Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
"Marcus’ dad called in a favor already. They’re holding our date until we can confirm. Besides, nothing's impossible for Emma Marshall," Lily said with complete confidence. "You're the one who taught me that."
Yeah, but that was the old Emma. The one who believed in fairy tales and happy endings. The one who hadn't watched a perfect wedding implode in spectacular fashion. The one who hadn't been stupid enough to fall for—
No. Not going there.
I looked at my sister's hopeful face, then at Marcus's encouraging smile. Even Brad looked invested now, though that might have just been indigestion. He was going pretty hard on the greasy appetizers and bread.
"Fine," I heard myself say. "I'll do it."
Lily squealed and launched herself around the table to hug me. "I knew you would! This is going to be amazing."
"But," I added, extracting myself from her grip, "we do it my way. No surprises. No last-minute changes. And absolutely no uninvited guests."
"Of course," Marcus agreed smoothly. "Whatever you need."
I took another long drink of wine, trying to quiet the voice in my head screaming that this was a terrible idea.
"To new beginnings," Lily proposed, raising her glass.
We all clinked glasses. As I sipped my wine, I found myself studying Marcus for signs of trouble. Ever since Ireland, I’d had the irrational fear that every single wedding was going to blow up in my face. Somehow, I hadn’t had a single disaster in three years, but it was as if the scar left behind wouldn’t heal.
I couldn’t look at the “perfect, happy couple” and not wonder how it would all come crashing down for them.
But that was silly. I was just being paranoid. Marcus came from so much money he could have any girl he wanted. He was handsome, rich, and charming. And my sister wasn’t the kind of girl you let go when you got a hold of her.
I found myself smiling as we drank to our toast.
Maybe Lily was right. Maybe planning this huge, high-stakes wedding could actually be a good thing.
The only downside was I’d finally have to meet these mega-rich Wellingtons in the flesh for the first time. And I assumed it would also mean Marcus’ mother getting heavily involved with the planning process.
A multi-millionaire old money mother dipping her hands in my business… Yay.
I forced a smile in Lily’s direction.
Potential disaster, ghosts of the wedding wrecker, and a head-on-collision with old money and all the pretentious looks that would come along with it.
Yay. This might just be horrible.
6
JAMES
"Your nine o'clock is here," Derek announced, leaning against my office doorframe. "Fair warning—she's already crying."
I looked up from the stack of surveillance photos on my desk. Even after all these years, it was hard not to notice how Derek commanded attention just by existing. He had that kind of presence—tall, dark-haired, with the kind of face that made the office assistants constantly find excuses to deliver files in person. But his easy grin and perpetual bedhead kept him from looking too polished, which probably explained why women found him so approachable.
"They're always crying," I said.
"Yeah, but this one brought her own fancy monogrammed handkerchief. If you’re going to noisily cry, why not do it in style?" He dropped into one of my client chairs, propping his feet on my desk. "Also, Carol in accounting wants to know if you're ever going to turn in your expense reports, or if she should just assume all those hotel bar receipts are for 'investigating.'"
I knocked his feet off my desk. "They are for investigating."
"Uh huh." Derek had been my best friend since college, and somehow I'd let him talk me into handling the business side of my... unique enterprise. "And that bottle of Macallan 18?"
"Research."
"Into what? Liver failure?"
I ignored him, straightening my tie as I stood. "How much time do I have?"
"Enough to tell me why you're still wearing that tie."
I glanced down at the dark blue silk. "What's wrong with my tie?"
"Nothing. Except it’s the same one you wore yesterday.”
I made an effort not to touch it self-consciously. Oops.
Derek leaned forward, eyes searching my face. “You know, you always blow me off when I bring it up. But I still think you haven’t gotten over that girl you told me about. Your Irish flower.”
“Stop calling her that. I was drunk, and I was in my feelings. She’s not even Irish, so it hardly makes sense.”
Derek smirked. “Anyway… this Irish flower of yours rocks your world. Suddenly, my friend who is usually going home with a different woman every night has lost interest in dating. He’s ‘taking a break’. Well, James, I’m calling bullshit.” He spread his palms with a shrug. “I think you still have feelings for your little flower, and you’re saving yourself for her. Frankly, it’s adorable.”
“This is why I keep you in the office and don’t let you investigate weddings. You’re assuming a hell of a lot. And you’re completely wrong.”