An entire year’s work of finding the one had been wasted. An entire year of my life had been spent dating men who were useless. An entire year of my—
I accidentally knocked a packet of brightly colored sticky notes to the floor. A cup of pens followed, scattering like marbles. I paused, exhaled that dragon breath again. Touched the side of my eye where a tear had the audacity to appear. I wiped it away, shook my head.
My name was Fiona Lennox Quinn, and I did not cry over useless men.
I made plans.
As I scooped up everything I’d dropped, my hands landed on my work bag, currently stuffed with carefully organized files of legal documents.
A brilliant light bulb went off in my brain. And I knew just the person—just the sister—to help me implement a new plan. I sent a message to the sister in question, letting her know I was stopping by for a spontaneous visit. I ignored the slight pinch that reminded me I hadn’t seen my best friend in more than a month. Ever since Roxy had found her own actual soul mate—and was so damn happy I literally ached to see it—my desire to check this major life goal off my list had accelerated. So we hadn’t seen each other as frequently as we used to. But she had Edward now, and I had a husband to find. At a certain point I had to narrow down my focus and decrease distractions.
I told all the animals, and they’re very excited to see their Aunt Fi, she wrote back. Everything okay though?
I tapped my fingernails on the side of my phone. Roxy hadn’t been that enthusiastic about Brendan the one time they’d met. Her exact words had been duller than watching paint dry. The memory was gratifying now, and, okay, I’d fucking never admit this to my big sister, but she was right. I kept hoping his personality and charm would appear out of nowhere, like he was only hiding it to surprise me with later. His (supposed) excitement over marriage and commitment was what kept me going.
I hated to admit defeat. But the second Roxy saw my face, her sneaky big-sister powers would spot the lie. Brendan dumped me. I’m fine but need your and Edward’s help with something.
A second later, my phone lit up with her reply. Hiding his dead fucking body?
I pressed the phone to my chest and shut my eyes, happy I was alone for this brief moment of vulnerability. The Quinns could be frustrating and intense, but there was never any doubt they wouldn’t move mountains for me if I asked.
Thank you for that generous offer, but I’m good on body removal services. I carefully placed files and document templates into my bag. Picked up the needle on the record and silenced the music. I fixed the tiniest smudge of eyeliner and checked my appearance one last time.
I knew what I had to do now.
It was time to sign a fucking contract.
2
Fiona
Roxy opened the door to her and Edward’s apartment in Washington Heights wearing a scowl filled with sisterly affection. She held out a glass of red wine so fast I had to jump back.
“Your support is appreciated, as always.” I smirked. “And I’ll take that, thank you.”
Wine in hand, I went to slide past her, but she stopped me with a hug I hadn’t seen coming. “Did that boring asshole break your heart?”
“Not a chance in hell,” I said. Although the spontaneous hug from my sister had me feeling more than Brendan’s text. “Also, I miss you.”
She pulled back, led me inside to be greeted by her parade of rescue pets. “Yeah, same. Where have you been, by the way?”
I set the glass and my bag down as two cats and a dog came bounding over to me. Sinking to my knees, I gave grateful hugs to my furry nieces and nephews. Apple and Cucumber purred at my feet while Roxy’s three-legged pit bull, Busy Bee, spun around in excitement. My sister was devoted to animal rescue, an issue that revealed the secret soft heart beneath her snarky scowls and heavily inked skin.
“Work has been chaos. As usual. And I’ve been busy dating boring assholes and then being dumped by them, via text.” I opened up my text exchange with Brendan and handed her my phone. Her eyebrows shot up in approval.
“‘Go fuck yourself forever’ has a nice ring to it. And I’d be happy to terrorize him in a dark alley, even if he is only a minor annoyance.”
I lifted one shoulder and managed to avoid her concerned gaze. “He was all about commitment and monogamy two days ago when we were having sex. Interestingly enough.”
Roxy shot me a look I couldn’t avoid. “And you’re sure your heart’s okay?”
“It wasn’t like that with Brendan,” I said. “My heart reserves judgment until I can ensure they meet my requirements.” I poked her arm. “No falling in love with my business school mentor on day one, like some of us in this family.”
Teasing my sister about how rapidly she’d fallen in love with her sophisticated, British fiancé was one of my favorite things to do. And the way she grinned back at me illustrated how hopelessly in love she was. My sister’s passionate love affair with Edward was painfully obvious to anyone standing in the same room with them. I’d never experienced that feeling—yet. My relationships, when I had them, tended to be a little quieter. Muted. More of a study in our compatibility and less tearing-your-clothes-off-I’m-obsessed.
But I assumed this came after your soul mate status was guaranteed. What was the point in messy, distracting passion if it only derailed your plans?
I stood, reaching for the freshly shaved side of Roxy’s head. “Edward touch that up for you?”
“What are hot fiancés for?” Like me, she was blond—although her dye job was more silver-platinum—and her hair hung long down her left shoulder. The right side of her skull had been shaved for years. It exposed the dazzling array of piercings in her ear and solidified her punk-rock aesthetic. Against her pale white skin, my sister’s tattoos were colorful, bright, and artistic. She was a tattoo artist who specialized in vintage designs, and her shop—Roxy’s—was just a subway stop away. From her combat boots to her fishnet stockings, she was a Quinn all the way.
Which was why my family always teased me about my expensive pantsuits and tailored dresses, my pearls and diamonds and perfectly coiffed hair. But I liked the clothing that I wore, and I’d learned early on that fishnet stockings made my legs break out in a rash.
Edward’s giant and sweet rescue dog, Matilda, came loping out of the hallway, searching for affection. I dropped a big kiss onto her boxy head. My future brother-in-law stepped out of their bedroom, still dressed in his suit from work. He was white with short, light-brown hair and piercing blue eyes. And Edward Cavendish III looked like fucking royalty—from his posture to his extremely expensive clothing, only enhanced by a refined English accent and the tendency to blush.
If my sister embodied the eighties punk look, Edward was her exact opposite in every way.
“Hello, Fi,” he said kindly, pulling me in for a brotherly bear hug. Which was nice. Over the past two years, he had grown from my sister’s super-hot boyfriend to the brother I’d never had. “Body disposal is certainly a service I’d be happy to pay for, should you see a need.”
“I’ll keep it in mind, thank you.” I squeezed him back. “What have you two love birds been up to this evening?”