Chapter 2 - The Man with the green tie

Axel Winchester had negotiated multi-million-dollar contracts.

He had calmed furious CEOs.

He had survived boardroom battles that lasted longer than some marriages.

Yet nothing in his professional career had prepared him for the bottle-green tie currently strangling his neck.

He stared at himself in a decorative mirror near the ballroom entrance and sighed.

The tie was terrible.

Not subtly terrible.

Not "perhaps it will grow on me" terrible.

It was aggressively terrible.

The exact shade of green that demanded attention from every direction.

Dominic had called it elegant.

Dominic was wrong.

Very wrong.

Axel loosened the tie slightly before someone from the wedding staff immediately appeared.

"Please don't touch it."

Axel dropped his hand.

"Of course."

The woman walked away.

He looked at the mirror again.

The tie looked even worse.

"Fantastic."

A laugh reached his ears.

A familiar laugh.

Axel turned.

And immediately forgot about the tie.

Clara Ashford stood near the grand staircase.

For a moment, he genuinely struggled to recognize her.

Earlier she had looked beautiful.

Now she looked breathtaking.

Her dark hair had been swept into an elegant chignon that exposed the graceful line of her neck.

The satin bottle-green dress shimmered beneath the ballroom lights.

Small earrings caught the light every time she moved.

And somehow, despite wearing the exact color she claimed to despise, she looked stunning.

Dangerously stunning.

Axel quickly reminded himself to maintain a respectable image.

He was the best man.

Not a teenager with his first crush.

Professional.

Calm.

Normal.

Unfortunately, Clara chose that exact moment to look directly at him.

Their eyes met.

A smile tugged at her lips.

Then her gaze dropped to his tie.

"Oh no."

Axel groaned.

"What?"

"It's even worse under the ballroom lights."

Axel burst out laughing.

Finally.

Someone understood.

"Thank you."

"No, seriously."

She stepped closer.

"The color is attacking my eyes."

"The tie is attacking my dignity."

"The dress is attacking mine."

For a moment they simply looked at each other.

Then both started laughing.

Guests nearby turned to stare.

Neither cared.

It felt strangely nice finding someone who shared the same suffering.

Clara gestured toward herself.

"I look like a decorative plant."

Axel nodded.

"I look like a Christmas ornament."

"An expensive Christmas ornament."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Their laughter faded into comfortable silence.

The ballroom buzzed with activity around them.

Guests were finding their seats.

The string quartet had begun warming up.

The ceremony would start soon.

Very soon.

Too soon, apparently.

Because Axel wasn't ready for this conversation to end.

Clara tilted her head.

"Do you need a drink?"

Axel glanced toward the ballroom.

"The ceremony starts in five minutes."

"So?"

"So I probably shouldn't."

Clara folded her arms.

"You sound responsible."

"I am responsible."

"That's unfortunate."

Axel laughed.

"I'll survive."

Clara raised an eyebrow.

"What about soda?"

"No."

"Tea?"

"No."

"Champagne?"

"No."

She looked genuinely disappointed.

"What do you actually drink?"

Axel considered for a moment.

"Red wine."

A mischievous smile appeared on her face.

"See? That wasn't so difficult."

Before he could protest, she disappeared toward the refreshment area.

Axel watched her go.

There was something fascinating about Clara.

Confident.

Direct.

Completely unafraid to say exactly what she was thinking.

Most people filtered themselves.

Clara did not.

Five minutes later she returned carrying two glasses.

One held red wine.

The other held a martini.

Axel accepted the wine.

"You got yourself a martini?"

She sighed dramatically.

"If I don't drink something, every photograph from today will show me looking irritated."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Axel laughed.

"You can't hide it?"

"No."

"At all?"

"Not even a little."

She took a sip.

"My family says my face comes with subtitles."

Axel nearly choked on his wine.

"What?"

"It's true."

She pointed at herself.

"When I'm happy, everyone knows."

Another sip.

"When I'm angry, everyone knows."

Another sip.

"When I'm annoyed—"

"Everyone knows."

"Exactly."

Axel shook his head, laughing.

"I can actually see that."

"See?"

"The dress offended you and somehow your entire face filed a complaint."

Clara looked delighted.

"Finally. Someone understands."

For the first time all afternoon, Axel found himself relaxing.

Usually weddings involved endless small talk.

Questions about work.

Questions about relationships.

Questions from distant relatives whose names he couldn't remember.

But talking to Clara felt effortless.

As if they had skipped the awkward stage entirely.

She took another sip of her martini.

Then glanced at him.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight."

She blinked.

"Really?"

"Really."

A slow smile spread across her face.

"Oh."

Axel immediately recognized trouble.

"What?"

"I'm older."

"By how much?"

"One year."

Axel stared.

"One year."

"Yes."

"That's barely older."

Clara lifted her chin.

"I am twenty-nine."

"So?"

"So you should call me big sister."

Axel laughed so hard he almost spilled his wine.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"You must respect your elders."

"You are one year older."

"Age is age."

Axel shook his head.

"This is ridiculous."

Clara looked extremely pleased with herself.

"You can start practicing."

"Not happening."

"Sister Clara."

"No."

She laughed.

The sound was warm and genuine.

For a brief moment, Axel found himself staring.

Not at the dress.

Not at the hairstyle.

Not at the jewelry.

At her.

The woman herself.

And that was considerably more dangerous.

Because Clara didn't look twenty-nine.

If anything, she looked younger.

The combination of bright eyes, expressive features, and constant sarcasm made her seem far younger than her actual age.

But there was also something undeniably mature about her.

A quiet confidence.

The kind that came from knowing exactly who she was.

The kind that couldn't be faked.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.

Axel blinked.

Caught.

"Like what?"

"Like you're thinking."

"I am thinking."

"That's suspicious."

He laughed.

"Absolutely."

The ballroom doors opened.

A coordinator rushed toward them.

"There you are!"

Both turned.

The woman pointed dramatically toward the ceremony entrance.

"We start in two minutes."

Clara finished the last sip of her martini.

Axel emptied his wine.

Then they exchanged a glance.

The kind shared between two people reluctantly returning to reality.

"Ready?" Clara asked.

"Not for the tie."

She laughed.

"Fair."

The music began.

Guests settled into silence.

And as Axel offered Clara his arm, neither of them noticed the small shift that had already begun.

What started as mutual suffering over a terrible shade of green was slowly becoming something far more complicated.

Something neither of them was prepared to argue against.