Free The Organized Bride (Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book 2) by Lucy McConnell Page A

that as a sign that their time was up. They’d have to talk about the Center later.
    Gabe put the lid back on her cup and turned to David. “Make sure she drinks that, will you? She tends to forget to eat or drink when she’s in a meeting.”
    MaKayla snapped her mouth shut just as quickly as her jaw had dropped . How did he know that? She was constantly pushing food aside, so she could focus just like Brooke did when she studied.
    “Will do.”
    MaKayla took out her iPad and set it on the desk, while David settled into the seat across from her. In her foggy state last night, she’d forgotten to charge it, and the battery was low. Rather than run it completely dry—she’d heard that could damage the battery—she opened the top drawer, looking for a pen and paper, and found a charger that would hook the iPad to her laptop. “Nice,” she said as she plugged it in.
    She glanced through her open door to where she could see Gabe in his office talking on his cell and shook her head. “Does he think of everything ?”
    David smiled like one of those teen rappers who is overconfident in their looks and abilities. It was a natural extension of his play boy attitude that she’d caught onto yesterday. “I don’t know about everything; that would be your department.” His tone implied that he wasn’t talking about things that happen in the office.
    She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. There was no way she was going to go down that road or encourage gossip about what was or was not happening in her marriage within the company.
    He laughed at her reaction. “Come on, I’m only joking. You guys are newlyweds, after all.”
    MaKayla decided to let it slide. She’d made her point, and if David wasn’t really digging for information, then she could handle his teasing. It was probably part of his personality and one of the ways he got in people’s good graces. It wasn’t his fault that her marriage was unconventional.
    Pressing her lips, she wondered why she thought the state of her marriage was someone’s fault. Fault implied blame—blame implied something was wrong—and there was nothing wrong with her marriage. It was coming together exactly as described in the contract. There was no need to think that it should be any different.
    “Here, you’d better drink some of this or I am going to get in trouble.” David moved the tea closer to her hand.
    “I’ll drink if you tell me about last year’s luncheon. Then we’ll discuss what to do to make this year’s better.”
    Between sips, MaKayla took notes and jotted ideas down as David talked.
    “Does it really have to be so formal?” she asked after a while. “It’s in the middle of the afternoon.”
    “We thought the sit-down meal would show the shareholders we valued their contribution to the company.”
    “Hmm, I can see that, and I like the idea of keeping it earlier in the day. It negates the need to serve alcohol.”
    David eyed her wearily. “Are you opposed to alcohol?”
    “Not at a dinner or a social gathering, but at a business meeting, people don’t need the distraction.”
    “I don’t follow.”
    MaKayla drank one final sip of the tea and grinned. “I was over a company Christmas party two years ago where the owner’s son got plastered, grabbed the mic from his dad, and announced to the whole company—and their significant others—that his mom spent their Christmas bonuses on breast augmentation and a tummy tuck.”
    David tipped his head back and laughed. “That did not happen.”
    MaKayla held up her right hand. “I swear I’m telling you the truth.”
    “Okay, if we aren’t serving drinks to loosen things up, then what are we going to do?”
    “What colors did they use for the invitations and such?”
    David dug through his stack of files and handed her one that contained the invitation as well as other correspondences regarding the restaurant, place settings, and centerpieces. “I think we can work with this. The