Confessions of a Wedding Planner (Bliss Series Book 1)

by Michelle Jo Quinn

  I sauntered over to the quiet couple, with my work smile on my face. A smile that I wore during 'shitstorms', as Chase would have said. Sandrine smiled back at me, but it failed to appear in her eyes. She was distressed. She greeted me customarily and muttered, “Welcome.”

  Jake, holding a crystal tumbler, half-filled with amber liquid on ice, hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek, lingering a little too long. I could feel the tremble of his body, and hear the grinding of his teeth.

  I switched immediately to 'solver-mode'. There was trouble in paradise. I could see it in the lack of glint in Sandrine's eyes. I could smell it emanating through Jake's pores. I felt it through the slump of his hard shoulders.

  "This is a beautiful home, Sandrine. I'm in complete awe." Uncertain of what was going on, I tested my words carefully with her.

  She beamed warmly at me, as Jake snorted at my compliments, which Sandrine and I merrily ignored. "Merci. Thank you. My parents are very proud of it." She visibly gulped down her nervousness. Was she uncomfortable in her own home? "Let me introduce you to them."

  Jake scoffed. "Like that's what Nica needs right now."

  "Jacob, I beg of you." Sandrine’s voice was almost a whisper. She took my hand in hers, turning away from her sulking fiancé. It struck me how odd it was he’d been doing a lot of sulking lately.

  I gave Jake a questioning look before moving away. Sandrine led me to the three elegant people on the right side of the room. The woman was seated in a Louis XIV chair, her décolletage covered with diamonds glittering with the light of the chandelier. The closer I got, the more familiar she looked. Sandrine resembled her. The bride-to-be should thank her lucky stars that she might inherit the slow-aging process her mother seemed to have.

  "Maman, I would like to introduce you to Veronique. She is my planner for the wedding. Veronique, this is my mother, Vivienne Antoinette Saint-Croix." I didn't know whether I should curtsy, or wait for her hand to extend so I could kiss the top of her ring.

  Vivienne Saint-Croix held her chin high, appraised me with calculating eyes, and most likely found me lacking. She said nothing to me and turned to Sandrine, speaking in rapid French. Sandrine, in return, retorted in the same language. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I knew an argument when I heard one.

  The older man in the trio spoke up, instantly quieting down the mother-daughter squabble. Then he faced me, his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. He walked around the chair Vivienne was seated in and stretched out his hand.

  " My name is François-Luc André Saint-Croix, Sandrine's Papa. Welcome to our home, Mademoiselle Veronique." I extended my hand so that I might shake his, but he turned it palm down and placed a kiss on my fingers.

  "Oh! Well, it's such a pleasure to meet you." I glanced at Vivienne as François released my hand. "Both of you. I was just telling Sandrine how lovely this place…your home is."

  "Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle. Thank you very much," François said, nodding. "You must forgive my wife. She does not understand the American way of putting together a very important event such as a wedding."

  Oh, so that was what the argument was about? She didn’t want a wedding planner?

  Vivienne tilted her head up higher and spat out words in French at her husband. Sandrine joined in, and the three of them argued amongst themselves. All I could understand were the names I knew—Jake, Sandrine, even my name (or the French version of it) and Olivier.

  Speaking of whom, I briefly looked around, almost expecting to see Levi seated at a corner, with a drink in hand, laughing merrily at the cacophony in front of me. But he wasn't present at all. A clearing of the throat alerted me. I turned to the source and stared right at the gorgeous man in a bespoke suit.

  He oozed charm, his teeth as white as the smooth limestone busts out in the hallway. He had a masculine, strong jaw, eyes as blue as the ocean, and thick dark hair combed back. Debonair was an understatement for this man. He was Jake and Levi put together. I never thought it was possible, but there he was, in the flesh.

  "I suppose I should introduce myself." Beaming smile. "My name is Gaspard des Rochers. I am...a friend of the family."

  Weakened by Gaspard, I offered my hand and just let him do what he wanted with it. When his soft lips pressed against my fingers, goose pimples covered my entire body. He glanced up through lashes I would kill for, a smile hovering on my limp hand.

  He straightened up when a hand clapped over his shoulder.

  "I see you've met the enchanting Veronica."

  Levi.

  "Indeed, I have." Gaspard was still holding my hand, but when I caught Levi’s glance, I jerked it away and kept it behind me.

  "Levi," I squeaked out.

  He stepped forward and kissed my cheek. "Hello, my sweet. Glad you made it."

  Under Gaspard's spell, I didn't notice that Sandrine's argument with her parents had stopped. Sandrine stood aside, pouting, almost in tears, and her parents were murmuring to each other. Gaspard whispered something to Levi, who then responded by smirking and shaking his head. I sensed an evil plan in the making, as they both trained their eyes on me and simultaneously smirked. My cheeks burned like I was standing right in the fireplace.

  "That's it! Nica, may I talk to you for a second?" Jake grabbed my arm and started to pull me aside.

  For whatever reason, it ignited something vile from Sandrine's mother. In return, Sandrine started yelling at her mother, her voice echoing in the grand room. "Just leave him alone, Maman! He is my fiancé, and I am marrying him."

  Vivienne returned fire. This time, she spoke in accented English. How I wished she had stuck to French. "He is not good for you! He is a peasant! He is an Americain. Mon Dieu! Why couldn't you return to Gaspard and marry him as you were born to do?"

  Uhm, what?

  All was lost after that. The shitstorm of all shitstorms began.

  Sandrine shouted back, pointing at Jake and Gaspard, and her parents. Her eyes filled with tears as her voice increased in volume. Vivienne pointed her dainty fingers at Jake, while also yelling at Sandrine, her husband and anyone nearby, including me.

  Gaspard blurted a few comments at both women. When he reached out for Sandrine, Jake, who had been just an observer, shoved Gaspard, making the latter step back and knock an antique vase resting on a side table.

  "Don't you dare touch her!" Jake shouted. When it wasn't enough, he bunched his hand into a fist, and it met with the other man's beautiful face.

  Shock and fear rolled into the room. My voice was thick in my throat. I sucked in a hiss.

  Trent and Landon came rushing to support their cousin. Levi and François helped Gaspard back on his feet. Isobel stood back, her hand clasped over her mouth. Vivienne gasped. Sandrine visibly shook, and she shouted when Gaspard retaliated.

  The two men, in all their suited glories, returned punch after punch, crashing against chairs and pushing more vases onto the floor, and spraying blood on the rugs and the tapestries. Trent and Landon tried to hold Jake back, and Levi stood between him and Gaspard, who was lying on the floor, wiping blood off the side of his mouth.

  "This is the man you want to marry? Look at what he has done!" Vivienne yelled at her daughter, sobbing on the sidelines.

  Sandrine, trying to swipe any and all of the tears off her face, took a step forward. She knelt down to check on Gaspard's bloodied, split lip and the cut on his nose.

  "Sandrine?" Jake's quiet voice echoed loudly as he witnessed what his fiancée was doing. "You're choosing him?"

  Sandrine hiccuped and sobbed. "Non, mon amour. 'e is hurt." She looked up at Jake, eyes pleading.

  Jake took in what was happening before him—Sandrine's hand on Gaspard's arm, and one on his lip. "What about me?" Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  "Jacob, please," Sandrine begged him to understand.

  "Screw this." Jake pulled away from his cousins' holds and stepped toward Sandrine and Gaspard on the floor. Then he stared at Vivienne. Everyone was
ready to pounce, but he squared shoulders and lengthened his spine. "You've got your wish. Marry your daughter off to her childhood sweetheart."

  "Jacob," Sandrine gasped. She stood, reaching out to Jake with her hand, smeared with Gaspard's blood.

  Jake narrowed his eyes at her, but they widened, first in disbelief morphing into anger, as he stared at her hand. "Wedding's off."

  Thirteen

  The Wedding Planner

  I stood at the threshold, mouth agape, unwilling to believe what I had witnessed. I didn't even remember walking away from the fight. If there was a patron saint of wedding planners, I would've prayed to him/her by now. A tug on my hand jolted me.

  Isobel glared at everyone in the room, while she kept pulling on my hand. "Nica, c'mon. Let's leave this circus!" Her voice wasn't soft at all, and it echoed throughout the room.

  I had broken up fights before, but I always had security (Chase) around. And never had it involved people I deeply cared for. I turned toward the hallway where Trent and Landon were trying to keep up with an apoplectic Jake. A loud cry brought my attention back to the room.

  Sandrine had collapsed back on the floor and was sobbing her mascara off. Her shoulders shook as she mumbled into her palms. Her father knelt on one knee beside her, rubbing his daughter's back. Vivienne stood proud and incensed, glaring in my direction with pure hatred in her eyes. Hadn't she realized that, like her, I was only a witness to this whole debacle? Was she blaming me for this?

  Gaspard stayed seated on the parquet floor, carefully rubbing the blood off his lips and chin. An egg-sized con t usion had started to form underneath his left eye. Jake had done some damage on this man's beautiful face. Gaspard's perfectly regal nose was twisted. I had no doubt it was broken.

  "Nica, let's go." Isobel tugged again.

  In two strides, Levi stood before me. "Go with him. Make sure he doesn't pull any more stupid stunts. He's done a hell of a lot of damage here. I'll check on you later." Levi circled a hand around my arm. For a moment, I thought he'd pull me into an embrace and tell me that everything would be okay, but he didn't. He stared into my eyes with what seemed an apologetic look and walked away.

  I turned and gave into Isobel's pull. I’d taken a couple of steps when some unknown force made me turn back. I wished I didn't. Levi stood, facing Sandrine. Her face was buried in his chest. His arms were wrapped around her, and his hand was rubbing her back. His lips touched the top of her head.

  Levi had chosen Sandrine over Jake. He had chosen her over his best friend. Moreover, he had chosen her over me.

  I bit my lip when at the unexpected stab of jealousy. I had no claim on Levi. He wasn't mine. We had no relationship.

  With no other choice, I walked forward until the cool night air greeted me. I tried and failed to erase that last image in my mind.

  Jake had left with his cousins. Isobel and I were left to take the car that had brought me to the manor. The ride back to my hotel was unexpectedly quiet.

  "Can we get something to eat? I'm starving," Isobel asked when I made the move to step out of the car.

  I wasn't hungry, and I feared that anything I ate would eventually make its way up again. But I gave in like I always did with the Benjamins.

  She chose the first restaurant that suited her, just south of my hotel. It had old world charm with red velvet curtains and gilded chandeliers. It, unfortunately, reminded me of the manor and made me wonder what could be happening there at the moment.

  Without looking through the menu, I asked for soup in plain English, without a care whether our server understood me or not. I patiently waited for Isobel to decide and attempt to order her dinner in French.

  As soon as our server left, I couldn't help the questions from spilling out. "Who the hell is Gaspard? And why was he there? What was it about him that made Jake explode?"

  Isobel pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow. "Don't they tell you anything? Gaspard was Sandrine's ex-fiancé. I don't know what he was doing there. I think Sandrine's parents invited him to piss off Jake."

  "They were engaged? For how long?"

  "Years. Decades. I don’t know.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It was arranged, of course. I'm sure money had a lot to do with it. That's why I didn't trust Sandrine. How could anyone break a long-term engagement like that and then turn around and get engaged again to someone she met less than three months ago?"

  " Jake knew about the engagement?"

  Isobel looked about the room. "Yeah. He told me about her previous engagement to Gaspard. It's shitty. But hey, at least you don't have to sabotage their wedding." She smirked at me.

  I popped open my mouth and was ready for a rebuttal when our waiter came back with Isobel's drink and poured me a glass of water. As soon as he trotted off, I spat out, "I never said I was going to sabotage their wedding. I had no intentions of doing so."

  But Isobel was unaffected. "Oh well, it's over now."

  "Aren't you at least a bit upset for your brother?"

  With her eyes rolling, Isobel tsked at me. "Nica, I'm glad that it's come to this. She was going to take Jake away from us!" She reached for my hand.

  Her outburst garnered a few uncomfortable looks from other diners, but unaware, she continued, "They were going to move to some third world country and join Doctors Without Borders. Like, are you kidding me? That's my brother! Hell no. I'm not letting a little French twit take him away from me."

  Selfish as Isobel might have been, at least I knew she cared for her brother.

  Was this Jake's plan or was it Sandrine's? Jake had never shared that he wanted to work abroad, but he had always been a philanthropist.

  "It was Jake's choice. It's what he wants to do," I mumbled.

  "Nica, don't be ridiculous. Jake would never be caught with such a stupid idea."

  "It’s not stupid. It's commendable..."

  Isobel interrupted, "Second of all, it doesn't matter because the wedding is off." Thinking our conversation had finished, she leaned back with her arms crossed over her chest.

  Our server came back to give us bread, which neither of us touched. Isobel struggled to keep quiet. And when she couldn't anymore, she blurted out, "Gaspard was hot, though. Well, until Jake did a number on his face."

  I took the bait. "I never thought he could be so...violent." I used to think he couldn't hurt a fly.

  With a glass tilted to her lips, Isobel snorted. "Right. He's been getting into trouble since college. Jake and Levi even formed their own fight club. A couple of dingbats. You should have seen my mom's face when Jake came home with a black eye for the first time."

  "Fight club? That’s a little far-fetched, don’t you think?"

  "Not at all. How do you think he and Levi met? Levi was in business, and he was pre-med. Not even the same fraternity. They became best friends because of that stupid underground club."

  I didn't know. I only knew that Jake and Levi met during undergrad.

  Isobel was in a sharing mood, and she kept telling me things I should have known but was too naïve to have asked. "They got into all sorts of trouble. Jake was such a player back then, too. I guess it came with the bad boy vibe. He dated skank after skank. My parents were so worried that one of them was going to get pregnant or something. Then Jake went to med school. We had no way of knowing if he’d stopped his shenanigans or not. Mom just hoped he did."

  Jake? A player? No, not the Jake I fell in love with. I would never have thought that with how amazing he was with me. I stayed silent, waiting for her to continue, but our waiter chose that moment to appear with our meals: a creamy soup for me, an artfully plated dinner for Isobel. She dug in right away, not bothering to appreciate the skill presented to her. She was blind to the beauty. Was I blindly in love with Jake?

  "You have to imagine my mom's relief when he brought you home." I gave her a curt nod. I distinctly remembered how sweet Jake's mother had been when we had dinner at their home. I had been so nervous, and she was so welcoming. Now I knew why. "T
hen months later, he brought Sandrine home. We didn't even know you guys broke up until that night. Mom took a liking to her, of course, because she's pretty, a doctor, and French."

  Had it come from any other person, I would have broken down and cried, but Isobel was with me, and I doubted she could handle it. I didn't touch my soup. I waited until Isobel finished her meal. When she asked if I wanted dessert, not checking if I even ate my dinner, I excused myself and told her that I was going to walk back to my hotel.

  I had a lot of questions—some only Jake could answer, others, I was afraid, were all up to me to figure out.

  Taking my time, I trudged through familiar streets. The city had a certain allure. Lovers held each other out in the open; friends celebrated. This was the city where Jake fell in love with Sandrine. And tonight, this was where their relationship came to a sudden end. Paris kept their secrets. I ’d adored Jake this whole time, wanted him to leave Sandrine for so long. Now that it happened, I was starting to question my real feelings for Jake. How could I have fallen in love with a man I barely even knew?

  Once I returned to my hotel, the lobby was buzzing, despite the late hour. I took the first available elevator to my floor and held onto every vestige of courage I had left. I was unsure of myself more than I had ever been in all my love life. I couldn't let myself fall apart in front of strangers in a confined space. Turning the corner toward my room, I readied myself for the onslaught of panic, confusion, and tears that would undoubtedly come.

  When I saw the tall figure leaning on my door, my heart stopped.

  Fourteen

  The Ex

  "I’ve been waiting for you. Where have you been?" Jake asked. I stood there, head lowered, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I was afraid to show my emotions to strangers in the elevator, unknowing that I would be faced with the most unfamiliar man of all. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  "Oh, yeah, of course." Fishing in my clutch for the key card, I unlocked the door and held it open to let him pass through. I didn’t know why but something made me I crane my neck around to see if there were any shadows lurking in the hallway. There was nothing but silence and semi-darkness. Feeling desolate and dejected, for reasons unclear to me, I closed the door and turned to face my ex-boyfriend.