Ambrose and Konstantin were well on their way to being drunk when the first dance started. Kon ditched his girlfriends to meander over and sling an arm around Ambrose’s shoulders.

For a moment they watched in silence as Banner and Kate danced.

“He’s a lucky bastard.” Konstantin smiled and shook his head. “Remember how he used to think he’d never find anyone that suited him? And now look at him. Fucking married.” He put his beer bottle to his lips and tipped it back.

“I’m glad he pulled his head out of his ass and claimed her. They belong together.”

Konstantin gave him a long look, which involved substantial beer breath considering how close they were. “You, my friend, are an honorable man. How did you manage to keep your hands off her after he gave her to you? I might have lasted a day—but only if I was sick or something.”

Ambrose didn’t believe that for a minute. They all had a weakness for women—especially submissive ones—but there was no way Kon would have done things any differently if he’d been in Ambrose’s place. If he’d seen the way Banner and Kate had pined for each other, Kon wouldn’t have slept with Kate either. The three of them had been best friends since they were kids. They’d never betray one another.

Having Kate so close for so long, and the fact that they were compatible and she was on the rebound, had meant that Ambrose had spent a lot of quality time in cold showers. If Emmy Awards could be given for lying in a relationship, there would be one on his mantel. Ambrose had wanted her, but not like Banner did. Not like she was air and he was suffocating. You didn’t fuck with something like that—especially if one of the people involved was your best friend.

“This was meant to happen.” He sighed. “She wasn’t mine, and I knew that even if she didn’t.”

Konstantin hugged him, and Ambrose was glad he wasn’t in a wrestling mood tonight. Drunk and affectionate Konstantin was less exhausting than drunk and affectionately aggressive Konstantin.

“Ya tebya lyublyu, Ambrose.” Konstantin kissed his cheek. “I love you. Someday they’ll build a monument to you, and men will go there to ask for the strength not to fuck their best friends’ girlfriends.”

“Hopefully they’ll leave me interesting sacrifices.” Ambrose sipped at his own beer. Time to slow down a bit. He didn’t want to be the obnoxious drunk at this wedding and faceplant in the cake or do something else they’d never let him live down.

“You want to borrow one of my girls tonight? Or join us?”

“No thanks.” Ambrose chuckled, but knowing Kon, he wasn’t joking. They’d shared girls before.

“If I ever get married, I would share her with you and Banner. No one else though. Fuck those other guys.” He belched and Ambrose turned his head away before he got a blast of beery air.

“You’re a good friend.” He patted Konstantin’s shoulder. “Your babushka wants you to marry a nice Russian girl though. What if she’s vanilla?”

“Can you see me marrying a vanilla girl? My balls would turn blue and blow up.” He made an exploding noise, complete with hand gesture. “Speaking of which, what happened with your hot little hairdresser? I saw you put her in the corner, and I gave it about five minutes before you started humping her leg.”

“Everly is . . .” What was she? He’d been trying to block some of that night out, but scenes from it kept replaying in his head like a sexy flashback slideshow. So much had happened since, with the flight to Saint Thomas and the wedding prep, that it was hard to believe it was only two nights ago.

He’d never had so much trouble maintaining control with a woman. As much as Konstantin had mocked him for looking like he wanted to throw her on the bar and fuck her, they’d been all over each other for the rest of the night. He’d seriously considered fucking her in a back room, or in his car, but it felt too sleazy, and she deserved better. Taking her home wasn’t an option, unless he could think of an excuse for having a big, fancy house. “It’s complicated.”

“Did you fuck her?”

“No. Sadly, no.” Ambrose drained his beer and set the bottle down on the table next to them. “She hates rich men, so I can’t bring her home.”

“Rent an apartment, or use one of your warehouses. You need to get laid.” Konstantin’s focus shifted to his women, who were making their way over to them. “Have you even dated anyone since Kate? It’s been almost a year.”

“You know the answer to that.” He rubbed his eyes, already tired. It had been a long day, and knowing he had to stay until the end of the festivities was making him wish he could go to bed early. He’d danced with Kate’s friend Bethany a few times, and she’d shown obvious signs of interest, but it wasn’t her who he wanted.

What he really wanted was to take a curvy little brat with purple hair streaks and show her that he could handle her. If they’d met sooner, he would have asked her to come to the wedding, but a trip to the Caribbean was a bit much for a second date.

The more he thought about Everly and their intense attraction, though, the more leery he got. If life had taught him anything, it was that when things seemed too good to be true, they generally were.

Maybe his body needed relief, but his emotions needed to stay the hell out of the equation.

Chapter Three

“The city council plans to shut down the central no-freeze homeless shelter, leaving dozens of homeless people on the streets this winter,” Everly shouted to the crowd of Saturday shoppers downtown. “Please sign our petition to keep it open and consider coming to the protest November tenth.” She held out flyers as people walked by. Mostly, they ignored her, but a few had taken them. Some had even stopped to sign the petition and ask how they could help.

Chloe spoke to a middle-aged woman wearing glasses and a trench coat. She nodded along as Chloe explained the steps to get the city to keep it open—the big protest next month, finding sponsors to donate, and gathering a few more volunteers. In today’s social and economic climate, it was harder than it sounded.

“Please help us protest the closing of the no-freeze shelter!” Everly refocused on her task, trying not to get discouraged by how many people walked by without even making eye contact.

Ugh. So frustrating. If more people cared—even ordinary people—they’d make a bigger impact. But the rich would keep on getting richer if the middle and lower classes never spoke up about it. Why did it feel like everyone was so oblivious except for her and a few others? Consumerism and capitalism were all around them, sucking the compassion from the world, and they just walked by, sipping their lattes and texting on their phones. No wonder everyone was so depressed. This was what happened when humanity got greedy.

God, she would never, ever be rich. Even if she somehow won the lottery without entering, she’d give it all away before she could touch a single penny of it. Money corrupted just as much as power did. She’d seen it more than once. She’d felt the stab in the back too. And by her own family. Even at a young age, their sneers burned.

One memory stood out from the rest. Her mom’s cousin, who she’d been close to as a child—had died suddenly in a car accident. They hadn’t been welcome at the funeral.

Even though the rest of the family shunned them, her mom had grasped Everly’s small hand and held her head high. Through the heat of their glares, Everly drew on her mother’s strength.

Later, she overheard her grandmother whisper to people she didn’t recognize, “They can’t possibly be as poor as Lysette makes them sound,” she said. “Disgraceful. And just look at how chunky Everly has gotten.”