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In the very next breath she remembered that it was Monica who had told her, Monica who had thanked her for staying. Sure, Daniel was clearly behind the idea, but Monica’s effusive thanks for staying proved she was right behind the concept. Sophie was trapped somewhere between Daniel’s heavy-handed tactics and her responsibility to Monica and Jake. Her very own rock and a hard place.
Infuriating man! But he was Monica’s brother. He had to know his sister better than she did. After all, he’d been right about her wanting to get married on Kallista, hadn’t he?
Maybe he really did just want his sister to be happy.
And then she almost laughed out loud. This was the man who’d made no apology for disposing of his sister’s previous boyfriends by paying them to disappear. Instead he’d practically boasted about it! Was this a man who really cared about his sister’s happiness? Not likely. Which brought her back to earth with a crash.
So why was he going along with these wedding plans?
Did he really believe his sister was in love this time? Given his mistrust of her previous suitors, and his intense dislike of her brother, the idea seemed incomprehensible. But what other reason was there for his suddenly being so compliant?
She didn’t know. But what she did know was that this wedding would be everything that Monica and Jake wanted it to be, and that she would do her utmost to make it so—no matter what Daniel Caruana had planned.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DANIEL had been called away on an important call, Millie advised when Sophie emerged, but she was to show her to her new office and to make sure she had everything she needed in the guest room for her stay.
Sophie nodded numbly. Slowly she was coming to terms with the concept she might have to spend most, if not all, of the next few weeks here on Kallista if this wedding was to get off the ground. What was more disconcerting was that everyone else seemed to accept it as a given. It was just lucky Monica had warned her.
Clearly she could forget about getting back to Brisbane tonight, or any time soon.
‘I didn’t bring any clothes,’ she offered by way of a half-hearted protest. Daniel had already taken care of that minor inconvenience, Millie informed her; a selection of items was arriving tomorrow to supplement whatever was already in the guest-room wardrobe.
Sophie suppressed her irritation. How typical of Mr Bossy Boots Caruana that now he assumed he could dress her. Did he think that just because he owned or employed everything and everyone on the island he now owned her too? Not a chance. She’d have Meg sort some stuff out and courier it up tomorrow. She might have to live here, but that didn’t mean she’d have to wear his clothes.
The guest office sat at the far end of the house, just beyond her room, boasting a view that could never improve productivity, she was sure. The windows here were angled towards the mainland, the ribbon of white coast and lush green mountains the perfect foil for the cerulean perfection of sea and sky.
But, if you could manage to drag your eyes away from the view, the office had everything that opened and shut—computer, printer, wireless broadband along with a phone and fax.
Sophie looked around her, wondering at the calibre of person Daniel entertained here that he would have an entire guest office laid on, as well as a guest suite. Clearly not your average aunt and uncle. Not that she knew the first thing about his family, really, beyond the guest list Monica had provided her with.
In the space of a few short weeks she’d get to meet them herself, assuming she ever got the invitations out. Monica and Jake had decided on the stationery, but the printing had to wait until the venue was confirmed. That would be one of her first tasks, to get the invitations out; then, given the extremely short notice, she’d have to follow up each and every one by phone or email to ensure those who could make it would attend. Plus she’d have to add transfers to the arrangements too, she noted, for those arriving via Cairns airport. She’d ask Daniel about making available his helicopter, and maybe the launch he’d mentioned too.
The string quartet she’d organised could fly up, though she’d have to arrange flights and accommodation; then she had to find a cake, originally part of the Tropical Palms package. And Monica wanted doves.
She felt a rush of adrenaline as what seemed like a million thoughts vied for priority. This was what she loved about her job, the building blocks falling into place, the wedding becoming more real with every concrete decision.
This was only the tip of the iceberg. There was so little time and so much to do.
Game on.
Sophie surveyed the office around her and nodded approvingly. She’d need a space like this and it was good she’d be on the spot to iron out any difficulties as they arose. It made sense.
