The Billionaire's Reluctant Partner.

Naomi's POV Disaster. The English dictionary defined disaster as a sudden event that causes great damage or loss. Some might say it was like a huge storm destroying a city, an earthquake shaking everything apart, or a fire turning memories into dust. The smell of burnt roses filled the air as I stood still in the Grand Astoria ballroom, my hands tightly balled into fists. The event that was meant to boost my company's reputation-a grand wedding between a rich media heiress and a tech tycoon's son-had turned into chaos. Or should I say... disaster? I stared in shock as my team rushed around, trying to fix the mess. Fancy white and gold flowers were scattered on the marble floor, and spilled champagne sparkled under the big chandeliers. Guests whispered behind their gloved hands, their shocked voices growing louder until I felt chills run down my spine. Across the room, the bride was sitting on the edge of a chaise lounge, sobbing into her thousand-dollar veil while her furious mother yelled at a team of waiters, and my stomach sank even deeper. My lungs tightened. This wasn't just a bad night. This was the worst night of my career. I blinked once and then twice, somehow wishing that this was a nightmare. Because that was the only suitable word for everything happening right now. A nightmare and a complete, unmitigated disaster. I stumbled slightly as a wave of dizziness hit me, making my knees go weak. I put my hand on my forehead, trying to hold back the nausea that was about to overwhelm me. Claire rushed toward me, her normally smooth bob wild with stress. "Naomi, it's bad." She barely paused to catch her breath before launching into rapid-fire damage control. "The fire department is still outside. Someone posted a video of the groomsmen brawl-it already has over twenty thousand views. And the New York Chronicle is here." The Chronicle. My heart dropped into my stomach. If they got a headline out of this, I might as well set fire to my entire career myself. Yep, I might actually do that and then throw myself off a cliff. "This wasn't our fault,' I said, but it felt empty as I spoke." Wasn't it? Claire winced. "It doesn't matter, the client wants blood." A cold chill swept through me. Mrs. Kensington. I hardly had time to prepare before she approached, moving like a storm in designer heels. "This," she seethed angrily, waving her manicured hand, 'is unacceptable and a disgrace." I squared my shoulders, meeting her cold gaze. "Mrs. Kensington, I-" "You what?" She cut me off, voice sharp enough to draw blood. "You ruined my daughter's wedding. Do you even know the shame you brought on my family? The guests are calling it a-" she spat the next word like poison-"circus." I struggled to keep my voice steady and calm. "I know this is upsetting, but-" "No," she interrupted sharply. "You don't get it. If you did, you wouldn't