Calamity Rayne Gets Hitched Read Online Lydia Michaels

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
<<<<405058596061627080>156
Advertisement2


After several more kisses and goodbyes, I was on my way.

Once I boarded the private jet, the captain gave me a rundown of the flight like they usually did with Hale. I thought we were going to LaGuardia but this time we were landing in a private airport I’d never heard of. This made me more anxious than I already was when I traveled.

I texted my new travel companion, Martell Sharoski, letting him know when and where my flight was scheduled to land. Good old Marty responded right away, confirming that he would be waiting on the tarmac when I arrived.

Seraphina texted me several times that morning in an attempt to hype me up, but I was running on minimal coffee and no sleep, so no matter how many times she reminded me that New York was the beating heart of the fashion industry and her boutique had everything I needed, an exaggerated Yay and a few emojis were all I could muster.

Her store was right on Madison Ave, not far from the hotel, so I imagined I’d go there first. After checking in, of course.

I napped a little on the flight and that helped matters, but I still needed to find coffee. Martell was waiting by a dark town car when I arrived on the tarmac. When Hale said the driver was taller than most he wasn’t kidding. Sharoski was an oak tree of a man with a long, jagged scar carved from his eye to his jaw.

Feeling a little like an underdressed Ava Gabor and about as important as Jackie Onassis, I shaded my eyes from the jet’s boarding stairs and took a moment to process that this was my life.

“Let the adventure begin,” I mumbled, taking the steps carefully as the cold February wind whipped against my clothes. I was not cut out for these northern climates anymore.

“Rayne Meyers?” Sharoski said as I approached the sleek town car.

“That’s me. You must be Martell.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He immediately relieved me of my bag and opened the back door. “Welcome to New York.” He replaced the W of welcome with a V in a deep voice that would make any woman shiver—both with fear and awareness.

Yowzers. This man was a man-man. The sort who could nick himself with an ax and barely flinch. The moment he had my luggage stowed in the trunk and he was behind the wheel, we were on our way.

“With morning traffic we’re looking at about an hour’s drive to the Plaza.”

“Thank you.” I texted Hale even though he wouldn’t get the message until he landed in Tokyo late that night.

Phina had texted me another three times with pictures of champagne on ice and reminders to bring any meaningful accessories. I had no meaningful accessories aside from the two rings Hale had given me.

Within minutes my anxiety hit the crescendo of a fast ticking time bomb even my music couldn’t calm. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous. Maybe because this meant the wedding was actually happening. Or maybe because I would be on my own making crucial decisions and I was worried others might take issues with my choices. Either way, I really wished Hale or Elle had come with me.

“Hey Marty, is it possible to stop and get some coffee on the way.”

“Absolutely, Ms. Meyers.”

Ugh. Ms. Meyers was a woman I hadn’t been in years. A name that wouldn’t exist after April. “Call me Rayne.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He was very formal. If we were going to see a lot of each other, I wanted to break the ice. He should learn right out of the gate that I was the chatty sort—especially when I was anxious. “How long have you known Hale?”

“I’ve driven the Davenports for years.”

“Oh. Cool.” I glanced out the window, eager to get to my destination and nervous about the day ahead. “So, where are you from?”

“Many places.”

Marty was not a talker.

We stopped at a Dunkin and I insisted Marty get something as well. He reluctantly accepted once he realized I wouldn’t back down. His body language and vigilant demeanor indicated extensive military training, but I had a special gift for making uptight men let down their guard.

“Do you like your hot chocolate?”

“Delicious. Thank you.”

I could tell he wasn’t used to passengers talking to him this much, but he was my only friend in New York at the moment and my only distraction from the grumbles in my stomach.

“You should try the home fries before they get cold.”

He didn’t respond but I knew I’d eventually crack him.

New York had a way of taking me back to childhood. Not that I ever visited the city as a child. But once, when I was a little girl, I got lost on a crowded beach and the experience caused the same nervous ball of uncertainty in my stomach.


Advertisement3

<<<<405058596061627080>156

Advertisement4