“We’re not friends,” I said automatically, shaking his hand.
“Colleagues, then.”
“Competitors,” Hudson and I said in unison.
Criss glanced between us, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Fascinating. Well, as I was telling Mr. Gable, I envision cascading installations from these support beams, perhaps wisteria or trailing jasmine...”
I tuned him out, focusing instead on Hudson. The bastard had deliberately hijacked my venue tour, bringing in his own vendor to undermine my presentation. This was supposed to be my chance to showcase my vision without his interference.
“Excuse me,” I interrupted Criss’s enthusiastic description of some exotic flower I’d never heard of. “But I have a scheduled tour with the clients in fifteen minutes, and I need to prepare.”
“We’re all touring together,” Hudson said smoothly. “Manny texted me this morning.”
“How convenient that you knew about this change of plans before I did.”
“Perhaps you should check your messages more carefully.”
I pulled out my phone and, sure enough, there was a text from Manny that I’d missed.
Combining the venue tour with Hudson and his florist. Efficiency!
Sent three hours ago. Right after I’d confirmed with Lia.
Hudson watched me, the corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. My fingers itched to wipe it off his face, either with a slap or with my lips. Both urges were equally disturbing.
The clients arrived before I could decide which would be more satisfying. Lia breezed in with Manny following closely behind.
“Mari! Hudson!” Lia embraced us both like we were old friends. “I’m so excited to see this space. And Criss! Wonderful to see you again.”
Criss bowed. “Ms. Martin, Mr. Kussikov. It’s an honor to be considered for your celebration.”
I shot Hudson a look. He’d already established a relationship between the clients and his vendor. Strike one against me.
The tour began with Penelope leading us through the various spaces of the venue. I forced myself to focus, mentally adjusting my presentation on the fly. I couldn’t showcase my emotional storytelling approach as planned, not with Hudson and his floral minion tagging along.
“So, Mari,” Lia said as we entered the garden space. “Tell us how you envision using this area.”
Finally, my opening. I stepped forward, portfolio ready. I’d printed out extra copies of my plan and laid them out on a nearby table for Lia and Manny to see.
“This space is the heart of your love story,” I began, pointing down at the blueprint of the venue before gesturing around us. “Imagine entering through an archway of lights that mimics the constellations visible on the night you met?—”
“Actually,” Hudson interrupted, “the ambient lighting from traditional fixtures would create a warmer, more controlled atmosphere. The structural integrity of this glass ceiling makes complex installations challenging.”
My smile was tight as I tried to keep my annoyance from reaching my eyes. “The stars are a metaphor. I’m not suggesting we rearrange the actual cosmos, Mr. Gable.”
“Metaphors don’t hold up chandeliers,” he replied.
“The stars would be projection mapping,” I clarified for the clients. “Advanced technology that creates an immersive experience while respecting the venue’s structural limitations.”
“Projection mapping requires precise calibration and is susceptible to technical failures,” Hudson countered. “A more reliable approach?—”
“Is a boring one,” I finished for him. “Sure, we could play it safe with some basic uplighting and call it a day. Or we could create something magical that your guests will remember forever.”
Manny looked between us, clearly entertained. “You both make compelling arguments.”
“Perhaps we should see the rest of the venue before deciding,” Lia suggested.
The tour continued with Hudson and me trading thinly veiled jabs disguised as professional opinions. By the time we reached the bridal suite, I was ready to strangle him with his perfectly knotted tie.
