Drama

Prologue
DRAKE—AGE 23, NEW YEAR’S EVE
Ialways loved the sound of ice clinking against glass. It reminds me of summers when I was a kid. As an adult, it comes with the promise of a good Scotch. Which is exactly what my father is pouring into six tumblers. He hands a glass of the fifty-year-old Macallan to each of my brothers and me. My two older brothers stare absentmindedly out the window, watching the fireworks that herald the new year.
Maddox stares blankly at his drink, keeping up the pretense that he has no idea what to do with it. He might be the youngest of us, but I know for sure that he’s capable of telling a single malt from an Irish blend.
Mason is the first to say what I suspect we’re all thinking. “Does anybody else feel like it’s weird that it’s just us?”
New Year’s Eve was always a big deal in our house. It was a time for dancing and drinking, for family and friends. Tonigh

AMELIA
Weddings suck.
At least they suck if you’re single and too scared to mingle. Or if your confidence is blown after discovering your husband was giving more than dictation to his twenty-three-year-old secretary. Or if you’re so low on funds that your credit card screams for mercy when you buy the cheapest thing from the couple’s Bloomingdale’s gift registry.
And if you happen to check off all of the above? Then weddings suck even more. I would have skipped it if I could have and stayed home with a bowl of ramen and the latest season of Bridgerton. But this isn’t just any wedding—this is the wedding of my best friend, Emily Gregor. It’s hard to skip out on a wedding when you’re the maid of honor, and besides, I love Emily to pieces.
We’ve been best friends for the past fourteen years despite the fact that we’re as different as two people can possibly be. She’s a beautiful, outgoing s

MELANIE
“Bye, Cass. See you tomorrow.” My colleague and I part ways and I head for the subway. My feet ache, protesting every step I take, and I contemplate getting a cab but they’re so expensive. Tyler does me a solid letting me live in his gorgeous apartment for barely any rent, so I’m able to afford the occasional luxury, but I decide against it and keep walking. The sight of the familiar car up ahead makes me groan. I wish I could turn and walk—no, run the other way, but he’s already jogging toward me.
“What do you want, Bryce?”
He pulls a fake sad face. “I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day, sis. I was stressed and …” He flicks his hair out of his eyes. “I’m really worried. About Mom. About Ash.”
Then stop gambling and making terrible business decisions, Bryce!That is exactly what I should say, but seventeen years of conditioning are hard to break. Bryce is a bully and a coward, and he will never change.
“Let me give you a ride home.” He smiles with all the charm of a cobra.
“It’s fine. I can take the subway.”
His demeanor changes in an instant, and the smile turns to a snarl. “Don’t make a scene, Melanie, and get in the fucking car.”
With a roll of my eyes, I do as he asks. It’s easier than arguing with him. He always gets what he wants anyway, and he has ever since we were kids. I shrug off my jacket and sink back into the passenger seat of Bryce’s BMW. At least his fancy car is comfortable.
He’s been driving for a few minutes when he brings up the real reason he showed up. “Did you give any more thought to my proposal?”
That word sends a shiver down my spine. He makes it sound so creepy. “To marry Nathan James and have his babies?” I snap.
He sighs and shoots me a sympathetic look, which I can only assume is fake because he has the emotional intelligence of pond scum. “Look, I know I might not have sold it very well, but this doesn’t have to be a long-term thing. If we play our cards right, you can be divorced within a year. Two at most.”
“And how will that help the business, Bryce? Nathan James is a hotshot lawyer. So is his brother. Even if he weren’t, his family has a team of lawyers. You think they aren’t going to have a cast-iron prenup?”
“Course they will.” He snorts. “But we’ll insist on a morality clause to protect our family’s good name.”
My brow pinches in a frown. “A what?”
“A morality clause. It basically means that if he does anything to tarnish your good name, then you can walk away with a pile of cash.”
“What the hell could he do to tarnish my name?” I snap, reminded of the rumors he and my mother spread about me when I took a break from college. At the time I was too brokenhearted to see how ridiculous their scheme was or how fucked up it was that they thought the rumors were more palatable than the truth.
“It’s mostly used for cheating spouses,” he says, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.
“But he might not cheat, especially if he has one of those clauses in the prenup. He’s not stupid,” I insist. I guess I don’t like the idea of my husband cheating, even if the marriage is fake.
He gently squeezes my thigh. “Then, my dear sister, we make him cheat.”
I blink at him. “Make him cheat?”
“Melanie, darling, no offense but you aren’t his usual caliber of woman,” he says with a cruel sneer, and in my mind’s eye I see myself punching him in the mouth. “All we have to do is present him with a beautiful woman he can’t resist, and I’m sure he’ll take the bait.”
I press my lips together, offended on so many levels that I can’t think straight. “Like a honey trap?”
“Exactly.”
“No, Bryce. If I agree to marry this guy, I am not going to encourage him to cheat on me. Why the hell would I even do that? It’s crazy.”
“He’s going to cheat anyway, Mel. But this guarantees us evidence of his crime.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “How can you be so sure?”
He glares at me. “Because he’s Nathan James. Do you have any idea the type of man he is? He dates a different beautiful woman every week. Supermodels. Actresses. Whores. He’s also a lawyer for the Irish Mob and the Cosa Nostra, and fuck knows who else. He is not a good man. And so what if we take some of his millions? It’s pocket change to a man like him.”
Turning away from him, I stare out the window. One minute Bryce is telling me what a catch he found for me in Nathan James, and the next what a terrible man he is. I don’t know which is true, but I do know that Bryce doesn’t really care. He’d marry me off to Lucifer himself if he thought he could make a quick buck out of it.
“You know this is the right thing to do, Melly,” he says, his tone much softer now. The use of his childhood pet name for me makes bile burn in my throat. “For Mom and for Ashley.”
For Ashley, yes. Not for Mom. And definitely not for Bryce. But my little sister’s fate is unfortunately tied to theirs, and until she can stand on her own two feet, it’s up to me to take care of her. Because there’s nobody else to do it.
“Will you at least come to the meeting tomorrow?” he asks, his tone dripping with nauseating sweetness.
I wipe a stray tear from the corner of my eye.
“Melly?”
“Yes! I’ll go to the damn meeting.”

Prologue
DRAKE—AGE 23, NEW YEAR’S EVE
Ialways loved the sound of ice clinking against glass. It reminds me of summers when I was a kid. As an adult, it comes with the promise of a good Scotch. Which is exactly what my father is pouring into six tumblers. He hands a glass of the fifty-year-old Macallan to each of my brothers and me. My two older brothers stare absentmindedly out the window, watching the fireworks that herald the new year.
Maddox stares blankly at his drink, keeping up the pretense that he has no idea what to do with it. He might be the youngest of us, but I know for sure that he’s capable of telling a single malt from an Irish blend.
Mason is the first to say what I suspect we’re all thinking. “Does anybody else feel like it’s weird that it’s just us?”
New Year’s Eve was always a big deal in our house. It was a time for dancing and drinking, for family and friends. Tonight, the place feels empty, apart from all the memories. Just five miserable brothers who miss their m

Chapter 71