Wedding Planner's Golden Rule: Don't fall in love with the groom.
Handsome, charming, billionaire playboy, Aiden Carlisle's wedding to beautiful, but demanding Caroline Baxter is set to be the event of the century.
Sweet, smart and talented, Rosalie...
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Wedding Planner Rule Number 9
Always keep all parties happy.
The office was mostly in darkness.
Everyone else had gone home and I was in my office, making the notes that were fresh in my mind from the meeting I had had earlier that day with the loveliest couple.
A sound near the door made me raise my head.
There was a figure that was moving towards me in the darkness.
I felt vulnerable.
They could see me, but I couldn't see them.
I got up and picked up the lamp on my table to use as a weapon.
Before I could think of moving, the figure had made its way to my door. I raised the lamp ready to fling it.
"Rosalie, no! It's just me."
I dropped my shoulders.
"Ian! What the hell are you doing here? You scared the life out of me," I said, putting the lamp back, "God!"
"Sorry," he said, coming into my office.
I looked at him. He was dressed in his work clothes, looking completely put together, as he always did.
"What brings you here?" I asked, when he was quiet for a while.
He looked at me.
"I think I'm dying," he said.
My eyes widened. "What? What's wrong?" I asked, taking a step towards him.
"I've been coughing up blood," Ian told me, his shoulders hunched.
My heart twisted in pain. It was true that Ian and I weren't good for each other, but I had loved him for a very long time.
"Did you go to the doctor?" I asked and he shook his head. "Why is it happening?"
He shrugged. "The smoking," he ventured a guess.
I sighed. "You've been smoking again?" I asked.
Ian had a problem with smoking. He would smoke even though I despised it, but it was controlled for the past two years and now that I had no control, he had fallen back to his usual ways.
Ian shrugged, dismissively, like it wasn't his fault that he had been smoking.
"Why are you smoking?" I asked him, almost pleading, "You know it's bad for you. Please, just stop smoking, Ian."
He looked at me with a frown. "I don't need to listen to you anymore," he told me, coldly.
I inhaled sharply, a lump forming in my throat. Ian always became so cold and unfeeling when he was angry.
