“Why are you standing here?” he asked, not bothering to lower his voice in front of the other guests.

“I came to celebrate your wedding,” I told him, trying to work out whether he was actually being serious.

“You’re cluttering up the entrance, Jenna,” he replied with a deep, annoyed sigh.

“The entrance?” I asked, as a sharp heat began to rise in my chest.

He checked his watch and explained that high-level investors and the board of directors from Apex Dynamics would be arriving any minute.

“I can’t have any distractions in the background of the professional photos,” he added, eyeing my outfit critically.

I looked down at my dress and my hair—both of which had been chosen according to his very specific, demanding instructions.

“I’m your sister,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“And that’s exactly why I found a much more appropriate place for you to sit,” he answered, pulling a seating chart from his pocket.

He pointed to Table Nineteen, tucked away in the farthest corner of the room, right next to the swinging kitchen doors.