Chapter 3
Johanna Bennett officially hated weddings. Not marriage. Not love. Just weddings. Or more specifically, Beaumont weddings.
Because Beaumont weddings weren't normal celebrations, they were high-budget emotional warfare wrapped in imported silk, luxury florals, and enough family drama to fuel an entire reality television franchise.
By nine o'clock Tuesday morning, Johanna stood in the center of the grand ballroom inside the Beaumont Hotel staring at a floral arrangement taller than her future and seriously reconsidering every decision that had led her to this moment.
“Why are there lemons?” Bianca Beaumont demanded.
The florist blinked nervously. “Because Ms. Sedona requested Italian coastal elegance.”
Bianca looked one inconvenience away from diving headfirst into the Atlantic Ocean. “She requested champagne gold yesterday.”
“Now she wants Amalfi Coast romance,” the florist explained.
“Tomorrow she'll probably want live swans and Andrea Bocelli.”
Johanna pressed her lips together hard enough to hurt because laughing in Bianca's face felt professionally irresponsible.
Barely.
Morning sunlight poured through towering floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, bathing the ballroom in soft gold and illuminating the chaos in expensive detail.
White orchids overflowed crystal vases. Linen samples draped across chairs like abandoned couture gowns.
Seating charts covered every available surface, while half-empty champagne glasses sat beside laptops, floral catalogs, and color palettes with names like Whispered Pearl and Coastal Ivory.
The Beaumont Hotel always looked breathtaking. Marble floors gleamed beneath massive chandeliers, and the faint scent of orchids drifted through the air. Wealth lived in every polished detail.
Today, however, the place felt less like a luxury resort and more like a pressure cooker in designer heels.
Every vendor within three states was fighting for the chance to work Sedona Beaumont's wedding.
The ceremony wasn't until summer, but that hadn't slowed the madness. If anything, it had made things worse.
For months, wedding planners, designers, florists, caterers, and event companies had been practically campaigning for the opportunity to land one of the most visible weddings on the East Coast. Beaumont weddings routinely appeared in bridal magazines, luxury blogs, and social media feeds.
Being selected as a vendor could transform a business overnight.
Florists had practically entered battle royale territory. Two wedding planners had already quit. One allegedly cried in the lobby before leaving.
And somehow Bianca, head of marketing for the Beaumont Hotel brand and apparently a volunteer glutton for punishment, had stepped in to help screen vendors, coordinate logistics, and keep the entire operation from collapsing beneath the weight of its own expectations.
Bianca wasn't a wedding planner. She was a marketing strategist who routinely orchestrated luxury events, celebrity appearances, and magazine-worthy campaigns.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, that made her the most qualified person in the building to manage the vendor circus surrounding Sedona's wedding.
“Mary Johanna.”
Bianca pointed at her so suddenly Johanna nearly jumped. Whenever she called her by her birth name, she knew something was up.
“You're calm. I need calm people around me.”
Johanna folded her arms. “I'm calm because none of this has anything to do with me.”
“Wrong answer.” Bianca shoved a tablet into her hands so quickly Johanna almost dropped it. “Now it does.”
Johanna looked down at the screen and scanned the latest list of wedding updates. Transportation schedules, security coordination, room blocks, and menu revisions all demanded attention at once.
“Bianca—”
“No.” Bianca shook her head. “You’re helping me.”
Johanna looked up slowly. “Was that a request?”
“Absolutely not.”
Across the ballroom, Sedona Beaumont sat surrounded by fabric swatches and floral samples like a glamorous hurricane victim.
“No, see this ivory feels emotionally cold,” Sedona insisted. “I want timeless romance with elevated coastal softness. Debbie I need your help deciding”
Debra Beaumont stared at her in exhausted disbelief. “Girl, I bake cupcakes. Why am I involved in this conversation?”
“Because you understand aesthetics.”
“You know what else I understand?” Debra muttered. “Stress eating and survival.”
Johanna laughed softly.
Nearby, Sage Beaumont paced near the windows with her phone pressed tightly to her ear, while anxiety sharpened every movement.
“No, I understand the deployment schedule changed,” Sage snapped. “But if Cser misses this wedding, I’m filing complaints with everybody, including Congress.”
Cser, her Army officer boyfriend, was currently deployed, and Sage had spent weeks stressing over whether he'd make it home in time.
Johanna snorted into her coffee.
Bianca pointed across the ballroom. “See what I’m dealing with?”
Honestly, it looked exhausting, but also, strangely beautiful. Because beneath all the noise and theatrics, the Beaumonts genuinely loved each other. Loudly. Fiercely. Inconveniently.
That was the dangerous thing about families like theirs. They made belonging look irresistible.
Johanna had worked for Bianca for nearly six years now, long enough to stop feeling like an outsider and start feeling woven into the fabric of the Beaumont world.
“Okay.” Bianca exhaled sharply. “Here’s what I need.”
Johanna regretted standing still long enough to listen.
“You’ll help coordinate transportation schedules and room assignments. My father and Uncle Richard cannot be on the same floor because they still aren’t speaking.”
Johanna blinked. “They’re still doing that?”
“They’ve been doing that for years.”
“And you still don’t know why?”
Bianca pointed dramatically toward heaven. “At this point only God and Grandma Beaumont in heaven know the answer.”
Johanna shook her head. The feud between the brothers was still a mystery.
Bianca shifted her eyes to meet her gaze. “There’s also a list of guests we need strategically separated because apparently several former relationships are attending.”
Johanna stared at her. “This sounds less like wedding planning and more like hostage negotiation.”
“You'll only be helping until we get through the vendor selection process.”
“How temporary?”
Bianca’s silence told the truth.
“Oh no.”
“Mary Johanna.” Bianca clasped both hands dramatically beneath her chin. “If you love me at all—”
“That’s manipulative.”
“And effective.”
Unfortunately, yes. Because despite the madness, Johanna loved this energy. The laughter. The movement. The feeling that life was constantly happening around her.
The Beaumonts were emotionally exhausting, but they were also warm in a way that made people want to stay close.
Bianca suddenly snapped her fingers. “Oh! I know exactly who can help you.”
Before Johanna could ask what that meant, Bianca turned toward the ballroom entrance.
“Sinfany!”
A woman rose from one of the ballroom chairs carrying two phones, a leather planner, and the focused expression of somebody personally responsible for keeping rich people from self-destructing.
Sinfany was stunning in that polished, effortless way some women mastered naturally.
Warm brown skin glowed beneath the sunlight pouring into the ballroom while soft curls bounced around her shoulders every time she moved.
She wore fitted black joggers, pristine white sneakers, and a cropped cream sweater that somehow still looked executive-level expensive.
As she walked toward them, her eyes narrowed. “Please tell me nobody changed the guest list again.”
Across the ballroom, Sedona slowly lowered her eyes.
Bianca pointed accusingly. “Well…”
Sinfany sighed deeply enough to suggest prior suffering. “Of course she did.”
Johanna burst out laughing.
Bianca moved quickly through introductions. “Johanna, this is Sinfany. She keeps Beaumont Motors functioning despite the men attached to it.”
Sinfany extended her hand warmly. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Bianca continued talking at the speed of panic.
“Johanna’s going to help me survive this wedding.”
Sinfany’s expression softened with sympathy. “Oh, honey.”
Johanna laughed harder.
Bianca hurried off toward a florist carrying something tropical and vaguely threatening while Johanna shook her head.
“I really don't know why I agreed to this,” Sinfany muttered. “This is wedding planner territory.”
Johanna smiled knowingly.
“You can hire ten wedding planners and it still wouldn't be enough. Bianca treats every Beaumont event like the Met Gala.”
“That's because this wedding is basically Sheraton Beach royalty.”
“And the entire town plans to watch.”
Sinfany nodded. “Exactly. No pressure.”
Across the ballroom, Sedona gasped over centerpiece candles while Sage continued threatening military leadership over speakerphone.
Johanna glanced around at the organized chaos, luxury, laughter, strong opinions, and entirely too many moving parts.
Then she smiled despite herself.
Yeah.
This wedding was going to be a beautiful one.
The ballroom doors opened. Johanna felt him before she saw him. A strange awareness moved through her instantly, warm and unsettling, like a familiar song drifting through a crowded room. Her pulse stumbled before her eyes even lifted from the tablet in her hands.
Then she looked up and her breath stalled.
Blaze Carter stood near the entrance looking like every bad decision she'd ever wanted to make twice.