“I’m getting married at the Rhodes Estate.”
“Great, so you’ve already booked it then.”
“No.”
Her brows furrowed in a cute way that made her look like a petulant child. “No?”
I held up my scotch glass and nodded. “Nope.”
“Then how do you know you’re getting married there?”
Shrugging, I smirked at her. “Because it’s not optional. I’m getting married there; I just haven’t booked the venue. Not my job.” I winked at her. She returned it with a scowl.
“I’ll note it here, but most venues don’t book this late. Three months will be tricky.”
“I’m sure you can handle it, Ms. Marcel.” I swirled my glass and raised an eyebrow. “You are the best, aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer my question. “Guest count?”
“Two hundred. Maybe two-fifty. Depending on how many cousins I discover once the invitations go out.”
“Theme or style?”
“Tasteful. Nothing garish. I’d defer to your expertise on the details.” I paused. “Though I draw the line at releasing doves. After the incident at my college roommate’s wedding, I can’t look at white birds without flinching.”
She looked up from her notebook, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised in what might have been the barest hint of curiosity. I considered it a victory. “And your bride? What’s her style?”
I smiled my most charming smile. The one that had graced magazine covers and persuaded venture capitalists to hand over millions. The smile that had once caused a sommelier to drop an entire tray of champagne flutes. “That’s the interesting part. I don’t have a bride yet.”
Her pen froze mid-word. “I’m sorry?”
“I don’t have a fiancée,” I repeated, watching her expression shift from professional interest to confusion. “We’re planning a wedding, bride not included.”
“So there’s another groom?”
I choked on my scotch. “No, I assure you, there will be a bride. I just haven’t found her yet.”
She stared at me for a long moment. Then she laughed. It was a genuine, surprised sound that transformed her face from merely attractive to outright beautiful.
“I’m sorry,” she said, composing herself. “For a moment I thought you said you wanted me to plan a wedding without a bride.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
The laugh died. “You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
“Is this for a movie? A reality show?” She glanced around as if looking for hidden cameras. “Because I don’t do television. My contracts specifically exclude?—”
“This is not for entertainment purposes,” I assured her. “It’s a genuine wedding. I just need to work backward from the usual timeline.”
She crossed her arms, the notebook now forgotten. “You want me to plan a real wedding for you and a woman who doesn’t exist yet.”
“She exists,” I clarified. “I just haven’t met her. Or rather, I haven’t selected her yet.” I flashed another smile. “Though if this is your way of applying for the position, I’m certainly open to discussing?—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll use this pen in ways that violate the Geneva Convention,” she cut in, her voice arctic.
I held up my hands in surrender, oddly delighted by her threat. “Just testing your professional boundaries. Consider me properly chastised.”
