Page 24 of Bound To Be Mine

The florist was putting finishing touches on the centerpieces. The lighting designer was adjusting spots. The cake, a seven-tier masterpiece that belonged in a museum, had been delivered and was being carefully positioned on its own dedicated table with a spotlight that made it look like it was glowing. The damn thing had an actual water feature.

The things money could buy never ceased to amaze me.

Everything was perfect. Everything was on schedule. I was in the groove. I didn’t just plan events—I created experiences, unique and tailored to each individual client. I made sure that every single detail, from the temperature of the room to the timing of the speeches, was flawless.

Bud Nelson was a tech billionaire who’d made his fortune in cryptocurrency before most people knew what Bitcoin was. Victoria Knox had won Wimbledon twice and was currently ranked number three in the world. Their guest list read like a who’s who of Silicon Valley and professional sports. There were a few celebrities that were on the list, but mostly, it was just money. CEOs and hedge fund managers that most people didn’t know existed. I had coordinated security clearances for two sitting senators and at least a dozen people whose net worth exceeded the GDP of small countries.

This wedding would be in magazines. The images from the photographers would be approved by me before they were posted on social media. People would be talking about it for months.

And it was going to be perfect because I didn’t do anything less than perfect.

By noon, I was satisfied that everything was running like a well-oiled machine. The ceremony would start at three. Cocktail hour at four-thirty. Dinner at six. Dancing until ten, and then the couple and their closest friends would move to the club they’d rented out for the afterparty. That part wasn’t my problem, thank God. I’d be done at ten and could finally collapse.

On wedding days, I was certain it was the equivalent of running a marathon. It always took me a few days to recover. I had to wear heels because there was an image I had to keep up. I had tried every “comfortable” heel on the planet and I had to call bullshit. None of them were comfortable. Some pinched less than others, but they all sucked and my feet hated me.

I headed back to my hotel room, which was thankfully in the same building. That was intentional. I had an entire emergency kit stashed in my room. Everything from basic bandages, to boob tape and smelling salts.

I let myself into my room, kicked off my sensible flats, and immediately started stripping out of my work clothes. I’d been in black pants and a simple blouse all morning—comfortable, professional.

But for the actual wedding? I needed to look like I belonged among the guests. That meant breaking out the good stuff. I had slowly been beefing up my wardrobe with designer pieces.

I’d brought three dress options for tonight because I was nothing if not prepared. I pulled them out of the garment bag and laid them on the bed, considering each one.

The first was a classic black cocktail dress. Safe. Elegant. Boring.

The second was a deep green that would look stunning with my hair and eyes. But it was a little too attention-grabbing, and I didn’t want to outshine anyone. I was there to blend.

The third was a blush pink midi dress with a subtle shimmer in the fabric. It had a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt. The ruching worked to give me an hourglass shape while gently hiding the extra me around the waist. I loved pink. All shades of pink. It was feminine and classy and I just felt pretty in the color.

Pink it was.

I jumped in the shower, taking exactly ten minutes to wash off the morning’s stress. Then I dried my hair, curling it into soft waves that I pinned back on one side with a crystal clip. Makeup took another fifteen minutes—foundation, contour, a smoky eye that wasn’t too dramatic, and a nude lip that wouldn’t transfer. It was all about blending in.

And maybe a little bit about looking nice for a certain blue-eyed jerk.

I slipped into the dress, zipped it up, and turned to look at myself in the mirror.

Not bad, Carter.

I looked polished. Professional. Like I belonged at a billionaire’s wedding, not like I was the one making sure the napkins were folded correctly.

I slipped on a pair of nude heels that added three inches to my height. They were in the comfortable category but I’d still be anxious for my fluffy socks by the end of the night. I grabbed my clutch that also served as another emergency kit. Lipstick, breath mints, and a small sewing kit. I checked to make sure the Tide pen was in there as well. The essentials.

I checked my watch. The ceremony would start in an hour. I needed to check in with the bride and make sure everyone was sober and present. It was Vegas after all. I could not deal with a drunk bridal party.

I took another look in the mirror. I never cared this much about how I looked but today was different. I was nervous about seeing Briggs again.

It was ridiculous. This was a professional arrangement. He was here to observe. It wasn’t personal. He wasn’t watching me. He was watching what I did.

But it felt personal.

The man was gorgeous. Objectively, undeniably, frustratingly gorgeous. Even hungover and rumpled at breakfast yesterday, he’d been the kind of good-looking that made my brain short-circuit. Those blue eyes. That jawline. The man was unfairly attractive, like the gene assembly line stalled and he got an extra dose of handsome.

I was not interested in Briggs Blackwell for his personality. His personality sucked. I was sure there was probably a sense of humor in there somewhere, but I hadn’t seen it.

Didn’t stop me from wanting to look pretty so he’d notice. I’d chosen the pink dress because it was flattering. Because it showed off my figure without being inappropriate. I knew I looked damn good in it, and some petty part of me wanted Briggs Blackwell to see exactly what he’d insulted in that conference room.

I wanted him to see me in my element, commanding a room full of powerful people while making everything look effortless even though it was the result of months of planning and coordination.