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Enjoying this far too much, Eva winks at me. She eats another truffle, grinning as she chews. She’s had as much fun as I have in the last eight hours.
“So much flattery today. My head is going to be so big I won’t fit into the limo.”
The man chuckles. It’s a deep, affectionate sound. I’m surprised I even recognize it as such, but today has warped my brain.
He looks me right in the eye, with his own eyes sparking hotly, and says, “A pretty girl like you deserves flattery.”
Ooof. I realize I’m blushing and hide behind the matching pink flower.
Eva lifts a stem of delicate flowers to her nose. She draws in a big inhale. “I think some other color would be nice with the pink. What would you recommend, Ivan?”
He frowns. Really, it’s more of a thoughtful pinching of his brows. Ivan’s face doesn’t have a single frown wrinkle. He’s probably perpetually happy working in the flower shop. “I think we should go for a monochromatic pallet, a single color with varying shades. Pink is exquisite when paired with lush dark greenery. We don’t want to compete withthe dress.”
Turning to look at the aforementioned dress, his lids fall appreciatively. “It’s a masterpiece. My job is to complement it, not overshadow it.”
“So, a small bouquet?” I ask, feeling out of my element.
His eyes flare with insult. “No. No.No!Nothing small for this. You need grand. They must be able to see it from the back of the church, not some measly weak bouquet. But it must be done… just so.”
He hustles around and gathers a cluster of this and a cluster of that. Pink in every shade comes together in a striking ensemble.
He motions for me. “Stand up, please, lovely.”
Eva pushes me off the chaise. Thank god I don’t have the heels on anymore. I’d definitely totter like an infant. A drunk one.
He steps up behind me, wraps his warm, unexpectedly muscular arms around me, and places the cluster in my hold. His breath stirs my hair sending a shiver down my back. I’m too tipsy to react beyond my eyes flying to Eva.
In a throaty purr, he says, “It will drape like this.” With big hands, he adjusts the flowers so they lay to the left. Then he shifts them around for a few seconds until they cascade naturally from the crook of my arm.
“You see? It can be grand, but not tacky. Elegant in its simplicity, like a gathering of wildflowers in the best shades for you. Perfect for a petite beauty like you, the woman with the heart of a lioness.”
I almost snort, but when I see Eva’s expression, my snort hangs in my nose.
“Mr. Conner,” she says seriously as she pops off the chaise and snaps to attention.
Huh?
When I glance over my right shoulder, I have to stifle a groan. My betrothed. I forgot we’re using fake names.
“Hello, I didn’t hear you come—”
A stalking, predatory step carries Kieran toward us. I become acutely aware that I’m still in Ivan’s arms. The man’s now breathing heavily down my neck.
He’s not panting. Or hyperventilating. But something’s changed, as if he might know his life is in imminent danger.
Because that’s the only thing I can think of as I watch the animalistic energy crackle around Kieran like lightening in a summer storm.
There’s going to be a slaughter in the penthouse.
I somehow manage to duck away from Ivan, sending the flowers falling to the carpet.
Kieran’s voice is deadly low. “Whothe hell are you?”
Adjusting his folded cuffs as if he’s preparing for battle, Ivan says. “I’m the floral professional that your concierge hired.”
Nostrils flared, Kieran demands, “Why are you touchingmyfiancée?” The emphasis on the word my shakes the penthouse floor.
As I stare at them, I realize Ivan’s bigger than I thought. He’s corded with muscle and as tall as Kieran. When the man’s not pushing daisies, he must be pushing iron.
