I sweep my eyes around the room. Quinn should be here by now. She better not have taken the subway again.

Tonight’s the annual Stratton Financial awards dinner. It’s a stuffy, black-tie affair held in an even stuffier hotel ballroom. I’ve been begging my father for years let me inject some life into the gathering, but he refuses, saying he doesn’t want to break with tradition. I think he doesn’t want one more thing on my already full plate.

Movement near the entrance draws my eyes. Quinn strolls in wearing the same jaw-droppingly gorgeous scarlet cocktail dress from our dinner. She scans the crowd nervously, spots me, and begins moving through the crowd.

I meet Quinn halfway across the ballroom. “You’re late,” I say under my breath. “The party’s nearly halfway through.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up at work—”

“You should have told them your schedule will be erratic.”

“I did,” Quinn says. “But the girl who’s taking over for me is a real piece of work.” Quinn’s eyes dart around the room. “This is a bigger shindig than I thought.”

I shrug. “It’s a mid-sized company that’s been in my family for generations. My great-grandfather started it.”

“Wow, that’s…impressive.” She gulps. “Archer, I don’t know about this.”

“It’s a little too late for that. You’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” I take her arm and lead her toward the bar. “A merlot, I’m assuming?”

“Or three,” she mutters.

We reach the bar in record time. “A whiskey and soda, and a merlot for the lady,” I order. I’m about to give Quinn a lay of the land when a woman tugs at my sleeve.

“Archer, darling!” She plants a kiss on my cheek. “It’s been too long. How’s your mother?”

“My mother’s well,” I reply, “I’ll pass along your regards.”

I glance at Quinn. Angelica Peterson wasn’t the first person I hoped to introduce my new girlfriend to—the socialite had a voracious appetite for gossip— but I couldn’t walk away.

“Angelica, this is Quinn East, my girlfriend,” I say smoothly, taking Quinn’s hand and pulling her forward. I grip tighter as she tries to tug her hand away. “Quinn, please meet a family friend, Angelica Peterson.”

Quinn’s hand stills in mine as Angelica’s eyes go wide.

“Your girlfriend?” Angelica gasps. “Archer, I had no idea!”

“We haven’t been dating long. We met at The Met a few weeks ago during the wing reveal. Isn’t that right, darling?” I say to Quinn, squeezing her hand.

Silence meets my question, and I turn toward Quinn. She meets my expectant look with shocked eyes. “Say something,” I whisper.

“P-pardon me,” Quinn says, holding out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you Angelica.”

“Charmed,” Angelica says, winking at me. “She’s pretty, Archie. You two look great together.”

“Don’t we?” I say. I tug Quinn toward me and wrap an arm around her waist. “Can’t keep my hands to myself around my little sweetheart.”

Quinn stiffens next to me. “But darling,” Quinn says through a tight smile, “we talked about keeping it G-rated in public.” She steps away and shakes her head at Angelica. “Men, they’re animals.”

“You two are adorable!” Angelica squeals. “Tell me everything. Oh! Who made the first move?”

Quinn and I speak at the same time.

“Her—”

“Him—”

We glance at each other, and I throw my head back and laugh. “Look at us, it’s only been two weeks and we’re already disagreeing on our story.” I shake my head at Quinn. “Women.”

Quinn stares daggers at me.

“Are you hungry, dearest?” I ask. “Why don’t I get us some food.”

I excuse myself, ignoring Quinn’s panicked look, and head for the stationary hors d’oeuvres. I figure a few moments alone with the inquisitive Mrs. Peterson will have Quinn rethinking her attitude tonight. If Quinn and I can’t get through an introduction without fighting, how are we supposed to convince people that we’re madly in love?

I toss a few slices of charcuterie onto two cocktail plates and return to the group. I hold out a plate to Quinn. “Here, sweetie. I got you that peppered salami you love so much.”

Quinn stares at the pile of meat. “On second thought, I’m not hungry.”

I shove it toward her. “Nonsense.”

“I’m fine.”

“She’s such a picky eater,” I say. I lean over toward Quinn. “Take the plate!” I hiss into her ear.

“I don’t eat red meat!” she hisses back.

Shit.

I glance at Angelica, who’s watching us curiously. “Please excuse us,” I say, taking Quinn’s elbow. “I still need to introduce my little angel to everyone. Great catching up.”

Quinn rips her arm from my grasp the minute we glide away. “Stop calling me pet names, you sound ridiculous!”

“Oh, and your stony expression isn’t? You flinched when I touched you!”

“You surprised me.”

“We’re supposed to be in love. People in love surprise each other.” I sigh irritably. “Too much is riding on this, Quinn, so get it together.”

“I’m trying! But if you call me buttercup or dandelion—”

“Those aren’t bad,” I smirk.

“Archer, I swear—”

I throw up my hands. “Christ. Why don’t you pick it, then?”

She tugs at her dress. “Well, the only nickname I’ve been called is Quinny.”

“Perfect, Quinny it is.”

“No.” She scowls at me. “It’s reserved for family and friends.”

“Honey, I’m family now.”

“Hardly,” she snaps. “Just call me Quinn.”

“Maybe you’re missing the point of a nickname. I might as well call you Ms. East again.”

“Or you could take your nicknames and stick them up your—”

“Stratton! Can’t believe they let you in this year,” a voice booms behind me. I smile.

“Zach,” I say, turning. “Great to see you too, buddy.” I hold out my hand and Zach takes it, pulling me into a hug.

After we step back, Zach glances around the room. “I just got here, haven’t even made it to the bar yet. See any ass that might catch my eye?”

Quinn snorts behind me, and I remember my boyfriend duties. “Zach, let me introduce you to Quinn.” I step back and pull Quinn forward.

Zach throws me a look and then shakes Quinn’s hand. I notice he holds on to it a little longer than necessary.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, running his eyes over her face. They rest on her chest for a moment before finding me. “You two an item?”

His tone puts me on edge. “Yes. We met at The Met two weeks ago. You could say love at first sight.”

I frown at him. Back off.

Zach cocks an eyebrow. “Just asking. I’m…” his gaze glides over Quinn’s curves, down her toned legs, and up again “… surprised.”

I clench my teeth.

“Thought you were a confirmed bachelor,” Zach goes on. He’s talking to me like Quinn isn’t standing right next to me. Show some fucking respect, dude.

I ball my hands into fists, ready to take my friend down a notch, when Quinn snakes her hand down my arm. She tugs my fist loose and intertwines her fingers with mine.

“It’s nice to meet you, Zach,” she says, smiling. “Are you always this rude, or is this just an off day for you?”

I turn my head and stare at her.

“Uh, what?” Zach sputters.

Quinn tilts her head. “I’m only wondering if I should cut you some slack for having a bad day, or if you’re genuinely an asshole.”

Zach gapes at her. “I…I’m sorry?”

“Good. Now, my name is Quinn East, and I’m Archer’s girlfriend.” She extends her hand.

Zach glances at me, but I only have eyes for Quinn. He takes her hand, gives it a quick shake, and drops it.

Quinn smiles at him, then turns and meets my awed look. “I never did get that drink, babe. Ready?” she asks.

“Lead the way,” I say.

I meet Zach’s eyes as we brush passed him. That’s right. She’s mine.

“Holy shit,” I burst out when we reach the bar.

Quinn slumps against the bar and gives me a weary look. “Are you mad? I’m sorry, I know he’s your friend, but he was staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.” She shudders.

I shake my head. “No way. Zach was way out of line. I was about to put him in his place until you spoke up.”

“I know, that’s why I stepped in.”

“Really?”

“Can’t have the CEO get into a fight at his own party,” Quinn says, snatching up the glass of merlot that appears in front of her. “Especially over his fake girlfriend.”

I furrow my brow. “Yeah…I guess. By the way, I noticed you’re wearing the same dress from last week.”

“Oh,” Quinn says, blushing.

“What?”

“I—well, my formal wear is rather limited,” she admits.

“Like, how limited?” I ask.

“You’re looking at it.”

My laugh earns me a glare. “Oh, you’re serious. Don’t you attend a ton of events in development?”

“I trade with people or rent something, and I do have cocktail dresses, but they’re from Banana Republic. They’d look ridiculous at these black-tie dinners you’ll be dragging me to.”

“Well, get used to it,” I say, “because you’re going to need a whole closet full of gowns for this campaign.”

She goes quiet. “What’s the matter?” I ask.

Quinn laughs into her wine glass. “Archer, I can’t afford to buy a ‘closet full of gowns.’ I’m not made of money like you,” she says, waving her hand at my tailored tux.

I brush her worries aside with my hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have it taken care of.”

“What?”

“I’ll have Kelsey take you shopping tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Would you just let me help you this once?” I demand.

She goes still. “I hate handouts.”

“It’s not a ‘handout.’ I need you to act and look the part of a Stratton girlfriend. That includes a slew of formal wear.”

Quinn takes a deep breath. “Thank you, Archer,” she says, laying a hand on my arm.

I shift uncomfortably under her touch. “Kelsey will pick you up at your apartment tomorrow morning. Email her the address.”

“Will do. And thanks for almost beating up your friend back there,” she adds, giving me a snarky smile. “Even if it was only over me.”

“When you’re mine, you’re mine. I don’t let other men ogle my women.”

Quinn catches her breath.

I frown. “Are you alright?”

“What? Oh, I’m fine—” She clears her throat and runs a hand over her eyes. When she glances up at me, she’s all business mode. “Have you looked over the gift agreement I sent over?”

The change in subject throws me. “I will. I want my lawyers to go over it first—what?” I ask, seeing her annoyed look.

“Nothing,” she says, turning away. “I’m just impatient to move things forward.”

“I don’t see why. It’s not like I’m going anywhere for the foreseeable future.”

Quinn flashes a smile. “Right, I’m just worried…”

“About what?”

“Never mind.” She takes a sip of wine and tosses her head up. “I’m ready for round two. Shall we?”

As I introduce Quinn to my colleagues, family friends, and business partners, I can’t help but mull over that conversation. Something is bugging her.

Was it Zach? I doubt it. She handled him with incredible alacrity.

Was it the pressure of being introduced as “Archer Stratton’s girlfriend” to a hundred people? By the way she flitted about the room, charming everyone with her quick wit and sophistication, I’d say not.

Quinn had flushed when I called her “mine,” but that was purely territorial. She knows the rules of our platonic arrangement; hell, she put them there.

I shrug it off. Trying to figure out what makes Quinn East tick may make my head explode.