Sneak Peak #2
"That's..." I pause, trying to come up with a witty comeback, but honestly, that's not entirely inaccurate. "That's a terrible metaphor."
"But accurate."
Before I can strangle him with my emergency backup ribbon stash, my phone buzzes with a text from the local bakery: Island Confections here!
Heard about your cake emergency from resort concierge.
Can absolutely create your three-tier dream cake.
Have your specifications and will deliver. Will be spectacular. Promise.
I show Lucas the text, trying to project confident competence. "See? Under control."
"Impressive." He studies me for a moment, and there's something in his expression I can't quite read. "You always were good at making something out of nothing."
The compliment catches me off guard. Because Lucas Hayes doesn't give compliments—he gives commands and expects the world to fall in line.
"Don't sound so surprised," I mutter, turning back to my clipboard. I've got vendor confirmations to double-check and a timeline to restructure around Jason's delayed arrival.
"I'm not surprised. I'm..." He pauses, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Monroe, we both want the same thing here. Claire's happiness."
"Right. Claire." I focus on my checklist, trying to ignore the way he's looking at me. Like he's seeing something I don't want him to see.
"So maybe we could try not killing each other before the vows?"
I glance up at him, noting the slight tension around his eyes. He's worried about Claire too. The realization softens something in my chest, which is annoying because I was perfectly comfortable hating him.
"Fine," I say. "Temporary truce. But stay out of my way."
"Wouldn't dream of interfering with your... process." His lips twitch like he's fighting a smile.
Before I can ask what that's supposed to mean, another text comes in.
As I stop to respond to it I notice Lucas trying to help me coordinate the upcoming deliveries with the resort staff.
He's completely out of his element with wedding logistics, confidently directing the delivery team to set up the ceremony pavilion linens in the catering area instead of the ceremony space.
"No, Lucas," I interrupt, watching in horror and amusement as he directs the resort staff to set up the ceremony linens in what's clearly the cocktail reception area. "The ivory silk goes on the ceremony chairs, not the bar setup."
He looks genuinely confused. "But you said the ivory accents were critical for Claire's day."
"For the ceremony seating. Not the appetizer station."
The resort coordinator looks between us like we're speaking in code. Lucas, used to commanding boardrooms, gets completely flustered by event logistics.
"In my defense," Lucas replies with wounded dignity, "linens don't usually have market volatility and time-sensitive delivery schedules."
"Hayes, you can negotiate billion-dollar deals but you can't figure out that ceremony décor goes at the ceremony?" I ask, exasperated but secretly charmed by his complete incompetence at my job.
I glance at Lucas, then at my phone as it vibrates, then back at Lucas. For just a moment, I consider letting it go to voicemail. But Lily Chen doesn't do voicemail. She does consequences.
"I have to take this," I mutter, swiping to answer. "Lily, perfect timing—"
"Jenna, I just heard something very interesting." Her voice has that dangerous quiet quality that means someone's about to get fired. "Something about Lucas Hayes being involved in the wedding planning."
My blood freezes. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Preston & Associates has connections everywhere, darling. They mentioned that Lucas Hayes—billionaire tech mogul Lucas Hayes—is personally overseeing vendor coordination for his sister's wedding. Which makes me wonder... why does he feel the need to supervise you?"
I look at Lucas, who's watching me with growing concern. "Lily, that's not—"
"It suggests a lack of confidence in your capabilities. And if Lucas Hayes doesn't trust you to handle his sister's wedding without supervision..."
She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.
"Lily, I can explain—"
"Ten minutes, Jenna. Video call. And you better have a very good explanation for why you need a babysitter."
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone, feeling like I just got punched in the gut by someone wearing brass knuckles made of pure panic.
"What was that about?" Lucas asks, and for once, his voice doesn't carry that infuriating confidence.
"That," I say slowly, "was my biggest client deciding that your presence here means I can't do my job."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?" I turn to face him fully. "Because from where she's standing, it looks like Lucas Hayes doesn't trust his sister's wedding planner enough to let her work unsupervised."
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by something that might be guilt. "Monroe, I didn't mean—"
"It doesn't matter what you meant." I'm already calculating damage control, trying to figure out how to salvage this situation. "What matters is that my reputation is on the line, and your being here makes me look incompetent."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it? You've been here for less than an hour and you've already solved the transportation crisis and taken over my linen delivery. What am I supposed to be doing while you run my event?"
He runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "I was trying to help."
"I didn't ask for help."
"No, but you needed it."
The words hang between us like a challenge. Because he's right, and we both know it. I did need help. I was drowning, and Lucas Hayes threw me a life preserver wrapped in expensive cologne and billionaire efficiency.
But accepting help from Lucas Hayes comes with a price I can't afford to pay.
"Look," I say, forcing my voice into professional calm, "I appreciate what you're trying to do. But I need to handle this myself."
"Even if it means Claire's wedding suffers?"
The question hits like a slap. Because that's the impossible choice, isn't it? My pride and my career, or my best friend's perfect day.
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes with a text from Claire: Everything okay? Jason just called and said he got bumped to first class and an almost direct flight. Thank you SO much for arranging that!
She thinks I arranged the priority flight rebooking. She doesn't know her brother swooped in to save the day while I was having a panic attack about the overextended baker.
I look at Lucas, who's reading over my shoulder with an expression I can't quite decipher.
"Don't tell her," I say quietly.
"Tell her what?"
"That you're the one fixing everything. Let her think I have it under control."
Something shifts in his face. "Monroe—"
"Please." The word comes out smaller than I intended. "Just... let me pretend I'm not completely out of my league here."
He's quiet for a long moment, studying me with those blue eyes that see too much.
"You're not out of your league," he says finally. "You're just used to working alone."
"Because working alone means I don't have to depend on anyone else. And I definitely don't have to depend on men who think they know better than me."
"Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"Isn't it?"
Another pause. Then: "Maybe. But not because I think you're incompetent. Because I can't stand watching you struggle when I can help."
The admission catches me off guard. There's something vulnerable in his voice, something that doesn't match the confident billionaire persona.
"Why?" I ask before I can stop myself.
"Why what?"
"Why do you care if I struggle?"
He looks at me for a long moment, and I have the strangest feeling that we're not talking about wedding planning anymore.
"Because," he says slowly, "you matter to Claire. Which means you matter to me."
It's not exactly a declaration of undying affection, but something in his tone makes my heart do that annoying skip-and-stumble thing again.
Before I can respond, my phone starts ringing.
Lily. Again.
I look at Lucas, decision crystallizing in my mind like sugar in hot water.
"I have to take this call," I say. "Alone."
He nods, but doesn't move away.
"Lucas." I put just enough steel in my voice to get his attention. "I need you to stay out of my way for the next thirty minutes. Can you do that?"
"Monroe—"
"Can you do that?"
He searches my face, then nods slowly. "Yeah. I can do that."
"Good." I answer the phone, forcing confidence into my voice. "Lily, sorry about the delay. I'm ready for our video call."
As I walk away from Lucas Hayes and toward the biggest professional challenge of my career, I try not to think about how much easier everything would be if I could just let him help.
But easy isn't the same as right. And if I'm going to prove I belong in this business, I need to do it on my own terms.
Even if those terms might include overextended bakers, delayed grooms, and the most infuriatingly helpful man I've ever met.
I glance back once to see Lucas watching me go, his expression unreadable. Then I square my shoulders and head inside to fight for my career.
Because that's what independent women do. We fight our own battles, solve our own problems, and definitely don't rely on billionaire knights in designer armor.
Even when they offer to slay our dragons for us.
My phone buzzes one more time as I reach the resort lobby. A text from Lucas: Try not to set the place on fire before the vows, Monroe. Claire would never forgive either of us.
Despite everything, I find myself smiling as I head toward my video call with the client from hell.
The Billionaire's Wedding Planner