“The hotel with the clock tower?” I asked.
Archer rubbed his hands together. “This will be perfect.”
“But you have to do something for us,” Mike warned. “Have one of your magazines do a full spread. You know, really make it seem like a great event space. We’re losing money on that building. I swear, Archer, I’m so tired of renovating these historic buildings. They’re money sinks.”
“As long as we sell that penthouse, we’ll be in the black.” They looked at me hopefully.
I grimaced.
“Let me know when you change your mind,” Archer said. “I’ll knock a million off of it.”
“Just one thing,” Mike warned me. “We do not have a liquor license yet for that building. That’s why we haven’t booked a wedding there. It has to be bone dry—no serving alcohol, the caterers cannot have alcohol, none of the guests can have alcohol. If you bring it in, that’s it. We kick you out.”
“Understood.”
* * *
Ivy metme at the Brookview Hotel later that evening to survey the venue and ceremony space. I wrapped my arms around her.
“See, being a billionaire is very convenient.”
“I cannot believe you pulled this off. How much did you have to pay? Wait, no. I don’t even want to know.”
“Just the cost of a magazine spread,” I told her, still feeling a flush of warmth from the way she looked at me like I was her hero. I bent down to kiss her, and she melted in my arms. “Now’s the part where you tell me how amazing I am and how you want to fall down in worship at my feet,” I teased.
Ivy pressed a soft kiss to my mouth.
“You’re amazing, seriously. You saved the day.”
My heart ached with the way she looked at me, her eyes shining. “Let’s see the venue first before you get too excited,” I told her. “Hopefully, it’s up to your standards.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect, since it’s in the same building as my all-time favorite piece of real estate. Really, though, Imogen should just be glad we’re not having her wedding at Chuck E. Cheese.”
“Could you imagine?” I chuckled as I held the door of the elevator for Ivy. “The nuclear fallout would spread to New Jersey.”
“I know!” Ivy giggled as the elevator took us up to the event space.
“For your consideration: the ceremony space,” I said, throwing open a set of double doors to a rectangular room. At one end was an ornately carved wooden pavilion decorated with fairy creatures and flowers carved out of a richly stained wood. “Supposedly, this was a salon for women back in the day when they still separated the sexes.”
“This is perfect!” Ivy gushed. “Imogen doesn’t deserve this.” She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed.
I laughed and took her hand, kissing it. “Why?” I teased. “Trying to save it for your own wedding?”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “The way things are going, I don’t think I’ll ever get married.”
“Don’t tell me my cynicism has affected you,” I said mildly as I took her up the grand staircase to the ballroom.
Ivy snorted. “Don’t get me wrong. I still love weddings, but I don’t know if I’m ever going to meet the right man who’s going to be worth spending two years of my life planning one.”
“You wouldn’t plan a wedding for me?” I asked, trying and failing to sound unserious.
She turned to look at me. We paused outside the row of large pocket doors. “We can’t get married! We’re not in a relationship.”
“We could be,” I told her then leaned down to kiss her.
“What happened to no-strings-attached rebound sex?”
“I still fully intend to have hot and dirty sex with you,” I told her, “if you’re concerned that it will turn to vanilla.”
