Chapter 7: The Ghost of Stolen Kisses

Then, Zane kissed Sera.

Their lips met in a slow, intimate kiss. Zane fingers tightened around her waist and pulled her even closer to him. And the sounds they were making… I felt nauseous. The kiss wasn’t rushed or mechanical, and that was the final nail to the coffin of my past relationship with Zane.

As much as I hated to admit it, as much as I wanted to find flaws in their relationship, they kept proving me wrong. I wished it looked fake. I wished there was any hint of it being contractual. But Zane was into the kiss as much as Sera was. It was a stab wound straight to my heart. My eyes started to prick me.

I chastised myself. No, I wouldn’t cry. I definitely wouldn’t cry.

I stepped back quickly, my heart hammering in my ears. I didn’t notice the potted plant beside me, and my wedges hit the ceramic and make a loud noise. The couple pulled apart and turned to me.

My eyes locked with Sera’s. Her lips curved upwards in a small smirk.

“The wedding planner, right?” Sera asked, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“My apologies. I lost my way. You can carry on.”

I didn’t know why I apologized. God. I wanted the ground to open up for me to disappear.

“It’s fine,” Sera said. She turned to Zane. “Isn’t it, baby? It’s best that Ms. Ibe sees us having a natural romantic moment so that she knows how best to portray our relationship through the wedding.”

“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t trust myself to say anything else.

We stared at each other for a while. I could feel Zane’s eyes on me. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t.

Sera spoke up. “Do you mind excusing us? Me and my fiancè were… engaged in an activity before you interrupted us.”

I didn’t say anything in reply. Nodding, I spun on my heel and walked away. When I finally turned round the corner, I reclined on the wall and took a deep breath.

And another.

And another.

##

I had a rough night. With the image of Zane and Sera replaying in my head like a broken recorder, I could barely sleep. The next morning, I was determined to throw myself into work. As much as it felt like treading on needles everyday, I needed the money. Just about five weeks and I wouldn’t have to see them anymore.

The main ballroom was already being prepared for the wedding. However, I had alternative recommendations. I preferred the rooftop garden. It was more private, more intimate, yet just as luxurious and beautiful looking as the main ballroom. I was sure Zane would prefer it too.

So, I presented the offer to Mr. Wade with an overly cheerful smile. Before I got the words out, he scoffed.

“Too risky,” he snarled. “Too open. The couple won’t like it. Stick to the main hall. This isn’t a picnic.”

“True,” I said, a bit stung at his tone. “It’s not a picnic. It’s a wedding. Rooftop gardens are a dream for weddings. And this one is more than an open space. It has wedding covers, elevator access, and half the cost of transforming the ballroom. Contrary to your opinion, Mr. Wade, the couple would love it.”

Mr. Wade sneered. “Ms. Ibe, I have managed Mr. Blackwood’s affairs for years.”

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. He may be good at his job, but I’m also good at mine. I appreciated his input, but I was a wedding planner for a reason. “We’re talking about the live Mr. Blackwood, not the dead one. Just because you knew his father in and out doesn’t mean you know Zane.”

“And whar do you know about ‘Zane'? Kindly defer to those who know the family’s preferences.”

My jaw clenched. “Then perhaps Mr. Blackwood should speak for himself.”

On cue, Zane stepped into the room. He was wearing all black and his hair was neatly combed. In with him came a presence, like he owned gravity. He looked at me then Mr. Wade then me.

“What’s the problem?” Zane asked, his voice low.

“Ms. Ibe wants to drag your ceremony to the jungle upstairs.”

Zane kept his eyes on me. “Let her. If she says the garden is the best, then it’s the best.”

“But-" countered Mr. Wade

“Let her,” Zane repeated.

I was stunned. Not just because he defended me, but because of the way he said it. Almost as if I still mattered to him. As if he still trusted my judgement.

Putting on a sweet smile, I turned to Zane. “Mr. Blackwood, we were also finalizing floral arrangements.”

Zane tilted his head slightly. “Sounds exciting.”

Mr. Wade sneered at me. “You suggested white orchids for the centerpieces?”

“They represent elegance and rare beauty. The more minimal the design is, the better. It will complement the theme of the wedding.”

“Too sterile,” Mr. Wade sniffed.

“The bride specifically asked for them,” I added. I looked at Zane. He was strangely silent, eyes darting between me and Mr. Wade. “Mr. Blackwood?”

Zane studied me for a while. “Surprise me,” he finally said.

My heart jumped. His gaze caused goosebumps to appear on my skin. “Very well.”

“I must reiterate,” Mr. Wade started, “that the evening ambiance needs-"

Zane cut him off. “Mr. Wade, I hired Ms. ibe for a reason. If I wanted someone to micromanage her, I would’ve hired you.”

Mr. Wade opened his mouth, but seeing the firm look on Zane’s face, he quickly shut it. Nodding, he took a step back.

My heart was jumping with glee. “Anything else?” I asked Zane.

He shook his head slightly, eyes still on me. “You have everything under control.”

I knew it was a small win, but I did feel good. Later on, it unsettled me a bit. Zane didn’t remember me, yet he defended me. Was it just business? Was that him being kind to a near stranger? Was there something more? It didn’t seem like. Not when his eyes lingered on me like that. Not when his voice sounded like that.