ELENA

I’ve had four engagements, worn four wedding dresses, and waited in four churches. Each time, the groom never showed up.

After the fourth time, I stopped believing in love.

"Elena, you have a client!" Maya ran into my office and almost knocked over my fabric samples.

I didn't look up. "Tell them I'm busy."

"But you're eating old Chinese food and doing nothing."

"Exactly. I'm busy."

Maya walked over and took the food from my hands. "This client is rich. Like really rich. His suit probably costs more than my car."

That got my attention. Rich meant money. Money meant I could pay off my debt. The huge debt from four weddings that never happened but I still had to pay for.

"Fine." I stood up and fixed my skirt. "Send him in."

Maya smiled and left. I shoved the food in my desk and checked my phone. My hair was messy, my makeup was simple, and I looked exactly like what I was, a twenty-nine-year-old wedding planner who didn't believe in love anymore.

The door opened and the most beautiful man I'd ever seen walked in.

Damn it.

He was tall, really tall, maybe six-three or more with perfect hair and blue-grey eyes that looked right through you. And that suit Maya was right about, it probably cost more than my car and hers combined.

"Ms. Rossi?" His voice was husky.

"That's me." I pointed to the chair. "Please sit."

He sat down and everything about him screamed control - how he sat, how he looked at my messy office, how his eyes came back to me.

"I'm Dominic Ashford," he said. "I need to hire you."

"Obviously." I got my consultation form. "What kind of wedding are we talking about?"

"The fake kind."

I looked up. "What?"

"I need you to plan a wedding in three weeks to a woman I don't really know for my dying grandmother."

Okay, so he was crazy, rich and crazy.

"Let me understand," I said slowly. "You want me to plan a fake wedding in three weeks to trick your dying grandmother?"

"Yes."

"That's..." I stopped. What was the nice word for insane "That's weird."

"I'll pay whatever you want."

Money, right, that was the important part.

I sat back. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do all this? Why not just tell your grandmother the truth?"

He tightened his face. "Because she's dying and her last wish is to see me married. I won't let her down."

Something in his voice sounded painful and I knew that feeling.

"Who's the bride?" I asked.

"An actress friend who agreed to do it for money. The wedding just needs to look real - three hundred guests, my family, the press."

"The press?"

"I'm a public figure. Ashford Hotels, you know it?"

I did - big hotel company, billionaire family, always in the news.

"This is a bad idea," I told him.

"I know."

"It could go wrong."

"I know."

"Your grandmother could find out and be more upset."

"I'll take that chance."

We stared at each other and he wasn't going to change his mind. And I needed this job, I needed the money badly.

"My price is fifty thousand," I said.

"Done."

I blinked. "You didn't even argue."

"Should I?"

"No, just..." I shook my head. "Rich people are strange."

"So I've heard."

I pulled out a contract and started writing. While I wrote, I could feel him watching me and it made me so nervous.

"Can I ask something?" he said.

"Sure."