The bridal planning suite overlooked the venue's landscaped gardens through tall windows framed with ivory curtains. Morning sunlight filtered across polished oak floors where sample centerpieces, ribbon swatches, invitation proofs, linen books, and cake displays occupied nearly every available surface.
The room smelled faintly of fresh flowers, vanilla sponge, and brewed coffee. Wedding planners moved quietly between tables, replacing empty plates and making notes while soft instrumental music drifted from hidden speakers.
Galathea Brooks stood before a display of floral arrangements with genuine excitement.
Cael Alexander stood beside her with a cup of coffee in one hand and the unmistakable expression of a man who had decided that every opinion she held automatically became the correct one.
