The Billionaire's Wedding Planner ✔

CHAPTER EIGHT

R O S A L I E

Wedding Planner Rule Number 4

Your problems are not your clients' problems.

I can't say that I'm not used to being hounded by the paparazzi.

I may not have much fame of my own, but the people loved to follow me around because I planned so many celebrity weddings.

The paparazzi were constantly following me and asking me questions about the plans for whichever wedding was the hot topic, whenever I was revealed as the wedding planner. After the announcement were made, I could barely go to my favourite bakery to get myself some cheesecake on a whim, without having someone shove a camera in my face and ask if the bakery was doing the cake for the wedding.

Dealing with and avoiding paparazzi had become part of the job, but ever since Aiden and Caroline's engagement was announced and it was mentioned that I was the wedding planner, I had suddenly, overnight, become a hot commodity.

I scratched my brow and ticked the last item off of the list that I had made for that day's wedding. It had been a complete success and now, the hotel staff was clearing out the hall.

I checked my watch. It was extremely late, but not unexpected when weddings began in the evening. There was a lull in the hotel as I stood outside, going through the list of things I needed to do.

I took off my shoes and walked towards the dressing room that had been reserved for the wedding, when I heard a commotion. There was a hoard of paparazzi standing outside the glass door that lead to the main atrium and all of them seemed to be screaming my name.

I stood there, horrified for a moment as their flashes went off.

"Oh God," I could hear myself say involuntarily as the crowd came towards the doors.

Without thinking or looking back, I took off in the opposite direction, past the dressing room to find myself somewhere I could hide out.

"Rosalie! Rosalie Darling!" I could hear voices practically screaming at me, as I ran down the hallways.

"Ms. Darling, we would like to ask you some questions about the Carlisle-Baxter wedding!"

I felt like they were getting closer. I turned my head as I ran and saw the reporters gaining on me and I hoped they would get detained by the hotel staff.

I turned around and looked at where I was going, just in time to barely escape crashing into the side of an archway, but sliding and falling to my knees. My shoes fell out of my hands and I let out an aggravated noise.

"Rosalie?" a voice said, from above me.

My stomach dropped, as I assumed it was a reporter. I turned to look who it was.

Aiden Carlisle stood, peering down at me, with a slightly confused expression on his face, wearing a smart, dark grey three-piece suit.

"Aiden," I gasped for breath, trying to push myself to my feet.

Aiden's head snapped in the opposite direction when he heard my name being shouted. Realization dawned on his face immediately and he leaned down and pulled me to my feet.

"Down the hall, quickly," he commanded to me, pointing to a corridor and picking up my shoes off the ground.

He followed me down the hall and quickly pulled me in through a door that sat on the left.

The door opened to reveal a small green room that had a sofa set, a gleaming desk and a TV mounted on the wall.

Once inside, Aiden closed and locked the door.