Dedication

This one is for my readers.

I appreciate every kind message, every shout-out, every emoji-filled review.

Thank you for choosing to spend time in my fictional worlds; I’m honored.

Chapter One

The Cartwright Hotel

Washington, DC

Solange

There’s only one rational explanation for what’s happening in this stairwell: I’m cursed.

Yes, I’m being dramatic. Yes, the drama’s guaranteed to escalate from here.

I’m in this predicament because my cousin Natalia, a cosmetologist by trade, called me at the last minute and begged for my help with, as she put it, “providing white-glove makeup services” for a wedding at the Cartwright. What even is that?

My other cousin Lina, the wedding coordinator for this swanky boutique hotel, has instructed me to keep a low profile. She would never admit this, but I’d bet money she’s worried that my alarmingly effective most-men-are-trash pheromones will change the outcome of this highly anticipated affair.

So fine. I’m happy to hand Natalia makeup brushes or wipes or whatever and keep out of sight. Except she assigned me an additional duty—asking for a broom and a dustpan—and I figured I could snag a few extra vials of courtesy moisturizer for my ashy hands if I just went down to housekeeping myself.

Damn my cheap ass to hell.

I should have purchased the lotion from the hotel spa and continued on my clueless way. Instead, I’m now rooted to the landing between the second and third floors, intruding on a private moment between the bride and a man who isn’t the groom.

“You don’t love him,” the man says, his blue eyes overly bright and his tie askew. Then he reaches up to caress her face.

The bride, a vision worthy of any wedding magazine layout, steps back, easily dodging his attempt to touch her. “I never said I did.”

Good Lord. She’s not even denying the accusation? If my mother were here, she’d gasp, place a hand across her forehead, and say, “Que escândalo!” She’d be right too. Because this? This is an epic scandal.

“Then don’t do it,” the man urges. “You’ll regret this for the rest of your life.”

“Give me another reason not to go through with it. One that counts.”

He gestures around them. “Where the hell is all of this coming from, Ella?”

She paces in the small space, twisting her perfectly manicured hands and mumbling incoherently, her face scrunched up in distress. Several beats later, she stills and takes a steadying breath. “I’m in love with you, Tyler. The question is, are you finally ready to admit your feelings for me?”

Holy shit. Is she serious?

Not-the-groom closes his eyes and says nothing, giving her the answer she wasn’t hoping for.