Planning the Grand Spectacle
1439 Words
The walls of Logan King’s office felt strangely different today. Yesterday, it had been intimidating, a world too sharp and polished for her to belong in. But now, as Skylar sat across from him at his massive desk, it felt like the center of her new reality.
Logan leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze locked on her as if he could read her every thought. His phone lay forgotten on the table, his full attention directed toward her.
“Tell me, Miss Perry,” he began in that smooth, commanding tone that left little room for argument, “what do you want in this wedding?”
The question caught her off guard. She blinked at him, unsure if she’d heard correctly. “What I… want?”
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed slightly, though not with irritation—more with intent. “It’s your wedding. Even if it’s not built on love, it must be built on spectacle. You’re not just marrying me, Skylar. You’re reclaiming your dignity, your narrative. For that, you must tell me what you want. The dress. The theme. The guest list. The press coverage. Everything.”
Her lips parted, but words didn’t immediately come. For two years she had imagined a wedding—white roses, candlelit tables, Henry smiling at her like she was his whole world. That dream had been shattered, trampled under Rose’s betrayal. And now, here she was, being asked to plan another wedding—this time not out of love, but out of strategy.
“I… I always wanted something simple,” she admitted after a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “White flowers. A classic dress. Nothing too flashy.”
Logan’s brows lifted. “Simple won’t do. Not anymore.”
She looked at him, startled.
“This isn’t about you and me alone,” he continued, his voice calm but firm. “It’s about making the world see what they didn’t expect. A bride who refuses to break. A woman who rises from betrayal to something greater. Henry and Rose will choke on every detail of this wedding. That means it has to be grand. Perfect.”
Skylar stared at him, and despite herself, a small fire flickered inside her chest. He was right. This wasn’t about romance or softness anymore—it was about power, about making a statement so bold the world could never forget it.
Logan leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. “So, tell me again, Skylar. What do you want?”
---
And so, the planning began.
Skylar pulled out a notebook from her bag, and together they began to draft the wedding of the century. She sketched ideas—white lilies instead of roses, a string quartet for the ceremony, and a reception so elegant it would make Henry’s family pale in comparison.
Logan set aside the files that had been occupying his desk. With an ease that both stunned and amused her, he picked up his phone and began dialing numbers, his voice sharp and authoritative as he made call after call.
“Reserve the Grand Hall. Yes, the largest ballroom. I want it cleared and redesigned in three days.”
“Contact the press. They’ll be informed tomorrow morning. No leaks until I say so.”
“Call in Carter & Sons. I don’t care how busy they are, the dress must be ready in two days.”
Skylar watched him in awe. For Henry, she had always been the one to plan, to push, to persuade. But Logan? Logan pulled strings with the flick of a finger. Doors opened, people jumped, and the impossible bent to his will.
For hours, they worked side by side. He listened carefully to her suggestions, never dismissing her thoughts, but always refining them, making them sharper, more dramatic. What had started as a simple design in her notebook was quickly transforming into a royal affair.
At some point, Skylar realized she was smiling. Genuinely smiling, for the first time in days.
---
Time passed without her noticing. It wasn’t until she leaned back in her chair with a soft sigh that she realized her body ached. Her hand cramped from all the sketching, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Logan noticed before she said anything.
“You’re tired,” he observed, his voice low but firm.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, forcing a small smile. “I just need a minute.”
“You’ve had enough minutes for today.” He stood, buttoning his suit jacket with effortless grace. “I’ll drive you home.”
Skylar blinked at him, surprised. “That’s not necessary. I can get home on my own.”
“I wasn’t asking,” Logan replied smoothly. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for negotiation.
She shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t want to trouble you.”
His lips curved slightly—not a smile, not really, but something close. “Then let me put it this way: if the media sees us leaving together, it will strengthen the story. The public needs to see unity. A man and his bride-to-be. Do you really want to give them silence when you can give them a picture that says everything?”
Her chest tightened. Damn him, he knew exactly how to corner her.
“Fine,” she muttered, gathering her notebook. “But only because of the media.”
“Of course,” he said lightly, though there was a glimmer in his eyes that made her wonder if he was amused.
---
They wrapped up the last of the plans, handing the details over to his team of assistants and wedding planners who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Skylar marveled at how efficient they were—taking notes, confirming schedules, promising to execute every detail with precision.
By the time they left the building, the sky was painted in dusky shades of orange and purple. The city lights had begun to twinkle, alive and vibrant.
Logan’s car—a sleek, black vehicle that screamed wealth—waited for them at the curb. The moment the two of them stepped outside, flashes went off. Cameras.
Skylar stiffened instinctively, her heart leaping into her throat. But Logan didn’t flinch. He simply placed a steadying hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the car with effortless confidence.
The press swarmed from a distance, their voices echoing.
“Mr. King, is it true you’re engaged?”
“Miss Perry, are you the new bride-to-be?”
“Is this the wedding of the season?”
Logan didn’t answer. He simply opened the car door for her, his movements smooth, calculated. As she slipped inside, she caught the sight of his hand lifting briefly, a wave to the crowd.
The cameras loved it. The flashes grew brighter.
When he slid into the driver’s seat and pulled away, the noise of the reporters faded into the distance.
“See?” he said casually, eyes on the road. “Already, the story is changing.”
Skylar leaned back in her seat, exhaling slowly. “You’re unbelievable.”
He smirked faintly. “I hear that often.”
---
When they arrived at her apartment, the cameras were already waiting, but not in the chaotic swarm she had seen before. This time, it was controlled, almost orchestrated. As Logan stepped out and walked her to her door, the press captured every moment—the billionaire and his new bride, the picture of composure and unity.
At her door, Logan’s gaze softened just slightly. “Come early tomorrow,” he said firmly. “We’ll sign the contract then. We don’t have much time left.”
Skylar nodded, her heart thumping faster than she wanted to admit. “Alright.”
He gave her one last look, unreadable but intense, then turned and walked back to his car.
She stood there watching him go, the weight of the day settling over her. Inside, she leaned against the door, her body trembling from exhaustion.
The wedding plans were real. The press coverage was real. Logan King’s presence in her life was real.
And soon, so would be their marriage.
Skylar slipped into bed, her mind spinning with everything that had happened. For the first time since the betrayal, she felt a spark of control, of direction.
“Maybe,” she whispered into the dark, “this won’t be so bad.”
But even as her eyelids grew heavy and sleep pulled her under, a whisper of doubt lingered.
What if this revenge came at a price she couldn’t afford?
- Writer
