Kelsey is knocking at my door—again. You’d think she’d get the point after I ignored her the first three times.

“You’re going to be late!” she calls through the solid piece of wood.

I start organizing the folder I had worked on for the last eleven hours. “Call Ed and Janice in Investments. They’re going to need to finish this for me.”

Kelsey opens the door and stares at me with open-faced horror. “You’re letting someone help you?”

“That’s what subordinates are for, Kelsey.”

“But you’re kind of a lone shark with your work.”

I take a deep breath. “The client’s satisfaction comes first. Just call them.”

“I will if you leave for The Met.”

I stare at her. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

She shrugs. “I have it straight from your dad that you must get to this event on time.”

I rub my hand over my eyes, pinching and prodding until I see spots. “Fine.” I straighten the front of my tux in the mirror and then walk to the door. “Did you call—”

“A car?” she cuts in. “It’s downstairs.”

We exit onto the busy street and make our way to the black Town Car idling at the curb.

“Let’s go over what you’re doing tonight,” Kelsey begins the minute the door shuts behind me. “Chitchat and schmooze in the Great Hall for the first hour. The program starts at eight o’clock. You’ll accept the award, give a speech, and—”

“A speech?” I interrupt. “I’m not giving a speech.”

“Yes, you are. I’ve written it.” She shoves a paper in my hands. My forehead wrinkles as I read it. It’s good—surprisingly good.

“Well?” she asks.

I shift in my seat. “I can stomach this.”

Kelsey snorts. “Then there’s the ribbon cutting, the pictures, the handshaking, blah blah blah…then mingling in the newly christened Stratton Wing until eleven.”

“Who’s attending?”

Kelsey hands me a four-page, single-spaced list. I glare at her. “What the hell is this?”

“The guest list,” she bites back.

“I don’t have time to read this.” I toss it on the seat between us.

“You don’t have to be rude!” she says.

“Excuse me?” I’ve been pushed around enough for one day.

“Nothing,” she mutters. “Anyway, the important people are Opal Okuya, the Museum Director, and Peter Nassau, Vice President of Development.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Kelsey visibly bristles under my patronizing tone, but I’m already moving on. I pick up my cell and begin scrolling through my calendar. I’ll have the next few nights to finish up the Treeper proposal if—

Oh shit. Zach. I forgot that we had plans tonight. “Did you cancel drinks with Zach at Cleo’s?”

“No,” Kelsey answers. “Why would I?”

“Because it’s your job.”

“I—I would have if you’d asked me,” she stammers.

“I did.”

“You didn’t, I swear—”

“Never mind, I’ll do it,” I snap.

Kelsey sits back in her seat and glares out her window. I feel a small stab of remorse at canceling on my friend for the second time this month, but Zach will understand. He comes from the same “work hard, play hard” set where work comes first.

I look up from my phone five minutes later to see a line of sleek black limos and exotic cars pulling up to The Met. Beautiful people in beautiful evening wear are exiting onto a roped-off red carpet flanked by spotlights and press. The façade is decadently drenched with white and red uplighting, and an enormous banner with THE STRATTON WING UNVEILING across the front straddles the pillars.

We inch forward at a glacial pace. No problem with me. Every second in the back of this Town Car means one less with stuffy guests and sycophantic museum employees droning on about how my father is the second coming of Christ.

I search the crowd, seeing more than a handful of father and mother’s friends and admirers. The scene was like a page of the society section. This is going to be worse than I—

I suck in my breath as my eyes find her.

No. No fucking way.

“Did you invite her?” I snarl.

“Who?” Kelsey swivels her head side to side, scanning the scene.

“I told you I didn’t want a date.”

“I didn’t invite anyone!”

“Then why is she here?” I demand, my eyes never leaving the woman drawing nearer each second. Even in a zoo like this, she stands out. She had always been eye-catching, even when she’d broken my heart.

“For God’s sake, Archer, who?”

I twist around as Kelsey crumples in her seat. “If I find out that you went against my orders and invited her, you’re fired. I won’t stand for insubordination.”

Kelsey’s bottom lip begins to tremble. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

She cuts off as the car stops and the door flies open.

“Welcome to The Metropolitan Museum of Art!” a smartly-dressed usher announces.

I snatch up my speech and shove it in my pocket. “We’ll talk about this Monday,” I say to my incompetent assistant.

I step out of the car in one swift motion and am besieged by press and cameras. “Mr. Stratton! Archer, this way! Where’s your father, Mr. Stratton? Over here! Smile for us! Are you—”

I push through the throng and dart for the main entrance, ignoring the hordes of people on either side of me. I make it about halfway up the main steps before someone calls my name. I turn as a small, dark-haired woman trots up to me.

“Are you Mr. Archer Stratton?” she asks.

“And you are…?”

She holds out her hand and flashes me a big smile. “Mallory Harte, head of events at the museum. I’ve been waiting for a Stratton to show up, and you’re the first. Welcome and thank you for coming.”

“Er, thank you,” I say, already getting uncomfortable from the curious stares and whispers around me, “but I should get inside—”

“Oh, I know,” she interrupts. “I’ll let Mr. Nassau and Ms. Okuya know you’re here.”

She speaks into an earpiece for a moment before turning back to me. “Is your father close behind?”

“No.” The constant buzz of chitchat and clicking of cameras is setting my teeth on edge. “My father will not be attending tonight. Something has called him away, so I’m here representing my family.”

Mallory’s face falls for a moment, but then she’s beaming again. “And we’re thrilled to have you, Archer—can I call you Archer?”

“Uh, sure.”

Flash. Click. Whisper.

“I’m going to go inside,” I say, trying my damnedest to not lose it. “Just let Mr. uh…let them know I’m here.”

I leave Mallory behind and head for the front entrance. Unfortunately, the one person I vowed to never see or speak to again is blocking my path. I turn around and consider heading back down the steps, but with the blinding flashes from the camera and Mallory waiting for me, I end up doing nothing.

“Archie?”

I flinch. Only a handful of people in this world are allowed to call me by my silly, childish nickname, and one of them is right behind me.

I turn and meet the gaze of a beautiful sandy-haired brunette with fuck-me eyes and a body that brought men to their knees. I know because I used to be one of them. A hand flutters to her chest as she stares at me. Her breasts strain against her snug silk gown with every quick breath.

I force my eyes away. “Tessa, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Of course I’m here,” she replies, her voice deep and rich like a sip of fine whiskey. “Your family meant a lot to me…at one time.”

“That was a long time ago,” I say, searching for an exit.

“Five years, I believe,” she murmurs.

It doesn’t feel like five years to me, and the memory hits me hard, fresh and raw even after all these years. Me coming home early from class. My heart quickening at the sight of a trail of clothes and lingerie leading me to our bedroom… My excitement at what’s waiting on the other side of the door… And my horror as I walk in on my fiancée being taken from behind by a friend I’d introduced her to three months before.

“Well, I’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine,” I say, fighting to keep a lid on my anger.

“Archie,” she breathes, her voice laced with hurt, “you haven’t forgiven me?”

I glare at her. “Are you serious?”

“I think enough time’s passed. You never gave me a chance to explain…” She trails off and purses her full lips into a pout.

That does it.

“You fucked my fucking classmate—” I stop as a tall blond guy appears at her side.

“Tessie, are you ready to go in?” he asks, eyeing me with suspicion.

“Tessie,” is it?

Tessa’s eyes flick between the two of us. “Patton, this is Archer Stratton.”

I stick out a hand and crush Patton’s in a firm shake.

“How do you know each other? School?” Patton asks, staring me down.

“Actually, we used to date,” Tessa begins.

“Yes. Old school friends,” I cut in. “And it’s been great catching up, but since this whole event is for my family, I should be going.”

I pass by them, stride up the steps, and enter the Great Hall. I’m pushing through the packed crowd when I hear my name.

I grimace. This night is going to kill me.

“Archer,” a woman begins.

“Mr. Stratton, a moment of your time,” a man calls out.

I back away as both descend upon me.

“I’m Opal Okuya. Thank you for honoring us tonight. We’ve heard that you’ll be representing Heath tonight,” the small woman says with a smile.

“And I’m Peter—” the man starts, but I cut him off.

“Excuse me, but I have to piss.”

I plaster a smile on my face and glide by them. I can hear them muttering angrily behind me as I head for the nearest door, but I don’t give a shit. The only thing on my mind is getting the hell away from Tessa and Patton and these trite people with their trite small talk.

I need to be alone.