A buzzing noise cuts through the air, breaking the carefully crafted silence of my office. My head jerks up as my concentration breaks. I’ve spent hours working on a complicated financial plan for this new gaming app, but their accounting is a mess. I’ll have a client blowup on my hands if I don’t make some headway in the next few hours.

The buzzing continues, an incessant, irritating drone that grates my frazzled nerves. I toss down my pen and search for the distraction. It’s my phone.

I snatch it up. “Didn’t I order you not to disturb me while I’m working on the Treeper plan?”

“Yes,” my assistant, Kelsey, answers, “but this is important.”

I snap my head around to glare at her through my glass-paneled office. “It better be. If I don’t get this done, we’re screwed.”

Kelsey cooly meets my fiery glaze. “It’s your father.”

Dammit.

“Fine, put him on.” I glance at the clock as I wait. Three o’clock already? Looks like I’m pulling an all-nighter.

The gruff voice of Heath Richard Stratton II comes on the line. “Archie! Did I catch you at a bad time, son?”

“Actually, yes. I’m working on the Treeper financial plan. So, if you don’t mind…” I trail off, hoping he gets the hint.

“Come on, you always have time for your father!”

“I’m sure I do, but if I don’t get this to them by five—”

“Nonsense. Technically I’m your boss, so I order you to take five minutes.”

I yank the phone away from my ear and crack my neck. Only ten seconds into the conversation and the pain’s already building.

“Okay,” I sigh, “what can I do for you?”

“Maybe I just want to talk…”

Yeah. When hell freezes over.

“Though now that you mention it,” he continues, “I need you to attend an event for me tonight.”

“Whoa, whoa. Did you not just hear me? I have to work tonight—maybe all night.”

“This is important, son. It’s the new wing opening at The Met. Lots of publicity. Someone needs to be there to show face and accept the award.”

“An awards banquet?” I moan. “I hate shit like this.”

“Archer! This is a big deal. Our family is being honored.”

“You clearly want to be there, so go.”

“I can’t. Something’s come up.”

“Cancel it,” I demand.

“No. The Met’s dear to my heart, but I must attend another meeting tonight. I’ll fill you and your brother in soon. But for now, I just need you to show up and represent the family tonight.”

I search for a way out of this torture. “What about Dalton and Faith? They love this society bullshit.”

“Watch your language,” my father warns. “Dalton and Faith are otherwise occupied tonight.”

“So I’m second fiddle?”

He sighs. “Just tell me your answer.”

“And if I say no?” I ask, already shuffling through the myriad of budgets and income statements littering my desk. It’s times like these that make me consider taking on a partner. Business is booming and it’s becoming harder for me to meet my deadlines.

“Not an option,” my father replies.

“Is that so?”

“Archie…” he warns. “Don’t make me do something I don’t want to.”

“That sounds like a threat,” I say, my attention snapping back to the call.

“Don’t be difficult about this. We don’t ask you to go to many of these things.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Please, Archie. For the family.”

It’s a combination of his using my nickname and the not-so-veiled guilt trip that finally breaks me. “Fine. But this is the last time I’m getting roped into fucking society shit like this.”

“Language!”

“I’m not twelve anymore, Father.”

“That’s right, so I expect you to act like the adult you are.”

My temper flares. “Act like an adult? I’m single-handedly running your company. We’ve never seen better numbers or this many clients.”

“And I’m proud of you, though your mother and I think you work too hard.”

“I like what I do, and I’m great at it. That’s not a crime.”

“No, but arrogance is.”

That makes me roll my eyes. “You’re kidding me—”

“Not now, son. Let’s talk after the event. And you never know, you may end up having a good time.”

“Not bloody likely,” I mutter.

My father gives a long sigh. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Sure,” I say, more than happy to hang up.

“One more thing,” he says. My hand freezes on the phone. “Be on your best behavior tonight. It’s important to show how strong and gracious this family is.”

I snort. “Now I really feel like I’m twelve.”

“Just…be nice.”

“Thanks, for the pep talk. I’m hanging up now.” I slam down the phone and push out of my chair.

What did my dad mean by “be nice”? I don’t know why people go out of their way to be considerate. Nice never seals a deal. Nice doesn’t make this company a powerhouse in its field. Nice doesn’t make money. Life takes advantage of nice people; it walks all over them and crushes their spirit and dreams.

Well, there’s no way I’m letting that happen—once was enough. I want to be left alone to work in peace, goddammit.

I tear my door open. “Kelsey, if there’s another interruption like that, I’m firing you.”

She has the gall to laugh. “Right. Like you could survive without me.”

“I—” I stop, realizing she’s right. Kelsey keeps up with my frenetic pace better than any other assistant I’ve had.

I clear my throat. “I mean it. No more interruptions.”

“Fine,” she says, swiveling back to her computer. She pulls up GrubHub and begins scrolling through pages of food. “Whaddaya want for dinner? I’m assuming we’re staying late.”

“Yes—I mean no,” I correct. “I’ll be attending the wing opening tonight at The Met in place of my father.”

Kelsey’s brown eyes go wide as saucers. “Nothing like the last minute,” she mumbles. Her dirty blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders as she stretches her arms. “Okay. I’ll email your father’s PA and get the details. Also, I’ll need to swing by your place for your tux.”

“I don’t care,” I say, stalking back to my office, “just get it done.” I couldn’t care less if I showed up in Armani or Tommy Bahama. This is at the bottom of my “things I give a shit about” list.

I have twenty minutes of silence before there’s another knock at my door. You have got to be kidding. “This had better be good!” I yell.

The doorknob twists and Kelsey strolls in, pen and paper in her hand. “I forgot to ask who you’re bringing tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your date. People bring someone to these kinds of events.”

I return my attention back to my spreadsheets. “I have more important things to do.”

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “How about Natasha?”

My head snaps up. “Who?”

“Natasha? I thought that’s who you’re seeing right now.”

I snicker. “What makes you think that?”

Kelsey rolls her eyes. “You’ve been taking her out for weeks now.”

“We’re not serious.”

“All those dates you went on had me fooled,” she argues.

“I don’t date.”

“I think she’d disagree with that.”

“Not my problem,” I say with a shrug.

“Okay, fine.” She glances down at her list. “Michaela?”

I sit back and stare at her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m finding you a date!” she answers, like it’s obvious. “What about Tiffany? You had a few dates-that-aren’t-dates with her a few months ago.”

“Kelsey, stop.”

“Evie was nice, though I think she is far too good for you—”

“That’s enough,” I warn. “I told you to stay out of my personal life.”

She plants a hand on her hip. “Choose someone.”

“No. I’ll attend alone.” I clench my fists. My fingers itch to get back to those budget sheets.

“You can’t!” she cries out. “You’ll be lonely—”

“That’s enough.” I level her protests with a cold look. “Alone. End of conversation.”

She whirls around, stomps back toward her desk, and throws herself into her chair. My laugh is rewarded with a withering look.

“You’ll always be alone with an attitude like that,” she pouts.

I stand up and saunter over to the door, resting my fingertips on its silver handle. I give it a soft push.

“And that’s exactly how I like it,” I tell her, right as the door clicks shut between us.