Page 2 of White Wedding
The irony continued to smack her in the face each and every day. Before Missy had stepped in, Victoria was engaged to Ben and in the midst of planning her own wedding.
She’d first met him at a charity ball, where he’d won her over with his polished charm. When he proposed a year later, she accepted without hesitation. As the oldest son of Senator Frank Macalister, he easily met her father’s approval. Not only was her father in favor of the match, he told Victoria if she married Ben, she’d earn her Get-Out-Of-Debt-Free card.
But six months before their wedding, Ben cheated on her with Missy Cavendish, an old flame who’d moved back into town. Though he apologized and promised to mend his ways, Victoria only took him back after her father pressured her into it. A terrible mistake, since Ben broke off their engagement three months later and confessed he was still in love with Missy. And since she was pregnant, they needed to get married as soon as possible.
Finding a venue to host their two-hundred-person extravaganza was no easy feat, given that Missy wanted an elaborate, Christmas-themed wedding. So, Ben—being the dick he was—asked if he and his new bride-to-be could use the same date, the same venue, the sameeverythingthat he and Victoria had originally planned fortheirChristmas wedding.
Victoria wanted nothing to do with it. He wasn’t getting married on her home turf. And she wasn’t lifting a finger to help him. But instead of supporting his only daughter, her father kissed up to Senator Macalister’s son and said, “Of course you can have your wedding at Blackwood Manor. Victoria will be happy to arrange it.”
There was no coming back from that.
A flicker of remorse crossed her father’s face. Like he was sorry he’d put her in such an excruciating position. But the moment passed. He set down his cigar in a glass ashtray. “Have you lined up any other caterers?”
“Actually, I have.” She glanced at the antique grandfather clock beside his desk, bought at auction, worth thousands. Pretentious as hell. “I should get going because I have an interview with one of them in a few minutes.”
And if I spend another second talking to you, I’m going to throw that stinking cigar in the trash.
“That was quick,” he said. “I’m surprised you got anyone with the holiday season in full swing.”
“It wasn’t easy.” After her conversation with Heather, Victoria had gone through her roster of caterers, to no avail. She’d almost bottomed out when she got a yes.
“Who are you interviewing?”
“Martin Sanchez. From Tres Hermanos.”
“The Mexican place in Escondido? You think Ben’s family will approve? You can’t just serve tacos and call it a day.”
She gritted her teeth. “Tres Hermanos is one of the best Mexican restaurants in San Diego County. I’ve heard nothing but good things about their catering company.”
She’d already called a couple of their clients, who’d given rave reviews.
Her father grunted. “Wouldn’t be my first choice. Or my second. But I guess you’re out of options, aren’t you?”
“I guess so. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way. I don’t want to be late.” She stood and left her father’s office.
One day, she’d be free. Then she could work for whomever she damn well pleased. Date whomever she wanted. Take back her life.
But today was not that day.
* * *
Rafael Sanchez checkedthe boardroom for a thermostat. One he could adjust, preferably ten degrees lower, because he’d worked up a sweat. The room was far too oppressive with its massive cherrywood table, dark leather chairs, and heavy, crimson drapes. Along one wall, a series of black-and-white photos depicted the early days of Blackwood Cellars, back when it was a humble winery in the Temecula Valley rather than a multimillion-dollar company.
He wiped his forehead and wished, for the tenth time, that one of his older brothers—either Martin or Tony—was here instead of him. Both had far more experience managing high-end catering gigs than he did. Though he’d joined them on dozens of jobs, he’d never overseen an event of this magnitude.
But there weren’t any other options. Both his brothers were unavailable.
“You can do it,” Martin had said. “Turn on that lady-killer charm and you’ll win over Victoria Blackwood.”
“But not too much charm,” Tony said. “Keep it professional.”
“And keep it in your pants,” Martin added.
They needed to stop with the lady-killer shit. Sure, he’d gone through a wild phase when he was younger, but he was over that now. If he wanted to prove himself to his older brothers, he had to seize his chance. Win Victoria Blackwood over. Secure the contract. And deliver an amazing wedding banquet, Sanchez-style.
“If you can pull this off, the word of mouth would be fabulous,” Martin said. “Got it?”
He did. Blackwood Cellars had hosted a lot of high-profile events at their spacious estate, but they’d never called on Tres Hermanos before. Getting in good with them could be huge. Which was why Martin had suggested an in-person meeting rather than a phone interview.
