The wedding is held inside a very classic ballroom of a hotel. Judging from the expensive-looking cars in the parking lot, the Mayor must be very influential around here.

We take a seat at a round table for five. The venue is richly decorated in cream and gold, with plenty of white orchids and mixed colored roses on each table.

"Wow, seems like the town folks know how to do stuff, huh?" Sam sounds awed.

"Well. They are not cavemen," I return, appreciating the efforts of whoever made this place so marvelous.

The waiter, immaculately dressed in black and white, passes by with a tray of drinks, and we grab a champagne flute each. I slowly take a sip, savoring the chilly golden liquid as it flows splendidly down my throat.

Malik gives me a mischievous glance, laughing at whatever's on his capricious mind.

"What?" I mouth, and his smile broadens.

"Nothing. I just enjoy looking at you," he answers jovially, forcing my eyes to go into a rollercoaster.

He's so playful for God's sake.

The ceremony starts and we finally get the honor to see both the bride and groom. Just like all other weddings, it takes several twists and turns until I get to have that delicious meal I've been waiting for subconsciously.

We all talk about anything and everything; making a few comments regarding this wedding specifically.

"What's your dream wedding, Kira?" Sam shoots with a very huge grin, as though doing it on purpose.

"Um, I don't know," I reply.

Dream wedding? Perhaps it's weird, but I never give much thought on that.

"Oh come on," Sam cries, and it seems like everyone is on her side.

Both boys fix their eyes expectantly on me. Jeez!

"Well, maybe something simple." I start marveling at it in my head. "A small ceremony in the garden, maybe . . . with a few people who actually matter to me. Nothing grand, just a simple and beautiful wedding." I smile dreamily, and for once I let fantasy fill my psyche.

"Why am I not surprised?" Sam remarks while sipping her drink.

"Well, I am," Malik utters calmly. "I thought you'd want a big wedding, like all the ladies I know." His voice is rather teasing, and it's easier for anyone to consider it flirty.

But something tells me it's how he is.

"That's not my Kira." Sam takes over, and I laugh at it without much attention as somehow, without any ulterior motive, I get preoccupied with my grand curiosity about Liam's idea for a wedding.

"What about you, Samantha?" Liam, who's been a silent observer thus far, finally voices out.

"Me?" Sam smiles coyly, blushing. "I think I'd like a crazy wedding."

"How crazy?" I blurt out, chuckling.

And I can't believe I'm picturing Liam as the guy beside me on that wedding day. Am I going crazy? I gulp my champagne right away, just so I can get rid of these crazed ideas.

"Like getting married in Vegas without a proper wedding preparation," she blurts out, and everyone laughs a bit. This crazy bitch. I grin widely. "Or some traditional wedding in Hawaii, where I just wear a bikini and sarong on the wedding day."

"With a flora tiara in the head, right?" I add, and she grins incredulously.

We keep our conversation in such design as the party goes on. Without this small talk, I believe I'd be bored to death. I'm not a huge fan of parties, and I guess I'm not the only one.

Liam seems completely out of place, hoping for it to end quickly. Thanks to the chattering box called Sam, at least he gets to nod and smile a tiny bit from time to time.

I, on the other hand, get indulged in my own conversation with Malik who has decided to torture me tonight with his endless questions.

He must know everything about me by now, from where I work, where I live, my hobbies, likes, dislikes, and even my relationship status. Apparently it's impossible to get bored around him.

"Enough about me," I snap, "tell me, where are you really from?" I use his current strategy against him, sitting straighter.

"London." He smiles, placing down his champagne flute.

I scowl. "Stop fooling around, will you? I know you're probably half-Arab, so which country are you from?"

"How do you know I'm Arab?" He is slightly surprised, wincing back.

"I don't know. Maybe you do look like one?" I shrug. "Well, let's call it an innocent guess."

"I'm from Saudi Arabia," he enunciates.

"Oh, Saudi Arabia." I scoff at my drink, which completes a third round. By now I must be a bit tipsy, and Malik likes the fact. "No wonder you look like a prince. A prince from a far kingdom." I laugh at my own humorless joke.

The alcohol is indeed taking its effect. My communication skills improve tremendously when I drink, and it's something that I usually try to avoid. I'd rather be at my best in order to wisely filter my words, which is far from the case at the moment.

"Is that another innocent guess?" Malik asks, somewhat surprised.

"What?" I squint my eyes.

"Very few people know about that," he says earnestly, probably intrigued as his eyes gleam with wonder.

"Know about what?" I'm confused.

"That I'm a prince?"

"Huh?" I stare at him blankly. Does he think I'm stupid or what? I burst out laughing. "A Prince? That was a good one, Malik." I take another sip, forsaking his allegation.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" he asks in a tease, making me blink several times.

"Why don't you just tell me that the bigfoot is real while at it?" I retort in disbelief. He raises an amused eyebrow, smiling. Is he serious? "Okay, a prince from where? Ottoman empire?" I ask him laughingly.

I've got to admit that I'm having a good time right now. The conversation is pleasing, and Malik isn't so bad after all. At first I thought him very supercilious and conceited, a jerk even, but I think I misjudged him. Well, he is just a charming guy and I'm glad to meet him.

"You surprise me, little professor." He laughs delightedly, tapping his fingers on the table. "But no, I'm not from Ottoman."

"Oh, what a shame." I recline back in my seat, my mood at the peak.

"Yeah, that's an ancient Turkish empire." He takes another sip of his drink, his eyes stilled on me.

"You're not serious, are you?" I whisper, moving closer to him. "You're really a prince?" I think I sound like a child right now, trying to believe whether Santa Claus and the Easter bunny are real or not.

"I am," Malik prompts, grinning with amusement. "You can ask Liam if you don't believe me." He gives me his playful smile and I think he's telling the truth.

"Wow! So I'm speaking to the living shahzad?" I gawp, and Malik laughs loudly, quite entranced.

"You even know that word?" he asks.

"I majored in History and Literature, and I love reading about ancient civilization so I know that much about Middle Eastern culture," I tell him matter-of-factly.

"Really?"

"Yeah. But I'm more captivated with the Ottoman empire and the reign of Sultan Suleiman Khan who conquered—" I pause. "Boring, isn't it?" I ask in apprehension.

Who would want to hear this kind of tale at a party, seriously?

"I don't mind listening, Professor." Malik's smile is assuring, and I guess he's not a mundane person after all.

I chuckle lightly.

We continue chatting until we are interrupted by a bulky man in his early fifties or so, his big belly protruding before his full stance. He must be the mayor, judging from the way he carries himself as though he calls the shots here. We exchange greetings.

"It's a shame Eleanor couldn't be here tonight," Mr. Mayor tells Liam.

"She sends her apology," Liam replies coolly, abandoning his mobile after making a small peek. "She had a last minute trip to Rome, that's why she was not able to attend."

Sam and I take an opportunity to run for the ladies' room. She's retouching her makeup when I get out of the toilet stall and start washing my hands.

She grins at me in the mirror and says, "Spill it."

"Spill what?" I ask, bemused.

"Oh please, Kira Jones," she frantically cries. "Tell me about Mr. Loaded."

"What?" I chuckle at the name.

"I saw how you two flashed together like a match made in heaven," Sam says while applying her cherry lipstick, looking fresh already.

"We were just talking."

"Oh, yeah? Talk about what?" She nudges me.

I don't think she'll let it slide so easily, hence I decide to shut her up. "Nothing much, just the basics," I speak truthfully. "What about you? How is it going with Liam?"

Sam tenses up, and maybe I shouldn't have asked this. It's obvious things aren't proceeding on a steep slope, and I just had to open my drunk mouth.

"I don't know, Kira." She dips her little powder kit inside the purse and continues, "He keeps blowing hot and cold so I'm beginning to think that he doesn't have any interest in me." She exhales and I keep shut, waiting for her to continue.

I'm not aware of their arrangement until this trip, other than what Sam told me at my apartment back in L.A. But something tells me that I should enlighten her about Liam.

Sighing, hesitation flooding my resolution, I decide to go ahead. "Well, I happened to hear—"

"I think I love him," Sam mutters, cutting my speech short. What? I snap inwardly. "I've never liked a guy like I do him, but he's so indifferent."

Damn it! Why am I astounded while it was a matter of time. Why does it feel like a turn off on my part, something I'd rather didn't hear?

"Why don't you just talk plainly with him?" I say suggestively, my eyes on her. She doesn't seem elated by the idea. "I mean . . . don't mind me." I suck in a deep breath, feeling like I'm being nonsensical.

"You're right, though," Sam says thoughtfully, her eyes lost into space. "It's the only option I'm left with."

"Right," I breathe, a pang of discomfort hitting my heart. "Um, can I go back?" I ask.

"Sure. I need a little moment with my face," Sam says, and I smile gratefully.

I step away awkwardly after hearing whatever she's just told me, and I don't know why. I'm welcomed by Ed Sheeran's golden voice the minute I step outside the ladies' room.

Marching back to our table, I thank heavens that the Mayor is gone. However, he isn't the only one missing. Malik is nowhere to be seen, which means only Liam is present.

"Um, where is Malik?" I ask Liam while taking a seat.

"He's taking a call outside," he answers nonchalantly, taking a champagne flute to his mouth without leaving my eyes.

"I see," I breathe, trying hard to calm my nerves that are apparently behaving weird.

"Would you dance if I ask you to?" Liam utters.

"Huh?" I gasp, making sure my ears aren't playing tricks with me.

"May I have one dance, Ms. Jones?" he repeats.

"Uh, no," I murmur and dart my gaze towards the floor where a few people are having a magical moment under the dim pink lights.

"Please. I insist." He gets up, extending a hand towards me.

Oh God! Why do I want, so badly, to oblige to his request? I look at him and eyes gleam in a beseeching manner.

"Um . . . okay." I take a deep nervous breath and stand up.

"Very well." Liam takes my hand, and slowly he leads me towards the dance floor.

The 'Perfect' lyrics fail to help me; on the contrary, the words speed up my heartbeat. Standing before Mr. Darcy, his gaze so impassive yet alluring, I feel his hand sliding on my back, and stop about the smallest part of it.

"I'm a terrible dancer," I whisper. "But I guess the cowboy is much better than the city girl." My sarcasm is purely intended and when he smiles heat courses through me.

"The minute you start thinking is when you step on your partner's foot, Ms. Jones. Allow me to guide you, and show you what cowboys can do to city girls," he tells me softly, taking my hand about his shoulder, holding me securely.

I stifle a laugh. As if he's a true cowboy! Well, he is a Londoner but according to Eleanor, he's lived around horses his whole life.

As we start taking a few rhythmic steps he looks into my eyes and murmurs, "You look so beautiful tonight."

My heart skips a beat. What is he doing to me?

"Thanks." I blush, my cheeks burning with a little fire rising in my heart. "You look handsome yourself." I get lost into the sphere of his blue eyes that are currently sparkling pink, so wild, so fervent.

What am I thinking?

A one-minute silence settles, and everything ceases to exist. Just the music and Liam's heartbeat, a perfect combination for my arrested heart. Could there be another sinful distraction than the sight of this beautiful man I've ever come across? I mentally face-palm.

"So, you want a simple wedding?" suddenly, Liam asks, and I bite my lip at the subject.

Must we talk about weddings now? I flush.

"Yes. And you? I didn't get to hear about yours." I play along, a fitting distraction from the lewd thoughts partaking in my brain.

"Me? I've never thought about it, until a while ago." He smiles at me in a teasing manner, but sincerity laces his voice nevertheless.

I gaze up at him, stunned. What a coincidence! "So then?" I ask, my eagerness evident—probably.

"I think . . . whatever my bride would prefer," Liam says softly, a faint smile on his lips. I get stuck at his lack of surety, as if there is none at the moment. "Oh, as long as it's not a crazy wedding," he adds, and we both laugh in a discerning manner.

"Well, I have no comment on that," I say, and Sam crosses my mind right away. I cower inside, remorse pooling in my heart.

Throwing my glance towards the table, I see my fake blonde wandering her gaze around and the magic is over.

"Any problem?" Liam asks, a little frown on his face.

"Um, the song is over." I find the perfect excuse as we hear the applause, and the lights come bright.

Sam finally spots us and a little startled look clouds her face. However, she breaks into a smile as another song comes, and quickly marches towards us.

"May I have a little dance as well?" she asks, staring directly at Liam.

"Um, I'll go get myself a drink." I don't wait for him to answer as I know my place so well at this moment.

I give Sam a tight-lipped smile before making my way back towards the table. Nostalgia engulfs me as soon as my body parts Liam's, and it's a bit overwhelming. I down the drink in one go. Malik returns, and at last I'm not alone.