“I like that idea. We can sneak away from our guests and climb into our castle.”

  Harley rolls her head to the side, seeking my warmth when she weaves her fingers between mine. “And we can create new memories.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Harley

  I stand on the bridal platform in Dante Drake’s studio, staring at myself in the mirror in awe. In less than thirty days, one of the top fashion designers in the country created an exact replica of the wedding gown I envisioned. How is this my life? When I handed Lola my sketches, I never expected to have the real thing touch my skin. I was convinced no one would ever take my drawings and create magic from them. But Dante is a magician, who must have an Elder Wand lying around because… Wow!

  “Dante,” I say in disbelief, smoothing a hand down the front of the mermaid gown. “I’m at a loss for words. It’s like you crawled into my head and plucked the dress from my brain. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

  “Totes,” Lola chimes. “After Nate sees you, he’s going to need CPR.” She taps me on the backside. “Girl, your ass looks so good in this dress even I want to take a bite out of it.”

  I howl with laughter. “Please don’t.”

  Lola pats Dante on the shoulder. “You crushed it, boo. I thought your Alaya gown was the bomb, but this one takes the cake.”

  Dante glides a hand through his slick, black hair, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You flatter me, ladies, but it’s the model that makes this particular gown special. You’re a very talented artist,” he says to me, his gaze piercing me as he looks at me in the mirror. “If you hadn’t been so thorough, I don’t know if I could have produced the same result. It’s hard to find people with your skills. If you ever find yourself out of work, you know where to find me.”

  A smile tugs at my mouth. “Thank you.”

  I have no problem getting strangers to praise my art, but when it comes to my own father, it has always been an uphill battle. Funny how that works, huh? He will never acknowledge my abilities. Why do I even care anymore? It’s not like it matters. Like a good daughter, I’m marrying Nate to fix the problem. Don’t I always do the right thing? Whatever my family wants, they get.

  But this dress… It’s the one thing I wanted and now have.

  Starting at the bodice, the white strapless mermaid gown has a hint of turquoise stones that trail down to the detachable train. I figured since we’re having a beach ceremony—my dream wedding—that I might want some freedom. Most brides have to change into a more comfortable gown later, but I wanted accessibility and comfort. The fabric fits my body like a dream, hugging my thighs perfectly, making me feel like a sea goddess.

  If I had a crown made from pearls, shells, and coral, I would look the part of a sea queen. Which reminds me… Nate is supposed to handle my jewels for the wedding—a pearl necklace, earrings, and matching tiara. They’re his gifts to me, aside from his “huge” package he promised to let me open. And I have to pick up the Bulgari rose gold watch Nate requested.

  He’s still getting the bottle of lube for shits and giggles. Because, why not? You never know when you might need it.

  I twirl a few times and smile in the mirror as the train fans out around my ankles. A bit of cleavage spills out from the top that scoops low without making me feel too exposed. Nate will love it, no doubt.

  My stomach fills with butterflies, a mixture of giddy anticipation and nerves. Weeks ago, I accepted Nate’s proposal, unsure if he would follow through on his promises. I raise my hand to stare at the ring. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I recall his proposal in the jewelry store. I wanted him to set aside his pride, and he did. I wanted a replica of Princess Diana’s ring, and he found a close second.

  Maybe, after all this time, Nate is the one. What if we were supposed to walk down the aisle together all along? It feels too much like a childhood fantasy, something I wished for a decade ago. This feels too good to be true, something I can lose in a heartbeat.

  I spin around to face Dante. “Thanks for doing this on short notice. You’re a serious lifesaver.”

  He extends his hand to help me down from the platform, and I slip my fingers between his. “My pleasure. I’m a big fan of The Last Empire video games. When Lola told me you’re Jonathan McQueen’s daughter, I damn near had a stroke.”

  I hadn’t pegged him as a fanboy. Most people know the names of the games, not so much the founders of the company. With all of the gossip splashed across the internet because of Nate, I guess it’s hard not to know our names. And if this wedding doesn’t go according to plan, the world will know us for an entirely different reason. We could end up like the real-life version of the family from Schitt’s Creek.

  The King and Queen dethroned.

  I cock my head at Lola. “Why didn’t you tell me Dante was a fan? I would’ve brought some merch with me.”

  “Not necessary.” Dante waves his hand. “Every news outlet in the country will have your face plastered in their papers with my dress on your body.”

  Amelia shoves her fingers into her mouth and whistles. “Looking hot, babe. You look like Ariel in the flesh.”

  “Tail included,” Jules jokes with laughter in her tone. “Will you turn into a human girl after the ceremony?”

  I throw my head back and laugh.

  Dante excuses himself to take a phone call, giving me some alone time with my bridesmaids. The girls have been with me every step of the way, real troopers about this sham wedding. I couldn’t ask for better friends to come along with me on this journey. After years of living in Los Angeles, I was afraid I would come back to Philly with my head tucked between my legs, praying everyone would forgive me for staying away for so long. But I lucked out with everyone welcoming me back with open arms.

  Callie hugs me from behind, her flowery perfume fills my nostrils. “You’re losing the bet, woman. Mark my words. Nate’s going to pop a major boner in the middle of the ceremony and caveman drag you down the aisle over his shoulder to his bed.”

  I shake my head. “Nate won’t know how to get me out of this thing.”

  Callie snorts in my ear. “You little vixen. I know you will give into his fine ass on your wedding night.”

  “All of you bet on me to lose,” I point out. “So, how does anyone actually win said bet?”

  “Meh! Don’t kill the vibe.” Callie rolls her shoulders, unaffected. “Anyway, it’s all in good fun. If you guys hookup, high-five for you, but if you don’t, at least I’ll have one of the groomsmen to bone. Sex on the beach isn’t just the name of a drink when I’m in the Bahamas.”

  Callie is so crude that sometimes I wonder how we became friends. Where I’m shy and reserved, she’s outgoing and wild. Her sexual appetite is on par with Nate and his manwhore brother.

  “I have dibs on them, too,” Lola reminds her. “We have the best man bet.”

  “We don’t have many options,” Callie shoots back, raising her hand in the air to tick off the available men in the bridal party. “Jules has dibs on Reid.”

  “No, I don’t,” Jules shouts without hesitation, her cheeks flushed. “I’ll take anyone but Reid.”

  Amelia snickers. “I think your nose grew from that lie.”

  I chuckle at her Pinocchio reference.

  “It’s not a lie,” Jules challenges, pushing her hands to her narrow waist. “Reid Grayson is an asshole who thinks he owns the world. And I’m not for sale.”

  “Bah!” Callie groans, ignoring her comment. “You’re whatever Boss Man wants you to be. Who are you kidding?”

  “Anyway,” Lola interrupts. “No more Reid talk, please. I’m sick of hearing about him.”

  “Like I was saying,” Callie groans, her eyes pointed at Jules. “Before I was so rudely interrupted, we were discussing our limited options. We have Reid, Stefan, and Dylan up for grabs. Reid is a hard pass for me.” She makes a sour face and raises another finger. “Maybe Jules can fuck the pole out of his tight ass, but I’m def not game.”

  “I’m seriously going to murder you,” Jules snaps, though I can tell she’s just messing with Callie. “Dexter style. With plastic wrap. The whole shebang.”

  Callie laughs, holding her hands out in front of her like a zombie. “Take me to your lair.”

  “Keep going,” Amelia urges, ignoring their stupidity.

  Amelia seems to be the one to hold this band of weirdos together. She’s the responsible one, the only one who can afford their own place, and the one who calms all of them down. Maybe it was because she raised herself from an early age. I learned a long time ago that money doesn’t buy happiness. It also doesn’t make up for the lack of parenting. In Amelia’s case, her parents were taken from her, their bodies found at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Mine, they just suck, two miserable bastards who never should have had a child together.

  Callie clicks her tongue and then continues, “Dylan is hot, like if Zac Efron and Johnny Depp had a lovechild, except even more eccentric and moody. Yeah, so not really my type, which leaves Stefan. He checks off all my boxes. But that little shit always turns me down. Whatevs. I know it’s just foreplay.”

  “No,” Jules says with a snort. “It’s because he’s not into you. News flash, the entire male population isn’t DTF just for you.” Down to fuck.

  “Please,” Callie grunts. “Stefan would stick his cock into any wet hole. He’s not picky.”

  “Then, how come he hasn’t put it in your wet hole?” Jules asks with a straight face.

  “Ladies,” Amelia says, moving into the center of the room with a glass of champagne in hand. “Must I remind you that we have a bridal shower to rock, a bachelorette party to plan, and a sexy bride to corrupt?”

  Jules gives me a wicked smile, raising a glass of champagne to her lips. “Let the corrupting begin.”

  “We’re saving the bachelorette party for the island,” Amelia says. “I spoke to the resort this morning, and we’re all set.”

  I glance over my shoulder at her. “Should I be worried?”

  Callie lets out an evil cackle that answers my question.

  * * *

  I feel an odd sense of comfort when I step inside Nate’s childhood home. We created hundreds of memories here, most of them good, some of them sad. His father’s mansion is packed with friends, family, and even our business associates. I don’t know half of the guests at my own party.

  Nate slides his hand to my hip and guides me through the living room, acknowledging a few of his coders. I’m shocked to see so many men, none of which look like they want to be here. Can I blame them? The house looks like Barbie had a baby with The Little Mermaid.

  Sticking to my wedding theme, my bridesmaids strung turquoise beads and shells from the chandeliers. Splashes of coral and pink pop against the greenish-blue hues. Real sand is littered on the floor along with beach chairs and towels. It’s done tastefully, but I bet Richard had a cardiac when he saw the girls dumping cheap sand on his pristine slate floors. When Nate and I were kids, Richard went ballistic if we spilled water on the floor.

  “How are you doing?” Nate says against my ear. “You want to run away yet?”

  My skin tingles from his breath, and I find myself leaning into his arms, allowing him to envelop me in his warmth. This relationship started as a business proposition, but it’s becoming so damn real. At least it is for me.

  I smile up at him. “I wish I could. I’d run away with you.”

  “We can bow out at any time. Just say the word.”

  “My dad would kill me if I left early,” I point out. “While Voss and his wife are in the house, my dad made it crystal clear that my ass is to stay put and I’m to smile like I want to be here.”

  Nate rolls his shoulders, shaking me along with him. “Who cares about them? This is your party. Everyone is here for you, not them.”

  Glancing around the room, I doubt his last statement. Most of the people spread throughout the first floor know Nate and our fathers. Years of living in Los Angeles has left me out of the loop. I’m nothing more than the daughter of Jonathan McQueen, even at my own party. Stefan and Parker are here, entertaining some of our co-workers. Parker brought Jess, who I hadn’t seen in forever, and of course, Stefan is hitting on anyone with a skirt.

  Callie and Lola haven’t stopped chasing after him. They’re taking the best man bet seriously, though I doubt either of them will win. Stefan was pretty adamant about them being like his sisters. But hey, I could be wrong. They could get drunk at the wedding and make bad decisions together.

  “This is our party,” I correct, squeezing Nate’s arm. “Let’s get through the next part, and then we can make our escape.”

  Nate hugs me closer to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Whatever you say, wifey. After this party is over, I’m taking you to the treehouse and having my way with you.”

  I love that he’s not afraid to show affection toward me in public. But is it only a show for the cameras? For my heart’s sake, I hope not. Another heartbreak from Nate would crush me. More like destroy me.

  “You might have to carry me into the treehouse on your back.” I point a finger at my four-inch heels and sigh. “I forgot to bring a change of shoes.”

  Nate’s handsome face illuminates from his smile that reaches up to his emerald irises. “I need to practice carrying you over the threshold, anyway.”

  I laugh at his comment. “That’s a bit old fashioned, don’t you think?”

  “Says the girl who loves Jane Austen and wants her man to act like Darcy,” he counters, steering me farther into the living room. “I thought you wanted all of the formal wedding shit.”

  I suddenly feel brave, ready to open up to Nate. If I put everything out there and he rejects me, then at least I will know where I stand.

  “You want to know something?”

  “Hmm…” Nate cocks an eyebrow at me. “When it comes to you, Queen, I want to know everything. Don’t leave out a single detail.”

  A warmth spreads through my chest from his words.

  “Harley,” Callie says with a wave, flagging me down as she approaches us. “Are you ready to open your presents?”

  Not really.

  Peeking over at the stack of elaborately wrapped boxes and bags in the corner of the room, I sigh. I specifically told Callie I wanted our guests to donate to their favorite charity in our names instead of buying us presents. And yet, we have enough boxes to open to fill a Mack truck.

  “Some of the guests are getting restless,” she adds.

  “Because you’re denying the men real drinks,” Nate says with an attitude.

  Callie rolls her eyes. “Bridal showers are for women. You can take the menfolk with you and leave if you want to get drunk.” She lifts her hand and gold bracelets jingle on her wrist. “Go ahead. No one’s stopping you, King.”

  Nate tightens his grip on me. “I’m here for Harley.”

  “Aww,” Callie says. “Look at Mr. Manwhore turning into the perfect hubby material overnight.”

  “No fighting, you two,” I interject.

  “You’re on in five.” Callie holds up her palm and wiggles each of her fingers. “I can’t wait to see your face when you open Jules’ present.”

  Chills roll down my neck and back. Jules was in charge of the wedding lingerie.

  “We didn’t label any of our presents,” Callie says with a sly grin. “So, have fun figuring out which one is from Jules.” She rubs her hands together, her body angled away from us as she looks into the room. “This should be fun.”

  After Callie walks away to prepare for the next stage of this nightmare, I turn my attention back to Nate. We stop in front of the bar that separates the living room from the kitchen. He swipes two pink cocktails from a tray and hands one to me. Callie and the girls went a little overboard with their freedom to spend Nate’s money. I don’t know what he was thinking when he gave Callie a blank check and told her to make my day special.

  From the looks of the décor and food, Callie and the girls had some fun. A five-tier cake that could feed hundreds sits on a table beneath a crystal chandelier. All of the alcohol is top-shelf but not what you would expect. Nate’s usual bourbon and whiskey are nowhere in sight. Every drink is either pink or clear and fizzy. We’re not even allowed to have soda or coffee for some reason. The appetizers are fancy: meats wrapped in bacon, pastry puffs filled with crabmeat, individual cups of shrimp cocktail, and even Kobe beef skewers.

  I stare at the pink drink in my hand and shake my head. “I hope it doesn’t taste the way it looks—”

  “Like Pepto-Bismol.” Nate inspects the contents. “Yeah, I don’t know if I want to drink this girly shit.” He scrunches his nose and then sets the flute on the bar. “I bet Reid’s having a stroke by now.”

  I look around the room, and a roar of laughter shakes through me. Reid Grayson is standing next to the French doors that lead to the back yard, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at no one in particular. The dude looks mad all the time, and for no apparent reason. Of course, he’s dressed impeccably in a three-piece tailored suit, wearing it with his usual perma-scowl like it’s another piece of clothing.

  Jules stands next to Reid, attempting to have a conversation with him. Is she suicidal? Her lips move at a rapid pace, and Reid seems genuinely uninterested. She purses her lips and then continues speaking, her body language more frigid than before. Whatever she said finally captures his attention. Reid turns his head, eyes narrowed and cruel. Scary as fuck. Why does Jules even bother with him? Aside from the fact he’s stupidly hot and richer than God, what is the appeal of Reid? Well, I suppose I’m not one to talk. Nate was a complete jerk only a few short weeks ago and now look at him.

  People can change, right?

  “Does Reid ever smile?” I ask Nate.

  His eyes find Reid, and he shakes his head. “Nope. He’s been like this for as long as I’ve known him.”

  “What about when his mom was alive?”