Dani Collins - Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 3

“That’s true. Elana can’t throw for shit,” Luc confirmed.

Rachel smiled, conscious that gossip-hungry eyes were beginning to turn their way. “Oh, that’s absolutely fine, Elana,” she said in a light, airy voice, making sure her voice carried over the crowd. “After all, I’ve already said yes to my Prince Charming.” She flashed the huge diamond on her ring finger.

Elana gasped, then squealed before enfolding Rachel in her arms. A gratifying number of women who’d been hovering around Vanessa the ho-bag made a beeline for her. Satisfied that the limelight was back where it belonged, Rachel’s smile widened. As she answered the when, how and wheres that came with proposal announcements, her gaze skated over to where Vanessa now stood, her smile gone and her hand hanging on limply to the bouquet.

As their eyes met, Rachel quirked a brow at the girl.

Too fucking right. I’m the princess in this castle, bitch.

“Oh my God, Luc! Why didn’t you tell us?” Elana exclaimed.

Rachel watched her fiancé shrug as his brother and mother joined them. “It’s your wedding day, sis. You would’ve attempted to castrate me if I let my gorgeous fiancée take the spotlight away from you.”

Elana smacked him hard on the arm. “That’s for making me sound shallow. Seriously, I’m really happy for you two.”

Pleasure surged through Rachel as she accepted the congratulations.

“This is wonderful news, Luc. I couldn’t be happier for both of you,” Mariella added, bestowing a smile on both of them.

“Thanks, Mom,” Luc said, accepting a hug from his mother.

“Thanks, Mariella,” Rachel chimed in. “I can’t wait to become part of your wonderful family.”

And the sooner the better. She looked to Luc to see if he would add something more, but he was turned away, talking to his brother.

Well, she’d come this far in getting him to propose. If she had to work a little harder to get him to the altar ASAP, so be it.

“Hey, Thom, aren’t you forgetting something, buddy?” one of the groomsmen called out.

Thom frowned. “Uh...”

“The garter, numbskull. Some of us have been waiting all day to catch sight of your wife’s killer legs. So hop to it or one of us will do it for you.”

Good-natured catcalls and wolf whistles sounded, followed by a cheer. Thom executed an exaggerated bow before leading his wife back to the chair in the middle of the dance floor.

The DJ struck up a saucy number as Thom, minus his jacket, got down on one knee before Elana. With a saucy smile of her own, Elana slowly drew up her wedding gown. Inch by inch, her legs were exposed. More wolf whistles flew across the room as she extended her right leg and planted it in Thom’s lap.

A slow hike of the dress to the middle of her thigh, and the white lace garter was exposed. A few exaggerated groans from the groomsmen triggered laughter.

A smiling Thom, now on both knees, slowly drew the elastic band down his wife’s leg. Once the garter was off, he took Elana’s hand and kissed the back of it before he stood up, twirling the garter around his forefinger.

“You ready, guys?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

The catcalls stopped abruptly. The men scrambled to get out of his line of fire. With a wicked grin, Thom strolled around in a taunting arc, then lobbed the scrap of fabric over his shoulder.

“Oh, hell no!” Thom’s best man, Greg Dalton, jumped as if he’d been scalded with hot water, then tossed the garter that had landed on his shoulder into another group of men. The women burst into laughter as several men attempted to stop themselves from inheriting the garter.

* * *

Luc watched with detached amusement as the piece of silk traveled through the crowd. Beside him, Rachel laughed, her left hand splayed possessively on his chest as they watched the antics.

A waiter approached with a tray of champagne. He took one and handed it to Rachel. About to reach for another glass, he froze when the garter whizzed through the air and landed at the last place he wanted it.

Hell, no.

For a charged few seconds, Luc stared at the piece of silk lying on top of his polished shoe as if the thing was a snake about to sink its fangs into him. Sadly, that moment of immobility cost him dearly.

“Luc! Luc! Luc!” Relieved male voices urged him on.

He wasn’t sure what made him glance at Rachel in that moment. But there was no mistaking she was as pissed as he was stunned. Although he had to hand it to her for keeping a confident, smiling face, even while her eyes blazed blue murder at him. She really had a remarkable poker face when the occasion demanded it.

A sliver of unease whispered down his spine at the thought. He didn’t have time to dwell on the sensation, though. A crowd was gathering around him.

Which meant...

He raised his head, scanning the crowd until he saw her. Vanessa’s gorgeous eyes were filled with alarm, and she looked like she wanted to throw up.

Fuck.

Would it have killed her to look a little less terrified?

If it were any other wedding other than his sister’s, he probably would’ve picked up the fucking thing and tossed it back into the crowd. But he could feel the weight of his mother’s stare on him. The wedding everyone had stressed about for weeks had gone off with only a tiny hitch, and the last thing his mother needed was for him to fuck up the proceedings in the final stages.

He could also feel Rafe and Gabe watching him, wondering if he was going to be the dick who ruined everyone’s fun. Hell, even Joe was in on the don’t-fuck-this-up act.

Luc dragged his gaze away from Vanessa’s, slowly bent down to pick up the silk and lace. Absently, he noted its softness. Smooth. Just like her skin.

He clenched his jaw for a single moment, then inhaled a steadying breath.

“Come on, let’s get this show on the road,” someone shouted.

The galvanized crowd herded a stumbling Vanessa toward the chair his sister had vacated minutes ago.

“For fuck’s sake, Luc, you don’t have to do it,” Rachel muttered under her breath, her fingers clamping on his arm for a tight second.

Luc knew he had no choice. Already he was shrugging off his fiancée’s hold, and his feet were propelling him to where the woman who made his heart race with terrifying longing sat waiting.

Under the lights, she looked even more gorgeous than he’d first thought when he saw her dancing the fucking tango with that asshole. Her made-up face was flawless, if a little pale, as she watched him approach.

Her eyes, though...

Hell, she looked as if all her nightmares had decided to take the form of one Luc Marshall. His gaze dropped in time to catch the hands in her lap trembling before she tightened them into fists.

God, had he really read her and the chemistry he’d sensed between them that wrong? If so, why the hell was his blood thrumming in his veins as he stood before her? Why did he have an almost unstoppable urge to bend and bury his face in her neck, refresh his memory with the intoxicating scent of her?

He pulled himself back from the edge.

Get this fucking thing done already.

He dropped to his haunches and tried his best not to stare at her cleavage or her small, delicate feet framed by her spectacular heels.

“Lift up your skirt.” Shit. Could his fucking voice sound any more like a rusted drainpipe in a thunderstorm?

Her mouth compressed at the corners for a tiny second before she tugged up one side of her dress. At the sight of her long shapely leg, Luc swallowed. With mounting alarm, he felt his cock stir to life.

Great, all he needed was a boner to compound this hell he’d been flung into.

“Higher,” he instructed, his voice none too smooth.