Return Of The Betrayed Heiress
A tumbler of bourbon rested in his hand, though he'd barely touched it.
"Man, I still can't believe you're getting married," Adrian said. He leaned back on the leather sofa with that familiar half-smirk. "Smith Robinson, CEO of Robinson Empire, Mr. I-don't-do-commitment-anymore, is about to say 'I do.' Hell must've frozen over."
The group erupted in laughter. Smith just shook his head. A quiet smile formed. "Guess hell's colder than we thought."
"Or maybe," another friend, Jason, said, raising his glass, "you finally found someone who could thaw that ice you've been carrying since Claire."