Chapter 5 Emilia #2
“No, it’s actually quite simple,” he relied in a tight voice. “We let our guests make the decisions and we follow their wishes.”
“Well, I like to make sure that we have a consensus between our bride and groom and that everyone is happy. I think in this scenario the best way to do that is table the escargot for now and circle back.”
“I just explained to you that we can’t move on to the next part of the tasting without knowing exactly which appetizers we’ll be serving,” Drew said. “Were you not paying attention?”
Was this guy serious? The whole point of sampling the food ahead of time was to determine what they wanted to serve and that meant tasting everything on offer.
“Of course I’m paying attention. The only thing that matters to me is my clients’ happiness. As in both of them,” I scowled at him. “In all of my years of wedding planning I’ve never encountered such an inflexible menu policy.”
He crossed his arms and stared down his nose at me. “Maybe that’s because you don’t often experience the type of luxury experience that Ashford Resorts has to offer.”
Did this man just imply that I was cheap? No way, buddy. Them’s fighting words.
“Or maybe it’s a case of me opting to work with resorts who understand that wedding planners act on behalf of their couples, and who honor the planner’s well-honed opinions, which are based on years of experience. And you? How many weddings have you done?”
I held my hand up to my ear obnoxiously as I waited for him to answer me.
Drew’s jaw tightened. “I oversee every aspect of my resorts so I’m more than comfortable weighing in on this very important event.”
“But you’re not a wedding planner,” I shot back, refusing to yield an inch. I braced myself for the kill-shot. “Remind me, does the resort even have one on staff?”
Drew’s eyes flashed at me. A direct hit.
“We have an incredible and very experienced team of people working together to ensure that Kristen and Carter have a wedding day that exceeds their wildest dreams.”
“Um, guys? Can we take a quick break? I’m starting to feel a little overwhelmed,” Kristen said.
Drew and I seemed to deflate at the exact same moment. What the hell were we doing? We’d totally shifted the focus from the couple to ourselves, and that wouldn’t do.
“Okay folks, take five,” Dorian said, looking peevish.
Oh dear god, how had I managed to actually forget about Dorian and the entire film crew?
Fifteen minutes of humiliating fame, here I come. Shit.
My entire job depended on my ability to not be noticed.
I was supposed to blend into the background while I kept the spotlight where it belonged—on the beautiful couple celebrating their special day.
At no point was it ever supposed to be about me.
But something about Drew Ashford made me forget all of that.
I walked away with Drew close behind me. “We need to talk,” he said in a low voice.
“Agreed,” I said, letting him lead the way into a private room off the kitchen.
“We—” he started to say, but I held a hand up, cutting him off.
“Turn off your mic.”
He frowned. “There aren’t any cameras in here.”
“Doesn’t stop the mics from recording audio,” I pointed out. “Turn it off.” Matching actions to my words, I flipped the switch on mine.
He frowned at me. “How do I…”
With a herculean effort, I managed to keep from rolling my eyes. “The switch is on the battery pack.”
“Battery pack?” he repeated, looking even more confused.
Lord, save me from Luddites. “Here, let me…” I stepped in close, reaching for the battery pack they’d clipped to his waist. He…wow, he smelled good. Like, really good. Distractingly good. And I couldn’t afford any distractions.
Click.
I flipped the switch and stepped back hurriedly, hoping I wasn’t blushing.
He cleared his throat. “Listen, that was bad form on both of our parts.”
“I agree,” I said immediately. He blinked at me for a beat, as if my agreement was the last thing he’d expected.
“Well…good. We need to be on the same page about this. We can’t let our issues with each other cloud the event,” he continued.
“Yes, absolutely.”
“The show isn’t supposed to be about us, and frankly, the less I have a camera on me, the happier I’ll be.”
“I feel exactly the same way,” I replied.
“So you agree that you were out of line with what you said?”
Now just wait a minute… “If you’ll agree that you were out of line implying that I’m some kind of cut-rate hack who can’t be trusted not to break the good china or steal the silver spoons,” I responded sweetly.
“So you think you acted professionally when you threw that question about the wedding planner in my face?” he retorted.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have questioned my expertise.”
“And maybe you shouldn’t have walked all over your groom’s choice of appetizer.”
“And you—” I inhaled to go into another rant, and it was only when the inhale pulled in that sweet-spicy scent that I realized I’d somehow gotten up in his face again. Damn it, how did that keep happening?
I took a firm step back.
“The couple will make their own decisions about the menu,” he said, through gritted teeth. “If they ask either one of us for our opinions we’ll give them, but we’ll both let them decide for themselves. Agreed?”
I nodded sharply.
“And overall, in the interests of keeping things professional…” he added, “I’d like to make you an offer.
If you do everything you can to make sure this wedding goes off without a hitch—and without any major drama in front of the cameras—you’ll get a bonus, payable after the ceremony.
You know that I need this to go well. So what’s that worth to you? ”
I paused a beat to process what he was saying.
“I’m sorry, are you trying to buy me? Like, I’ll be beholden to you instead of my clients? I don’t work for you, I work for them.”
His perma-furrow shifted. “But what if you did?” he asked.
“Did what?”
“Did work for me.”
For a moment, I just stared at him. Then I threw my head back and laughed like a hyena, so loudly that I was glad we were in an enclosed room with no cameras around.
“Never! Oh my god, not in a million years,” I said through my laughter.
“I’m serious,” he said, stalking closer to me.
“You know we need an on-staff event planner. We could consider this event a trial run. Then you’d come work for the resort and enjoy all of the benefits of fixed, permanent employment.
Paid vacations. A 401(k). Excellent healthcare.
Free lodging at any of our resorts. None of the endless headaches of being self-employed. ”
“Why would you care about my headaches?” I asked.
“I care about my headaches. And this would solve a couple of them. You’d have an incentive to make the wedding run smoothly and make the resort look good on camera. And I wouldn’t be stuck handling the events here myself once you officially start the job.”
“After all that garbage you just said about me not being qualified?”
“I go for the easy shots when I’m aggravated,” he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “You seem to bring that out in me.”
“Yeah? Well, ditto, asshole. So how are we going to square that with me working for you?” I shuddered to sell how unpleasant the idea was.
He shrugged. “We have properties spread throughout the world. I don’t even live in Carmel—I’m just sticking close for now to try to get the resort through this rough patch. Once things get back to normal, you’ll barely see me. So, you’d be stuck with me through this wedding and that’s it.”
He fished his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Drew held up his phone to show me the job description. He tapped the salary amount on the screen. “You agree to the deal, and I’ll double this.”
I forced my expression to remain neutral, because holy fuck it was a lot of money. I could get all the renovations done at once, with top-of-the-line new fixtures, and rent a place to stay while the work was completed. No more construction mess! Poppy and Winston would be thrilled.
And honestly, the job sounded amazing. Yes, I loved planning weddings—but the resort saw all sorts of different kinds of events.
Galas, social celebrations, charity benefits…
sure, they all had their challenges, but it would be great to get a break from bridezillas.
And to have a steady paycheck. And to get paid vacation and sick days. And a 401K.
But I needed to play it cool. I raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
“And?” He circled his hand in the air impatiently because people were shuffling back into position at the table. “Is that a yes?”
Oh how I loved letting him dangle. Was I about to make a mistake? Maybe. The next few weeks were not going to be easy. But the reward would make it all worthwhile in the end. I stuck my hand out to him.
“Put it in writing and we have a deal.”