Chapter 2 02

"No, there is a need. I meant what I said. The choice is yours. Goodbye."

I felt like that was a good moment to end the conversation, so I did exactly that. Something told me he'd find a way to get me those flowers. My dad gave his business a lot of money, and I wasn't afraid to remind people of that when needed. I wasn't the sort of person to beg or plead for anything, and the thought of asking for flowers seemed too small a request to bother him with. I didn't need to, anyway. He was going to come through. He always did when money was involved.

Glancing around the mostly empty ballroom, I heaved a loud sigh. This place was nowhere near ready, and I had less than a week to plan this party. I wasn't panicking-at least not yet-but I was close. The ballroom itself was gorgeous. If the event was going to be remembered for anything, it was going to be the setting. The high ceilings, the glistening chandeliers, the smooth marble floors-it all screamed luxury, class, and wealth. But that wasn't enough. It needed pizzazz, and pizzazz didn't come from lilies or freaking tulips. That was for sure.

"Ugh, this is going to be a nightmare," I muttered under my breath.

I could already feel my neck tightening with the familiar tension that always crept in when the clock started ticking louder. The last-minute scramble was nothing new for me. I thrived under pressure, but the pressure wasn't what bothered me. It was the constant stream of people who thought they could handle things for me and then somehow managed to screw them up. Like Aaron.

Aaron Gaff ran past me just then, distracting me from my contemplations. He was carrying a large cardboard box, and his usual exuberance seemed muted. Aaron was pretty much my only guy friend. We'd known each other since childhood-before the weight of the family business started to consume me. He was a good guy, even if he could be a bit... unreliable sometimes. I had a soft spot for him, though. I tended to scare everyone else off, but that was fine with me. They were all idiots, anyway. And Aaron wasn't an idiot. He was just... a little slow to catch on sometimes.

"Aaron!" I barked, making him stop in his tracks. He turned and gave me a crooked grin, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What's in that box? Did you find the lights I told you about?"

Aaron hesitated, his eyes flicking down to the box. "No-well, not exactly. I found these, and they're just as good."

I narrowed my eyes and peered inside the box, making a face at the contents. I was immediately repulsed. "Are you kidding me? These are not just as good! The lights I told you about are lined with gold. These are lined with what, bronze? Some other cheap knockoff? No, this isn't what I wanted. Go find the lights!"

Aaron took a step back, lifting his hands in surrender. "But-"

"Go!" I snapped.

From the look he gave me, it was obvious he didn't appreciate my tone. But it wasn't like he was doing this for free. I was paying the guy-generously, too. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed to help, and he was damn lucky to have a gig like this, considering my dad's connections. I didn't care about his feelings at the moment. This was business. I needed things done right, or nothing was going to go according to plan.

As I watched Aaron run out the door, my phone vibrated in my hand, jolting me from my frustration. I glanced at the caller ID. Of course, it was the catering company. The last thing I needed right now was another screw-up, but here we were. I sighed, knowing that whatever was about to happen on the other end of this call was going to make my life harder. I answered with a frown. "This is Emma van der Bilt," I said, adjusting my phone over my ear.

"Hi, Emma. I'm just calling to confirm your order," a woman's voice said, cheery but with that edge of formality that was supposed to reassure me. It didn't.

"That's fine. List it off for me," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to center myself. I didn't have time for this, but I had to deal with it now. Otherwise, it would only get worse.

She started reading through the items-shrimp cocktails, grilled asparagus, chocolate mousse, all the usual fancy stuff. It wasn't exactly my first choice, but when you're hosting an event with people who love to make everything about themselves, you have to compromise. The menu was safe, predictable, and would impress no one except the people who didn't know any better.

And then, she said it.

"...and I see here you've ordered cream of mushroom soup?"

I blinked. "Wait a second. Did you just say cream of mushroom?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

I huffed in disbelief. "Is there a problem? Is there a problem? Of course, there's a problem! I said crème brûlée, not cream of mushroom! How do you even mix the two up?"

The woman on the other end of the line was silent for a beat. "I'm so sorry for the mix-up, Emma. I'll fix this right away and have your order ready by Saturday."

I could practically hear her frantically typing away on her keyboard. "Good. Call me when you have it right," I snapped, and without another word, I hung up.

I stared at my phone, fuming. This was stressing me out beyond belief, and it really shouldn't have been stressing me out at all. It couldn't be that hard to get a simple request down correctly. I'd given them a list, specifically detailing everything. So how did cream of mushroom even get into the mix? And it wasn't just that. Nearly everyone had somehow screwed up my orders. My florist had delivered roses instead of peonies-peonies! How was that even possible? And then there was the band. They'd promised an acoustic set and instead showed up with a full rock band, drums and all. I'd had to send them home and go without music. I couldn't afford to lose anything else now. I needed perfection.

This was getting way out of hand. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I needed to calm down, but it was hard to when everything I touched seemed to turn into a disaster. Maybe I just needed a nap. I'd been up for hours, double-checking the venue, contacting the vendors, and making sure the guest list didn't have any surprises on it. Taylor's birthday party was supposed to be the event of the year, and somehow, it was starting to feel like a disaster waiting to happen.

I leaned against the cold marble pillar in the ballroom, my mind whirling with everything that had to be done. I could feel the weight of it all pressing in, and the last thing I wanted to do was admit how overwhelmed I was. But maybe that was part of the problem-my pride. I refused to ask for help. I'd never needed it before, but now... now, I wasn't sure.

Footsteps echoed in the distance, and I turned to see a woman in a black dress approaching me with a clipboard in hand. I didn't recognize her, but she must have been one of the event coordinators for the venue.

"Miss van der Bilt?" she asked, her voice polite but professional.

I nodded, straightening up. "Yes?"

"We've been asked to go over the seating arrangements," she said. "It's quite an intricate set-up, and I just wanted to make sure everything aligns with your vision."

I forced a smile, pushing all my frustration aside for a moment. I couldn't afford to lose it now, not with only a few days left. "Of course. Let's take a look."

As we walked toward the table layout, I couldn't help but wonder if anyone would notice when I finally snapped under all this pressure. For now, though, I just needed to get it done. Get everything perfect. And then maybe, just maybe, I could get some sleep.