Page 25 of Bound To Be Mine

I wanted him to know that I was really fucking good at my job.

And if he happened to notice that I looked really fucking good while doing it? Well, that was just a bonus.

I texted Zara to confirm she was at the chapel. She responded immediately with a thumbs-up emoji and a photo of the bride looking absolutely stunning in her Vera Wang gown.

Perfect.

It was all going well. Getting the bride dressed and down the aisle on time was half the battle.

9

BRIGGS

The chapel was not what I pictured. I’d been to plenty of weddings and none of them looked like what I was staring at. I honestly questioned the Uber driver. I was certain he took me to the wrong place.

I had pictured something small and white. Quaint. Traditional. But then I remembered I was in Vegas.

The building that was being generously called a chapel was mostly glass and modern architecture. It looked like a building you’d see in Manhattan in the future. There was an actual neon sign, keeping with the Vegas aesthetic.

I straightened my jacket, confirmed the contract was where I’d put it, and approached the entrance.

That’s when I saw her.

I stood there like an idiot, watching her. She greeted a couple in their sixties by name with a genuine smile. None of that fake enthusiasm I’d seen from event coordinators at other functions I’d been to. She introduced them to an usher—a college-aged kid in a tux who looked nervous but professional—and sent them on their way with a smile.

Then she turned to an older woman dripping in diamonds. I watched her face light up with recognition. They embraced like old friends. Mandy said something that made the woman laugh, then gestured to another usher. The whole exchange took maybe forty-five seconds, but it mattered. She was personally greeting the guests. To the average person, it looked friendly. But I knew she was checking the people against the guest list she probably had memorized.

I hung back and watched her work.

Another couple approached, younger this time. The man was vaguely familiar—probably someone I’d seen on television or in the news. Mandy greeted them with the same warmth. She was working the line like it was her own wedding and she knew everyone personally.

I knew she had noticed me. We hadn’t made eye contact, but she saw me out of her peripheral vision. I saw the second she noticed. But she was ignoring me.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. I was here to observe, after all. But it grated.

I was Briggs Blackwell. I flew across the country on short notice to be here. The least she could do was acknowledge my presence. Then again, she was working.

Maybe standing here and waiting was part of the lesson.

I moved off to the side to observe and keep from being seen. I wasn’t sure anybody would recognize me, but just in case. I didn’t want the attention to shift to me.

I tried not to notice how pretty she looked. Or the curves that were subtle in the dress, but definitely there. I tried not to notice the way the fabric moved around her legs. Tried not to notice that she looked even better than she had yesterday at breakfast.

Professional, I reminded myself. This is professional.

She finally glanced my way after the couple moved past her. Our eyes met and then, to my absolute shock, she held up a finger telling me to wait.

I had never been dismissed.

I wasn’t sure I liked it.

But I waited.

I was starting to see the choreography of the little dance she was doing. The way she kept track of who’d arrived and who hadn’t without once looking at a clipboard. It was crowd management. Traffic flow. Client relations. All happening simultaneously, all while making it look like she was just being friendly. She was making sure the guests saw her, liked her, and would think of her when they planned their own weddings.

Finally the flow of arriving guests slowed. Mandy said something to one of the ushers, who nodded and headed inside. Then she turned to me. I saw the first hint of tiredness around her eyes. But she was smiling.

“Mr. Blackwell,” she said, walking toward me. “You made it.”