The Right Mr Wrong

Aurelie nodded. ‘My assistant. Perhaps you can do the extra five while you’re here?’ She slid open the top drawer of the desk and drew out a sheet of paper with a list of names typed on it.

‘Of course I can…’ She’d brought her pen and ink and spare card with her, but the implication of five more guests suddenly hit and caused tunnel vision. ‘Umm…with the extra guests…’ Victoria’s innards shrivelled. ‘Does that mean you’ve changed the seating plan?’

That plan had taken so very, very long already. One large board with all those two hundred and thirty-four names written yet again in flourished copperplate, plus titles for the table—surf beaches. The thought of redoing the entire thing sent Victoria’s brain spinning. The nerves in her hand shrieked.

‘Yes.’ Aurelie turned her beautiful face towards her, and drew up to her full height—almost a head taller than Victoria. ‘Will that be a problem?’

‘Not at all.’ Victoria somehow stretched her mouth into a smile and lied. She’d stitch back her eyelids and work round the clock for the next five days and nights to get this done—and she was going to need every one of those hours to do it.

She remembered being a bride, wanting everything to be perfect. She’d work as hard as she could to help Aurelie have everything the way she wanted. But while Victoria’s own ceremony had been fairy-tale pretty, her marriage to Oliver hadn’t been perfect. It had been a slow-imploding mess.

Working on Aurelie’s wedding would help her recovery, financially at any rate. There were so many privileged people coming, with her best work on show, she might get more commissions.

The irony of having a career where she helped people create their perfect weddings wasn’t lost on her, given her own spectacular matrimonial failure. But she wasn’t cynical. For the right couple, a wedding was a wonderful beginning.

Hopefully Aurelie’s fiancé was a decent guy. Victoria knew even less about him than she did about Aurelie. She hadn’t looked up any Internet info—the turnaround time was so tight she’d had to get straight on with writing. But she’d recognised the names of some of their guests—elite sports people, celebrities, models.

‘I’m sure I can count on you.’ Aurelie smiled.

It was one of those smiles with an ‘I’ll kill you if you screw up’ edge. Well, while Aurelie was counting on her, Victoria would be counting on coffee—dump trucks of it.

‘I can do the cards here and now if you’d like, but I’ll need to redo the table plan at home. I don’t have the supplies here.’

Aurelie nodded. ‘I’ll get my assistant to email you the changes for that.’

‘And I’ll bring it here as soon as it’s done.’

‘And when will that be?’ The ice cool question, the smile. No pressure at all.

Victoria hesitated, desperate to please but not wanting to over-promise. ‘Well in time for the wedding.’ Victoria clung to her smile as Aurelie looked at her for what felt like hours.

Finally Aurelie smiled back. ‘Thank you.’

Great. Victoria put her bag on the chair and took out her pen case and ink bottle. Five cards shouldn’t take that long and she’d please her client. Then she’d rest up on the train and study the seating changes at home. And call by the shop on the way to load up on stay-awake supplies.

‘Do you like the candles?’ Aurelie suddenly asked.

Victoria turned. Aurelie had opened the lid of a big box stacked beside the desk. It was filled with tissue-wrapped cylinders neatly packed end to end. Aurelie lifted one out and unwound the delicate covering and revealed a candle in a gorgeous soft white.

‘They’re surfboard wax scented.’ Aurelie giggled. ‘My favourite.’

Victoria grinned at the quirkiness. To be married in a French chateau by candlelight with handwritten calligraphy and lace and silk everywhere? Not to mention fireworks and orchestra and fountains? Aurelie might be doing some things slightly out of order, but there was a lot that was traditional in her plans—and fun. She was having it all. Good for her.

‘They’re beautiful. This whole place is beautiful. It is going to be enchanting.’ Victoria meant it, she really did.

Aurelie put the candle back. ‘It is going to be parfait!’

‘It is.’ Victoria drew in a breath for courage. ‘Now, the menu hasn’t changed, has it?’ she asked, mentally crossing every crossable part of her body as she waited for the answer.

‘No.’ Aurelie laughed—a peal of infectious amusement that had Victoria smiling again. ‘I see why you were recommended,’ Aurelie said. ‘You don’t get flustered. You just say yes.’

Victoria maintained her smile despite the tweak on her nerves. In two minutes Aurelie had nailed her. Victoria had been so good at saying yes. To her parents, to Oliver. To the people she’d been desperate to please more than anything—more than herself. And then what Aurelie had said registered.

‘I was recommended?’ Who’d have done that? She’d only been in Paris seven months—most of her income was derived from the secretarial work she got from an agency. She’d only recently relaunched her online calligraphy and personal stationery design business. Perhaps it was a contact from when her company had been flying high in London? Either way she was grateful—despite the last minute panic that Aurelie had just dumped on her.

But Aurelie didn’t answer, she’d swiftly crossed to the window. Now Victoria too heard the crunch of the gravel outside. A car.

‘Oh, no,’ Aurelie gasped. ‘He’s here. He can’t see any of this. If he comes in here, hide it. Everything.’ With superior athletic grace, even with that burgeoning belly, Aurelie ran from the room.

Victoria blinked at the suddenly empty atmosphere. Presumably he was the groom. Curious to see what kind of guy had landed the incomparable Aurelie, she walked over to the window and peered down the two levels to the grand entrance.

The discreet-but-gleaming black car parked right in front was empty. As she watched, one of the conservatively clad assistants strode across the courtyard towards it. No doubt he was going to park it somewhere where it wouldn’t ruin the picture-postcard perfection. While it might be a ‘miniature’ chateau, it was still one of the grandest buildings Victoria had ever been in. Surrounded by formal gardens with long avenues and hidden nooks and a selection of trick fountains, it was gorgeous.

She went back to the desk, picked up the completed cards and dropped them back in their protective box. She didn’t want any damaged; she had too much to redo already. She took out several blank cards from the other box she’d brought in case, frowning as she arranged them. The desk was beautiful, but it wasn’t angled like her one at home. It’d be better if she could do these there, but she wasn’t about to say ‘no’ to Aurelie.

She prepared her pen, drawing up ink, and worked on a practice card—warming up her fingers and getting the ink to flow smoothly.

‘Aurelie, you in here?’

Victoria froze, her pen digging into the card. Shock curdled her blood. Ink spilled but she hardly noticed. Because she knew that voice. That warm, laid-back, confident call.

She turned her head as he walked into the room. Her heart paused for a painfully long time between beats. She held her breath even longer.

Liam?

Utterly gorgeous, absolutely unattainable Liam?

Her eyes were so wide they wanted to water. But that wasn’t happening. Not in the presence of this particular guy. Never ever.

He paused, barely noticeably, before walking towards her. But, as always, Victoria noticed every tiny thing about him, so she saw that slight hesitation. She also saw his height—his tall, lean, muscled physique. He’d always been an athlete and more competitive than most. Dangerously competitive. Liam Wilson wanted to win, no matter the cost.

And he’d won the best, hadn’t he?

Aurelie.

His sunflower-flecked brown eyes locked on her. Staring right back, Victoria saw the trademark easy-going stubble covering that sharp-edged jaw. She saw the dark brown hair, cropped closer than it had been the last time she saw him. Only vaguely did she take in the jeans and white tee because she was fully mesmerised by his expression—that intense, purposeful focus.

OM freaking G.

Liam Wilson. She couldn’t believe it. Completely thrown, she looked down for a sec to collect her scrambled thoughts. How could he have grown even more attractive? How could she take one look and want all over again?

Pulling the plug on the visual didn’t work. Because now she remembered so much of a time that had been so short. Now she wanted to hide. No one had ever exposed her the way Liam once had—with just one look.

‘Victoria.’

She fixedly stared at the ink-splodged mess she’d made on the card, aware he’d stopped a few feet from her chair.

He cleared his throat. ‘Long time, no see.’