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“Can you come up to the penthouse? I am a mess, and I could use your help.”
I was already moving towards the elevator before she finished speaking. “I’ll be up in two.”
She thanked me profusely before hanging up.
A mess was an understatement when the doors opened to a full, blown circus. People with boxes and props, and yards of fabric bustled in every direction. A tall, thin man with a walkie shouted incoherent directions at someone who kept breaking up during their response. Somewhere, someone was flipping aggressively through the speakers, blasting music of every variety without settling on anything. Someone screamed and it was followed by a crash that had me bolting into the sitting room.
Marcella stood in the middle of the chaos, a vision in a two-piece suit set, staring with wide-eyed horror at the man sprawled across her now shattered coffee table.
“Oh my God!” I cried, rushing forward.
“I’m so sorry,” the man was saying, struggling to shake off the shards of glass littering the carpet.
“Don’t move,” I told him, but not sure how exactly to get him up without cutting him. “Are you okay?”
“I slipped. I am so sorry.”
“Paris, stop apologizing and stop moving,” Marcella cried, moving up behind him to tuck her hands under his arms. “We’re going to lift you on the count of three, okay? Don’t wiggle. Kami, take his arms.”
With the help of a few others, we got Paris free. We did our best to brush the glass out of his dark hair and clothes. All the while, he apologized over and over again until Marcella took his shoulders and forced him to look at her.
“Stop,” she told him firmly. “It’s just a coffee table. It doesn’t matter as long as you’re okay. Go to the bathroom, check tomake sure you’re not cut. Then go into the kitchen and get yourself a drink and some food and collect yourself. It’s fine.” She turned to a small, pale girl on her right. “Stacy, can you make sure Paris is taken care of?” Once the pair had left the room, she turned to a group watching from the corner and waved them over. “Can you three clean this up, but please be careful. I think there’s a box in the hallway closet.”
Once all the directions were given and there was nothing left, she turned to me.
I gave her a weak smile. “Hi,” I said.
She offered me a tired grin. “Hey sweetie, thank you for coming. Christ, it’s been hell.”
“I can see that. What do you need me to do?”
The rest of my day was spent helping the decoration committee organize and transport all the pieces to the extravagant manor Marcella had rented out in the country. I ran into the girls on multiple occasions, but none of us had a spare second to stop and chat. Waves and calls oftext mewere called from across distances.
By the time nine pm had rolled around and I had nothing left on my list and I could finally stagger my way back into the penthouse, I was sweaty, exhausted, starving, and ready to bite the next person who came near me. It must have been showing on my face because when Alexander got home he took one look at me and raised an eyebrow.
“I know that look,” he said, smart enough to conceal his amusement. “Come.”
I was in enough of a bad mood to tell him I wasn’t moving from my place holding up the hallway wall but didn’t. I let him lead me into the kitchen where he threw open the fridge and pulled out one of the sparehors d'oeuvresplatters and placed it on the crowded island between us.
“Marcella will murder you and I am too tired to stop her,” I told him dryly.
Alexander chuckled. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
I had no strength to argue when he nudged the dish closer to me.
I didn’t even taste the first two. They were shoved down my throat one after the other. I almost moaned, or I did because my companion chuckled.
“How’s the preparations coming along?” he asked after I’d down three more of the flaky pastries with shrimp.
“I have no idea,” I confessed, slowing down enough to breathe around chews. “But hopefully as done as possible.”
He hummed softly. “I’m sure everything looks wonderful.”
I hadn’t lied when I said Alexander was a gorgeous man. He truly was, even with his dark hair streaked with silver and lines around his eyes. He was an exceptionally breathtaking individual. It was easy to see him in Darius and even Edmund. Both sons had that rugged magnetism, but still, neither Alexander nor Edmund compared to Darius, in my opinion.
“How are you?” I asked, now that I was no longer some rabid, starved animal and remembered my manners.
The right corner of his mouth flicked up. “The same. Just trying to—”
