Page 19

Sleek, minimalistic furniture in shades of black and chrome greets me as I walk in, throwing me off temporarily.
“Did you redecorate in here?” I ease down onto a surprisingly comfortable metal-framed couch with supple leather cushions and cross my legs, surveying my older brother. He doesn’t bother to look away from his computer monitor, squinting at something on the screen.
“I couldn’t stand Dad’s heavy oak stuff anymore.”
“Every real businessman has a solid wood desk,” I imitate gruffly, admittedly not as good as Connor can do it.
He glances at me in surprise, his expression almost like he wants to laugh but is unfamiliar with the idea. “What are you doing here?” he asks instead, leaning back in his chair and massaging the bridge of his nose. Though he’s only a year older than me, this job appears to have aged him.
I don’t bother giving him a sarcastic quip or glib remark, sensing he won’t find much humor in it. “Will you be my best man?”
His eyes go from tired to sharp in an instant. “I thought you’d ask Connor.”
“He can’t guarantee he’ll make it.”
“Right,” he murmurs, nodding his head slowly. “Uh, yeah, of course.” His gaze shifts to the calendar on the edge of his desk. “I’m honored.”
I hold back a snort. Yeah, right.
“When is the wedding?”
I shrug. “Within the next month or so. Have to make sure the deal goes through.”
He ignores my comment, asking, “What will I have to do?” He tugs at his tie, smoothing down the patterned fabric. “I’ve never been a best man before.”
“Your guess is as good as mine. This is all new to me too. Just get fitted for a tux and show up.”
“Okay.” He fiddles with the edge of his personalized stationery, then seems to catch himself, returning his hands in front of him. “So, about this woman you’re marrying…”
I wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but apparently that was the end of the sentence. “What about her?”
“Dad said we went to school with her, but I don’t remember her.”
I sigh. “You would’ve been two years ahead of her. They called her Ice Queen.”
A wrinkle forms between his dark brows. “Ice Queen?”
I shrug again. “She’s frosty.” Kind of like him actually, but I keep that thought to myself. “Barely says a word and doesn’t care about anybody.”
His frown deepens. “She doesn’t care about marrying into a billionaire family? Wasn’t this her idea?”
I shake my head before he’s finished speaking. “Her dad’s. She-” I cut myself off, refusing to admit she thought she’d be marrying him instead. “It’ll be fine. The marriage is in name only.”
His lips twist before he settles back into his normal default stoic expression. “I never imagined you’d marry like this. You and Connor…” he trails off directionless.
What’s up with him? Archer’s the cool and collected one, a firm decision in place for every aspect of his life. “What about you?”
He raises his gaze in surprise. “Me? I don’t plan on marrying.”
“You’re already married to your work,” I joke, but it falls flat.
He stares at me, his eyes turning that familiar frosty shade. “I am. And I have to get back to it now.”
“Right.” I stand, any kind of moment between us over. “Thanks for agreeing. Mackenzie will get in contact with you to set up a tux fitting.”
He waves his hand absent-mindedly. “Let Tracy know outside. She’ll handle the details.”
Will she, though? The girl didn’t even recognize me.