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grandiose oak doors, the scary wedding coordinator—I’ve yet to find out her name—grabs my elbow and pulls me up next to her. She remains silent as she listens to someone speaking in her earpiece and then gives me a nod.
    “You’re up next, fill-in,” she barks without looking over at me. Apparently, she didn’t bother learning my name either. “Remember, pause for a few seconds after entering for pictures, then slow and steady steps. Keep your vision forward and a smile on your face. There’s an X marked on the ground where you’re to stand. The bride will hand you her bouquet to hold during the vows, and I hope to God you’ve got the ring.”
    I lift my hand in front of her face and wiggle my ring-laden thumb. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got the shackle of dominance right here.”
    Sighing with frustration, she pinches the bridge of her nose and looks down at her clipboard. My sense of humor is obviously too much for her, so I ignore her. I don’t waste my time dealing with people who have something stuck up their ass.
    Instead, I twist around to get one more look at Emilia in her stunning white gown, embellished with shimmering blue and silver crystals around the low-V neckline and along the bottom hem. Standing next to her dad—who’s a handsome older version of Gabe—her face radiates with anticipation and excitement. She’s the epitome of pure happiness.
    “Good luck, sweetie. I’ll see you down there.” My smile is so big, I’m sure my eyes are crinkling around the edges. Being around joyful people is contagious. And seeing her right now warms me to the core.
    Then, before she can respond or I can add anything else, I’m tugged forward by the arm again. “Showtime, fill-in,” crabby coordinator whispers as she opens the door and gives me a small shove inside.
    Flashes go off as I enter, the over-the-top, whimsical décor from the lobby spilling over into the magnificent ballroom, and I pause like I was instructed . Holy shitballs. There’s got to be like five hundred people here, maybe even a thousand. I have no idea. It’s a fucking lot . . . however many that is.
    My gaze quickly sweeps over the sea of faces in the crowd until it lands on the one I’m looking for, standing directly to the left of the groom in front of the vine trellis: Mr. James Levi. Oh, hell yes. Come to momma, big boy.
    When our eyes meet, he cocks his head slightly to the side, confused for a split-second before the flash of recognition lights up his face. He was obviously unaware of my substantial upgrade in the wedding hierarchy, jumping from common attendee to the bride’s right-hand-gal, but once he realizes who I am, he reacts. A subtle lick of his lips. A faint flare of his nostrils. Lust glazing over his eyes. Hands shifting to cover his crotch. The edges of my mouth curl upward in an impish grin as a shot of adrenaline floods my veins. Instinctively, I know playing with this one is going to be fun—my favorite kind of fun.
    Rolling my shoulders back and tilting my chin up, I slowly advance forward down the center aisle, our gazes locked the entire time. I’m not sure I could pull my eyes away if I wanted to. There’s something about him, something other than his drop-dead-gorgeous looks, that I find captivating. Enchanting. I can practically hear his every thought by simply staring into the depths of his sparkling baby blues, which is equally freaky as it is cool.
    Forced to look away from him when I reach the end of the walkway, I locate my X on the ground next to the other bridesmaid, Meghan, and focus on where I just came from for Emilia to make her appearance. The crowd rises to their feet as the music changes to an instrumental selection that I can only guess is from the Alice in Wonderland soundtrack, since it’s most definitely not “Here Comes the Bride.”
    An audible gasp, followed by the clicking sound of cameras all over the room, can be heard as the doors open, revealing the stunning bride and her