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“You pulled it off!” Jordan slapped me on the shoulder. “Shit, I’m proud of you, man. This night is awesome.”

I made a non-committal noise in response. We had vastly different definitions of “awesome.”

It was Saturday, the night of the much-dreaded bachelor party. Jordan was having the time of his life, and I would rather throw myself into a pool of battery acid. It would be a miracle if I got through the night without murdering someone.

While Jordan went to get another round of shots, I stuck by my spot in the corner. We were only at stop number two of my meticulously planned itinerary, and I couldn’t stop checking my watch.At leastfour more hours of fuckery before the night ended.

Christ. Someone shoot me already.

The only bright spot of the night was how happy and easy to please Jordan was. Thinking about him and Ayana together made my gut churn, but as his friend, I really was glad he was enjoying himself.

He’d explicitly stated he didn’t want anything extravagant for the bachelor party—no travel, no ridiculous activities or performances—so I’d stuck to the tried-and-true trifecta of music, alcohol, and women.

Our first stop had been the VIP room of the Vault, which Xavier had reserved just for us. Top-shelf liquor and a famous DJ from Iceland devolved into the sticky floors and tacky neon lights crowding our current dive bar location.

For someone who’d grown up surrounded by luxury, Jordan had a soft spot for the hole-in-the-walls. The Soggy Bottom was right up his alley, though the same couldn’t be said for everyone in the bachelor party.

“What an…interesting bar.” Kai Young grimaced as a scantily clad brunette tilted her head back to guzzle beer from a funnel. Beside her, a pair of fratty-looking guys bumped chests and hollered like imbecilic gorillas. “How did you find this place again?”

He looked more bemused than anything else, but out of all the attendees, the aristocratic British media tycoon was the least likely to willingly step foot in this establishment.

I shrugged, too irritated by the noise, the people, and the night in general to respond.

There were eight of us in total—me, Xavier, Jordan, his friend Will from boarding school, his cousin Topher, and a handful of business associates/close acquaintances. In New York society, even personal events like bachelor parties and weddings were little more than excuses for networking.

As the CEO of a media empire, whose fashion publications counted Jacob Ford as a major advertiser, Kai belonged in the networking category. So did Dante Russo, the CEO of a luxury goods conglomerate.

The eighth and final member of our group was the only one who straddled the line between friend and acquaintance. Killian Katrakis was a close family friend of the Fords, which was why he’d agreed to let them host the wedding at his famous ancestral estate in Ireland. However, he was eight years older than Jordan, and the two rarely hung out except at family functions.

While Kai left to join Jordan at the bar, I tossed back a glass of straight vodka. The cheap alcohol burned a fiery path down my throat.

We had three more stops after this—two bars and the gentlemen’s club at Valhalla. It was leagues above the Vermilion Lounge in terms of class and quality, but that wasn’t why I’d added it to our itinerary.

I wanted to see what Jordan would do when faced with temptation—if he would stay loyal, or if he would stray. If he’d stay respectful or let his eyes and hands wander beyond what was acceptable.

It was manipulative of me, but I’d never claimed to be a fucking saint.

“What crawled up your ass and died?”

I ignored Dante as he came up beside me. Besides running the Russo Group, he was also next in line to take over Valhalla’s managing committee. We’d worked closely for months to prepare for the transition, so I was more familiar with him than many of the other attendees.

That didn’t mean I wanted to talk. I hated parties, and I hated small talk.

Dante followed my gaze to where Jordan was laughing with Xavier and Topher. “The groom seems to be having a good time. Any reason why you’re looking at him like you want to kill him?”

I pivoted my glare to the Italian and typed out a response on my phone.

Shouldn’t you be at home with your wife and daughter?

Never mind that Jordan had invited him. He didn’t have to accept.

Dante’s smirk fell as he returned my glare. “I should,” he grumbled. “But Josie’s with her grandmother, and Vivian is having a girls’ night.” He appeared unreasonably disappointed about being separated from his family for the night.

I didn’t get it. Who wouldn’t want a break from a screaming baby?

I returned my attention to the bar. In less than two months, Jordan and Ayana would be married.

She would move into his house. Sleep in his bed. Wake up next tohimevery morning and kiss him sweetly every night.