Rating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

21. Riggs

CHAPTER 21

Riggs

I stare at the two bags on the floor of our hotel room. There should be three. “I need my suit bag,” I tell the man on the phone, the third one I’d talked to today.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Romero, but we’re still trying to locate it.”

“I have an event tomorrow. I can’t show up without my suit,” I complain. “Find it and get it to the Four Seasons before I go to bed tonight.”

Libby walks into the room as I hang up and toss my phone on the bed. With a sexy sway of her hips, she walks right into my space and wraps her arms around my neck.

“Have I told you how hot it is when you get all bossy?”

As bad as my mood is, she pulls a smile from me.

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm. So hot, I almost don’t want to tell you my good news.”

I lift a sardonic eyebrow. “You’ve magically procured me a suit?”

“Why, yes, Mr. Romero. I certainly have,” she says with a southern belle drawl.

“This isn’t the time to be fucking with me, Libby. I have to dress the part tomorrow, and most of my suits are custom-made because of my height.”

“Have you forgotten who my cousin is dating?” she sings, and my eyebrows rocket up my forehead.

“Bouvier?” I murmur, and she nods.

“He’s sending over a suit as we speak. Gianna and I compared notes, and we think you and Auburn are about the same size.”

The relief that shoots down my spine is laced with adoration for this woman. While I’ve been fighting with the airline, she’s been working on another solution.

“Babe…” I’m lost for words, so I kiss the hell out of her.

When we come up for air, she presses her lips against the corner of my mouth. “Gianna said something similar happened to her when she moved to New York, except the airline lost all her luggage. So she’s very sympathetic to your situation.”

Thirty minutes later, the concierge calls our room, saying we have a delivery, and I tell him to send the person to our suite. When he arrives, I’m surprised to find a well-dressed man in his fifties with dark-brown hair shot through with a healthy dose of gray.

“I am Devereaux,” he says formally, “Bouvier’s head designer. This is my assistant, Tora.” He nods toward the thin man behind him with huge brown eyes.

I resist the urge to say holy shit! I’m not a fashion guru, but I’m well-versed enough to know that getting a personal visit from the head designer of a major fashion house is a big fucking deal.

“Devereaux, Tora, thank you so much for coming. Come in.” I gesture for them to enter, and they do, Tora pushing a hanging rack ahead of him.

“I’ve brought a selection from Mr. Bouvier’s personal collection,” Devereaux says. “We’re here to make sure whichever you pick fits properly.”

Tora’s voice is teasing as he winks, “We can’t have ill-fitting Bouvier suits floating around out in public. Dev would rather eat a carb than to see that happen.”

“For your information, I ate a carb last week, Tora.” He shudders. “It was delicious, but I did a two-day juice cleanse to counteract it.”

Tora goes to work sliding the suit bags down the rack. “I ate four doughnuts for breakfast today. And I did a cheesecake cleanse at lunch.”

“Not everyone is lucky enough to have the metabolism of a toddler, Tora,” Dev retorts, circling a finger at the rack. “Give me the black one.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the thin man says, affecting a royal curtsy at his boss before pulling out a suit bag.

These two are hilarious.

Libby walks out of the bedroom, dressed in a dark-green wrap dress that sits just at the curve of her shoulders. I forget for a moment that we have visitors as I practically leave a puddle of drool on the floor.

“Oh, hi?” she says, eyeing the two men. Like me, she probably expected a delivery person to simply drop off a suit.

“Libby, this is Devereaux, Bouvier’s head designer, and his assistant, Tora,” I explain.

The latter lets out a squeal and dashes toward Libby, squeezing her in an overly enthusiastic hug. “Look at you, you gorgeous thing. You look so much like your cousin. The cheekbones, the adorable little nose.” He boops Libby’s nose, and she laughs.

“Thank you. That’s quite a compliment.”

Tora holds her at arm’s length. “And your shoulders. Look, Dev! Libby has our Gianna’s shoulders.”

Devereaux gives her a deferential nod. “You are stunning, Libby. I’ve brought something for you as well.” He snaps his fingers twice. “Tora! The dress!”

Tora hops to attention and pulls another bag off the rack. “Gianna picked this out for you, Libby. It’s to wear to your event tomorrow.”

“No, I couldn’t,” Libby demurs, and Dev levels her with a glare.

“You’ll have to take that up with your cousin, but I’m certainly not leaving here with that dress. What Gianna Moschella wants, Gianna Moschella gets. Mr. Bouvier would fire me on the spot if I displeased his bride-to-be.”

“Oh, well. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

By the time the designers leave two hours later, I have a bespoke navy suit and shoes for tomorrow, as well as a more casual black suit for this evening’s dinner with Gianna and Auburn. Dev and Tora hand-altered the cuffs of both suits for the perfect fit.

Libby is the proud new owner of a flirty red cocktail dress that looks amazing with her tan. She will wear it tomorrow to the book event.

“I can’t wait to see Gianna,” she says as we walk downstairs that evening. She’s vibrating with excitement, and I place my hand on her lower back when we enter the restaurant. It’s stunning, decked out in dark woods and red upholstered chairs.

“Hello, we are meeting Auburn Bouvier,” I tell the ma?tre d', and he practically bows at the waist.

“Right this way. You’re in the private dining room.”

While we walk behind him, Libby looks up at me and mouths, “Ooooh, fancy-pants!”

As soon as we’re inside the large room, which is set with one intimate four-top table, Libby and her cousin squeal with delight, jumping and hugging each other.

I’ve seen pictures of Auburn Bouvier, and he’s just as impressive up close, tall and imposing, though his face is complete mush as he watches his fiancée’s happy reunion. He turns to me and holds out his hand. “Auburn Bouvier.”

“Riggs Romero,” I tell him, giving the man a firm shake.

“I figured these two would be loud as hell, so I got us a private dining room.”

I laugh, liking this guy already. “Thank you so much for saving the day,” I tell him, fingering the lapel of the jacket I’m wearing.

“No problem. My fiancée set it all up.” He beams at the F-word, obviously thrilled to be marrying Gianna. And who could blame him?

Though Gianna has dark hair and green eyes and Libby is blonde with hazel eyes, the relation between them is unmistakable. With similar facial features and builds, they’re both fucking knockouts.

The ladies finally make their way to us, and the rest of the introductions are made. “Gianna,” I say, lightly kissing her cheek, “it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for handling the wardrobe issue. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. I’ll get the suits cleaned and shipped back to you next week.”

Auburn waves a hand at me. “Don’t worry about it. Just keep them.”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t do that.”

“You look great in a Bouvier suit. Very good advertisement for the brand.” He winks. “Maybe you could wear it on a book cover.”

“I’d love to, but are you sure?”

Gianna rolls her eyes. “Trust me, he won’t even miss them. Right now Auburn has eleven navy suits, seven gray, two ivory, three light-blue, and fourteen black ones in his closet. And that’s not even including the tuxes.”

I can’t help but laugh at the man’s chagrined smile. “Well, that’s very kind of you, Auburn. I’m going to take care of dinner tonight as a token of my appreciation.”

“I couldn’t let you do that,” he says with a frown, but I shake my head.

“I insist.”

We sit, and after some excellent appetizers, the chef brings out a selection of Wagyu beef dishes from America, Japan, and Australia. Each bite is more delicious than the last, but the company is even better.

I really like Auburn and Gianna. It’s obvious the two are head-over-heels in love with each other, and I’m surprised to learn they’ve been dating for less than a year.

“How did you two meet?” I ask, and the couple exchange a bemused smile as Libby giggles. She’s obviously heard this story before.

After they tell me about their meet-cute, I burst out laughing. “Damn, Bouvier. You actually said, ‘she’ll do?’ You’re lucky to have this lady on your arm. You were a bit of a dickhead.”

“Huge dickhead,” Gianna agrees, bumping Auburn’s shoulder with affection. “But he’s more than made up for it. Now, tell me about you two. How long have you been dating?”

Libby inches her eyebrows up and nods at me. Taking a deep breath, I announce. “A week.”

“Wow, dude. You move fast,” Bouvier says, and his woman narrows her eyes at him.

“Says the guy who had me in his bed on our first date.”

Auburn cups Gianna’s face with a tenderness I wouldn’t have expected from the billionaire. “I was taking care of you, sweetheart.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” I tease, and Auburn wraps an arm possessively around his bride-to-be with a grin.

“I actually was taking care of her. She got really sick. Nothing happened between us that night.”

“Except for when you undressed me and put one of your T-shirts on me,” Gia shoots back with a look of amusement on her face.

“So you’d be comfortable, baby girl. I didn’t even look.” His head tilts to the side. “Well, maybe a quick peek but purely for… medical purposes.”

We all crack up at that, and Libby’s crazy laugh makes me loop my arm around her chair to pull her closer. Something about this woman makes electricity hum through my body, especially when she’s being so real.

Oh, who am I kidding? She’s always real and her authentic self, and that’s so goddamn attractive to me. I kiss her temple, and she lifts her eyes to mine. There are little laugh crinkles around the corners, and her lips are turned up into a happy smile.

“I’m crazy about you,” I whisper before pressing my lips softly against hers.

“I’m crazy about you too,” she says back, and suddenly, I’m anxious to get her back to the room.