It's Got To Be Perfect: The Memoirs Of A Modern-day Matchmaker - Plot & Excerpts
I opened one eye and saw a flash of netting on the side table. Then I hauled myself up and out of bed. The hammering continued. Concerned I was about to be the unfortunate subject of a botched drug raid, I grabbed Robert’s gown and dragged myself to the front door.The moment I unhooked the latch, a small man with coiffed hair barged into the hallway. He smoothed down his slim-fit purple suit and glared at me.‘Fastidio Weddings has a zero tolerance on tardiness,’ he said in a quasi Italian accent, while waving a piece of paper in my face. ‘Clause twelve on the agreement you signed. The bride must honour appointments.’ He pointed at his watch. ‘Fastidio time equals Fastidio money.’I stood still, staring at his luminous white teeth and thick eyebrows.Suddenly I noticed Cordelia trudging up the stairs, sweat beading on her forehead. He swung round to face her. ‘Chop chop, maid of honour, we have work to do.’ Then he leaned over the banister. ‘And you too, chief bridesmaid,’ he shouted down the stairwell.‘Caro?’ I said, just as I noticed her scaling the staircase behind Cordelia.He clapped his hands.‘And the groom?’ He turned on his heel and began to patrol the corridor, swerving his neck into each room as he passed.
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