Why was stuff like that happening?
“His accent is so thick, I only understand half of what he says,” Gal told me as she moved to get up. She stopped so she could shoot me a wink. “But I feel all of it.”
Another startled laugh erupted from me, but this one sounded more like (good Lord!) a giggle.
“Toodle-loo,” she bid, giving me a finger wave and strolling away, aiming a big smile at Dair as she passed him.
He handed me a fresh glass of champagne (of course!) before he threw himself down in the chair beside me, not hesitating to stretch one long arm along the back of my seat, slouch down, straighten his long legs and cross them at the ankles.
“So Sasha went to get your money bag and I gave the tip sheet from your binder to Duncan. He’s going to deal with the tipping at the end of the night,” he announced, before socking back some of his own beer.
I turned on him. “You did what?”
“Dinnae worry. I didnae tear the sheet out of your precious book. I unclipped it. Ye can put it back and keep it for posterity when Duncan is done.”
“How did you know where the money bag was?” I asked.
His amused gray-blue eyes caught mine. “Probably shouldn’t’ve written tip money in leather money bag hidden in bridal quarters at the bottom of my tote.”
Then he took another sip of his beer, but he was smiling around the mouth of his bottle.
Unbearable man.
“I didn’t want to forget where I put it,” I huffed, sitting to face forward again.
“Well, that’s a good way not to forget. Also a good way to tell anyone who might pick up that binder where thousands of dollars of cash are stashed.”
Ugh.
I said nothing. Though I did empty my half-full glass of champagne down my throat so I could start on the fresh one.
“Enlighten me,” he said. “That army of men in black suits with earpieces here for Imogen Swan or Hale Wheeler?”
He was talking about the heavy security Dad had ordered because yes, Imogen Swan (known to all of us as Genny) was ridiculously famous, so was her ex-husband, Tom Pierce, and to a lesser extent, her current husband, Duncan Holloway.
But Hale was not only a close friend of the family, he was a particularly close friend of mine.
Also, he was the richest man on the planet.
I couldn’t forget to note that Dad, Mum, Alex and me were all objects of media fascination. Dad because he was rich too. Mum because she was titled. Alex because she was their daughter and mixed up with the rest of this famous crew.
And me, mostly because people had filmed my altar scene with Chad, and it had gone viral.
Very viral.
Then again, in my earlier days, when I was walking a dark path, I’d sought the spotlight, and I hadn’t done it in ways I was proud of.
But boy, did that defunct wedding mess cure me of that.
So those men were not only the security Dad had hired, they’d worked with Hale’s and Genny’s people to maintain a perimeter so Alex and Rix could enjoy their day.
And I had planned this wedding with the strictest of secrecy.
I’d done this to the point guests were required to check their phones at a staffed phone check station, so no one would even know it was happening until Elsa (Hale’s wife, and a celebrity journalist, how’s that for ironic?) broke the story.
“Take your pick,” I answered Dair’s question.
“There a reason why Alex is faking it with sparkling apple cider?” he rumbled.
