‘Organising this wedding has been the most time I’ve ever spent with her.’ Laurel didn’t add thankfully but Eloise could hear it in her voice.
‘She was...’ Cruel. Evil. Nightmarish. A total witch in a blonde wig. ‘She liked to be the centre of attention,’ Eloise said, conscious that Laurel was Melissa’s sister, despite everything. She’d only met Laurel at the start of the wedding planning, six months ago, and most of their conversations so far had been wedding-related—with the occasional frustrated eye-roll and knowing glance when Melissa video-called in from LA with another hundred demands. But since Laurel had arrived at Morwen Hall the day before to set up for the wedding, Eloise had found it hard to believe that she and Melissa had even one parent in common, they were so different.
They had the same ambition, though. While Melissa had channelled hers into stardom, Laurel had taken a quieter route—setting up her own wedding planning company that was just starting to be featured in bridal magazines and websites. Of the two paths, Eloise felt strangely more envious of Laurel’s than Melissa’s. Eloise had never wanted to be a star, not really. But her own business... She shook her head. She had a good job at Morwen Hall. One she didn’t plan to jeopardise by daydreaming.
‘The centre of attention. I can believe that,’ Laurel said with feeling. ‘I guess maybe she feels she missed out on that, growing up. I mean, with our father staying with my mum instead of hers for so long.’
‘Perhaps,’ Eloise allowed. ‘But I reckon she made up for it by stealing all my boyfriends.’ She slapped her hand across her mouth as the words came out, but Laurel just laughed.
‘All of them? How many did you have?’
‘Two,’ Eloise said mournfully. ‘At different times, obviously. And, on both occasions, your sister managed to convince them that they’d be better off with someone else. Usually her.’ It hadn’t been too hard either. Growing up in the same town, going to the same school and working at the same hotel meant that Melissa had known all of Eloise’s secrets. She’d known every embarrassing story to tell about her family, and which ones to pick for maximum effect.
And she’d had more than enough to choose from.
‘Well, at least you won’t have to worry about her doing that this time,’ Laurel said.
‘Well, no,’ Eloise agreed. ‘Since I don’t have a boyfriend.’ And hadn’t had one for quite a while, actually, not that she was counting days. She’d rather wait and find the right one than try out any guy who came calling.
Not that she’d had any significant success since leaving school. In fact, the boyfriends Melissa had lured away might be considered the highlights of her dating career. Certainly a lot better than the one who’d left her for her mother. Or the guy at university who’d managed to screw her over both personally and professionally.
Maybe she just wasn’t born to date. Heaven knew her mother had done enough dating for the both of them.
Laurel rolled her eyes. ‘I meant I really think she’s properly in love with Riley.’
Eloise found it hard to imagine Melissa loving anybody besides herself, but then maybe she’d changed. Organising weddings didn’t tend to bring out the best in people. Maybe most of the time she was a total sweetheart.
Actually, no. That was even harder to imagine.
Still... ‘I hope so,’ Eloise said. ‘I hope she’s truly happy.’
Because the happier Melissa was, the better the chances of the wedding going off without a hitch, Melissa and Riley riding off into the sunset together and Eloise never having to see either of them again.
‘Me too,’ Laurel said. ‘If only so I never have to organise another wedding for her. I mean, I know this is a huge coup for my new business and everything, but still...’
Eloise laughed, ignoring the pang of envy she felt at the excitement in Laurel’s voice when she talked about her company. ‘At least being the wedding planner means you got out of having to be maid of honour. I mean, have you seen those dresses she picked?’
Laurel pulled a face, probably feeling slightly queasy at the memory of the miles of icy blue-green satin and chiffon that had been sacrificed to make the bridesmaids and maid of honour dresses. ‘Actually, it was never even suggested. I think Melissa was pretty set on having Cassidy Haven as maid of honour from the start. The celeb factor, you know.’
‘You’re probably right,’ Eloise agreed. As far as she knew, Melissa and Cassidy’s acquaintance went back to approximately one film, in which they had two scenes together. But, given Cassidy’s rising star and box office gold reputation, that would be enough for Melissa.
A crunching noise echoed from the end of the driveway, getting closer. The sound of tyres on frozen ground, Eloise knew from experience. ‘They’re here,’ she said, and Laurel raised her eyebrows with surprise.
‘They are? Where?’
‘Just coming around the bend.’ At her words, the large black four-by-four appeared from the tree cover and Eloise pasted on her smile. Time to start the show.
Laurel straightened her skirt and her shoulders, trying to pull herself up to her full height, Eloise supposed, although Eloise still had a full head and shoulders on her. She usually did with most people.
The four-by-four slowed to a halt in front of Morwen Hall and the driver stepped out to open the rear door. Eloise was vaguely aware of the passenger door opening too, but her gaze was firmly fixed on the blonde stepping out of the back seat, knees together, a picture of English elegance. Her light hair was fixed perfectly back from her beautiful face, her pale pink lipstick unsmudged. She hadn’t even spilt any coffee on her snowy white jumper—cashmere, Eloise was sure—and white trousers.
Maybe celebrities really were another species. No human should look that good after an eleven-hour flight.
Eloise recognised Riley Black from the engagement photos and the occasional video call he joined them for during the wedding planning. He smiled up at them as he came around from the other side of the car to take his fiancée’s arm. Laurel moved down a few steps to greet them and Eloise finally turned her attention to the fourth occupant of the car.
And promptly lost the ability to breathe.
* * *
Noah Cross had learned fairly early in his career how to tune out the meaningless chatter that came with the job but still pay just enough attention to assure whoever was talking that he was listening to them. The skill had served him well on movie sets across the world, in press junkets and at awards ceremonies.
Until he’d met Melissa Sommers.
The whole flight from LA he’d been trying to read a new script his agent, Tessa, had sent him, to ‘keep you too busy at this damn wedding to get into any trouble’, as she’d put it. Normally, he’d have tossed the script in his suitcase, relaxed with a drink on the flight and looked forward to seducing a bridesmaid or two, just to keep in practice. But this script was from a writer he admired, one he’d dreamt of working with for too long now—Queenie Walters. Her films were renowned for being deep, thought-provoking, meaningful—and for winning every award going. Basically, the opposite of the sort of films he’d been making for the last seven years.
The
