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Her color deepens. "I work with a group of vendors—"
I scoff, "None of whom you could hold accountable when they don’t deliver."
"—who have been carefully vetted to ensure that they always deliver." She says at the same time. "Anyway, why do you care, since you don’t have a wedding to go to?"
"That’s where you’re wrong." I peel back my lips. "I’m not going to be labelled as the joke of the century. Not after all of the invites have gone out, and with guests already on their way to attend the 'wedding of the century.'" I make air-quotes with my fingers. Not that I care about what the media calls my upcoming nuptials. It was Priya’s idea, no doubt, fueled by Ms. Incompetent here, to build it up and invite influencers from all walks of life to attend, most of whom I have no interest in meeting. The publicity, though, has been beneficial. And it’s not like I’ll ever tell her, but I have Isla to thank for that. Nothing like a wedding to have the most hard-nosed investors develop warm, fuzzy feelings. Which will help with the IPO I have planned for the most important company in my portfolio. "I have a lot riding on this wedding."
"Too bad you don’t have a bride."
"Ah" —I smirk— "but I do."
She scowls. "No, you don’t. Priya—"
"I’m not talking about her."
"Then who are you talking about?"
"You."
Isla
I stare, sure I haven’t heard him correctly. "Eh? What are you talking about?" I shake my head, as if that might clear it. "If this is some kind of joke—"
"Not a joke." He slides his hand into the pocket of his tailor-made slacks. "There’s no way I’m not going ahead with that wedding. And I do need a bride. Ergo—" He tilts his head as if his words are self-explanatory.
"I’m afraid you’re making no sense."
His lips twist. "Oh, you definitely need to be afraid, but of the repercussions from turning me down.”
I scowl. "This entire conversation is fascinating but as you can see" —I gesture to the computer in front of me— "I havemiles to go and promises to keep."
"Quoting Frost won’t change the fact that you’re going to be marrying me in" —he pulls back his coat sleeve, exposing a watch that I have no doubt cost more than the annual rent of my office, and which is nestled amidst a smattering of dark hair on his thick wrist— "exactly forty hours."
A shiver of something—excitement, apprehension, nervousness, disbelief... maybe all of the above—ripples under my skin.
"I think you’d better leave."
"I thinkyou’dbetter start making preparations to make things up to me." Bastard’s grin widens. He’s enjoying himself at my expense, no doubt about it.
Anger bubbles up, and I tamp it down. I can’t afford to lose my temper. Liam Stick-in-the-mud Kincaid may not be utilizing my services any longer, but he’s one of the most powerful men on this continent—in the world, even—and the last thing I want is to make an enemy of him. I curl my fingers into fists, draw in a breath, then another. When I finally speak, my tone is even. "What things? I don’t have anything to make up to you."
"Oh, but you do. It’s because of you my bride decided to jilt me at the altar—"
"You didn’t reach the altar," I point out.
"Semantics—"
"Are everything." I allow myself a small, tight smile. I’m not going to let this gazillionaire-McGrumpy walk all over me. I have a couple of weddings to plan right after this one. They are nowhere near as high profile as Priya’s but they’ll keep me busy for a while. All the more reason to get this twatwaffle out of here.
"Which is why I can’t marry you."
His dark eyes further. "Sure you can."
"I can’t, I’m already married."
He lowers his gaze to my left hand before I have a chance to cover it.Shit, shit, shit.
"So, you’re not only a bad friend, you’re also a bad liar."
