It's all about the color

"So, would you like some coffee?" asked Veronica, the wedding planner, who had already looked like she had overdosed on caffeine.

"Yes, please," I said, yet secretly I was dreaming of something with alcohol.

"Black or white?" She tossed while gesturing to the waiter.

"Flat white," I replied, pulling out my phone. While Veronica was busy placing our orders, I texted Aren, "You'd better show up here. I cannot make those decisions on my own."

I kept cursing him inwardly. I was new to this world of the richest, and I felt lost. I had no idea how it all worked, what was appropriate, and what was not.

Aren texted back, "I'll join you in an hour. In the meantime, Veronica will lead you through it. You can do it. I trust you."

The inner heat that appeared within me after I read those last three words wiped the frown off my face. As I exhaled, the annoyance disappeared. My heart started to pound, but at a different beat. Could I really do it? Was I capable of playing the role of Aren Lan's per