“One more thing,” I say after the waitress sets a heaping plate of nachos at the center of the table. “What are you guys doing twenty-nine days from now?”

  Amelia narrows her eyes. “Is this a trick question?”

  “No.” I can’t help but laugh. “If you’re not busy, I’m getting married in the Bahamas…”

  Callie squeals. “OMG! And you want to know if we’ll be your bridesmaids?”

  “Yeah,” I counter with an attitude. “But you could’ve let me ask you first.”

  “Aww, how cute,” Callie says. “You acted the same way when you wanted to ask Nate to prom.”

  “What?” Amelia gasps. “You and Nate went to prom together?”

  I shake my head. “No, I wanted to ask him.”

  “But Mark Holland asked her first,” Callie chimes. “Right in front of Nate.”

  “I was going to say no until Nate tapped me on the back like I was one of the guys and said he’d catch me later.”

  “Yeah, that was super weird,” Callie admits. “I really thought Nate was going to ask you.”

  “Ha! I doubt that,” I shoot back. “He had half of the girls in our class bugging him to be their date. And he ended up going with Tammy Clearwater. Like we didn’t see that coming.”

  Callie purses her lips, and a dark look crosses her face. For once, she keeps her mouth shut.

  “Anyway,” I say after a long pause. “Will you guys be my bridesmaids?”

  “Duh,” Callie says. “Of course, we will. And I better be your MOA.”

  “I couldn’t imagine anyone else being my maid-of-honor.”

  Jules rubs my arm to get my attention and lowers her voice. “I know this isn’t real, but at least we can have fun planning the wedding.”

  “Do you have a dress in mind?” Lola asks.

  “The one I sketched,” I confess. “But how am I going to get it made on short notice? Most designers need months.”

  “Oh, you know I got you covered, girl.” Lola takes a big gulp of her drink, her gaze falling to Amelia. “I know a designer who will hook you up, and he’s local.”

  “Dante Drake loathes you,” Callie says to Lola. “I wouldn’t ask him to design our girl’s wedding gown.”

  “Yeah, but he’s the best,” Lola challenges. “And he’ll say yes to me.”

  Callie gives her a concerned look and then says, “Fine, you handle the dress.”

  “Amelia can handle the honeymoon,” Lola says. “Our resident travel expert knows all of the hottest places in the world.”

  “We’re not going on a honeymoon,” I point out. “We don’t have enough time. And it’s not like we’re having sex.”

  Callie tilts her head back and laughs. “You keep telling yourself that.”

  I frown at her comment.

  “Don’t worry,” Amelia says. “Let me handle all of your travel plans.”

  Amelia writes a column at Market House called The Travel Guru. She’s an expert on all things travel, though she’s still terrified of flying. I don’t blame her. If my parents died the way hers did, I wouldn’t even want to look at an airplane. I give her a lot of credit for pushing through her fear to do her job.

  “We’re going to be in Nassau,” I say. “Doesn’t that count as the honeymoon?”

  Amelia shakes her head. “No, you need to get away from your wedding guests. That’s not a honeymoon if you have to entertain people.”

  “But it’s not a real wedding,” I say under my breath. “So, what difference does it make? This whole thing is just for show… and pictures.”

  “True,” Lola says, playing with her straw. “But why not milk it for all it’s worth?”

  “Fine,” I say. “Nate told me to plan the wedding as if it were real.”

  “How about this?” Callie says in an authoritative tone. “Lola is in charge of your wardrobe. Amelia will handle the honeymoon. Jules is on sexy wedding lingerie to embarrass you with at your bridal shower. And I’ll work on everything else.”

  I turn my head toward Callie and laugh. “You mean you’ll tell everyone what to do?”

  Callie flicks her long brown hair over her shoulder and smiles. “Naturally.”

  “Any place in particular?” Amelia asks. “I’m thinking somewhere in the Mediterranean.”

  “Nah,” I say. “We only have a few days. I would stick with an island not too far away from Nassau.”

  “Okay, ladies.” Callie raises her glass in the air, and all of us follow suit. “To health, wealth, and getting our girl laid.” I elbow her and she adds, “I mean married…”

  “And here’s to winning the bet,” Amelia says as she clinks her glass against ours.

  “To the bet,” Jules says with a wicked smile. “May Harley lose miserably.”

  Callie chuckles. “And to hooking up with the groomsmen.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Lola winks at Callie. “I’ve got dibs on the best man.”

  “Not if I get to him first,” Callie challenges.

  “And to surviving this wedding,” I say as I tap the edge of their glasses.

  “Good luck,” Jules says.

  Because I’m going to need a lot of it.

  * * *

  At the end of the day, Nate waltzes into my office, dressed in a navy suit that molds to his body. He’s all lean muscle, clean lines, and wearing a smile that could light up the entire city. The dimple pops in his cheek, making me want to reach up and dig my finger into the tiny crevice. Nate sits on the edge of my desk, staring down at me with a mixture of hunger and desire.

  “C’mon, wifey.” He extends his hand and wiggles his fingers. “It’s time to make this official.”

  Time for the big proposal.

  A bit apprehensive, I slip my fingers between Nate’s, and he pulls me up from the chair. I press my palm to his chest, and his other hand slides down my back, holding me against his hard body.

  “Nate,” I whisper.

  “Harley,” he says, his lips inches from mine.

  My breath hitches and Nate must notice because the corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked grin. He swipes my hair out of my face, brushing it behind my ears.

  Is he going to kiss me?

  Unsure, I turn my head away from him, desperate for a second to think. I have mixed feelings about Nate. How can I love and hate him, all at the same time? Well, do I really hate him? He annoys me, but hate is one emotion I’m not sure I feel anymore.

  Irritation, maybe.

  Sexual frustration, definitely.

  I stare out the windows that overlook the city, providing the perfect view of The Philadelphia Museum of Art. It’s already dark outside as the city comes to life, the Parkway buzzing with excitement. I hadn’t missed the winter months in Philly or the early darkness that comes with it. If I were in Los Angeles right now, I would leave work to sunshine and palm trees and go home to my comfy bed and to Willow trying to feed me spring rolls. I miss her. I miss my old home, my old office, and most of all, my old life.

  “We should go,” I suggest.

  When I turn my head, Nate captures the side of my face with his hand. An unspoken exchange occurs between us as our eyes meet. Nate’s piercing green irises have so much fire and intensity in them a shiver rolls down my spine. My cheek tingles where our skin meets, his delicate touch spreading heat throughout my body.

  I can deny Nate all I want. Who am I fooling? Everyone knows I want him back in my life. Even my friends weren’t convinced at lunch. So, Nate must know how I feel, right? How could he not?

  We leave my office without uttering a single word. In the executive lobby, we find a group of coders lounging on leather couches, arguing over who will win the challenge for the week. Richard awards the employee with the most points a bonus. They never know how much they will receive or if it will be monetary. One year, he gave a senior programmer a ten-thousand-dollar bonus. Ever since, the guys have competed on their lunch breaks and after-hours, hoping for the ultimate score.

  “I guess we can’t throw our hats in the ring,” I say to Nate, tipping my head toward the group. “Since we’re senior management.”

  He shakes his head. “No. But we could start our own game… if you want.”

  I cock my head at him, amused. “What do you have in mind?”

  Nate hits the button on the wall, the elevator doors open, and he sweeps me in his arms, pushing me inside. The doors close before anyone can step inside the car with us. He pins my back to the wall, raising my hands above my head as his lips hover over mine.

  “I dare you not to fall in love with me,” he says in a hushed tone.

  I laugh in his face. “Like that would ever happen.”

  Nate’s long fingers graze the side of my face. “I bet you’ll fall in love with me by our wedding night.”

  “Never gonna happen,” I challenge. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”

  “I know you, Harley, and I know what you want. I know what makes you tick.”

  “Okay, Casanova,” I quip. “If you somehow manage to make me fall in love with you, what do you get in return?”

  “You,” he says without hesitation. “And you have to take my last name.”

  I press my lips together, thinking over my response. “And if you fail, what do I get?”

  “What do you want?”

  You. My best friend. The boy I loved so deeply I had to move across the country to get away. I wish I could say those things to him. Instead, I mutter something stupid, something I can’t take back.

  “I want you to let me go,” I say, resolute.

  His eyes find mine as the elevator reaches the ground floor. “Then, I guess I have my work cut out for me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nate

  What was I thinking?

  I gambled everything on a stupid bet, one I can’t afford to lose. Mark my words, Harley will fall madly in love with me by the time we say I do. There’s no way I am letting her go, not after years of waiting for her to return.

  Lacing my fingers between hers, I lead Harley toward the back of the jewelry store, where Angelo is waiting behind a counter with sapphire and diamond rings on display. Harley wants an engagement ring fit for a royal, the closest replica to Princess Diana’s she can find. She doesn’t think I know her anymore, but not much has changed about her. She drew her ideal engagement ring in her sketchbooks when we were kids. I’ve watched over her shoulder as she envisioned a wedding fit for every Jane Austen fan.

  “Angelo,” I say as we approach the elderly store owner. “Thanks for closing the store for us.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. King.” He dips his head low, a bright smile plastered on his withered face. “How is your father?”

  Angelo helped my father select an engagement ring for my mother over thirty years ago. But this is my first time buying jewelry for a woman. I never had a reason to step foot inside his store until now. And because it’s for Harley, I’d asked Angelo to show us his best gems. I’ll spare no expense when it comes to making Harley happy.

  “He’s good,” I say as I shake his hand. “Busy with work. He hasn’t had much need for jewels since my mom left.”

  As usual, I say something to make the mood uncomfortable. I have to work on that.

  Angelo gives me a closed-mouth smile and waves his hand across the counter, where several velvet jewelry trays are on display for us. “I have a limited selection of sapphire and diamond rings. If none of these meet your approval, I can design a custom ring.”

  Harley’s eyes widen as she looks at the jewels, covering her mouth with her hands. She stares, unblinking, not moving an inch. Is she excited, nervous, wishing she could back out? I wish she would say something because the suspense of not knowing is killing me.

  Angelo slides one of several velvet jewelry trays in front of Harley. She lowers her hands from her mouth and taps her nails on the glass counter. Some of the rings have more diamonds than sapphires, where others are a perfect mixture of both stones. But only one ring in this set resembles what Harley drew when we were kids.

  Angelo points his wrinkled finger at a large round sapphire surrounded by diamonds set in white gold. “This one,” he says with a thick Italian accent. “Do you like?”

  Harley peeks up at me, her blue eyes wide and watery. She loves it. Even before she says the words aloud, I know this is the ring.

  She bobs her head. “Yes, this is perfect.”

  “The center gem is a ten carat Ceylon sapphire,” Angelo tells her, lifting the ring from the velvet. “Not as large as Princess Diana’s but close enough.”

  And not as expensive.

  Harley takes the ring from his hand, appraising it with care. She holds it like a newborn baby, careful not to drop it.

  “We’ll take this one,” I say to Angelo. “Do you mind giving us a second alone?”

  Angelo nods. “Take as much time as you need.”

  Once we’re alone, Harley looks up at me.

  “This is…” She blows out a deep breath. “I can’t believe…”

  I take the ring from her fingers and drop to one knee in front of her. She gasps at the sight of me below her, still in disbelief that she’s agreed to go through with this marriage. I’m shocked she hasn’t tried to run yet. I was so sure she would bail if given the chance.

  Raising the ring in front of her, I grab her left hand, hoping I don’t screw this up. I rehearsed what I would say in my head all day at work. I could hardly focus on the beta feedback for Ashborn with how much my mind drifted back to Harley.

  “Harley Elizabeth McQueen,” I say, attempting to still my trembling hand. “You’re the most frustrating woman I have ever known, constantly challenging me at every turn.” She rolls her eyes, a smile still in place. “When we were kids, you were my best friend, the best part of my day, and without you, I would have been lost. A long time ago, we ruled our imaginary kingdom together, and if you’ll marry me, I’ll treat you like a queen, now and forever.”

  Tears slide down her cheeks, coating her freckled skin. “Nate,” she whispers. “That was…”

  Please don’t say horrible. Stupid.

  The worst proposal ever spoken.

  “That was perfect.” She covers her heart with her free hand as I slip the ring onto her finger. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  Before I can push myself up from the tiled floor, Harley sinks down in front of me. She shakes her head, her gaze shifting between the ring and my face.

  “I knew you had it in you,” she says.

  I give myself a mental pat on the back, thankful I knocked it out of the park.

  Harley gives me a wicked grin. “I’m glad you put your pride aside by the end of your speech.” She kisses my cheek, her lips soft against my skin. “Thank you, Nate.”

  * * *

  I sit behind my desk, my gaze flicking between several computer monitors at once. My eyes glaze over as I read through the minutes from the emergency board meeting. Adrenaline surges through my veins, my heart slamming into my chest, as I recall every second of the ambush. Carl Voss bought his way onto the board, and until I can come up with a better solution, Titan Tech owns our asses. Between our financial troubles and my personal life, Queen Takes King is barely hanging on by a thread.

  I spent my morning taking it up the ass like a good little bitch, keeping my mouth shut while every board member had their say in my personal affairs. A few members even asked for my resignation from the board. At that point, I broke my silence. That will happen when you learn to suck your own dicks, I told them. So, yeah, not fucking happening. As expected, that didn’t go over well.

  Mr. High and Mighty, Carl Voss, looked like he was going to pass out from shock. Wall Street Santa went postal and threw me out of the conference room. At least I had fun fucking with my dad. To top off the shit show, Stefan brought his fuck toy to the meeting, claiming she was there to “take notes.” Though, I’m pretty sure he was getting a handy under the table like a teenager. And my dad told Voss we were wholesome men who understood family values. Yeah, fucking right. We’re animals dressed in Gucci suits with loose morals and questionable business practices.

  An email from Danika Kane pops up in the corner of my screen. Cursing to myself, I click on it, expecting to get a rash of shit. I’m sure my dad has told her about the meeting by now. He tells Danika everything. She probably knows what color briefs he’s wearing today.

  Hey Little King,

  Here’s the deets for the cake testing…

  Franklin Hall 7PM. Don’t be late.

  I don’t understand why we have to sample cake for the wedding. It doesn’t matter what I want. The women in my life wear the pants. So, I type out a quick reply.

  Hey Work Momma,

  FYI! A little king is still a prince.

  We’ll be there. Chill.

  Danika calls my dad Big King, I’m Little King, and Stefan is Baby King. My mother was almost never around when I was a child. She doesn’t have a maternal bone in her Chanel covered body. I have known Danika for almost as long as Harley. Danika is like a mother to Stefan and me. My father trusts her like family, knowing she has our backs. Sometimes, she’s a royal pain in my ass, but Danika has my best interests at heart. I know she does everything with love, even when she yells to get the message across.

  I lean back in my chair, frustrated when I scroll through the comments from the beta testers. They’re in our private chat box, bitching about how much they hate level thirty of Master of Shadows.

  Because you can’t beat it, motherfuckers.

  I flew through the same level, though to my credit, I designed the interface and most of the storyboards, which gives me a slight advantage. Still, since childhood there was no video game I couldn’t beat, no level I couldn’t crack. My friends accused me of cheating and threatened not to play with me. People hate to lose, and I learned a long time ago that there’s always a way to come out on top, no matter the situation. Isn’t that how I finally got the girl?