Semua Bab The Wrong Brother, The Right Mistake: Bab 21 - Bab 30

Thursday afternoon, I walked into the tasting room of Aurora’s preferred premium caterer with every intention of becoming an elegant block of ice.Not regular ice, obviously. Not some depressing little cube fighting for its life in a gas-station soda.I was talking five-star-hotel ice. Perfectly cut, aesthetically cold, unnecessarily expensive, and pretty enough to make people forget that, at the end of the day, it was still an inanimate object.It was the goal today.After Zachary Bandini showed up at my office without warning, carrying legal documents like an official excuse and infecting the Vale-Bandini project calendar like an expensive virus in Italian shoes, I had made a very mature, very healthy, and very doomed decision: all interactions with him were to be treated like an allergy.Identified, avoided, and absolutely not touched.And because my day wasn’t annoying enough... my allergy was already sitting in the tasting room when I walked in.Oh, fuck.The room was on the seco

“Just appetizers?” Aurora repeated, looking at the lineup of small plates on the table. “Oh, God. Have you guys already eaten all the good stuff?”“Not yet,” I said. “We saved the expensive stuff for you.”“Good. I appreciate financial discrimination when it works in my favor.”She laughed as she pulled out the chair beside Zach, but she was only halfway into her seat when her mother’s voice came through the phone again.“Aurora, the back of your skirt.”“Mom, I’m already at the restaurant.”“That’s not an answer.”Aurora closed her eyes for a moment, then lifted her phone and turned the camera toward the back of her chair. “See? Nothing’s caught. I still have a skirt. We made it.”“Fine. But don’t eat anything that could stain the silk,” her mother said through the speaker.I looked at the tasting menu in front of me. “We’ll avoid sauces with personal agendas.”“Thank you, Aubrey. At least someone understands.”Aurora lowered her phone with a resigned expression. “I’ll call you later

Laurent arrived with the next course before I could develop that thought into something unprofessional.Thank God.The tasting finally found its own rhythm.Aurora started genuinely enjoying the food, asking about sauces, requesting that one course be brought back because she wanted to compare the textures, then sending photos of the plating to her mother with instructions not to reply until we were finished.Zach occasionally offered useful opinions, especially about portion sizes and service timing, while I steered the conversation back toward things that could go into a proposal without requiring couples counseling.For a little while, we even looked like three adults planning a wedding.Very convincing.“If we have to keep three passed bites,” Laurent asked after the last course had been cleared, “which ones do you think are the strongest?”I opened my shortlist. “Beef Wellington stays. Mushroom tartlet after the revisions. For the third option, I still want to compare the gnudi w

A few days later, I left Manhattan before eight in the morning to do something that should have been painfully boring.Security walkthrough.No flowers. No cake. No mother of the bride with opinions about spiritual lighting. Just perimeter checks, vehicle routes, emergency access, service entrances, media positions, and several men in black being paid very well to imagine every possible way someone else could ruin a party.In other words, safe territory.The private estate on our shortlist was almost two hours from Manhattan, hidden behind a long road in the Hudson Valley with old trees lining both sides and an iron fence that started appearing about a mile before the main house. The property was too large to call a house without insulting the middle class. A pale stone mansion stood above a wide lawn that sloped gently toward the river, complete with a terrace, guesthouse, glass conservatory, private dock, and a circular driveway that, according to the brochure, could accommodate for

“I know.”I looked over the area, the wind direction, the distance from the main house, then the narrow driveway connecting it to the estate. “We’re not allowing any landings after guest arrival starts.”Marcus nodded.“And no helicopter traffic during the ceremony or outdoor cocktails. I don’t want Aurora walking down the aisle while one of her father’s friends descends from the sky like a Bond villain.”“Some guests really don’t like traffic.” Zach slipped one hand into his coat pocket.“Some guests consider Manhattan traffic a working-class problem.”“You say that like it’s not true.”I looked at him. “You came here by car.”“Because I’m trying to be relatable.”“It’s not working.”Miles laughed under his breath without stopping his typing.I turned back to Marcus. “If there’s a VIP who absolutely has to arrive by air, final landing is forty-five minutes before guest arrival at the latest. After that, airspace restriction. Emergency medevac is the obvious exception.”“Agreed.”The