owner of this hotel," Marie pulled out the big guns. "Christian D'Angelo. Recognize the name?"
The receptionist's eyes widened in fear.
"Brielle is my Maid of Honor. I'm dropping off her dress. Either you tell me where Brielle's room is or I go straight to Matteo, tell him how unhelpful you are."
"There's no need for that, Miss Calder," he attempted to appease Marie. "Miss Dalton is out for the weekend, but I can direct you to her office..."
"No," Marie stood her ground. "This dress is one of a kind and costs more than your annual salary. This either goes straight to her closet or you say goodbye to the front desk. What will it be?"
"If you could follow me, Miss Calder," The receptionist reluctantly led Marie to the elevators. Of course, a D'Angelo's opinion carries more weight than the General Manager. "Miss Dalton occupies the Penthouse."
The Penthouse! Marie thought. Quite an upgrade, Brie.
The receptionist was nervously tugging on his shirt collar all the way up to the top floor. Marie felt slightly bad for him, forced between a rock and a hard place. She thought to apologize, but the gesture disappeared as quickly as it came. For there in the living room of Brielle Dalton's suite was a shirtless Christian D'Angelo.
"Somebody explain to me why my fiancé is hiding out naked in some other woman's house?"
TBC
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