“Ollie,” I yell to the bartender, my empty glass raised in the air. “Another Manhattan on the rocks.”

  Oliver Fox, the bar owner, gives me a once-over before he takes the highball glass from my hand. “You look like you’ve had enough, Nate. Maybe you should give it a rest for the night.”

  “C’mon, bro,” I groan. “Don’t be a dick. After the day I’ve had, I need this.”

  We’ve been friends for years. Ollie is in my inner circle and fully aware of the situation I put my family in with another scandal. When I first met Ollie, he had recently been adopted by George and Carla Fox, the richest family on the East Coast of the United States. He was seventeen, as were nine of his foster brothers, when all of their lives changed forever. The newspapers were shocked a wealthy couple in their late fifties would adopt ten children at once, all within one year of them becoming adults. It was an odd situation, but that’s also how Ollie ended up with his own bar.

  Ollie slides a hand through his long blond hair that curls behind his ears. He gives me the same look I have gotten all day. He feels sorry for me, but I don’t want anyone’s pity.

  “Your face is on the front page of every paper,” he says. “After all the bad press, this is the last place you should be seen.”

  Playboy. Manwhore. Philanderer. Black sheep.

  I have read it all today. You name it, and I have been called it by some news outlet. But the black sheep comment in The Philadelphia Inquirer pissed me off most. They have no idea how right they are about me. The Golden Boy and The Prodigal Son, depending on which day you ask my dad I’m one or the other. But my younger brother is always golden, untouchable, the favorite.

  “Are you kicking me out, Ollie?”

  He rolls his eyes and leans forward, pressing his palms to the bar. “You can’t drink your way out of this problem.”

  I roll my shoulders, a simple movement that forces me to grip the edge of the bar so I don’t fall off the stool. Okay, maybe Ollie is right. Over the past few hours, I’ve drunk my weight in bourbon and sweet vermouth and can barely keep my eyes open.

  “But I can drink until I forget,” I challenge.

  Ollie shakes his head and then slides a glass of water in front of me. “Drink up,” he says, and then taps the bar with his fist. “I’m calling you a cab.”

  “Don’t bother. My Tesla’s parked in the lot around the corner.”

  He holds out his palm. “Give me your keys.”

  Annoyed, I hand my keys over. “I was planning to get an Uber, anyway.”

  Ollie pockets my keys, and then the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile as he raises his hand. “What are you drinking?”

  “The usual,” Callie says from behind me. Then she slides her arm across the back of my neck and speaks against the shell of my ear. “And who do we have here? A King in my court,” she jokes, digging her long nails into my shoulder. “Is the King of Scandals hanging out with the commoners tonight?”

  I glance over my shoulder at Callie Bloom. She’s one of my oldest friends. Well, she’s more Harley’s friend than mine, but we’re still cool. Callie writes a column called The Gossip Queen at Market House, a popular women’s magazine in the city that’s similar to Cosmopolitan. She earned the nickname back in high school after ruining more than a few reputations.

  Nothing gets past The Gossip Queen.

  “Hey, Bloom,” I slur. “What are you doing here? Did Harley send you to give me more shit?”

  She giggles. “No, you idiot.” Callie shrugs off her coat and drapes it over the back of the chair next to me. “I’m meeting the girls here.”

  Jules, Lola, and Amelia work with Callie at Market House, which is only a few blocks away from The Fox Hole.

  “I could use some of Jules’ help,” I admit.

  Juliet Frost writes a column called The Date Diva. She’s an expert when it comes to dating and relationship advice.

  Callie raises a curious eyebrow. “You must be drunker than you look.”

  “I don’t know what to do. Got any ideas on how I can fix this mess I’ve made?”

  “You could ask the real girl to do you a solid and pretend to be your wife.”

  I shake my head. “No can do. She’s not an option.”

  No one can know about her.

  I had just found out that Harley was dating Kevin Frederick, a real estate developer from Beverly Hills. He could give her everything I have and more. I was jealous of him, wishing I could take his place. For a second, I even considered flying to Los Angeles to confess my feelings for her. Luckily, I talked myself out of that one. Harley would have slammed the door in my face, right before laughing at me.

  I couldn’t stand sitting inside my apartment, thinking about Harley and Kevin. So, when I ran into Alexa at a wine bar, she was a good escape for the moment. One night wasn’t supposed to be the downfall of my family’s company.

  “You’re a mess.” Callie nudges me in the arm with her elbow. A silly smirk plays on her face. “I don’t think even Jules can help you. What did Harley say about all of this? Did she ream you out?” When I don’t answer right away, she chuckles. “I know she did. C’mon, Nate, tell me what she said. I bet she gave it to you good.”

  “In so many words, Harley told me that she hates me. And like an idiot, I made a few remarks she didn’t appreciate.”

  Callie frowns, tucking strands of brown hair behind her ears. “You’re such a bonehead. When are you going to get it through your thick skull that women don’t like guys who only talk about sex? Harley, of all people, would never go for that.”

  “But you would,” I point out.

  She holds her hands up and gives me a mischievous look. “Hey, I’m open to new things. I like to live on the wild side. But Harley isn’t like us. She’s a nun compared to me.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, but that’s what I’ve always liked about her. Harley is good, like really good. Not like I was ever good enough for her, anyway.”

  “You guys used to be so close,” she says with a serious tone. “I thought Harley was the girl from the pictures. For a second, I was all excited that you two finally got it on. You and Harley have enough chemistry to burn down a house.”

  I tilt my head back and laugh. “Try telling Harley that.”

  “Of course, she denied it was her. But you have to admit that the blonde looks an awful lot like Harley from the side.” Callie pats my knee, tapping her long fingers in the most annoying fashion. “Tell your oldest friend the truth. Were you with Harley?”

  “Technically, Harley is my oldest friend,” I shoot back to avoid her question.

  She waves her bony finger in front of my face. “Play nice, Nate. You don’t want to get on my bad side. I have too much dirt on you.”

  “You would never,” I challenge.

  An evil grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Try me.” Callie sips from the beer Ollie slides in front of her and then sighs. “Anyway, back to Harley. I need to know. Was it her?”

  “Nope. Definitely not.”

  I wish it were Harley.

  Callie rests her elbow on the bar and turns her body toward me. “So, who’s the girl?”

  “Nobody important. Just someone I picked up at a bar.”

  Callie knows Alexa. We all went to high school together. Even Callie would be pissed if she knew the identity of the girl in the pictures.

  “You need to be more careful next time,” Callie says with a knowing look. “From what I’ve read, your family will lose everything if you don’t find another investor.”

  “Not if I get married in the next thirty days.”

  Callie spits out some of her beer. “Shut. Up. You’re getting married? To who? The girl in the pics?”

  “I said I have to get married, not that I want to. My dad suggested I ask Harley, but I told him to leave her out of it. I’ll find another way.”

  Callie tips the bottle to her lips. “How’s the search going?”

  “I’m sitting at a bar, getting drunk. You do the math.”

  She smirks. “I have some good news for you. Harley’s on her way to Philly.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “What are you talking about? The last time I checked, Harley was in LA.”

  Her eyebrows rise slightly. “Are you keeping tabs on our girl?”

  “No,” I lie. “When I talked to her this morning, she was in her office.”

  “Stalker.” Callie smacks her lips together, smearing her red lip gloss. “You’ve got it bad for Harley, and you know it.”

  “No, I don’t,” I snap.

  “Yes, you do.”

  I hate when she taunts me. No matter how much I try to fool myself, I can’t bullshit Callie. She sees through the witty, sarcastic banter between Harley and me.

  “Don’t think I’m the only one who noticed the girl in the pics looks like Harley.”

  “Plenty of men like blondes.”

  She gives me a wicked look. Much like Harley, Callie is a feisty one. All of Harley’s friends are strong-willed and intense women who like to challenge men.

  “Because I love you like a brother from another mother, let me give you some advice.” I lean into her, and our shoulders touch. “Harley is your only hope of salvaging the Titan Tech deal. I know it’s not in your nature to sit, roll over, or beg, but you need to do whatever it takes to get Harley on board. She pretends to hate you, but I know deep down she still cares about you. I mean, you guys were best friends. I thought you two would get married...”

  “I can’t put her through that,” I counter. “Harley’s given up so much for the company already. She doesn’t want to look at me, let alone marry me. And her dad still won’t give her the promotion she wants, even though she’s earned it twice over.”

  “That’s because she does whatever Daddy wants. Harley makes everyone but herself happy. She likes to go with the flow and not make too many waves. But if you were to suggest to her dad that she deserves a promotion, maybe he would consider it. He’s not in the position to say no to anything right now, not when he needs her to cooperate.”

  “No one will ever believe I’m getting married. And Harley would never go for it.”

  She slaps me on the back. “Go win back your girl and make everyone believe you’re madly in love.”

  Chapter Five

  Harley

  When the doors open to the twenty-third floor, I can’t move from the elevator. Frozen in place, I wipe my sweaty palms down the sides of my pencil skirt. This office was once my playground, where I spent most of my childhood with Nate. My stomach twists like a pretzel as all of the old times with Nate come flooding back to me.

  The move to Los Angeles was more for my sanity than the sunshine. I had to get away from Nate. Working in the same office as him was driving me insane. I couldn’t stand to see him flirt with secretaries in a childish attempt to get my attention. And now, I’m back home, the last place on earth I want to be.

  Before the doors close, I step into the brightly lit hallway. Video game posters cover the walls. Among them is the Queen Takes King company logo I drew for fun. I was surprised when my father asked if he could use my design for the rebranding five years ago. It’s one of my best pieces. Two interlinked crowns sit atop of a stack of playing cards, with the king of spades and the queen of hearts floating midair.

  My dad’s never taken much of anything I do seriously. For once, I thought he was interested in my art. But Dear Old Dad is one of those men who think women should stay home and let the men work. Nate is the only person who has ever fully supported my passion. Sometimes, I miss having Nate around. Whenever I struggled with self-doubt, he was always there to push me forward. He always knew the right things to say.

  A large, circular mahogany desk is at the center of the bright, open lobby. Huge flat-screen televisions are hung on the walls, with plush couches and oversized chairs rounding out the space. Gaming consoles and controllers are scattered on the tables. My father wanted people to feel like they were at home in our office. Our visitors have more tech at their disposal than Best Buy.

  During the lunch hour, our employees have online contests, and at the end of each week, those with the best scores are given small bonuses. Nate’s dad knows how to create an environment that keeps the nerds entertained. Our employee retention is high because of it, but he has no idea how to manage money. That’s the reason we are in this mess.

  The silence soothes me as I walk the halls, staring at each of the projects I helped with over the years. I grew up in an unusual environment. As the only daughter of a gamer, I was raised more like a boy. Sure, I had dresses and makeup and other girly things, but my dad didn’t know what to do with me. And luckily for him, he never had to learn. Because Nate was always there to keep me company.

  I stop in front of Nate’s executive suite. His door is shut, the blinds open enough for me to see the Harley Quinn and Joker figurines on his conference table. My dad named me after the Joker’s girlfriend. He’s obsessed with DC Comics, where Nate’s dad is a major Marvel Comics fan. The two of them can go at it for hours, debating over whether Iron Man is better than Batman. I say it depends if we’re talking about the movies or the comics.

  I smile at the sight of the figurines in Nate’s office. He still has the present I bought him for his eighteenth birthday. It was the last present I ever gave him. Not long after that, we grew apart and things changed.

  “Morning,” I say to my dad as I step inside his office.

  Facing the window behind his desk, he swivels his chair until our eyes meet. His white oxford is crinkled and unbuttoned halfway. A red tie hangs loose around his neck. The dark circles under his eyes make him look as though he got punched. His skin is more wrinkled than the last time I saw him, and his complexion has a sallow look to it.

  “Right on time,” he says in a hushed tone, his voice rough and scratchy. He points at the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit. Dick will be here any minute.”

  I hate my godfather’s nickname. As a child, I thought little about calling him Dick, but as an adult, it sounds weird as hell.

  “Oh, I didn’t know Richard was eating with us.”

  I was hoping it would be the two of us since I haven’t seen him since Christmas. And by the looks of the empty crystal decanter on his desk, we’re not eating any time soon. My dad would rather drink himself into oblivion. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and when he speaks, it sounds as though it pains him.

  “This is a family matter,” my dad says, rubbing his temple with his thumb. “And for this plan to work, we need everyone to play their part.”

  In a few short months, he’s aged five years. His once sandy hair and beard, both of which could use a good trim, are almost completely gray. Years of hard work and dedication have taken its toll on him. He missed recitals and school plays, even my high school graduation. Some men are not meant to be fathers, and my dad is one of them. He put everything before my mom and me. We were nothing more than side characters in his story.

  “Okay, I get that.” I cross my legs and then smooth a hand down the front of my skirt. “So, what’s the plan? Did Voss reconsider?”

  He glances at the watered-down glass of amber liquid on his desk. “Wait until Dick and his boys show.”

  Annoyed, jetlagged, and dead tired, I lean back in the oversized leather chair and sigh. Much like the rest of the company headquarters, his office is a nerd haven. Framed posters of our video games are mixed in with covers of magazines like Wired and Gamer Mag. Jonathan McQueen and Richard King are like the Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak of video games. In the last thirty years, they have been featured in major tech publications hundreds of times. The media loves talking about the family values of our company, which was one of the selling points for Titan Tech.

  At the final meeting that sealed the deal with Titan, I put on an epic performance. We all did. My dad acted like a loving, doting father who actually gives a crap. Even Nate was on his best behavior, all of his wicked charms on full display. Stefan, Nate’s younger brother, wowed Carl Voss with a demo of his new game. He doesn’t have his older brother’s skill with words, but he’s a damn good coder that understands what our customers want. Even Richard talked the best game of his life that day.

  When we come together, the five of us can perform small miracles. But our relationship is like a house of cards, built on a shaky foundation that’s always two seconds from collapsing.

  “Sorry, we’re late,” Richard announces as he enters the room with Stefan in tow. “We had to go over a few last-minute details for Ashborn.”

  My dad raises his arm to look at the platinum Cartier watch on his wrist and rolls his eyes. All of the King men are coders. Richard, much like Stefan, usually gets lost in his work and disregards social norms—like showing up on time. My dad is the polar opposite. Somehow, the two opposites balance each other out.

  Nate is a weird mixture of the two. When he’s late, it’s because he wants you to wait for him. He wants to feel important. A lot of the programmers I know have egos the size of their hard drives. Nate’s so full of himself his ego could eclipse the entire state of Texas.

  My dad narrows his eyes at Richard. “Where’s Nate? This is his mess we have to clean up.”

  “He’s on his way,” Richard says from behind me.

  My dad extends his hand toward the long, oak conference table on the left side of his office. “Shall we?”

  Stefan waves to me. “Hey, you. It’s been a while.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been busy.”

  Stefan nods, and his hair falls in front of his green eyes. All of the King men have the same dark hair, olive skin, and emerald irises, except Richard’s hair is now mostly white.

  Stefan pulls out a chair from the conference table for me. “How’s LA?”

  “I love it,” I admit. “I wish I had more time to go to the beach.”

  “You’re out there to work, not lounge on a beach,” my dad says with venom in his tone.

  “I don’t work twenty-four-seven,” I shoot back.