Right Billionaire, Wrong Wedding(10)

By: Victoria Davies

As expected, opening the fridge revealed half a loaf of bread, a suspect bag of lettuce, and a few slices of cheese.

“Grilled cheese it is,” she decided, pulling what she needed from the shelves. Luckily there was an unopened bottle of wine on the counter with her name on it.

It took no time at all before she was curled up on her sofa with a plate of cheesy goodness and a blessed glass of wine.

Definitely earned this today, she thought, taking her first sip. Heaven in a glass.

Grabbing the remote, she turned on Netflix.

“Time for a little research,” she said aloud as she typed “wedding” into the search bar.

“The Wedding Singer, The Wedding Planner, The Wedding Date,” she read, scrolling through the options. Who said taking your work home with you couldn’t be fun?

Making her selection, she settled in for the movie, half wondering if she should be taking notes.

No sooner had the title flashed onscreen when her phone rang.

With a groan, she closed her eyes. Only one person in her contacts was assigned that particular ringtone.

She could let it go to voicemail. The thought did cross her mind. But then he’d only call again. And again. She knew how he got when he first started on a project.

She set her dinner on the coffee table and dashed for her bag. Fishing her phone from the depths of her purse, she tapped the answer button.

“Have you seen how much flowers for a wedding cost? Do you think we can grow our own?”

A smile touched her lips at the joking words. Hauling her bag along with her, she flopped back down on the sofa. “In a month? No. I’m not turning my office into your own personal greenhouse.”

“I suppose we’ll have to just write a check then.”

She bit back a grin. “That gets my vote.”

“There are a million articles to read on the internet.”

Allison cradled the phone against her ear, then pulled her laptop from her bag and turned it on. “I know. I’ve already bookmarked a few dozen we should skim.”

“I think we should clear my schedule for the next month. Anything that can be pushed, do it.”

Allison rolled her eyes. What did he think she’d been doing with her afternoon? “I’ve got you down to just the basics. Anything pertaining to the Sterling acquisition or the most important meetings you need to take for the company.”

“There aren’t enough hours in the day.”

Exactly why I want out, she mused. Once she quit, she wouldn’t have any more of these late night phone calls. No more impossible tasks to fill her waking hours.

“Any particular reason you are calling, Darian?”

“Just feeling…”

“Overwhelmed,” she put in. “I told you a wedding planner would make our lives easier.”

“We can handle it. What are you doing?”

“Eating dinner.” She reached for her sandwich. No way would she let the cheese get cold.

“It’s nine thirty.”

“I was with you till an hour ago. I don’t survive on light and air, you know.”

His soft chuckle sounded through the phone, wrapping around her in the still apartment. “You should have just stayed here. We could have gotten Thai.”

“There’s only so much Panang Gai a girl can eat.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Swallowing a bite, she shook her head. “I’ll have you know I actually cooked tonight.”

Turning on the stove top counted, right? There was a pan in her sink to prove it.

“Grilled cheese or spaghetti?”

Dammit, he knew her too well. “All right, you win. What are you doing?”

“Just got in.”

Her chewing slowed. Despite their abnormally close relationship, she hadn’t seen much of his home. Oh, she’d dropped off contracts or files every now and then, but she’d rarely been invited across the threshold. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d even made it to the living room. Darian was a private man who liked to keep business out of his off hours. And she didn’t blame him. It wasn’t as if she’d ever invited him over to her place for dinner, either. They might work all hours of the day together, but they usually did it in the confines of his office.

Pushing to her feet, sandwich in one hand, she wandered around the small space of her one-bedroom apartment. From what she’d seen of his sweeping home, they lived in very different worlds. She’d been thrilled to find a place to rent that wasn’t a studio layout, while Darian’s home boasted rooms bigger than her whole apartment.

She regarded her open concept living room, seeing from the kitchenette to the sliding door that led to her small balcony. It was a cozy space. Lived in. Warm. Darian’s home hadn’t held the same feeling, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.

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