Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(58)

“Good!”

“He’s a perfect specimen of manhood.”

“Keep going!”

“If he wasn’t engaged to you, I would ride him like the sexy love stallion he is.”

“Yeah, ya would!”

“I would fuck him ten ways from Sunday.”

“And he’d love it!”

“I would climb him like a tree and bang him like a screen door in a hurricane!”

Her face drops in an instant, and she looks at me with a hurt expression. “Okay, that’s too far.”

My smile fades. “Oh, God, Angel—”

Her lips tremble, and my chest aches when her eyes fill with tears. “Why would you say that? I thought you were my friend. Bang him like a screen door in a hurricane? That’s disgusting, Elissa!”

“But you asked me to say—”

A huge snort of laughter rips out of her before she bends over in a fit of giggles. “Oh my God, your face!”

“What? You . . . Oh, you—” I struggle to react to her hyena laugh. “Goddamn actors!” She’s in hysterics now, and despite my near heart attack, I smile. “You will pay for that.” She laughs harder. “One day, when you least expect it, I’m taking you down, lady. That was mean! America’s sweetheart, my ass! I should fuck your man just to spite you.”

That’s when I remember the cameras are there. I clap my hand over my mouth. “Oh, no. You guys can’t use any of that.”

The producer smiles. “Sure. We’ll cut that out.”

“No, seriously,” I say. “It was a joke. I was joking. You can’t put that in the show.” What would everyone think? God, what would Liam think?

I go over to the producer. “Please. I’ll pay you. How much to burn that footage?”

She smiles again, and I swear to god, she looks like a barracuda in lipstick. “Good television is priceless.”

Angel comes over and pats my arm. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. I say stupid things all the time. They’ll definitely edit that out. Right, Ava?”

Ava nods. “Of course, Miss Bell.” She has all the sincerity of a snake oil salesman.

“See?” Angel says. “All good. Now, come with me.” She grabs my hand and leads me into the dressing room. “You need to try on one of these dresses. You say you don’t have a wedding fantasy, but you will by the time I’m done with you.”

I try to pull away, but dammit, the girl is stronger than she looks. “Angel, no. I don’t think they let random chicks who aren’t getting married into their super-expensive gowns.”

She waves away my concern. “If I’m going to be dropping a hundred grand in their store, they’ll let me dress up my friend for a few minutes. Right, Bianca?”

The sales assistant plasters on her most patient smile. “Of course, Miss Bell. Let me help you.”

I try to resist, but as usual, Angel won’t be denied. She pulls off my clothes, then she and Bianca help me wiggle into a jewel-encrusted, low-cut sheath that hugs all of my curves a little too tightly.

“Oh my God,” Angel says as she pulls back. “You . . . look . . . incredible!”

Bianca steps in to fuss with my hair and a veil, then hands me a bouquet. When she’s done, Angel drags me out to stand on the little podium in front of the giant mirror.

“Look how beautiful you are!”

For a second, I have no idea who I’m looking at, because it sure isn’t me.

“Oh. Wow.”

Angel gestures for the cameras to get shots of me. “Now this is footage you can use. You’re stunning, Elissa. You’re going to make some man very happy one day.”

I look at the woman in the mirror. Blond hair up in an elegant chignon, veil draped over my bare shoulders, my body seeming long and svelte in the tight, thick fabric. The beading sparkles in the mirror, and I’ve never seen myself like this before. Beautiful. A bride. A wife-to-be.

Emotion coils in my throat, because for the first time in my life, I can imagine getting married. I can picture myself walking down the aisle to Liam, him all gorgeous and tall in his sleek tux. Love is written all over his face as he watches me make my way toward him. The mental image is so vivid, it takes my breath away.

And then I’m hit by a wave of indescribable sadness, because what I’m seeing is Angel’s future, not mine.

Suddenly, the dress is too tight, and my heart is beating too fast, and I have to get out of here before the panic simmering beneath my skin boils over.

“I have to go.”

“What, why?”

I step off the podium, but when I turn to head into the dressing room, I trip on the train and tumble to the ground. Of course, I fall on my sore hip. “Goddammit!”

I scramble to my feet, but I’ve had so much to drink, it makes balancing difficult. Angel tries to help. I wave her away, then hurry back to the dressing room. The stuffy sales assistant is more than happy to remove my peasant flesh from her couture gown in record time.

When I’m dressed, I go and hug Angel. She’s frowning. “Why are you leaving? I thought we were having a good time.”

“We were, but I’ve got heaps of work to finish up before tomorrow’s rehearsal. See you in the morning, okay?”