The Wedding Contract

by H. M. Ward

  “Over my dead body.”

  CHAPTER 6

  I shove past him and make a beeline for the elevator. Nick follows after me with his gear bag still on his shoulder and an aggravating smile across that sexy face. I’m starting to appreciate why Mrs. Getty hired him. The guy is eye candy from head to toe.

  There’s an awkward moment when we both step into the elevator and I notice that I ran out of the room wearing a rather transparent shower curtain. It was better than being naked, but not by much. Nick presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh. Asshole.

  The bell chimes and the doors open. I haul my butt across the room and shove to the front of the line at the reception desk. Spawny is still there and her eyes widen when she sees me. I slam my hand on the counter, jab my thumb back at Nick and say, “Did you seriously give a strange man a key to my room?”

  “He said he was the photographer.” She doesn’t blink.

  “I’M THE PHOTOGRAPHER!”

  Nick is standing there behind me, and turns his charm up to levels that only magical creatures can manage, before bursting into glitter. “I think there’s been a mix up and I’m happy to purchase another room.” He puts his key card on the counter and flashes a dazzling white smile at Spawny.

  The wicked witch visibly shudders and taps her computer keys, before looking up apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir, but there aren’t any other rooms available.”

  Nick’s voice tightens. “None?”

  She shakes her frizzy red mane. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  He looks back at me. “We’ll just have to share. Thank-you, Miss. Your service is wonderful. If I can fill out a comment card, just let me know.” He winks at her and leaves.

  WTF? That did not just happen. Spawny has a girlish smile on her evil face and her gaze follows after Nick. She totally ignores me for a second, then turns and shoots imaginary lava out of her eyeballs until I leave.

  As I clatter across the wooden lobby floors, I hear a familiar voice. “Skylar Thompson! Is that you?”

  I turn and smile at my friend. “Sophie Soon-to-be-Stevens!” I give her a little hug and then she points at my outfit.

  “Uh, dinner is casual, but I think we might need to define that a little bit better. I’d hoped you’d be wearing some clothes.” Sophie looks good. Her skin has that sun-kissed look that goes with her olive complexion and rosy cheeks. The lavender dress she’s wearing has a form-fitting bodice and flares right above the knee. She looks perfect.

  And I’m wearing a shower curtain. Good God, I hope my mother isn’t here yet.

  “Ha ha.” I don’t want to dump extra stuff on her, but I have to tell her. “Did you know Steven’s Dad hired another photographer?”

  Her smile falters. “Oh crap.” She sighs and pushes her hair out of her face, looking around the room as she does it. People are everywhere, hugging, saying hellos. Someone calls to Sophie and she waves back. “I was afraid he’d do that. I told him my friend was shooting the wedding and he said he wanted a professional. I told him that you were a professional, but I guess he didn’t believe me. He kept talking about his friend’s daughter’s wedding and green pictures. I don’t know exactly what happened, but he kept saying he didn’t want that to happen at our wedding. Is it a problem?” Worry pinches her pretty little face and I feel like a jerk for saying anything.

  Smiling at her, I shake my head. “No. I’ll work it out.”

  “Good, because I’m not letting someone else do the bridal boudoir pictures of me in sexy poses—especially not some old guy with a camera.” She shivers like it’d be creepy.

  “I’ll still do everything we agreed on. Don’t worry about it, Sophie. We’ll work it out. Just enjoy yourself.”

  She grins at me and looks through the sea of people, spying Steven. Her smile broadens as her ribcage fills with air. “I can’t believe it’s finally here.” She squees and skips away, still Sophie after all these years.

  For a second, I stand there watching the two of them together. That’s when I hear her voice over my shoulder.

  “What on earth are you wearing? Really, Skylar, I brought you up better than this!”

  Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I turn on my heel. “Hello, Mother.”

  “I really think you should talk to Dr. Norman about medication dear.”

  Oh, screw it. My eyes roll up and I push two fingers to my temple, attempting to ease the sudden pain. “We’ve been through this, Mom. I’m not crazy.”

  “Well, did you get locked out of your room?”

  “No.” Her perfect eyebrow lifts and she taps one shiny red patent leather shoe on the floor. I smile serenely and pull at the curtain. “This is my dinner dress.”

  She thinks I’m serious. “Well, go change. You can’t wear that monstrosity. Sophie will be horrified.”

  “Sophie already saw me, Ma.”

  “Well, then she’s much too kind. You look insane. Go change.” She turns away from me and greets a stranger with more warmth than she just gave me.

  Working my jaw, I pad across the polished floor to the elevator and shoot laser beams from my eyes at the doors, willing them to open.

  The couple next to me looks seriously worried, so I glance over at them and smile. “Hey.” I nod, like I’m normal. “What’s up?”

  The woman is older than me, maybe fortyish, and tries to smile politely, but I think I broke her face, because it twitches. The guy she’s with acts like I’m the poster child for normal. Ha. He should inform my mother, because she’s probably in the chapel looking for holy water.

  The doors open and we all walk in. I turn and press the button for my floor. Looking up, I see my mother across the room and a horrified expression clouds her normally placid face. I wave the tips of my fingers and smile as the doors shut.

  This week is going to suck.

  CHAPTER 7

  I don’t have my key card. I left it with Spawny downstairs. Super suck. When I get to my door, I knock. I know he’s in there. Nick disappeared from the lobby way before me and I would have seen him through the massive amount of floor-to-ceiling glass windows downstairs.

  A second later, he pulls the door open. Nick has his cell phone pressed to his ear. “Are you sure? Nothing? All right, thank you so much.” How does he do that? It always sounds like he’s so nice, but the man is a snake. He destroys everything he touches, like one of those demigods in Amy’s stories.

  Nick runs his hand through his dark hair and tosses the phone on the bed next to my bags. “Well, it looks like we’re roomies. Every other place on the island is booked solid and no one has an extra room. So much for small town life, huh?”

  My jaw opens and I make a repulsive face without thinking. “You are not staying with me.”

  “Yeah, I think the sentence you’re looking for is, ‘thank you for not throwing me out on my ass.’” His eyes dip to my butt. The shower curtain clings tightly and I’m pretty sure I have a wedgie. I’m losing it. My lower left eyelid twitches and the more I try to steady it, the worse it gets. Nick sits on the bed and lays back. Staring at the ceiling, he asks, “Your head isn’t going to spin in circles is it? If so, let me know and I’ll sit up and watch.”

  Every muscle in my body is corded tight. The mental strings that tie this hot mess together are coming undone and all I can manage to do is stand here mashing my lips together. When I finally speak, my body is vibrating with DEFCON 5 cray-cray. “I hate you.” Holy understatement, Batman.

  “Really?” He has the audacity to sound surprised. Nick lifts his head and looks at me with that stupid smile on his face.

  “Yes, really! You’re destroying my business and ruining my life! What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you get hit by lightning or something? God knows you deserve it.”

  He shrugs and lies back down. “He can’t smite something this awesome. Besides, then who would be left to ruin your life?”

  “Don’t mock me. We both know what you’re doing. Don’t pretend to b
e stupid and charming with me. It won’t work.”

  “What if I just opt for charming?”

  “Asshole.”

  “I call dibs on the bed, by the way,” he says without looking up. “I might as well live up to the accusations.”

  “I was here first, so the bed is mine. You can sleep in the hallway.” I don’t want to open my bag in front of him—I packed some nice panties in there and they’re right on top. Weddings are full of surprises and I didn’t want to have grannies on if things took a turn for the best. Obviously, that’s not going to happen, but I still need to get my clothes out, while holding up the shower curtain, and hiding way too many lacy, thongy things. I manage to get the suitcase unzipped and shove a hand inside.

  Nick has his hands behind his head. He looks over at me. “You’re cute when you’re mad. Did you know that?”

  “Your life expectancy will significantly decrease if you sleep in here tonight.”

  “You should really go home.”

  “You should really cancel your contract and stop stalking me.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Well, neither am I. Sophie’s my friend and I promised her some things. I’ll be damned if I let you shove me out.” Where the hell is my dress? My fingers loop around the strap. Finally. It should be right under the mountain of panties, so I give it a quick tug with one hand while holding the curtain up with the other.

  Two words: underwear everywhere.

  It’s like a panty explosion in a rainbow of colors. The little lacy bottoms go flying, as the dress emerges from my bag. Several pairs land on Nick’s face. I press my eyes shut and try not to scream. Jumping up and down and yelling won’t help. It won’t.

  Nick sits up and suppresses a grin, as he peels panties off his face. He holds up a pair of satin butterfly bottoms and sticks his fingers through the opening, looking impressed. “Are you sure that you’re not the slutty bridesmaid? Because these crotchless babies are just the kind she’d wear.”

  I snatch them away and shove them into my bag. “The slutty bridesmaid doesn’t wear panties at all, jackass. Damn, how many weddings have you shot? She’s not wearing anything but her dress, and will flash her titties at you later. You go to her room for the night and I’ll push you off a cliff tomorrow. I hope you have worker’s comp.” Translation: Go to Hell.

  Nick actually laughs. Wonderful. The guy has a death wish. As I disappear into the bathroom, he calls out, “Are you sure you don’t take meds?”

  “I hate you!” I yell through the door.

  “Yeah,” he mumbles, “you covered that part already.”

  What the hell am I supposed to do with this? I press my head to the closed door and try to calm down, but I can’t. I have to live with the man who’s destroying my life for the next five days, while also trying to convince my mother that I made the right career choice. This was supposed to be my opportunity to show off my mad skills, not have some lowlife complicate everything.

  Two people can’t be in control of one wedding, which is why there’s a non-compete clause in my contract. But it’s too late now. I can’t tattle to Sophie without causing tension between her and her father-in-law, and I don’t want to do that. That leaves me only one option.

  I have to kick Nick Ferro’s ass in every conceivable way.

  CHAPTER 8

  When I emerge from the bathroom, my dress is zipped up and my hair is done. I don’t want to see Nick again, but it’s not like I can hide forever. I glance around quickly and find him standing near the window with his phone pressed to his ear.

  His voice drifts inside. He sounds defensive, like he’s trying to convince someone of something. “I already have. Listen, it’s a business move, pure and simple. I’m on target to have the task completed before the deadline, and I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain.” His back tenses as he listens to the response. He must suck in a breath and hold it because his ribs expand, but don’t contract. Nick shakes his head and I can see his jaw is locked tight, like he’s holding back his thoughts.

  Nick must feel my gaze, because he looks over his shoulder and sees me. His voice drops, but I can still hear him. “Yes, sir. Listen, I can’t talk now. I’ll fill you in later. Thank you.” He disconnects and turns around. “Do you always eavesdrop?”

  “You’re in my room and talking way too loud, so, yeah. I heard you.” I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and slipping into a pair of black heels. “By the way, get over yourself. Like I care what you think or do.” My hair slips over my shoulder as I put on the second shoe. When I look up, Nick has a strange expression on his face. “What?”

  “You’re seriously going to work wearing heels? What if they want to go down by the beach? There are rocks everywhere. You’ll break your neck.” Nick is standing at the foot of the bed with his hands in his pockets. It’s an honest question, but I’m not taking anything at face value with this guy.

  Pushing up from the mattress, I walk over to him. With my fuck-me heels on we stand eye-to-eye. I smile and laugh lightly. It sounds a little evil. “Listen, I know I’ve shot more weddings than you, and, since you copy everything I do, I know that you can’t come up with a single idea on your own. The way I see it, you should put on a pair of heels and kiss my ass. Maybe you’d actually learn something and you wouldn’t have to be a monkey with a camera anymore.” Harsh much? Maybe, but the guy is a dick. He totally has it coming, and I’m not holding back.

  His lips curl into a playful smile. “Are you suggesting that you’re a better photographer than I am?”

  “I’m not suggesting it, I’m saying it. You’re shooting second this week. Stay out of my way.” When a team of photographers offers coverage for a single event, there’s a main shooter—called first—and a secondary shooter. The person shooting second is typically less experienced and can’t nail the shots needed to shoot as first shooter. It’s a slam at his ability.

  “I am not shooting second.” Nick inches closer so he’s in my face. “If you think that I’m going to hand over this wedding to you, you’re mistaken.”

  I laugh lightly and tip my head to the side. “How cute. You think you have a choice in the matter.”

  His warm breath slips across my cheek as he speaks. “I do, and if you get in my way, you’re going to wish you hadn’t.”

  I press the end of his nose like a button, which seems to shock him. “We’ll see about that.” I turn on my heel, grab my gear bag, and head toward the elevator feeling like I handled that very well. I suck at confrontation. Stuff always goes totally screwy and I usually end up making things worse.

  While I’m waiting for the doors to open, Nick appears in a black jacket and dark jeans. He looks like a freaking rock star. If Sophie acts like a Ferro groupie and swoons because Nick is at her wedding, I’m going to lose it. Nick is all charm and smiles again as he steps next to me, camera in hand.

  “You forgot something,” I say without looking at him. Like all his gear. What the hell is he going to do with one camera?

  “I don’t need multiple bodies,” he says it seductively. When I glance at him, he winks. “When I find something I like, I tend to be monogamous. I’m satisfied with one camera and a good lens.”

  Another couple materializes from the room next door and steps into the elevator with us. They’re dressed for dinner, so I assume they’re also going to Sophie’s wedding. The old woman has silvery hair cut short and styled in that poodle hairdo grannies typically sport. She smiles at me. “Are you the photographer for Sophie’s wedding?”

  Holding out my hand, I smile as she takes it. “Yes I am. Sky Thompson from Bella Chicks studio.”

  “Is this handsome young man your beau?”

  I nearly choke. Nick thrusts his hand past me. “Nick Ferro from Bella Clicks studio.”

  “So your studios work together?”

  “Yes,” Nick replies.

  “No,” I say at the same time and then glare at him. The doors open and the old couple walks out
, wishing us well. After they’re out of earshot, which is like two steps, I hiss at him. “Don’t tell people that we’re working together.”

  He shrugs. “Fine, just trying to save you from embarrassment.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” I roll my eyes and walk away from him, but the guy stays glued to my heels.

  “So, nepotism, huh?”

  “Bite me, Ferro.”

  “Later, Sky.” Before I can reply, he disappears into the crowded lobby.

  CHAPTER 9

  I try to stop mashing my lips together, so I don’t get labeled as the crazy girl, but I think the shower curtain dress kind of did that for me. People smile carefully at me and leave a wide berth as they pass.

  I find the room where dinner is being served, pull out my camera and slap on my 20mm lens. After adjusting the camera settings, I get to work photographing all the little details in the room before everyone arrives.

  I have my camera to my face when I hear Daddy’s voice. “Tell me that the crazy woman in the shower curtain everyone is talking about wasn’t my daughter.” He’s standing in the doorway with a big smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. He seems so old and fragile compared to my mother. As a child, I thought my Dad could rule the world and save me from anything, well, anything except my mother. He holds out his arms. “Get over here.”

  I step into his arms and feel his hands pat my back, before he pulls away just enough to kiss my cheek. “Hey Dad.”

  “Are you all right? You haven’t called in a while. Do you have enough money? Here.” He pulls a fifty dollar bill from his pocket and shoves it in my hands.

  I try to give it back, but he won’t let me. “I’m fine Dad.” Lie number one, but I want it to be true so it’s not like I’m going to burn in Hell for misleading him. Besides, I want him to be proud of me. I’ve made something successful from nothing, well, until Nick came along, that is.