Page 9 of Billion Dollar Vow

“Just tell me what you want.” I take a slow sip of my drink, letting the whiskey warms its way down my throat.

“Did you still want a lift tonight?”

I freeze.

Shit.

Harvey chuckles, smug as ever. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes. But it’s fine. I’ll meet you there. I’ll head straight from the office.”

“You sure?” he asks, but I’m already mentally rearranging my evening.

“I’m sure. I have to get to this meeting, but I’ll see you later.” I hang up before he can start in on me again and toss back the rest of the drink.

Later, I’m having a drink with my brothers, and the tension is thick enough to slice.

We’re at Top Secret Bar, one of those quiet, luxurious places tucked into a corner of Midtown, a spot only the right people know about. The booths are a deep brown leather, stitched with precision, and the lighting’s just enough to see the drink in your glass but not so much that anyone could read your expression too clearly.

The four of us take up the corner booth… Me, Evan, Jeremy, and Harvey. Each of us in suits, ties loosened to say we’re off theclock, but not off duty. Gold-rimmed glasses rest on the polished table, not quite ready for another round.

Jeremy nurses a bourbon, always trying to prove he’s got more taste than the rest of us. He’s the brother who’s about to get married. Harvey, the youngest Lincoln, is sipping something amber and overpriced, legs stretched out like he owns the room. Evan, the oldest and grumpiest brother, hasn’t touched his drink yet. And I’ve already gone through two fingers of whiskey, the burn not doing nearly enough.

Evan breaks the silence first, tone clipped like he’s running a board meeting. “So, for Jeremy’s bachelor party, don’t forget, the plane leaves at 9 a.m. sharp. There’s a private dinner when we land. The chef’s doing a multi-course tasting menu. Then a cigar and whiskey pairing on the terrace.”

Jeremy raises an eyebrow, and Harvey leans back, unimpressed.

“Do we get matching robes too?” Harvey mutters into his glass.

I swirl the ice in mine, not bothering to look up. “Why is Evan in charge?”

Jeremy stiffens slightly, then leans forward. “He’s the oldest.”

I glance up and lock eyes with Evan. He’s already glaring at me, posture military straight, like he’s waiting for someone to challenge him.

“We all should’ve had a say in your bachelor party,” I argue.

“It’s my choice,” Jeremy replies coolly. “When it’s your turn, you can choose who you want.”

“Well, it sure as hell won’t be you.”

Harvey chuckles under his breath, like this is better than whatever show he’s been bingeing. Jeremy hides a smirk behind his glass.

“Petty children,” Evan mumbles, shaking his head, finally picking up his glass.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you weren’t involved,” I fire back.

His lips thin into that flat line he always gives when he’s done arguing. Discussion closed.

I lean back into the booth, dragging a finger down the side of my glass. “I went past Mom and Dad’s today. Mom was putting the students’ work in the basement.”

Jeremy blinks. “What? Why?”

“They needed more classrooms,” I say. “She lost the display space.”

“Shit,” Harvey says. “She loved that gallery wall.”

“She didn’t say anything?” Jeremy asks.