Page 7 of Fixer for the Billionaire

You're so childish. I don't suck anything

Pro tip: Maybe if you did, you'd enjoy more of a social life

After a pause, Carmina texts back.

Have a nice evening, Quentin. And while you're at it, take a nice, big leap into hell.

Aww, love you too ??

P.S. I'm already in hell, Sanchez. Wedding party hell. Goodnight

I set my phone down, reaching for my cognac as Killian glances my way. "Let me guess: you pissed her off even more."

I shrug. "At least it'll spice up my Best Man speech."

My phone buzzes again, pulling my attention to the latest arrival.

A calendar notification from Carmina pops up with the title "Exciting Meeting with Party Planners (a.k.a. Napkin Folds & Table Settings Discussion)."

My lips curl into a smirk, though the amusement quickly fades as I'm reminded of the real reason my brothers dragged me here tonight. The very reason I'm supposed to steer clear of any fun or distractions.

Apparently, no one—neither Carmina nor my family—believes I can stay focused on my work without getting tangled in some fling or, worse, distracting myself with a donut-munching dog.

I down my cognac in one smooth motion and swipe a pork chop from the table. "Thanks for the free drink, guys. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an early meeting tomorrow and need to wash off this 'intervention.'"

Stepping out into the cool night, the air feels like a refreshing change from the restaurant's warm glow.

The pork chop, now an offering of peace, grabs the attention of the alley's unofficial sentinel, an orange tabby with a critical eye for food.

"Consider this a critique from the high table," I say, offering the chop. The scruffy cat takes it with a nod, then turns to its meal.

I flag down a cab, sliding into the backseat, feeling like a man who's just begun to rewrite his narrative. My phone lights up as I review the note attached to Carmina's invite.

Looking forward to our enthralling venture into party planning ????. Who knew discussing napkin folds could be a highlight of my otherwise mundane life ???

Get ready, Carmina, for a deep dive into table settings and, if we're daring, the exhilarating world of chair covers ???. Yours, Quentin, in eager anticipation of an epic saga of decor.

I hit Send, no second thoughts.

Day 1 of being Best Man is over. 59 more to go.

Chapter Three

CARMINA

“Gabriela! Valeria!" I yell, my voice bouncing off the light blue walls of our Seattle townhome. "Breakfast! Let's get a move on! Right now!"

Silence.

After Jenny's hellish declaration last night, I sigh, shaking as I drop scrambled eggs with Serrano peppers and tomatoes onto plates. My spatula-holding hand trembles from the week's stress.

Juggling pre-launch events for Danity Dandridge's "Love in Seattle" series and wrangling my younger sisters has been...a lot. Then there's yesterday's Maid of Honor-Best Man bombshell. Quentin Anderson as my pre-wedding partner makes my skin crawl.

The man is sandpaper personified. Rough, abrasive, and annoying.

My "Try Not to Go Bat-Shit Crazy" list is short but sweet.

Step one: Survive the next eight weeks

---