Cleo blew out a shaky breath. “I knew this job would kill me one day. I just thought it’d be the cake tastings.”
Despite the panic clawing through me, I rolled my eyes.
“Come on,” I said, pulling her to her feet. “We’ll start with the staff in the hallway. No panic. No one suspects a thing.”
Cleo nodded, though her hands were still trembling. “Right. Cool. Casual. Totally normal.”
“Exactly.” I said. “We’ve got this.”
But as we stepped into the bright corridor, my stomach twisted.
Because for the first time in my career, I wasn’t sure we did.
Chapter Eight
“…and if we could just have you both under that gum tree for the golden hour shots, it’ll be pure magic,” the photographer declared, gesturing grandly towards the vineyard as if summoning sunlight itself.
Caroline smiled adoringly. “Of course Luca, but we’ll have to check the schedule.”
“Schedule, yes, yes, love schedules,” he interrupted, waving one hand dramatically while his camera dangled dangerously from the other. “But if the light is right, youdropthe schedule. You seize it! Youbecomethe light.”
James seemed faintly alarmed. “Right. Become the light. Got it.”
I tried not to wince as the photographer crouched suddenly to frame a test shot of the table settings, muttering something about “angles of destiny.”
People whispered Luca Valentino’s name the way others whispered prayers.
And now he was lying flat on the terrace tiles, designer trousers and all, angling his camera upward through a water glass to “capture the emotional transparency of the tablescape.”
The servers were tiptoeing around him like he was an endangered species. James nodded with polite appreciation, the way someone does when they have no idea what’s happening but assume they should admire it.
Caroline, on the other hand, was practically glowing. She hovered near Luca with the reverence of a museum curator watching a priceless relic being restored.
“Brilliant,” she breathed. “Absolutely brilliant.”
Luca shushed her gently, as if sound itself might disrupt the artistic integrity of the reflection in the glass.
I, on the other hand, was mostly calculating whether it would be rude to suggest he stand up before someone tripped over him.
He let out a satisfied sigh, lowering his camera. “Yes,” he said softly. “The colours are cooperating. They understand me.”
Cleo, standing beside me, gave an overly loud laugh. “He’s so passionate, isn’t he? Passion’s great. Passion’s…” She knocked her elbow into a water jug, sending a cold tidal wave across the linen.
I lunged forward just in time to rescue the place cards. “Cleo.”
Ok, Cleo was losing it.
Her eyes were a little too wide, her smile a little too fixed, like someone trying to bluff their way through a high-stakes poker game using only panic and caffeine.
Luca, meanwhile, didn’t even flinch. “Ah!” he exclaimed, stepping back to admire the spreading puddle. “Water, reflection, chaos, life! Don’t move it.”
Cleo mouthedsorry, holding the empty jug like a murder weapon she didn’t mean to use.
Caroline’s brow creased ever so slightly, but she said nothing. James, ever the diplomat, helped mop up the spill and murmured something about “happy accidents.”
Once the water had been dealt with, I turned to the group smiling tightly. “Shall we continue?”
Luca had already moved on to rearranging centrepieces, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously likeThe Circle of Lifeas he angled a vase three millimetres to the left, then stepped back as though he’d just performed a sacred ritual.
