by Ali Parker
Verity had her cell phone out by the time we pulled away from the curb. She scrolled through her socials while she sipped her latte.
“I’m looking forward to seeing Kim,” I said. I hadn’t told her that I’d given Kim a heads-up that Verity might want to change some things, especially with regard to our accommodations. There were things my bride-to-be didn’t need to know, and that was one of them. She already had enough on her plate. “I can’t believe how few appointments we have left before the big day.”
“There’s still a lot to do. We have to review and confirm the harpist’s music set and make sure her dress fits her and—” Verity broke off. Her eyes widened and she let out a sharp gasp. “Oh my God. Have you seen this?”
“Seen what?”
“Look.” She turned her phone around and held it in front of my face, showing me a picture of an ornate white wedding. “Do you believe this? Leave it to Shannon to be an absolute show-stopping diva.”
I frowned. Was I missing something?
Verity caught my blank expression. “You remember me telling you about my father’s best friend’s daughter who got married two weeks ago? Shannon?”
“It’s ringing some bells.”
“This is her wedding. White. It’s all white. The roses, the aisle, the bridal party—all of it! And it looks beautiful. Now we have to do something different.”
“Different?”
Verity rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated groan. “Don’t you pay any attention when I’m talking, Rick? This wedding is supposed to be perfect. How am I supposed to have a perfect wedding when someone else has already done it?”
“I didn’t realize perfection meant exclusivity with decor and—”
“Don’t,” she warned.
I shut my mouth.
Verity put her phone away and glared out the window at the passing palm trees. “I won’t be upstaged by Shannon and her teapot-shaped husband. She’s half the woman I am and she knows it. Our wedding is going to be in magazines, baby. It has to be perfect.”
“It will be.” I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I promise.”
Chapter 6
Kimberly
It was just my damn luck that my meeting with Rick and Verity was on a rooftop patio in downtown Waikiki in the blinding sun when I had the world’s angriest hangover headache. My sunglasses shielded against the glare but the way they pressed against the side of my head, like two vise grips, did nothing to make me feel less like my brain was swelling inside my skull.
I sipped at my iced water as my stomach rolled with mild nausea.
Dancing hadn’t been the best idea last night. In the moment, it seemed like a brilliant thing to do. And my dance partner had been a handsome hunk with a body that knew how to move. However, he’d also been a hell of a lot more sober than I was, and trying to pace his drinks had been a terrible mistake.
“I should’ve stuck to water,” I groaned.
The self-pity was real.
Not only did I feel like absolute garbage but I was going to have to face my most high maintenance client of my entire career. Verity soon-to-be Garrett.
“Stupid name,” I muttered.
Verity Garrett. It didn’t have a nice ring to it. Not really.
“Kimberly Garrett sounds much better,” I said to myself.
You’re such a loser.
I drank more water until my server arrived with the light snack I’d ordered to try to appease my unsettled stomach. It was just a simple charcuterie board, nothing too indulgent, and I was successfully able to eat a few bites before I looked up and saw my clients coming.
There he was. Rick fucking Garrett.
He was easily the sexiest man alive. The celebrities on the recent covers of Men’s Magazine couldn’t hold a candle to him.
He and Verity walked across the rooftop patio toward me. I wasn’t sure if it was my hungover brain or the pheromones he exuded, but it seemed as if he moved in slow motion.
Rick was dressed in a dark navy suit. His jacket was open, exposing a white button-up. The top few buttons were undone, and when the sunlight fell upon him, I could see a little bit of darkness near his chest. The mystery of whether or not it was chest hair or a tattoo made him even sexier to me. I’d often wondered what lay beneath the layers of clothes he wore. Based on what little skin I’d seen of his—basically just a bit of chest and some really muscular vein-ridden forearms—he was athletic. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a six-pack hiding under his expensive suit.
His hair was dark and messy. If he had styled it earlier, it had been messed up by the coastal breeze. He was clean shaven today and his jaw was sharp enough to slice the cheese on my charcuterie board. I indulged in a brief fantasy of slicing cheese and hand feeding him grapes.
I gave my head a shake. Be professional, Kim.
Rick flashed me a smile when he saw me. I got to my feet and clasped my hands in front of myself while I waited for them to reach me.
Verity beat her fiancé to me. She shook my hand and pulled her massive designer sunglasses off. “Hi, Kim,” she said in her usual dismissive tone. “I’m relieved to see you. We have so much to discuss.”
“Good morning, Verity. It’s good to see you too. Rick.” I tipped my head to him.
He reached out and clasped my hand as Verity took her seat. His grip was warm and firm. “Morning,” he said. His voice was deep and masculine and I felt it rumble through my veins like an inevitable landslide.
I shuddered.
Rick released me and claimed his seat beside his fiancée. He kept his sunglasses on, silver-framed aviators, and leaned back in his chair. He had the air of a man who knew how important he was but didn’t flaunt it. How he managed to walk such a fine line of prowess and humility, I had no idea. But he did it. And damn was it ever sexy.
He’s like the embodiment of a jaguar, I thought as I sat back down. A wise, sleek, sexy—
Verity picked up a menu from the middle of the table, lifted her other hand, and snapped her fingers, beckoning the server to come take her order.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment at the gesture and I resisted the urge to mouth “I’m sorry” to the young man who appeared at our table to take our order. He pulled a small notebook out of his waist apron and flipped the cover over while producing a pen seemingly out of thin air. Knowing Verity was the most high maintenance at the table, he turned to her and asked for her order first.
Verity didn’t bother to look up from the menu as she pored over the drink selection. She hummed while running a red-painted finger along her full bottom lip, completely oblivious to the server’s time and my thinning patience.
There was nothing I found more intolerable than entitled wealthy people. And Verity was the definition of just that.
“Do you want a couple more minutes to decide?” Rick asked, placing a gentle hand upon her upper back so his fingers rested at the nape of her neck. She didn’t push into his touch or offer him a warm smile like I might have had he touched me in such an affectionate way.
Instead, she rolled her shoulders as if dismissing him, slapped the menu closed, and handed it to the waiter. “I’ll take a glass of champagne.”
The server nodded politely and shifted his attention to me. “And for you, miss? Would you still like to stick to your water for now?”
I gave him a smile that I hoped made up for Verity’s rudeness. “Yes, water is good for me. Thank you.”
Rick ordered himself a beer and the server took his leave. Verity busied herself with applying a fresh coat of lip gloss, smacked her lips together, slid the tube back into her purse, and finally cleared her throat to get my attention, even though she already had it.
“I need to speak with you about some things I’m not happy about.” Verity lifted her chin as if she expected me to give her some pushback.
I had no intention of doing such a thing. The wedding was a big deal to me too and the last thing I needed for my career was to h
ave Verity upset afterward. She was without a doubt the sort of woman who would slam my name in every magazine article she had a chance to be interviewed for. That wasn’t good press. I needed the woman to love every part of her wedding, and even though achieving such a feat would be—and already had been—an absolute nightmare, I was up to the challenge.
Verity shifted in her seat and flipped her hair over her opposite shoulder. “Well, I want to start with the accommodations. Our hotel suite is not nearly as romantic as I’d hoped. Our discussions led me to believe that it would be much more glamorous and unique but it’s…” She trailed off and turned to Rick. “What do you think, baby?”
Rick had been stroking his jaw and his hand fell still when she turned it on him. “I wasn’t displeased with the room. I also suspect it would be done up differently on our wedding night?”
“Yes,” I said. “This visit is more about seeing the actual wedding venue in person so you have a good sense of where you’ll be on the wedding day so you can plan accordingly. As you’ve requested, your suite will be used for you and your bridesmaids to get ready in. The photographer will arrive to take pictures in the suite and then down the hall in the second room where the men will be getting ready.”
Verity sighed. “I know all this already, Kim. But I can’t help it. I’m not satisfied.”
I studied her and maintained an impassive, neutral expression. “What would you like to change?”
“I want to find new accommodations. Find us another hotel, preferably something more modern, and arrange transportation to take both bridal parties separately back to The Plumeria.”
This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
Rick seemed to pick up on my hesitation. “Is this doable, Kim?”
I had two options. I could agree with the bride and make this happen as per her request, or I could use my years of experience to guide her in the right direction. “Verity, I hear you. And I understand that you’re not satisfied with your room. However, I think you should be cautious about making last-minute changes like this. You’ve booked the most extravagant wedding package offered in all of Honolulu—actually, in all of Hawaii. That means on your big day, you have a very tight schedule, and believe me, you’re going to need a minute to breathe. It makes so much more sense to stay at The Plumeria and get ready there rather than stretch yourself too thin. I want this day to be perfect. I assure you. And I am making this recommendation on those grounds. Please consider it.”
Rick leaned back in his chair and glanced at his fiancée. “Thoughts? I think Kim raises a good point.”
Verity crossed her arms over her chest. Her bottom lip puckered.
Are you seriously pouting right now? I internally rolled my eyes.
“It’s too simple there,” Verity said. “Shannon Arbertine got married two weeks ago and her wedding shoot is all over the internet.”
“I’ve seen pictures,” I said.
Verity leaned forward and pressed a red-tipped nail to the table. “I will not be upstaged by her. Do you hear me? This wedding will be bigger and better than a wedding any Arbertine could throw together. My father is flying out from the Bahamas and I don’t want him to worry that his little girl is settling. He and Shannon’s father have a lot of bad blood between them.”
My eyes darted to Rick and then back to his fiancée. “Settling?”
The word left my mouth before I had time to process that I had spoken. Weddings weren’t about spitting in the faces of old family rivals. They were about love. And solidarity. And proclaiming to all your friends and family your commitment to each other and the life you intend to build with one another.
Verity grabbed Rick’s hand and pulled it into her lap. She traced figure-eight patterns on the back of his hand and ran her thumb across his knuckles while smiling sweetly up at him. “Rick understands what I mean. My father is a particular man. He just wants to make sure his baby girl is in good hands.”
I felt my eyebrows twitch so I picked up my water to buy myself a second to collect my composure. I set the glass down. “If you need more luxurious decor to appease your father, I will make it happen.”
Verity missed the subtle jab at her but I doubted Rick did. Over the next hour and a half, Verity covered the list of things she wanted changed, including her floral arrangements and color selections for most of her linens and backdrop decor. It was a tall order but I had good connections with vendors who were also going to benefit from the publicity of this wedding and I knew they’d be in my corner to make this show go on.
Verity was on her third glass of champagne when Rick glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Ladies, I’m sorry but I have to go. I promised Chessie that I’d take her out this afternoon and I’m already running late.”
Verity rolled her eyes and sipped from her champagne flute.
Bitch, I thought sharply.
“You two go,” Verity said. “I’m going to stay for lunch.” She snapped her fingers again to call the server over.
Rick got to his feet and did up his suit jacket. I stood as well and was eager to make a hasty exit before the poor server returned. Rick leaned over and kissed Verity goodbye. He whispered something in her ear that made her smile and I was struck with a pang of jealousy I resented almost as much as Verity’s shitty manners.
“Can I walk you down?” Rick asked.
I nodded, wished Verity a good afternoon, and fell into step beside him as we crossed the rooftop patio and made for the restaurant doors. I caught our reflection in the glass as we approached and was glad my dark sunglasses hid my eyes so he couldn’t see me checking him out.
We looked good together.
Hell, we looked great together.
But apparently, I wasn’t his type. He preferred spoiled daddy’s girls who still somehow managed to have an inferiority complex, even though they’d been given every privilege under the sun.
Rich bitches.
Rick tugged open the restaurant door for me and I stepped inside.
Chapter 7
Rick
The temperature was significantly hotter down on street level. I unbuttoned my jacket and shrugged out of it to drape it over my shoulders as I approached the curb and waved down my limo parked just down the block.
Kim shielded her eyes against the sun and looked both ways down the street to get her bearings.
“Is your hotel nearby?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, I took a cab here. I was considering walking back but I didn’t wear the most practical shoes.” She flashed me a white smile and laughed at her own expense. “You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now.”
“Can I give you a ride?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t want to be an inconvenience, especially if Chessie is waiting on you.”
Her thoughtfulness toward my daughter made me smile. “Nonsense. Let me drop you off. I’m already late anyway and Chessie would understand. You never leave a woman waiting on the side of the road.”
Kim laughed. “You don’t have to convince me you’re chivalrous, Rick. I already know.”
The limo pulled up to the curb and I opened the back door for her. Kim stepped in, one long leg at a time, and found her seat as I followed her in. The cab was cool and still smelled faintly of Verity’s Chanel perfume that cost me just over four thousand dollars.
Per ounce.
It smelled good. But it didn’t smell that good.
Verity insisted it was her signature scent however, and my woman got what she wanted when she wanted it. With a bank account as full as mine, it was impossible to say no to her. And I didn’t want to say no, either. She was used to living a life of luxury and I didn’t expect her to have to change her ways. Her father had doted on her and I planned on doing the same thing.
Just as I did with my daughter.
Kim pulled out her phone when we started moving and began typing away on her touchscreen. “Sorry, Rick. This is rude of me. I’m just putting some notes in my phone abo
ut what Verity wants so I don’t forget anything.”
“No need to apologize.”
Kim glanced up and gave me an appreciative smile.
“I’m sorry about how particular Verity is being. I know it makes your job significantly more difficult.” I chuckled. “Actually, I think my fiancée makes a lot of people’s jobs significantly more difficult.”
“It’s all right.”
“She just wants everything to be just right.”
Kim put her phone down on her thigh. “Don’t worry, Rick. I’ve had my fair share of particular brides. It’s my job to make sure she’s happy. That’s what you’re paying me for. But it’s also my job to make sure you’re happy. Is there anything you would like to see changed?”
“Me?”
She giggled. “Yes, you. This is your wedding too, you know?”
I shrugged. “I did the whole wedding thing once and it sort of blew up in my face. The flowers and the linens don’t matter to me. It’s what comes after the wedding that matters to me.”
“That’s actually kind of sweet.”
“I don’t think Verity appreciates my taste anyway.”
Kim nodded knowingly. “Probably not. I recall you suggesting when we first started consultations that you liked the idea of yellow flowers.”
“I still don’t understand what was wrong with that.”
“Nothing is wrong with it,” Kim said innocently. “But it was a bit of a tone-deaf suggestion. Do you really see Verity as a yellow-wedding sort of woman?”
“I suppose not.”
“At least you didn’t suggest green.”
I blinked. “What the hell is wrong with green?”
Kim put her phone away and laughed as she shook her head and gazed out the window. “Never mind. I think you made the right call bowing out of the details. You’ll make a wonderful husband but I don’t think wedding planning is your strong suit.”
“Agreed. And thank you.”
Kim rested her chin in her hand and continued gazing out the window as we rounded a bend in the road, revealing the sandy beach. She let out an almost dreamy sigh and smiled at the surfers and the children frolicking in the sand.
