Another check-in with Violet showed that the bridesmaids had taken my threats to heart. They were helping Violet get ready, working on her hair, encouraging her. Chi had gotten started on her makeup, and let me know the situation with the hairdresser and makeup artist—they'd gone into St. Tropez the night before to party, and ended up stuck due to the floods.

"Of course," I rolled my eyes, "that's what happens when you hire up-and-coming, unreliable groupies as your staff." I recalled how Violet had insisted on these two women, that she'd heard they did events for other celebrities, and they'd make her look exquisite for her special day. After researching them, I found out they were fakes, but Violet had made up her mind and wouldn't heed my advice.

Slightly reassured—Maisie was still moody and giving me the stink-eye, though she was helping—I sauntered back down to the second floor to start scouring the property for essentials.

"Flowers, any kind of flowers, real, fake, any color," I said to the staff members I'd managed to draw to my cause. Without Axel there to order them around, I had no authority, and wasn't positive anyone would take note of my commands.

But to my pleasant surprise, they acknowledged my requests without question. They delivered the requested flowers—some that would work perfectly for bouquets, too. They also located small statuettes that'd function beautifully as decoration for the tables, streamers for the walls, potted plants to delimitate the aisle and to set up around the ballroom.

In the rooms, they found silky curtains, lacy doilies, silver candlesticks, delicate vases. In storage, they discovered additional chairs and tables, unused and customizable guest books, disposable cameras, rose gold ribbons, and fairy lights from previous events that'd do well enough for the ceremony and the following reception.

They wiped down, dusted, polished all the items they'd unearthed and began setting them up in the ballroom as I checked the time on my phone—nearly noon.

And still, no sign of Axel and whatever his idea had been.

"On to the next task," I said to myself as I left the rest of the set-up in the hotel staff's deft hands.

In the restaurant, non-wedding folks were taking their seats for lunch—the hotel still needed to operate normally for its regular guests. I bit the insides of my cheeks as I prepared to disturb them all.

I stood near the bar and cleared my throat. "I'm so sorry to bother you all," I said, in French, then in English. "As some of you may know, we have a large wedding going on here today. Due to the storm and its aftermath, we're short of many supplies and essential pieces for the ceremony. We're also short of vendors. Notably a DJ, an officiant or ordained minister, and someone with a decent camera and the knowledge to use it. If anyone has the qualifications to help us, we'd greatly appreciate it. You would naturally be compensated and included in the wedding."

Some ignored me, but a few people stood and stepped forward, letting me know how they may be able to assist. One was actually a professional videographer, in town to shoot for a commercial, but they couldn't get into St. Tropez today. Another was an officiant on vacation with his husband, and they were happy to lend a hand.

I took down their phone numbers and room locations, and told them to go check out the ballroom whenever they got a chance.

"I'll be in touch with you soon," I said, quickly escaping the restaurant to allow everyone else to resume their meals in peace.

Out in the landing, I sighed in relief. But as I peered down at my clipboard, putting check-marks next to the tasks I'd miraculously taken care of, I heard a thud, a groan, and a squelch of liquid.

I glanced up to find Axel coming up the main stairs, sporting thick, plastic, soggy boots that went up to his knees. And behind him, several individuals wearing the same type of gear, bewildered looks on their faces.

"Ax—Mr. Levine?" I held the clipboard to my chest and squinted at him as he shrugged the boots off, revealing a pair of loafers underneath. He wore the same outfit as earlier that morning, and sweat dotted along his forehead, matting down his dark ginger hair.

"Vivienne," he said, approaching me, using a towel he'd been holding to wipe his face, his hands. "I'm back."

"I see that." I arched an eyebrow, taking in the ten...fifteen...twenty...thirty people now crowding up the landing, coming up the stairs behind Axel. "And you've brought..." I analyzed their outfits; aside from the boots, they wore designer suits and couture dresses, jewelry dripping down their necks and dangling from their ears, impeccable makeup on their eyes and cheeks and lips, luxury handbags in their grasp, sparkling watches around their wrists. "Friends?"

"Guests," said Axel, extracting his phone from his pocket. "And also the DJ." He gestured at a green and blue-haired dude who marched straight for the ballroom. "And the officiant," a solemn young man in a navy suit nodded at the mention, "and the photographer," a petite woman lifted her large camera and smiled.

"You..." I wished I were closer to a chair, because my legs wobbled and my heart skipped beats and I wasn't certain I could trust my hearing or my eyesight. "You fetched the DJ and the officiant and the photographer and the guests? From in town?"

Axel's smile was small, but warm. "Yeah. Someone had to. You were busy here, lots on your plate, so this was my best way to contribute."

He was funding the whole thing and allowing it to unfold at his hotel, yet he felt that he needed to do more?

I gulped. Then hiccuped. Then gulped again.

"But..." I stared at the group of people gathered in the hallway, speaking amongst themselves, getting acquainted with the area. A few were the high-end celebrities I remembered seeing on the guest list. They blended in with the other attendees, admiring the artwork on the walls, commenting on the gorgeous though partially flooded location. "How?"

Axel shrugged, tossing the towel into a growing pile of other towels the guests had been using to tidy up. "The hotel's private helicopter." He ruffled through his hair, then stuffed his hands into his pockets, shoulders rising. "Luckily, I learned to maneuver helicopters in my youth. Perks of being filthy rich, like you'd said. And as you were laying out all our issues earlier, I had a hunch that I could finally put my skills to the test."

My jaw dropped, and I worried I was about to collapse. "You were in the helicopter? I heard it take off, saw it fly, and I—" I fanned my face. "You did that?"

"I felt so stagnant and powerless because of the flood," he said, lowering his voice as he came closer. His usual spicy scent was overpowered by musk and a whiff of the outdoors, but his aura was comforting, his body language open, and friendly. Heroic. "And then I remembered the chopper, and how local authorities were using their own to help people out...so I figured I'd check it out." He pointed at the balcony doors. "There's a side passage along the backyard that wasn't too flooded, so I used it to get to the helipad—which is elevated, and so it was spared from any damage."

A rich, hotel-owning CEO who hopped into helicopters to grab guests to bring to his little sister's destroyed wedding—jeez, money was nice, wasn't it? The ability to not care, not even think twice about complications and back-ups.

And yet...

Axel had once again used his status to save the day. He was dashing, single, swimming in cash, and he'd employed all his resources and knowledge...for Violet's wedding.

Shit. This guy might be loaded, but he's one of the good ones, isn't he?

"Okay," I frowned at him, "but how did you get out of the building? I thought downstairs was covered in an inch or two of water, and it wasn't recommended to wade through it?"

"Boots and service stairs," he said, his voice simple, as if I should have known that was an option all along. Another perk of being rich and owning this place—bending the rules. "And some of the more elevated parts of downstairs aren't flooded, believe it or not. The left side, facing the beach? It didn't get hit at all. Dry as ever."

I pictured the downstairs area, the tiny slope leading up from the lobby and towards the hall with rooms—my room, in particular.

"I grabbed the keys, made some calls, and started making runs to bring the guests here. They had boots and towels and were ready for the ride; for some, it was their first time in a chopper." Axel's cheeks glowed with pride, a sense of thrill, of adventure. "And since some of the way was cleared, I was able to get them inside and up the main stairs. There was a section that was dry by the steps, and in any case, they were all geared up. It was a fun, interactive way to solve some of our problems, and it didn't cost me much. Actually," he smirked, "it didn't cost me anything."

My heart exploded in my chest. Were we alone, were there no guests and onlookers to witness my interactions, I'd have jumped into Axel's arms and covered his handsome face in kisses. I'd have slid my fingers down his pants for a thank-you hand-job, and I'd have taken him into my mouth to express my happiness.

With his quick thinking, his mountains of cash, and his resourceful skills, he'd saved the day—Violet's day. And he'd potentially saved my career, too. Now, if I could ensure no one found out about all the sex we'd been having, and the rest of the day went off without a hitch, I might not lose my job.

Axel brushed some dirt off his jeans. "Well, now that more guests are here, I need to go get dressed."

I nodded, and as I was about to head to the ballroom to help everyone get situated, Axel snagged my wrist and instead directed me towards the stairs. "No, come with me. Upstairs."

"Mr. Levine," I said, eyebrows lurching up, "we don't have time for that."

He snorted. "Not for that." He nudged me up the first step, peering left and right to be certain no one was listening. "I need to go check on the bride and groom. Reassure them that everything is going to work out and we have it all figured out. And..." As we were halfway up the stairs, out of earshot or sight, he smacked my ass. "You need to get changed."

"Yes." I flushed at his palm resting against my butt, its warmth filling me with a brief shot of desire. How about right there, in the stairwell? With everyone busy in the ballroom, or getting ready in their rooms, they might be able to pull it off. I felt reckless, senseless, loaded with adrenaline and pleasure and attraction for Axel. "My bag is in your room, and I—"

"—no," he said, squeezing my butt before releasing me. "You can change in your room. Some of the downstairs isn't flooded, remember? I'll show you where the service stairs are, so you can get down there without being intercepted by anyone."

I paused on the top step, biting my lip. "But what about Violet and Reece? Shouldn't I tell them what's going on?"

"I'll handle it." He couldn't touch me; not here, in the open, with the bridesmaids and groomsmen's doors nearby. Not with the risk of Violet or Estelle or Reece coming out into the hallway to spot us. Yet he stood so close, his breath blowing over my cheeks, prompting a series of chills to crawl up and down my spine. It was as if he was touching me, his fingertips tracing circles over my skin, his torso moving up and down against mine with every thud of his heart. "You've done enough. My staff informed me of what you did while I was gone, so I'll take over from here. And I'll make sure Violet knows that."

My hand twitched, wanting to reach for his, to hold it. He caught the movement and grinned at me, fighting his own needs, battling the electric pull between us.

He'd left his suite unlocked for me, so I grabbed my overnight bag and took the service stairs that he'd indicated to me before rushing off to chat with Violet. I erupted on the ground floor, doors down from my room, to a solemn silence. Other guests who were staying on this level hadn't yet been informed that their suites were intact. I'd been granted the privilege as the wedding planner who was coincidentally fucking the CEO paying for the wedding.

Though my room wasn't flooded, it did exude a slightly wet, moldy smell mixed with salt and mud. I lit a candle, and proceeded to lay my clothes out on the bed and spray them with the air-freshener I'd brought in my luggage.

As I worked on my makeup, I thought of Axel, of his risk-taking, of his assistance with saving his sister's wedding. The hoops he'd jumped through, and the way he took little to no credit for it all, instead making sure I was front and center to receive the compliments.

How wrong I'd been about him; how misguided I'd been about his motives. His once frigid exterior was a facade he'd put on for me, out of respect for my job and how afraid I was of losing it.

When he'd approached me as a lustful man wanting a quick adventure, I'd wanted nothing else, nothing more. But as I peeled back his layers, got to know him, saw his true personality shine through, I realized I did want something else, something more. I wanted him—this man who let no obstacle stop him from making his family members and peers happy. A man who'd do just about anything to keep my reputation intact, even if that meant hiding his rampant desire for me. A man who'd spend no limit of money to put on a great event, without ever asking for thanks, for recognition.

A true, real gentleman. A heart of gold hid under his hot body, a smart brain under that luscious ginger hair. He thought fast, was witty, mature, and thoughtful. Elegant, well-dressed, incredibly handsome. He was everything I'd always dreamed of having, everything I never thought I deserved.

But I couldn't have him. I worked for him. Being with him would cost me the job he was trying so hard to help me keep.

I rolled a deep red lipstick onto my lips, puckered them, and shook my head. "Axel Levine is not for you, Vivi. He's your employer, and he's off-limits. The sex is heavenly, but that's all it is." I swallowed, disbelieving my own forced smile, seeing lies in my bag-lined hazel eyes. "Just sex."

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