The Wedding

Chapter 1

By the time the first guest arrived, Jamie had already lost her mind.

“Is that vegetarian?” she asked Beatrice, who carried a tray of finger sandwiches to the grand salon of the manor. “We have at least two vegetarians coming today.”

“Why, yes, of course.” Beatrice’s exasperated breath told Jamie that it was such a silly thing to ask. I can’t help it. Everything that can go wrong today will totally go wrong. That included having no vegetarian finger food. “They’re cucumber sandwiches, Miss.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to say…”

“It’s all right.” Beatrice started walking again. That silver tray must weigh a good few pounds with that mound of sandwiches on it. “If you want to worry about something, worry about the parking situation!” That was the last thing Beatrice said before she cheerfully entered the salon.

The parking! Such a gross oversight! Jamie scuttled to the entrance, where Harris the butler – and Beatrice’s husband – waited for guests to arrive.

“Is the parking situation okay?” Jamie asked, taking a tentative look at the driveway.

A slick Maserati was parked in its usual space, and a landscaping truck was nestled in the far corner while the gardener made his rounds in the flower garden.

That left about... five easily accessible parking spaces for guests.

“I checked the RSVPs, Miss,” Harris said.

He wasn’t as approachable as his wife, but he tolerated Jamie and her wandering mind well enough.

He likes me. Totally. It was hard to tell when he always wore the same grim face.

“Four personal cars are slated to come today. If there is an overflow of limousines or cars driven by personal drivers, I can show them where to park until the end of the party.”

Jamie sighed in relief. “Only four cars?”

“Yes, Miss.” Harris finally cracked a smile. “Some of them are carpooling.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh at his wry humor.

“In that case, I think everything is ready. I’m checking in with Etta before coming back down for the party.”

“Yes, Miss. I will inform you of any issues.”

“Please do.” Please don’t. Have any issues, that is. Jamie darted to the grand staircase and made her escape to the quieter parts of the house.

In truth, it was not the biggest house a CEO could live in.

Only five guest rooms, although the expansive property more than made up for it.

Not that Jamie wanted a mansion like some of the ones she had visited over the past year.

She didn’t know how those people took care of such space.

Oh, right, they have five Beatrices and three Harrises.

Those two were the only live-in staff at Etta Coleman’s estate in the hills, and they were two enough.

Her girlfriend Etta’s office was at the far end of the hall, nestled between their bedroom and a small sitting room that Jamie liked to escape to because nobody bothered her there.

Few people bothered anyone down here. Unless it was Jamie coming to bust down her girlfriend’s office door – which she did regularly.

She briskly knocked on the door to announce herself. Sure enough, the moment she entered the rustic office paneled with mahogany and sporting Persian rugs and leather furniture, Etta Coleman looked up from her expansive desk and gave her neither a smile nor a frown.

“Everything okay?” Papers were stacked next to her.

Five windows were opened on her computer monitor.

She’s working this hard on a weekend? Seemed like Etta became busier as the months wore on.

Jamie sometimes helped with the administrative end of things, but she had been much too busy with party planning.

“Nobody’s called me to say the police or fire department were coming, so I assumed things were fine. ”

Jamie was too pumped with adrenaline to smile. “Just checking in before I disappear for an entire afternoon. I think everything is ready. Guests are supposed to arrive in half an hour.”

Etta glanced at the clock. “So, in about an hour.”

Yes, yes, everyone is so fashionably late these days. “They better not be that late.”

“Oh, they will be.”

“If the guest of honor isn’t here on time, I may as well throttle her myself.”

Etta’s eyebrows went up her forehead. “Be careful. She might like that.”

“You would know.”

“Anyway,” Etta was quick to deflect. “I’ll be up here if there’s an emergency. Otherwise, I need to work.”

Jamie went to her, taking comfort in the sturdiness of her frame as she placed a hand on Etta’s shoulder.

For a woman working at home on the weekend, she was still dressed in one of her nicest pair of trousers and a silk shirt.

Although the jacket was nowhere to be seen.

Jamie would ask why Etta wasn’t relaxing in at least a sweatshirt while she went through this stack of paperwork, but it probably had to do with “dressing for success.” Etta in a T-shirt and jeans was like spotting a unicorn, anyway.

“You should at least say hi…”

“I’ll try to make an appearance toward the end of the party. If I don’t, tell Monique she’s free to come visit before she goes home.”

Jamie stepped away. Etta continued to sign and stamp paperwork as if Jamie had never entered the room.

She works so hard now. Etta had always worked hard, but she still took off Sundays.

The first couple of times she worked full weekends, Jamie didn’t think much of it.

Yet this had been going on for at least two months.

This all started after… After she lost her business partner.

Who knew that woman did so much work after all?

Jamie didn’t have time to think about her girlfriend’s workload, however.

She had a party to host downstairs, and whether guests were on time or fashionably late, she must be there.

So she kissed her girlfriend on the forehead and went downstairs, where she caught sight of a limousine pulling up in the driveway.

“Ms. Monique Grant,” Harris announced the moment Jamie reached the door. “Should I have her driver park somewhere else?”

“No, that’s not necessary. She’s the guest of honor.”

“Very well.”

Jamie remembered to smile when Monique emerged from the back of her limo, wearing a crimson A-line dress that bloomed right above her waistline.

Her flat red shoes clacked on the bricks leading up to the door, and her black purse, which was so stylishly in season, glittered in the rare February sunlight.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun that coiled on top of her head and speckled with a net of rubies.

She was always so much nicer to look at than Jamie. Monique may have been a woman of humble origins like Jamie, but she matched the airs and aesthetic of the many old-money families dotting the landscape. Suppose that makes her a prime candidate to marry into one of those old-money families.

“Hey!” Jamie called, meeting Monique halfway down the front steps. “You’re early!”

“I know. I am terrible. Is it a problem?” Monique tipped up her sunglasses. “I was already in the area for something else, and didn’t see the point in going back into town just to come up here again.”

“No problem at all. Nobody else is here yet, though.”

Monique grinned. “They’ll be here in about an hour.”

“The party is supposed to start in half an hour.”

“Yes, and they’ll be very generous by showing up in an hour.”

Jamie turned, leading her into the main hall. Beatrice took Monique’s coat she had slung over her shoulder, but otherwise, they were left alone as they meandered into the salon.

“You don’t have problems getting people to show up to your parties.”

“That’s because everyone has sex at my parties. Of course they’re on time.” Monique snorted. “Or early, if you know what I mean.”

Jamie blushed. Monique looked like the demure daughter of a well-to-do family, but she was anything but.

The demureness came from her role as a lifestyle submissive, but everything else?

Monique was one of the shrewdest businesswomen Jamie knew.

She owned and operated a Manoir high in the mountains that catered to the kinky tastes of the region’s elite.

It’s a BDSM brothel. We all know it. Somehow, Madam Monique had skirted legalities by finding all sorts of ridiculous loopholes in the local laws.

It also helped that she was now engaged to one of the coast’s wealthiest women and slated to marry her by the end of the month. Here I am, throwing her bridal shower.

They sat and talked over cucumber sandwiches and sparkling cider. What was going on in their lives? How were the wedding preparations? Had Jamie received her bridesmaid’s dress yet? Oh, were the alterations to her liking? How was Etta doing? Working at home on a Sunday? That was so like her.

Jamie didn’t realize that forty-five minutes had gone by before the first guest arrived. She was ready to play the part of a sophisticated hostess as some of the area’s poshest came up her stairs. Instead, she got Natasha, Etta’s assistant and hardly a “posh” woman.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She clamored up the steps, almost out of breath since running from her cab. “Did I miss anything? Oh, I’m putting you out so badly!”

Jamie shrugged. “Only Monique is here so far. She informed me that everyone else will probably be hours late.”

“Huh? That’s messed up.”

A breeze tickled Jamie’s bare arms, and she was prompted to lead Natasha into the house. “That’s the rich, I suppose.”

Natasha snorted. “They’re probably playing tennis or something.”