Chapter One
‘THE HELIPAD WILL need to be moved to the other side of the island. I dislike the sound of choppers, don’t you?’ Chiara waved her superfood smoothie with one elegant hand before taking a meditative sip. ‘I mean, they’re handy for a quick hop from place to place, but the noise! And the wind!’
Dido obediently added a notation to her daunting to-do list.
No time now to wonder if there was anywhere on the far side of this tropical island suitable for a helipad. As for the logistics and cost, she’d sort that out later. When money was no object it was amazing what could be done.
Chiara frowned, actual lines appearing on her forehead. In the short time since they’d met, Dido had learned that signalled true distress.
‘I don’t want wind blowing about. It makes a mess, especially as I’ll have my hair loose.
’ Her frown became a serene smile. ‘I’ve decided to go with that Boho look, but ultra chic, of course.
Classy and refined but at one with nature, like a woodland nymph, yeah?
Tumbled, tousled waves that look so natural.
They’ll be perfect in this setting. Not too Boho though.
No cheesecloth, thank you very much. But carefree, to fit the island vibe. ’
Dido nodded. ‘Carefree will definitely suit this amazing location.’
She wondered if the bride-to-be expected her to control the weather as well as the wedding. Despite her experience with fussy customers, she had an unnerving suspicion she might have met her match with Chiara Beverly.
No wonder Graydon had been worried about missing today’s first on-site meeting.
Weddings by Gilette had established its name as the wedding planners for the ultra-wealthy.
From the sublimely simple to the outlandishly ostentatious, it didn’t matter.
Graydon Gilette and his team created magic every time.
Dido wished she were part of a team today, not here solo.
Her boss had come down with shingles and though he’d planned to leave his sickbed and fly to Tahiti, the client absolutely refused to have an ill person anywhere near her.
All the other senior consultants were tied up with weddings or wedding rehearsals, which left Dido to manage alone.
‘The whole event will be an oasis of calm and quiet. Except for the Polynesian drummers, of course.’ Chiara turned those famous blue eyes on her. ‘You’ve made a note of that, haven’t you? And did I mention I’m thinking of fire-walkers too? Or maybe fire-eaters?’
‘You didn’t. But that’s exactly why we’re here, to talk through your vision for the wedding.’
Dido smiled, projecting the calm confidence of a seasoned event planner as she made a note to check whether there were local fire-walkers and fire-eaters, or whether they’d need to be brought in. Were fire-walking and fire-eating even Tahitian customs?
It didn’t matter how impossible the client’s requests. She’d find a way to achieve those dreams. Or later, subtly guide the woman to an alternative in a way that made Chiara believe she’d come up with the idea herself.
‘You can rely on me, Chiara. I’ll make it happen.’
They’d only met an hour before, but already she had an extra four pages of urgent action items on top of the copious notes she’d made prior to this meeting.
Chiara nodded, her expression earnest. ‘I am relying on you, Dido. I almost cancelled completely when Graydon got sick. It seemed like an omen, you know? But I feel I can trust you.’ She pressed a hand between her breasts.
‘I can feel the connection here. Together we’ll make this the most stunning wedding. ’
Dido lowered her tablet, meeting the other woman’s gaze. ‘Yes, we will. I can’t tell you how pleased I am you feel that way, Chiara. That’s a real compliment.’
With Chiara’s money and Dido’s hard work and ingenuity, she’d make sure it was everything the bride wanted.
The fact Chiara and her partner had booked out the whole luxury island resort this weekend, just so they could meet here in private to make their plans, proved the sky was the limit when it came to funding.
Dido wouldn’t be alone on this project. Graydon would be personally involved along with a team of junior staff. Yet it would be her chance to prove herself and claim a more senior spot in his company—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Make-or-break for her career.
‘Have you thought about where you want the ceremony?’
The other woman nodded and led the way to the white sand beach beyond which the sea was a preposterously beautiful aqua. ‘By the water. The sea will bring out the colour of my eyes, don’t you think?’
‘Absolutely,’ Dido enthused. ‘It will be a perfect backdrop for you.’
It wasn’t a lie. Chiara, with her willowy frame, blonde beauty and stunning eyes, would look wonderful in the photos and videos.
‘About here I thought.’ Her client halted then paused to look at the shade cast by a slender palm tree. ‘That tree will have to go. In fact that whole grove. We don’t want coconuts or whatever falling during the ceremony.’
A quick glance revealed no evidence of coconuts. ‘Good point,’ Dido murmured. ‘I’ll just make a note to chat with the photographer. They’ll probably have a view on whether the graceful curve of the trees might enhance that carefree, nymph vibe you want in the photos.’
While Chiara was pondering that she went on, ‘So, barefoot in the sand or…?’
‘Absolutely not! Just too casual, yeah?’
For a moment Dido found herself remembering just such a casual, beachside wedding.
The sun had been setting in hues of peach and amethyst, the air had been balmy, and while it had been simple and quiet, she’d believed it utterly perfect.
But that had been three years ago, when she’d been lamentably gullible. She’d long since lost that naivete.
Dido never thought of that day any more. She hated that the memory popped into her head now, unsettling her.
Because it’s the first time you’ve been back to an island paradise since.
Her finances and commitments had meant there’d been no dream destination holidays. No holidays at all.
Dido sucked in a slow breath, ignoring the painful jab of emotion behind her ribs, and concentrated on what her client was saying.
‘… the sand gets everywhere. It would cling to the bottom of my dress. Did I tell you it’s going to be trimmed with lace handmade by the dearest little Belgian nuns?’
‘That sounds stunning. I can’t wait to see it.’
No sand, she wrote. Perhaps they could lay a path to the beach. Some surface that would blend in perfectly with the colour of the sand.
Chiara was right, of course. A beach wedding meant sand, but three years ago Dido had merely thought it suitably romantic.
Fool!
‘I thought of an arch of flowers to frame us as we make our vows. But that’s been overdone.
’ Chiara sipped her mud-coloured smoothie.
‘Then I thought helium balloons. But my man said no. They land in the ocean and sea turtles and things eat them and die. Though why they’d want to eat a balloon, I don’t know. ’
Dido could have told her it was because the deflated balloons often looked like jellyfish to creatures searching for a meal.
But her attention was caught by the reference to Chiara’s fiancé. The man’s identity still hadn’t been mentioned, leaving speculation in the office that he was even more high-profile than Chiara and possibly in the final stages of ending a previous marriage.
Whoever he was, he seemed to have a conscience about the environment.
Could he be a famous naturalist and TV presenter?
What would he make of his fiancée’s plans to move the helipad, chop down trees and use a private jet to fly in several hundred thousand pounds’ worth of flowers that couldn’t be locally sourced?
Dido had worked in events management long enough to know that smoothing arguments between loved ones was perhaps the most thankless part of her work. She hoped the pair could agree, otherwise it was going to be a very long weekend.
* * *
It was early evening when the sound of a helicopter broke the serenity of the almost-deserted resort.
Dido had grown so used to the silence and the sense of having the island virtually to herself, that the roar shocked her.
Startled, she looked up from her spreadsheet, surprised to see how low the sun hung above the water. She rolled her shoulders and arched her neck. She’d been absorbed in her work and lost track of time.
Checking in with Graydon had reassured her on several points, but thrown up a stack more concerns, not least her boss’s disquiet at not being able to attend the client meeting.
If Chiara had been demanding, Graydon was double that, on steroids. Usually he’d lead this consultation, with Dido or another consultant doing the legwork. The sickness that prevented him attending had made him tetchy too.
Looking through the open doors of her bungalow to the shallow waves lapping the white sand beach, she knew an overwhelming urge to play hooky.
Surely, just for half an hour…
Closing her work, she padded into the bedroom and the clothes she’d brought.
They were all chic enough to pass muster with clients who expected the best of the best. But at the last minute she’d thrown in her old bikini.
She hadn’t worn it in years. Hadn’t had the chance.
But she’d hoped she might get an hour’s downtime on this exquisite South Sea island.
This was her opportunity. After their long discussions, Chiara had spent hours being pampered in the spa. Now her fiancé had arrived, it was unlikely she’d call Dido to discuss wedding matters.
Chiara’s face lit up when she talked of her man and Dido’s curiosity spiked about him. What did he do that kept him away from his beautiful fiancée?
She’d find out tomorrow when the three of them met to go through the plans.
Grabbing a large beach towel, she headed through the open glass doors onto a sandy path to the water.