Having that honor taken away was the last thing that concerned Daisy. She had a really bad feeling about this, but it wouldn’t do any good to share that with Isabella. Daisy knew without a doubt she wouldn’t be able to change her stubborn best friend’s mind.

“Haven is Haven. She’ll be back to her old self soon. As for me—I’m excited for you.” She smiled at her best friend. “When y’all come back, I’ll throw you the biggest party Holland Springs has ever seen.”

Laughing, Isabella raced around the island and gave Daisy a tight hug, then released her. “That’s sweet, but we all know that our resident movie star’s wedding is going to blow all our minds.”

Thinking about what the wedding planner had shared with her, Daisy nodded. “Fireworks and one of the big name pop acts and that’s only for the rehearsal dinner. The ceremony itself will be insanely over-the-top.”

“You’ll be famous, once all those celebrities taste your amazing food.” Isabella tilted her head to one side, studying Daisy until she flushed. “Anything I can do to help you with the insurance stuff?”

Eyes rounding, Daisy said, “Who told you?”

“Please.” Isabella waved a hand in the air. “That stupid letter has been on your desk for days, and you drove all the way to Wilson last week. On a Thursday—that’s restocking day and you never veer from schedule.”

Exhaling, the tightness in her chest eased a little. “My lawyer is confident we can work something out that’s manageable for me.”

“I’m sure catering the Wedding of the Century doesn’t hurt things either.”

Well, it wouldn’t not hurt things. “Exactly. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Peter H. Mitchell-to-be, I have celebrity clients to impress.” Daisy glanced at the clock on her oven. “Unusually late clients. Christian and Zoe are always on time. Maybe I should text—“

Her phone vibrated and Isabella snagged it from the island, then handed it to her with a wink. “Must have known you were talking about her.”

Zoe: Unexpected visitor. We’ll be thirty minutes late.  Is that okay?

Daisy: See you in thirty.  Or we can reschedule. I’m flexible.

Well, this week Daisy was, because she didn’t have any clients scheduled. In fact, she had lightened her workload considerably since she’d agreed to go into business with Isabella. Something that now made her panic.

Zoe: We’ll be there in thirty. Thank you. Xo

“Late, right?” Isabella got a paper plate from one of the cabinets and loaded it up. “This will make a great lunch.”

“Nature of the beast.” Realizing what she was implying, Daisy hastily added, “Not that Zoe’s a bridezilla. She’s the exact opposite. Aunt Leah, however…”

“No need to explain, I’ve been a passenger on that crazy train before,” Isabella said around a sandwich as she headed to the door. “Best thing ever when Zoe and my brother decided not to get married. Although, I wouldn’t have minded having Zoe as my sister-in-law, but her mom…”

“Aunt Leah’s not all bad,” Daisy protested weakly, but she knew the truth. The woman was exacting, demanding, and opinionated. Something Daisy had a hard time stomaching. However, Aunt Leah had been Daisy’s mother’s best friend growing up and had married Daisy’s uncle. Family had to stick with family. “She’s…herself.”

“And so are you, which she should be thankful for. Wish me luck and say hello to Jules for me.”

“I will. Good luck!” Furrowing her brows, Daisy filled up a glass pitcher with ice and water, and then set it on the island. “Wait, what for?”

“Peter and I are heading to his grandparents’ place up in Martha’s Vineyard for an engagement party. Supposedly, the President has been invited,” she said, clearly teasing. Peter and Isabella had been engaged for three months. His family owned a national baseball team, not to mention the ears of politicians.

Daisy grinned. She liked Peter, for the most part. His twenty-two-year-old widowed stepmother, not so much. That tart was always giving Peter looks, and sometimes, she thought Peter gave them right back. It was a sore subject for Isabella, so Daisy and Haven had agreed to stop bringing it up and instead concentrate on being happy for their best friend.

“Look at you, Miss High Society. Sure you’ll be able to mingle with the commoners when you get back?” she asked, wiggling her brows.

“Whatever. See you in a few days.” Isabella blew her a kiss. “Are we still on for dinner, before the silent auction?”

“Yep.”

After Isabella left, Daisy moved to her desk again and sat down. Her email notification pinged and she enlarged the tab.

Grin transforming into a full on smile, she opened the email from her Englishman.

Daisy,

I won’t be able to place my usual order. I’m out of town on business. Actually, it’s family stuff. Bloody, boring family business stuff. I hope to have all this behind me within the next two weeks, so that you and I can concentrate on other things.

How are things with you? Everything sorted with your mother’s latest bill, yet? Sure I can’t order ONE BILLION CUPCAKES to solve all of your problems, and then we can run off together into the sunset?

Yours,

Jules

She grabbed her phone and began to text him.

Daisy: I don’t think they make enough sunscreen to protect our skin if we did that. ;)

Jules: Har, har. Sorry about the lack of order this week and the next.

Daisy: You think I only talk to you for your business?

Jules: Sometimes. ;)

Daisy: Fine, then in order for me to continue talking to you, you have to order ONE BILLION of them.

Jules: I really could, you know.

Daisy: You and Dr. Evil.

Jules: A fair comparison. Can you see my pinky finger held just so? Perhaps I’ll get my mini-me to take a selfie.

Daisy: Are we really ready for pictures? Gosh, after nine months, we might be moving too quickly. ;)

She was halfway joking. In all this time, she’d never seen him, not even on Facebook. Not that that was odd. Most guys she knew didn’t have an account, or either used it sparingly. Heck she barely had time for her personal page and devoted most of her time to The Sweet Spot’s page.

Jules: It wouldn’t do my or your imagination justice. I already know you’re a glorious creature.

She twisted her lips. He’d totally sidestepped that one.

Daisy: Ha! Flatterer. Send me your celebrity look-alike instead. Then I’ll send you mine.

For a few minutes, Jules didn’t reply and she wondered if she’d said something wrong. Maybe he didn’t like being compared to a guy with a really bad past. Or—

Jules: How about him?

She opened the attachment and laughed.

Daisy: You’re hilarious. I can’t be lusting after my cousin’s husband.

Jules: What about his twin brother? She’s not married to him, is she?

Daisy: Seriously? His twin brother’s nice looking enough, I guess.

Jules: Which means you think he’s handsome.

Daisy: Does not!

Jules: Daisy.

Daisy: Okay, so I find him, and not his twin brother, who’s married to my cousin, attractive. Sue me. I swear, Jules, if you ever tell anyone, I’ll strangle you through the screen.

Jules: Just attractive? Be honest.

Daisy: Fine. I think he’s hot. Happy?

Jules: You have no idea. Where’s my picture?

Daisy: I don’t think I look like anyone famous…

Jules: If pictures make you uncomfortable, that’s okay. I can wait.

Daisy: You’re sweet, and yes, I’d rather wait. What if what we look like doesn’t do it for each other?

Jules: What if they did?

Daisy: I’m a chicken. Anyway, I’m sorry that you have bloody boring family business stuff. Sure I can’t send some cupcakes to where you’ll be going?

Jules: Like I said, I can wait. And I’m positive. But seriously, Daisy, is there anything that can be done?

Daisy: Don’t worry. It will all work out for the best.

After typing out their goodbyes, she leaned back in her office chair. The smile evaporated from her face as she closed her eyes.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered.

Chapter Seven

“Consider hiring a butler,” Sebastian said as he stepped inside his twin’s home and followed Christian down the hall. “I had to wait an inordinate amount of time for you to answer the door.”

His brother stopped mid-stride and turned to face him. “Do you actually mean the things that come out of your mouth?”

He didn’t in fact, but a lifetime of habits was hard to break. A lifetime of being on the defensive and striking first lay like a minefield between Sebastian and his goal.

At the moment, his goal was to be reinstated as President so life could resume as normal, with work that defined who he was. Or so he reminded himself before he had boarded one of Romanov Industries jets last night. Again, during his brief stay in New York City while he drank alone and stared out at the skyline, wishing he had Daisy with him, sharing the view. And yet again on the limo ride over and then a fourth time before knocking on his brother’s front door and waiting.

Affecting a bored tone, he said, “Merely trying to help.”

“Next time, try starting out with, ‘Hullo, Christian.’ or ‘A’right mate?’ Things of that nature.” Christian moved to the living room and sat down. “You know, but for the occasional text, I haven’t heard from you since our father’s timely death. Thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Never. Despite Vladimir’s best effort to teach Sebastian that he ought not miss Christian, or to even think about his twin. Their father was truly the most evil man to have roamed the planet.

“Missed me, have you?” Sebastian asked, glancing around. The room was quite cozy and warm, with pictures of family members everywhere. Surprisingly enough, several included him, though they weren’t recent. In fact, they were of when he and Christian had been little, two or three years old at the most.

“Like a toothache,” his brother said in a cheerful tone that set Sebastian’s teeth on edge.

Sebastian wandered to the fireplace, picked up a pirate-themed PEZ dispenser, and examined it. How long would his brother go on collecting these? With a shake of his head, he replaced the candy dispenser.

“See anything you like?”

“Only if I were eight and female.” Oh, that was bleeding brilliant. Here to make nice and he not only complained about time frames, but insults his brother’s wife in the process.

Sebastian thrust his hands into his coat pockets and palmed the gift he’d brought for Christian in one of them. He really should apologize to his brother.

As he was about to do just that, Christian shot him two fingers. “Sod off, Sebastian.”

“Wit at its finest,” he snapped, falling into their normal routine of bickering. “You are bloody brilliant.”

Christian tapped his fingers on his thigh, a sign he was irritated as hell. “Why are you here?”

Sebastian smirked. Some things, like irritating one’s little brother, actually came naturally to him. “Wanted to make sure the in-laws hadn’t carted you off to the middle of nowhere and left you for dead…y’all.”

“You sound like a blithering idiot.”

“I was pretending to be you,” Sebastian murmured. Casually, he placed an arm on the mantle and leaned against it, letting the Pez dispenser slide off his palm and onto the mantle.

“English, successful, handsome, and adored by millions? Don’t kid yourself, because right now you’re batting one for four,” Christian shot back, sounding more American than ever. “I’ve read the London papers. The Board voted you out as President, because of—and I quote—your unpredictable behavior and unsettling financial schemes were making shareholders nervous. So you’re here to make nice with me, look like a bloke who wants to sort out things with his family, all the while hoping the Board votes you back in. Predictable.”

“Are you suggesting I be more like you? Perhaps a quickie Vegas wedding to make them forget my unpredictable behavior and unsettling financial schemes?” Sebastian mocked.

“Couldn’t hurt.”

Sebastian rubbed his chin. “Have you anyone in mind? Liam suggested Kate, but we all know that’s not going to happen. Ever,” he said. “Maybe a relative of your wife’s is in desperate financial trouble.” Give me the excuse I need, he silently commanded, though I don’t deserve it.

“Holy shit!” His brother’s pale blue eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

“Quite.” He wouldn’t be here if he weren’t.

“You’re mad.”

Before he could reply, his brother’s wife, Zoe, rushed into the room. Coins jingled on the hem of her skirt. “I’m ready to go.” Brows furrowing, she glanced from Christian to Sebastian, then back at Christian again. “Ah…”

“Can’t tell us apart, love?” Christian asked as he rose to his feet and crossed the room, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I’m wounded.”

“Poor thing.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him back.

Feeling a bit awkward standing there, Sebastian adjusted his cufflinks. Though truth be told, he was massively happy for his brother.

After being the black sheep of the family for as long as their father was alive, Christian deserved someone who loved him unconditionally. Something Sebastian had failed to do. Weren’t brothers supposed to support each other? He hadn’t a clue, because once their mother left, Vladimir did everything in his power to pit Christian and Sebastian against each other. Successfully.