Free Billionaire on Board by Dasha G. Logan Page A

of extensive french-kissing, by the door.
    I went into the bathroom and ran water into the tub. 
    Every nerve in my body was tingling. 
    I was ecstatic. 
    In my memory last night's images played out like a 1980s Tom Cruise movie, you know, Ryan embracing me in the light of a thousand candles, Michael Bolton singing… Several times I had to squeal.
    In truth, neither the candles nor Michael Bolton had been there. 
    Thank God… he might have wanted to join in!
     
    "Pull yourself together, Jude," I admonished myself whilst applying the lady shaver, "this is one weekend of raunchy sex and then you'll be back to your own devices. Michael, shut up."
     

Twelve
     
    I waited in front of my building in full regalia. In this case it meant a tight, strapless red dress and four-inch-high red patent leather stilettos, large gold earrings and an even larger gold bracelet which charmed my skin excessively. (For the eventuality of going to Christian's wedding after all, I had done some low-intensity tanning over the winter, f.y.i.) 
    I had brought a red stole with me for the church but because of the unusual heat I had cramped it into my handbag for the moment. 
    My blow-dryer had not deserted me and my hair was glossy, its natural blonde shone brightly - of which I was unduly proud - and I had draped it elegantly over my right shoulder. Kim Basinger could not have done better in her days.
    Talking about upstaging the bride… I would give Corinna a run for her money. 
    There are few people on the planet I actually despise, but my oldest buddy's psychotherapist slash psychopath wife is definitely among them.
     
    I looked out for the Maybach.
     
    Strangely enough, I did not have an inkling of a doubt about Ryan's willing participation in the day's charade. One might have apprehended a change of mind - in reality he had no reason whatsoever to go to a wedding between two complete strangers, especially now since the goods had been delivered - but I trusted him and was confident to see the Maybach's characteristic grill within the next few minutes.
     
    It had something to do with having known him for a long time. Or better said, having known about him. 
    He was a piece of my past. He was part of a time for which I felt a strong nostalgia, even if his cameo in my life's movie had lasted fifteen seconds only. The idea of him had remained with me. I had always known, somewhere out there, somebody called Ryan Corvera-Fabergé was outrageously good-looking, probably rich as Midas and in the possession of a driver's license.
    There is also a tendency in humans to flock to people with whom they have something in common. When you move to a strange city and you meet someone from your own place, you bond with them, you confide in them. It's even worse when you move into another country. You will automatically feel closely linked to everybody of your own nationality, even if they are people you would never have chosen to be friends with back at home.
     
    It was not exactly that with Ryan, but I experienced the same feeling of comradeship. 
    He knew my old school. I had seen him there. He had seen me there. His sister had been my schoolmate. No matter how little contact I had had with Laetitia, I had been familiar with her. I had played netball against her. I had met her in the locker room, the dining hall, the loo, the dodgy corner behind the gym where everybody went to smoke, the off-limit pub, the bus. She was somebody real. 
    When you meet a man, say, in a nightclub or in a bar, you can never be sure they really are who the say they are. You do not know their names, you do not know where they are from, they can tell you anything. They lack credentials.
     To me, Ryan had those credentials. It was not much, but it was something.
     
    The Maybach arrived three minutes later and Ryan alighted from it with inborn grace, as if he did not do anything else in life. Which was probably true.
    He had renounced the tuxedo and wore the same dark