I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis novel Chapter 162

Chapter 162 Wedding Plans

I glanced at him. “My what?”

“Wedding,” Ashton said.

“We’re already married,” I said automatically.

“Contractually,” he murmured. “Not exactly what meant.”

Yvaine stood. “Excuse me, I’m going to the ladies‘.

“Need me to come with?” I asked.

“Nah.” She smiled at Ashton. “You’ve got company.”

I followed her with my eyes.

She didn’t look upset, but she took a wide detour to avoid walking past Cassian’s table.

“You’re quiet,” Ashton said.

“I’m watching the fallout of a terrible snap decision.”

“Yours or hers?”

I turned to face him properly.

His tie was still perfect.

He hadn’t loosened it.

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His posture hadn’t changed since we sat down–spine straight, hands resting lightly on the tablecloth, eyes impossible to read.

Only his thumb moved, tracing a slow line along the side of his wine glass.

“Why are you asking me about weddings?” I asked.

“We’re here, aren’t we? Such an occasion naturally brings that topic to mind. Seemed reasonable to check what you like.”

I blinked at him. “Are you trying to plan a hypothetical wedding with me?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if I were the one being obtuse. “What if, hypothetically, I said yes?”

“You’re not joking.”

“I rarely do.”

“You’re asking if I want a real wedding. With you.”

“I’m asking what kind of wedding you’d find tolerable, should circumstances evolve.”

“Circumstances like… us not faking it anymore?”

Chapter 162 Wedding Plans

“Something like that.”

My heart was a mess.

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“Mirabelle!” The bride appeared next to me, arm linked with her groom. “I have to come and say thank you! The necklace is…” She touched her neck. “Simply divine.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I raised my glass and offered a toast.

The groom tried to engage Ashton in conversation, and by the time the newlyweds moved on, I’d lost track of my conversation with Ashton.

I checked the time.

Cake had been sliced.

People were leaving.

A few kids ran across the dance floor, dragging a satin ribbon between them like a leash.

Yvaine’s seat was empty.

Ten more minutes passed.

Still no Yvaine.

I leaned toward Ashton. “I’m going to look for Yvaine. She’s been gone too long.”

He didn’t stop me.

The hallway behind the ballroom smelled of lavender soap and floor polish.

A server carried a stack of plates past me.

I scanned the prep room, then poked my head into the bridal suite.

Empty.

Rachel popped out of the dressing room with her heels in one hand and a granola bar in the other.

Her updo was collapsing.

“Yvaine came through earlier,” she said, chewing. She didn’t stay long.”

I called Yvaine.

Straight to voicemail.

I turned around and went back into the ballroom.

She wasn’t at the top table.

I kept checking the rest of the place, until I returned to the balcony where I’d run into Rhys earlier.

For some reason, it seemed to be a popular spot for private conversations.

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Chapter 162 Wedding Plans

Or, in this case, a private confrontation.

+15 BONUS

I turned the corner and spotted them both, Yvaine stiff as steel, Alexis standing in her way like a smug doorman.

It took me two seconds to figure out what was going on.

I walked straight over and stopped next to Yvaine.

My heels scuffed the edge of Alexis’s gown, which was an accident, but not one I regretted.

“Let’s go,” I said to my friend.

“Miss Carlisle and I are not done talking,” Alexis said.

“Talking?” I sniffed the air, which reeked of a passive–aggressive vibe. “Or threatening?”

Alexis gave me a dismissive once–over. “Fine. Yes, consider it a warning. I hope Yvaine’s smart enough not to mess with someone else’s marriage. She wouldn’t want to be called a homewrecker, would she?”

“You and Cassian are married?”

“Not yet, but it’s a done deal.”

“Did Cassian know you were coming to do this?”

She smiled complacently. “No. He wouldn’t like it. And I don’t plan on telling him either. Unless you two want to run off and tattle?”

“So you came here behind his back, hoping we’d just keep our mouths shut?” I tilted my head. “You think we’re that polite?”

Alexis just kept smiling. “Yvaine’s a Carlisle. I’d imagine she’s too well–bred to be sneaky.”

Yvaine snorted. “Says the woman who crept over here like a cockroach and started a fight she can’t finish. Who’s being sneaky?”

Alexis just shrugged.

Girls like her were the hardest to deal with, too polished to crack, too pleased with themselves to

care.

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