Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Grady
Agreeing to meet with Sebastian’s brother for wedding planning seemed like a good idea at the time.
Until we’re standing outside the small building bearing the words Petriov and Devlin Event Services.
Now it feels more like a terrible idea. One Devlin is more than enough to deal with on a semi-regular basis.
Doing business with another one is just asking for trouble.
“The name is very on the nose,” Lake says with a cheeky grin. “If I owned my own business, I’d be punning for days.”
I can just imagine. “Sometimes straightforward is best.” Using fancy names—or in Lake’s case, ridiculous puns—only works well if it’s still obvious what the business is for. Otherwise, it’s just terrible marketing.
I don’t know what I’m expecting when we walk in, a really fucking-annoying jingle sounding as Lake pushes the door open.
Not the quiet, orderly space with a generic sitting room and a clean reception desk.
It’s empty, with low music in the background and plants that look like they’re thriving. Someone here has magic, obviously.
“You talked to him?” I ask Lake. “Eli?” Considering one of the names on the sign out front was “Devlin,” and that’s Sebastian’s last name, we’re at least in the right place.
“Yes,” Lake confirms with a nod.
He doesn’t elaborate. “And?”
Lake shrugs and loops an arm around my elbow. “We organised a meeting time, and that was it. I had some questions, but he swore at something and hung up, so I wrote them down.” He frowns. “Shit, I left the list at home. Should we go back?”
“We’d miss our appointment time. Just email them later.” I pause. “Wait, he swore and hung up? That sounds professional.” A great way to get business, I’m sure.
“Well, Seb did warn me that he had a sparkling personality.” Lake’s grin turns lopsided. “I’m getting good at handling sparkling personalities.”
“I hope the only one you’re ‘handling’ is mine,” I growl automatically. There’ll be no handling.
Lake winks at me, curling up against my side. “In the ‘I’ve touched your dick’ way, yeah.”
“What’s the other way?”
Lake tilts his head thoughtfully, giving it more consideration than it rightfully deserves.
He doesn’t get a chance to answer, because a man comes through from the back hallway.
The dark-red hair and face full of freckles pegs him as Sebastian’s younger brother.
Not because he looks anything like Sebastian—the eyes and nose are a similar shape, maybe—but because I remember Quinn saying something about it once. That many freckles are hard to miss.
“Professional” definitely isn’t the first word I’d use to describe him.
Far from it. Ratty jeans and a long-sleeved, grey sweater rolled to the elbows.
A sleek silver watch hangs on his right wrist, along with a black leather bracelet just behind it.
His left ear has a sleeper earring, and a stud, and three more rings at the top curve.
Eli smirks at us, like he knows a secret we don’t. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s just as much a smartass as his brother, even without him saying a word. I regret everything already.
“Lake and Grady?” he asks.
“That’s us!” Lake happily replies. “Eli, right?” He bounces forward and is shaking Eli’s hand before anyone can blink.
Eli glances at their joined hands and gives a bare minimum squeeze before extracting himself and shoving a hand in his pocket as if that could stop the encounter from happening again.
He’s clearly never met a tornado like Lake. A pocket won’t save him.
“Come on through. Jay’s ready to talk you through the first consult and get shit rolling.”
“You aren’t doing it?” Lake asks as we follow the brother further into the building.
“Not this part. I’m more in charge of banging heads together later to make sure you get everything you need when you need it.”
“Your part sounds more fun,” Lake says cheekily.
Eli flings a grin over his shoulder. “It is.”
Great, just the kind of influence that Lake needs.
Eli leads us to a small room with two couches and a long coffee table between them, with a bunch of folders in the middle, and a large bouquet of fresh flowers. It smells nice, like vanilla and cinnamon. There’s also another not-dead plant by the door. More magic. Maybe we’ve entered a leyline.
The man waiting for us, seated and wearing a suit that’s far more professional than Eli’s outfit—though the tie is badly skewed to the left—must be Jay, the other owner of the business.
Standing as we enter, he holds out a hand as he says, “Lovely to meet you both; I’m Jayden. Sebastian says you’re in need of some assistance for your wedding?”
He gets the same enthusiastic handshake from Lake that Eli did, though he takes it with far more grace and a kind smile. The vague detail from Quinn—that Jay is Sebastian’s best friend—has to be false. Riley, I can believe. This guy? There’s no way.
“Yell if you need anything,” Eli says from the doorway, with a grin that doesn’t put me at ease at all. “I have some phone calls to make and a site to visit with Dawson.”
“Try not to make anyone cry.” Jayden’s tone suggests he says it multiple times a day. What kind of business are they running?
“No promises.”
Jayden gives us a wry smile once we’re alone. “Have a seat, please. I promise that he’s very good at his job—and can even behave himself at times—even if his people skills could use some work.”
Isn’t the whole point of “event management” people skills? Not like I can talk, really. I’m not much into comfort; that’s why I have a partner who’s better at being gentle. Sounds like they have a similar arrangement. A kind of good cop/bad cop scenario.
“And what is his job?” Call it professional curiosity. And to see if I can pick up any dirt to use on Sebastian.
“He keeps everything coordinated and makes sure A gets to B and that everything is on task. He looks small, but he keeps people in line.”
I bet.
Jayden gives me a knowing smile and then pulls the top folder from the pile, flipping it open and pulling a pen from the inside of his jacket.
“In terms of plans, what do you already have organised?” At my blank look—he should be looking at Lake, not me—he says, “It’s okay if the answer is nothing; that’s what we’re here for.
I just need to get an idea of where to start. ”
“We’ve got the flowers sorted—from the florist ‘Talk Dirt with Me,’” Lake answers.
I still don’t believe that’s really the name of the place even if he showed me a business card with the name. He could have printed that himself. Elaborate, but Lake is nothing if not enthusiastic.
“I know the one,” Jay says with an amused glance, “though we’ve never worked with them before. They have a talent for getting in some very rare specimens. I can get in contact with them, to coordinate, if that works for you?”
The less I have to organise, the better.
“We also have a bakery for the cake, though not for the catering,” Lake says, looking at me for confirmation as if I had anything to do with it. I regret that I haven’t been as involved, and I’m trying to change that, but I can’t even say the name of the bakery.
“We know where we want the venue,” I contribute. That much I at least know. “We haven’t booked it yet, don’t even know if we can since it’s a public area.” It’s gardens with a lake, close to where we live, that Lake likes to visit to feed the ducks and picnic.
“I like the ducks,” Lake says, echoing my thoughts.
“If you can tell me where it is, I can make some enquiries. If it doesn’t work, I’ll do my best to find somewhere that’s similar.”
Jayden writes down the name I give him and then flips to the next page. “What about your outfits?”
“We’re going shopping…” This weekend or next? I pull out my phone to check the dates. “Next weekend.”
“Wonderful. At a specific place or are you still shopping around? We have a list of places that we use and can get you a good deal for if you’re open to ideas.”
“We’d love the list!” Lake says enthusiastically. “I’ve never bought a suit before.”
I’m still not opposed to him wearing his formal wear to the wedding, instead of the traditional tuxedo.
“Do you have a guest list, with a rough estimate of numbers?” Jay continues.
“With such a close date, the RSVP may need to be modified. If we can send out physical invitations in the next week, we can ensure there’s an electronic way to respond.
Or there are digital invitation options for you to look at. ”
Before either of us can answer—not that I have an answer for him, because he’s rattling off a lot of questions I’d never even thought of—my phone rings in my hand.
It’s not a number I recognise, but it is local. Fucking Christ, can’t crime wait for a few hours while I try to sort out getting myself hitched? At this rate, we’ll never get married.
“Sorry, excuse me.” Once I’m out in the empty hallway, I answer with, “Detective Donehue.” Has to be work related; no one who isn’t on my contact list would call me for any other reason.
“Grady, it’s Emmett.”
Emmett. Why the hell is a uniformed officer calling me?
I know him from seeing him at crime scenes, and the occasional beer at Aubrey’s place when Quinn drags me out unwillingly after work.
We don’t shoot the shit, and he doesn’t call me out of the blue.
All new cases come directly from Riley, or Quinn if Riley calls him first.
“Something wrong?” is my first question.
“I’ve got your kid here.”
That makes me pause. What the fuck? “What?” Emmett knows bloody well and good that I don’t have a kid. We don’t talk much, but I’d have mentioned something like that at least once.
“Got caught shoplifting. Says he’s your kid.”
Shit. “Riley.”
“That’s the one.”