Page 92 of Resisting the Billionaire

Mackenzie

Ibelievedisasteris the word I’m searching for. It’s the closest thing I can think of to sum up what this rehearsal dinner is like so far.

Catered personally by Haven’s Michelin-rated chef, the food is exquisite. Seated in the restaurant’s private room on the top floor of the hotel that ninety-nine percent of New Yorkers will never lay eyes on, I have a singular chance to enjoy quite likely the most exclusive meal of my life. This place is even harder to get into than Chez Alexandre’s.

But I barely taste the delectable-looking appetizer in front of me. The room is silent. And I don’t mean there’s just an awkward lull in the conversation. I mean you could hear a pin drop. And it’s been that way for the past twenty minutes. Damn these fancy restaurants and their four-course meals that take forever.

“More wine, my lady?” the server asks as he enters and stops near me, the question nearly deafening after so long without sound.

I stare longingly at the bottle he presents, something French I can’t pronounce that’s been aging longer than I’ve been alive, then back at my empty wine glass. “I really shouldn’t,” I demure, choosing to be responsible and keep my wits about me.

Ugh, there’s that word again. I’d chokeresponsibleif I could.

I glance over at Gabriel across the table, who merely holds his glass out as the server approaches him next. This marks his third refill. In twenty minutes. He doesn’t meet my gaze as he takes a sip, ignoring the lobster salad with beetroot on his plate. His goal tonight is apparently only the consumption of alcohol.

Next to him, Serena picks daintily at her food, birdlike in her eating as she takes the tiniest bites possible. She asked for a vegetarian option, and from the amount of kale it involves, I’m glad I didn’t get it.

I thought the wedding rehearsal earlier had been brutal, but at least there was music and movement, a recorded version of the traditional wedding march replacing the string quartet that will play for them tomorrow, the minister’s clear, strong voice explaining to Gabriel and Serena exactly what he’ll say. They’ve both opted not to speak any personal vows, so the ceremony itself should be over fairly quick.

Gabriel’s only request had been for the minister to remove certain words. Anything hinting at loving, cherishing, obeying, commitment, devotion… The list had gone on until the wording pretty much consisted ofa uniting of these two families. Mr. Bishop’s eye had ticked, but it’s not like he could really blame him.

At least I don’t.

I’d watched the engaged couple standing at the altar, looking anywhere but at each other, doing everything in my power to keep my face neutral, to not let any hint of what was going on inside to show. What were the lines from that Disney song?Conceal, don’t feel? Yeah, that was me.

All this torture I’ve put me and Gabriel through staying apart will be for nothing if his dad and brother see my true feelings. Then again, if Archer still hasn’t caught on to the way Serena’s been surreptitiously eyeing him this whole night, there’s not much hope for him. He’s either exceptionally unobservant or extraordinarily polite.

It’s obvious that both fathershavepicked up on her interest, they’re just choosing to ignore it. What’s done is done. The players are set and all that’s left is to make it legal tomorrow.

But it’s all so… wrong. Even for two families uniting, there’s no common sense of purpose, no joy. Mr. Montague doesn’t seem to be the same man he was from the initial planning meeting, any trace of friendliness gone, appearing aggrieved by both his daughter and Mr. Bishop. If he’s upset with Serena, I can understand that, solely because she tried to call off the wedding so close to its arrival. But what beef does he have with Gabriel’s father? Is the merger not going according to plan?

You know, it doesn’t matter. After tomorrow, I’m done with all this business. I’ve spent all day hardening my heart. I’m not the girl who jumps blindly into situations like this anymore. The way I did starting my business without fully anticipating the problems that would arise. The way I went over to Gabriel’s apartment when Serena called off the wedding before seeing if it would stick. Even moving to New York with no job prospects and only a dream. I’d floundered for the first few months before landing a position with Denise.

I need to be more cautious. Keep safe.

But those risky things were some of the best decisions of your life.

That’s true. I love living in New York more than I ever did in Ohio, even if my apartment right now is crappy. And while I got along great with Denise, there’s nothing like the thrill of owning my own business. Yes, the hard times are more stressful, but it makes the accomplishments that much sweeter. I earned them myself.

And this thing with Gabriel… no, I don’t regret that either. Even if it wasn’t meant to be. Even if a part of me is missing. He was never mine to begin with. I should be content with what we did have together.

I sip from my water glass, rubbing at the ache in my chest that won’t go away, and force myself to take another bite of my stuffed portobello, trying to appreciate the tangy goat cheese, crispy panko topping, and heavenly smelling smoked bacon crumbles. But it’s like ash in my mouth. And like so much in my life lately, gone before I know it.

“The party’s arrived,” a voice announces, a dark-haired man striding into the room who has to be related to Gabriel in some way. He has the trademark blue Bishop eyes and similar enough facial features that make me strongly suspect it’s his brother that’s been overseas.

Mr. Bishop and Archer glance up from their phones as Gabriel abandons his drinking binge to stand and pull the man into an embrace, the two matched in height.

“Connor,” he grins, the first smile I’ve seen from him since the night I spent at his apartment. He looks so happy, it almost hurts to see.

My eyes flick to Archer, an expression on his face nearly like… longing? Does he wish he had that kind of relationship with his brothers? Gabriel said he’s always been too reserved for his own good.

“You left the project in capable hands?” Mr. Bishop asks his son, his eyes narrowing slightly. Nohello, noglad you could make it for your brother’s wedding. Just business. I seriously don’t understand how Gabriel’s even related to him.

“It’s fine, Dad,” Connor assures him, walking around the table to clap him and Archer on the backs. “And you must be the lovely Serena,” he smiles warmly at her. “Welcome to the family.”

She startles slightly but appears pleased. Not one of these men has actually welcomed her, have they?

He shakes hands with Mr. Montague next, but comes up short when he gets to me. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. I’m Connor Bishop, Gabriel’s brother.”

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