I was hoping she would forget about the game until after we were married. If I lose my muse again, it will remain an untitled project on my hard drive forever.

  “I thought you would be more excited,” she groans.

  “I am,” I admit. “It’s just…”

  What do I even say?

  “You wanted to stall for as long as possible,” she says, irritated. “Because you’re afraid to finish the game.”

  She has me there.

  I have never avoided a project the way I have this game. It scares me as much as losing Harley again. All of the pain and fear from the past comes creeping back whenever I try to work on the game. It’s never right, not the same without her.

  “I’m ready,” I lie. “So, when do we start?”

  She drops the charcoal pencil on her desk, lifts the sketchpad, and hands it to me. “How about now?”

  * * *

  I arrive last to the tuxedo shop. In a room full of successful alpha males, showing up on time means you’re ten minutes late.

  A pretty brunette, dressed in a tight red dress greets me at the front counter. “You must be the groom,” she says with a bright smile.

  “How did you guess? Do I look like I’ve given up on life already?”

  She presses her lips together, stifling a laugh, and extends her hand. “Right this way, Mr. King. We started with your groomsmen, but I can personally fit you for your tux.”

  “I’m okay for now. I’m gonna have a drink, and then I’ll come find you.”

  When I enter our private sitting area, Stefan is busy with a woman who is taking his measurements. My younger brother is oblivious to my presence. He’s too busy hitting on the girl as she drops to her knees in front of him to measure his inseam. I think about the bet Harley’s friends made about the best man and laugh. Good luck, ladies. Stefan is worse than me when it comes to women, though he’s smart enough to keep his exploits out of the tabloids.

  Alec Hartwell is getting fitted next to Stefan. He raises his hand to wave and then goes back to typing on his phone. Reid Grayson is lounging on a plush armchair like an entitled prince, knocking back a glass of champagne with his dress shoe kicked up on the table in front of him. Of course, Reid is already working on a buzz. I rarely see him without a drink in his hand.

  “Look who decided to show up.” Reid raises his glass to me. “And here I thought you were the sad son of a bitch who’s getting married. You’ll probably be late for the wedding.”

  “Hey, asshole,” I mutter as I shake his hand.

  Reid knows the deal. All of my groomsmen do. No one close to Harley or me would ever believe we’re dating, let alone engaged. Reid was at the bar with me the night I went home with Alexa and will take my secret to the grave.

  “I can’t believe you’re going through with this,” Reid says, disgusted. “Men like us don’t get married.”

  I sit in the chair next to him and fill a champagne glass. “There are worse things.”

  Like losing a company.

  He rolls his shoulders and tips his glass to his lips. “I guess.”

  “I don’t have much choice,” I remind him.

  “Next time,” he says, his eyes fixed on me. “Be more discrete.”

  Ignoring him, I gulp down the glass of champagne in my hand.

  Reid taught me the importance of non-disclosure agreements. Until a few weeks ago, Reid was in London, running Grayson Industries. Now, he’s forced to step in as CEO of Market House Press, the women’s magazine his mother founded, because his younger brother couldn’t keep it in his pants.

  “If you were in my shoes,” I say, “you would do this, too.”

  Reid snickers. “I wouldn’t put myself in your shoes.”

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  He winks and then pours himself another glass, drinking it in one swallow.

  Parker is on the phone, most likely with Jess. He has his back turned to me, scratching his dark hair as he mutters under his breath. The poor guy is so in love with Jess that even he doesn’t see it. But I guess the same could be said about Harley and me.

  Reid slides his leg off the table and leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee. “Where are we going for your bachelor party?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  His jaw ticks. “Why the hell not?”

  “I have reporters watching me, waiting for me to screw up again. Harley is putting her reputation on the line for me. I can’t risk getting into any more trouble with women who are not her.”

  He groans. “You’re no fun.”

  “I’m going to have fun watching you squirm at the wedding.”

  Reid narrows his eyes at me. “And why is that?”

  “Your new employees are Harley’s bridesmaids.”

  He sets the empty glass on the table, his nostrils flared. “What are you talking about?”

  “Jules, Callie, Lola, and Amelia are old friends. Harley asked them to be in our wedding.”

  He looks lost in thought, as if the names don’t ring a bell for him. A minute passes before realization lights in his eyes, and he says, “You’ve got to be joking. Those girls are…” He grinds his teeth together, looking more annoyed than usual. “They’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since I got back to Philly.”

  “We’ve been friends for years. I thought you met Callie before.”

  After his mother’s death, Reid disappeared for a while. Katrina Grayson was an icon and an inspiration for a lot of women. He took her death hard, which led to him drinking more than his usual. Ever since, he hasn’t been the same Reid.

  He shakes his head. “No, I think I’d remember her loud mouth. She doesn’t shut up. And her friend, The Date Diva, she really knows how to work my nerves.”

  “Jules.”

  “Yeah. That one. She had the nerve to hand me her card and tell me to write into her column for dating advice.”

  I laugh so hard, I spit champagne on his Brioni suit. Reid’s nose wrinkles in disgust as he wipes my drink off his shoulder.

  “That sounds like Jules,” I say after a moment of silence. “Did you take her up on the offer?”

  “No,” Reid snaps. “She’s arrogant and annoying. Who the hell does she think she is? I don’t need her help meeting women.”

  “I’m guessing you were your usual ray of sunshine self when you met.”

  He shoves a hand through his dark hair, his eyes on the women across the room, measuring Stefan and Marco for their tuxedos. “She yelled at me for sitting on her stool. Apparently, Juliet Frost thinks every stool at The Fox Hole belongs to her.”

  “I told Harley to pair you and Jules together for the wedding.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he growls. “Anyone but her.” He shakes his head, tugging at the ends of his hair. “She’s so…”

  Reid has a crush on Jules. He’s never acted like this before with another woman. This should be an interesting wedding. We have two bets going for Harley and me. One for the best man. And a whole lot of love-hate and sexual tension between friends and co-workers.

  I type out a quick text to Harley, telling her to match Jules and Reid together. Harley mentioned the pairing to me earlier, and I told her I didn’t care. But now, after seeing Reid’s reaction to Jules, I have to see how this unfolds.

  “Yo!” Parker says as he pockets his cell phone. “When did you get here?”

  “A few drinks ago.”

  “Oh.” He glances down at the almost full glass in his hand. “I guess I’m behind. Jess wouldn’t stop talking my ear off.”

  I raise my glass, gesturing for him to drink with me, and he does.

  “What’s she bitching about now?” Reid growls.

  “She couldn’t find her iPad,” Parker says, refilling his glass. “Then, she lost her laptop. It was under her bed. I swear it’s like I need to put a tracking device on her shit.”

  Parker and Jess share an apartment, but he’s more like a caretaker with how much he has to help her.

  “That girl needs to be on meds,” Reid says with zero emotion.

  “Hey, don’t talk about Jess like that,” Parker snaps. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “So have you,” Reid points out. “But you don’t fall apart every time you have to act like an adult.”

  “Leave it alone,” Parker shouts, flinging his hand out. “Don’t fucking talk about Jess.”

  Jess is like Parker’s wife without the benefits. He takes his relationship with her seriously. Even though Jess could use a good therapist and some medication, Parker will always baby her.

  “You’re in a mood today,” I say to Reid. “Why don’t you crawl out of all of our asses?”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighs. “Long day.”

  “Because of Jules?” I wiggle my eyebrows, which earns me a nasty look.

  “Yeah, I guess. I wish I could fire her.”

  Parker drops into the chair across from Reid, glaring at him. But his focus is ripped away from the conversation by a text message. He groans as he reads it. “Dammit, Jess.” Annoyed, he lifts the half-full bottle of champagne from the table, gulping it down in one long swig.

  “Why would you fire her?” I ask Reid. “Jules is the top dating expert in the country. No one knows love like The Date Diva, right?”

  Reid frowns at my use of the tagline for Jules’ column. “That’s why I can’t fire her.”

  “What did she do?”

  He blows out a deep breath. “She’s just so…”

  “Distracting,” I offer.

  “You like her,” Parker says with laughter in his tone. “Wow, Reid likes a woman. How about that? I didn’t think you liked anyone.”

  “No, I don’t,” Reid grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s my employee.”

  “Since when does that stop you?” Parker challenges with a wicked grin plastered on his face.

  Reid ignores him.

  Stefan slaps me on the back. “You’re up, big bro.”

  I glance over my shoulder at the women standing behind Stefan.

  “We have room for two more,” the blonde says.

  “I volunteer as tribute,” Parker says as he gets up from the chair.

  Alec plops down in Parker’s chair, revealing colorful sleeves of tattoos as he leans back and pounds the rest of the champagne from the bottle. “What’s up with the pussy drinks? We need something stronger than this shit. Who wants to go to The Fox Hole after this?”

  A resounding yes echoes through the room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Harley

  Our private bridal suite is a mess. Callie and Lola tore through every rack in the store, adding dresses to the oversized ottoman at the center of the room until they spilled onto the floor. All of the colors and styles are wrong for my wedding. In fact, they look like they’re from another decade.

  “What are you guys doing?” I ask no one in particular. “No one’s worn hot pink to a wedding since the eighties.”

  Callie flicks her brown hair over her shoulder and chuckles. “Don’t be silly, woman. We’re not wearing any of these to your wedding.”

  I cock an eyebrow at her. “Then, what are you doing?”

  “Don’t you remember prom dress shopping?” Callie slides her hands onto her narrow hips, giving me a knowing look. “Have I taught you nothing? You try on the ugliest ones first, take pics for Insta and Snap, and then save the winners for last.”

  How could I forget prom? I was hoping Nate would ask me to go with him. For months, I had planned the exact dress I would wear. I envisioned our first kiss, our first everything.

  “Dress montage,” Lola yells, throwing her arms above her head. “Jules, get your phone out. You’re on Snap duty.”

  My friends post their entire lives on Snapchat and Instagram, but for them, it’s also an occupational hazard. It’s not the same in my line of work. I keep my personal life out of the view of the media. The less they know about the heirs of Queen Takes King, the better.

  “No way,” Jules protests. “I want to try them on, too.”

  “Just do it,” Lola groans. “And make sure my ass looks hot.” Jules frowns, and Lola blows her a kiss. “I’ll switch places with you in five, ‘kay?”

  “Yeah, whatever, bitch,” Jules jokes as she reaches into her purse for her cell phone. “Start with the puke green ones.” She points at the dresses in the middle of the pile. “They’re the worst.”

  “Yeah, right.” Callie holds up the ugliest yellow dress I’ve ever seen. “This one takes the cake.”

  Amelia grabs it from her hand, looking at herself in the long mirror with a wicked smile. “We’ll look like bananas in this dress.”

  “Ooh,” Lola says, grabbing two more dresses, both of them the foulest shade of red that almost looks like dried blood. “I love that idea. We can be fruits.”

  “More like fruit cakes,” I quip.

  Lola sticks her tongue out at me. “Shut it, Bridezilla.”

  “Ha! I know you’re not talking about me.”

  “You’re being a stick up the ass.” Lola tips her head toward the dresses. “Grab a few and come play with us.”

  “Love it,” Amelia says, shoving a bridesmaid dress at my chest. “Try this one on first.”

  “Wait… what about my dress?”

  Lola waves her hand. “I got you covered, babe. We’re meeting Dante Drake at his studio. He’ll have your dream wedding gown ready for the runway before we leave for the Bahamas.”

  “I have to tell you guys something,” I say, hoping they won’t get mad. “You’re not going to like it.”

  All of their heads snap in my direction.

  “Nate asked Reid Grayson to be in our wedding.”

  The air along with the energy gets zapped from the room.

  “What?” Jules booms. “No, not Reid.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Callie asks, annoyed as she looks over at Jules.

  Amelia bites her lip. “How many ways can you spell awkward?”

  Lola chuckles. “I guess we better try harder not to get fired before the wedding.”

  Confused, I narrow my eyes at her. “Why would you get fired?”

  “Because Jules keeps pissing Reid off,” Callie explains. “He calls her into his office at least once a day.”

  “That’s because he likes her,” Lola challenges. “He’s got a major boner for our Date Diva.”

  “He does not,” Jules protests. “That man is so… infuriating.”

  “Nate asked me to pair Jules and Reid together,” I confess.

  “Nooo…” Jules grits her teeth. “I can’t stand him. He’s such an arrogant asshole. We’ll kill each other by the end of the night.”

  “You like him,” Callie says in a songlike voice. “Just admit it, babe.”

  “Never,” Jules shoots back.

  “Jules got into a little fight with Reid the first time we met him,” Amelia says at my side.

  I lean in, curious. “What happened?”

  “Callie almost got her ass kicked by some lunatic with brass knuckles,” she continues.

  “In my defense,” Callie says, raising her finger. “I didn’t know that guy had a girlfriend.”

  Jules waves her hand dismissively and snorts. “You were on the prowl that night. I doubt you even bothered to ask him before you shoved your tongue in his mouth.”

  “Anyway,” Amelia says, ignoring them. “Reid offered us a ride home in his limo. I didn’t realize it was Gray until we were on our way home.”

  Only those close to Reid Grayson call him Gray. Most of us have run in the same circles for years. It’s hard not to in this town.

  “That sounds like a fun night,” I say with laughter in my voice. “A typical night out with the Market House girls.”

  “Not quite,” Jules says. “Reid’s had it in for me ever since. He wishes he could fire me and lets me know every chance he gets, which is more often than you would think.”

  “Because you told him he needs help with women,” Callie interjects. “What did you expect? A man like Reid Grayson is used to women dropping to their knees to suck him off, and you go and open your mouth and challenge him.”

  “He could act like an adult and forget about that night,” Jules challenges. “If I had known he was my new boss, I wouldn’t have said those things to him.”

  “Men like Gray,” Amelia says, “don’t like it when women tell them what to do.”

  “No, I think Reid likes a challenge,” Callie says with a wicked grin aimed at Jules. “It also gives him a reason to talk to Jules.”

  Jules bites her lip, looking away from Callie as if she’s hiding something from her. Does Jules like him? She seems a little hot and bothered over this conversation. I wouldn’t blame her if she did have a crush on Reid. He’s the son of a billionaire, disgustingly handsome, Mensa smart, and from what I’ve heard, amazing in bed. His arrogance is his biggest problem. Reid wears it like a shield, keeping everyone away from him.

  Lola removes a bottle of Grey Goose from the Ferragamo shoulder bag she probably maxed out a credit card to buy. “Enough about Boss Man. Who’s up for a cocktail?”

  “Let’s get this party started,” Callie beams, swiping the bottle from Lola’s hand.

  * * *

  An hour after the girls order their dresses, we take an Uber to The Fox Hole. The girls were pretty buzzed by the time we left the bridal shop. Lola danced on top of the dresses on the ottoman, which almost got us thrown out of the store. Then, on our ride over to the bar, they took turns singing pop songs. Our driver kept telling them to be quiet. I thought he was going to pull over and leave us on the side of the road.

  Callie sounded like a cat coughing up a hairball as she belted out the songs. Jules couldn’t stop laughing long enough to finish the refrain. Amelia was busy texting someone, muttering a few words here and there under her breath. And Lola had to further pester our driver. She tugged on his headrest, singing loudly in his ear, begging him to sing along with them. It was pretty awful. The four of them are completely nuts without alcohol, and when drunk, they’re a nightmare.