Preparations and my office

Amelia’s POV

I turned over, pulling my duvet back to block the chilly wind coming in through the open window. I slept through the night, but I was still tired. The devastation of yesterday was unbearable.

The doorbell rang all over the house, but since Chloe was taking care of our guests, I pushed the thought from my mind. The doorbell rang once more, but no one answered. It rang again. "Chloe?" I called for her, her name resonating throughout my room, but there was no response, so I tried again.

I sighed and wearily sat up, wondering about Chloe and the person at the door. "Where on earth is she?" I whispered to myself. Upon surveying the house, I noticed indications of no habitation. Dad left for work, Scar went to school, and I seem to recall that my mother had plans to go to brunch with some friends. But where is Chloe?

Andrew's secretary reluctantly opened the door, and as soon as it was open, her eyes met mine. There stood a smartly dressed woman behind her. The woman gave a nonchalant roll of her eyes before turning her head to look at the floor. She has a problem with me, but I don't believe I've ever met her before. The secretary for Andrew cleared her throat.

"Mr. Baker has sent me here."

"Well, what does Mr. High and Mighty demand of me now?"

"This is Isabella Nelson. She's here to guide you through the wedding planning for the next few days. Mr. Baker has requested that you spend the day with Ms. Nelson, now we must get started immediately if we want to meet the deadline of the twenty-fourth..."

I buried my hands in my hair and sobbed, "The twenty-fourth?! What happened to about a week? That's three days from now!"

I snorted in response to Andrew's statement, "Well, you better get your act together, his words, not mine. It's time I get back to the office; I'll leave Isabella with you." Andrew's secretary Emily left shortly after that. I smiled as broadly as I could and extended a hand.

I chuckled, but deep down, I was sorry. "Hello Ms. Nelson, I'm Amelia Smith. I'm sorry you're stuck with me." Getting me all dressed up was going to be a very difficult task.

She smiled back at me and made a very positive comment. "Please, just call me Isabella and I'm sure you're wonderful."

I led her into the living room, where I sat her down. Trying to be a great host, I said, "Do you need anything to drink? We have soft drinks, tea, coffee, and water."

"Oh, no thank you."

"Well if you change your mind it's in the fridge down the hall or feel free to ask. Anyway, I'm going to take a quick shower and change into something... presentable. I'll be back shortly." I said before flashing a brief grin. With a smile of her own, she nodded, and I headed back to my room. There is still a part of me that wonders where Chloe might be.

*****

I could never have imagined myself in this kind of situation. Planning a wedding was not an easy task, to be honest. There were numerous responsibilities to attend to, and organizing a formal society wedding in a mere three days was a demanding task. A great deal. I've always thought of myself as giving the wedding planner all the work. I'll let her know my preferences, attend my dress fitting, and eventually show up on the wedding day, but sadly, powerful Andrew decided it would be best to involve me in every step of the process.

Although he may have believed he was helping me, it's obvious he wasn't. I was nearly exhausted after scheduling the hall for the precise wedding date, going shopping for a few items, meeting with the catering team responsible for the meals, and scheduling the melody team for that day. It seemed that the printing of the invitation cards had already been taken care of. I could hear Isabella and the store clerk arguing over how I looked in various wedding gowns as I tried them on. To be honest, I couldn't have cared less about how I appeared in any of them. It didn't seem right to me to dress up for something I wasn't passionate about. Isabella insisted that we continue after we had begged for forgiveness for several hours. Though I'm sure she's afraid of Andrew, she won't acknowledge this to me. She refused to acknowledge how exhausted she was from the workday, even though I could see it.

I begged as I tried on the next shoe, "How close are we to being done today? Please let's go home, rest, and we'll continue tomorrow." She insisted that I wear something elegant even though my feet were killing me. She ignored my objections and continued to list the tasks we needed to complete, even though I genuinely believed we were done.

"We're getting there, we still need to head to the cake shop, get a makeup artist, and choose your hairstyle."

My eyes were swollen beyond their natural limits. "You've got to be kidding me!" I exclaimed, shaking my head in disbelief as I stood up.

I told her as I grabbed my bag and made my way to the door, "That's it! I'm sorry but I can't do this. I tried but this isn't me. I trust you so I'll leave the rest to you."

She hurried to catch up with me, saying, "Amelia! Amelia, please! These are orders from Mr. Baker!"

In an attempt to persuade me, she said, "After today, there are only two days until the wedding! We have no choice but to rush everything."

I told her as I hurriedly left, refusing to hear anything more she had to say. "My measurements have been taken, and I've already chosen my style. You can do this. You do your job well. I really need to go. Thank you, Isabella." Isabella, poor thing. Though I couldn't, I wish I could have saved her.

I hurriedly got into my car, turned it on, and drove to my small office. I was already halfway through the day, which meant I was running late for work and behind schedule.

I feel a surge of pride rising within me as I approach my one-story building. I saved money for this place a year ago while working for my dad. Along with my friend, I build and restore furniture. To be honest, I think this is my dream job.

My friend and co-owner, Avery, said, "Hey Amelia, you're late... again."

I went into the bathroom to change into my work clothes after saying, "You don't know the half of it." Although Avery and I had different builds, we were of similar heights. She had the most ideal body a person could have, but I... I mean, I was small. Her face was well-accentuated by her small pink lips, her nose was perfectly structured, her long brunette hair gracefully framed her face, and her eyebrows were carved like angels. I had taken a course with Avery when we were in college. Her quirky personality and upbeat demeanor immediately drew my attention. After combining our dreams, we decided to launch this company. Dad made me a lot of offers, but I wanted to establish a name for myself, not someone else's. It's called legacy, I think.

I tried to respond vaguely, "I'm sorry, a few rather annoying things came up."

"Annoying like marrying the handsome and well-off Andrew Baker!" she exclaimed, sounding almost high-pitched. Oh no! Too much excitement over false information.

To my dismay, Avery grabbed me by the arms and gave me a fierce shake. "Oh my God Amelia! When were you planning to tell your best friend that you've been dating a super hot businessman?" Avery asked. She looked at me afterward, expecting me to explain, but all I could do was give her a blank stare.

In an attempt to convince me, she spoke clearly. "Just to be clear, I wasn't following you. It's all over the internet! Stunning Andrew Baker is finally getting married! Then I see an image of both of you. Seriously, why didn't you tell me anything?" she asked. I removed her hands from my arms and sighed.

"First..." I began, prepared to tell her that there had never been any dating in the first place, but then I remembered that Andrew and my family were the only ones who were supposed to be aware of the truth. Even though Avery was like family to me, I still felt stuck. She wouldn't divulge this secret to anyone, I'm sure.

"First what, Amelia?" she demanded, pressing me for a response.

I covered up my first remark with, "Uh-um, first... first, you never tell me when you start dating." I realize that what I'm doing is wrong, but she should know as little as possible. Besides, she wouldn't have to bear the responsibility of keeping such a big secret hidden.

Avery snorted and then smiled a little. "I do Amelia. Turning this discussion back to you, don't you know how lucky you are?" She asked.

I sighed.

"So I've heard but no one knows the truth about him. Sure he can pose on the cover of magazines to promote his business but that doesn't get him close to being a bearable human being. He's got no character, he's plain rude and he talks to people as if he owns them!" I said. Avery's eyes were as big as the moon and her mouth fell open.

My brows knitted slightly at her question, "Amelia, are you sure you should be marrying this guy? Because it sounds like you both have some serious issues you need to work out. Were you publicized into saying yes to his proposal?"

"Publicised?"

"Yes, publicized. You know when a lady is proposed marriage to in public so the crowd goes awwwn… and then they chant for her to say yes so she's forced to comply or else by the next day, the internet portrays her as this evil and bad person who refused a sweet proposal from this sweet and innocent guy." She clarified but all I did was widen my gaze upon her.

As I walked past her to grab my workstation goggles and put them on, I said, "Wow! You seriously watch too many Bachelor series or something of that sort." Avery turns to face me, gasping.

Her expression of surprise was evident as she asked, "How did you know that Amelia?" For a moment, I looked at her in blank confusion, and then I shook my head, forgetting she had ever asked me such a question. I started putting my gloves on.

"So... returning to our earlier topic... Yep, I think you guys have some serious issues if that's the case."

Avery and I snapped our heads in the direction of the seductive voice, "Yeah, we do have some serious issues." Clad in a black suit and tie, Andrew stood there. His face was expressionless, just like the other day, with one hand in his pocket, but he still managed to look great. Why does good genetics seem to always come easily to the wicked? Talk of the devil.