My Fiancé’s Secret Love is My Cousin - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

My phone buzzed with a social media notification. Without thinking, I tapped the screen.
Laurel had just posted a video.
There she was, standing on a yacht deck in a barely-there bikini, fishing rod in hand. Some guy's arms were wrapped possessively around her waist. Even through the grainy footage, I spotted the distinctive watch on his wrist - the same one I'd given Brian for his birthday last year.
Thailand, according to the location tag. My chest tightened like someone had dropped an anvil on it. So much for Brian's "urgent business trip" excuse for postponing our wedding. His real emergency was playing nautical sugar daddy to his actual soulmate.
I mechanically showered and called a cab back to the villa. As I zipped my suitcase shut, the doorbell rang. The bridal boutique Brian had arranged sent over a sample dress.
"Delivery for Laurel Gibbs," the cheerful courier announced. "Custom gown from Mr. Rocha. Congratulations on your wedding, Miss Gibbs!"
I stood frozen, staring at the garment bag with MN Bridal's unmistakable logo. The dress Brian had picked for me during our MN showroom visit? Just some off-the-rack runway piece. This? A one-of-a-kind masterpiece. The difference screamed volumes.
"Thanks, but I'm not Laurel," I forced out through clenched teeth.
The courier's smile collapsed into horrified realization. They babbled apologies before practically sprinting to their van.
As the taillights disappeared, movement caught my eye. Brian was back - with Laurel clinging to his arm like a designer accessory.
"Cousin! So good to see you!" Laurel gushed with all the sincerity of a reality TV star. "I was just coming to visit when I ran into your fiancé in the parking lot." She emphasized "fiancé" like it was a temporary condition. "Hope you don't mind."
Brian's jaw twitched at her word choice.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I deadpanned. Why bother minding? My bags were packed. His feelings - or lack thereof - were crystal clear.
I brushed past them upstairs, leaving my door ajar as I resumed packing.
Brian materialized in the doorway, hands in his pockets like some magazine cover model. He produced a ruby necklace with a stone the size of a jawbreaker. "Peace offering?" he tried. "Forgive me?"
As if I cared about some postponed party. I was done with his performance, his pretend affection.
When I didn't respond, he fastened the necklace anyway. "Company gala tonight. Be my date?"
"Busy," I said, wheeling my suitcase toward him.
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You wouldn't want me showing up with someone else, would you? All the industry heavyweights will be there. Thought you'd appreciate the networking."
My grip on the suitcase loosened. This Dubai move might be permanent... maybe I should say proper goodbyes.
I gave a curt nod.
Brian brightened instantly, summoning a stylist team like he'd conjured them from thin air.
An hour later, I descended in a couture gown that cost more than my college tuition, the ruby glinting at my throat.
Brian's eyes darkened with appreciation as he opened his car door. "Stunning."
Just as I moved to enter, Laurel bulldozed between us, fluffing her skirt like she was on a red carpet. "This dress needs more legroom," she simpered, flashing a ruby pendant that made mine look like costume jewelry. "Trade cars with me, Angie?"
I eyed her crocodile smile. "My train's longer than your acting career. No."
Laurel's lips formed a perfect O as she leaned into Brian. "But I get motion sickness," she whimpered, suddenly transforming into a delicate Victorian heroine. "I need the bigger car."