Page 25 of 4 Weddings and a Feud

ChapterEleven

Whoever created La Villa’s elevator music should have their ASCAP card revoked. How could someone turn the Pussycat Dolls’ “I Don’t Need a Man” into a lullaby?

It didn’t take much to make her sleepy these days. She loved planning weddings, but the highs and lows were getting to her. Evie had accepted her offer. Burned out on bridezillas, she’d welcomed the opportunity to help Mary with the car business. So Mary had spent all day Monday training her on the inventory and rental systems. It was only last night that she’d had time to narrow a selection of invitations for Teagan and Twyla’s wedding.

She’d devoted this morning to Cierra’s wedding and cake tasting. Although she’d laughed until her stomach ached at watching Cierra’s and Sawyer’s overblown reactions to each bite of cake, the sugar crash and headache that followed made it difficult for her to focus on the walkthrough of the reception venue with the aerialist. When she’d stumbled over nothing in the grassy area where her friend Saanvi planned to set up her aerial rig, Saanvi had asked Mary if she was okay. Of course, she’d nodded and said she was fine.

She had to be fine. She had a third wedding to wrangle. And it was only a month away.

She’d worked on her binder for the Richardson wedding between customers on the weekend and during her lunch break Monday, but it wasn’t as complete as she wanted it to be. And she didn’t have time to get organized tonight since she had to drive. Thank goodness it was a sixtieth birthday and not a bachelor party like the ones Michael and Rafe were handling. She hoped they’d end the night before 2 A.M., but the last time she’d driven a group of mature ladies, they’d stayed out until sunrise.

Five minutes’ rest would help.

She leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator as it ascended toward Alex’s office and let her eyes close for a second.

She opened them again when someone bumped her hand, sending shooting pain from her crooked finger up her arm. The jolt of adrenaline popped her eyes open. Dammit, she’d missed her stop, and the elevator had returned to the ground floor. “Thirty-three, please,” she said to the man in full-body gold makeup standing next to the panel. He looked like the copy of Michaelangelo’sDaviddownstairs except for his teeny tiny gold Speedo. He nodded and pressed the button.

She gripped her tote bag with the heavy binder as the elevator rose. She couldn’t be off her game on the call with Rochelle and Rohaan. To ensure their wedding went perfectly—and earn her new, tripled fee—she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

This time, she got off on the correct floor. The receptionist pointed her to the corner of the building, and she hurried to the impressive-looking pair of dark wood doors. A woman with gorgeous brown skin and white hair smiled at her from a desk just outside the doors.

She rose. “You must be Miss Forza. I’m Yasmin.”

“Please, call me Mary. And I’m sorry I cut it so close.”

“It’s fine. Go right in, and I’ll connect the call.”

Mary pushed open the heavy door. It closed silently behind her, and she stepped onto the thick rug. Alex’s office was almost as large as her entire house, ten times bigger than her tiny office at Forza Elite Motors. What would she do with all this space? She wouldn’t have to keep her growing collection of ribbons, tulle, and favor bags in her guest room closet, that’s what.

Unlike the public areas downstairs with their Renaissance-style paintings, Alex’s office was decorated in a simple, contemporary style. A giant wall-mounted video screen overlooked a long conference table on one side. On the other side was an expensive-looking seating area under a watercolor of red roses. Fresh peonies spilled from a vase on the coffee table. She inhaled their fragrance.

Alex leaned a hip against his desk and stared out the enormous window with a view of the Strip and its cluster of hotels. In the daylight, they looked sun-bleached and ordinary, letting the hazy purple mountains behind them steal the show.

Mary couldn’t see his face, but his back was more relaxed than she remembered seeing it since high school. Well before graduation. What did he see out his window that soothed him?

Although she could have watched him and speculated forever, the call with Rochelle was set to start in just a couple of minutes. When she cleared her throat, he turned and smiled.

“Mary. Thank you for coming.” He stepped around the desk, buttoning his blue sport coat. He looked handsome and well-rested, like always. There were no dark shadows under his eyes.

Mary stopped herself from patting at the concealer caked under hers. “Of course. I’m looking forward to earning my tripled fee.”

He chuckled, but she could tell he didn’t believe her. They both knew she’d caved because of the way he’d reached for her hand and said, “I need you, Mary.” She’d been powerless to resist the plea in his bottomless brown eyes.

She was a sucker, and she hated herself for it. Someday, she’d be able to say no to him.

Today wasn’t that day.

As he approached, his cologne wafted into her nostrils. Vanilla, with something spicy. And a flowery note, too, but that could’ve been the peonies. Despite the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, standing beside him was like walking through a garden at night, brushing against soft leaves and silky petals.

His hand landed lightly on her back, and he gestured at the conference table with the other. “We can take the call there.”

His hand felt…nice. Warm. Solid. Like the friend she used to rely on. She let him guide her to the conference table. He pulled out one of the cushy leather chairs, and she sank into its cloudlike softness.

“Can I get you anything? A drink?” he asked.

The phone on the conference table trilled.

“No, thank you. Sorry I was almost late.”

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