Chapter 1 #2
He does his best to hide his irritation as he drapes an arm over the back of my chair while stabbing his chocolate cake with his free hand. “I love every part of you—even the part who doesn’t want to waste a cup of coffee that was specially roasted for our wedding. They even named it after us.”
“Wedding favors.” I mutter with my mouth full. “At least they were purchased wholesale, right?”
He wipes his lips with his napkin before leaning close to me. “Come back with me to my room tonight. You’ve been traveling nonstop. I’ve hardly seen you. I want you and I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
I focus on my dessert. “We’ve talked about this. Do you want me to look tired on our wedding day? The day that will be documented from now until eternity because the damn internet will never die?”
His fork clanks on the bone china. “It’s been weeks, Harlow. Weeks. You’ve gone from hot to cold on me. What did I do?”
I swallow and dab my lips with the linen before turning to him.
I grab his lapels with both hands and gaze up into the hazel eyes I became obsessed with way too fast. To anyone else, we probably look like lovers talking about our big day and even bigger plans beyond that, like the month-long honeymoon we’re set to leave for the day after tomorrow.
A safari … because Albert insisted.
“I explained already. I had to get ahead before the wedding. My work is not something I can delegate to someone else. I’ve made commitments that I need to see through.
For me to take a month off from the foundation took long hours and a huge amount of coordination, but I did it.
For you. This trip to Africa is important.
Not to mention, this wedding has been a job in and of itself.
I’m tired. One more day, Albert. We can both wait one more day. ”
“One more day,” he echoes, like he’s trying to talk himself into it.
I swat at his chest playfully before I pluck another raspberry off my dessert and pop it into my mouth.
“Besides, all you have to do is roll out of bed and take a shower. I have hair and makeup starting at seven in the morning. I will forever hate the mothers for insisting we have a morning wedding. I might need a nap before the whole thing is over.”
Albert sits back in his chair and tosses his napkin on the table, finally realizing he’s not going to get his way with me tonight—just like he hasn’t for weeks now.
I take one more bite of my crème br?lée before turning to him. “I have such an early morning. I’m going to go back to my suite, take a long bath, and try to get a good night’s sleep.”
He pulls me close and lowers his voice. “You’re not nervous, are you?”
I shake my head and tell him the truth. “No. For once, I can honestly say I’m happy. So happy about what’s to come.”
His exhale turns into a relieved smile. “I’m anxious to make you mine.”
I tip my head and return his warm expression. “I know you are, but I need a good night’s sleep. I want to be my best tomorrow. I know you understand.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’ll walk you to your suite.”
I look around the outdoor venue as people start to mingle.
Despite the guest list that goes on for a mile, we have no attendants.
Janie insisted. She demanded that our wedding would stand apart from the rest, and that Albert and I should be the stars of the show.
My friends from childhood and college will be here tomorrow, but I don’t have anyone I want to spend time with tonight.
Socializing is the last thing I feel like doing, and I didn’t lie when I said I was tired.
I’m so damn tired.
“I’ll be fine. The bridal assistant can drive me back to the main tower in the golf cart. Stay and make excuses for me. I am the bride and should get everything I want, right?”
Albert looks around and seems like he wants to argue but finally gives in. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be the one waiting at the altar.”
“Yes, you will. One more day,” I repeat the mantra that’s been running on repeat through my head like a news ticker.
He doesn’t chant it with me. Instead, he pulls me to him for one more kiss. This one is deeper and more desperate. When he finally breaks our connection, he doesn’t let go of me when he promises, “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I promise right back. “I can’t wait. Make my excuses to Janie. Once she realizes I bowed out early, she’ll have a fit.”
“I’ll take care of her.” He gives my shoulders a light squeeze. “Sleep well, Harlow. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And just like that, I get what I want.
No.
What I need.
Finally.
I grab my cell and clutch and hurry through the lush English gardens toward the paved paths that wind their way around the property in a maze.
But when I come around the bend, I stutter to a stop.
When we checked in, I was assigned an assistant to usher me around in a shiny, white golf cart so I don’t have to hike in my heels. Her name is Marsha. She’s lovely.
She’s also not the one sitting in my bridal cart. In fact, the man reclining in the driver’s seat couldn’t be more opposite of the woman who’s been at my beck and call since I got here.
“Hey.” His tone is low, clipped, and so out of place given the pristine perfection surrounding us.
I tip my head. “Hello. Where is Marsha?”
“Marsha had to step out. I’m here to take you where you need to go. Hop in. Consider me at your beck and call until you drive off into the sunset to live happily ever after.”
He’s older, handsome, and has an English accent.
A triple whammy to the female population in the United States, and I’ve traveled everywhere. But when you’re here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. and hear that deep, male English accent, it just hits different.
Wearing a suit, his dress shirt is open at the collar—no tie—he leans back in the driver’s seat with his leg hitched, resting a loafered foot on the shiny white dashboard.
That’s a feat since he’s tall. Taller than Albert by at least a couple inches, he looks like he’s taken my cart for a serious spin.
His thick, dark hair looks tousled, and I assume out of place since I have no idea what it looks like normally.
What I can’t see are his eyes. They’re hidden behind a pair of dark-tinted Wayfarers.
My feet hurt. I’ve been in these heels for hours, and as nice as my dedicated golf cart is, it’s still a jaunt to get to it. I’m desperate for a ride to the main estate, but there’s something about this guy that I cannot figure out.
“Will she be back?” I press.
He exhales like he’s exhausted and not in the physical sense. More like he has a million things on his plate and doesn’t know where to start, but that start doesn’t include driving me around.
“She will not,” the man clips.
I tuck my clutch under my arm and contemplate running barefoot back to my room.
We booked the entire place for the weekend and were told security wouldn’t be an issue.
In fact, Stonebridge has been working on this for weeks, and they don’t mess around.
They were even impressed with the owner’s precautions.
But still, this doesn’t sit well with me. “Is she okay?”
“I doubt it.” The man sits up straight in the driver’s seat, rests a forearm on the steering wheel, and looks anxious to dump me wherever I need to go.
“She’s out of a job. That’ll happen when you’re caught shagging the pool boy in the coat closet.
So now I’m down an event coordinator, who was moonlighting as a bridal assistant, and a pool boy, not that you needed to know any of that.
My staff is spread thin this weekend as it is.
We’re all-hands-on-deck, but I can’t trust anyone else enough to ferry you around, so that means you’ve got me. Name is Donnelly.”
Donnelly.
Now I’m not sure who is worse, Albert or this Donnelly guy. “That’s an unusual name.”
He shrugs. “It’s not my first name.”
I guess Mr. Donnelly will have to do. He has no idea what’s in store for him. What I do know is that Marsha is getting more action than I’ll see in my near future, and tomorrow is my wedding day.
“Look, Ms. Madison—or should I say, Mrs. Humphries to be—I don’t bite. If you want to go somewhere, I’ll make sure you get there. You want to go somewhere after that? I’m a call away.”
“How do you know my name?”
His thick brows rise before he reaches up and plucks his shades off his face.
Wow.
His blue eyes are so different than the rest of him. They shine brightly in the golden hour and are a stark contrast to the rest of the broody vibes rolling off him in waves.
“Are you shitting me?” he asks in a way that says he’s not looking for an answer.
“I’m the idiot who thought this place would be a good investment.
I thought I could pay people to deal with customers, but those people are too busy baptizing the coat check.
But, really, you’re Harlow Madison. Even if I didn’t book your wedding, I’d know who you are—everyone does. ”
I pull in a breath and move to the golf cart.
It’s a struggle, but I manage to climb in without hiking my white sheath dress.
It’s tighter than it was when I put it on thanks to the impeccable food.
I reach down to carefully pull off my mother’s shoes.
They might be a half size too small, but I wear them whenever I can.
I turn to the rude, slightly crass man beside me.
Now that we’re close, I’m not at all surprised he has no smile lines.
If he ever smirks, I’d be shocked. I’m sure not going to give him anything to smile about for the rest of my time on his property.
“All you had to say was you’re the owner.
If you don’t mind, I’m ready to return to my suite. ”
He gives me a once-over, from my perfectly blown-out hair to my bare feet. “Bowing out of your own rehearsal dinner? I hope it wasn’t the food.”
I shake my head and make excuses, because I’m not about to tell this guy it was the company. “The food was perfect, and the night was everything that was promised. I need a good night’s sleep, that’s all.”
“If you say so,” he mutters as he reaches down and flips the key before he hits the pedal with more force than necessary.
I jerk back in my seat and have to reach for my oh shit handle.
As this grumpy man whisks me away from my fiancé, I allow myself to breathe.
Really breathe.
Maybe for the first time in weeks.
We pass the pool, several tennis courts, and a small marina. As we wind further up the side of the mountain, I take in the beauty of the estate for the first time since I got here.
“I saw the before photos,” I say for the sheer fact I always feel the need to make others comfortable in all situations.
There’s nothing more uncomfortable than sitting in silence with a stranger.
“You really brought this place back to its original glory. Perhaps even surpassed it. I feel like I’m in the English countryside at the turn of the nineteenth century.
It’s really the dreamiest wedding destination, Mr. Donnelly. ”
I hold on tighter, as it feels like we take the curve on two wheels as he mutters, “Nothing like testing it out on two billionaires, right? Though I hear your family has more than his.”
Between Albert’s mother and my step-monster, I should feel bad, but I am the bride, so I’m feeling a bit selfish today.
I’m down to hours, and my choices are limited. There’s no one to save me but myself.
And that’s exactly what I’m doing—or what I plan to do.
I brace when he comes to a skidding halt at the grand entrance. I loosen my death grip and turn to him. “Thank you for the ride.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” His words sound like a promise, while also sounding like he dreads every minute of his future. “Don’t worry. I might’ve had to fire Marsha, but I’ll make sure your day is everything you want it to be.”
I slide out from the golf cart as gracefully as a bowling pin teetering on its edge in this tight dress. I don’t bother to put my shoes on and turn to him. “I’m counting on that, Mr. Donnelly.”
“Enough with the mister—I’m no billionaire.” He digs in his pocket and presents me with a business card. “Call me Devon. After tomorrow, I have a feeling we’ll be on a first-name basis.”
I take the card.
Devon Donnelly.
The Manor at Winslet, CEO.
“Call me if you need anything before tomorrow morning. I’ll be here all night.”
I tuck the card into my clutch for safe keeping. “That’s a long shift.”
He lifts his chin like he’s talking to his buddies rather than a paying customer. “I live here, and trust me, Ms. Madison, it’s no holiday.”
“Please call me Harlow.” I glance up at the manor that leers over us where she sits like a new polished gemstone. “If one has to live where they work, you’ve chosen well.”
Devon doesn’t look like he believes that and gives me a low wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Give me a ring when you’re ready to go down for the ceremony. I’ll come fetch you. Until then, I’m here if you need anything.”
Before I get the chance to thank him or confirm the details for tomorrow, he’s off.
I have no idea who this man is, but I hope he’s prepared for what I have planned. If he only knew what was in store for him, he might’ve waited one more day to fire Marsha.
His offer to be here for anything I need will be put to the test.
I have bigger things to worry about at the moment.
The most important thing.
My future.