My jaw automatically clenches before I consciously release it. “No, Gabriel.”
“There’s another brother?” Jesus, how new is this girl? “Let me see if he’s available.”
She picks up her phone, angling her body slightly away, as if I’m intruding on her privacy. “Mr. Bishop, your brother is here to see you.” There’s a pause and then she whispers, “No, not Connor. It’s Gabriel.” Another excruciating pause. “I don’t know what he wants.”
Well, shit. Why did I even bother coming?
She hangs up and turns back to me, a flirty smile on her face. “He’ll see you now.”
“Thanks,” I tell her dryly, passing by her desk to head into his office.
Sleek, minimalistic furniture in shades of black and chrome greets me as I walk in, throwing me off temporarily.
“Did you redecorate in here?” I ease down onto a surprisingly comfortable metal-framed couch with supple leather cushions and cross my legs, surveying my older brother. He doesn’t bother to look away from his computer monitor, squinting at something on the screen.
“I couldn’t stand Dad’s heavy oak stuff anymore.”
“Every real businessman has a solid wood desk,” I imitate gruffly, admittedly not as good as Connor can do it.
He glances at me in surprise, his expression almost like he wants to laugh but is unfamiliar with the idea. “What are you doing here?” he asks instead, leaning back in his chair and massaging the bridge of his nose. Though he’s only a year older than me, this job appears to have aged him.
I don’t bother giving him a sarcastic quip or glib remark, sensing he won’t find much humor in it. “Will you be my best man?”
His eyes go from tired to sharp in an instant. “I thought you’d ask Connor.”
“He can’t guarantee he’ll make it.”
“Right,” he murmurs, nodding his head slowly. “Uh, yeah, of course.” His gaze shifts to the calendar on the edge of his desk. “I’m honored.”
I hold back a snort. Yeah, right.
“When is the wedding?”
I shrug. “Within the next month or so. Have to make sure the deal goes through.”
He ignores my comment, asking, “What will I have to do?” He tugs at his tie, smoothing down the patterned fabric. “I’ve never been a best man before.”
“Your guess is as good as mine. This is all new to me too. Just get fitted for a tux and show up.”
“Okay.” He fiddles with the edge of his personalized stationery, then seems to catch himself, returning his hands in front of him. “So, about this woman you’re marrying…”
I wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but apparently that was the end of the sentence. “What about her?”
“Dad said we went to school with her, but I don’t remember her.”
I sigh. “You would’ve been two years ahead of her. They called her Ice Queen.”
A wrinkle forms between his dark brows. “Ice Queen?”
I shrug again. “She’s frosty.” Kind of like him actually, but I keep that thought to myself. “Barely says a word and doesn’t care about anybody.”
His frown deepens. “She doesn’t care about marrying into a billionaire family? Wasn’t this her idea?”
I shake my head before he’s finished speaking. “Her dad’s. She-” I cut myself off, refusing to admit she thought she’d be marrying him instead. “It’ll be fine. The marriage is in name only.”
His lips twist before he settles back into his normal default stoic expression. “I never imagined you’d marry like this. You and Connor…” he trails off directionless.
What’s up with him? Archer’s the cool and collected one, a firm decision in place for every aspect of his life. “What about you?”
He raises his gaze in surprise. “Me? I don’t plan on marrying.”
“You’re already married to your work,” I joke, but it falls flat.
He stares at me, his eyes turning that familiar frosty shade. “I am. And I have to get back to it now.”
“Right.” I stand, any kind of moment between us over. “Thanks for agreeing. Mackenzie will get in contact with you to set up a tux fitting.”
He waves his hand absent-mindedly. “Let Tracy know outside. She’ll handle the details.”
Will she, though? The girl didn’t even recognize me.
“See ya, Archie.”
I catch enough of his profile to see his lips thin. He hates being called that.
“Bye, Gabey.”
My mouth stretches in a broad grin that I hide from him as I make my way to the door, secretly enjoying him calling me the name Connor used when he was little.
Maybe there’s hope for Archer yet.
“So is this where the wedding will be?”
I gaze at the marble columns lining the center of the cavernous space, imagining Mackenzie’s blue and silver flowers wrapped around the bases, a runner serving as an aisle stretching up the length of the room toward the end where Serena and I will presumably be… married.
I swallow down the bile that rises, wishing I had a Tums or something. Maybe I’m developing acid reflux disease.
“Most likely not,” Mackenzie says, joining me in the center of the ballroom. “I’m still holding out hope for the Manhattan Haven Hotel. They bought out some other building and did a huge renovation. It’s supposed to be the hottest place to get married this year, even more than The Plaza, but I couldn’t make an appointment to even view it until two weeks from now.”
“And you waved that fancy Bishop name in front of them?”
“Of course I did,” she snorts. “It was the only reason I was able to squeeze us in to begin with.”
Up ahead, Serena wanders through the columns, a ghostly presence haunting the place with her light blonde hair and white dress.
“We’re just doing our due diligence in case Haven doesn’t work out,” Mackenzie continues. “So what do you think of this one?”
“Eh,” I shrug, glancing around at the formal interior. “It’s better than that church.”
“You mean St. Patrick’s Cathedral? F. Scott Fitzgerald was married there.”
“And look how that turned out. No, that was too fussy. Same with this place.”
She diplomatically doesn’t complain, but simply says, “Well, we need somewhere that can hold at least four hundred guests.”
Jesus Christ. Four hundred? Dad’s turning this into a circus. “Well, this whatever hotel you want will probably be fine.”
“If we can get it,” she murmurs. “Serena,” she calls out louder. “I have to take a picture of you two.”
“What?” she asks, drifting back toward us.
“Mr. Bishop wants photos of you both doing wedding things to post online.”
“Um, okay.” She seems to shrink in on herself and I mentally sigh, walking up next to her to slip my arm around her waist.
She immediately stiffens, recoiling at my touch. “Wh- What are you doing?” She gapes at me like I just groped her.
I back off, holding my hands up in front of me. “It was for the photo. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” I glance at Mackenzie for confirmation. I’m not totally in the wrong here, right?