Page 5 of Fixer for the Billionaire

"Yeah," Killian says, sharing my smirk, "just steer clear of the pasta comments. Like the one about her bra..."

"Damn, I told you that one too?" I sigh, dragging my hand down my face. "If chivalry isn't dead, I definitely killed it today—with a rogue piece of spaghetti. I desperately need another drink."

Images of spaghetti-draped Carmina flash in my mind. Dark hair, darker eyes, and warm bronzed skin.

Shaking my head, I reach for the wine list.

"Seriously, a drink?" Alton raises an eyebrow. "After the pasta debacle, you need a whole vineyard."

"Listen, I may be the 'chosen one'—Best Man extraordinaire," I wave dismissively, "but all this maid of honor and best man nonsense is way over the top, don't you think?"

Derek grins. "Finally admitting you're not the golden child?"

"You know what I mean. It's a lot of pressure."

"And you're allergic to that," Killian interjects, breaking his silence.

"You're hilarious," I deadpan.

"But seriously, Quen," Derek's smile softens. "From a newlywed: Being Best Man is about supporting the groom and avoiding any major disasters. Given your track record, that might be a tall order."

"Whoa, whoa," I protest, raising my hands. "I might slip up now and then, but I'm not a complete disaster."

Derek fixes me with a pointed look. "Remember the Christmas tree fire?"

"That was one time."

"And losing your pants at last summer's pool party?" Killian adds.

"To be fair, I thought it was a clothing-optional event."

Alton chimes in, "And the time you forgot Uncle Joe's birthday cake, settling for gas-station donuts instead?"

"Then left them out for Uncle Joe's dog to devour," Derek continues, unrelenting.

"Okay, I get it," I concede, signaling surrender. "I can be a mess. But this is my brother's wedding. It matters." I reach for my cognac, annoyed. "Feels like I'm at an intervention."

I expect laughter or light-hearted jabs, but silence falls.

"This is an intervention, isn't it?" The realization dawns as their grins wane, eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Alton, the de facto spokesperson, clears his throat. "Actually, Quen...yeah. It is. Ever since Ry chose you, there's been concern. Your commitment skills are...questionable."

“We know a formal wedding like this wasn’t in Ryder’s plans. But look, the plan changed.We just want Ryder's day to be great. We're here to help," Killian says, tone softer than usual.

Unease settles in me. They're not wrong; commitment hasn't been my forte.

Life changed after my parents passed when I was fourteen. My dreams of a conventional life seemed to go with them. Commitment became a foreign concept.

Yet here I am, about to spin this into something positive, when my phone buzzes.

It's a message from Carmina, the Maid of Horror.

She's probably got a battle plan ready.

Killian peeks at my screen. "Looks like you've got that to handle."

I roll my eyes and open her message.

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