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.”