Page 25 of Tempt Me

At three the next day, I’m wishing I packed a flask. I stand on the doorstep of Mainwaring Manor and try not to feel like a total imposter. It’s a gorgeous townhouse on Beacon Hill, complete with stone pillars and gargoyles perched up on the roof. I reach to ring the bell, but the door opens before I can even touch the buzzer.

Carlson, the elderly butler, is standing there. “Yes?” he asks.

“It’s me.” I pause, thrown. “Chloe. Max’s fiancée? We’ve met. More than once.”

“Oh, yes. Miss Archer.” Carlson looks me up and down, and for a second, it feels like he’s going to tell me to go around the servants’ entrance. Then he stands aside with a thin smile. “Do come in. Mrs. Mainwaring was expecting you a while ago.”

I check the time, panicked, but it’s just before three. I follow Carlson through the massive lobby with the grand staircase, and down a long hallway to the back of the house. If this were any other place, I’d be stopping to admire the antiques and classic architecture, but I’m already a bundle of nerves, and I barely notice anything.

Carlson reaches a glass conservatory overlooking the gardens. “Miss Archer,” he announces. I step into the room to find Sylvia seated on a grand armchair that could double as a throne.

“Hi.” I smile nervously and go to give her a kiss on the cheek. She’s immaculately put together as usual in a blue tweed suit with a diamond pin in her lapel. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

“So good of you to finally join us,” Sylvia says coolly. She turns, and I see for the first time we’re not alone: two people are perched on an antique sofa. “This is Andre de la Rocha and Miriam Keller, my personal event planners. May I introduce my son’s fiancée, Chloe.”

I shake their hands and greet them; a maid comes in to serve tea, and finally, we’re all seated on the hard furniture, gripping tiny china cups of watery tea.

“So, we have a lot to plan,” Andre begins, whipping out a large leather file. “Honestly, I’d say push it to the fall, but I get it, we’re on a deadline. Summer, the cathedral, of course, then a reception at the estate. I pulled some dress designs and floral themes, what do you think?”

I open my mouth, but Andre passes the pages to Sylvia instead.

She scans them and makes a tutting noise. “Far too frivolous. This needs to be a classic event. White roses and a long train, who was it that GiGi Westington used? Lovely ceremony, very tasteful.”

“Got it.” He makes a note. “Let’s start with the flowers then. Lilies, of course, I know you.”

Sylvia nods. “But no scent. I can’t abide by it, I was at a party the other week with fresh flowers wafting in every room, you could hardly breathe.”

“I know a hot-house in South America that cultivates them unscented.”

“Very good.”

I watch them talk back and forth as if I’m not even sitting here. “I like the scent of lilies,” I speak up softly. Nobody notices.

“The cathedral can be difficult about décor,” Andre says.

Sylvia smirks. “I’ll give the archbishop a call. I’ve raised enough money for that place, they should let me do whatever I please.”

“Cathedral, check!” Andre announces happily. “It seats, what, seventeen hundred?”

“Thereabouts, yes.”

Wait, what?

They want to invite almost two thousand people to the wedding? I don’t even know two hundred! I clear my throat. “Actually,” I start, awkward. “I was thinking that it could be a smaller event. Just family and close friends. Maybe at the beach?”

Their heads snap around and I’m met with three shocked stares.

“The beach?” Sylvia repeats, as if I just suggested getting hitched at the garbage dump.

“There are some really pretty event spaces,” I continue, pulling out the magazine tears I’ve been collecting. “Or we could even do it at the Mainwaring place on Martha’s Vineyard. Your plans sound lovely,” I add quickly to Andre, not wanting to be rude. “But I’m really not comfortable with anything over the top. Really, a nice simple ceremony is much more my speed.”

There’s silence. Andre and Miriam shoot Sylvia a nervous look. “You know, we’ll give you a moment.” Andre shoots to his feet, and then the two of them scurry out.

Oh crap, I just put my foot in it.

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, when I’m alone with Sylvia. “I really appreciate the help planning this, and of course I want to know what you think. I just really don’t want a big, extravagant event. I don’t like the spotlight. I’d really like this to be a small thing, and I know Max would agree.”

“That’s nice.” Sylvia gives me a chilly smile. “But you have to understand, a small wedding is just impossible. There are hundreds of people who need to be invited: family friends, business acquaintances, patrons of the family foundation. They would be horribly offended if you excluded them. You don’t want that, do you?”

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