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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Two weeks later, there were still odd times when I would replay the moments that Rosalie and I had shared in the tailors' shop. I didn't remember a time that I had had such innocent fun with a woman before that.
The sound of her laugh still echoed in my brain.
It wasn't welcome.
I didn't want to be thinking of a wedding planner in a romantic way when she was planning my wedding to someone else.
I felt like a schoolboy, craving for something just because it's what he couldn't have. Or at least, that's what I told myself.
When Caroline was driving me insane about something, my mind would sometimes tell me that Rosalie would never do the same and I'd have to immediately battle my mind and chastise myself for thinking of her like that.
Two weeks later, Caroline still had the uncanny knack of pushing me to the edge and not in a good way. Sometimes, I wanted to throttle her and her Prada bags, Gucci belts and Jimmy Choo shoes.
The work day was drawing to a close and I had had enough of looking at the faces of all of these businessmen who had almost no soul and even less of a personality.
I eyed Ian among the crowd, trying to find hints of sadness after breaking up with Rosalie, but he showed no emotion. I didn't know whether I should be disgusted by his lack of emotion or impressed by his work ethic. In the end, I decided that I didn't need to have an opinion.
I closed the document we had been going through and got up from my chair.
"I think that's enough for today, everyone," I said, buttoning my suit coat.
Everyone nodded and got up, spreading around the room to do their own thing. I patted Arthur on the back and exited the room.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Molly," I told my assistant and she smiled at me.
"You have a good night, Aiden," she told me.
She had watched me grow up, working for my father since she was young and since I was a boy. I adored her.
My shoulders didn't relax until I had made my way into my apartment. I could feel the tensions and the exhaustion of the day leave my body as I felt at home.
"Mr. Carlisle, I have made dinner for you," my housekeeper told me, as I walked past the kitchen, "It's Monday, which means you have grilled chicken with vegetables and rice. I added a bit of extra sauce to the vegetables to make them taste good, okay?"
I stopped in my tracks and smiled at her. "Thank you, Carmelina," I said, "You're keeping me healthy. You can head home now."
She gave me grateful smile. "Okay, your food is in the oven, okay?"
"Okay," I nodded, "You have a good night."
She disappeared into her quarters and I walked over to my living room. I took off my watch and shoes and I discarded my suit coat on the sofa, walking over to the piano.
