The wedding planner looked skeptical. “There are a limited number of appropriate venues in the city. Short of a cancellation coming through, I’m not sure what you’d like me to do.”
“Why don’t we give you some time to come up with a few location suggestions,” Allison said, trying to keep the peace. “Tell us about the menu and flower selections you have available.”
Molly shot her a grateful look. “Yes, of course. Our normal catering companies are quite booked as well but there is one agency that I’m sure would be able to squeeze you in. They do wonderful finger food. Lots of Asian fusion flavors.”
“My sister has been living in France. We will have traditional French flavors and a sit down meal at the reception.”
Molly pursued her lips. “I’m not sure that will be possible.”
“Flowers,” Allison cut in, predicting the way Darian’s thoughts would be running. “Tell us about our flower choices.”
“You’ll have more flexibility there. My florist has regular shipments, though this time of year you’ll probably be seeing a lot of calla lilies or chrysanthemums. The fall flowers are wonderful for earth-toned wedding themes.”
“Peonies are Jenny’s favorite flower.”
Both women sighed.
“Mr. King, I apologize, but I am not a miracle worker,” Molly said. “I would love to create a special event for your sister, but I would ask you to temper your expectations slightly. Then I’m sure we can find middle ground that your sister will appreciate.”
A slow smile crossed Darian’s face, one Allison had seen in many a boardroom. “My dear Ms. Moreau, I do not temper expectations. Ever. I think we are done here.” He pushed to his feet.
Molly’s mouth dropped open. “I assure you, Mr. King, I am the premier wedding planner in the city. If anyone can pull off this wedding in so little time, it’s me.”
“There are always alternatives, Ms. Moreau. Good day to you.” Darian headed for the door.
“Dammit,” Allison muttered. She fished her card from her purse then held it out to the shocked planner. “Get together some figures and a plan, and email me.”
Grabbing her purse, she dashed after her boss.
…
Darian had pressed the elevator button half a dozen times before Allison caught up to him.
“Were you going to leave me?” she demanded, racing up to his side.
He looked down at her. “Of course not.”
Her soft scoff told him clearly she didn’t believe him. He ran a hand over his jaw so that she wouldn’t see him smile. Not many people in his life dared contradict him, but Ali had never had a problem speaking her mind.
Not to him.
“Ready to walk me through your thought process back there?” she said, crossing her arms. “That woman really is the best in the city. We were lucky to see her today.”
He sighed. “I know.”
Allison shook her head as the elevator doors opened. “Well, we’ve got the other numbers. We can interview a few more planners. Maybe you’ll like one of them better.”
A knot twisted in his chest. “Do you think they’ll tell us anything different?”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze as they stepped into the elevator. A sure sign she agreed but didn’t want to admit it.
“You knew planning a wedding in a month would be an impossible task,” she pointed out. “At least a large scale society affair. Something’s got to give, Darian.”
He stood silently as the elevator began its descent.
“Hey.” She reached out to put a hand on his arm. His arm tensed at the simple touch, and he stared down at her slender fingers. It wasn’t often she touched him freely, but when she did, something uncoiled inside of him.
How does she do that?
He meant to speak of the dozens of wedding planners they could call. He should have talked about the alternative options that had been running through his mind.
Instead a very different phrase left his lips. “It’s Jenny.”
He watched the irritation vanish from her expression as if it’d never been there. Instead those soulful eyes of hers filled with an understanding he couldn’t look away from.
“I know,” she said, her fingers squeezing his arm.
“This has to be perfect.” After the hell his sister had gone through growing up, he owed her at least as perfect a wedding as he could create.
She sighed. “I know,” she repeated. “Corporate takeovers you can handle in your sleep, but when it comes to family…”
Everything was different.
Staring up at the descending numbers above the door, he confessed, “She’s moving. Again.” His fists clenched despite himself.
“Ah,” she murmured. “This isn’t your last chance to take care of her, Darian.”
A smile twisted his lips, and he didn’t need a mirror to know it wasn’t pleasant. “It might be. I have to get this right.”
She took his clenched hand in hers, gently running her thumb along his tense knuckles. Under her touch, some of the tension in his body started to drain away. He watched her, uneasy about his reaction.
“So what do you want to do?” she asked. “The wedding planner wasn’t wrong. Any of them would have similar problems working in this timeframe.”
He sighed. “I know. I just—” He stopped, his eyes going to hers.
“What?”
A slow grin curved his lips, and in response, her shoulders stiffened.
“I know that look. What are you thinking?” she demanded, pulling away from him.
The distance she put between them rankled him, but he refused to dwell on it.
“A wedding planner might compromise. They have to do what’s best for their business, after all,” he said.
She shrugged. “Probably.”
“But I know a woman just as driven and determined as I am. One who does the impossible on a daily basis.”
Her eyes widened as she caught on to his train of thought. “Don’t even think it.”
“You can’t deny we’re a killer team.”
“In the office.”
He reached out to cup her arms. “Come on.”
She shook her head. “Nope. Not doing it, and no bonus will make me.”
Catching her hand, he pressed it against his chest, gratified to see her eyes widen. Ali off balance was far easier to convince than when she was on her guard.
“Darian,” she hissed, trying to pull her hand back. “You always do this. Come up with elaborate schemes that I have to find a way to make work. I’m not doing it again.”
“I know there’s a romantic lurking somewhere underneath all those suits of yours,” he said. “Allison Reed, will you plan a wedding with me?”
“Give me my hand back.”
“Not until you give me the answer I want.”
A smile tugged at her mouth, but he watched her choke it back, as if refusing to encourage him.
“Almost the ground floor,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere until you agree. We’ll ride this elevator till we’re old and gray.” His fingers tightened on her hand. “Please,” he said, a word that rarely entered his vocabulary. “I need you, Ali. Help me.”
Those deep brown eyes met his again for a brief moment before she looked away.
“Okay. Fine. You win. I’ll help you. But I’m not doing this alone. You have to be there every step of the way, too.”
The smile that stretched his lips was unfeigned. “Oh, I intend to be,” he said. “You and me, Ali. Together, there’s no way we can fail.”
The doors opened and he dropped her hand, but not before he saw the shadow of some dark emotion flash across her face. When she exited beside him, however, her expression was once again calm.
It’s just your imagination.
Ali had always been an open book. She’d never keep secrets.
Not from him.
Chapter Three
“Honey, I’m home.”
Allison closed the d
oor behind her as she stepped into the blissful quiet of her apartment. A wry smile twisted her lips, her greeting falling on absent ears. What would it be like to come home to the sounds someone else in her apartment, maybe even the smell of dinner in the oven?
Her briefcase joined her discarded pumps before she made a beeline for the kitchen. There had to be something edible in the fridge, though for the life of her she couldn’t remember the last time she’d managed something as mundane as a grocery run.
As expected, opening the fridge revealed half a loaf of bread, a suspect bag of lettuce, and a few slices of cheese.
“Grilled cheese it is,” she decided, pulling what she needed from the shelves. Luckily there was an unopened bottle of wine on the counter with her name on it.
It took no time at all before she was curled up on her sofa with a plate of cheesy goodness and a blessed glass of wine.
Definitely earned this today, she thought, taking her first sip. Heaven in a glass.
Grabbing the remote, she turned on Netflix.
“Time for a little research,” she said aloud as she typed “wedding” into the search bar.
“The Wedding Singer, The Wedding Planner, The Wedding Date,” she read, scrolling through the options. Who said taking your work home with you couldn’t be fun?
Making her selection, she settled in for the movie, half wondering if she should be taking notes.
No sooner had the title flashed onscreen when her phone rang.
With a groan, she closed her eyes. Only one person in her contacts was assigned that particular ringtone.
She could let it go to voicemail. The thought did cross her mind. But then he’d only call again. And again. She knew how he got when he first started on a project.
She set her dinner on the coffee table and dashed for her bag. Fishing her phone from the depths of her purse, she tapped the answer button.
“Have you seen how much flowers for a wedding cost? Do you think we can grow our own?”
A smile touched her lips at the joking words. Hauling her bag along with her, she flopped back down on the sofa. “In a month? No. I’m not turning my office into your own personal greenhouse.”
“I suppose we’ll have to just write a check then.”
She bit back a grin. “That gets my vote.”
“There are a million articles to read on the internet.”
Allison cradled the phone against her ear, then pulled her laptop from her bag and turned it on. “I know. I’ve already bookmarked a few dozen we should skim.”
“I think we should clear my schedule for the next month. Anything that can be pushed, do it.”
Allison rolled her eyes. What did he think she’d been doing with her afternoon? “I’ve got you down to just the basics. Anything pertaining to the Sterling acquisition or the most important meetings you need to take for the company.”
“There aren’t enough hours in the day.”
Exactly why I want out, she mused. Once she quit, she wouldn’t have any more of these late night phone calls. No more impossible tasks to fill her waking hours.
“Any particular reason you are calling, Darian?”
“Just feeling…”
“Overwhelmed,” she put in. “I told you a wedding planner would make our lives easier.”
“We can handle it. What are you doing?”
“Eating dinner.” She reached for her sandwich. No way would she let the cheese get cold.
“It’s nine thirty.”
“I was with you till an hour ago. I don’t survive on light and air, you know.”
His soft chuckle sounded through the phone, wrapping around her in the still apartment. “You should have just stayed here. We could have gotten Thai.”
“There’s only so much Panang Gai a girl can eat.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Swallowing a bite, she shook her head. “I’ll have you know I actually cooked tonight.”
Turning on the stove top counted, right? There was a pan in her sink to prove it.
“Grilled cheese or spaghetti?”
Dammit, he knew her too well. “All right, you win. What are you doing?”
“Just got in.”
Her chewing slowed. Despite their abnormally close relationship, she hadn’t seen much of his home. Oh, she’d dropped off contracts or files every now and then, but she’d rarely been invited across the threshold. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d even made it to the living room. Darian was a private man who liked to keep business out of his off hours. And she didn’t blame him. It wasn’t as if she’d ever invited him over to her place for dinner, either. They might work all hours of the day together, but they usually did it in the confines of his office.
Pushing to her feet, sandwich in one hand, she wandered around the small space of her one-bedroom apartment. From what she’d seen of his sweeping home, they lived in very different worlds. She’d been thrilled to find a place to rent that wasn’t a studio layout, while Darian’s home boasted rooms bigger than her whole apartment.
She regarded her open concept living room, seeing from the kitchenette to the sliding door that led to her small balcony. It was a cozy space. Lived in. Warm. Darian’s home hadn’t held the same feeling, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
His voice purred in her ear. A reminder that she shouldn’t be wool gathering over silly notions like prying into his private life.
“Sorry. I was just—”
“Enjoying your down time. I’m sorry I interrupted.”
She should be, too. Except it was rather nice to have someone to talk to. Hell, maybe she needed to get a cat to keep her company. Or a goldfish. Work her way up.
“I don’t mind,” she said, even though she knew she should be drawing the line. Making it a point that she was off the clock.
“Thank you,” he said. “For today. I really do appreciate you helping me with this.”
She closed her eyes. “How could I say no?”
His soft chuckle filled her ears. “You are my one in a million, Ali.”
I’m not your anything, she thought with a touch more melancholy than she’d ever admit to.
“But I shouldn’t intrude on your home time. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have called.”
She heard the shift in his voice, from relaxed to business in the blink of an eye, and stifled a sigh. “I’ll email you some of the more pertinent articles tomorrow and we can go from there.”
“Excellent.” He paused.
She returned to the couch, reaching for her wine.
“Thanks again. I owe you one.”
Her fingers froze on the glass stem. “I’m sure I’ll think of something,” she said, the pit in her stomach tightening.
Tell him. Tell him about the letter. Tell him you want out.
The words were impossible to vocalize.
“Sleep well.”
She closed her eyes, enjoying the way his voice rolled out into the air around her. “And you.”
The call ended and she let the phone drop onto the cushions beside her, her request to leave still unvoiced.
He’s just my boss, she told herself. So what if she felt like smiling just because he’d checked in on her? It was a perfectly normal reaction to someone being nice.
Except one phone call from Darian had her feeling more butterflies than the last date she’d been on.
“Dammit,” she sighed, lolling her head against the back of the couch. “He’s not my type.”
Maybe if she said it enough times the words would start to ring true.
…
He shouldn’t have called.
Darian sighed, running his hand down his face. What was wrong with him? Sentimentality wasn’t in his nature. Today was no different from any other day. Jenny getting married shouldn’t send him running to his assistant for…
What exactly? Companionship? Comfort? That wasn’t her job, and he needed to remem
ber it. Some lines shouldn’t ever be blurred.
He couldn’t afford to make mistakes with Allison. He’d never sacrifice what they had.
She’s too important for that.
Too necessary. He needed to keep things professional.
But when he’d come home to his dark, empty house he’d had an uncharacteristic pang of discontent.
Jenny was getting on with her life and starting a family. The closest thing he had to a stable relationship was with a woman he paid to assist him.
“Get it together,” he told himself, striding through his living room. The house was too big for one person. In all honesty, he should have put it on the market years ago.
But one of the many bedrooms upstairs was Jenny’s, and in the back of his mind he’d always assumed she’d end up back here. Some scheme would fall through or she’d get tired of her nomadic ways and she’d need a place to go.
Now, it seemed that excuse would disappear. His sister had a partner. She didn’t need to rely on him any more.
Stepping into his fully renovated kitchen, he didn’t bother turning on the light before he headed straight for the fridge. His housekeeper kept it fully stocked, despite the fact that he couldn’t cook to save his soul. Ignoring the fresh produce, he grabbed a beer and shut the door. Leaning back against the counter, he twisted off the cap and raised it to his lips.
This is a house for a family, big bro.
Those had been Jenny’s parting words the last time she’d stayed here. And she wasn’t wrong. The spacious home was ideally located, close to everything one would ever need. Lord knew the square footage alone ensured more than enough space to accommodate a growing family.
He’d bought it years ago. When other people his age had been crashing on friends’ couches and living with too many roommates he’d been making his first million. And it hadn’t been his last.
After the years of scrimping to keep a roof over Jenny’s head, they’d finally had money. So he’d bought this place in a gamble to try and reclaim that sense of family, of belonging, that had been torn from their lives.
He wasn’t sure he’d been successful in that attempt.
Maybe Ali can help me find a great realtor, he mused, taking another swig of beer. A man like him didn’t need a family home. A bachelor pad with a brilliant view would be far more in line with his lifestyle.
Right Billionaire, Wrong Wedding (Sexy Billionaires) Page 3
