"I’m aware," he snaps. But when he turns to Lila his features are soft, as is his voice. "Whatever you want."
Lila giggles. "Oh, my, you’re so easy to be with, Liam."
Really?If my bridegroom said that, I’d question the hell out of him to make sure he’d actually been listening. But hey, I’m not the one marrying Liam-McHandsome-but-wanker-disposition-Kincaid.
"Well then, I’m glad you could finally come for one of the wedding rehearsals."
"I was here for the last one, which you, on the other hand, missed," he reminds me in that hard voice that manages to be both velvety and sarcastic, at the same time.
Honestly, if I had the talent to sound like that, I’d have wrangled steeper discounts from my vendors. As it is, I’ve had to turn on the charm, and beg, plead and cajole my suppliers to ensure I can pull off this event in the little time I was given.
Don’t complain. Opportunities like this come along once in a lifetime, after all.
This time, it’s thanks to my friend Summer who’s married to Sinclair Sterling, one of the richest, most powerful men in the country and a friend of Liam’s.
When Lila approached me, she simply said that Liam had heard of me through Summer and Sinclair, and their word was good enough, so I was hired. I owe Summer, though she insists it’s my talent and hard work that secured this contract. Sure, I’ve pulled off some high-profile weddings, in record time, for some of my other friends who’ve married Sinclair’s friends, but it’s not just that which clinched this deal. It’s because Summer, and hence, Sinclair vouched for me.
That’s how things work in the circles I’ve hoped to break into. It’s all about who knows who. Summer’s marriage to Sinclair, and later my friend Amelie’s marriage to Weston, who is Liam’s brother, gave me access to the moneyed-class they’re connected to, which in turn, changed my prospects. It also means I’m dealing with entitled bastards like Liam effing Kincaid.
"What, no excuses?" He smirks.
I snap my shoulders back and tip up my chin. "I do believe our business here is concluded, Mr. Kincaid." I turn to Lila, whom I have grown rather fond of in the last few months. "Should we complete the rest of our discussion another time?"
2
Isla
"Should I marry him? What do you think?"
Knew it.IknewI shouldn’t have accepted her invitation to a drink. After that conversation almost went south with Liam—and would have had I not managed to salvage it—I said my goodbyes and left.
Only an hour later, as I slid the key into the lock of my apartment door, my phone vibrated with Lila’s message. She wanted me to meet her for a drink. I almost messaged her to say I was too tired. But my sense of duty insisted I not turn her down. That, and the fact I genuinely like Lila. Her father might be on Forbes' rich list, and she’s undeniably spoiled, but there’s also a hint of a lost child in her. Not to mention, a sense of playfulness about her that appealed to me at once. She’s also great fun to hang out with.
We get along so well together, and as we began to plan her wedding, we were in touch every day. Lately, it’s been almost every hour as we finalize the details of the nuptials. Despite my efforts to the contrary, at some point in the last few weeks, we crossed the line of a professional, work relationship and went straight into friend territory. And the tone of the text was that of a friend needing reassurance. Not to mention, part of the job of being a wedding planner is knowing when to be there to boost the bride’s confidence.
So, despite my exhaustion and the strange sensation in my belly warning me I might be better off not turning up tonight, I came to the bar at the Dorchester, where she told me she was. Now, I pause with my tequila shot halfway to my mouth, and—fuck, fuckity fuck—Iknowfor fact I should not have come.
Sure, I’m here to set her mind at ease, encourage her, and assure her that all is well; and if it were any other bride, I’d buoy up her spirits and tell her yes, she’s absolutely making the right choice. But this is Lila. This is the woman I’ve come to consider a friend. And I don’t lie to my friends.
"Isla?" Lila leans across the table. "What do you think?"
"Umm—" I raise the tequila glass to my mouth and down it. Then cough, and cough, until tears run down my cheeks.
"Oh gosh, here." She slides the beer bottle over to me, and I snatch it up and chug down half its contents. Not that it calms the burning sensation in my chest; which has nothing to do with how I’m going to answer this question, right? I place the bottle back on the table, making sure it’s precisely on the circle of moisture left earlier.
"You okay?" She peers into my features. "Want some water?"
I wipe the tears off of my face. "I’m good." I clear my throat.
"Good." She smiles.
I try to match the curve of her lips, but the muscles of my face are frozen.Don’t ask me again, please don’t ask me—
"So, what do you think? Should I marry Liam?" Her tone is serious. The skin around her eyes stretch. She holds my gaze and oh, lord, she’s not going to take silence for an answer. She wants me to give her my opinion. I’ve known it’s wrong to overstep the boundaries of my professional relationship with Lila. But as much as I hate her husband-to-be, I’ve developed a wonderful friendship with her.
When she met Liam Kincaid and the two embarked on a whirlwind courtship culminating in Liam proposing to her, the society matrons, both in the UK and across the pond, sat up and took notice. Plus, Lila’s father gave the couple their blessing. After all, Liam is one of the most eligible bachelors in the world, one of the few who can meet him eye-to-eye and dollar-for-dollar.
Too bad, his attitude is better suited to a boorish oaf. I took an instant dislike to him as soon as he opened his mouth. He has his head stuck so far up his arse, he needs a pounding to shake it loose, and that might not even work. In fact, I hate the man so much, I almost declined their request to be the wedding planner on this gig—and that’s saying something, considering this is the kind of project every single event manager in the world is salivating for. And I got it. And I intend to keep it.