Beautiful Boss

  Jensen broke into my thoughts before I could think of what to say. “Are you imagining how it’s going to go down?” he asked.

  “Of course. I’m wondering if she’ll trip on her way down the aisle or stop mid-journey to hug someone she hasn’t seen in years. Hanna always surprises me.”

  “Or if she’ll give up walking altogether and just sprint toward you.” He laughed quietly. “And it will never stop being weird that you call her Hanna.”

  “I can’t imagine calling her Ziggy,” I admitted, and then shivered. “That feels pervy.”

  “Because it is,” he said. “You were seventeen when she was ten. When my little sister was ten, you were sleeping with the mother of one of your bandmates.”

  I shot him a disgusted look. “Are you trying to make me feel gross?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed, standing to clap me on the shoulder again just as Bennett and Max pummeled my hotel room door.

  Two

  Hanna

  I stepped back, staring at myself in the mirror.

  “That’s . . . a lot of white,” I mumbled, swiping at the skirt of my dress. Behind me, Mom and Liv gasped emotionally.

  “Are we sure I shouldn’t have gone for blue? Red? Something that maybe communicates ‘I have banged this man daily’ versus ‘virginal’?”

  Mom let out a quiet “Hanna.”

  “What? No one down there is going to see Will in a tux and buy that I didn’t climb all over—” I stopped midsentence, catching sight of Chloe behind me. “Are you . . . Oh my God, Chloe. Are—are you crying?”

  Chloe reached for a box of tissues—one of many placed around the large bridal suite—and pulled one free, using it to carefully dab beneath each of her perfectly lined eyes.

  “No,” she scoffed. “It’s dusty over here.”

  Liv paused with the curling iron held midair and looked back over her shoulder. “I realize I’m the new kid here, but something tells me that’s not normal,” she whispered.

  I had to bite back a laugh. My sister had only met Chloe on two other, brief occasions, and she already understood that no, when it came to Mrs. Ryan, tears of happiness were not a normal thing.

  “Well, that’s not exactly true,” George said to Liv, waving her off before separating a few of the curls she had just placed in my hair. “We could go see the most emotional documentary ever made, and she would leave with clear eyes. But the time a heel broke off one of her red patent Pradas while crossing Seventh? Waterworks.”

  Chloe laughed, smacking his arm. “Didn’t I fire you this morning?”

  “Twice,” I answered for him. “You fired him on Sara’s behalf in the elevator when he referred to you as ‘Mistress of the Dark’ in front of that priest, and a second time when he offered to help Jensen get dressed later.”

  Mom let out a tiny squeak of surprise.

  “Always so helpful, Hanna, thank you,” George said, tugging a little too hard on a lock of my hair. “In my defense, he looked very busy. I was just trying to be efficient. But as a side note: I should have been warned that Hanna’s brother was so adorable, because really? Tall, Scandinavian, and single? I think I’m the one who’s been wronged here.”

  Liv leaned down and met my eyes in the mirror. “Your friends are weird.”

  “If by weird you mean awesome, then yes,” I said, grinning at her before looking back at Chloe. “I love that you’re getting emotional at my wedding, though. I feel like I’ve unlocked a life achievement.”

  Chloe dabbed her eyes and sniffed into her tissue. “God, what the hell is wrong with me? This is all just so . . . sweet.”

  “Did the BB finally . . . break you?” George asked with dramatic awe.

  “I will smack you with a hammer,” she told him with a glare. “Even in that fancy suit.”

  “This is awesome for me.” Sara came up behind Chloe and hugged her. “Usually I’m the one crying.”

  “Because you’re constantly pregnant,” Chloe reminded her, reaching back to gently pat Sara’s enormous, round belly, carrying Baby Stella Number Two.

  “It sure feels that way.” Sara kissed Chloe’s cheek. “But look.” She lifted her chin, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “You’ve distracted Hanna from being nervous.”

  “What on earth could you possibly have to be nervous about?” Liv asked, pulling a pin from my hand and giving it to George to tuck into my hair. “You and Will are both thoughtful, intelligent, and conscientious. You guys are going to be great at being married.”

  Our eyes met, and when she smiled at me, I had to bite my lip to keep from getting a little emotional myself.

  “If any man ever looks at me the way Will looks at you,” George added, “I’ll propose, marry, and ask for his babies right there on the spot. Will can barely wait for this wedding. I’m surprised he hasn’t convinced you to run off to Vegas.”

  Liv looked at him over the top of my head “I’m not. If he’d ever suggested that, our mother would have cut off all his favorite parts.”

  In unison, we all turned to look across the room at Mom, who was standing quietly near the window, watching the whole conversation. She gave a decisive nod, and I just about burst out laughing.

  George held up an authoritative hand. “Alas, I’m afraid I can’t let that happen. I’ve agreed to let Hanna marry the man of our dreams today, provided she shares all the intimate details. We need those parts.”

  I was getting married today. Me.

  I’d pinch myself, but if this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

  I looked toward the door, in the direction of Will’s room, and felt the same tug in my chest I’d felt last night.

  “Is it still a surprise where you guys are going tonight?” Sara asked.

  “Yes—do you know?” I looked at her anxiously but she only shook her head.

  “Oh, no,” she said, grinning. “Even if I did—which I don’t—you wouldn’t get it from me. Aren’t you the one who told him to surprise you?”

  “Yes, but . . . it turns out the idea of a surprise is a lot better than the actual waiting,” I admitted. Organizing the wedding had been relatively easy; it was the honeymoon that had thrown a wrench into everything. We’d had it all planned out—a week at a gorgeous house in Maine, absolutely no clothes for any of those days—but then a few interviews I’d thought were long shots turned into sure things, and before I knew it I had interviews scheduled around the country and absolutely no idea where I actually wanted to be. After several discussions and what felt like a hundred scheduling conflicts, we’d decided to postpone the honeymoon. My next interview was in two days, so we’d make the most of the wedding night somewhere local . . . and head home in the morning.

  It would be fine. We’d take it one step at a time—one interview at a time—and it would work out. New job, new state, new marriage. I just needed to breathe. Will and I were going to be together; where and how were details that some other Hanna could care about later.

  I was about to marry the man of my dreams. Everything else would fall into place.

  One wedding down.

  One babbling, bumbling bride. One grinning, teary-eyed groom.

  Two platinum rings in place.

  A lot of drunk friends.

  And we were married.

  Just like I imagined, the wedding and reception were nothing but a blur. I was grateful for the constant click of cameras, because I would need those photographs to tell me everything else that happened while I walked down the aisle toward Will, my heart trying to climb up my throat and fly from my body into his. I barely noticed the flowers, or the wedding party, or the guests. I barely registered that it was a perfect fall day and that the leaves were fluttering from trees in the most idyllic way imaginable. I barely felt the press of my father’s lips to my cheek as he passed my hand over to Will’s.

  All I could see were Will’s intense blue eyes, and the joy that flashed across them as they flickered down to the low neckline of my gown. All I could hear was the de
ep, reverent rumble of his voice as he repeated his vow to honor, and cherish, and love me for the rest of our lives. And all I could feel was the juxtaposition of cool metal and warm skin as he slid the ring on my finger.

  It was all I could process . . . until he kissed me, that is. Because that kiss erased everything that came before it.

  You may now kiss your bride.

  The world fell away. It really did. It was just us in that tiny spot of land, standing in silence and staring at each other, on the verge of sealing this commitment we’d made.

  I couldn’t stop smiling.

  His hands came up to my face and he let out this quiet, overwhelmed laugh. In his eyes I could practically see the reel of every memory we’d built together: our first run, our first kiss, the first time we’d made love, our first fight, the weekend he proposed—twice—and each moment of laughter and quiet between us since.

  And then my husband bent, covering my lips with his. I should have known better than to expect a gentle peck. The kiss went on, and on, to the growing hoots and hollers of our friends. But despite their shared joy, I could have left the entire celebration then and there. I could have taken Will’s hand and pulled him into a closet and kissed him for days, just sealing this most important promise for hours.

  After the I do’s, we walked out into the garden with its towering trees and twinkling lights to the sound of our family and friends’ cheers. My cheeks ached from smiling and I tightened my grip on Will’s hand, because he was the only thing anchoring me to the ground. Without his steady touch I was sure I’d simply float away, disappearing into the night sky like a balloon.

  I was grateful I’d listened to advice reminding me that in twenty years, I’d only remember him. Because it was true: his eyes barely strayed from me all night, and when they did it was because he’d pulled me close and his hands took over, roaming carefully over my arms, my back, my sides. The entire reception felt like one long, drawn-out session of foreplay, and by the time I threw the bouquet, I was practically vibrating to be alone with him.

  It was only when we were in the town car and on our way to Will’s surprise wedding-night location that we had a moment to breathe.

  “I can’t believe I made it through that entire thing without screwing up,” I said. I’d been smiling nonstop for hours now. My cheeks were sore and my rapid heartbeat left a constant, giddy feeling in my chest.

  “I don’t know about the entire thing,” Will teased, easily evading a slug to the arm. “I’m kidding.” With a finger under my chin, he tilted my face up to him. “Didn’t I tell you everything would be perfect?”

  “You did,” I said, stretching to nip at his jaw. “Apparently big social gatherings where I am prominently featured stress me out a little. Who knew?”

  He laughed.

  “Hey, guess what?”

  “What?”

  “You’re my favorite.”

  He returned the sentiment with a kiss to my lips, and one kiss turned into another until we heard the driver clear his throat from the front seat. With a self-conscious laugh, I put a little more space between us. I wasn’t going to get carried away in the back of a car on our way to the hotel; I had the entire night with him. I planned on savoring every moment.

  “Did you notice how much champagne Jensen had?” I asked.

  My oldest brother might have the air of the Responsible Sibling, but he did play in a band with Will, after all. I was pretty sure Jensen wasn’t quite as innocent as he always claimed to be.

  “I saw him talking to that redhead who works in your lab,” Will said, nodding. “Think he might have a hard time finding his way home alone.” He leaned over to press a kiss to my cheek, my chin, before making his way to my jaw. “Maybe I won’t be the only one getting lucky tonight.”

  I grimaced. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just make a reference to my brother getting laid on my wedding night.” Will laughed against my throat, his warm breath bringing goose bumps to the surface of my skin. “We both know my brother doesn’t have sex, because, gross,” I added, trying to swallow back my anxious chatter. “Why don’t you just start talking about how handsy my dad was with my mom tonight?”

  Will pulled back, staring down at me in amusement. “How much champagne did you have tonight?” he asked, fingers curling around my hip. “You’re not asleep on the floor, so I’m guessing it wasn’t a lot.”

  “Liv cut me off at half a glass. She said it was her gift to you and that you could thank her at Christmas.”

  Will laughed and we both turned toward the window as the car slowed and then rolled to a gentle stop. He slid across the seat and then turned back to me with a grin.

  “You ready?” he asked, and I wondered if two words had ever been packed with so much meaning.

  Was I ready? Not in a million years. I was barely prepared to handle Will Sumner on an average day, never mind in a hotel room, in a tuxedo, on our wedding night, and with that look in his eye . . .

  It was a look that suggested I was something to eat. It was a look that told me I didn’t stand a chance. The door opened and Will stepped out, quickly turning to offer me his hand. I followed, and was instantly greeted by the sights and sounds of Rowes Wharf and the city just beyond.

  “So this is what you’ve been planning,” I said, looking from the boats rocking gently in the harbor to the beautifully illuminated building in front of us. “You kept this place a secret from me, you little sneak.”

  He grinned. “You said to surprise you.”

  “How in the world . . . ?” I started, but just shook my head, hit by a wave of nostalgia so big it took my words away. I’d been to the Boston Harbor Hotel as a child and always wanted to come back, but had no idea how he knew any of this. “Did my mom tell you about this place?”

  “Well, she did help me organize things a little, but no, she didn’t tell me. You did,” he said, placing his hand on my lower back and leading us both to the lobby doors.

  “I tell you approximately three hundred random things a day. I have no idea how you manage to retain even a fraction of them.”

  Our bags had been delivered earlier in the day, so once we had our room keys, we headed straight for the elevators.

  Pressing the call button, Will bent to place a lingering kiss against my cheek. “Your dad brought you here for afternoon tea when you were eight, and your mother made you wear a terrible dress and tights that kept—if I have my Hanna-isms correct—creeping into your fancy parts? I might be paraphrasing, of course.”

  I laughed at the memory. “I hated that dress. It was Liv’s, and the zipper was all jagged and would snag in my hair.” He gave me a slow nod to tell me he remembered all of this . . . and my insides warmed. “There were rose petals on the tablecloths.”

  “Pink,” he added, rubbing slow circles on my back with his palm.

  I nodded, eyes locked on his before dropping to his gorgeous mouth. I wanted to kiss that mouth, taste it, stretch out across a giant bed while it tasted me. We’d made love just last night and yet it still felt like it’d been too long.

  “I feel like I barely got to talk to you today,” I whispered. “How weird is that? It was our wedding, we were next to each other all night, and yet it feels like we spent most of the day talking to other people.”

  “I felt the same way,” he said, and the low rumble of his voice vibrated down my spine. “Between the guests and the pictures, your family, my family, and the guys all stealing you for dances . . . I just stared at you all night.”

  I pulled him down for another kiss and felt him hum against my mouth. “Would you be interested in some alone time now?” I asked. “I’d like to show you how much I like your surprise.”

  “I’m a little torn between wanting to stare at you in this dress some more, and wanting to tear it off you.” The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside, shifting to the back to make room for a few others, who smiled at us and murmured their congratulations.

  Every time I remembe
red that Will was my husband now, tiny bombs went off inside my chest.

  I pressed my face to his shoulder, breathing him in as the elevator began to climb. He smelled amazing; the scent of orchids that had filled the entire reception clung to him. I felt light-headed for a moment. Gone were any nerves and exhilaration, and sheer fucking want raced through my veins.

  I did a quick check to make sure nobody was paying attention, and then pushed up onto my toes so I could whisper into his ear.

  “I know we head home early tomorrow,” I said, already dreading the alarm that would go off at eight in the morning to get us to the airport on time. “So we need to make the best use of our time. Bed, floor, couch . . . I want you to take me everywhere.” I paused, adding even more quietly, “I want to feel you everywhere.”

  Will straightened with a quick intake of air and looked around us. “Christ, Hanna.”

  “What? I’m whispering.”

  Will bit back a laugh. “Have you ever actually heard yourself whisper? It’s like a stage whisper, done only for comedic effect and meant to be heard by the people all the way in the back.”

  I shook my head. “No way.” Pointing to my chest, I added, “Super subtle.”

  Will’s continued laughter was cut short as the doors opened on the second floor, and everyone shifted to let an older couple step out. I hated to admit it, but if the looks everyone gave us over their shoulders were any indication, Will was right . . . they’d heard everything.

  As we started moving again, Will leaned in and pressed his mouth to my ear. “But honestly, I like the sound of all of this.”

  “I have a list and want to make sure we get to everything.”

  “You have a list.”

  I looked at him, blinking. “You don’t?”

  “Hanna,” he said, laughing. “You are amazing.”