Charlie bounced from foot to foot. Eliot looked over from his review of the Pritchard wedding, pausing in his notes about what worked and what needed a bit of improving—the bride’s mother notwithstanding since she was, hopefully, never going to be present again. “What has you so excited this morning? You’re nearly dancing.”

“A call came in yesterday about a new job. It sounds too good to be true—”

“It probably is. Who’s wedding?”

“Oh, not just a wedding, my dear Eliot, a whole year of events. I said—”

“For who?”

“—yes.”

Eliot blinked. Charlie blinked. Eliot set down his pen. The Pritchard wedding had gone off beautifully, but their last event had ended in a non-wedding and, if he didn’t get out of Bing’s house soon, he was considering killing someone. Carter, Darcy, and his own mother topped the list, but Eliot was willing to lengthen it as needed. “You already said yes? Without consulting me?”

Charlie quirked his head to the side. “I didn’t think it would be an issue. We’ve always talked about expanding beyond weddings and into event planning, and this client is ideal.”

Eliot stomped on his temper. It was true that they had talked about expanding, but Eliot had always been less sure about the idea than Charlie. They were a small, boutique company, and Eliot liked it that way. How could they honestly take on more projects without expanding staff? And more staff meant more expenses. They weren’t exactly drowning in spare cash, though they were doing significantly better than when they began working together—back when they’d made more money bartending than wedding planning.

The worst part of it all is that they’d always made big decisions together before this. That Charlie had gone ahead and made the decision without him felt… well, it was strong to say this, but it felt like a betrayal.

“Who’s the client?”

“She adored the Pritchard wedding. Raved about the trees. Just raved about them.”

“Who is it?”

But Charlie kept chattering about all the wonderful things their, in Eliot’s mind, still-potential client liked about the Pritchard wedding, repeating himself until a headache began to throb behind Eliot’s eyes.

Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose, weary of the conversation already. “Enough, Charlie. Who is it?”

The bell on their outer office door chimed merrily into the silence.

Charlie stood, clearly unsurprised at the interruption. “I agreed to meet with her personal assistant today to discuss the details.”

A set of overly cheerful eyes in a very round face peeked around the open doorway into the office area they shared. “Well hullo there,” the rather heavy set man announced as he showed himself all the way in. He rocked on his heels. “You must be Charlie.”

He extended a limp wrist to Charlie, giving Eliot the notion that the man actually expected Charlie to kiss the back of his hand. He almost shook his head to clear it of the thought, catching himself in time.

The man turned toward Eliot, his eyes running over him in an assessing manner. He took several steps closer to lean a hip against Eliot’s desk and say, in a demure voice, “And you must be Eliot. Ms. de Bourgh’s description of you did not capture your full stature.”

The name would have meant nothing to him a month ago. Now, after over a week in forced proximity to the deadly combo of Darcy and Carter, Eliot was overly-familiar with it. He swallowed tightly. Twice. While he fought to regain his voice. “Ms. de Bourgh?” Out of habit only, Eliot reached to shake the damp, chilled hand. Eliot made a point of discretely wiping his palm on the back of his thigh when the man spun to talk to Charlie.

“Oh my. You didn’t get the chance to tell him?” Not bothering to listen as Charlie tried to explain, he turned back to Eliot. Pursing his lips into a bow—which looked deciding unpleasant on the man by Eliot’s standards—he launched into speech. “Allow me to introduce myself.” He affected a flourished bow. “I am Mr. Collin Collins, Ms. de Bourgh’s personal assistant. Ms. de Bourgh, as you might be aware, is one of the most influential personages of the Slipton County social order.”

At this he blinked rapidly, unaware that his action caused Eliot the strange sensation of wanting to laugh while gagging. “It is a grand honor to be asked to plan any social event, even the lowest of teas, for Ms. de Bourgh.”

Collins continued to blink. Was he waiting for some kind of acknowledgement? Eliot pressed his lips into a smile at Charlie’s crazy-eyed urging, which Collins took as agreement.

“As such…”

Eliot narrowed his eyes at Charlie when Collin Collins, still in full speech, turned away. Charlie grinned and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Well, they’re rich. What do you expect?”

“…and now Ms. de Bourgh has chosen to honor you with what will be the biggest social event of the year, if not the decade, her wedding to Mr. Rupert Smilton.” Collin Collins twirled in a circle, his arms flinging up into the air as if he were throwing confetti.

Eliot’s mouth dropped open.

Charlie jumped forward, faintly holding Collins’s hand between both of his own. “Yes, Mr. Collins, we are fully aware that this is a momentous honor. We do need a few details before we can proceed, however. Have the couple decided on a date?” Charlie tried to guide the man to a seat, but he was as slippery as he was clammy.

Collins placed his free hand on top of Charlie’s but fixed his eyes over his shoulder and on Eliot. “My dear man, you will not believe it, but the wedding shall be soon. Ms. de Bourgh insists on an early fall event so that the leaves of the trees do not clash with her hair. Blondes are so very delicate, you know.” He blinked rapidly at Eliot, who fought not to gag, and not because of Ms. de Bourgh’s faux blonde hair.

Charlie pulled Collins forward toward the large white board that was affixed to the wall beside their desks. “We must begin at once then. A date so soon, and for a bride so fair.”

Collins nodded, happy to see that Charlie fully grasped the enormity of the situation. Eliot wasn’t sure whether he wanted to strangle Charlie, or kiss him for redirecting the exuberant Mr. Collin Collins.

“Has she selected a specific date?” Eliot asked, his face ducked behind the computer screen so it would appear that he was inspecting a calendar.

Collins drew such a long, loud sniff through his nose, it made Eliot jump. He leaned in toward Eliot, as if conveying a deep secret. “Ms. de Bourgh’s astrologist did a reading for her to find the most auspicious day. Ms. de Bourgh is a Gemini, you know. Weddings are particularly chaotic on their emotions, and so she absolutely must make sure everything is in its most encouraging alignment. And of course, where else could she be married than in The Sonora? Anyone who is anyone in the area is married there. And Ms. de Bourgh, of course, is someone.”

Collins settled back on his heels with a satisfied smile.

“And that date is…?” Eliot asked, trying to keep his irritation hidden.

Collins nodded. “The eighth of October.”

“What year?”

“Why, next year, of course.”

Eliot winced, not bothering to hide it. The Sonora was always booked out over two years in advance. Charlie spoke into the stillness. “Oh, that will be absolutely wonderful. The perfect setting for such a lovely bride.”

Collins nodded. “Yes. Indeed.” He sent a stern look at Eliot, who managed a weak smile. Charlie positioned himself so Collins’ back would face Eliot while they talked.

Typing on the computer, Eliot sent a message to Jane. See if there are any openings at The Sonora for October 8th, next year. If this thing was going to blow up in their faces, which he highly suspected it would, he might as well find out now.

Charlie asked about the types of flowers, the color scheme, and a myriad of other things, all wedding related. Eliot stood, leaning against his desk with a clipboard, and doodled when appropriate. Like every time Collins’ swiveled in his seat to direct a comment at him or if Charlie should nod. There was no way Charlie could actually be thinking of pursuing this client. Everything Collins mentioned was gaudy, hard to get, and overpriced.

The messenger on Eliot’s computer finally pinged with an answer. The answer Eliot had been dreading.

“This really isn’t the time to be texting, my dear Eliot,” Collins said. His eyes were fastened on his pudgy fingers but it was more than clear he was quite offended by Eliot’s continued distance.

Eliot bowed at the man, more in sarcasm than truth—not that Collins would recognize the action as it was intended, unlike Charlie, who did and scowled at him. “I am so very sorry Mr. Collins. I was merely asking our assistant to call The Sonora and book the date that you requested.”

Collins simpered. His fingers flew to his rounded mouth. “Oh, how very efficient of you.” He clapped his hands together twice and bounced on his seat. “I just knew when I saw you that you were the right one for this.”

What’s with the eye batting. Why does he keep doing that? Not that Eliot really cared that the man was almost flirting with him, and not with Charlie who would have truly appreciated it. The news Jane sent was bad. “There does appear to be a rather unfortunate issue. The Sonora is booked for that day and time. Would Ms. de Bourgh be willing to schedule a different day? Or perhaps consider a different venue? We have a large list of—”

A gasp of pure outrage issued from Collin Collins’s cosmetically enhanced lips. He leapt from his chair, face turning as purple-red as a plum. “I can not believe you would ask such a thing of Ms. de Bourgh. She is a woman of the highest tastes and expectations, and the date is simply non-negotiable. To suggest she compromise on the dearest day of her life is simply incomprehensible.”

Eliot stared at the man. Maybe this was their out. Surely Charlie could see how miserable working with Darcy’s mother would be. “I’m so sorry you see it that way. The Sonora does book out over a year in advance. It is quite hard to get a booking for anywhere in such a short time.”

With a consoling arm about the upset Collins, Charlie said, “But not impossible.” Collins’ hope filled eyes flew to Charlie, a new respect lighting in them, while Eliot’s filled with consternation. “Never impossible. I assume Ms. de Bourgh is willing to accept such trifles as rebooking fees for another party as part and parcel with having her needs met.”

Collins fisted his hand, pressed it once against his lips, then reached over to caress Charlie’s cheek. “Oh, my dear man, you do understand, as I do, the depth of Ms. de Bourgh’s wishes.”

Nodding, Charlie replied that he did indeed, a fact which made Eliot want to scowl, though not in front of the now utterly happy Mr. Collins. A man who, if Eliot missed his mark, was utterly incapable of doing much of anything except making the “esteemed” Ms. de Bourgh feel better about her terrible choices. According to him, the woman wanted her color palette to be mauve and topaz. Topaz wasn’t even a color! It was a gem, and came in several colors!

After an hour, Charlie steered Mr. Collins toward the office door. Thank you for your time, Mr. Collins. We must be ready to meet with Ms. de Bourgh—”

“Oh, yes, she will most definitely want to meet with you when she returns from France and hand pick the most perfect flowers and all the niceties that make a wedding so utterly perfect. She’s loving Paris, you know, and is simply inspired. Inspired!”

Charlie nodded. “Who wouldn’t be? Let’s figure out when we can schedule a face to face meeting.”

At the door, Collins gripped both of Charlie’s hands in his own. “You shall simply love her as I do.”

Eliot didn’t need to see Charlie’s face to know he was putting on his most sincere expression as he agreed. Collins sent Eliot a rather annoyed look, seemingly unappeased by Eliot’s cheery wave, and whispered something to Charlie. Whatever Charlie said in return, Collins left happy.

The bell of the door chimed at his exit. Charlie and Eliot were once more alone and, this time, neither was happy.

Eliot sank into his desk chair, hands raking through his hair. “I can’t even begin to believe that you want to work with that man.”

“I want the high profile that comes from working with him,” Charlie replied. “And more importantly, the woman he works for.”

Eliot looked up. “He’s worthless. You know that, right?”

Charlie’s face smoothed into a look of pure calculation, a look Eliot had always seen in service of their shared business goals. This may have been the first time they’d truly been at odds with each other.

“Shit. You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” Eliot leaned back into his chair, his hands hanging down the sides, not even feeling the energy to pull them up onto the arm rests.

“I want us to be the top wedding planners in the nation, Eliot.” Charlie was blunt. Charlie had always been blunt. He’d always been clear about what he wanted out of life. Eliot wanted to be rich too, but he’d always seen it as more of a pie in the sky kind of dream. Not something he would chase down with his entire being. “I want us to be international! I want to never worry about making rent, or whether I can afford a damn Starbucks. I want to have a waiting list a mile long. I want security. I want respect.” Charlie sat across from Eliot in his own desk. “Don’t you want those things too?”

Eliot shook his head. “I want to create beautiful weddings, Charlie. We’ve always worked well because you’re the money guy. And I appreciate that about you. Weddings require money, wedding planners require rent money. But this…”

“When we hit the top, you’ll be able to pick and choose the weddings you want to work on, Eliot! We’ll have clients with practically limitless budgets!”

Eliot’s computer pinged with another message, and he took the distraction. “Well, you’re going to have your work cut out for you with Collins and Ms. de Bourgh because The Sonora is booked by the Willinghams for their daughter’s wedding, The Sonora is not willing to risk upsetting them for Ms. de Bourgh.” A hook of cantankerous glee twisted within Eliot. People like Ms. de Bourgh thought the world revolved around them. It was always nice to see the world prove them wrong.

Charlie merely smiled, saying that he would take care of it.

“So we’re doing this?” Eliot said, the words stinging like salt on his tongue.

“This is it, Eliot. Our chance to take our business to the next level.” He leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees, his eyes bright with an eagerness Eliot rarely saw. “This business has always been your dream, Eliot. I’ve supported you, worked alongside you, and made it real. Will you help me with my dream?”

Eliot swallowed his worry for the moment and nodded. Charlie nodded in return, and with a sigh, Eliot set about preparing for the next day’s meeting with Ms. de Bourgh.