Derek was doing his best.

Mainly to not kill every member of the O’Brien clan.

Paul wasn’t happy that he’d nearly beaten Andy to a pulp. Peter was upset over a contract and spending every spare moment on his phone. He had no time for any of them, let alone Derek, who barely qualified on the business associate slash baby-sitter scale.

But dammit, he needed two minutes with Peter O’Brien. Two minutes to explain to him why their deal was off.

Two minutes to explain why he was in love with Pepper.

Dammit, he should have done it before he’d slept with her.

But she’d been there. Gorgeous and sexy. And he’d been naked.

And he had no self-control when it came to Pepper O’Brien.

Still, the least he could do was make his intentions plain before he flaunted their relationship before her family.

Derek knew how Peter worked. He’d take credit for the relationship, try to manipulate it for his own benefit.

Soon the pair of them would be paraded in front of daytime talk show hosts, the running joke being how capable he is of keeping Pepper from creating chaos. Let alone that the chaos wasn’t her fault, let alone that she tried to stay free and clear of any and all drama.

Everything would be rehashed.

He didn’t want that for her.

“. . . and that’s final!” Peter boomed into his phone. He pulled the cell from his ear, pressed the End button, and slammed the device down onto the table. “People are fucking idiots.”

People were too afraid to act because they thought Peter would lay waste to their careers, so they came to him with every potential issue.

They didn’t want their asses on the line when it came to press releases or movie posters or press junkets.

Peter O’Brien was a perfectionist. A control freak.

Which made people afraid to act. Afraid to problem solve.

Which meant his cell phone never stopped ringing.

“I need to speak with you,” Derek said, crossing the room.

The groomsmen were all getting ready for the next event. The rehearsal and subsequent dinner were the final items on the agenda before the wedding the following afternoon, and since he’d bloodied and bruised the best man, it was on him to take over the duties.

Or so Paul had declared.

Not that Derek could blame the man.

But he wanted the wedding to be over so he and Pepper would be free of her family for a good long while. They could go back to just her and him and the beach. Peace and quiet and learning about each other.

“Sure, son,” Peter said. “What do you need?”

“I have to talk to you about Pepper.”

Across the room, Paul groaned. “Not my sister. What had she done this time?”

Derek shoved down a wave of annoyance. He turned to face Paul. “Pepper hasn’t done anything.”

“She did something,” her brother muttered. “My best man is sporting a broken nose and two black eyes.”

“Your best man was an asshole who deserved a lot more than that.”

“Why?”

Derek turned, saw Peter’s eyes were narrowed. This was so beyond the point, so far from what he wanted to discuss.

But Peter should know what a snake Andy was.

“He grabbed her. Bruised her arms.” Derek thrust a hand through his hair. “She said he’d never done that before, but—”

“I will kill him.” Peter’s tone was deadly. Well-deserved but deadly nonetheless.

“Dad!”

Paul’s tone was whiny. Well-deserved and exceptionally annoying.

“Andy doesn’t matter,” Derek interrupted. “I need—”

Peter’s phone rang.

Derek sighed.

Paul turned back to the mirror with a sigh.

And the moment had passed.

* * *

The rehearsal went off without a hitch.

That is, if someone considered the mothers of the bride and the groom at each others’ throats so frequently that the wedding planner—looking very pale but very determined—sent them to their respective corners, successful.

But the gist was they’d gotten through the rehearsal. The groomsmen and bridesmaids understood their positions. The bride had made her grand entrance—sans wedding dress, but in a very acceptable white stand-in. They’d run through vows and even practiced a “wedding kiss.”

The only thing left was food.

As in they finally got to eat some.

During which Derek planned to tie down Peter O’Brien if necessary. He needed to put their deal to an end.

He’d written an addendum to their contract—see, his law skills hadn’t gone unused—and now he needed Peter to acknowledge and sign on the dotted line.

Until then, he had to keep his distance from Pepper.

She deserved someone who didn’t have puppet strings attached.

She deserved more than a man who was chasing after her family’s money and resources.

She deserved a man who loved her for herself, not for any of the rest of it.

“Derek.”

The feminine hiss didn’t belong to Pepper.

Instead it was Summer, standing opposite him, eyes glaring. What could she possibly want?

He’d jumped hoops, looked attentive. For fuck’s sake, his mind had drifted for one second—

Then he blinked and realized what she needed.

Rings.

Because apparently they were running through the whole damned thing.

Again.

Again.

Please let lightning strike him down.

He’d die too young, but at least he would be done with this godforsaken rehearsal.

But lightning didn’t come, and he reached into his pocket for the rings. It was his fault he was filling in for Andy’s duties.

The other man couldn’t see out of either eye, let alone appear reasonably presentable for a photographer and videographer, and God knew what other kinds of –graphers Summer and Paul had hired.

Still he was half-hoping that the double black eyes healed rapidly. He was also half-hoping that Andy would fall into a vat of acid.

Simple. That was his life.

“Derek!”

“Sorry,” he muttered and pulled the rings from his pocket for the fourth time that evening.

Food. It would come soon.