“Forty-six.”
Lucy flopped back in her chair and placed her palms on the edge of the desk. She pinched her lips to either stifle a hysterical laugh ... or a hysterical cry.
“Okay.” She nodded and hunched her shoulders. This was about the couples. This was about granting wishes to happy couples. “Okay,” she said again quietly.
“Are you sure you’re not having a meltdown?”
“Yep. Yep. I’m…sure. I think. Have fun at the dentist, Maxine. See you in the morning.”
“Um. Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“Right. See you Monday, Maxine.”
Maxine grinned and got up slowly. She grabbed her iPad and coffee and proceeded to walk about but paused at the door. “You know, Lucy. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”
“You are? Why?” Lucy asked.
“For not contesting Chris’s will. She was an odd one at times but this business meant the world to her. She was able to make dreams come true for people just like her, I guess. You’re sort of cool. I thought you were some prude Miss Proper who was going to sell this company to the highest bidder and here you are…” Maxine seemed as if she was going to be teary-eyed but Lucy could tell she was only teasing her. “Doing your best to make this work. Kudos to you, girlfriend.” She strode out of Lucy’s office.
Lucy smiled and shook her head. She glanced at the clock on her computer screen and it was almost four-thirty in the afternoon. The young receptionist outside her door would be leaving soon, too. Lucy continued her aunt’s tradition of letting employees leave earlier than five o’clock on Fridays.
Just then the receptionist buzzed her office.
“Yes, Darla?” Lucy called out over the speakerphone intercom.
“You have an appointment, Lucy.”
“I do? I thought I was all clear for the afternoon.” This was the last thing Lucy wanted to hear. She was looking forward to going home early on this Friday after a hectic week at the office and soak in a nice aroma-therapy Epsom salt-soothing bath, sipping champagne to celebrate that she was still alive after a crazy week. Heck, just celebrating breathing.
“You have a Mr. Antonio Romero here to see you,” Darla answered back over the intercom.
Antonio Romero? Antonio Romero? Lucy glanced down at her notepad. Holy shit! The seventy-six- year-old tycoon with the Fun Birds themed wedding!
“Right. Please send him in, Darla.”
“Will do.”
Lucy straightened out her skirt, which had ridden up while she was seated. She looked as if she’d just worked a busy workday but she knew how respectable she needed to look for her clients, especially the elderly ones who were used to prim and proper back in the day. When the door swung open, Lucy’s jaw fell wide open.
Lucy was stunned, dazed, confused.
Standing before her was the most gorgeous, possibly six-foot, dark-tanned and sexy as hell young man she’d ever seen in her life. He was dressed in a stunning, expensive-looking suit that seemed to complement his obvious muscular frame and broad shoulders. He had dark, silky cropped hair and deep, rich dark eyes and high chiseled cheekbones. He was to die for. She wasn’t good with ages but he sure as hell was nowhere near seventy-six. There must have been a mistake. The other thing Lucy noticed was that Mr. Drop-Dead-Sexy was not smiling. He appeared not in a good mood. He glared at her through dangerously dark eyes framed with the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man.
“Mr. Romero?” Lucy queried, still stunned!
“I’m his grandson, Antonio.”
Oh. My. God. “You’re Antonio Romero the third?” Lucy extended her hand then quickly withdrew it when she saw his jaw was clenched. Did he bite?
“I’m sorry, I thought it was your grandfather. We’re not allowed to discuss contracts with anyone other than the client and his or her spokesperson, sir.”
“Miss Shillerton, I’ll make this short. I know you’re probably as pressed for time as I am but I want you to cancel this wedding of my grandfather's. And I want you to do it pronto.”
“What?” Lucy almost fell over. Who does he think he is? “What are you talking about?”
“I’m aware you took over the business from your aunt and I appreciate what you are trying to do.” Antonio sounded more curt and authoritative, if that was possible. “But I will pay you any amount of money for your inconvenience to prevent my grandfather from making the biggest mistake of his life.”
“Do tell. What makes you think he’s making a mistake?” Lucy was growing hotter by the second. Was the heat climbing in the office all of a sudden—or was it the tension between them? It wasn’t merely the fact that this bossy man just barged into her office uttering commands for her to follow but, yeah, he was hot as hell. Focus, Lucy. Focus.