I wince. That’s my plan, of course. Use the clauses of the will to further my share prices. But having him lay it out like that makes it all seem cold and calculated. Which is what it is. So why am I shying away from my actions?
"How’s Isla taking it?"
I wipe my face on the sleeve of my T-shirt. "It’s stressing her out. Maybe there’s an easier way to achieve what I want without putting her in the eye of the storm."
"You’re changing your mind about how high-profile you want the wedding to be?"
"Maybe."
"She knows about your plans?"
"Not really. This is supposed to be her showcase wedding so she can highlight just how well she can pull off a wedding of this magnitude. It helps exhibit her company in the best light."
"Hmm." He strokes his chin. "So, what are you going to do?"
"Definitely going to manage the situation so it doesn’t stress her out more, but at the same time, not diminish the benefits of sharing this wedding with the world… Which is what she wants… I think."
"You do realize what you just said is a contradiction? You can’t do both."
"I’m aware, but maybe I can." I turn and begin to jog toward the villa.
"So, you’re going to find a way to make it happen?"
"I have a plan."
16
Isla
"Oh, wow!"
I take in the flickering candles placed on every table, by the windows, on the shelves by the wall, even along the bar counter at the far end of the restaurant. There’s not a single other soul in sight. Only us.
"You needn’t have shut down the restaurant for us."
"I’m not sharing you with anyone else tonight, LadyBird."
Heat saturates my center. I draw in a breath and a complex, intoxicating, scent fills my senses. The space not taken up by candles has been filled with roses. Red roses. So many red roses. Some with petals which are blood red. Others where the color of the petals is so dark, they’re almost black. Yet others, so pale a red they are almost blush. My favorite color. My favorite shades of color. My favorite flowers.
"You… you did all this?" I glance sideways to find Liam watching me from under hooded eyelids.
When he doesn’t answer, I walk over to touch the perfect petal of the most perfect specimen of a rose. "All Dale King roses." I refer to the family business who has been cultivating flowers for generations, and whose blooms are some of the most expensive in the world. It’s the flowers I turn to for any occasion, or non-occasion. And somehow Liam had found out about it.
"You must have asked to have these flown in even before we left for Venice."
"And if I did?"
"You had so much confidence in your charm, huh?"
"Is it working?"
I chuckle. "I should find your confidence obnoxious; instead, I find it exciting."
"You do, hmm?" The heat of his body singes my back. He pushes my hair to the side, then presses a kiss to the nape of my neck. A flush trickles down my back. My core clenches. His musky scent laces the air, and the combination of that and the sweeter scent of the roses sinks into my blood. My head spins. I need to put distance between us. Need some perspective on this situation.
I pull away from him and walk toward the table in the center, the only one not covered with flowers, laid with cutlery, a single candle in the center.
I came down to find Liam ready and waiting for me. He was wearing white linen pants and a shirt so thin, I could make out the cut of his pecs. His hair was brushed back from his temples like he’d just had a shower. He was freshly shaved, and when I walked over to him, the spicy edge to his dark scent was so potent, my mouth watered. I almost threw myself at him. I wanted to lick him from head to toe, but I stopped myself. Just barely.