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“I think he gets it, Aleck.” I roll my eyes, wishing Business Aleck would return.
“Right. Well, we have a lot to go over. My name is Angelo Serrano. But please, call me Angelo.”
Angelo, the wedding planner does not seem amused with us in the slightest.
“Angelo,” I say. “This room is beautiful, truly. But it’s a little big. Extravagant. Sondra is looking for something a bit more modest.”
Angelo cocks his head back like I’ve just told him I have a hand where my asshole should be. “This is ourGreat Hall,” he hisses. “This is where most of our high-profile weddings take place. The daughter of Max Bose should get married—”
“I understand, Mr. Serrano. It’s a gorgeous room, truly. I’m not trying to downplay its beauty. But Sondra and Preston have only invited one hundred and fifty people. That wouldn’t even fill half—”
“One hundred and fifty people?” he interrupts. “I have here that the guest list includesthreehundred and fifty people. The Bose family—”
“You must not have received Sondra’s updated guest list. I was told she sent that to you weeks ago. Anyhow, I’ll get it for you as soon as I can. Max Bose’s daughter or not, she wants something quaint. Please…”
Angelo huffs, stiffening his spine. “Of course, Miss Sommers. Follow me.”
Angelo leads us out of the Great Hall with a growing chip on his shoulder so large I’m surprised it isn’t slowing his pace. I glance behind me to connect with Aleck, hoping he’s witnessing how uncomfortable this meeting has gotten, but his eyes are on his phone, and his thumbs are typing furiously. Email, text to a colleague, sexting? Who knows, but he’s not here, not anymore.
I trail my fingers over every silky texture I cross until we enter a smaller version of the Great Hall. Everything is draped in warm, off-white, silky fabrics that accentuate the dark mahogany floors. The tables and chairs are still gold, but there are no giant diamond covered chandeliers dripping from the ceiling. Just simple warm brass drum lights.
“This is Candlelit Hall. Is this roomquaintenough, Miss Sommers?” Angelo deadpans.
Aleck lifts his eyes from his phone, narrowing them on Angelo, then straightens his spine, and pushes his phone into his pocket.
“Yes, this is perfect, Angelo. Thank you.”
“Let’s take a seat.” Angelo pulls out a chair from the table nearest to us and sits.
Aleck pulls out a chair opposite Angelo and gestures for me to sit down and I do. Then he pulls out a chair for himself and sits beside me, his glare fastened on Angelo’s face.
“Your cake tasting is tomorrow,” Angelo starts. “I’m assuming you and Mr. Fox will decide on Miss Bose’s cake as well?”
“Yes, they won’t be here in time.”
Angelo’s eyebrows tic. “Hmm… Right, well, why not? This wedding is already proven to be quite unorthodox. I just hope that you, Miss Sommers, are checking with Miss Bose and not planning a wedding that better suitsyou.”
“Mr. Serrano,” Aleck’s voice seeps between the two men like slow rolling thunder. His glare like knives, threatening to nick Angelo’s face with tiny wounds. It’s odd how bright blue eyes can become so dark and menacing and in so little time. “With all due respect, you’re a goddamn wedding planner—”
“I beg your pardo—”
Aleck holds up his hand, stopping Angelo’s words in his throat. “It is your job to bend to arising obstacles. If you cannot do so with grace, I wonder why you’re still employed. Miss Bose and Mr. Bell aren't present because they’re handling a death in the family. Miss Sommers is Sondra’s liaison, treat her as though she is your bride. If she’s happy with your treatment, I’ll give you a ten-thousand-dollar tip. If she’s not, I’ll have you fired. Now please, shut the fuck up and cater to this woman like your career depends on it. Because I assure you, Mr. Serrano, it does.”
My eyes widen and I almostseeAngelo’s ego deflate.
Did Aleck just offer someone ten thousand dollars to shut the fuck up?For me?!
Angelo hasn’t had anyone speak to him like that, no doubt. Least of all the best man. But he’s never met Aleck Fox before.
Aleck pulls his phone from his pocket and continues with his email, conversation, or sext…
Angelo clears his throat and loosens his tie. “Right, well… Miss Sommers, let’s talk color schemes.”
SIX
ALECK
Ineed to take the edge off.
