The Werewolf King Series

Racing around my apartment with my hair still dripping from the shower, I knew I was already running late for this meeting.

I’d overslept, and I probably shouldn’t have tried to squeeze in a workout at the gym. But hey, it was supposed to be my day off. The last thing I expected was a call about a wedding scheduled for next week, asking me to step in.

Next week!

The call had come in just moments ago, and the bride-to-be was insisting I meet her at the venue in half an hour. My first instinct was to say no. A last-minute wedding is no small task.

But then she started talking about the venue, the guest list, and the paycheck. Let’s just say, she made it hard for me to refuse.

So, I had two choices. Either I was getting into a cab with wet hair or without makeup because there was no time for both. Decisions, decisions.

I was still in shock that she’d called me. This was New York City. There’s no shortage of wedding planners, and it sounded like money was no object for them.

I’d always dreamed of landing a gig like this for my portfolio, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was too good to be true. It usually was.

Sure, I’ve dealt with my fair share of bridezillas, and I’ve been told I handle them pretty well. But what was I getting myself into here?

I decided to worry about that later. For now, I needed to squeeze into a skirt and run a comb through my hair.

If I went light on the makeup, maybe I could pull my wet hair into a bun. That’s professional, right?

I didn’t care. That’s all I had time for. If they didn’t like it, they should’ve given me more notice.

Crap, the driver was here, and I hadn’t even finished buttoning my blouse. I hopped around on one foot, trying to put on my shoe. I grabbed the rest of my stuff and promised myself I’d never agree to a meeting like this again.

Even if she offered me a million dollars, it wasn’t worth running out into the street half-dressed.

Okay, maybe this wedding would be worth the hassle, I thought as we toured the massive estate.

As we drove up the long gravel driveway to the secluded property just outside the city, I wondered why I’d never heard of this venue before.

I thought I knew all the hidden gems, at least within a twenty-mile radius, but this place was something else.

It was fit for a royal wedding. Even a princess wouldn’t find anything to complain about here. The marble floors were immaculate. The natural light was stunning. And the decor! If I wasn’t about to meet my client, I would’ve gotten lost admiring the art in the entry hall. Luckily, she found me just in time.

Arya was the picture-perfect bride-to-be—friendly and so naturally beautiful that I found myself staring when she first shook my hand.

With her long blonde hair, big eyes, and elegant demeanor, she rushed up to me with a smile. She looked like a marble statue—too perfect to be real.

As we got to know each other, I learned that this estate was actually her family home, and her billionaire brother was footing the bill for the wedding.

I made a mental note to ask for an introduction. If I could list this place as a private venue, it could bring in a lot of business.

“Let me introduce you to my fiancé, Mike,” she said, her face lighting up at the mention of his name. For a moment, I felt a pang of jealousy at the love in her eyes.

It surprised me. I’m usually good at keeping my emotions in check around clients. When you work with couples in love as much as I do, you get used to the sweet nicknames and cute stories.

But there was no denying the love in her eyes. I wished I had someone I loved like that.

The groom, on the other hand, was… well, let’s just say he wasn’t as picture-perfect. His hair looked unwashed, and he was sweating profusely. I also noticed his eyes lingering on my chest a little too long to be accidental.

It saddened me to see a man like that marrying a beautiful, kind woman like Arya, but it wasn’t my place to judge. I was here to give them the perfect wedding, and that’s exactly what I planned to do.

Who cared if the groom was a creep? As long as the bride was happy, I was happy. And my bank account was about to be very happy too. Did that make me a bad person?

“Do you think you can do it?” Arya asked, her eyes pleading. “I hate to dump this on you last minute, but my original planner, Harriet, had her baby a month early, and your reviews were amazing online.”

I looked over the list we’d discussed—mentally thanking my new website—before answering. I didn’t see anything on her list of requests that seemed impossible.

She was perfectly reasonable with her expectations, and she certainly had the budget to make it all happen.

She needed that big budget, though, considering some of her requests—a ceiling made of crystal to look like a starry night?

“I think this will be perfect! Leave it with me,” I said, giving her my most charming smile.

She squealed with joy.

I could see myself enjoying this wedding more than most. I love a good challenge. As long as this Mike guy kept his distance, I’d be counting down the days.

What could possibly go wrong?