Though I yearned for a stint outside to get some air, I didn't get a chance to leave the ballroom. All manners of events occurred one after the other, all of which required my attention.

First, Axel and Violet danced—though they'd initially decided against it—and Violet broke down in tears two minutes into the song. Axel held her up, beckoning the help of his siblings, and eyeing me too; but I didn't want to intrude on the moment. It was a time for brothers and sisters, and Violet was crying because one, she'd had too much to drink; and two, the excess of alcohol reminded her that her father wasn't there, and Axel stood in his place.

The action didn't stop there. When it was time for the bouquet toss, all the bridesmaids—who'd seemed so close to one another earlier—clustered together, getting violent as they took their places behind Violet. They bared their fangs, and Maisie kept staring at Axel as she waited for Violet to toss the flowers, likely thinking that if she caught them, it'd mean she'd get to see Axel naked.

There were screams, punches, some definite clawing—but none of the bridesmaids were successful in catching the bouquet, as it landed right in my lap. I'd sat as far off to the side as possible to avoid this, but when Violet flipped around and saw that I'd technically been the one to catch it, she beamed from ear to ear, clapping like an excited kid.

I frowned, dodging the bullet-like glares of the bridesmaids. Had Violet sent her bouquet in the wrong direction on purpose? Why would she do that?

I had no chance to ask her, as it was time to cut the cake and indulge in the mountain of pastries prepared for today; a treat of Axel's, he said, when Violet voiced her surprise at the additional desserts.

"To make up for all the issues," Axel lifted his glass—likely his fourth or fifth of the night, I'd lost count. "A little extra sweetness; who'd say no to that?"

No one did, not even me. I delighted in a few macarons, a tartelette, and a chunky piece of the marbled vanilla and chocolate cake.

Sufficiently sugared-up, I licked frosting off my fingers and set my plate down. I meandered out of the ballroom at last, thinking this was my chance to get some air, to get some distance from the drunken guests and Axel's intoxicated scent.

Out on the balcony, I breathed in, letting the crisp oxygen hit my lungs, loading them with relief. Then I huffed out, deflating, almost wrapping around the railing like a wet blanket. My feet hurt, my head ached, and the wine was turning in my belly. And of course, my underwear was still drenched from Axel's fingers, when they delved into me and rocked my world in five point five minutes.

So many emotions that night, adding on to the piles and piles of things that had happened since I set foot in the hotel, what felt like weeks ago. It had only been a few days, yet I believed I'd been stuck in this one-night-stand situationship with Axel for too long. Much too long.

The storm, the flooding, the last-minute changes—this gig had tested my skills, my psyche, my body. I'd likely need a session with a therapist when I got home.

I glanced down at the pool, and it was no longer overflowing. The concrete in the patio area had dried up, and some of the tables remained shiny with liquid, but less so than earlier that day. The grass bristled in the light breeze, and the waves crashed in soothing motions, the moon big and bright over the finally calmed ocean.

I became so engrossed in the view that I didn't hear the balcony door creak open and someone joining me.

He didn't startle me, this time; but my heart did skip a beat to see him standing there, moonlight pooling over his face, his bowtie undone, his jacket unbuttoned.

"Hey," said Axel, his voice more docile than usual. Lower in his throat, but without power, without the polite facade.

"Hi," I said, gripping the railing, fearing another round of leg-quaking foreplay.

He seemed to grasp my worry with a sheepish grin. "No, I didn't follow you out here for that." He raised his palms. "I promise."

I studied him, one eyebrow arched. "Good, because I don't think I can handle it."

His smile was timid, but still caused fireworks to explode in my gut. "I wanted to thank you, again, for everything. For all your hard work. I swear I'll talk to your firm and ensure they don't fire you. You did do everything in your power considering the circumstances."

"So," I gulped, "even though we fucked before I knew who you were and potentially ruined your sister's wedding with my libido, you'll still give me a good rating on YELP?" It was a partial joke; I didn't expect him to leave me a review at all, but if my bosses saw it, it might plead my case.

"Regardless of what we did," he gestured to me, then to himself, "you didn't ruin Violet's wedding. If anything, you elevated it. A storm like that...it would have rattled other wedding planners into failure. They'd have begged the bride to reschedule it all, which would have ruined everything. You didn't." He twitched, his arm about to stretch out and touch me, but he refrained, fighting his urge. "You stayed strong, you came up with solutions, and you made my sister happy. That's all that matters to me. And that's why I'll speak with your employer ASAP and clarify that. You had no control over the weather, but you had control of the situation."

I shook my head, tearing my gaze away to focus on the horizon. "I didn't, though. Inside?" I jammed a finger into my chest, right over my throbbing heart. "I was a blubbering mess of emotions and lust and confusion. Every time I turned serious, every time I tried to work, you were there, distracting me. And then...helping me. Always helping me, like you didn't...you didn't trust me? Being handsy, like you said you were."

Axel's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa, wait a minute. I trusted you. Trust you. I helped because I had the resources to do so, never because I thought I was better than you. You're a trained wedding planner, with certifications and contracts; I'm the rich asshole who paid for it all."

"Fuck." I cringed. "I didn't mean it like...I never..." I blew out my cheeks. "You're not an asshole."

He scoffed. "You certainly implied it."

"I'm confused, Axel." I massaged the back of my neck, peering at the ground, but sensing his insistent gaze on me, burning my cheeks. "You keep trying to help me with my job, but at the same time, you keep tempting me into sleeping with you. Your presence...it unsettles me, okay? I thought that was clear."

"It was." His voice took on its raspy lilt; the one that shattered through me, testing my balance.

"So if you don't want me to lose my job, why do you keep doing," I waved at him, "that? Being so damn sexy, seducing me, coercing me into bed—"

He growled. "I never coerced you; you consented to all of it."

"I did, I did." I dragged a hand down my face, forgetting about my makeup; frankly, not caring much about it. "I'm not denying that. But you started this, and I couldn't resist, and it just kept going and going and...here we are."

"Here we are?" He crossed his arms, his once open, relaxed posture turning stiff. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I swallowed, a lingering aroma of rosé and champagne on my tongue, "that you were supposed to be just a quick fuck, a one-night-stand to loosen me up, and now...it's moved beyond that. Now I'm sneaking around with you because you're so alluring, you're such a good man, and I...like you. And it's a problem."

His body didn't react to my words, but his face did. His lips parted , his eyes widened, he grew pale. "What?"

"It's a problem," I repeated, wondering if he genuinely hadn't heard me properly. "You? Me? No. We can't be together, that's obvious. And I don't think you'd want that, anyway. Little me, the L.A. wedding planner you fucked a few nights before your sister's wedding? Nah. Why would you like me back? I get it," I scrunched my nose, "I get your coldness and your moodiness, I do. You want my body, not my heart, and it's hard to be clear on that with some women. But not me. You don't have to have that speech with me. We're good."

He was silent for a spell, staring at me, processing my words. I kept my mouth shut, afraid I'd say too much and dig myself into a deeper hole than the one I'd already fallen in.

I'd said it out loud—I like you—and in a matter of minutes he'd crash through the door and lock himself in his room to avoid me.

And he was right. I'd been too blunt, too quick. It was physical, all of it, and any feelings I'd experienced were lust, I understood that now. Looking at him, at his statuesque stillness, his mouth moving as he searched for something to say, I figured it out.

Once a one-night-stand, always a one-night-stand.

"First off," he said suddenly, his voice rough, "who said we couldn't be together?"

I blinked at him, too stunned to translate my thoughts into words. "Huh?"

"Also," he straightened up, towering over me, "what makes you think you can tell me what I do or don't want?"

"Axel," I said, cocking my head. "I never said—"

"—but you did. You deduced that based on who you are, what you do, and how we met, that I wouldn't be interested in you that way." He snorted. "You say you like me, but you don't know the first thing about me aside from what you've read in the news and what you found out during this trip. No clue what I even looked like. You had no clue who I was that night, when we first met. And you didn't want to know, remember? No names, no identities."

I nodded, because while I hated to admit it, he was right; there was no point disagreeing. "I didn't want to be distracted. This gig...it's much too important to me. You ended up being more than I bargained for, and I didn't want anything else to develop between us, and had I known who you were earlier..."

"You wouldn't have slept with me. But you still wanted to; the handsome stranger in business attire, the giant gold watch, the polished shoes, yeah? Because...what was it you said? Something about needing to let loose? Yeah," he groaned, "but you didn't take into consideration that maybe I wanted you to know who I was. That I wanted true consent from you; consent to sleep with your...well, your employer, technically."

I grimaced. "You said you were fine with it. A French adventure, to quote you, if I remember correctly."

"Right," he took a step back, "because I knew who you were and meeting you in person...I was infatuated. Impressed. Your picture on the firm's website didn't do you justice, and I knew I had to spend time with this incredible woman who'd been dealing with my sister for months. I really did just want a drink with you, Vivienne. Not sex. You're the one who was under the impression I'd approached you to get your clothes off. And maybe I came on too strong when I spoke with you in the lobby—who knows? I'm a flirtatious man and have been told my natural voice is misleading."

"Wait..." I couldn't move. "You weren't trying to hook up with me?"

"I wasn't. Not that you weren't incredibly attractive, and still are." Axel shook his head, with another stride backwards, closer to the door. "I wanted to chat with Vivienne Clarke, from L.A. Love Wedding Planners. Because I've known about you for a long, long time. Who do you think chose you for this wedding? Called your company and demanded you take care of my sister? Did you think I went into this without doing my research?"

Something erupted inside my gut, and I clutched at it, ready to topple over. A misunderstanding—this whole time, Axel was trying to get to know me, and I'd assumed that, like most men, he'd only wanted sex.

"I don't know...what to say." I sucked my lips in, wetting them, shifting my weight. "Axel, I'm sorry, I—"

"—don't bother." He frowned, averting his gaze. "I figured I should clear the air before tomorrow, when you leave. Since you keep assuming I'm after only one thing; I wanted to assure you you're dead wrong about me."

He spun and stormed to the door, wrenching it open with such force that I shuddered, jumping as it slammed.

He was miffed; no, pissed. And it was my fault. My fault for putting him into the same box that I put most men: lustful, penis-brain dudes who thirsted for sex and nothing more.

Having watched Axel during this wedding process, I should have known. I should have seen he wasn't anything like other men I'd been acquainted with, dated, slept with.

And I'd cost myself the potential to find out who he was, deep down, because when Axel Levine walked out, he walked out. I doubted I'd see him again after that night.

It broke my heart.

☼☼☼