The Ex (The Boss #4) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
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“The crack about Emma’s age,” I hissed in a low voice. “What happened to, ‘I see you as an adult getting married to another adult?’”

“I still mean that,” she insisted. “I was just trying to be funny.”

“Well, it wasn’t!” I pressed my fingertips to my forehead. “Mom, Neil is really stressed out about the wedding. I’m really stressed out about the wedding. We’ve been sniping at each other, and… I just don’t need the little digs, okay?”

She sighed. “Sophie, you have to give me some leeway here—”

“No, I don’t.” Having the same argument over and over was tiring. I deserved a candy bar after this. “I’m getting married. You’ve known this was coming for a while now. If you needed to come to terms with it, that’s on you, not me. I’m sorry you didn’t take care of whatever this is that you’re feeling until right this very moment, but this wedding isn’t about you. It’s about Neil and me, and us merging our families together. Don’t ruin it for me by putting this…parental disappointment or whatever all over it.”

I turned and stomped out. The rest of the family staying with us had come off the elevator, and I gave quick hugs and pretended that I needed the bathroom to quickly excuse myself. Once I was safely closed behind my bedroom door, I let myself rage-tremble.

“Hey, Soph?” Marie called through the door. “Are you okay?”

I opened the door a crack and peered through. “Not really.”

She pushed her way into the room and looked around. “Wow, this is nice.”

“Thanks. You should see the closet.” I gestured toward it.

Marie went over and gave herself a quick tour of the dressing room then came back and said, “Your mom driving you nuts yet, or what?”

Marie looked a lot younger than her late forties and masked her gray hairs with a blonde dye job. She had a way of asking a serious question while still smiling that had always put me at ease.

I flopped down on the couch in front of the fireplace. “Yes. Hello, my wedding is not about her issues—which, by the way, she needs to get the fuck over.”

Marie sat beside me. “She needs to take a little chill. How about I shadow her and provide a buffer?”

“Don’t you guys want to go out and see the city and stuff?” I asked. “You don’t want to be stuck here with us.”

“Nah. Jacob and Leanne and them can go out. Besides, we’ll be here until Tuesday. And thanks for letting us all crash here, by the way.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “You weren’t afraid we’d steal the silverware, huh?”

“No. But thanks for coming.” I blinked my eyes and stretched the skin beneath them. “I can get through this. I can survive this wedding.”

“I hope so,” Marie deadpanned. “You can’t afford this place on your salary.”

* * * *

I breezed into Friday night thinking, yeah, this is okay. Just the rehearsal. Nothing to get nervous about.

I needed to stop listening to myself. When we went to the Plaza, I was woefully unprepared, emotionally, to act out every detail of our ceremony.

“The quartet will be playing, dah da dah,” Shelby coached me at the back of the room. We’d already run through the steps of the wedding on paper, but she would still guide us through it three times tonight. She motioned to Holli. “Okay, I need bridesmaid behind the bride…”

“They should do this at every wedding, so the bridesmaids don’t look like dipshits,” Holli whispered over my shoulder. She stood behind me, miming holding my train.

“Don’t hold it up that high,” I said with a nervous laugh.

“I’ll put it over the back of your head if you don’t shut up,” she warned.

I took a deep breath. This was so weird. I was going to practice walking down the aisle to Neil? It seemed like it was cheating if I already knew what it was going to be like.

“Once the entrance music starts up, then we’ll open these curtains—” Shelby snapped her fingers to the two hotel-assigned attendants, who pulled cords to smoothly lift and part the pale gold brocade curtain. Beyond, the space was still in a bit of chaos; I wouldn’t see the flower arrangements Neil had dreamed up until I was walking down the aisle. I think he liked the idea of surprising me. I knew orchids were involved; Shelby had told me that it was going to be “a hell of a job” getting the fragile blossoms into place without them dying, but that it wasn’t anything the Plaza couldn’t handle.

The lighting was set exactly as we had planned, though; rich and warm gold tones cascaded from the fluted art deco lights that lined either side of the colonnade. I’d heavily argued for the lighting scheme because it was going to go amazingly well with my dress. Chandeliers hung low on either side of the golden marble aisle—I was so glad I remembered to bring my day-of shoes to practice in so I wouldn’t bust my ass during the actual ceremony—and were draped in gold filigree ornaments and twinkling, smoky crystals. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine them with their cream-colored votives lit.


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