chapter 2

Aiden had a headache by the time he’d crossed the marble lobby of the Regency Hotel, one of the bride’s family’s holdings. And he knew an evening spent in the company of the Brat Pack of groomsmen and a few dozen people looking to marry him off, secure his investment, or beg some free advice would only make it worse.

But it was the price he paid for privilege. He handed the empty champagne flute to a passing server and wished for scotch. But drinking away his headache wouldn’t do anyone any favors tonight.

“How about Margeaux?” Chip asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the model tall, waif-slim blonde. She wore a gold gown with a slit practically to her chin. She was ruthlessly styled, hair perfect, makeup impeccable. She never ate or smiled in public.

“How about not on your life? She looks like the equivalent of an ice cube in bed.” Since Chip had found his lasting happiness with Pruitt, he’d made it his mission to drag his best friend Aiden along with him for the ride.

“Yeah, she’s horrible,” Chip agreed. “But Pru was her maid of honor so…” he winced. “I’m going to do you a favor and skip over Taffany.”

“Thanks,” Aiden said dryly. The woman rebranded herself as Taffany after a second cousin named her baby Tiffany. She was the quintessential party girl. A week didn’t go by when she wasn’t plastered across the gossip blogs flashing her crotch in dresses short enough to be shirts and falling out of rock stars’ SUVs in front of clubs.

“How about Cressida?” Chip offered, pointing his glass at yet another blonde. This one’s breasts couldn’t be bothered to stay within the confines of her couture corset. The rest of her was a tan skeleton. She was frowning fiercely and pacing in a short six-foot radius as she yelled into her cellphone in German.

“She seems nice,” Aiden observed sarcastically.

“She seems like she’d cut your balls off and then ransom you for them,” Chip said cheerfully.

“How about Frankie?” Aiden asked, warming to the game. His gaze flicked to her on the dance floor. Her hair was dark, thick, heavy with curls. Her body was lushly curved as highlighted by the simple gold slip gown she wore. Her wide mouth was curved in a generous smile as she laughed at something Pruitt said.

“Oh, she’s too good for you,” Chip said. “She’s smart and sarcastic. She’d be too much work for you.”

“I see what you’re doing,” Aiden said. He flagged down a server and ordered a Macallan. One wouldn’t hurt. One might take the edge off a bit.

“What am I doing? I’m trying to save you from a woman who clearly isn’t your type.”

“What’s my type?” Aiden asked, already regretting it.

“Tall, painfully thin. Doesn’t smile or speak too much. Someone looking to add you to her bedroom portfolio to make her more attractive to the next potential husband.”

“That’s not necessarily my type,” Aiden argued. “That’s just who doesn’t take offense to the arrangement.”

“Frankie would take offense,” Chip predicted. “But I think she might also make you regret temporary. She’s a hell of a girl, Aiden.”

Aiden watched the woman in question as she shimmied and strutted in unison with Pruitt. She moved like a goddess, tempting mortals with her sinful body. In his experience, women tended to highlight their appeal either across the dining table or in the bedroom. And Franchesca was all bedroom.

He turned his back on the dance floor.

“When are you going to give up on dragging me into monogamous bliss?” he asked Chip.

His friend grinned. “When you find someone who makes you feel the way I do about Pru.”

“I’m a Kilbourn. We’re not capable of feelings. Only beneficial mergers.”

“That’s a sad statement to make,” Chip said, slapping him on the shoulder. The server, a slip of a girl with a navy streak in her

dark hair, hurried to his side. A glass of scotch clutched in her hand.

“Here you go, Mr. Kilbourn,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Thank you… Jana,” he said, eyes flicking to her name tag.

Her mouth dropped open, and she backed away with stars in her eyes.

“See. Why don’t you work some of that charm on Frankie?” “I’m not interested in something that…”

“Fun? Smart? Sexy?” Chip supplied.

“Flashy,” Aiden corrected. “She dances like she’s got experience on the pole. And she’d probably take that as a compliment.”

“No. She wouldn’t,” a husky voice behind him announced.

Fuck.

Chip, ever the tension diffuser, slapped an innocent grin on his face. “Frankie! Aiden didn’t see you there,” he said pointedly.

“Aiden doesn’t seem like the type to notice much of anyone under a certain tax bracket. Why waste his time?” Franchesca announced.

She didn’t hesitate to make eye contact. No, she used those blue-green eyes to bore holes into him. He’d been an ass. Usually he was much more careful about voicing his opinions in venues where they could be overheard, misconstrued. He blamed the headache, the three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach. “Pru asked if you’d get her a drink and save her from the Danby twins. They’ve got her cornered by the stairs.” Frankie pointed to

the opposite end of the room.

“If you two will excuse me, I’ve got to go rescue my fiancée. No bloodshed,” Chip ordered, pointing a stern finger at Frankie.

“No promises,” she called after him. She turned back to him, eyes flashing with temper. “Well, if you’ll excuse me—which I don’t give a flying fuck if you do—I don’t want to spend my evening looking at you.”

She dismissed him, turning on her heel and whipping that curtain of hair over her shoulder.

“Hang on,” he said it quietly, fingers closing around her wrist. “Hands off, Kilbourn, or you’ll be Deadbourn by the time I’m

done with you.”

He released her but stepped into her path. “Let me apologize.” “Let you?” Franchesca crossed her arms over her chest. “Look,

I’m sure you’re used to talking to servants and underlings, but a word of advice? Don’t demand that someone listen to your shit show of an apology. Got it?”

The headache was throbbing behind his eyes. No one talked to him that way. Not even his oldest friends.

“Please allow me to apologize,” he said, his jaw clenching. He cupped her elbow in his hand and guided her toward an alcove behind a heavy gold curtain.

The darkness made the pain in his head ease just a bit, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the rest of it away.

“How about I save us both some time?” Franchesca suggested. “You don’t bother apologizing because we both know you meant to be a dick, and I won’t bother pretending to forgive you because I don’t give a shit what you think about me. Fair enough?”

There was a cream-colored settee covered in silk, and Aiden sat. The dull throb was making his stomach roll. “Look. I’m not putting my best foot forward, and for that I apologize.”

“Future reference again? ‘I apologize’ doesn’t come across as sincerely as ‘I’m sorry.’ You got a headache?”

The change in subject had his head spinning. He closed his eyes. Nodded.

“Migraine?” she prodded. He shrugged. “Maybe.”

She mumbled to herself, and he opened his eyes to watch her dig through her clutch. “Here,” she said, offering him two pills. “Prescription.”

“You get them, too?”

“No, but Pru does when she’s stressed. I didn’t want her muddling through her engagement party wanting to puke.”

“That’s very kind and prepared of you.”

“I’m the maid of honor. It’s my job. Now take them like a good little boy.”

He lifted his glass, but she stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Don’t be a dumbass. Alcohol makes it worse.” She took the glass from him and stuck her head out of the curtain. He heard her give

a little whistle, and in a moment, she was thanking someone by name and handing him a glass of ice water.

“You know the catering staff?” he asked, making conversation while he washed down the tablets.

“I am the catering staff. Second job. It’s my night off.” She said it as if she were daring him to find fault with that. “You want me to call you an Uber?” she offered suddenly.

“I have a car downstairs.” “Of course you do.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” Aiden rubbed a hand over his temple.

“Maybe I’m doing it to rub your face in the fact that you’re an ass. And maybe I just gave you two birth control pills instead of headache meds just to watch you suffer.”

“Maybe I’d deserve it.”

The curtain twitched, and the server with the blue hair poked her head in. “Here’s the soda,” she whispered. Her eyes widened when she spotted him, and she backed out of the alcove.

“I make her nervous,” Aiden observed when the server left.

“It’s a good thing you’re good-looking and rich because you definitely don’t have the personality thing going for you. Here, drink this. The caffeine will help.”

He drank it down and rested his head against the back of the settee. “Thanks.” She was taking care of him after he suggested that she had experience as a stripper. He was an asshole and wondered when that transformation had become complete.

She took the glass from him. “Stay until it kicks in,” she ordered and turned for the curtain.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the party so I can shake my stripper ass at all those eligible bachelors.”

“I’m sorry I’ll miss it.” “Shut up, Kilbourn.”