“Three times!” the man roared.
She pulled the phone away with a wince. “Yes. Still, Los Angeles would be the ideal location.”
A destination wedding was out of the question, not when there was only two months left. They could theoretically do one of numerous overseas vacation homes the family owned, but flying everyone over would be a nightmare. As far as Ceinlys knew, none of Jane’s friends and family in Paris, West Virginia owned a jet, and she wasn’t certain if she could book enough first and business class seats without an overly complex routing. Then there would be coordination with the local staff… No. That wouldn’t do at all.
“But the money would stretch farther in Paris.”
“I do understand,” she said, putting as much empathy as she could in her voice while making sure it stayed steely enough to let him know she wasn’t budging. “However, Jane has told me that Paris is a rather small town. I’m not certain that it has the right lodging and infrastructure for what I’m thinking of.” And the fact that she would only have twenty thousand to work with. Good god. She’d assumed Wes would offer at least fifty. They could easily spend twenty on flowers alone.
“Well… I guess you know better than I do about these things.”
She said nothing.
“I just want my girl to have the best.”
“Of course. And it is my wish that she and my son have a memorable ceremony.”
She hung up and sighed. Given how late it was, a fancy venue was out of the question. No, it had to be some place close and inexpensive. Preferably free…
The family grove.
She tapped her index finger on the rim of her empty coffee cup. Mark and Hilary had gotten married there, but maybe it would be okay to recycle the venue. It was beautiful in the grove, and quite romantic. One of the earlier Pryce men had bought it for his bride, who had been a citrus farmer’s daughter. The family claimed he’d done so out of love, and Ceinlys believed that. The place wasn’t big enough to be commercial.
Energized, she rose to her feet and began pacing. If they could swing an outdoor wedding, maybe they could try something creative and cut down on the cost of flowers.
The grove was with the Pryce family and controlled by Salazar, but she could ask him to let her use it. She stopped. Maybe she should ask his assistant instead. Ceinlys didn’t think she could face Salazar. The divorce was still too fresh, their conversation at the hospital too painful.
She shook her head. Enough about her problems. This was about Jane and Iain.
Ceinlys hadn’t had to worry about money in decades, but she hadn’t grown up in the lap of luxury. Her family had been working class. She could figure out ways to economize and still make the event memorable.
But first, she needed to see a few florists and find out what could be done.
* * *
Salazar parked outside Ceinlys’s condo building. He wanted to just barge into the place, but he couldn’t bring himself to sign in with the concierge.
At least the building looked secure and safe. The security station had a pair of darkly tanned men who looked like they made a habit of bathing in their enemies’ blood. Salazar approved.
He didn’t even know why he was there. Ceinlys was a long but finished chapter in his life.
Was it his pride? Did he want to prove Shirley wrong after all those years?
What did it matter anyway? If Ceinlys confirmed that she’d wanted him for his money, then it would cut him to the core. If she said she’d married for love…
It would hurt even more.
Over thirty years of regret swirled through him like bitter smoke. The last time he’d touched Ceinlys…she’d seduced him on an almost daily basis for a month. Later, he’d found out she’d done it to pass Vanessa off as his. That had left him bleeding, but he’d never regretted losing himself in her.
No other woman had ever come close. She was incomparable, the only one.
After Shane had been born, she’d taken lovers. The first time, Salazar had almost killed the man for touching his woman, but he’d had just enough sense to restrain himself. After all, he was a man of pride, and he would never let anyone know he would stoop to jealousy. It had never really gotten easier, but now…
Now she was free.
And she would find someone else—she was still the most gorgeous woman he knew, and it wouldn’t take her any effort at all to replace him with someone else, while he stewed over the things she’d said at the hospital.
You should’ve never let her go.
Provence.
Eleven hours away. Eleven hours away. Not that far.
Still… How could he live with her on another continent?
He rubbed his face with his hands.
Ceinlys emerged from the building, looking as sophisticated as always in a conservative, fitted black dress that showed off her stunning legs. A glittering blue hairpin held her French twist together, and a black lambskin purse hung from one slender arm. A determined tilt to her chin told him she was up to something, and the sparkle in her eyes said it was something she was looking forward to.
A man?
The thought slid into his gut like a knife.
And why the fuck not? Didn’t women always lose weight after a divorce to rejoin the meat market? Ceinlys had definitely tightened up, not that she’d really needed to. She was always perfect exactly the way she was.
Before he could regain sense or logic, he leaped out of his Aston Martin, almost running into her.
Her hand flew to her chest, and she gasped. “Salazar.”
“Ceinlys,” he said, barely managing to keep his voice cool and modulated. Or at least what he hoped was cool and modulated. Good god. What the hell was wrong with him? But it was too late to go back now.
“What are you doing here?”
“Happened to be in the neighborhood,” he said, voice cracking slightly. Damn it. He cleared his throat. “Sophia said she and Dane are going to host Christmas this year.” He stifled a wince. That was, as the young ones would say, “not at all smooth.”
Ceinlys pulled back a bit, blinking. “That would be remarkable, if she managed to get Dane to agree. But there won’t be anything hosted by him this Christmas. Jane and Iain are getting married on Christmas Eve.”
That got both of his eyebrows shooting up. “They are?”
“Yes.”
“This Christmas?”
She nodded.
“But that only gives them two months.”
“Less, actually.”
He considered, then shrugged. “Well, Iain can afford it.” That boy was too smitten to care how much it would cost, monetarily or otherwise, to marry that small town fiancée of his. Sort of like how Salazar had been when he’d decided to marry Ceinlys.
And it had cost him oh so dearly.
Ceinlys’s brow creased for a fraction of a moment before smoothing out again. “He certainly could, but Jane’s father is paying for the wedding.” She adjusted the purse straps on her arm.
Aghast, Salazar stared at her. “Why would Iain have her father pay for it? And don’t tell me it’s tradition.”
“Her father wanted to,” she said simply.
“Bah! That’s pointless unless the man has a mattress stuffed with hundred dollar bills.”
“He doesn’t, but he’s going to pay for it, and that’s that.” Her lips firmed.