When the elevator dings, I slide off the bar stool, surprised my doorman sent the deliveryman up to the penthouse without calling first.

  “I’ll be right back. Can you set the table?”

  Harley nods.

  My jaw drops in shock when I see Veronica exit the elevator. Before I can stop her, she storms into my apartment like she owns the place. She’s wearing a skirt so short it looks like underwear, paired with five-inch stilettos that make her legs look even longer. Her pink top scoops down so low I can see her nipples.

  “Hey, baby.” She smiles. “Did you miss me?”

  Her flowery perfume fills my nostrils as she hugs me, pressing her big chest against mine. She layered the perfume on thick tonight. It’s so intoxicating I can barely breathe.

  “It’s Wednesday,” she says in her singsong voice. “Why do you look so surprised to see me?”

  I grab her by the shoulder and attempt to steer her out of my apartment. “Harley lives here now. We’re engaged, and you really need to leave.”

  Veronica laughs. “You’re not engaged to that cow.”

  “Don’t talk about my fiancée like that.”

  Harley marches over to us, her nostrils flared in anger. “Who are you calling a cow, you stupid bitch? Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

  That’s my girl.

  “I don’t understand. What is she doing here? You’re not engaged. I was here last Wednesday. I thought we had a good time. I don’t get it.”

  “Yeah, it’s a long story that I’m not in the mood to tell. It’s complicated.”

  “You don’t even like her,” Veronica challenges. “You complain about her all the time.”

  Harley glares at Veronica, her arms crossed and jaw set in anger. “Either leave willingly or I’ll have security remove you.”

  Veronica throws her hands onto her narrow hips as she locks onto Harley. She scoffs, walking away from me to slam her hand against the button on the wall, getting into the elevator with a nasty expression on her face. Harley is next to flee. Before I can grab her arm, she blows past me, headed toward her bedroom.

  “C’mon, Harley. It’s not what it looks like.”

  She spins around, stopping in the center of the living room to glare at me. “Your booty call of the week came by to make sure you’re satisfied. What’s not to get?”

  “I completely forgot about her,” I counter, hoping she doesn’t punch me. “I figured anyone I saw regularly would’ve read the press release and got the hint.”

  “I wouldn’t assume anything, Nate. How are we supposed to make this work? How is anyone supposed to believe we’re together? If anyone saw her at your apartment, we’re screwed. How would we even explain that?”

  “I don’t know… I just… I don’t know.”

  She turns her back to me and marches toward her room. Before she slams the door in my face, she stops herself. “I need more time, Nate. I don’t even know what to say to you. It’s like you talk a good game, but I don’t know how long we can pull this off. I agreed to this for selfish reasons. I want that promotion. A promotion I wouldn’t have had to work hard for if I were you. I want to be taken seriously but this isn’t the way either.”

  “I know how you feel.”

  “No, you don’t know how I feel,” she snaps. “You’ve never had someone discriminate against you because of your sex. Everyone opens doors for you. Women fall to their knees in front of you. You have women showing up at your door like they’re Domino’s Pizza. It’s just… you’ll never understand what it’s like because you’re you… and I’m me—”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be like that, Harley. We’ll be partners. You’ll be my wife. And even though you’re my future ex-wife, you’ll still be my wife for long enough to count for something. And trust me, by the time this is over, your dad will take you seriously. He’ll see how good you are. He’ll see what I’ve always seen in you.”

  She bites her trembling lip. “Call me when our dinner is here. I need a minute.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  Chapter Ten

  Harley

  I can’t believe him. My first night in his apartment and Nate already has a woman coming over for sex. What an asshole. We made a deal, agreed to the terms, and I was hoping he would keep his word.

  I left Los Angeles less than twenty-four hours ago, and I miss the city already. Southern California is nothing like Philadelphia, with its rainy, overcast days.

  I miss the sunshine and Willow.

  I miss all of the comforts of my home.

  Philly is where I grew up.

  But it’s no longer my home.

  I said goodbye a long time ago.

  Marrying Nate means giving up my home, my friends, and the man I was hoping could be the start of a new future. Now, I have to put Kevin in the rearview mirror. I have to tell him it’s over, and I don’t want to let him go. I don’t think Nate fully appreciates the situation in the same light. He thinks this is our fresh start, our chance to be friends again.

  And he’s not entirely wrong.

  After I finish stuffing the last of my clothes in drawers, the doorbell rings. This time, I hope it’s the food and not some trashy whore. Where did Nate even find her? She was younger than me, and of course, she was blonde. Now that Callie pointed it out to me, I’m starting to notice Nate has a type, and they kind of look like me, which is weird.

  “Harley, food is here,” Nate calls down the hall.

  I stroll into the dining room, where Nate has laid out a plate of chicken cacciatore for me and a plate of chicken parmigiana for him. An assorted basket of breads sits at the center of the table. The scent of olive oil and garlic assaults my nostrils, and I lick my lips at the delicious aroma that wafts through the room. Nate ordered from my favorite Italian restaurant. I guess he wants me to feel at home.

  I take my plate to the opposite end of the table, the farthest possible from Nate.

  He sighs. “At some point, you’ll have to get used to me. You can’t run away.”

  I lift my fork, my eyes pointed at Nate. “You said I’ll want the real thing someday, so I’m taking your advice and staying away from your lingering touches.”

  Nate snickers. “Okay, have it your way. You’ll see in the end that I always win.”

  “See, this is the Nate King I know. The cocky son of a bitch who always gets what he wants. The womanizer. The playboy.”

  “Oh, well, didn’t you hear I’m gonna be a married man?” He gives me a shit-eating grin. “So, all of that’s changed.”

  “Hmmm…” I stuff a piece of chicken into my mouth and moan at the deliciousness as the spiciness hits my tongue. “I pity the woman who gets to tame you.”

  Nate glares at me, his lip twitching as if he wants to laugh. And then, we burst into a fit of laughter. The snarky humor and banter will get us through the worst and best of times. I wear my sarcasm like armor and so does Nate.

  We eat our dinner in uncomfortable silence. Nate glances down the table at me with each bite he takes. He’s like a hunter stalking his prey, ready to pounce any second. My phone dings with a text message that ends our staring contest. I remove it from my pocket and sigh. Great, it’s Kevin.

  We need to talk…

  Of course, we do. I haven’t had the time or the courage to tell him that we’re over. Kevin knows about the scandal with Nate. He could expose our fake relationship. But he’s a powerful man who knows that running a company like ours requires some sacrifice. I hope he understands.

  “How’s your food?” Nate asks.

  “Good, thank you.” I stuff the phone back into my pocket.

  “Who’s that?”

  “What’s it to you? I didn’t realize we have to share every aspect of our lives with each other. I didn’t ask you about your Wednesday night fuck.”

  “Oh, wifey,” he says with a playful smile. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

  “Don’t call me wifey.”

  “Get used to it, Harley baby. Mrs. King has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

  I roll my eyes at him, my anger seething through me. “I’m not taking your last name.”

  He scoffs. “You’re joking.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not even a real marriage. Why would I want to take your name when mine still means something in this business?”

  “Okay, fine,” he groans. “How about McQueen-King? Can we at least agree on a hyphen?”

  “Nope,” I say, resolute. “You’re getting a wife. That should be good enough.”

  “Be reasonable.”

  “Plenty of successful women keep their last name. It’s for professional reasons.” I study his face, wondering why this is so important to him, but he gives nothing away. “Why does it matter?”

  “Because I like the idea of you having my name.”

  I let his words hang in the air for a second before something snaps inside me. “No, you’re just a narcissist who wants everyone to know that you’ve claimed me as your property, and I’m no man’s property. So, McQueen it is. Take it or leave it.”

  He wipes his mouth with the napkin on his lap and drops it onto the table with an irritated sigh. “Can we stop fighting, please?”

  I pull out my phone again and consider sending Kevin a text.

  But I know I need to call.

  Only a coward would send the text.

  After I finish eating, I head into the kitchen to wash my plate. Nate follows behind me, caging me against the sink with his chest and strong arms that wrap around me. He sets his plate in the sink, digging his hip into my side. Sparks of electricity skate along my skin when his fingers graze my wet hand. I suck in a deep breath, fighting every urge to touch him back. Nate was right about having trouble resisting the real thing, and I know myself well enough to put an end to any possibility of us before it even starts.

  “What are you doing, Nate?”

  “Nothing.” His lips brush against my earlobe. “You’re in my way.”

  “No, this is another pathetic attempt to touch me.”

  He chuckles in my ear.

  “Get off me, Nate. Stop acting like a jerk.”

  His featherlight touch makes me shiver. He feels it, too. I swear I hear him chuckle again, but I’m too focused on how he makes me feel to respond. He loves to taunt me, torture me in every way possible. Nate uses his body as a weapon against me.

  Nate leans in closer, and his breath on my skin causes me to visibly shiver. He grabs both of my arms, holding me tight, and presses his body against mine. I can’t breathe, unable to function. How are we supposed to make it until our wedding at this rate? He can’t even wash a plate without getting a hard-on.

  I shove my elbow into his chest, and he steps back to give me some space. Spinning around to face him, I lean my back against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. His eyes fall to my breasts that are on display more than usual in this low-cut tank top.

  We share a moment.

  I’m not even sure what to call it.

  It’s not lust, love, or even friendship.

  Nate has the power to break my heart if I let him. I’m afraid of letting him get too close because he hurt me before. I was so in love with him in high school, but he never looked at me the same way as other girls. I have to keep my guard up. Nate can’t dominate me or control me in any way, or I’ll lose a lot more than a company.

  “I have to call my boyfriend,” I say after a long, awkward pause, giving him an evil look. “Or should I say ex-boyfriend, thanks to you.”

  He stares at me, his face unreadable at first, but his features twist into something that resembles jealousy. But that’s not possible.

  He got me.

  He won the girl.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nate

  I’m an idiot.

  After years of waiting to have Harley back in my life, I’m blowing my chance with her. She stormed upstairs after dinner, slamming her bedroom door so hard it echoed throughout the house. Harley has always had a flair for the dramatic. I think her father has a lot to do with that. He was never around, busy working on new games with my dad. Back then, Harley would have done anything for a second of his time. And nothing has changed. That’s why she’s here, in my apartment and going through with this fake marriage. She wants his attention, his love. Though, I fear she will never get it from him.

  Standing in the living room, I glance out the windows that overlook the Philadelphia skyline. The bright lights twinkle against the dark sky, illuminating my apartment. I love how the city comes to life at night, and from this vantage point, I feel like I’m on top of the world.

  When we were kids, Harley and I would climb into the treehouse. We both loved heights and craved adventure. My back yard was our domain, where we pretended we were Peter Pan and Wendy in our own version of Neverland. Years later, we became King and Queen. I wanted a penthouse apartment to remind myself of the good times with Harley. And now that I have Harley at my side, we can have it all.

  The King has his Queen.

  I raise a glass of bourbon to my lips, enjoying the brief moment of silence until a loud bang upstairs startles me. Harley. Another crash forces me to climb the spiral staircase. Drink still in hand, I inch my way toward her closed bedroom door. It sounds like she’s remodeling on the other side of the door. What the hell is she doing in there?

  I stop in front of her room, my free hand raised to knock before her voice stops me.

  “Kevin, I’m sorry,” Harley whines. “Yeah, I thought so, too.”

  My heart sinks into my stomach. I should walk away and give her some privacy, but the selfish asshole in me keeps his feet planted on the hardwood. I rest my shoulder against the wall, tipping the glass to my lips as I listen to her conversation.

  “No, it has nothing to do with what happened last night.” A beat passes before she says, “I don’t know what you want me to say, Kev. It’s not like I planned this.”

  It killed me when I found out Harley was dating Kevin Frederick. I hadn’t felt that kind of pain since we were in high school. I thought watching another boy ask Harley to our senior prom, while I stood next to her, waiting to ask her the same question, was the hardest day of my life. I let him win, walked away from the only girl I have ever loved. To this day, Harley still has no idea why I was in the south hallway at school. Why I waited in front of her locker when I was supposed to be in gym class. But the hardest day came a few weeks ago when I made the worst decision of my life.

  “I have to stay in Philly,” Harley says to Kevin, her voice almost a whisper now. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back in LA.”

  She doesn’t want to be here, not with me, anyway. I should let her go, do the right thing, allow her to fall in love with someone else. Don’t I owe her this much? I fucked up both of our lives, created a mess of problems. Maybe my dad is right. For every good thing I do, I create twice as many bad.

  A silence fills the air. Harley sniffs on the other side of the door, and I feel like a piece of shit for putting her through this. She’s crying because of me. How can I make this situation better for her?

  You can give her the wedding she wants.

  You can be her Mr. Darcy.

  “Hey, Will,” Harley says to her roommate, now sounding less sad. “Yeah, I’m okay. I need to ask you something important.” A second passes and then she says, “Will you be one of my bridesmaids?”

  I’ve met Willow Duvall a few times since Harley moved to Los Angeles. Her roommate is an interesting woman, the typical California Valley Girl but not so plastic. I like that Willow really understands Harley and embraces all of her quirks. Harley doesn’t have many friends who get her, so I was happy when she met Willow at an art gallery and they hit it off.

  I never stopped keeping tabs on Harley. She could be two continents away, and I would find a way to know how she’s doing. I never stopped caring about my best friend.

  I’m about to walk away when Harley says, “This is Nate we’re talking about. How do you think it’s going?” She laughs. “Yeah, he’s hot. I’d have to be blind not to notice.” More laughter. “He’s not making this easy for me. I wish he would stop touching me.” She groans, speaking through a fit of laughter. “Fine, I’ll admit it. I like it when he touches me, okay?”

  I knew it.

  “No, I’m not,” Harley challenges. “You can make all the bets you want, but I’m not having sex with Nate.” More silence. “It doesn’t matter if I want to bone him. And don’t say bone. It’s gross.”

  Harley lets out a throaty chuckle, and I have to cover my mouth to stifle my laughter. She’s such a prude. I can hear how uncomfortable talking about sex makes her. Though, she’s never had a hard time shooting down my advances, making smart comments in response.

  “Oh, my God, Will,” Harley moans. “I’m not asking him for a dick pic. No, you pirate hooker. Go ask someone on Tinder for one.”

  I rest my head back against the wall and finish my drink, laughing to myself as Harley yells at Willow. She sounds so at ease with her that it makes me a little jealous. Harley doesn’t have to force her interactions with Willow. She can be herself, lower her guard. I need to get her to that point with me. I want her to be this comfortable around me, like the old days.

  “How would you know how big Nate is?” Harley lowers her voice once she realizes she yelled her question into the phone. “What picture of him in shorts? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She makes a shuffling sound and then says, “Okay. I’m on my laptop. Send it to me.”

  What the hell are they talking about? I don’t remember anyone posting an image of me wearing shorts.

  “Whoa,” Harley says, stunned. “You were right. Jesus. Holy shit… Nate… wow.”

  I smirk at her comments. Wait until you see it in person, Harley baby.

  She bursts into a fit of laughter. “Absolutely not! He is not putting his king in my castle, and if you ever make that reference again, I’m going to fly back to LA and kick your ass. Gah! Shut up! I’m not asking him that. No way in hell.”