***Take this as fair warning, this is all adult content. If you don't like it just walk away***
Let's try this again, new and improved version of DLS. This is my old collection of one shots. All the old stuff is being edited by myself to make some i...
My event planning business is in its infancy stage, but I got lucky enough to have caught the attention of several high-profile clients in Hollywood. Word spreads fast, and needless to say business is good. I don't have anything to complain about. However, I'm running around like a mad woman trying to ensure everything is perfect for the wedding I'm coordinating.
I haven't slept in days but that's common for me on weeks we have a celebrity event. Today is the wedding of a couple who is actually laid-back which helps a lot. But I don't have a laid-back mode when it comes to work, so I'm spinning like a top. Coordinating weddings like this, not only do you have to impress the couple and their family, but hundreds of celebrity guests which is rather intimidating. It's a little high society for my taste but this is my job, I'm good at it and it pays very well.
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The wedding ceremony carried on without incident. It was beautiful, the flowers matched perfectly with the bridesmaid dresses and the ties of the groomsmen. The reception is outside under a large canopy. There's a dance floor, two bars, the canopy is strung with fairy lights, lilacs, and lily of the valley. Most importantly, the location is secluded and tucked up in the hills to prevent paparazzi from peeping in.
I'm on a ladder adjusting some of the lights cursing under my breath trying to make them look perfect.
"Shit, these stupid fucking lights. There's got to be an easier way to do this."
"Excuse me, but do you always talk to yourself like that?"
I'm alarmed by the smooth British accent who snuck up behind me. I slip off the ladder and pray that I don't end up breaking something. Thank god two capable hands catch me as I'm falling.
"Whoa, are you okay I didn't mean to startle you."
This could end badly for me. I'm a fool for a man with a British accent and now he's added rescuing a damsel in distress to his repertoire, so I'm officially mush. Maybe he's ugly, that would be really helpful, but I seriously doubt that's the case.
I bravely look up into the eyes of my hero of the day. Shit, I'm screwed! It's Harry Styles, and he's wearing a black open chested shirt which places his tattoo laiden chest and cross necklace right in my sightline. Black shirt, black scarf, black pants, black chelsea boots, black shades and a black fedora. He could ask me to kiss his feet right now and I would do it. I'm completely at his mercy.
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"Up you go young lady."
He's giggling at my awkwardness and smiles so deeply that his dimples are on full display.
I bite my lip trying desperately not to say something stupid or childish. I'm a professional who's never been star struck, but I'm on a different playing field with this guy.
"Oh wow, I'm so sorry. I really..."
He places the index finger of his left hand over my lips to hush me. One of his other fingers is proudly displaying a beautiful rose ring which is paradoxically very masculine. My eyes are drawn to it immediately.
