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21

EASTON

The last wedding I attended was my sister’s, and it had a lot of the same people as this one. I’m not entirely sure what to expect with this one. I know that to Bea, Bentley Harrison is like an uncle. But in the business world, the man’s a terrifying shark.

Everyone’s afraid of him.

Everyone.

Even Catherine Richmond gives him a wide berth. It doesn’t hurt that, on top of having family money and wealth of his own, Bentley’s also got a fatherandan uncle who are judges. There have been rumors lately that his uncle might be next in line when a certain Supreme Court Justice retires.

I can’t imagine Bea’s grandfather would try to make a scene at the wedding, but just in case, I’m going into it prepared. It took me forty hours a day for the past several days, but I’ve got a signed letter of intent from Laurent’s father, and the deal will be closed by some time next week. If good old grandpa gets rude or feisty, I’m ready for it.

Bring it, old man.

The problem with people like Bea, people who are so good that it practically oozes out of them, is that bad people can smell their vulnerability. They latch on and never let go, milking the poor givers for every last drop. If I have anything to say about it, this particular leech has pushed Bea around for the last time.

When I reach Bea’s house, I’m already in my tux. It’s gotten cool enough in New York that I’m not sweating, which is nice. I know that’s when things get irritating for the ladies, though, because they usually wear dramatically less clothing for formal events.

Something really ought to be done about that. If I wasn’t selling off my company, I’d make a note of it. Either more revealing clothing for the men, or more full coverage for the women. . . Given how hard it was to get designers to start putting pockets in women’s clothing, I’m not sure it will be an easy thing to address. But that’s a problem for another day.

Today, I only really care about Bea.

When I knock, the door opens almost immediately. Jake’s already wearing his penguin suit, too. He tosses his head in the universal sign forwhat’s up?

“Not ready to go?” I lift my eyebrows.

Jake drags one finger across his throat and then presses the same finger to his mouth.

“Who is it?” Bea pokes her head out the door, her hair tied up on the top of her head like a big, poofy bow. “It’sEastonalready?” She’s shrieking. “Why didn’t you tell me how late it was?”

“He’s early,” Jake says in a calm, measured voice. When he turns around to face me, he hisses. “Dude, younevercome early. You have a sister.”

That makes me laugh. “Elizabeth’s more of a ‘throw on whatever and schlep your way over’ kind of girl.”

Jake grimaces and shakes his head. “Bea’s not.”

I point at the TV. “Giants game?”

He frowns. “Not this early. Maybe Knicks?”

“Dude.” I snort. “Not for two weeks.”

He shrugs. “I used to keep up better, but when I start filming, I really lose track.”

“Maybe there’s some hockey on?”

Jake drops into the corner of the sofa. “Eh. It’s fine. She’s probably just got ten or fifteen minutes left.”

“Did you see her hair?”

“That’s what threw you off. Putting on her dress takes thirty seconds,” Jake says. “The reason her hair looked so weird is she’s done the whole bottom half. Doing just the top is quick, and her makeup is done. She spentwaytoo long on that earlier.”

“Jacob Priest.”

He cringes. “Shoot. She heard me.” He stands, mouthing the words “Save yourself.”

“Get in here right now.”

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