Chapter 15
WILLOW
I’m on the speaker phone with Jamie while driving back to New York from one venue viewing to another. The road ahead is mostly clear, but the hardened snow and the thickening fog make it a much longer journey than I anticipated.
“How was The Veneer?” Jamie asks. I can hear his computer keyboard clicking in the background. “Will it hold five hundred people?”
“It will. I wasn’t too crazy about the road accessibility, though,” I tell him. “The venue is gorgeous; don’t get me wrong. In fact, what we saw online doesn’t do this place justice. It’s a winter wonderland, hunting cabin chic. But damn, it’s hard to get to.”
“I thought the Hamiltons didn’t care about that.”
“They don’t; not really. But I had a look at their guest list and did a little bit of research. Some of the people are pretty old and feeble. If something happens, anything at all, and they get snowed in, or worse, emergency services won’t be able to reach them in time.”
Jamie chuckles softly. “Look at you, considering everything.”
“Well, let’s just say the whole Terrence and Katrina wedding fiasco added this health and safety layer to my planning agenda. Had Thornwood Manor been less accessible, they might have not made it in time to help you.”
A somber silence falls on the line. He’s not typing anything anymore, and I know I hit a sensitive topic. I intend to make sure no one has to go through such a traumatic event, not at any of the events I’m planning, anyway.
“Will, the Hamiltons are really set on The Veneer for their wedding reception, though,” Jamie says.
“They also had other options on the list. I’m on my way to see Carlotta’s Chalet as we speak.
It’s closer to the city, just off the main highway.
It’s nestled in the woods but with a good service road,” I say.
“Let me have a look at that, at least, before I present the Hamiltons with my professional opinion.”
“The incident has made it really hard for us to find new clients, babe, just as we were picking up traction again.”
“I know. We’re hanging by a thread, but I need to make sure we don’t have any more incidents going forward. And choosing the right location, regardless of the client’s persistence, is part of the process.”
Jamie lets out a heavy sigh, but I know he agrees with me.
There’s barely any traffic at this hour.
I’d expected mayhem with it being Christmas Day tomorrow, but I suppose the majority of jams are in the city, not outside it.
It’s also still early in the day. Checking the time on my phone, I realize it’s not even noon yet.
Christmas Eve chaos doesn’t usually kick in before three.
I have plenty of time to make it back to the penthouse in time for dinner with the Morgan brothers.
My heart tingles with excitement.
“I’ve heard some great things about Carlotta’s Chalet,” Jamie concedes. “I mean, sure, go check it out, see how it feels. I trust your judgment, Will. Let’s just nail this Hamilton wedding, though. We need it—badly.”
“I’m well aware. By the way, I really hope you’re clocking out soon. It’s still Christmas Eve. Don’t you have an ex-boyfriend to get back together with?”
He laughs lightly. “I’m only sticking around for another hour, tops. I’m sending out the last handful of introductory emails before we close up shop for the holidays. How far from the Chalet are you?”
“Hold on,” I swipe across my navigation screen with one eye still on the road. Lights glimmer in my rearview mirror, but they seem far away. There’s nothing but open fields on both sides, cold, white, and empty. “About ten miles or so.”
“Okay, well, I’ll hold down the fort here until I’m done with these emails.”
“Then go home and rest, please. You’re still recovering, remember?”
“I doubt I will ever forget.”
We both laugh lightly and hang up. As soon as the call ends, music comes back through the sound system connected to my phone. It’s my jazzy Christmas playlist, and it soothes me. Christmas is supposed to be about peace and family, not my struggling business or the attempt on my life.
It’s supposed to be about me winding down with the three men who have changed everything for me, not about me driving around the frozen parts of the state to find the perfect wedding in a desperate attempt to make it into the new year without filing for bankruptcy.
I’ve come this far. I can’t lose it all now.
I frown as I glance in the rearview mirror. “What the hell is this guy doing?” I mutter, my hands tightening their grip on the wheel.
The lights I saw earlier are closer, and so is the pickup truck they’re attached to. I can hear its engine roaring furiously over the music, and I realize it’s rushing forward.
THUMP!
I cry out in shock and blood-curdling fear as my car is jostled by the impact. It takes all my strength and what’s left of my self-control to stay on the road. I push the pedal to the metal, flooring it with ragged breaths as I try to get away from this guy.
“Jesus Christ!” I scream when he rams into the back of my Prius again.
I can’t even see who it is, just that he’s coming after me. Flashbacks from the wedding return with a vengeance as beads of sweat bloom across my forehead, but I keep my eyes on the road, desperate to survive.
The pickup truck blows past me and darts ahead.
I don’t know what to do. The taillights don’t turn bright red, though.
He’s not stopping. He’s racing away from me while the honks get louder from behind.
Finally, a smidge of clarity returns as I look around and say a blessing for still being on the road before I slow down and pull over to catch my breath.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Over and over again, I say it and will myself back into the present.
Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths, Willow.
A dark figure emerges on my side of the car, which startles me, and I scream.
“Willow!” the familiar voice stops me from falling apart altogether.
“Oh thank heavens!” I exclaim as I recognize Cole and get out of the car.
Immediately, I throw my arms around his neck and hang onto him. I hang on for dear life, welcoming the warmth of his body, the strength of his embrace, and the sense of safety attached to him.
“Are you okay?” he asks, holding me tight.
Steam rolls from my lips as I sob with relief and hide my face in his jacket collar. It’s so cold out here, it’s taking a bite out of my red cheeks. “I am now, thank you. That guy… he just… he just came at me out of nowhere!”
“He tried to drive you off the road. I clocked him from half a mile back, but I wasn’t sure if he was just going in the same direction as you or tailing you, so I kept a reasonable distance, just in case.”
The fear clears somewhat, and I remember where we are and what I was doing. I pull away from Cole and give him a troubled frown. “Wait, what are you doing out here?”
“Keeping an eye on you,” he says, his voice low, his gaze darkened with concern.
“You were following me?”
“So was that guy, apparently. Only I was doing it to keep you safe.”
“Wow,” I gasp, not sure whether to feel flattered or annoyed.
Cole nods slowly. “After the Hell’s Kitchen episode, my brothers and I agreed to keep an eye on you at all times.”
“Don’t you guys have your own businesses and lives to take care of?”
“We can delegate where needed as far as the business side of things is concerned,” Cole replies with a casual shrug.
The wind rises, icier than ever, and I’m starting to shiver in just my jeans and woolen, cherry-red sweater.
“As for our life, you’re a part of it now, Willow.
Of course, we’re going to do everything in our power to keep you safe and happy. ”
Tears prick my eyes, because despite the madness, this is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. To think I almost married Terrence. Not a day goes by that I’m not genuinely thankful for that debacle.
“Come on, let’s get you back into the city,” Cole adds, putting his arm around my shoulders. “Grab your stuff; I’ll drive you.”
“But my car…”
“It’s pretty busted at the back. We’ll call AAA.”
“I still have a venue to see today for the Hamilton wedding, though. I was on my way there when this—”
“Willow, I’m taking you home.”
But I insist because my business and my career matter to me. All I can do is hope Cole will understand.
“I just need to see the venue and then we can go home. I’ll send my report to the Hamiltons and not touch my inbox until after Christmas; I promise. My agency needs this wedding now more than ever.”
I almost expect him to argue, but Cole just nods. “Go on then; grab your stuff and lock the car. I’ll get the tow truck on the phone.”