Surprise shipsxahoy! I'm your Secret Valentine. I'm so glad to have shared this experience with you over the last few weeks. It was a pleasure to meet you through the shared messages. I hope that now the mystery has been revealed, we will keep in touch. At least I can follow you now, lol.
Emma Swan hated weddings. Although it was a feeling perhaps irrational, she found it extremely difficult to deal with it. The mere mention of any aspect related to this kind of event was enough for her breathing to race and for her heart to hammer furiously in her chest.
For that reason, when her brother and his girlfriend announced their engagement, she had to hide that feeling in the depths of her heart to be able to show the joy they deserved. However, when the engagement ceased to be an abstract concept in her mind and became something real in the form of a wedding date, her joy turned into some uneasiness. When her sister-in-law-to-be, Mary Margaret, gently asked her to be her maid of honor, the uneasiness became a panic that she tried to hide behind the mask of a neutral expression.
The months passed, though, and she managed to get away from most of the usual tasks in this type of celebrations, with more or less reasonable excuses. But inevitability was bound to happen sooner or later. For that reason, when her brother suddenly fell sick and Mary Margaret came to her a little desperate, looking for help with the photographer's choice, she did not have the heart to refuse.
That was how both ended up inside Emma's vehicle, while she drove and her very excited and nervous sister-in-law-to-be stirred in the passenger seat unable to close her mouth. Her words came out so fast and Mary Margaret talked about so many different things that she was finding it extremely difficult to keep up with the conversation, which not only failed to improve her mood, but it was starting to cause her a pulsating headache.
"So we're going to choose the wedding photographer." Emma said rather abruptly, trying to cut off Mary Margaret's endless monologue.
"Not exactly."
Emma glanced sideways at Mary Margaret, then turned her gaze back to the road. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it's a bit more complicated than that..." Mary Margaret paused for a moment. "We have an appointment with the photographer, but it's he who must choose us."
She looked at Mary Margaret for a moment, her eyes narrowed. "What?"
"He is a very sought-after photographer. He has even done the wedding photo report of some of the celebrities in the area. So he decides who he wants to work with. He will interview us to see if we are the suitable candidates."
"You mean we're going to do some kind of casting?" She replied, unable to avoid a hint of sarcasm in her voice. The previous confusion was giving way to some exasperation. How could a professional be so vain as to decide who he wanted to work with? Which standard would he choose? The physical aspect? The money? The social category? Was this something common lately at weddings? Too many questions she was not sure wanted to know the answer to.
"Emma, please." Mary Margaret almost begged. "This is so important to me. Promise me you are going to behave and try to make a good impression."
"But he's just a photographer, who the hell does a casting to choose a client?"
"Let's make this clear from the beginning, I WANT that photographer at my wedding. I'm going to do everything in my power to get him. And you are going to help me. Understood?" Emma kept her eyes on the road, so she wasn't able to see Mary Margaret's expression. Even so, and despite her soft voice, she had managed to imprint enough determination and authority on her words so that her goal left no room for doubt.
Emma nodded without a word, her lips pressed together to avoid replying Mary Margaret again. From that moment a tense silence fell over them.
The trip did not take them much time, to her relief. Living in a small town like Storybrooke had its advantages, like the fact that everything was within easy reach. Thinking about Storybrooke led her to wonder why an apparently famous photographer would have chosen this town as his place of residence.
By the time they reached their destination and the car was parked, Emma rushed out of the vehicle in an attempt to leave the previous tension behind. Although the fact of being about to face an appointment with the damn photographer did not help in the least.
As she drove, she had been so focused on the road, in her thoughts, and in the brief conversation with Mary Margaret that she had not even realized where they were going.
Now that she was out of the vehicle, she could see that they had traveled to a location close to the woods and what was in front of her, nestled in a privileged place, far from resembling a sophisticated office, looked more like a cottage.
Emma pointed to the house, giving Mary Margaret an inquiring look. "Is the appointment here? In his own house?"
Clearly, the closeness of the meeting was affecting her friend, her earlier determination turned into nervousness as she nodded in silence, her lips pressed together in a straight line and her elusive gaze directed towards the house.
As they walked silently toward the entrance, Emma stared at the landscape around them. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by nature, the woods to one side and breathtaking views of the ocean on the other side. She would at least concede that to him, good taste when it came to choosing a location for his home.
Mary Margaret took two deep breaths before knocking on the door. Luckily, they didn't have to wait long. However, Emma was not prepared for what appeared in front of her when the door finally opened.
The damn photographer —assuming he wasn't some sort of secretary or something— was attractive, sexy, in fact. He was a dark-haired man wearing dark blue tight jeans and a sky-blue henley matching his piercing blue eyes. A well-groomed scruff framed a smirk perhaps too sinful for his own good.
Emma realized at that moment that her mouth had dropped slightly while her gaze traveled over his body. Her scrutiny didn't go unnoticed by him, as his smirk grew even wider. Bastard. In response, she pressed her lips together hardening her features and turning her eyes back to his.
"Welcome to my humble home, ladies." Emma suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, he had an accent. After a little bow, he turned to Mary Margaret. "Killian Jones. And I suppose you must be the bride. Miss Blanchard, am I right?" She nodded with a shy smile as she shook his hand.
Then he turned to Emma, his gaze lingering on her a little more than normal, his eyebrow arched playfully. "And I guess you're not the groom."
This time Emma did roll her eyes but didn't have time to reply with the appropriate sharp remark, as Mary Margaret overtook her. "My fiance suddenly became ill, but she's Emma Swan, his sister and my maid of honor."
He gave her a new appreciative look as he held out his hand. "It's a pleasure. Swan, I like it, I think it suits you." She let out a snort but shook his hand, feeling his touch warm and firm, causing on her a kind of unexpected electric jolt. Dammit.
After releasing her hand, Killian stepped aside to let them in. He then escorted them to what appeared to be his office. For the next few minutes, Emma merely watched as Killian Jones unfolded all his charms in front of Mary Margaret, flattering her and showing an interest that seemed almost genuine about the preparations for the wedding. Emma rolled her eyes as she watched as her sister-in-law-to-be fell into his nets and was seduced by his appeal.
She knew those of his kind, and she was quite certain that he was playing a role only for the purpose of winning over a prospective client, her years of experience in studying the behavior of people didn't deceive her. She also noticed that he kept his left arm concealed, something she missed in their meeting at the entrance, but which now seemed quite obvious. However, she had no chance to appreciate what it might mean, for within a few seconds he leaned back in his seat, his left arm hidden behind the desk, and addressed them, this time also including her in the conversation.
"Well, once the necessary presentations have been made, what do you think, ladies, if we get into the business?" The mask of his charm had partially disappeared, his voice seemed harder and his smile less gentle. "Why should I choose your wedding over all the other candidates for the same date?"
Emma couldn't suppress a snort as she rolled her eyes, causing him to tilt his head slightly as he gave her a curious look, his fake smile lingering on his lips. "This is funny because I always thought it was the bride and groom who chose how they wanted to organize their wedding, so why should we choose you?"
"Emma ..." Mary Margaret pleaded in a whisper to her side, but she ignored her friend and focused on Killian's reaction.
"Perhaps that is the reason why you are here, because you have already chosen me." He kept his smirk, but the coldness in his eyes and his arrogant tone sent a chill over her body.
Fucking bastard. She should restrain herself, she owed to Mary Margaret, but that arrogant dude was driving her crazy. "Oh, do not make a mistake here. We are also evaluating our options. But I'm curious about your standards to select a winner. Maybe if you give us a clue we could or could not offer you what you want."
He leaned forward, his gaze still cold although she could detect a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "I'm afraid I can't do that, love. It's called fair play."
The use of the word love infuriated her even more. "I'm not your love." She said sharply as she glared at him.
"Well, we ..." Mary Margaret started to speak, probably trying to ease the tension, but Emma was out of control, so she cut her off abruptly.
"Let me guess. What are you looking for? Money, maybe? Nah, you don't look like that kind of guy. Maybe social recognition? Maybe someone who can fuel your ego?"
"Emma!" Margaret Mary chided, sounding almost shocked.
Killian's gaze became even colder. She could detect him squeezing his jaw before speaking. "And what would be your reasons for choosing me, love?" He paused deliberately at the last word ignoring her previous request. "Maybe my undoubted attractiveness? Or maybe the fact that I've worked for a couple of celebrities? Or the morbid thing about getting a one-handed photographer?" He raised his left arm and placed it on the desk. Emma's eyes widened involuntarily when she saw that there was a prosthesis in the place where his left hand should be.
"Eh, guys, please ..." Mary Margaret sounded mortified beside her, interrupting any reply on her part, although she couldn't have done so either, since her ability to articulate words had disappeared because of the surprise caused by seeing his prosthesis.
Still, she ignored her friend for a few more seconds as she held his gaze. His eyes didn't leave hers either, in a clear silent challenge on both sides. Despite the genuine initial surprise, she was not going to be so easily impressed and was more than willing to show it to him.
"Excuse me for abusing your hospitality, but could you leave us alone for a few seconds? It seems like my maid of honor and I should discuss some aspects." Though Mary Margaret's voice kept her tone soft and gentle, Emma could detect a hint of reprobation in her words, especially when she uttered Emma's bestowed title.
It was Killian who looked away first, to Emma's satisfaction, though a wave of guilt began to seize her.
"Of course, my apologies for my rudeness. I will leave you alone for a few minutes so that you can speak in private." He got up, but, before leaving the room, he went to one of the bookshelves and extracted two volumes, depositing them on the desk right in front of them.
"Since it seems that you are not aware of my work, maybe this will help you and you'll be able to decide if it is worth hiring my services, despite everything else."
At the same moment Killian closed the door behind him, Mary Margaret turned to her with a frown, her forefinger raised in warning. "I told you this was important to me and you're ruining everything." She hissed.
"Come on, look at him, he's a complete idiot. What an arrogant dude!" Emma defended herself.
"Do I have to remind you that you started it?" Mary Margaret rebuked her again. Okay, she had a point. It was Emma herself who started the fight, but she could not restrain herself at the sight of his attitude.
"Okay, okay, I got it, I'll behave." She crossed her arms over her chest. Maybe she had let her aversion to everything related to weddings take over. Maybe she was being unfair to the guy. She wasn't helping her friend, either. Emma swallowed as guilt began to invade her.
Mary Margaret sighed. She reached for one of the volumes and handed it to Emma. "He's right. Look at his work, that's the reason I want this photographer at my wedding."
Emma shrugged and grabbed the album. She had to admit that she was curious to know what his work would be like, wondering how he would manage to make good enough pictures with just one hand.
The moment she opened the album and looked at the first photo, she knew what her friend was talking about. The guy had talent. A lot of talent, in fact. Although she wasn't a professional, she loved everything about photography, and she had the ability to recognize the quality of the images. And these photos had it, no doubt. As she turned the pages her good impression was increasing. The light, the angle, the sensitivity to catch the perfect moment, getting to tell a story with just one image. Fucking bastard. He was good.
Emma leaned against the back of her seat as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, he's good." She admitted dropping her arms in defeat.
"Do you understand now why we have chosen him? Have you seen the sensitivity that his photos transmit? The elegance of the images? Now imagine this kind of photos for our own wedding. Wouldn't that be wonderful?" Mary Margaret's words, charged with emotion had their effect on her, increasing her sense of regret.
She was right, Emma thought as she sighed. The contrast between the sensitivity he conveyed in his work and the arrogance of his attitude was quite striking. The discovery of his work made her take his earlier speech more seriously by wondering what a guy like Killian might look for. What could they offer him? What could attract him? Maybe a challenge? Something different, original? He looked like that kind of people…
Emma looked at her friend, her features showing the same emotion as her earlier words. She placed her hand over hers, that were resting on her lap, and gave her a small smile. At that moment, Emma realized how selfish she had been. Her aversion to weddings had prevailed above what David and Mary Margaret were giving her, that was, playing for the first time an important role in a celebration of this kind.
Two years ago she was a lonely person, neither friends nor family, but they, both her son Henry and her brother and Mary Margaret, had found her and given her the hope she needed. They had offered her a family and a future. And now that they needed her, she was about to fail them.
"I'm so sorry, Mary Margaret. I've been a total jerk." She said, both her gaze and voice filled with regret.
Her friend rested her hand on hers as she gently squeezed it. Her lips drew a reassuring smile matching her next words. "It's okay, we're still here, right? Maybe it's not too late yet, and in spite of his anger, he seemed interested in you. Maybe you surprised him. Maybe he is accustomed to receiving flattery with the aim of getting him and it's not usual for someone to face him the way you did."
Emma bit her lower lip, clearly nervous but curious. "Did you know that he was missing a hand?"
"Yeah, it's a well-known thing, but because of the face you put on when he showed you the prosthesis, it's clear to him that you were not aware of it. That means the fact of his lack of hand had nothing to do with our decision."
"I have to admit that I'm impressed." Emma held up her hands as if she were holding a professional camera. She tried to imagine how she could handle the controls, focus and rotate the zoom wheel with just one hand. She found it really complicated, especially considering how quickly he had to act so as not to miss the best moments of that kind of events. As she watched the photos, her admiration for his work grew.
Her mind began to work to try to find something to offer him, although it was a complicated task since they had no clue. Emma looked back at Mary Margaret and at that moment something clicked in her head. Her lips curled into a smile of satisfaction as the thought popped into her mind.
"Okay, I think I have it. Let me talk, I won't spoil it. I promise." At that moment there was a soft knock on the door. They both turned to see the door open, Killian's head popping up, his gaze directed toward them.
"May I come in or do you need more time?"
Emma and her friend looked at each other, Mary Margaret nodding at her almost imperceptibly. Then she turned again, nodding, this time more forcefully. "Sure, it's your office after all."
At the same moment Killian sat behind the desk, Emma spoke, giving him little time to react. "We can offer you a story." She said, trying to print determination and a hint of defiance in her words.
Killian leaned back in his seat, his arms folded over his chest as he cocked his head slightly, holding her gaze with renewed interest.
"You have my full attention, love."
Emma bit her tongue, preventing the words 'I'm not your love' from coming out of her mouth and making things even worse. Instead, she took a deep breath and continued.
"Our family has gone through many experiences in the style of a classic fairy tale, traumatic events, painful separations and unexpected encounters. This wedding is the first one we all are celebrating together, the representation of the happy ending they deserve."
Killian narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a few seconds. His gaze was so intense it seemed like he was trying to read her. Although his scrutiny gave her goosebumps, she didn't look away.
"I gather then that my work has been satisfactory enough."
"Well, my sister-in-law chose you for some reason, right?" She replied, unwilling to praise him more than necessary, but making it clear that they were still interested.
After a few seconds of tense silence during which they both continued their silent challenge of looks, Killian finally spoke again.
"Okay, I think I've already gotten all the information I needed." He got up and went to the door, opening them and making a gesture towards them to accompany him.
After escorting them to the entrance, Killian turned to Mary Margaret. "It's been a pleasure. I'll call you when I make a decision." After that, he gave her a wide smile as he took her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing her knuckles.
Her friend's cheeks flushed slightly. Once her hand was released, she spoke to him. "Thank you very much for your time. This is really important to us."
"I will keep it in mind, truly, milady."
Killian then walked over to her, repeating the act he'd taken a few seconds earlier with Mary Margaret. Emma felt, however, that the contact of his lips with her knuckles lingered a little longer as he studied her from beneath his lashes, her breath caught in her throat, her breathing quickened, unable to escape his intense blue eyes.
"I hope you put so much passion into the other facets of your life, love." His deep voice and piercing gaze sending a chill all over her body, while her blood ran hot in her veins. Fucking bastard. Why did he have to be so hot?
Emma released her hand, feeling her cheeks burn. Even so, his comment full of intention deserved a similar reply, so leaving aside her bad impression from the beginning, she responded in a somewhat suggestive voice, "you know what you have to do if you want to have a chance to find it out."
The last thing Emma saw before the door closed behind them was a grin on his face and an inquisitive look mixed with curiosity, challenge and something else she couldn't identify. She let out the breath she'd been holding, hoping she'd have amended her initial behavior. Now they could only wait and see if Killian's next move was heading toward them.
Thanks for reading :)