Page 12 of White Wedding
“I’m on my way to pick up Missy for Chip’s party. So, make it quick.”
His dismissive tone made her flare up in anger. “Nice attitude. You don’t have to treat me like I’m one of your employees.”
“Right now, youareone of my employees. In fact, I’m your most important client, which means I don’t appreciate you wasting my time. If this is one of your pathetic attempts to win me back, it’s not going to work.”
She winced as she remembered the shameful way she’d called him a few days after he left her. Having consumed far too many cocktails, she’d drunk-dialed him and begged him to reconsider his decision. But she’d only done itonce.
“I’m just doing my job,” she said. “In the meantime, you could be less of an asshole. Considering I spent almost a year as your fiancée, you’ve got no right to act like I’m beneath you.”
For a moment, he said nothing. But when he spoke again, his voice was more weary than hostile. “Sorry. I’m under a lot of stress. This…pregnancy hasn’t been easy for either of us.”
Not for the first time, she wondered how he felt about impending fatherhood. He’d once told her, back when they were engaged, that he wanted to wait to have children—at least until he got his political career off the ground.
If he was going to be civil, then she could respond in kind. “Sorry it’s been so hard. I won’t keep you. I wanted to know if you picked a caterer. If you haven’t decided yet, then—”
“Missy wants to use Tres Hermanos.”
His answer caught her by surprise. Why hadn’t they chosen Artful Parties? Even if they’d been underwhelmed by the food, it was more in keeping with Ben’s tastes.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “She threw up at the tasting.”
“She does that a lot. Morning sickness or whatever. But she loved the food. She wouldn’t stop talking about it.”
“But you thought it was too spicy.”
“It’s what she wants, so I’m not about to disappoint her.”
Unusual, given that he liked being in charge. When Victoria was with him, she’d found it easier to go along with his decisions than challenge him. But maybe he was so smitten with Missy that he didn’t feel the need to control every aspect of their relationship.
“Can you call that Ramón guy and let him know we’re going with his company?” Ben asked. “And tell him to tone down the spice.”
Great.She could only imagine how he’d react. “Rafael. His name is Rafael.”
“Right. Whatever. So, can you call him? Then it’ll be settled.” He gave a smug laugh. “I mean, it’s not like you have anything else going on tonight, right?”
She tightened her grip on the phone. How so like Ben to weaken her defenses, then dig the knife in when she least expected it. She could have lied and told him she had other plans—something to rival Chip’s party—but she didn’t want to spend another second talking to him.
“Will do. Have a good night.” She hung up quickly.
Before doing anything else, she finished all the popcorn, dredging the last few pieces in melted butter. She licked her lips, enjoying the salty, buttery goodness. She’d need to run an extra mile tomorrow, but popcorn was always worth it. One of her few guilty pleasures.
Girding herself for the task ahead, she set the empty bowl aside. She could easily call the catering company’s main number and leave a message, but she’d only be postponing the inevitable. She wiped her hands on her leggings and scrolled through her phone until she found Rafael’s number. Maybe she’d luck out and get his voicemail. Then she’d be spared the agony of speaking to him in person.
A perky female voice answered. “Hello, you’ve reached the offices of Señor Rafael Sanchez, celebrity chef extraordinaire. How may I help you?”
Victoria stared at the phone. Rafael couldn’t possibly have a personal assistant. If anything, the voice belonged to a friend. Or—more likely—a girlfriend. Someone as hot as him wouldn’t lack for female companionship. The thought annoyed her more than it should have.
“Hello?” the woman said. “Is anyone there?”
“I…I’m looking for Rafael. This is Victoria Blackwood.”
“Oh. Hang on.”
She heard a giggle, followed by a muffled aside. “It’sher.”
Victoria rubbed her forehead. She needed a drink, stat. The one good thing about being a Blackwood was that she never ran out of wine.
“Hello, Victoria.” Rafael’s voice was smooth, betraying none of the anger he’d shown earlier.
