After a session of hyperventilating on the balcony, I mustered the courage to re-enter the building. Inside, a whoosh of warm air hit my face, and I sensed my skin heating, my trembling limbs regaining feeling.

Axel Levine not only knew who I was the night we slept together, but he'd been wanting to meet me in person. He knew what I looked like, my curriculum, my skills, because he'd researched me. He'd specifically requested my services from my firm.

So that was why my bosses had put me on the gig. Not because of my French background, but because the rich CEO of Levine Luxury Group had demanded that I handle his baby sister's wedding.

A bout of dizziness had me hunching against the wall, another round of hyperventilating threatening to overtake me. I breathed in, out, in, out, then rushed to the nearest bathroom to run some cold water over my forehead.

Staring at myself in the mirror, aghast, confused, in disbelief, I fought the urge to curl into a ball and cry. There'd be no sex with Axel that night, that I knew for certain.

But that wasn't what caught me in the feels; the sex was a secondary, blissful event that I'd enjoyed, but it wasn't the most important to me. Axel was important; the way he'd reminded me that I had a heart, and it might beat for someone else. The way he'd restored my faith in men, especially wealthy ones, and showed me that I'd been wrong, so wrong about him. The way he'd allured me with his body, but kept me interested with his mind, his behavior.

It was over. I'd blown it all by assuming the worst, when in truth there might have been a chance for us to experience more than a sexual relationship. Not that I was ready for that, but to have the option...

But no, it was gone. I'd spoken my mind, I'd vexed him, and there was no turning back.

"Enough," I said to my reflection, shaking myself as my eyes began to fill with tears. "No crying, not here, not over this." I forced a smile and reined my emotions in so I could return to the ballroom to get back to work.

Because that was my true purpose, here: Violet's wedding. Reece's wedding. A room loaded with drunken guests to check on, cake to eat, music to listen and dance to, favors to distribute. Clean-up to organize, checks to oversee.

Yet when I re-immersed myself into the space, all I could do was search the room—for him. I scanned every face in the vicinity, peering towards dark corners where he might be brooding, examining every chair and sofa for a tall, hunky, redheaded man nursing a drink and glaring at anyone who dared approach him.

But he wasn't there. Either he'd blended in too well—which I doubted, hot as he was, the attraction dripping off of him in noxious waves, the luxury of his outfit and his poise impossible to miss—or he'd taken off, needing space from the festivities.

Had I wounded him that deeply? Or was he tired of the loud guests, the thumping music, the excess of food?

After verifying that everything was in order—the DJ still had many songs to go through, there were sufficient bottles of wine and beer, plenty of food for the volunteers—I snagged another glass of rosé and settled in a corner where I could observe everything from a distance.

Violet and Reece were dancing, looking longingly in each other's eyes. Estelle was in deep debate with a celebrity I didn't know the name of. Mollie and Harvey laughed at something while standing at the edge of the dancefloor. The groomsmen were doing silly dances, cheered on by the bridesmaids. Maisie sulked, a glass of red wine tipped near her lips as she glowered at anyone she made eye-contact with.

I had to admit; I was reassured to see Maisie. If she'd been gone, too, I might have assumed she'd succeeded in reeling Axel in. Angry as he'd been when he stormed off the balcony, who knew what he could be up to? He might have wanted a round of furious sex to get me off his mind. Or maybe it'd be some sick game, some sick way of tormenting me for making assumptions about him.

I cringed, bringing my cup to my lips. Revenge sex? No, that wasn't Axel's style, not the Axel that I thought I'd gotten to know, at least. He'd made it quite evident that Maisie was an attention-grabbing jerk, and he wasn't interested.

Still...I couldn't help picturing them sneaking off together, Axel scowling at me as he drew Maisie into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. As his hands wandered down her body, slipping under her dress, and pleasuring her the same way he'd pleasured me.

I downed the rest of my drink, watching the doors, waiting for them to open and for Axel to appear. Smiling, rushing up to me, apologizing for being so harsh, for not giving me an opportunity to explain. Or grimacing, grumpy, exhausted, annoyed. I'd take Axel with any emotion, at that point, as long as he pranced back into the room, and I was able to look at him one last time.

I wasn't positive he'd be at the brunch tomorrow morning, that he'd accept being in the same space as me after our debacle on the balcony. Tonight might have been my final moment getting a glimpse of that gorgeous face, those chocolaty eyes, and reminiscing over the delicious body under his suit.

I started towards the door, thinking of going up to his room—that was where he'd be, right? Moping, having a cup from his private stash of champagne, staring out the window at the waves crashing over the beach. Or sleeping off the night and the events and the emotions, cozy in his plush covers, his head drowning in the silky pillow.

Or maybe he wasn't upstairs at all; maybe he'd stalked over to the helicopter and steered it into St. Tropez so he could distance himself from everything.

It dawned on me then that he'd been correct—I didn't know him. I had no clue what he was feeling, how he'd deal with whatever was on his mind. Was he angry with me? Disappointed? Or had he already moved on to something, someone else?

As much as I wanted to find him, say I was sorry, resume the conversation with a clear head, I knew what would happen if I did locate him. With our track record, we'd end up stripping and fucking, forgoing the discussion we needed to have and giving in to our cravings.

More sex would lead to more complications, more confusion, more feelings that I was already struggling to ignore.

I yawned; a yawn so long and heavy that it made my entire body quake.

"Whoa," said Chi, sidling up to me near one of the buffet tables. "Do you need a nap?"

"I need a full night's sleep," I said, plucking my clipboard from where I'd deposited it. Checkmarks were next to every task, and as I scanned the room, everyone seemed fine. Drunk, happy, having fun.

"Hey," Chi rubbed my upper back, "you should go get that sleep, huh? I can take over from here, close things down. Where's Axel?"

I scoffed. "Who the fuck knows?" I massaged the space between my eyebrows. "We...had a disagreement, and he rushed off, I'm not sure where."

Chi blinked. "A disagreement that puts our final paycheck in danger?"

"No." I deflated, unleashing a monumental breath, releasing all the air I'd been holding in my lungs as if it would keep me alive, awake. "I don't think so. It was personal, not relating to the wedding. A disagreement that puts my mental health in danger."

"Fine." Chi pressed their hand to my arm, gently nudging me away. "Then go sleep off whatever this situation is. I'll handle the rest, and I'll see you in the morning for brunch, okay?"

Nodding and swallowing another yawn, I left my clipboard in Chi's care and sauntered towards the bride and groom, to say goodnight. They were so far past drunk that they barely registered who I was, squeezing me tight in their arms and slurring sweet thank-you's, their liquor breaths making me cringe.

I waved at a few more guests before finding myself alone out in the hallway. On instinct, I glanced towards the stairs leading up to the third floor, half-tempted to creep up and hunt around for Axel.

I opted against it; tonight, I needed to sleep in my own hotel room bed, not tangled up in Axel's sheets, my legs wrapped around his.

Down the service steps, down the creepily dark corridor towards my room, I hugged herself, a chilly breeze coursing through the building. Inside my room, I stood before the TV commode where, hours before, Axel had lugged me onto the shiny surface and stuck his tongue between my legs.

With a shock of trembles down my arms, I fought to erase the image from my mind as I removed my makeup.

It was better this way. Being with Axel now, illegally, was too risky, and against my rules. Being with him after? It'd lead to a scandal, a catastrophe. We came from completely different backgrounds. Tabloids would call me a leech, a money-hungry wedding planner who'd latched onto him for fame and fortune. They wouldn't believe that we'd met by accident and that I had no interest in his wealth.

He was based in New York City, anyway. He lived a lavish lifestyle I'd never keep up with; a workaholic who attended celebrity galas and fancy charities, never posing for pictures, always lingering in the background to people-watch. But I was a vivacious, social-butterfly west-coast girl, addicted to Los Angeles and its treasures, living from paycheck to paycheck and partying in the lower-end bars to save money. I'd never felt comfortable in luxurious settings. Such places and venues were one of the reasons Olivia and I had ended our relationship.

Olivia.

I tugged a brush through my hair as I thought of my social ladder climbing ex. Though she'd come from wealth, Olivia refused to use her family's money to make a name for herself. She was a self-starter, a hard worker who'd battled her way to the top, becoming one of the richest, most fulfilled makeup artists and brand owners in the country. And it was her ruthless drive, her desire for recognition that drew her and I apart.

Now here I was, lusting after yet another rich individual, one whose drive and reach was bigger, on an international scale. Olivia was approaching millionaire status; Axel was a billionaire.

"Why do I keep getting attracted to the rich ones that shouldn't give a shit about me?" I scrubbed some moisturizer onto my tired skin and removed my clothes to throw on a pair of silky shorts and a tank top. "Why do they keep getting attracted to me?"

I had nothing to offer people of this caliber. Though I was well-behaved, I didn't navigate the circles they did, didn't know the manners, the etiquette of those in the upper tier of wealth. If Axel and I could work out, somehow, I'd be lost in his world, and he'd be hounded with attention in mine.

It couldn't, it wouldn't work. And maybe that was why he'd stomped off earlier. He'd realized it. He'd known I was right, that he wasn't interested, in truth. I'd only opened his eyes with a bigger slap than he'd expected.

I flipped the lights off and hugged my pillow before stuffing my face into the soft sheets. I couldn't help my mind as it floated off into a dreamland where I was with Axel. Where he led me into lustrous ballrooms, and I dazzled the crowd, sporting a ballgown that'd be hailed as the dress of the year in magazines. This was a dream-world where he flew me across the country, jet-setting to tropical venues he owned for a quick weekend of relaxation.

And of course, in this scenario, this was a life where I didn't have to work another day, where wedding planning could be something I'd do for fun.

This slice of life I never thought I'd access—I'd been close, so close to experiencing it, but I'd fucked it up by being too blunt. This could have been a life with a man who was real, with a kind, good heart, and who spent his money wisely instead of throwing it out on whatever luxury he deemed worthy of his taste.

"Goodbye, Axel," I whispered into the cushion, finally letting out the tears I'd been holding in since he turned his back on me. "I'm sorry."

I wasn't sure if I was saying sorry to him or to myself.

☼☼☼