The Billionaire's Groom

Family Matters

The tailor's measuring tape felt like a noose around Ethan's neck. He stood on a raised platform in what had apparently been transformed into a temporary fitting room, surrounded by mirrors that showed his discomfort from every possible angle. Three people buzzed around him like expensive bees: Paolo, the master tailor; his assistant Marco; and a stern-looking woman named Victoria who'd introduced herself as Alexander's personal stylist.

"The shoulders need to be perfect," Victoria declared, circling Ethan like a fashion-conscious shark. "This isn't just any wedding suit. This is a Sterling wedding. Every photo will be scrutinized."

"No pressure," Ethan muttered.

"The Sterlings have used Caraceni for three generations," Paolo said, pins held between his lips as he adjusted something at Ethan's hip. "Mr. Alexander's father wore one of my suits at his wedding, God rest his soul."

That caught Ethan's attention. "Alex's father passed away?"

"Five years ago," Victoria supplied, frowning at a sleeve length. "Heart attack during a board meeting. Mr. Alexander took over as CEO the same day. He was twenty-eight."

Twenty-eight and suddenly running a multi-billion dollar empire. Ethan tried to imagine that kind of pressure and couldn't.

"There," Paolo stepped back, admiring his work. "What do you think?"

Ethan stared at his reflection. The suit was unlike anything he'd ever worn – black with the subtlest pattern woven into the fabric, making it seem to shift like water in certain lights. The cut was immaculate, making him look taller, more sophisticated. More like someone who belonged in Alexander Sterling's world.

"It's perfect," he admitted.

"Of course it is," Victoria checked her watch. "Now change quickly. The car leaves for The Pierre in thirty minutes, and we can't be late for lunch with the family."

The Pierre. Of course the Sterlings wouldn't just meet at a regular restaurant.

Back in his room (he still couldn't think of it as 'their' room), Ethan changed into the outfit Victoria had laid out: a light blue button-down that apparently brought out his eyes, charcoal slacks that cost more than his monthly rent, and a sports coat that felt like wearing a cloud.

Alexander was waiting by the elevator, looking devastating in a similar but clearly more expensive version of casual elegance. He gave Ethan an appraising look that made his skin warm.

"The suit fitting went well?"

"Paolo is a miracle worker," Ethan said. "Though I think Victoria wanted to strangle me when I asked if we could do navy instead of black."

A hint of a smile played at Alex's lips. "Victoria takes wedding aesthetics very seriously. Though I should warn you, she's nothing compared to my grandmother."

The car ride to The Pierre was filled with last-minute coaching. "Remember," Alex said, "we met three months ago when you planned my cousin Rebecca's wedding. It was love at first sight. We've been quietly dating since then."

"And we kept it secret because..."

"Because I needed to be sure the board wouldn't leak it to the press before I was ready to come out." Alex's jaw tightened. "My grandmother still isn't entirely... comfortable with my bisexuality. But she values the Sterling name above all else. She'll be civil."

Ethan reached over and squeezed Alex's hand before he could think better of it. Alex looked startled but didn't pull away.

The Pierre's restaurant was predictably elegant, all crystal and white tablecloths. A maitre d' led them to a private room where three people waited: an elegant woman in her seventies who could only be the grandmother, a younger woman who shared Alex's blue eyes, and a man about Alex's age in an impeccably tailored suit.

"Alexander, darling," the grandmother rose, air-kissing Alex's cheeks. "You're late."

"Traffic, Grand-mère. May I present Ethan Chen, my fiancé."

Ethan felt himself being dissected by three pairs of eyes. The grandmother – Margaret Sterling, he remembered from his briefing – examined him like she was appraising a questionable auction piece.

"Mr. Chen," she extended her hand, which Ethan kissed as he'd been instructed. "What a... surprise this all is."

"A wonderful one, I hope," Alex's sister – Catherine – stepped forward with a warmer smile. "I'm Cathy, this one's much more charming sister. And this is my husband, James Harrison."

James shook Ethan's hand firmly. "Welcome to the circus," he muttered, earning an elbow from his wife.

They sat down to a lunch that probably cost more than Ethan's weekly grocery budget. He was hyperaware of using the right fork, of sitting straight, of every lesson in etiquette he'd picked up from years of working high-society weddings.

"So, Mr. Chen," Margaret Sterling sipped her wine, "tell us about your... business."

The slight pause before 'business' spoke volumes. "Ever After Events specializes in luxury weddings and high-profile social events," Ethan said smoothly. "We pride ourselves on discretion and attention to detail."

"Ah yes, Rebecca's wedding." Margaret's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Though I heard you started rather... small."

"Grand-mère," Alex's voice held a warning.

"I believe in building from the ground up," Ethan met her gaze steadily. "It teaches you the value of hard work."

"Indeed." Margaret turned to Alex. "And this wedding of yours. So rushed. One might think there was a reason for the hurry."

Ethan nearly choked on his wine. Was she implying...?

"The only reason," Alex said coldly, "is that when you find the right person, why wait?"

"Of course, darling. Though one does wonder about the timing, with the board meeting coming up..."

"I think it's romantic," Cathy interrupted. "And anyone can see how happy Alex is. When was the last time you saw him smile this much?"

Ethan glanced at Alex, surprised to find him actually smiling softly. He was good at this, Ethan realized. Very good.

The rest of lunch passed in a blur of subtle digs and pointed questions. Margaret wanted to know about Ethan's family ("Just my sister"), his education ("NYU"), his future plans ("Expanding the business"). Each answer seemed to confirm something she'd already decided.

Finally, as dessert arrived, she set down her spoon with a decisive clink. "Well, this has been... illuminating. Alexander, a word in private?"

They stepped outside, leaving Ethan with Cathy and James. As soon as the door closed, Cathy reached over and squeezed his hand.

"Don't let her scare you," she said. "She was the same way with me at first. Now she only criticizes my choice of curtains instead of my entire existence."

"That's... comforting?"

"What Cathy means," James said, "is that Margaret Sterling's approval is like a rare wine – it takes years to develop and usually leaves a bitter aftertaste."

Ethan laughed despite himself, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

Alex and his grandmother returned, Alex's jaw tight but his expression controlled. "We should go," he said. "We have that meeting with the florist."

They said their goodbyes, Margaret's "Welcome to the family" sounding more like a threat than a greeting. In the car, Alex was quiet, staring out the window.

"That went well," Ethan ventured.

Alex turned to him, something vulnerable in his expression. "I'm sorry about her. She's... traditional."

"Hey, at least she didn't have me investigated." At Alex's silence, Ethan groaned. "She didn't."

"The report should arrive on her desk this evening."

"Wonderful." Ethan leaned back in his seat. "Think she'll find anything interesting?"

"Besides your perfect credit score despite your sister's medical bills? Your volunteer work at children's hospitals? The fact that you once returned a wallet with ten thousand dollars in it?" Alex's lips quirked. "No, probably nothing interesting at all."

Ethan stared at him. "You investigated me too."

"Of course I did. I needed to know who I was trusting with my life." Alex paused. "You're a good person, Ethan Chen. Better than this deception deserves."

The honesty in his voice made something twist in Ethan's chest. Before he could respond, Alex's phone buzzed.

"The florist canceled," he said. "We have the afternoon free. Would you... like to get coffee? Somewhere that doesn't cost a month's salary per cup?"

Ethan blinked at him. "You know places like that exist?"

"I did attend college once." Alex smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "I even know a place that serves decent coffee in actual paper cups."

"Mr. Sterling, I'm shocked." But Ethan was smiling too. "Lead the way."

As they directed the driver to a small coffee shop in the Village, Ethan wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was more to Alexander Sterling than met the eye. And maybe that was the most dangerous part of this whole arrangement.