Page 6 of The Casella King

“I’m busy.” I wave my phone, but he remains unfazed.

“And I’m stubborn.” He smirks.

“I don’t even know your name.” I sigh, done with this conversation.

“We can change that.” He reaches into his pocket and gives me his phone. “Give me your number and a date,” he says, with that same smile still on his delicious lips. I stare into his beautiful, dark chocolate swirls, which I now realise is a mistake. The men I usually meet are either living with their parents or have absolutely no goals in life.

“If I do, will you leave me alone?” I ask.

“We’re just getting started, sweetheart.” His voice is like a trance, pulling me in, and I realise he isn’t going to relent.

I kind of like that.

I grab the phone out of his hand and enter my name and number.

“There, now will you please vacate this seat for my assistant?” I raise my eyebrows to say ‘now’.He ignores me and begins dialling, bringing the phone to his ear, whilst his eyes remain on the phone in my hand.

My phone begins to ring, and he hangs up.

“You can save that number under Ezra.” He winks as he stands and walks over to the front pew, taking a seat next to an older woman. My eyes are still on him, on his large, muscular frame underneath that classy suit.

My mouth suddenly feels dry.

“What the hell was that?” Rachel slides into the pew and turns her body to face me.

“What?” I return my focus to the calendar on my phone.

“You do realise who that man is, right?” She raises her eyebrows as I take another look at him. Multiple people have now walked up to him to shake his hand, some have even bowed.

“No? Should I?” I rack my brain for a celebrity name but come up short.

“That’s Ezra Casella.” She looks at me, waiting for me to react. “You know, crime boss, mafia, killer, son of Dominic Casella…now currently known as theCasella King?” She whispers the last words, and my heart starts back up again.

Music filters through the church as the priest begins to do his bit. I’m not religious, so I never really pay attention to this part. Usually, I just use this time to plan my next event or make some phone calls to suppliers, but now I can’t stop thinking about Ezra and why his sudden interest inme.

A short whilst later, it’s the bride’s turn to enter the church. The guests all rise and face the entry whilst I watch the groom. I can almost tell when, or if, a marriage will end by the groom’s reaction to seeing the bride for the first time. Usually, it’s the ones who cry who are willing to work through any issues that arise because of their love for their partner.

It’s the ones who hardly react that you should be worried about.

Lucky for the bride, the groom begins to shed tears as she walks down the aisle in her beautiful white lace dress.

My eyes skate down to where Ezra is standing, his eyes glued not on the bride like everyone else, but on me.

The reception is like any other Italian wedding, over the top and obnoxious.

Not to say that’s a bad thing. That’s just what they like, which is completely fine with me because I make more commission on these weddings, and the great part is, they are always willing to pay.

I walk over to the bar to grab myself a drink, feeling the day and the night catching up with me. I think I might need this two-week break more than I originally thought.

Ordering a Jack and Coke, I take a seat at the bar and revel in the one second of alone time I have before I see someone creep in beside me.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for me to answer as he sits.

“It’s polite to wait for a yes or no,” I say without taking my eyes off my drink because I already know who it is sitting beside me.

“Sweetheart, I’m anything but polite.” His voice, like honey, sweetens the bitterness inside me, but I’ll never let him see that.

“I’m not your sweetheart.” I turn to look at him, and his eyes immediately drop to my lips.

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