《Billionaires Dollar Series》


 Billion Dollar Enemy 1

    Skye


    My life changed that night in the hotel bar. Little did I know I had entered a different world, one of money and wealth-


    No, it¡¯s not working. It¡¯s clich¨¦d and predictable.


    I put my phone down with a sigh and reach for my Old-Fashioned. The drink screams refinement, but as I take another sip, I have to hide a grimace from the strength. I¡¯d ordered it to fit in, too afraid to tell the snooty bartender that I wanted something fruity and sugary. ncing morosely down at the overpriced drink, it is a decision I regret.


    I¡¯de here to research the novel I was working on. To understand the setting, the rich decor, the throbbing beat of unintelligible jazz music. It¡¯s an environment I¡¯m unfamiliar with, and as the English Literature graduate I am, I know all about the importance of immersion. Where better than the Legacy sky bar atop one of the fanciest hotels in Seattle? Floor-to-ceiling windows open up to a skyline, glittering like the diamond ne the woman next to me is wearing. It¡¯s a ce to see and be seen.


    The bar is only half-full, but every single person is interesting. I¡¯ve watched a beautiful blonde woman in sky-high heels eat an entire bowl of olives while staring nkly at her much older partner.


    The olives were consumed in boredom, I write in the note-taking app on my phone, like so much of her life-experiences to seek experience itself, an escape from the tediousness of reality.


    Then I read it back and delete the whole pretentious thing.


    Maybe this had been a mistake. I¡¯ve been sitting at the bar for nearly an hour alone, and it¡¯s gone from empowering to embarrassing real fast. I smooth a hand over my tightly fitted ck cocktail dress, an impulse buy over a year ago that hade in handy tonight. The novel I¡¯m working on covers ss differences and touches on the American Dream. Research is key, which is why I¡¯d ventured to the Legacy on a Thursday evening, in search of inspiration.


    But so far, I¡¯de to only two major conclusions: you have to be really rich to pay the steep drink prices here, and a nice bar is not immune to creeps.


    The man to my left shoots me another leering nce. He¡¯s nursing what must be his umpteenth scotch, his zed eyes telling.


    Isn¡¯t it funny how creepy men exist everywhere, in each and everyyer of our society? A suit and a six-figure ie makes no difference.


    I don¡¯t delete that. It¡¯s too true.


    The man moves a few chairs over, a sly smile on his lips. ¡°Good evening, gorgeous.¡±


    ¡°Evening,¡± I say.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°What brings you here tonight?¡±


    ¡°I just wanted a quiet drink,¡± I say, a slight emphasis on the word quiet.


    His gaze drops from my eyes to my modest cleavage. ¡°Same here. Let¡¯s have a drink together.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, but I¡¯m here more for the ambiance than for conversation.¡±


    ¡°Now, nobodyes to a bar to be alone.¡± He leans in closer and I¡¯m hit by too strong cologne and far too much whiskey on his breath. This man is keeping it together outwardly, but judging by his bloodshot eyes, he is well past simple tipsiness.


    ¡°Well, I did, so if you¡¯ll excuse me¡­¡±


    I try to slip off of the barstool, but his hand on my bare shoulder holds me back. ¡°Don¡¯t be so quick to leave.¡±


    ¡°Please take your hand off me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see-¡±


    A deep voice drowns out whatever protest he was offering. ¡°Thedy made herself very clear. Take your hand off her.¡±


    The drunken man looks up at the stranger by my side-we both do-and shrinks back. ¡°Ah. I apologize.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve had too much to drink,¡± the tall stranger says. ¡°I suggest you retire for the evening, but if not, at least leave thedy alone.¡±


    The drunken man¡¯s eyes narrow, but he nods. ¡°Didn¡¯t know she was taken. Sorry.¡± He ambles off, and I gaze in a sort of dazed horror at the stranger in front of me.


    He leans casually against the bar, the top of his expensive shirt unbuttoned, the look in his eyes somehow bored and interested at the same time.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    That stupid phrasees to mind, a jawline that could cut ss. It never made any sense to me, but seeing him now, it finally does.


    His features are precise, a five-o¡¯clock shadow darkening his skin. Thick brown hair falls in waves across his forehead-the kind any woman would want to run her hands through. Broad shoulders and an expensive suit. He looks ruggedly wealthy, as opposed to polished rich, which strikes me as an important distinction.


    I should write this down, I think weakly. Or take a picture.


    His eyes grow concerned. ¡°Miss? Are you sure you¡¯re all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°It was my pleasure.¡±


    An unpleasant thought hits me, and dazzled as I am, it spills right out. ¡°He left because he thought we were a couple, and not because I said I wasn¡¯t interested.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably true.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how I feel about that.¡±


    ¡°Bad, I imagine,¡± the demigod says. ¡°He should¡¯ve respected your no.¡±


    ¡°He should¡¯ve.¡±


    ¡°What are you drinking?¡±


    I blink down at my ss. ¡°An Old-Fashioned.¡±


    ¡°And you hate it,¡± he says, quirking an eyebrow.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do. I¡¯ve been sitting right there¡±-he points to a secluded area of the bar-¡°and you¡¯ve frowned every time you¡¯ve taken a sip.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been watching me?¡±


    ¡°I like to people-watch.¡± He tilts his head to the side, giving me a better view of the sharp cut of his cheekbones. ¡°As do you, I think. That¡¯s what you¡¯ve been doing here tonight, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say weakly.


    ¡°So? What have you concluded?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 2

    ¡°About our fellow patrons?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He waves the bartender over. ¡°I¡¯ll have a whiskey neat. And thedy would like¡­¡±


    I¡¯m given a second chance, and I¡¯m not going to hesitate this time. ¡°A porn star martini,¡± I say. ¡°With lots and lots of passionfruit.¡±


    The stranger shoots me a crooked grin. ¡°Interesting choice.¡±


    ¡°The drink tastes good,¡± I say defensively, ¡°despite the name.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Or perhaps because of it?¡±


    To my mortification, a blush rises to my cheeks. I clear my throat and nod to the other side of the bar. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about the couple in the back¡­ They¡¯re clearly here for a special asion. Have you figured out what it is?¡±


    He nces over to the couple. They¡¯re middle-aged, nicely dressed, but look a little out of ce. The man shoots a nervous nce at the waiter.


    ¡°A proposal?¡±


    My handsome stranger shakes his head and leans in closer. The smell of cologne, faint and masculine, hits me. ¡°It¡¯s his first time having an affair, I bet.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± I say. ¡°If I was reprimanded for ordering a porn star martini, what does this say about you?¡±


    His crooked smile is back. ¡°Noted. Let¡¯s go with a proposal instead. When in doubt, hope for a happy ending.¡±This content is ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I crane my neck. ¡°I hope we¡¯ll get to see it, if it happens.¡±


    He turns to me fully, eyes narrowing, like he¡¯s trying to figure me out. ¡°Now, I¡¯ve been watching you, but you¡¯re harder to crack. From the way you¡¯ve been frowning at your phone, you must be having the world¡¯s most frustrating text conversation. Are you waiting for someone?¡±


    I smile at that. ¡°No, I¡¯ve been trying to write.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a writer?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. Or I¡¯m trying to be. But this man-older than me and probably wildly sessful-doesn¡¯t need to know that I¡¯m a lowly bookstore clerk with nothing but a half-finished manuscript to my name.


    ¡°Would I have read anything you¡¯ve written?¡±


    I smile into my drink. ¡°Probably not, no.¡±


    Not unless he¡¯d been an avid reader of my college newspaper when I¡¯d attended. I¡¯d written some thrilling pieces about the cafeteria¡¯sck of vegetarian options.


    Our drinks arrive and he nods a thank-you to the bartender. His, imposing and worldly. Mine, fruity and orange. I take a sip.


    ¡°Better?¡±


    ¡°Much. Howe you¡¯ve been watching me?¡±


    ¡°I told you. I like to people-watch.¡±


    The bartender brings over the bill, and the handsome stranger settles it with a wave of his hand. ¡°It¡¯s on me,¡± he says.


    The bartender gives a deep nod. ¡°Of course, sir.¡±


    I frown. ¡°I¡¯d like to pay for my drink.¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± he says. ¡°You didn¡¯t like the first one, so you shouldn¡¯t have to pay for your recement. It¡¯s rule one of good service.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s for the bar to fix, not you. You¡¯re not the bar owner now, are you?¡±


    Something glitters dangerously in his eyes. ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± I cross my legs, conscious of how the fabric rides up, and try to still the quick beating of my heart. Talking to ridiculously good-looking men at expensive bars is wildly unfamiliar to me. This will make for such good writing material! ¡°Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed what you¡¯re doing, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± His crooked smile is back. ¡°And what am I doing?¡±


    ¡°You came over to stop a man from buying me a drink, to then insist you buy me a drink instead.¡±


    He runs a hand over his jaw. ¡°It¡¯s that obvious, is it?¡±


    ¡°Fairly, yes.¡±


    ¡°Subtlety has never been my strong suit, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Is that the true reason you¡¯re here tonight? Not to people-watch, but to pick someone up?¡±


    Heughs then, and the sound is magnificent, rich and strong and alluring. It rolls over my skin like a warm breeze. ¡°Wow, you don¡¯t pull any punches, do you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m right?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly, no. I certainly wasn¡¯t nning to. But the more you talk, the more I feel like going down that route, yes.¡±


    Nerves dance in my stomach, but I¡¯m not going to let this chance slip out of my fingers. So I hold out my hand. ¡°In that case, I think a proper introduction is in order. My name is Skye.¡±


    ¡°Skye?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, and have to stop from shuddering in pleasure when his warm hand closes around mine. He shakes it once, twice, three times¡­ ¡°My mom was in her bohemian phase when she had me. The phase ended, but I remained.¡±


    His smile is back. ¡°It¡¯s unique, just like a woman sitting at a bar alone to write.¡±


    ¡°Well, said woman would like to know your name.¡±


    His hand slips from mine with the soft caress of skin against skin. ¡°Cole,¡± he says. ¡°And since you didn¡¯t add yourst name, I¡¯ll skip mine.¡±


    I take another sip of my drink. Liquid courage, Skye. ¡°Isn¡¯t that part of this kind of encounter? Anonymity?¡±


    His eyebrows rise again. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know. I don¡¯t usually talk to women at hotel bars.¡±


    ¡°Somehow, I doubt that.¡±


    He takes a sip of his drink, the knuckle-length whiskey decreasing by a third. ¡°I had my ideas about you, just from watching you. Judging by yourment, I¡¯m guessing you have some about me.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 3

    ¡°Assumptions?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯re a self-described people-watcher, after all. Soy it on me.¡± He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. Broad shoulders stretch out his suit.


    This conversation feels like a tightrope, where I need to ce my feet just right to avoid tipping too far to one side or the other. ¡°Well, judging from the cut of your suit and the watch at your wrist, I¡¯d assume you¡¯re well-off. If you¡¯re here alone, like me, and nursing a whiskey¡­ well, I¡¯d guess you were brooding.¡±


    ¡°Brooding?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, ignoring the amusement in his eyes. ¡°Some old wound is eating at you.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what it can be.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it can be anything at all. You¡¯re not divorced, are you? A veteran? An orphan?¡±


    ¡°No, no, and no. But good guesses. I¡¯m enjoying this game. It¡¯s not often I get the chance to hear what a beautiful woman thinks when she sees me.¡±


    Beautiful? I take another sip of my drink to gather my scattered wits, and watch as the amusement in his eyes grows. Oh, he knows what an effect he has on me.


    ¡°Go on,¡± he prompts.


    ¡°Well¡­ the bartender seemed to know you. So I guess you¡¯re a regr here.¡±


    He tips his head. ¡°It¡¯s not my first time at this hotel, you¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re here on a business trip?¡±


    ¡°Of a sort.¡±


    I run my fingers along the edge of the bar. ¡°See? You like the vagueness, just like I like the anonymity.¡±


    If I told him myst name, he could google me to find out just how big of a writer I was, and the only thing that would show up was my most widely circted article, college student finds hair in the cafeteria food. If I could clear that from the Google archives, I would.


    ¡°I suppose I do, yes.¡±


    ¡°And judging from your¡­ well.¡± I wave a hand over his features. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re very used to chatting to women in ces like this.¡±


    ¡°Mmm. I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re referring to, but what I said was true. I don¡¯t often talk to women in hotel bars. If they¡¯re all like you, I¡¯ve clearly been missing out, though.¡±


    That¡¯s the secondpliment in only a few minutes. I take another sip of my drink. Is this happening? Am I being picked up?


    ¡°You¡¯re staying here?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    I make a humming sound, thoughts in my head running wild with possibilities. It¡¯s alreadyte. If he asks¡­ what should I do?


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking too far ahead. I can see it.¡± Cole nods at my drink. ¡°Have another sip. We¡¯re just having a conversation.¡±


    ¡°Trying to get me drunk?¡±


    ¡°No, but I think you need a bit of liquid courage after having asked me that.¡± Something glitters in his eyes again, and it steadies me. He¡¯s enjoying this. I¡¯m enjoying this, more than I have in a long, long time. I¡¯ve so rarely been wild. The good daughter, the good sister, the good employee. asionally, the good girlfriend.


    ¡°Maybe I do,¡± I say in a low voice. I feel like I¡¯ve donned a different role here tonight. ying a woman who¡¯s pursued and used to it. A woman who flirts effortlessly with handsome men at bars. A woman who dares.


    We talk until the bar is near closing about anything and everything, except ourselves, respecting the boundaries of anonymity and vagueness we¡¯ve established. We debate the best drink on the menu. Whether the blonde woman with the olives is genuinely enjoying herself or merely pretending to. I make a game out of guessing what he works with, and it quickly turns flirtatious. He diverts all my suggestions with a crooked smile, with the exception of astronaut. That one he dismisses with augh.


    Guest after guest leaves, and we watch as the middle-aged couple filter out hand-in-hand.


    ¡°No proposal,¡± I say.


    ¡°No betrayal, either.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still wondering if it¡¯s concerning that your mind went straight there.¡±


    Heughs again and holds up ringless fingers. ¡°I¡¯m not married, and I¡¯m not in a rtionship.¡±


    ¡°Phew,¡± I say. ¡°What a relief.¡±


    ¡°And neither are you.¡± He nods to my hand, and I nce down myself, to find my fingers familiarly empty.


    ¡°No. No, very much not.¡±


    He raises an eyebrow. ¡°Very much not? How interesting.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Most people are either married or they¡¯re not. It¡¯s not really measured on a sliding scale.¡± His smile turns teasing. ¡°I take it you¡¯ve been single for a while, then?¡±


    I bury my face in my hands, giving an exaggerated groan, and heughs again. A warm handnds on my bare arm. ¡°Come now, that¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of.¡±This content is ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I peek up at him through myshes. ¡°I didn¡¯t think so either, but if you can tell by just a nce¡­¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Well, maybe I saw what I wanted to see.¡± His thumb moves over my bare skin, sending little electric currents over my flesh. I feel too hot, like I¡¯ve been running or tanning, caught in the depth of his gaze. And all the while his thumb keeps moving, rough skin smoothing over my arm.


    ¡°I get that,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°I wanted you to be single too.¡±


    His breath is a hot exhale. ¡°Well, look at that. We¡¯re both conveniently free of any attachments.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re both in this big, nice hotel, too.¡±


    ¡°Fancy that,¡± he says, smiling crookedly again. Can I do this?


    I¡¯m saved from answering by the approaching bartender. He gives Cole an apologetic nce. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡± Cole nods at the bartender and stands, knocking back thest of his whiskey. ¡°Thanks for letting us stayter.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 4

    ¡°Not a problem.¡±


    I stand on shaky legs myself, noticing for the first time how much taller Cole is than myself. And the cut of his suit, the lean physique, the powerful shoulders¡­ What have I gotten myself into?


    ¡°What do we do now?¡± I ask.


    He shoots me an amused nce. ¡°Well, that depends on you.¡±


    ¡°On me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I have a room here. If you want to continue our conversation, I¡¯d be happy to. Besides, I have a minibar. I could always mix you another Old-Fashioned if you¡¯re feeling thirsty.¡±


    It¡¯s a straightforward offer disguised as a joke. Iugh, averting my gaze, and use the pause as a chance to think. Do I dare?


    His next words seal it for me. ¡°I¡¯m not the asshole you talked to earlier. If you want to leave at any point, you¡¯re very wee to. If you want us to talk the night away, you say so.¡± His lips curl into a smile that makes heat pool in my stomach. ¡°Although, I have to say, you don¡¯t seem to have a problem with speaking your mind.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± I reach for his hand and it wraps strongly around mine. His skin is dry and warm and pleasantly rough. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    Four weekster¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s like we¡¯re on death row,¡± Karli says. ¡°We¡¯re just sitting here, waiting for it to happen. Soon we¡¯ll even have a date for the demolition.¡±


    I climb down the little stedder and nce over at where she¡¯s standing by the till. Her shoulders are slumped, eyes downcast, looking the way I feel inside. Bleak and hopeless.


    ¡°I still can¡¯t ept it,¡± I say.


    ¡°I appreciate your optimism, Skye, I really do¡­ but the letters have made it pretty clear.¡±


    ¡°Miracles happen.¡±


    She smiles at me, but it¡¯s the fond smile of someone indulging a child. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    I move the stedder from the H-L section to L-P. This bookstore is my life. It¡¯s where I spent most of my afternoons after school growing up, and it¡¯s where I had my first job. First sorting books, at sixteen, before I graduated to handling payment.


    And it¡¯s being torn down so someone can build a hotel?


    As if Seattle needs another sky-high development for the rich and mighty. This bookstore has been here for decades.


    Karli and I had both cried when we received the first letter. The bookstore was onnd rented from the city, and they¡¯d sold the entire lot to Porter Development.


    Then I¡¯d gotten angry. In the storage room, I¡¯d printed the logo of Porter Development and pinned it to an old dartboard. When I first handed Karli a handful of darts, she¡¯d looked at me like I was crazy.


    ¡°You did this?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s what people do in movies, so there must be some truth to it. Go ahead and throw?¡± She¡¯d shaken her head at me, but we¡¯d both had our turn, and in the end we¡¯d felt a tiny bit better to see the slick logo skewered by darts.


    It¡¯s midday, and the bookstore is empty, like it is most days. And most evenings, if I¡¯m being painfully honest with myself.


    Karli calls out again. ¡°Did you shelve the delivery of new contemporary romances?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± I call back. ¡°And I saw your choice for ¡®rmended by the bookstore¡¯!¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°Did you see how the story started? The main characters have a super-steamy one-night stand¡­¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear you!¡±


    ¡°Liar!¡±


    I roll my eyes and keep shelving the fantasy tomes. Ever since I told Karli about the night at the hotel with Cole, she¡¯s been finding ways to bring it up.Ccontent ? exclusive by N?/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    You end early tonight, she¡¯ll quip. Maybe you should go back to the Legacy?


    I shouldn¡¯t have told her about him-but then, I hadn¡¯t been able to stop thinking about him, and eventually all the details spilled out of me on their own ord.


    His strong hands. The crooked smile. The banter, the back-and-forth, theughter. He¡¯d been far, far out of my league, but for one night, we¡¯d been equals.


    The entire night felt like it belonged to someone else, to a girl in one of those romance books, rather than me, Skye Hond. Aspiring (read: failed) writer. Bookstore clerk (read: soon unemployed). Twenty-five years old, renting a too-small apartment, and without a date in months.


    The Skye I¡¯d been with Cole was someone else. She was witty and brave. She said things like you¡¯re hitting on me without batting an eye. And she said yes when attractive, mysterious men invited her to their hotel rooms.


    My cheeks me as I think about it, but I don¡¯t stop the train of thought. Thinking about that night has been all that¡¯s kept me going since we heard about the bookstore¡¯s fate.


    We¡¯d talked for an hour on his bed before he even touched me, and when he did, to smooth my hair back behind my ear, I¡¯d shivered from anticipation and excitement.


    ¡°You¡¯re unexpected,¡± he¡¯d said darkly. ¡°I had no idea someone like you would be here tonight.¡±


    I¡¯d smiled. ¡°Are you ever going to kiss me?¡±


    And then he did, and showed me exactly why I shouldn¡¯t have been nervous about this. It was sex, but with a capital S, the kind I¡¯d always wanted but never really had. There was no fumbling or awkwardness. He told me exactly what he wanted from me, and asked me what I liked in return.


    And then he gave it to me.


    I pick up another stack of fantasy epics and shelve them on autopilot, my mind stuck on the several orgasms he gave me. How? I¡¯d been in a two-year rtionship in college and I¡¯d only climaxed twice with the guy. Cole had managed it in one night.


    It had been deep, and hard, and animalistic, his body moving over mine like he needed me more than life itself. Three times we did it, his body relentless, before both of us passed out cold in his giant hotel bed.


    ¡°You¡¯re fantastic,¡± he¡¯d murmured after thest time, his arm slung casually over my naked waist. ¡°Am I going to be in one of your books now?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I¡¯d said, reaching out to tentatively run a hand through his thick brown hair. ¡°Although I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d do you justice.¡±


    But he was already asleep, and I had followed him soon thereafter.


    Perfection-it had been perfection.


    And since I¡¯d been unable to keep my excitement to myself and told Karli, she brought it up all the time. Nearly every day for four weeks I¡¯d heard about it. Why would today be any different?


    ¡°I just can¡¯t believe you didn¡¯t give him your number,¡± she says over lunch. We should take them in shifts, but there are no customers, so we eat our sushi by the checkout counter together.


    ¡°It would have spoiled it.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 5

    ¡°No, it could have been the start of something.¡±


    ¡°A man like that? No, he wouldn¡¯t have been interested in me long term. I basically just nipped it in the bud.¡± I snap my chopsticks together to illustrate, defending my decision for the hundred-millionth time. It doesn¡¯t matter that I still wonder, at night, if I¡¯d made the right call.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡°No, but it¡¯s a pretty good wager. What if I gave him my number and he never called?¡± I can¡¯t exin it to Karli, but I know it would have crushed me. To spend a night like that with someone and then have them reject you, to say thanks, but no thanks.


    ¡°Remind me what you wrote on the napkin again?¡±


    ¡°Karli, you don¡¯t need reminding. You know.¡±


    Sheughs, in that high-pitched way of hers, and pushes her sses back into ce. ¡°Yes, but I want to hear you say it. I¡¯m living vicariously through you here. Would you deny me that? After eight long years of friendship?¡±


    I roll my eyes at her extra-ness, but I oblige. ¡°I wrote, Thanks forst night, stud. God, even just saying that makes me cringe!¡±


    She chuckles. ¡°It¡¯s such a clich¨¦.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, that¡¯s me, a walking, talking clich¨¦.¡±


    ¡°And you left while he was still asleep. I wonder what he thought. Having someone wham-bam-and-thank-you-ma¡¯am him.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s probably used to it. Trust me, with skills like his, he has a lot of sex.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    She hands me her spare wasabi, knowing I love it. ¡°Maybe. Or you could¡¯ve had the hottest friends-with-benefits situation ever known to man. Imagine how much inspiration that would give to your book.¡±


    I grin at her. ¡°It would be more like a distraction.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your word count now?¡±


    ¡°Thirty-two thousand. But I think I¡¯ll have to rewrite the entire chapter I just finished. My main character¡¯s actions just don¡¯t make sense to me.¡±


    Karli picks up another piece of sushi, eyes expectant. ¡°Tell me why. Let¡¯s brainstorm it out.¡±


    I love that she¡¯s so invested in my stories, that she always has been, ever since I started working here. Our love of books is one of many things we share inmon. With only ten years between us, Karli and I are more like friends than co-workers. She inherited the bookstore after Eleanor died, and employed me full-time after I finished college. For that alone, I owe her everything.


    I jump into my description and she listens, interjecting withments and jokes. It¡¯s in moments like this that it¡¯s easy to forget this bookstore-with its nooks and crannies and dusty attic, with the mismatched bookshelves and little reading lights-won¡¯t be here in two months¡¯ time.


    My life changes again after lunch. In one moment I¡¯m sorting through modern American poetry, minding my own business, and in the next I¡¯m a quivering mess of nerves.


    Five minutes before it all goes down, I pick up a small book of short poems. ¡°You¡¯re a brilliant little book,¡± I tell it. ¡°But you¡¯re very difficult to sell.¡±


    It doesn¡¯t say anything back, and I put it down with a sigh. We have over fifty of these. There¡¯s so much inventory to go through before we have to close.


    The bell by the door jingles. A customer!


    ¡°Skye, I¡¯m in the back!¡± Karli calls.


    ¡°I¡¯m on it!¡± I call, already putting back the poetry book.


    I love customers. I love guessing what book they might like, what they¡¯re here for, judging by their clothes, their ent, their reading preferences. Sometimes I¡¯m spot-on, and sometimes they surprise me-a dignified olddy who wants to buy thetest horror novel. A man in a suit asking for a self-help book on happiness. Those are my favorite customers, the ones who teach me about the perils of jumping to conclusions.


    I weave through the fantasy section and cut between the recipe shelves. A man is standing with his back to me, looking at the titles on our Bookstore Rmends shelf. Karli and I curate it monthly, often over a bottle of wine, and we have a lot of fun doing it.


    He¡¯s tall. That¡¯s my first impression, swiftly followed by the fact that he¡¯s in a suit. Thick brown hair curls at the nape of his neck, just over his shirt cor. My instinct says that he¡¯s here to buy a book for someone else. A birthday gift, or to celebrate an anniversary.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I say. ¡°Are you looking for anything in particr? I¡¯d be happy to help.¡±


    He turns.


    And the ground feels like it¡¯s giving out beneath me.


    Four weeks might have passed, and we¡¯re in a well-lit store and not a swanky hotel bar, but he¡¯s no less striking in daylight. The chiseled jaw, the same five-o¡¯clock shadow. Thick hair and piercing eyes that don¡¯t look the least bit surprised.


    ¡°Skye,¡± he says.


    I open my mouth but close it again, my mind running empty. The ability to speak has left me altogether. He waits, eyes imploring, probably wondering if I¡¯ve be mute.


    ¡°Umm. Hi,¡± I finally manage.


    Brilliant. Four years of studying English Literature, and that¡¯s my winning take.


    ¡°Do you work here?¡±


    Can I y it off as if I don¡¯t? I¡¯m supposed to be an award-winning writer in his mind, who sits at expensive hotel bars and writes clich¨¦d goodbyes on napkins.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see you again,¡± I say stupidly. I¡¯m in the same jeans as always, wearing a T-shirt with ¡°Between the Pages¡± zoned on the front. Inparison, he looks magnificent, the cut of his suit highlighting the width of his shoulders.


    His voice is dry. ¡°No, clearly, since you snuck out during the night.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Erm, no hard feelings?¡±


    He shakes his head, but it¡¯s more in resignation than negation. ¡°I knew you were too good to be true.¡±


    Standing there in my shabby outfit and my low ponytail, I know I¡¯m definitely confirming that fact. ¡°Yes. Sorry.¡±


    He starts to walk down the aisle, ncing at shelves as we pass them. I follow him in a daze. The night we spent together was magical, and this is mundane. It¡¯s my ce of work. The two don¡¯t mix, and my brain is trying and failing to handle this surprise visit.


    ¡°Tell me about this bookstore. Between the Pages, right?¡±


    Of all the things to ask¡­ ¡°Yes. We cover all the major genres and stock newer releases. We stock all the major ssics, too. You¡¯ll find them all here, Proust, Austen, Machiavelli.¡± I wet my lips. ¡°Homer.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± He plucks a book from a shelf, flipping it over to read the back. I recognize it-it¡¯s a decent thriller, but I could rmend a better one. ¡°So,¡± he says. ¡°What was your game, that night at the bar?¡±


    ¡°My game?¡±


    He slides the book back into ce. ¡°Did you need a night like that for inspiration? To clear up some writer¡¯s block?¡±


    My heart is firing at full speed in my chest. ¡°You¡¯re asking if you were research?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 6

    He smiles, a crooked thing that shows me just how devastatingly handsome he is. ¡°If I was, I certainly don¡¯t mind. But I think I made that pretty clear at the time.¡±


    A flush creeps up my cheeks. Oh, he had. ¡°You were unexpected.¡±


    ¡°Likewise. And I have to say, I¡¯ve never been referred to as a stud before.¡±


    My flush darkens. ¡°Oh, that was¡­ it seemed appropriate at the moment.¡±


    He nods. ¡°But not now?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    His grin is back. ¡°So I¡¯ve been told.¡±


    I nce from him to the bookcase behind him, my suspicions returning. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°I came to buy a book.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I am, in fact, literate.¡±


    I lean against the shelf and try to ignore the fact that he¡¯s seen me naked, that I know the groan he makes when he loses himself. ¡°Well, in that case, I¡¯m here to help. What are you looking for?¡±


    He smiles knowingly, aware of the bluff I¡¯m trying to call. ¡°I want something that¡¯ll make my heart race.¡±


    ¡°Horror?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°Something else.¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°A thriller, perhaps? I have one I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll love.¡±


    He sweeps out his arm. ¡°After you, Skye.¡±


    He follows me to the other side of the store, footsteps echoing mine. He might have asked for a book that would set his heart ame, but mine¡¯s the one that¡¯s racing.


    ¡°It should be here¡­¡± I murmur, running my finger along the length of spines until I find the one I need.ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    I hold it up to him.


    His gaze flickers from the cover to me, wide and aware. Then he chuckles softly. ¡°Well, well,¡± he says, reaching out to take it from me.


    ¡°It¡¯s a thriller,¡± I say.


    ¡°I can see that.¡± His eyes scan the back, and I know what he¡¯s finding there. A description of a billionaire hero running rampant. Murders in penthouses, secrets hidden beneath silk and money, all to conceal a drug ring.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± he says, voice thick with amusement. ¡°Rmended to me, you say?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, wondering if I took the joke too far, ¡°it is a genuinely good book as well.¡±


    He tucks the book under his arm and looks around, eyes coasting across shelves of book, the little old armchair in the corner. ¡°This is a nice ce. Has a lot of old-world charm.¡±


    ¡°I think so too,¡± I say. ¡°But it¡¯s closing.¡±


    ¡°Yes. A development firm is nning to build yet another hotel here, and the city agreed. We have two months to close shop.¡±


    ¡°A hotel?¡±


    ¡°Yes, like the one we met in, I guess. Thepany who¡¯s developing it has that air, you know?¡±


    ¡°What air?¡±


    ¡°A hotel bar kind of air.¡± My hands are gesturing, trying to paint a picture. It¡¯s hard to describe a feeling. ¡°All swanky hotel music and beige furniture. Probably run by some old rich guy who has no need at all for more money, or more hotels, or more influence. So this ce is going, lost forever to posterity.¡± My tone is light, but the idea makes my throat clench. For years, this store was my sce, and Karli¡¯s grandmother-the original owner-was a light in the dark.


    Cole¡¯s eyes are inscrutable. ¡°That soundsplicated.¡±


    ¡°Pretty straightforward actually. Out with the old and in with the new.¡± I turn away from him before I make aplete fool of myself by tearing up. ¡°Would you like your book gift-wrapped?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for you?¡±


    He smiles at my surprise. ¡°I wasn¡¯t joking earlier, you know. I am literate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m d our school system didn¡¯t fail you. But you don¡¯t strike me as¡­ ah.¡±


    ¡°The reading type?¡±


    A blush creeps up my neck. ¡°Well¡­ yes, I suppose. I just wouldn¡¯t think you have a lot of free time on your hands.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. But sometimes you have to make time, especially for the things that matter.¡±


    It¡¯s the first serious thing he¡¯s said to me today, and I find myself nodding, unable to think of another wittyeback. What does he do for a living? He never mentioned that night at the hotel, and I never asked. We¡¯d promised each other anonymity. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I say, my eyes dancing over his suit, his tie, the cuff links.


    His voice is amused. ¡°Are you trying to use your people-reading skills on me again?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a force of habit.¡±


    ¡°Likewise,¡± he says, ¡°although I think I got you all wrong that first night.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± My heart stutters in my chest at those final words. First night.


    He leans against a bookshelf, too big for this store, for me, for this world. ¡°Oh yes. I thought you did that sort of thing all the time.¡±


    ¡°That sort of thing?¡±


    ¡°Hot sex with aplete stranger,¡± he says. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend to have forgotten that part.¡±


    My cheeks are on fire, but I force myself to keep his gaze. Please, Karli, stay in the storage room.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 7

    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten,¡± I say. ¡°It would be difficult to, I admit.¡±


    ¡°You enjoyed yourself?¡±


    Okay, now I have to break eye contact. ¡°You know I did.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± His eyes darken. ¡°After I saw that offensive note you left me on the dresser, I wondered if I had underperformed.¡±


    The idea that he could think what he did to me an underperformance feels ridiculous. There¡¯s nothing remotely vulnerable in his voice, nor his face, his jaw set confidently. I narrow my eyes at him.


    ¡°You know, fishing for praise is very unbing.¡±


    Heughs, and as he does, I catch a hint of a dimple in his left cheek. I hadn¡¯t seen that in the darkness when we first met.


    ¡°All right. You might be less confident than you pretended that night in the hotel bar, but you¡¯re just as quick to take me to task.¡±


    ¡°You think it was a pretense?¡±


    He shakes his head at me, still smiling. ¡°I think you wanted to try on a different woman¡¯s clothing for the night. I¡¯m d I was avable for your fantasy.¡±


    My throat feels desert-dry. ¡°Me too,¡± I say weakly. ¡°And regarding the note¡­¡±


    This is my chance. My chance to change things, to make amends, to maybe get another shot at seeing him. The things he could do¡­ I haven¡¯t stopped thinking about him for weeks.


    There¡¯s a smile on his lips. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Maybe I was too quick in writing it.¡±


    ¡°Mmm. Maybe you were.¡± He ambles over to the counter, pushing the book and a twentyzily over to the other side. ¡°And if you¡¯d had more time, what would you have added?¡±


    Damn it, he¡¯s going to make me say it. ¡°A few digits, perhaps.¡±


    ¡°Ten, I hope.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I breathe.


    ¡°Good.¡± He leans in over the counter, his face so close to mine, a ghost of his hot breath against my skin. My body tenses, remembering his scent, the nearness, how his lips feel on mine. ¡°I want you to remember that.¡±


    I blink my eyes open to see him smiling crookedly, standing straight once more. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll find out.¡± He steps back, toward the door, his book in hand. ¡°And, Skye?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I would have called you. I want you to remember that, too.¡±


    And then he¡¯s gone, as swiftly as he came, the handsome suit-d stranger.


    ¡°Tell me again where you guys talked,¡± Karli demands.


    Iugh. ¡°All right, well, he came in through the front door. And then he walked down this aisle¡­ before turning here. We stopped at this section for a bit-he took out The Search for Belle-and then we went to the counter, where he paid. Detailed enough?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She gives a dramatic sigh. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I missed the chance to see Mystery Man.¡±


    ¡°Bad luck,¡± I say, though I¡¯m secretly d she was in the storage room, given our conversation.


    ¡°And I can¡¯t even search him, because you still don¡¯t know hisst name. Honestly, Skye, do you know anything about getting a date?¡±


    I hop up on the stool behind the counter. ¡°You¡¯ve been happily married to John for eleven years. Thendscape has changed. The dating scene is a mess now.¡±


    She gives me a pointed look. ¡°Exchangingst names is still customary. I don¡¯t need to keep up with the trends to know that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll see him again. And look at this-he¡¯s already distracted us from our work! Again!¡± I pick up my pen and continue filling in the words on the little note. Closing in two months. Twenty percent off your purchase if you buy three books or more!


    ¡°Yes,¡± Karli says dryly. ¡°God forbid you¡¯re distracted while writing.¡±


    ¡°My penmanship could be what saves us.¡±


    ¡°God help us all if that¡¯s what it takes,¡± she says, but her voice is amused. Since we got the news about demolition, Karli has handled it a lot better than me, despite the bookshop being hers. Growing up, I know it had it been as much her salvation as it had been mine. But Karli has a husband now, two kids, and an interest in baking she dreams of one day transforming into a business.This content is ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I got an email today,¡± she says. ¡°And before you go ballistic-don¡¯t look at me like that, I know you will, Skye-I didn¡¯t tell you right away because I wanted to think it through.¡±


    I put down my ck sharpie. ¡°What did it say?¡±


    ¡°It was from Porter Development. They¡¯ve requested a meeting directly with me.¡±


    ¡°A meeting?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She pushes her sses back. ¡°I don¡¯t know what they want. In the email, they only said they wanted to discuss ¡®our mutual future.''¡±


    ¡°Our mutual future? But ours is being sacrificed for theirs.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s odd.¡± Karli leans against the register, a furrow in her brow. ¡°I wanted to ask if you¡¯lle with me to the meeting.¡±


    ¡°Of course I will, if you¡¯ll have me. You don¡¯t even have to ask.¡±


    Her smile turns wry. ¡°But we¡¯ll have to be civil.¡±


    I know she¡¯s saying we, but what she¡¯s really saying is that I have to be civil. ¡°I will be on my very best behavior, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now, these boxes won¡¯t unpack themselves. Why don¡¯t we get this done, and you can tell me what you did this past weekend. Did you babysit Timmy again? Eat dinner with I? Go out to a hotel bar and meet a handsome stranger? Tell me anything that¡¯s not rted to diapers or books, please. I need to live vicariously through you.¡±


    I smile at her, my co-worker in name but so much more than that, and dive straight into the most entertaining re-telling of my boring weekend that I can manage.


    I gloss over the fact that I spent nearly half a day on the inte, sorting through the search results of Cole and Seattle. He was like a needle in a haystack.


    The day of the meeting with Porter Development, I put on my most professional blouse and a pencil skirt, hidden in the back of my closet. When I arrive at Between the Pages, she¡¯s dressed in a mirrored version.


    She snorts. ¡°Our armor, huh?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 8

    ¡°Anything to look like we know how to run a business.¡± I reach for the closed sign and flip it in the window. It¡¯s just the two of us, and no one to watch the shop while we¡¯re out. Sadly, there¡¯s never been enough money to hire anyone else. Even sadder is my sneaky suspicion that we won¡¯t miss a single customer for the two hours or so we¡¯ll be gone. Business hasn¡¯t exactly been boomingtely.


    Karli reaches for the books behind the register. I know what they contain-all our financial information, our numbers, our nonexistent profit margin. She shoves it into her bag and shoots me a smile that¡¯s braver than I feel.


    ¡°Well, then. We¡¯re heading into the belly of the whale, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°We sure are,¡± I say. ¡°But we¡¯re a force to be reckoned with, too. I promised I would be civil-but I¡¯ll fight, Karli.¡±


    Her smile goes from brave to determined. ¡°Why do you think I asked you to join?¡±


    We drive in silence through Seattle, two-story buildings disappearing behind us in favor of brutal skyscrapers and harsh angles. Men in suits on the streets, women in heels, quaint coffee shops reced by the big chains. Karli pulls into a parking garage close to Porter Development, at least ording to the GPS on my phone, but we still have to hurry the two-block walk.


    Porter Development is located inside a massive building-tall, imposing, all ss. Someone pushes past us with an irritated sigh as we stand mid-sidewalk and stare.


    ¡°Well,¡± Karli says faintly, ¡°it¡¯s not so much a whale as a¡­¡±


    ¡°A giant monument to corporate greed?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That.¡±


    I thread my arm under hers and we head into the lobby. ¡°We can do this. You¡¯re a business owner, Karli. And small business owners are the backbone of the American economy.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t intimidate us. We spend all our days surrounded by books! We¡¯re infinitely better then whateverwyer or developer we¡¯re meeting with.¡±


    ¡°Bryan Hoffman,¡± she says. ¡°And they spend their days surrounded by stacks of money. But you¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s kick some ass.¡±


    ¡°Civilly,¡± she says with a smile.


    ¡°Of course. It¡¯ll be the politest of ass-kickings.¡±


    We sign in with the lobbyist, and not five minutester we¡¯re escorted through security gates and a badge-required elevator.


    Karli and I stand side-by-side as the elevator shoots up towards its fateful destination. An awful tune starts to y, and I make a show of shaking my head at Karli in disapproval behind the back of our escort. The elevator music is terrible.


    She has to bite her lip to stop from chuckling. For a moment, at least, I¡¯ve been silly enough to take her mind off our impending doom.


    We¡¯re shown into an all-white meeting room. Light floods through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a view of the opposite skyscraper too close forfort.


    ¡°Mr. Hoffman will be with you soon,¡± the chirpy assistant tells us. ¡°Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea or coffee?¡±


    ¡°Some water, please.¡±


    ¡°Coming right up!¡±


    He closes the ss door behind him and Karli and I are left in tense, expectant silence. ¡°Well,¡± she says. ¡°At least they gave us a good tour of the building. Do you think the new hotel will look like this?¡±


    I tap my pen against the notebook in agitation. ¡°I hope not. Our area doesn¡¯t need this kind of showboating.¡±


    Voices sound in the corridor, steps approaching.


    ¡°Remember,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Be civil.¡±


    I nod. That¡¯s the third reminder, and I don¡¯t know if I should be offended that she thinks I can¡¯t control myself or grateful that she knows I care so deeply about the bookshop.


    The door opens and a middle-aged man steps through, a small mustache on his upper lip. ¡°Hello,dies. I hope we didn¡¯t keep you waiting too long. I¡¯m Bryan.¡± Behind him steps a woman in heels, a notepad clutched at her side. ¡°This is Tyra, our in-housewyer.¡±


    ¡°A pleasure,¡± she says, shaking both of our hands.


    A man appears in the doorway behind her and the world drops out from beneath my feet. Tall. Brown hair. Familiar eyes, now fixed on me, relentless and unyielding.


    ¡°Cole Porter, owner and CEO of Porter Development,¡± Bryan says. ¡°Now we¡¯re a full house.¡±


    My mouth is open. I don¡¯t know how to close it-or what to say. For the second time in a week, I¡¯ve lost my tongue.


    Cole reaches out and shakes Karli¡¯s hand. ¡°Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Mrs. Stiller.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for inviting us,¡± Karli says, pleasant and professional. Of course, the man in front of her is a stranger. ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I¡¯m more than a little curious as to the reason behind this meeting.¡±


    ¡°Fully understandable. And this is your co-worker?¡± He turns to me, extending arge hand. I stare from it to him before reaching out to shake it in a daze. His skin is warm and dry and my traitorous body responds by shivering. ¡°Cole.¡±


    ¡°Skye,¡± I say faintly. ¡°I work with Karli in the bookstore.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Amusement is faint in his eyes, but it¡¯s there. ¡°d you could join us today.¡±


    Asshole.


    The word rings clear as a bell in my head. Rich, arrogant, prick of a man. He¡¯d known, when he was in the bookstore. He¡¯d known who I was, what the ce was, that he was going to tear it down.


    And he¡¯d kept all of that to himself.


    ¡°Well, shall we?¡± Bryan¡¯s voice is brisk, all business, a world away from the ire rising up through me. ¡°As I¡¯m sure we¡¯re all aware, Between the Pages will be closing on the fourteenth, two months from now. That¡¯s exactly two weeks before our building project goes into development. Now, the legal aspect is all settled. Thend has been purchased and the city has approved the ns.¡±


    Something clenches inside me to hear the bookstore¡¯s fate discussed so cavalierly. A business deal like any other, just dors and cents, but it isn¡¯t, because it¡¯s my life it concerns.


    I re at Cole across the table. It¡¯s a professional re-one might even call it civil-but I know he understands what I¡¯m trying to say. It¡¯s an usation.


    He¡¯d known.


    And worse than that is the knowledge that I¡¯d slept with my worst enemy. The magical night in his hotel room, the one that upied an almost mythical status in my mind, is now tainted.


    Karli clears her throat. ¡°I know all this already, Mr. Hoffman,¡± she says dryly. ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I¡¯ve thought of little else since I received the news. It¡¯s not a business deal to me; it¡¯s the bookstore¡¯s death sentence.¡±Ccontent ? exclusive by N?/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    Bryan has the tact to look contrite. Go Karli! ¡°I¡¯m sure. And we, uhh, that is, we¡¯re sorry for putting you in that position.¡±


    Cole leans forward, bracing his arms on the table and fixing his gaze on Karli. ¡°Porter Development has never sought to push out small business owners or destroy people¡¯s livelihoods. That is not how this business operates, and I consistently try my best to avoid it. In this case, it proved unavoidable. I¡¯m personally sorry about that, Mrs. Stiller.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 9

    Karli gives a stiff nod, staring at him. So am I. The hotel we¡¯d met in must have been his. The hotel bar had been his. How had I missed just how much power he exuded? It¡¯s sucking all the air out of this room.


    Karli doesn¡¯t back down, though her voice softens. ¡°Thank you, sir. It¡¯s nice to hear, but all the good intentions in the world won¡¯t change the facts.¡±


    I have to resist the triumphant smile I want to send his way.


    ¡°Right you are,¡± Cole says. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re proposing apensation scheme. Tyra?¡±


    The blonde opens her binder and pushes another binder across the table at us. ¡°As the owner, Mrs. Stiller, we¡¯llpensate you for the loss of ie for six solid months after the bookstore closes. If you¡¯d like to continue your business elsewhere, our realty team is at your disposal for finding a different locale. The agency fee is waived for life.¡±


    Karli reaches out to take a sip of her water, and I can tell it¡¯s to buy herself some time. These offers are generous-and entirely unexpected.


    Cole¡¯s handsome features are straightced, impassive, professional. He¡¯s certainly managing to be civil. If the fact that I¡¯m here bothers him, he¡¯s not letting on. Maybe he¡¯s used to having women stare at him with murder in their eyes.


    ¡°And I don¡¯t have to provide anything in return?¡± Karli asks, and I want to tell her no, that she¡¯s already giving up her business so they can build their multi-million-dor project.


    Tyra seems to agree, because she shakes her head. ¡°No. This is part of Porter Development¡¯s corporate policy to all of those negatively affected by our developments.¡±


    Cole runs a hand over his square jaw. ¡°As I understand it, the bookstore has been operating for decades. I¡¯m sorry that it muste to an end.¡±


    The bastard. I was the one who told him that-I did. He¡¯d let me stand there and flirt with him about our one-night stand, all the while knowing he was responsible for my soon-to-be unemployed state.


    I see red. ¡°Must it, though?¡±


    Four heads turn to me, all wearing various expressions of incredulity.


    ¡°Skye,¡± Karli whispers, her face letting me know that my tone was neither civil nor professional.


    I cross my arms over my chest and ignore her, my eyes locked on Cole. He leans back in his chair, his gaze daring me to continue. ¡°Miss Hond?¡±


    ¡°The bookstore is old, as you pointed out yourself. We have a small but loyal customer base. It has¡­ old-world charm.¡± I use his own description and watch in satisfaction as his eyes narrow. ¡°It could be incorporated into your hotel.¡±


    Bryan lets out a small chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, miss, but that¡¯s not possible. The ns for the new hotel are already drawn. We have apologized, but we-¡±


    Cole raises a hand to cut him off. ¡°We¡¯ve looked over your financials,¡± he says with infuriating calmness. ¡°The bookstore is not profitable, Miss Hond. It hasn¡¯t been for a long while.¡±


    I can feel a flush rising in my cheeks. It¡¯s been a hard few months, that¡¯s true. ¡°It brings in enough,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s been a staple of themunity for decades. Give us these two months to turn things around.¡±


    Karli is staring at me, her horror evident in my peripheral view, but I can¡¯t look away from Cole. He¡¯s the only one I need to convince. Not Bryan, not Tyra, not the corporate entity we¡¯re sitting in. I just need him to agree to this.


    Cole¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°You¡¯re pushing it,¡± he says, and he¡¯s not just referencing the bookstore.


    I spread my hands wide and try to soften my voice. ¡°Look, if we¡¯re not financially sound in two months¡¯ time, feel free to tear the store down. You¡¯ve run the numbers, and you¡¯re the captain of industry here. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re right. But¡­ on the off chance that we¡¯re right, we get to stay, incorporated into your new building.¡±


    Bryan is shaking his head at me, like he can¡¯t believe what I¡¯m saying. Karli is a statue next to me. But Cole¡­ he¡¯s staring at me with something unfathomable in his eyes, a challenge that reminds me of the night we¡¯d spent together. Do you like it when I touch you like this?


    ¡°You want to make a bet, Skye? Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± My mouth is dry. ¡°What do you have to lose? Either you get a profitable new business as part of your new hotel, or your development goes ahead exactly as nned.¡±


    His lips twitch at the way I¡¯d said hotel. Maybe I¡¯d emphasized it a little bit too much. And in his eyes, there¡¯s depth and pride and arrogance. And something else, something buried deep. Dark amusement.


    Bryan is the one who finally speaks. ¡°Sir, this is highly unusual.¡±


    ¡°It is. But then again, as Miss Hond and Mrs. Stiller have reminded us, their bookstore is as well.¡± Cole¡¯s lips finally give, stretching into a smile just shy of being predatory. In the hotel bar we¡¯d been on equal footing, two strangers meeting. Here, in thepany he owns-thepany seeking to ruin my life-he¡¯s legions above me. ¡°We ept, Miss Hond. If you can prove that your bookstore is profitable in two months¡¯ time, we will reconsider.¡±


    ¡°Reconsider?¡± Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. ¡°I want your word.¡±


    He arches an eyebrow. ¡°You want me to promise?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    His eyes flicker. ¡°You have it. Is this eptable to you as well, Mrs. Stiller?¡±


    Karli gives a quick nod. ¡°Yes. Yes, it is.¡±


    ¡°Then I consider the matter settled.¡± He shoots Bryan and Tyra a professional nod. ¡°Draw up the appropriate paperwork and have it sent to Mrs. Stiller by the end of business tomorrow. Will that be sufficient?¡± The question is to Karli, but his body is angled towards me.


    God. What have I done?


    ¡°It is.¡±


    ¡°Then this meeting is concluded. I¡¯ll escort you out.¡±


    Cole stands, ignoring the looks of incredulity both of his employees shoot him. Karli and I pick up our papers and follow him in silence, down the hall, into the elevators. He strides easily through the office, a king in his kingdom, ignoring the daggers I stare into him. He doesn¡¯t seem remotely impacted, but I persist, hoping he might miraculously buckle under the pressure.


    Cole might have agreed to my challenge, but I knew better than to think he¡¯d honor it. Porter Development doesn¡¯t think we have a chance in hell of seeding. He¡¯s gone from being my fun one-night stand, the perfect sexual memory, into a mistake. Worse than a mistake-an enemy.


    ¡°Well,dies,¡± he says, holding the elevator door open for us. ¡°That was an interesting meeting.¡±


    Karli hums in agreement. ¡°I appreciate you giving us this opportunity.¡±


    His eyes slide to mine, but I refuse to meet them. The anger in me is rising, and seeing the smugness on his handsome features would send it sting. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°You two made a very convincing argument.¡±


    Karli¡¯sughter is half embarrassment, half pride. ¡°Yes. Skye and I practically spent our youths in that ce.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    Does he? Somehow I doubt it. Asshole, I think again, hopefully loud enough to send it across the airwaves in his direction.


    Cole walks us through the lobby. He¡¯s more than a head taller than us both, his strides long and sure. The need to tell him off is burning under my skin, warring with embarrassment and anger, but there¡¯s no way I can admit to Karli that the one-night-stand guy I¡¯ve told her so much about is Cole damn Porter. It already feels like a betrayal.


    ¡°Well,dies,¡± he says, voice deep and untroubled. ¡°This is where I leave you.¡±


    I can¡¯t avoid his gaze any longer. It¡¯s heavy with meaning, referencing the things left unsaid between us-no doubt he can see theshing waiting on the tip of my tongue. I know you¡¯re angry, his gaze says.


    I meet it head-on. He might be used to intimidating employees, developers, servers. Not me, though. For good reason, my gaze replies. Asshole.


    ¡°Thank you for today.¡± Karli shakes his hand, the picture of manners, and I¡¯m forced to do the same.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 10

    His fingers curl around mine softly.


    I squeeze his back as hard as I can.


    Cole doesn¡¯t flinch, though his hand has to be hurting. The only thing in his eyes is amusement. ¡°It was my pleasure, Miss Hond.¡±


    Cole


    ¡°You¡¯re falling behind.¡±


    I scowl at Nick and reach for the towel. ¡°I¡¯ll get you in the next set.¡±


    He rests his tennis racquet against the low bench and shoots me a wolfish grin. ¡°That¡¯s what you saidst time. Hell, man, this is your game.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for reminding me.¡± I wipe the sweat off my brow. Once a week, for as long as I can remember, Nick and I¡¯ve yed tennis in the mornings. And I haven¡¯t lost this badly in about as long.


    ¡°Your head is elsewhere.¡±


    I don¡¯t protest, because frankly, he¡¯s right. Focusing has been difficult since yesterday, when Skye Hond walked into my office and negotiated her way into a bet I should never have agreed to.


    ¡°It might be, yeah.¡±


    Nick frowns. ¡°Business? The development on Fourth Street has been giving you a lot of shit, right?¡±


    ¡°It has, yeah, but that¡¯s not it. I¡¯ve somehow managed to mix business and pleasure. Again.¡±


    Nick, who remembers the first time I did that, winces. ¡°Ouch.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    He lobbies a tennis ball at me and I catch it easily, plucking it out of the air. ¡°Does she work for you?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly. I¡¯m nning to demolish the business she works in.¡±


    For a moment, Nick just stares at me, before he throws his head back andughs. ¡°You¡¯re not serious.¡±


    ¡°Deadly,¡± I say, tossing the ball back at him.


    ¡°Fucking hell.¡± He lobbies it hard at my chest but I catch it easily, my skin smarting. ¡°How can she stand to be in the same room as you?¡±


    ¡°At the moment, I doubt she can. We slept together weeks ago, before I knew who she was.¡±


    Nick runs a hand through his hair. ¡°How¡¯d you meet?¡±


    ¡°At Legacy.¡±


    ¡°You had a one-night stand?¡±


    I turn my back on him and fit my tennis racquet into the sleeve. My centrally located hotel has an indoor tennis court, conveniently close to work. Nick and I have a standing reservation.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. I can practically hear what Nick isn¡¯t saying, the taunts we¡¯ve both grown out of. Had this been five years ago, he would have yed me verbally, and I would have given as good as I got. ¡°And it was fucking fantastic. Best sex I¡¯ve had in years. I was rather hoping to repeat it, but then¡­ well.¡±


    ¡°You became the devil,¡± he says. I shoot him an evil look, and he grins again. ¡°In her eyes, I mean.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°Yes, and with it, any hope of a repeat.¡±


    ¡°If you want me to tell you to not tear down her building, I won¡¯t.¡± His smile is gone now. ¡°Business and pleasure don¡¯t mix.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± I say. Mixing them in the past had been the most expensive mistake I¡¯d ever made.


    ¡°And if your team has run the numbers, drawn up the contracts, started nning¡­ don¡¯t stop that. You bring business to Seattle. It¡¯s what you¡¯ve done for years.¡± He shrugs. ¡°There are more women in the city.¡±


    I nod, thinking to myself that for so long, none of them had appealed to me, not until Skye.


    Nick¡¯s advice is solid. But as I stand in the shower and warm water cascades around me, memories of her find me again. Her warm body against mine. How she¡¯d tasted. The way she had been entirely herself-not afraid to tease me, to take the lead, but also oddly shy, like she was unsure of how I¡¯d react. She¡¯d whispered things in the dark, things I¡¯m sure she regrets now, when my head had been between her thighs.


    I¡¯ve nevere when a man did that before.


    It hadn¡¯t been a lie, I¡¯m sure of that, and I feel just the same as I did then, ovee with the desire to show her more of what I could do. To rise above her and fill her and make here again and again.


    I close my eyes against the tiles. She¡¯d been seething yesterday. I could see it in her eyes. Why didn¡¯t you tell me?


    And beneath it, a very different kind of anger. She¡¯d had her impulsive one-night stand with a handsome stranger-a part I¡¯d yed willingly-and then I¡¯d turned out to be the one person she despised more than any other.


    Yeah. She was right to be fucking furious with me.


    But I also know that what happened between us in that hotel bed hadn¡¯t just been a one-off or a fluke, either. Sex that good never is.


    I¡¯m going to have to convince her of that.


    The car pulls up smoothly outside the little bookstore that evening.


    ¡°Should I wait here for you, sir?¡±


    I straighten the cor of my jacket. ¡°No. I¡¯ll call you when I¡¯m done.¡±


    Charles doesn¡¯tment. He¡¯s been with me for years, and despite knowing the ins and outs of my life, he¡¯s never once crossed the line. Business and friendship, never mixing. The way it should be.


    The way I¡¯m ignoring at the moment.


    It¡¯s aplete gamble that she¡¯s still here-I¡¯ll just as likely take Karli Stiller by surprise instead.


    I stop outside the bookstore. Between the Pages has a certain charm, that¡¯s true, but most of ites from being so clearly loved. The window disys are crafted with care, the sign by the door hand-painted.


    The little bell announces my arrival gayly as I step instead. It might as well be a war drum, because the moment she sees me, there¡¯ll be hell to pay.


    And I can¡¯t wait.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right with you!¡± It¡¯s her voice, somewhere from the back. No Karli behind the register. Perfect. I pick up a book by the counter as I wait. Flipping it over, I see it¡¯s a romance novel, two people torn apart over and over again by life and fate. I put it down with a snort. If they¡¯re that good at mimunication, they¡¯re clearly not soul mates.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 11

    Skye freezes in her tracks when she sees me. Her brown hair is in a ponytail, exposing her slim neck, a golden pendent resting at her throat.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I need another book.¡±


    Her eyes narrow. ¡°Bullshit.¡±


    ¡°How would you know? Maybe I¡¯ve already finished the one I boughtst week.¡±


    ¡°Sure you have.¡± She puts her hands on her hips, a beautiful flush creeping up on her cheeks. The same thing happened in the meeting yesterday, but she hadn¡¯t backed down, not even when my employees tried to silence her. It¡¯s another piece of her puzzle. She¡¯s brave.


    ¡°You should have told mest week,¡± she says. ¡°Who you were.¡±


    ¡°And interrupted our banter? Never.¡± I lean in closer, remembering the shyness she¡¯d disyed when I¡¯de into the storest week. ¡°You would have never told me all the things I wanted to know if I had.¡±


    Her color rises. ¡°It wasn¡¯t fair. You let me talk about¡­ that, and all the while you knew that I¡¯d feel differently as soon as I found out. I even called you an asshole to your face!¡±


    I have to stop myself from smiling. ¡°You did. I haven¡¯t been called that in a long time. It was novel.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so happy to provide you with some entertainment.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re misremembering things,¡± I point out. ¡°You made it very clear that I was your entertainment that night, not the other way around.¡±


    Her brow furrows. ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡±


    ¡°No? I kept the note you left me. Do you want me to find it? I think it¡¯s in my wallet, actually.¡±


    ¡°No, thank you, and I actually don¡¯t think it¡¯s something we should talk about again. It¡¯s unprofessional.¡± She takes a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest, her slim waist and the curve of her breasts entuated. Being this close to her-knowing what her body feels like against mine-and not being able to reach out is like the sweetest form of torture.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. We¡¯re now in a professional arrangement, thanks to you.¡±


    ¡°You agreed.¡±


    ¡°So I did.¡± I deliberately look away from her, putting on my most contemptuous face, and sweep my gaze across the store. ¡°Making this profitable is going to be quite a task.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think we¡¯ll seed? People don¡¯t read as much these days, it¡¯s a dying industry, yada yada yada. I¡¯ve heard it all before. But you know what? You¡¯ll thank me in the end.¡±


    ¡°I will?¡±


    ¡°Yes, when you get a perfectly run, highly profitable bookstore to add to your development.¡±


    I pick up a book from the self-help section. How to Face Your Demons. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how I¡¯d manage to incorporate a bookstore into the lobby of a hotel.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d break your word?¡±


    I look up at the clear fury in her voice. ¡°No. If you manage it in two months, we¡¯ll manage the rest. Somehow.¡±


    She hums, like she¡¯s not convinced, but it¡¯s a start. I put the book back. ¡°How are you nning on doing it?¡±


    ¡°Making the store profitable?¡±


    She crosses her arms. She¡¯s wearing a T-shirt with the bookstore logo printed on it. Between the Pages is written right across her chest. ¡°Why do you want to know? So you can sabotage us?¡±


    ¡°You are terribly paranoid.¡±


    Something in her shoulders loosens. ¡°Maybe. But this bookstore is too important, and you¡¯re too annoying. I have to be on my guard.¡±


    My smile is back. ¡°I¡¯m annoying? That¡¯s not what I remember. I distinctly remember being called amazing. Great. Or, my personal favorite, the time you whispered that I was the biggest-¡±


    ¡°God, Cole!¡± She reaches over and hits my shoulder. For such a small woman, she¡¯s strong. ¡°What part of let¡¯s-never-speak-of-it-again didn¡¯t you understand?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t agree to that.¡±


    ¡°You have to. What were you thinking, anyway? What if Karli was here?¡±


    I look back at her calmly. ¡°Then I¡¯d be here to see the ce in person.¡±


    Skye is looking at me like she has absolutely no idea what to do with me. If it wasn¡¯t for the fact that I feel the exact same way regarding her, I would have found it funny.


    ¡°That hotel bar was yours. You own it.¡±


    ¡°I own that hotel, yes.¡±


    ¡°The hotel room. Was it yours?¡±


    I put my hands in my pockets. ¡°Technically, they¡¯re all mine.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there on business.¡±


    ¡°I was, I just wasn¡¯t from out of town. That was your assumption.¡±


    ¡°Why were you there?¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I was waiting for someone at the Legacy. Someone who works in the building, but who waste.¡±


    ¡°You blew them off?¡±


    ¡°Can you me me? A gorgeous brte by the bar kept me pretty upied.¡±


    She fiddles with the hem of her T-shirt, as if she feels underdressed. Maybe I should have changed out of my suit. ¡°You can quit with thepliments now. I¡¯ve already climbed into bed with you once, and it¡¯s not going to happen again.¡±


    There¡¯s a pang of disappointment, but I don¡¯t let it show. I take a step closer. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a promise you¡¯re willing to make?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Skye says, but her voice is a bit breathless. It¡¯s so quiet in the bookstore that I could hear a pin drop-not a customer, not background music, nothing.


    ¡°Are you here alone in the evenings?¡±


    She puts a hand to her forehead, taking a step back. ¡°Most of the time, yes.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 12

    I look at the flimsy front door, the cash register sitting right by the entrance. It doesn¡¯t seem like a particrly safe situation. Skye sees my gaze and raises her hackles immediately. ¡°We have a panic button. There¡¯s never been any incidents, and I don¡¯t expect they¡¯ll start now.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°That is not a strike against the bookshop.¡± She puts her finger up, like she¡¯s scolding me, but the look in her eyes could kill. ¡°I won¡¯t let youe here and snoop around and try to find reasons to shut us down. We made a bargain.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t intend to-¡±


    ¡°Skye? I found another one!¡±


    Her head snaps to the side, to the child¡¯s voice echoing from the back of the store. Then she looks back at me. Indecision is clear in her gaze.


    ¡°Look!¡± A boy wanders up through one of the aisles, holding a newspaper. He can¡¯t be more than ten, dark brown hair, round sses perched on his nose.


    He stops when he sees me. ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to interrupt.¡± Judging by the way his cheeks color, they have to be family.


    ¡°You¡¯re not interrupting, Timmy. What did you find?¡±


    He sidles up to Skye, opening the newspaper while shooting me a furtive nce. He points at something-an article for a school project?-but I¡¯m not listening.


    Skye has a son?


    I look at her again. The smooth skin, her thick hair, the natural curve to her lips, the pointy chin. She can¡¯t be much older than twenty-five. A son this age?


    The boy is openly staring at me now. ¡°Hello,¡± I say, dazed from the realization. ¡°I¡¯m Cole.¡±


    ¡°Timmy. It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    Good manners on the kid, I¡¯ll give him that. Skye puts a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Cole isn¡¯t a customer. He¡¯s¡­ an acquaintance.¡±


    Her dry tone makes me want to smile. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I say. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    He looks at me nkly before turning to Skye. She smiles at him, a soft, genuine smile, nothing sardonic or mocking in it. ¡°Timmy¡¯s my nephew. I think Cole was wondering if I was your mom there, buddy.¡±


    The kidughs, like that¡¯s ridiculous. ¡°She¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°Timmy is here in the evenings sometimes, when my sister has to workte. But I think-¡± Skye is interrupted by the shrill sound of the bookstore¡¯s phone, ringing behind the register. She shoots me a look that says behave! and heads off to answer it.


    The kid is shooting me nces above his newspaper. I clear my throat. ¡°What¡¯s your school project about?¡±


    ¡°We have to find three articles that are all about the same topic andpare them.¡±


    I nod at the newspaper in his hands. ¡°What have you chosen?¡±


    He turns it around and holds it up high so I can see. ¡°The Mariners got a new coach.¡±


    ¡°So they did.¡± I run a hand over my jaw and skim the article. ¡°Probably a mistake, if you ask me, but I look forward to seeing his style.¡±


    Timmy¡¯s face lights up. ¡°You¡¯re a Mariners fan?¡±


    ¡°Course I am, kid. You are too?¡±


    ¡°Yeees.¡± He draws out the sybles, eyes widening dramatically. ¡°I saw one of their games a few years back. Skye took me.¡±


    A few years back? I grin at the kid. ¡°How old are you?¡±


    ¡°Nine. Well, I¡¯ll be nine in a few months.¡±


    I nce over at Skye. She¡¯ll hate what I¡¯m about to say next, but the eagerness in his tone makes it impossible. ¡°I see a lot of their games.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Most of their home games, in fact.¡± Correction: all. It¡¯s one of the things I do with Nick and Ethan, and sometimes with my sister. I have a VIP season pass. One of the many benefits thates with money; you can invest in your passions.


    Timmy¡¯s eyes are glowing. ¡°Who¡¯s your favorite yer?¡±


    I pretend to deliberate. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I have so many. Why don¡¯t you tell me yours?¡±


    He grins andunches into a debate about the pitcher. Arms gesticting, he¡¯s so invested that he has to put down the newspaper to fully execute a swing, just to show me how good his reach is. Any shyness ispletely gone.


    ¡°Do you y?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± he says, but he doesn¡¯t look at me when he says it. ¡°Not that much, I guess.¡±


    ¡°I bet you¡¯d be good at it.¡±


    ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°With that swing? Heck yeah.¡± I bend down and pick up the newspaper. ¡°Do you do your homework here often?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Sometimes Skye lets me have fun, but only after I¡¯ve finished my homework.¡± He says this with a dramatic sigh, and I grin in response. We both look over to where Skye is on the phone, nodding along to something the person on the other side is saying. Her face is set in brisk professionalism, her mouth softened into a smile.


    ¡°How do you know my aunt?¡±


    My attention snaps back to her nephew. ¡°I¡¯m a friend.¡±


    He gives a slow nod. ¡°All right,¡± he says. ¡°A friend. Do you want to see my baseball cards?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love-¡±


    ¡°Cole was just leaving.¡± Skye is back, a hand ced on Timmy¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for keeping you waiting.¡±


    ¡°No worries.¡±


    ¡°Go back upstairs, Timmy. There are more newspapers in the crate by the door-you can look in those as well.¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    He shoots her an exasperated look before waving goodbye to me. We both watch in silence as his small form trudges through the bookshop, past shelves after shelves of books.


    ¡°Good kid,¡± I say.


    ¡°He is. Why are you really here, Cole?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 13

    I run a hand across my jaw again. Her eyes are zing, a challenge in them, and something that runs deeper. Embarrassment? Hurt?


    ¡°I should have told you who I was when I was herest week,¡± I say.


    ¡°So you came to apologize?¡±


    My grin is back, and I take a few steps back toward the front door. ¡°Consider me epting the two-month bet my apology,¡± I say.


    ¡°epted. But I¡¯ll still remember, Cole.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say, my hand on the front door. ¡°As long as you remember what I told youst week. I would have called, Skye, if you had left me your number. And you would have picked up.¡±


    ¡°See? We could put these up around the neighborhood. The noticeboard by the grocery store, inside caf¨¦s, by bus stops¡­¡± I hold up one of the flyers I made for Karli to see.


    ¡°When did you make these?¡±


    ¡°Last night. I went to the copy shop this morning.¡± I put it down, two cups of coffee and determination making my skin itch with excitement. ¡°You know the author we featuredst week? She¡¯s a Seattle native. Maybe we could organize a book reading and signing with her?¡±


    Karli isughing. ¡°Did you get any sleepst night?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Well, a bit.¡± I¡¯d stayed upte, doing everything from brainstorming ideas to watching videos on YouTube by prominent businessmen. Thetter hadn¡¯t helped at all-I wasn¡¯t nning on building a multi-billion-dor empire here-but it had definitely given me motivation. Never give up, never surrender. My ns of finishing my manuscript before the year is out have all been scrapped. Between the Pages is more important.


    ¡°The posters are fantastic.¡±


    ¡°And the mic night?¡±


    ¡°And the mic night.¡± She nods. Karli reaches across and puts a hand on mine. ¡°Skye, what came over you in the meeting yesterday?¡±


    I meet her earnest gaze with one of my own. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know. I was so angry, and so¡­ well. I couldn¡¯t let it go down without a fight. I still can¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry if I embarrassed you.¡±


    ¡°Embarrassed me? Skye, we were sinking, and you bartered your way to a lifeline.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t just let him win, you know.¡±


    ¡°Him?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the titan of industry. Cole Porter. Big business. Corporate greed. Them.¡±


    Karli shakes her head at me. ¡°You¡¯re starting to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but I like it. Give me a stack of these posters and I¡¯ll hang some up during lunch?¡±


    I grin. ¡°This is just the beginning. I have so many ideas, Karli¡­ This isn¡¯t the end of Between the Pages.¡±


    Her smile is excited, all signs of tiredness or resignation gone for the first time in weeks. ¡°You know what? Even if it is, we gave it our all. Nana would have wanted nothing less.¡±


    I spend the rest of the day immersed in the store. I look at every shelf like it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen them. I stand outside for nearly thirty minutes and analyze our window disys, until Karli tells me toe back inside because I¡¯m scaring away actual customers.


    The bookstore can¡¯t fail. It can¡¯t. I walk through the second story, with the dark wood bookcases and the ratty old armchair in the corner, seeing it all like I¡¯m twelve again. For years, this had been my safe ce. My refuge from the world, from school and home.


    I run my hand along the spiral staircase up to the attic. We never go up there, and the staircase is purely decorative now. A small sign hangs on it, the lettering artistic and flowing. The staircase to book heaven. Unfortunately off-limits (at the moment).


    I¡¯d put the sign there when I was fifteen, and Karli¡¯s grandmother Eleanor never took it down. This store has a ce in themunity. In the city. There is magic living between these dusty walls. It¡¯s a store that holds a thousand stories, a thousand characters, a thousand ces just waiting to be explored. We just need to get the magic across more effectively.


    And if I have anything to say on the matter, we will. Between the Pages will continue spreading its magic to tons of little girls and boys who need it.


    ¡°And you¡¯re okay with me leaving early?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course I am.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure, sure?¡±


    Karliughs. ¡°Yes! John ising by soon anyway, and he¡¯ll keep mepany before closing. Besides, it¡¯s not like you¡¯re going home and lying on the couch.¡±


    I lift the stack of posters high. ¡°No, not exactly. I¡¯m going to ster the city with these. Between the Pages will be everywhere. Not a single Seattleite will be missed.¡±


    Her eyes soften. ¡°I¡¯m really happy to have you. I know you could do so much more than work here, with me¡­ but I appreciate it.¡±


    The lump in my throat is sudden, and I have to swallow around it. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere else I¡¯d rather be. You know that.¡±


    ¡°Even so. Thank you.¡±


    I walk up the street, as familiar to me as my own hand. There¡¯s a notice board by the old bakery, now turned into aundromat. Janice is seated outside with her little dog at her side. Yes!


    ¡°Hi there,¡± I say, putting up my poster.


    She squints at it. ¡°What are you doing there?¡±


    ¡°Protesting the new development.¡±


    She gives a croakyugh. ¡°No good cane of that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it might! If enough customerse to the store in theing two months, we might be able to stay.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I beam at her. ¡°We¡¯re inviting everyone in the area to pop in, as often as possible. We¡¯re organizing a book reading, too.¡±


    ¡°Really,¡± she says again, softer this time. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll have to swing by then.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d be happy to have you.¡±


    I say bye to Ms. Janice and her little dog with a smile. She talks to everyone in this neighborhood-anyone at all who will listen. She¡¯s better than any noticeboard I could find.Ccontent ? exclusive by N?/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    I turn up Aven Street and continue on my poster quest. I ask caf¨¦s for permission to put them up. For the first time in weeks, there¡¯s purpose in what I do. Save the bookshop. It runs on a loop in my head, over and over and over again.


    What had I said to Karli? Captain of industry. Big business. I use my phone to search the inte for Porter Development, but all I find is their generic website. I shake my head and try again. What properties does Porter Development own?


    Jackpot. There¡¯s the Reese Hotel, with the Legacy bar, but I keep scrolling. I don¡¯t need to be reminded of the night I spent there.


    Flitwick Apartments is another one-and it¡¯s nearby. I nce down at my remaining stack of posters. Well, Cole Porter. Maybe it¡¯s time to show just how determined we are to keep Between the Pages running.


    The next day is calm. We get a few new customers-all of whom credit my poster-but other than that, business churns on as usual. That is to say, it¡¯s practically nonexistent.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 14

    Byte afternoon, I¡¯m alone again, working the evening shift. Karli has gone home to her husband and kids with a new cupcake recipe to try. I told her to save one for me tomorrow, and I¡¯m already looking forward to it.


    I turn up the radio and hum along as I scroll through Pinterest. Looking at bookstores and libraries around the world has given me a serious case of envy, but also a ton of ideas. Between the Pages has the same magical vibes-old-world charm, like Cole said-but we could definitely amp it up a bit.


    I pause at a picture of a beautiful bookstore somewhere in Europe, a doorway between two adjoining rooms made entirely out of books.


    I add it to the list next to me. Doorway of books. There are a ton of ideas there already. Heart of books is there, too. I saw that one on Instagram, with people traveling specifically to get a picture of themselves surrounded by books glued together in the shape of a heart.


    Something like that would be perfect. Exactly what we need-a visual draw. A reason for people toe out to Between the Pages, to take their own pictures, to stay for a while and be enchanted. And, hopefully, to buy books.


    I pause at another picture of little nters atop shelves, with green, flowing leaves hanging down. It looks gorgeous.


    I copy it dutifully into my notebook. nts. The list is half useful, half ridiculous. A picture of a beautiful old bookstore in Paris had a cat in it, so I had written Cat into my notebook. There was no way that was going to fly with Karli, but at least it was giving me something to do.


    I¡¯m interrupted by the jingle of the bell at the door. I drop my phone immediately, a weing smile spreading across my lips.


    It dies the second I see who it is.


    Cole is holding up one of my posters. Frustration has his jaw set into a hard line. ¡°What the hell is this?¡±


    I squint. ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±Ccontent ? exclusive by N?/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    ¡°You¡¯re damn sure, Skye. These were stered to the outside of every single one of my buildings.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Those.¡±


    ¡°Yes, those.¡± He puts the poster down on the counter, anger in his eyes. A corresponding thrill runs through me.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to ensure we¡¯re profitable in two months. Encouragingmunity support is part of that.¡±


    ¡°The Bluestone Hotel is halfway across the city, and its guests are from out of town. It¡¯s decidedly not part of yourmunity.¡±


    I blink up at him. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re so angry about. We made a bet. I¡¯m trying to win.¡±


    ¡°What you actually did was informing every single one of my employees about it.¡±


    Shit. I hadn¡¯t thought about that. ¡°Whoops?¡±


    ¡°Fucking hell, Skye¡­¡± He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. ¡°There have to be other things on your to-do-list besides ruining my reputation. Or is that number one?¡± He snatches the notebook from behind the counter, his movements too quick for me. ¡°Is this it? Let¡¯s see, where is ¡®Destroy Cole Porter¡¯¡­¡±


    ¡°Give that back.¡±


    He takes a step back, evading my arm, and I watch in horrified silence as his eyes rake through the list.


    ¡°Buy nts. Get a cat? This is your n to save the store?¡±


    A furious flush creeps up my neck. ¡°They¡¯re just ideas.¡±


    ¡°Your first idea was to ster posters on all of my businesses, and your second idea was to buy a cat?¡±


    I reach to snatch the notebook out of his hands, and this time, he lets me. The mirth on his face is only making my embarrassment worse.


    ¡°Look, I haven¡¯t asked you to contribute your amazing business sense to this, all right? Besides, you work with buildings, not bookstores.¡±


    ¡°I work with people and profit,¡± he says, and the implication is clear in his words. And this is not going to make the cut.


    Looking at him standing there in his thousand-dor suit and smug smile, I want to sink through the floor. My ideas had been fun. They¡¯d been a way for us to create a more magical atmosphere, to draw in more customers. They¡¯d been a silly distraction from the all-too-likely scenario-demolition.


    ¡°Look,¡± I tell him. ¡°People don¡¯t buy as many books anymore. It¡¯s sad, but it¡¯s true. We need to bring customers here for another reason. Some of the most sessful bookstores in the world have people queueing outside, and it¡¯s because of their atmosphere and picture-worthy aesthetics. Instagram drives business these days.¡±


    He holds up his hands. ¡°If you can pull that off, I¡¯ll be the first to admit that I¡¯m wrong.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a but in your tone.¡±


    Cole nods at my list, a strand of his thick hair falling across his forehead. It¡¯s silky to the touch-I remember.


    ¡°Going through your finances should be the first thing you do.¡±


    I tap my pen against the notepad. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Cut down on all non-essential expenses and halt all new purchases of books. See if you can sh prices. Do you have an ountant?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, though in truth, I¡¯m not sure. Karli always handles that part.


    ¡°Then meet with them as soon as possible,¡± Cole says, shaking his head. ¡°Why am I giving you advice? I received a call from my assistant today who said we had a targeted attack on thepany.¡±


    ¡°Wow. All because of my posters?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s what you unleashed, you little demon.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the one demolishing entire city blocks.¡±


    His eyes narrow. ¡°Sometimes you have to make space for the new. Now, will you stop attacking my buildings?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t make any promises. And it was hardly an attack, Cole, I just put up some posters!¡±


    ¡°Skye.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Yes, I¡¯ll stop.¡± I put my notebook back behind the counter and make a mental note to ask Karli about our ountant.


    He raises a doubtful eyebrow. ¡°You wanted to send a signal, and I don¡¯t think it was to any of my employees. Well, consider it received.¡±


    Cole¡¯s right about that. I run a hand over my ponytail-when he¡¯s around, I feel constantly underdressed. ¡°I don¡¯t exactly have your number, so it was the only way I could think of.¡±


    ¡°You could¡¯ve had my phone number, you know. If that¡¯s what you wanted, all you had to do was ask, that night at the hotel.¡± His voice has dropped an octave, smooth like crushed velvet and danger.


    I produce an Oscar-worthy scoff. ¡°I thought we agreed not to talk about that night.¡±


    ¡°I never agreed to that. And I wonder¡­ you act like it¡¯s all in the past. But I noticed something today.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 15

    Cole steps closer, my eyes in line with the cor of his shirt. The top button is undone, a few dark hairs visible. I know it continues down his chest, darkening and deepening down his taut stomach and further still.


    ¡°You went to every single one of my properties,¡± he says, ¡°except Legacy. Was that another message, Skye?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± My voice sounds faint, even to my own ears.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t it get the same treatment, then?¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°It has a pretty facade. I didn¡¯t want to ruin it.¡±


    ¡°Of course. You¡¯re unaffected.¡±


    A rough finger tilts my head up slightly, until I¡¯m forced to meet his burning gaze. Cole looks exactly like he did that night at the Legacy bar. Charming. Powerful. A bit dangerous.


    He bends his head softly, until his breath ghosts across my lips. ¡°Liar,¡± he says. ¡°I haven¡¯t been back to Legacy either, not since that night.¡±


    I¡¯m like a rabbit, stuck in the headlights, unable to end this moment. My willpower is weakening. The part of my body that has been screaming for a repeat is roaring, preparing her arguments. His lips are so close.


    ¡°I hate you,¡± I whisper. ¡°So much.¡±


    He leans back with a sardonic smile. ¡°Oh, Skye. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s true at all.¡± He pushes the poster toward me. ¡°Keep this. I have about a thousand more where that came from.¡±


    And then he¡¯s gone, striding out as quickly as he came in, and I¡¯m left trying to clear my head. What had he been about to do?


    And worse¡­ what had I been about to do?


    I push the stool back further, gripping my phone tight. The angle needs to be perfect for this shot.


    ¡°Like this?¡± Karli asks, lifting the book a little bit higher.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s perfect. And turn it a little bit¡­ yes!¡± I stand on the stool, maintaining my bnce, and take about ten nearly identical pictures. With the beautiful dark bookcase in the background, and the spiral staircase, it¡¯s a great picture of this weeks ¡°Rmended by Between the Pages staff.¡±


    ¡°Can I lower it now?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we got it.¡±


    Karli shakes her arms out. ¡°Wow. I had no clue I was this weak.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it. I had to run for the bus the other week and nearly fainted.¡±


    Sheughs, bending to tuck the stool back into ce. ¡°How many pictures have you taken now? You must have a dozen.¡±


    ¡°Nearly twenty.¡± I favorite the picture I like the most and add it to the album on my phone titled Instagram. ¡°We¡¯re going to be the most followed bookstore in Seattle.¡±


    Karli¡¯s voice is amused. ¡°How many followers does the most followed have?¡±


    ¡°Well, technically speaking, they have fifteen thousand.¡±


    ¡°Fifteen thousand?¡±


    ¡°Should be a piece of cake.¡±


    Karli pushes her sses back. ¡°I saw the poster you made for the book reading night, by the way.¡±


    ¡°What did you think?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s great. I¡¯ve made a list with speakers I think would be interested in joining, as well as the author. I¡¯ll give them a callter this afternoon.¡±


    Relief floods through me. Karli has been on board with my ideas from the start, but having her active participation in these things is even better. She has tons of connections in this world, her grandmother¡¯s name opening doors, and it will mean a loting from Karli herself.


    ¡°That¡¯s perfect. I¡¯ll promote it on our new social media ounts too.¡± I wave my phone at her, and she grins.


    ¡°What¡¯s our current follower count?¡±


    I check. ¡°Three hundred forty-eight. That¡¯s twelve higher than yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Saving the bookstore, one like at a time.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. About that, though¡­ I¡¯ve been thinking about something.¡± I put my phone in my pocket and curse myself for following Cole¡¯s advice. ¡°We should go over the finances as well, right? The only thing we need to show is that we¡¯re profitable. If we cut down on all expenses, and maybe have a sale on some of the more difficult inventory¡­¡±


    Karli sits down in the old armchair in the corner with a sigh. ¡°I know. It¡¯s exactly what we should do.¡±


    I take a seat on the stool opposite her. ¡°It¡¯s a lot. I know.¡±


    ¡°It is. And¡­ Well, I haven¡¯t told you yet, but our ountant is quitting.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Terrible timing, I know. Greg¡¯s retiring, and I haven¡¯t figured out what to do. Honestly, before the meeting with Porter Development, I was so ready to throw in the towel on the whole thing.¡±


    I reach across and put my hand on hers. ¡°You¡¯re not alone in this. I¡¯ll help you with anything and everything. I know it¡¯s not my ce-¡±


    But Karli just shakes her head. ¡°It is. This is our store, Skye. We need as many of your ideas as we can get.¡±


    I squeeze her hand. ¡°So now we need a new ountant.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Someone who can start pretty much right away. Someone who¡¯s okay with only being guaranteed work for two months.¡±


    ¡°Should be plenty of firms around here. I think I could-oh! I do know someone. Chloe. My old college roommate.¡± I¡¯m already fishing out my phone, scrolling through my contacts. ¡°She¡¯s an ountant.¡±


    ¡°Yes! I saw her just a few months ago at a mutual friend¡¯s wedding. We¡¯re not exactly close, but she was always good in school. Straight As. I could give her a call?¡±


    Karli is smiling at me. ¡°What would I do without you?¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°You¡¯d be getting some peace and quiet, probably. This bookstore would be much calmer.¡±


    She chuckles. ¡°But not nearly as entertaining. Come on, let¡¯s go downstairs and officially open for business today. Did you see what I brought? I put it in the storage room.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 16

    ¡°Cupcakes from yesterday. I tried a new recipe.¡±


    I¡¯m already hurrying down the steps. ¡°What kind?¡±


    ¡°Carrot cake.¡±


    My stomach grumbles at the sound of that. ¡°Carrots are nutritious, so they count as breakfast, right?¡±


    Karliughs at me, already ducking behind the curtain into the storage room. ¡°Absolutely!¡±


    The day goes by without a hitch. I¡¯m polishing some of our reading lights-golden, old-school, one of Eleanor¡¯s many touches-when the doorbell jingles again. We¡¯ve had several customers already, and each jingle has buoyed my mood even more.


    I might be a failed writer. An okay-ish sister. But I¡¯m a good bookstore employee, and my posters are already paying dividends.


    A voice reaches me. ¡°Delivery for Miss Skye Hond.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Wow. Yes, this is the right ce. Skye!¡±


    I peek around the corner. A courier is holding a massive box, filled to the brim with potted nts.


    He nods when he sees me. ¡°Miss Hond?¡±


    Putting down the box, he hands me a small slip. ¡°Sign at the bottom, please.¡±


    I sign my name on autopilot, still gazing at the delivery. There¡¯s at least ten nts, the green and leafy type. The kind that looks almost like ivy, spilling out of the rims of their pots.


    ¡°Well, have a nice day then,dies.¡±


    ¡°Bye,¡± I murmur at the delivery guy.


    Karli¡¯s voice is warmer. ¡°You too. Thanks.¡±


    When he¡¯s gone, she turns to me with incredulous eyes. ¡°You ordered this? For the store?¡±


    Weakly, I nod.


    ¡°This must have cost a lot. But it¡¯ll look so good¡­ like that picture you showed me the other day, of the old bookstore in Paris. Ours looks a little bit like that already. This will look amazing.¡± She bends and pulls out a pot of Devil¡¯s Ivy. ¡°We could have this on the spiral staircase. Look how long the tendrils are!¡±


    ¡°Yes. Fantastic.¡± I bend and pick up the entire box, and as I do, I notice the small white envelope tucked inside one of the pots. ¡°I¡¯ll put it in the back for now, all right?¡±


    When I¡¯m safely hidden by shelves, I pull out the note. There are ten digits written in a square, masculine hand. Below it, a single sentence. For the next time you feel like sending me a message.


    I slip the note into my pocket, where it feels hot, like it¡¯s burning straight through the fabric of my jeans and searing my skin. I hate that he has this effect on me. That I can¡¯t seem to get over the amazing night we spent together, before I knew I was sleeping with the enemy.


    Buy nts. He¡¯d seen it on my list yesterday, the list he¡¯d made fun of, before giving me ¡°actual¡± business advice.


    I smile down at the box of nts. I had gotten him to drive across town to confront me about the posters himself, and that meant I was seeding in being a nuisance. Before these two months were up, the bookshop would be far more than just a nuisance. It would be a sessful, thriving business, and he¡¯d have to eat his bet and his smugness both.


    Karli doesn¡¯t ask me about the decision to get the nts, not even as we put them up. She thinks it¡¯s a great idea. I nod, though guilt roils in my stomach at the credit. She still doesn¡¯t know that my one-night stand and the man bound to demolish our business are one and the same.


    I should tell her, but as soon as it dances to the tip of my tongue, I swallow it back down again. It¡¯s a truth I¡¯m having trouble wrapping my head around myself, to be honest.


    Karli is in a great mood for the rest of the day, ever since I offered to call my ountant friend and the nts got delivered.


    My phone ringste that afternoon, my sister¡¯s caller ID on the screen. I groan.


    Karli looks at me sympathetically. ¡°I?¡±


    ¡°Say you¡¯re busy. You¡¯re allowed to be, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I step into the storage room and press answer. My older sister¡¯s voice, chirpy and high, rings out.


    ¡°Oh, Skye, I¡¯m so happy to get a hold of you.¡±


    I always answer, I want to say. Getting a hold of me is never a problem. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°You know the car show Rodney is going to tonight?¡±


    ¡°A car show?¡±Ccontent ? exclusive by N?/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    ¡°Yes. I told you about thisst time we spoke, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    I have to stop myself from sighing. Her new boyfriend seems nice-I¡¯ve only met him twice-but he always has engagements out of town. ¡°It¡¯s tonight?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And I was wondering¡­ It¡¯s just no ce for a kid, you know.¡±


    Trantion-she wants to be alone with her new boyfriend. It was always the same story with I. She would be infatuated with a new guy, or with a new hobby, and I¡¯d be expected to step in as the go-to babysitter or helper.


    ¡°You want me to watch Timmy?¡±


    ¡°Oh, would you? That would be so good of you. You¡¯re really helping me out here.¡±


    Yeah, which was what she had said just two days ago, when she dropped Timmy off without any advance warning.


    ¡°Bring him by whenever. When do you and Rodney n on being home?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know, it might runte.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a school night.¡±


    Her tone sharpens slightly at the clear reproach in mine. ¡°I¡¯ll pack all of his school stuff as well as his overnight stuff, don¡¯t worry. You still have that old pull-out couch in your living room.¡±


    Right. So that means cooking a nutritious dinner, driving him to school in the morning, and making sure he has everything he needs for the day.


    My sister is a nice person. Most of the time, at least. But she doesn¡¯t think, and she never has, and somehow life had let her get away with it.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I say, hating how much of a pushover I¡¯ve always been around her.


    ¡°Perfect!¡± she chirps. ¡°I¡¯ll bring him by around five. To the bookstore?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 17

    She hangs up with a pearlyugh and I¡¯m left staring at the phone in my hand. I love my nephew, and I really enjoy all the time we get to spend together. And the fact that she springs things like this on me-I can handle it, even if I don¡¯t like theck of warning. But I don¡¯t like that she does this to Timmy every time a new guyes on the scene.


    Ist two more hours before the phone number blossoms into an inferno in my pocket and I have to put out the fire. I add Cole¡¯s phone number into my contacts, and under contact name, I write the first thing I think of. Demolisher. And then I send him a quick text.


    Skye Hond: The nts are nice. But please don¡¯t send me a cat next.


    My heart pounding, I slip my phone back into my pocket and tell myself to ignore it, and Cole, entirely. This entire thing is uncharted territory for me. It always had been, even back in that hotel room, despite my pretend-confidence.


    And now, with him as the owner of Porter Development, the rules are muddled even further. We¡¯re not friends. We¡¯re enemies who¡¯ve happened to see each other naked. And that made things a hell of a lot more confusing.


    My phone buzzes nearly immediately.


    Cole Porter: Too bad. I already had a kitten picked out. She¡¯s really fluffy.


    I chuckle, despite myself.


    Skye Hond: Keep her for yourself. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll fit right in in your thousand-square-foot penthouse.


    His answer is immediate again.


    Cole Porter: You¡¯re making assumptions again.


    Skye Hond: Isn¡¯t that what we do best, as people-watchers?


    Cole Porter: Oh, but I¡¯m not a stranger. Haven¡¯t we established that already?


    My cheeks are burning, my stomach tightening. It¡¯s ying with fire, this conversation. Him. The bet. All of it, and still, I keep putting my hand to the me.


    Skye Hond: Thanks for the nts.


    He doesn¡¯t respond for a long time after that, so long that I assume he agreed with me. But then my pocket buzzes again.


    Cole Porter: Is that the closest I¡¯ll get to an apology for vandalizing my properties?


    I can¡¯t help but smile. Oh, he had another thinging if he thought I¡¯d cave this easily.


    Skye Hond: I¡¯ll never apologize for that.


    It¡¯s over a week before I see him again. And yes, I hate that that¡¯s the way I¡¯ve started calcting time. The man is single-handedly responsible for the bookstore¡¯s potential destruction, and still, my traitorous body and my even-more-traitorous eyes love the sight of him.


    Keeping busy helped, though. Karli and I hired Chloe, my old college roommate, to look into our books. More customers areing in by the day, and the time we have in between them, Karli and I spend nning the book reading. Things are changing, and I feel like Karli and I can turn this around, even if it¡¯s with our own optimism as currency.


    Life is busy. And yet, my mind finds ways to circle back around to the memory of Cole Porter. It hits me one evening, alone in Between the Pages, just before closing. Thoughts of his smug smile and the silken growl of his voice.


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°No, no, no. Go away.¡± I turn up the volume on the radio and sing along to a peppy tune, heading to the storage room instead. I grab the box of books I¡¯d bought from the consignment store and I carry it out to the reading room table, my glue gun stacked on top. This should keep both mind and hands busy.


    But then the doorbell jingles, and there he is, as if summoned by my imagination.


    He¡¯s not in a suit today. That¡¯s my first observation, as Cole Porter stands in the doorframe in a button-down and cks. Hands in his pockets, the picture of casual male power. A slow smile spreads across his face as he sees me with my pile of trinkets.


    ¡°An arts and crafts project, Skye?¡±


    I put the box down on the counter. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to look at my investment.¡± His voice is infuriatingly calm. ¡°I did agree to allow this business to continue, incorporated into my building, if you seed.¡±


    I huff a sigh and start piling up the books I¡¯d purchased. They¡¯re pretty, with old spines, but they¡¯d only cost me pennies.


    ¡°If you¡¯re here for a financial checkup, I can¡¯t help you. I can give you the number to our new ountant, though.¡±


    ¡°You took my advice?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say primly. ¡°I suppose something goodes from having a ruthless CEO as our overlord.¡±


    He chuckles and reaches for the glue gun. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen one of these in forever.¡±


    My project feels a bit silly now with him standing here. He¡¯s a business tycoon, and I¡¯m trying to create something that might be Instagram-worthy for our customers.


    ¡°We¡¯re doing great,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ve had a ton of new customers. I think the posters are really working.¡±


    He arches an eyebrow in an infuriating move, hands still in his pockets. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I grab a stack of the books and the glue gun, carrying them to the reading table in one of the adjoining rooms.


    ¡°Do you want the rest of this, too?¡± Cole follows me in, the heavy box lifted high in his arms.


    ¡°On the table.¡±


    He puts it down and starts to sort through the books. ¡°Gulliver¡¯s Travels?¡±


    ¡°A ssic.¡±


    He picks up another. ¡°How to Cook with Lavender, a Step-by-Step Guide. These books look¡­¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°Old? Dated?¡±


    ¡°Completely unseble.¡±


    I search through the photos in my phone, trying to find the inspiration picture I¡¯d chosen. ¡°I know,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re not for sale.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re part of your personal collection?¡± He opens the cookbook, eyes scanning with a doubtful look on his face. ¡°Tell me, how doesvender quiche taste?¡±


    I hold up my phone for him to see. ¡°This is what I¡¯m going to make.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to glue books together in the shape of a heart?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We have a small wall in between the Sci-Fi room and Contemporary Fiction, and right now, it¡¯s just a bunch of shelves. But by putting this there instead, people could look in between the two rooms in the shape of a heart. A bookheart.¡±


    Cole is quiet for a long moment, flipping through another book. I wait for the reproach, the tone of voice that will tell me it¡¯s ridiculous. Like thinking nts or cats will save a failing business.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 18

    I know it¡¯s a long shot. I know things like this are nothing more than fun little quirks. But if I keep pushing, maybe I can make this bookstore as magical for all customers as it is for me. Maybe I can make it a destination, a ce peoplee to take pictures. A ce for book lovers and dreamers.


    But Cole doesn¡¯t say anything disparaging. Instead, I¡¯m treated to the marvelous view of him carefully rolling up his sleeves, one inch at a time, methodical and calm. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°I think you¡¯ll need some help with that, no?¡±


    ¡°You want to help?¡±


    ¡°I know how to use a glue gun.¡± He reaches for it and turns it back and forth. ¡°Well, I think I do. Point and shoot. How hard can it be?¡±


    I should tell him to leave. He¡¯s in the store he¡¯s nning to tear down, looking like a million bucks, and I¡¯m letting him.


    Consistency is key, Skye, and you¡¯re not disying it.


    I choke back my inner logic. ¡°We need to stack them first, I think.¡± I grab a few of the books and start arranging them in a formation. In my head, I know exactly how I want it to look, but actually getting there proves harder.


    Cole feeds me books, one after another, and helps me prop them up on the sides. ¡°Like this?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I nce at him under my side-swept bangs. He looks collected, like he does this all the time. ¡°Why do you want to help? We¡¯re practically enemies,¡± I point out.


    He doesn¡¯t answer, just hands me another book.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°maybe I¡¯m giving myself more significance than I deserve. You¡¯re my enemy, but maybe we¡¯re more like a small obstacle in the way. An annoying mosquito, you know.¡±


    Cole¡¯s lips are twitching again. ¡°You¡¯re not a mosquito.¡±


    ¡°But we are throwing a wrench into your n of world domination.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Yes, you are certainly doing that.¡± He hands me another book.


    ¡°So why help us?¡±


    ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t like winning without a bit of fight,¡± he points out. ¡°Maybe I like winning fair and square. That¡¯s part of the joy of betting.¡±


    I inspect the heart we¡¯ve constructed. It¡¯ll look good surrounded by yet more books. It¡¯ll look like the shelf itself opened up into a heart-shaped window, a nce into a different world.


    ¡°So this is like entertainment for you.¡±


    He plugs the glue gun in. ¡°Sure, if you want to see it that way.¡±


    That makes it easier to understand, then. I lean over and pretend to inspect his forearms. Cole nces down and then back at me, a frown on his forehead.


    ¡°Just looking for scratches.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    His face clears into a grin. ¡°My new cat and I get along very well, I¡¯ll have you know.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Of course. She probably has a butler and two valets.¡±


    ¡°You seem to have a very skewed idea of my life.¡±


    I cock my head and look at him. Cole looks back at me, the picture of smugness itself. This might not be the right time to admit that I¡¯ve been stalking him on the inte. Simply write in Cole Porter and a wealth of information appears. Nearly everything about him is avable at your fingertips.


    How much he¡¯s worth (in the billions). The building influence he¡¯s amassed at such a young age (thirty-four). Theck of a serious partner for years (at least four).


    ¡°I know you have a driver who takes you everywhere.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been paying attention.¡±


    ¡°I saw you arrive here once. You climbed out of the backseat.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more efficient. I can work while I travel.¡± He hands me another book. ¡°The glue gun is hot.¡±


    I reach for it. ¡°Thanks.¡± Time to make permanent decisions.


    ¡°Do you want me to hold the books still?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please¡­¡± We both fall silent in concentration as I glue the base of the book-shaped heart into ce. He helps hold it down, big hands spread across the covers of two discarded books. He has long fingers, tan across the back, with a smattering of hair faint across his knuckles. Those hands had been on my skin. Caressing, smacking, gripping. And his fingers had been inside me.


    I nce away quickly, only to see amusement on his face. He might not be able to read my thoughts, but the flush on my cheeks is clear. ¡°You¡¯re wearing your hair down today,¡± hements. ¡°You normally don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It gets in the way when I work. And you shouldn¡¯t be noticing that.¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°In the way that you¡¯re not noticing my non-existing scratches?¡±


    He¡¯s got me there, and my eyes drift down to the opening in his shirt, where skin beckons. ¡°All right. So I¡¯m not exactly consistent. I think we¡¯ve established that where you¡¯re concerned.¡±


    His grin is back. ¡°I disagree. You¡¯re consistently difficult.¡±


    I reach for another book and glue it, his hands moving effortlessly to help pin it in ce. ¡°You¡¯re a consistent nuisance, too.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been told that in a very long time.¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re surrounded by ass-kissing sycophants? I¡¯ve heard that¡¯s a problem among the powerful. My sympathies.¡±


    Coleughs, and it¡¯s warm and true. I¡¯d meant to poke fun at him, but he¡¯d taken it in stride, and the sound unsettles me. I like it too much. ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m coddled from morning to evening, with no one daring to tell me the truth. It¡¯s how I¡¯ve built a booming business.¡±


    ¡°No. You have to handle critique, or you¡¯ll get nowhere in life.¡± He reaches across and holds the next set of books effortlessly in ce. ¡°Also, excellent use of the word sycophants.¡±


    ¡°I have a degree in English Literature.¡±


    ¡°It shows. Now glue these.¡±


    I follow his advice. We don¡¯t know anything about each other, despite the fact that we¡¯ve seen each other naked. ¡°How did you build yours?¡±


    ¡°My business?¡±


    He smiles, shaking his head. ¡°Are you trying to get more advice out of me to win this bet? You know I¡¯ll give it to you, but it¡¯s a dirty tactic.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± I reach for another book, stacking it on top. ¡°Or maybe I just realized that we actually know very little about one another.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 19

    He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and nods at the heart. ¡°It¡¯s looking good.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re deflecting.¡±


    A sigh. ¡°Well, I started with small business lots. They were old office buildings that no one wanted.¡±


    ¡°Except you.¡±


    ¡°Except me,¡± he agrees, handing me another book to glue in ce.


    ¡°And then you flipped them?¡±


    He snorts, perhaps at myyman term. ¡°Yes. We renovated them, timed it right with the market, and sold for a profit.¡±


    ¡°You make it sound easy,¡± I say. ¡°Did it all fall in line perfectly for you?¡±


    ¡°No. It was a lot of work. We weren¡¯t many working together in the beginning, so it was a lot of long hours.¡±


    I wonder if he still works long hours. He must, to maintain the empire, but he still makes time to sit here and glue books with me. It makes me¡­ well. There must be an ulterior motive somewhere.


    ¡°And then business took off. Going from office buildings to the Reese hotel¡­¡±


    His eyes sh with the memory, but I don¡¯t look away from him, despite my own flushing cheeks. ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°It was a leap. Not everyone believed I could do it.¡±


    ¡°But you did.¡±


    He inclines his head. ¡°Your belief in yourself is all that really matters. Careful, there. It¡¯s toppling to the right.¡±


    He¡¯s right. I straighten the heart and lean back, inspecting it. Nearly done, and I only have a handful of books left. This couldn¡¯t have worked out better if I¡¯d counted them.


    ¡°Your nephew isn¡¯t around tonight,¡± he says. ¡°He¡¯d like this, no?¡±


    I smile. ¡°He would. Anything with building or tools, he loves.¡±


    Cole¡¯s face is unreadable. ¡°You like kids.¡±


    ¡°I do. Pass me that book? No, the red one.¡±


    He hands it to me in silence, and I study him again. He¡¯s being polite, civil. Cordial. So am I. It¡¯s¡­ odd. And nice. And that¡¯s when my suspicion hits with full force.


    ¡°You want a repeat of the night at the hotel,¡± I say.


    Cole¡¯s eyes snap to mine, and I can tell by the sudden fire in them that I¡¯m right. ¡°So what if I do?¡±


    ¡°Were the nts a part of the seduction scheme? The glue gun?¡±


    ¡°Would you take the nts down if I said yes?¡±


    ¡°Then yes, sure, they were.¡±


    I cross my arms over my chest. This doesn¡¯t make sense. That night had been beyond my wildest dreams¡­ exciting, daring, dangerous. Sexy. He¡¯d been fantastic in bed.


    ¡°You¡¯d be risking so much.¡±


    Judging from the faint amusement in his eyes, he¡¯s finding my whole act amusing. ¡°I would?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Sleeping with someone you¡¯ve made a business deal with. Not very professional.¡±


    He hands me another book and nods at the top of the heart. ¡°You¡¯re nearly done, Skye. Don¡¯t stop now.¡±


    I take it from him in an angry movement. This whole conversation, him here¡­ it¡¯s beyond frustrating. I could have a repeat of that night-the night I¡¯d been dreaming about for so long-but only if I was willing to sleep with the enemy. With him.


    Because despite his cut-ss jawline and his casualughter, he will tear down this business if he doesn¡¯t deem it worthy. I¡¯d read enough online about his ruthless business decisions to know that¡¯s true.


    ¡°You¡¯re thest person on earth I would sleep with,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re the reason I might be unemployed in a month and a half.¡±


    Cole supports the bookheart with strong, capable hands. His handsome face is set in clearlyposed lines. He doesn¡¯t look remotely flustered by this conversation. ¡°Everyone in the business will bepensated. You won¡¯t be empty-handed.¡±


    ¡°If I sleep with you.¡±


    His eyes sh to mine, and for the first time since I¡¯ve known him, there¡¯s actual anger in them. ¡°No. Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what you¡¯re suggesting here?¡±Ccontent ? exclusive by N?/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    ¡°No. Fucking hell, no. You¡¯d think that of me?¡±


    I look over at him. His jaw is working, a faint flush spreading up his neck. There was one headline that had stood out in particr when I¡¯d searched his name. Cole Porter sued by former business partner, alleging malpractice over his departure.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to think,¡± I say honestly. This man is effectively a stranger, and I need to remember that. ¡°We don¡¯t know each other very well. And you are trying to tear down the ce I love, Cole.¡±


    ¡°A very unlucky coincidence,¡± he says darkly. ¡°Tell me. The night we spent together at the hotel. Why did you leave me that note? Truthfully?¡±


    Now my cheeks me with the memory. Thanks for the night, stud. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to push it,¡± I say.


    ¡°Push what?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Myself? My luck?¡± I throw up my hands. ¡°I don¡¯t sleep with random men at bars. This is me,¡± I say, sweeping a hand over my casual clothes. ¡°I spend my days here. I¡¯m currently glue-gunning. And you¡¯re¡­ well, you. I knew that even before I found out you owned the whole damn hotel.¡±


    His wolfish grin is back. ¡°I¡¯m thinking of turning Legacy into a chain of bars. All because of you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, God help us.¡±


    ¡°But you enjoyed the night.¡±


    I look up at the ceiling. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t nning on propositioning you like this. You beat me to it. But of course I want a repeat of that night. Don¡¯t you?¡±


    I look at the shelves around us, and force myself to picture Cole in a hard hat, tearing them down one by one. ¡°No.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 20

    ¡°If things were different-if I wasn¡¯t me, and you weren¡¯t you-you wouldn¡¯t want to sleep with me again?¡±


    He¡¯s asking the impossible. I push away from the finished bookheart and stand. Waves of power and raw eroticism are wafting off him, and I don¡¯t know if I want to punch him or pull him close.


    ¡°That¡¯s a hypothetical,¡± I say.


    ¡°Yes. It is.¡±


    ¡°So it doesn¡¯t matter what the answer is.¡±


    He smiles, like I¡¯ve just confirmed something, and I shake my head at him. ¡°Look, it doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s impossible. We¡¯re enemies. Rivals. You¡¯re my nemesis, my least favorite person on earth.¡±


    Cole runs a hand along his jaw, the yful look in his eyes back. ¡°Huh. I can see how that might be a problem, yes.¡±


    ¡°A small one. It¡¯s not personal.¡±


    ¡°Right, of course not.¡± He looks like a million bucks, even in the dim lighting of our bookstore reading room. In a different universe he would be themander of armies, or crowned an Olympic athlete. His smile turns crooked. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°Have I made you speechless? That must be a first, for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± I unplug the glue gun and roll up the cord with brisk movements. ¡°I was just thinking of how to proceed. I think I might install the heart tomorrow. I¡¯ll need some nails, and a hammer.¡±


    Cole opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a finger and cut him off. ¡°And I don¡¯t need any help. No deliveries. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°So independent.¡± He runs a hand along his jaw, looking so arrogant that I can¡¯t help pushing the boundaries.


    ¡°This must be a new experience for you, huh?¡±


    ¡°Glue-gunning? Yes.¡±


    ¡°Women saying no to you,¡± I rify, sitting on the table next to him. ying with fire again.


    ¡°Hmm. You mean that as an insult, but I hear it for thepliment it is.¡±


    Infuriating man. ¡°Tell me, in the spirit of getting to know one another better, is destroying innocent businesses a hobby for you or more of a regr pastime?¡±


    Cole pushes back his chair and stands, forcing me to tilt my head back to see him. ¡°It¡¯s usually just business,¡± he says. ¡°But in this case, it¡¯s definitely more of a hobby. I made an exception for you.¡±


    I grit my teeth. ¡°Destruction is such a clich¨¦, though, for men. You don¡¯t have some weird Napoleonplex, do you?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. If I remember correctly, that would only work if I was either short, or more crudely, below averagely sized.¡± He leans in, the scent of linen and man washing over me. ¡°You know that¡¯s false on both ounts.¡±


    ¡°Why are you really here?¡±


    His eyes narrow. ¡°You¡¯ve already figured that out, Skye.¡±


    ¡°So it was that good for you too, huh,¡± I conclude softly. ¡°You could have any woman you want, and you¡¯re trying to get another night with a lowly bookstore clerk.¡±


    His eyes flit down to my lips. ¡°It was average.¡±


    I scoot closer and watch in triumph as his eyes drift lower, to my body, to where my legs are syed for him to fit between them. ¡°Average, Porter? You wouldn¡¯t be here if you thought it was anything less than fantastic.¡±


    His hand races up my arm, along my jaw, strong fingers tipping my head back. His eyes look nearly ck. ¡°I¡¯ll admit it if you do,¡± he says.


    My knees lock on either side of his waist. ¡°Never.¡±


    He bends to kiss me, but I race to kiss him first, and we collide with a fury. It¡¯s lips and mouths and then, as he slides his tongue against mine, all heat.


    My hands on his neck. His around my waist, pulling me closer.


    I melt against the hard lengths of his body. Images of him in bed rise up, unbidden, behind my eyelids. How his mouth feels on my skin. How his body moves above mine.


    I shiver as he traces his lips down my jaw. A strong hand grips my hair and tilts my head back to give him better ess. My neck is my weak spot. Always has been, and Cole seems to remember.


    I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on as his lips are followed by the soft scratch of his five-o¡¯clock shadow.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± I growl and pull him back up to my lips. He groans into my mouth, his hands dropping to grip my hips.


    I want to get his suit off him. I want to hit him. I want to tear him limb from limb. I want to cry and ask why did it have to be you?


    My hands hover above the buttons on his shirt, undecided. He breaks apart long enough to growl a rough taunt against my lips. ¡°Coward.¡±


    I tug at his hair. ¡°Asshole.¡±


    ¡°Since before I met you.¡±


    His hands grip my thighs and I¡¯m pulled closer, until I feel the hardness of him against me.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± His bruising kiss takes my breath away. It¡¯s not like it was the night we slept together at his hotel. That had been a game, step by step, both of us learning and indulging in our shared passion.


    This is a wildfire. There¡¯s no finesse to my hands on his neck, or his lips on mine. It¡¯s a fight and we¡¯re both aiming for victory.


    I scoot back and flinch as I knock over a pile of books. Cole ignores it, switching his attention to my corbone.


    Books.ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    Bookstore.


    Between the Pages.


    I push at his shoulders. ¡°We can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± He doesn¡¯t stop kissing my neck, and my eyes drift half-closed in response. ¡°We¡¯ve done it before.¡±


    ¡°Not when I knew who you were.¡±


    He pulls back, eyes dark and voice darker still. ¡°You wound me.¡±


    ¡°Hah.¡± I slide off the table, taking a few unstable steps away from him. Fire is still racing in my veins.


    He narrows his eyes, and then casually, like nothing has happened, he reaches up to fix the cor of his shirt. ¡°Always a pleasure, Skye.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 21

    ¡°This changes absolutely nothing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be surprised if it did.¡± He stops next to me, and his hot breath against my ear makes me shiver. ¡°Thanks for rifying a few things.¡±


    I sweep my hair back and try to get my breathing under control. ¡°I detest you.¡±


    ¡°Sure you do.¡± He stops by the door to the bookshop and gives me his trademark smirk, the one I¡¯d found darkly charming that night at his hotel bar. ¡°Just think how good hate sex we¡¯d have.¡± And then he¡¯s gone, and I¡¯m left alone again, heart beating a fiery rhythm in my chest.


    I ignore the burning in my muscles as I finish anotherp in the pool. My shoulders, my arms, my back are all on fire. I¡¯ll have to stretch out the musclester, but for now, the ache is pleasant.


    I¡¯d once read that Olympic swimmers will swim ten to twenty miles a day, just to train. It¡¯s a number I¡¯ve never been able to reach, though most days I tell myself it¡¯s because of ack of time and not ability.


    Swimming gives me time to think. It always has, even when my life runs at a million miles per minute, and all I have is this hour for myself in the water.


    My thoughts today have drifted from the new investment my firm is considering to my little sister and back around again to Between the Pages.


    Because inevitably these days, all my thoughts seem to lead back there, and especially to the bookstore clerk with fire in her veins.


    I should get her out of my mind. She¡¯d realized what I wanted and said no. She¡¯d even outlined why it would be a bad idea. She¡¯d been right, too. It would be unprofessional. Complicated. Messy.


    And yet, the time I spent with her was some of the most fun I¡¯d had in months. Not once had she tried to suck up to me; to drop hints about mary needs or expensive restaurants she wanted to try. The women I¡¯d tried to date in thest few years invariably did, as if I¡¯d be terrible at choosing or if the choices avable to me had narrowed with sess.


    Skye held my sess against me. It¡¯s hard not to smile at the memory of her anger. She¡¯s entitled to it, but the way she argues and fights is¡­ well, it¡¯s admirable. She¡¯s refusing to go down without a fight, and damn it if that doesn¡¯t make me want her more.


    I finally pull myself out of the pool when the giant clock on the wall reads 7:30 a. m. I¡¯ve already overstayed my usual hour in the water.


    Bryan and Tyra are waiting for me when I arrive at the office thirty minutester. They¡¯re the picture ofpetence; Bryan has hisptop under his arm and Tyra a smartphone in each hand. The key to good business strategy, which I¡¯ve been asked a thousand times, is always this; hiring the best of the best. Your business will go absolutely nowhere if you can¡¯t delegate.


    But that¡¯s never the answer business panels and newspapers want to hear. They want me to say things like inner drive and ambition. Either you have it or you don¡¯t. It¡¯s all bullshit.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Tyra says. She hands me a coffee and I take it in stride, sinking into one of the chairs in my office. ¡°The Cowell project is on schedule. They just phoned in theirtest numbers.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Your interview with The Inside Tribune is out today,¡± Bryan says. ¡°Should be circting already. I¡¯ll have a copy of the interview on your desk in an hour.¡±


    ¡°Perfect.¡± I don¡¯t know if I want to read it. Melissa Edwards had asked leading questions, and the story will inevitably be spun in a way I¡¯ll barely recognize.


    Bryan sees my frown. ¡°It¡¯s great for publicity. And what¡¯s great for publicity-¡±


    ¡°Is great for business,¡± I say. ¡°I got it. What else?¡±


    Tyra hands me a thick binder. ¡°The finalized hotel development ns. And, per your instructions, there are two options for the lobby. One that includes Between the Pages, and one that excludes it.¡±


    I thumb through the glossy papers. It¡¯s a document made for investors, not developers, so the graphics look ster. I have to give props to the graphic artist, too, for managing to make the inclusion of the small bookstore work with the ultramodern look of the hotel.


    It doesn¡¯t look bad, but it doesn¡¯t exactly look right, either. I¡¯ll have to schedule a meeting with the head architect for the project.


    ¡°There¡¯s this, too.¡± Bryan hands me a printed invitation to a book reading. It¡¯s well-designed, with the logo of Between the Pages at the top. ¡°It¡¯s tonight. Mrs. Stiller from the bookstore emailed it over to our office.¡± He clears his throat. ¡°I think it¡¯s meant as a joke, or a taunt.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not going down without a fight,¡± Tyra notes. ¡°I doubt it¡¯ll be enough, though.¡±


    My eyes scan through the invite. Seven p. m. All wee. Marks the beginning of our mid-season sale.


    ¡°It was sent to our office email?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Bryan replies. ¡°I was CC:ed.¡±


    In the bottom right corner there¡¯s a small symbol, like a stamp. I have to lean in close to read what it says. Buy local, support yourmunity, say no to big business.


    I want tough.


    Instead, I put the invite on my desk and lean back. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    Bryan and Tyra run through the morning report. I¡¯m listening, but mentally I¡¯m already changing my ns for the evening. There¡¯s a dinner I can easily cancel; I wasn¡¯t the main guest anyway.


    It¡¯s been over a week since Ist spoke to Skye in the bookstore and she called me out on my proposal, and said no. But she¡¯d sent this invite to our office. Karli might have been the sender, but Skye was the instigator-no doubt in my mind.


    Charles drops me off outside Between the Pages a quarter past seven. It¡¯s lit up from the outside; fairy lighting hangs in the window disy.


    I open the door to a crowd. It¡¯s packed in a way I¡¯ve never seen it before, therge reading room table moved to make room for chairs. People are gathered around it in a semicircle, people in all shapes and sizes.


    Karli is sitting in one of the main chairs next to an older woman reading from a red book. I retreat to one of the corners, melting into the crowd, and scan the crowd. The author is reciting a passage about spring, something about seasons and buds and flowers, but I¡¯m looking for a certain bookstore employee.


    I find her in the opposite corner.


    Skye is in a bookstore T-shirt and a flowy skirt, her long hair loose today. It falls in waves down her back and frames her face, currently frowning as she fiddles with a microphone system. There¡¯s a healthy flush to her skin.


    I want to smile. She¡¯s the architect of this whole thing, but of course she¡¯s not on the makeshift stage to take credit next to Karli, but working away behind the scenes.Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    Judging from the crowd, it¡¯s a popr event, too. People are listening in rapt silence. All around us, handwritten sale signs hang over dark-wooden bookshelves. The ce looks spectacr.


    The author finishes her passage with a dramatic pause and the audience erupts into apuse. Karli epts a microphone from Skye, her frown turned into a wide smile now. It makes me want to smile too.


    ¡°Testing, testing,¡± she says, to a fewughs. ¡°All right, we¡¯re back up and running. Many thanks to Nige foring out and sharing her book, The Seasons, with us here today. We¡¯ll be back shortly with a Q&A session-prepare your questions! Please feel free to mingle, look at our sale section, and grab a bite to eat in the meanwhile. Your support means the world to us. Thank you.¡±


    More apuse. I watch as Skye takes the microphone and darts around the shop to the back, returning with a tray overflowing with aperitifs. They¡¯ve really gone all in with this thing.


    I lean against one of the built-in bookshelves and wait for her to notice me. It takes a while, giving me ample opportunity to see the softness in her features as she talks to one customer after another. Her serviceable smile, her pealingughter. I know that¡¯ll be gone the second she sees me.


    And then she finally does, her gaze sweeping across the bookstore but stopping dead when itnds on me.


    I wink at her.


    Her eyebrows rise, and then she¡¯s advancing, hands on her hips. ¡°You came to our book reading?¡±


    ¡°My office received an invitation. It would¡¯ve been rude to decline.¡±


    To my surprise, she gives me a beaming smile. She¡¯s always been beautiful, but with that joy on her face, she¡¯s breathtaking. ¡°Well, I¡¯m d you¡¯re here. Look around-see all these people? Watch it and weep, Porter. Our sales are already uppared tost quarter.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 22

    ¡°Oh, I can imagine.¡± I nod at one of the sale signs. ¡°You took my advice, too. Again, I might add.¡±


    The smile on her face disappears, reced by the challenging expression I¡¯m used to. ¡°I¡¯d be insane not to ept advice from the most eligible billionaire bachelor in Seattle.¡±


    I groan. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you read today¡¯s article too.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. How could I not? You were on the front page.¡±


    I silently curse Melissa Edwards and my PR team for thinking it was a good idea. She¡¯d taken my words and run with them, and I¡¯d barely recognized the man I read about in the article.


    ¡°I was talked into it,¡± I say. ¡°And in my defense, journalists always exaggerate.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying you¡¯re not the most eligible bachelor in Seattle? Why, Cole, if you¡¯re not careful you¡¯lle across humble.¡±


    I give her my trademark smirk. ¡°The title was urate. It was the content that skewed on the ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Well, I thought it was very informative,¡± Skye says, leaning closer. ¡°I hadn¡¯t realized just how ruthless you can be in business.¡±


    The smile on my face freezes as I realize what she¡¯s referring to. The exact passage I¡¯d wanted omitted, about my former business partner and his now-wife. It had ended up in the article anyway, as it always did, because it made for a good story. Cole Porter, asshole extraordinaire.


    Seems it had reached Skye too, not that she needed another reason to dislike me. ¡°Ruthless, efficient,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s all just semantics.¡±


    ¡°It was motivational,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll have to out-ruthless you on this project.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, looking around the packed store, ¡°it looks like it¡¯s working. You¡¯re a worthy opponent, I¡¯ll give you that.¡±


    Skye purses her lips. There¡¯s a feverish look in her eyes, and up close, her flushed skin is pronounced. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re here tonight? Corporate espionage? We still have five weeks left to turn this around.¡±


    ¡°Am I that obvious?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°You should have worn a trench coat and a newspaper with holes in it.¡±


    I nod, ying along, but I¡¯m really just looking at her. There are circles under her eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about that for next time. Have you been organizing this on your own?¡±


    She looks across the room again-at the milling guests, Karli entertaining the author, the te of sandwiches quickly emptying. ¡°No, Karli and I did it together.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. But you made the invitations and flyers, I¡¯m guessing? I appreciated the little addition in the bottom right corner.¡±


    She smiles. ¡°I only added that to your invitation. Not very subtle, I know.¡±


    ¡°Well-yed. Have you had anything to drink?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She frowns. ¡°We¡¯re not serving alcohol.¡±


    ¡°I mean water. You look a bit¡­ are you okay?¡±


    She pushes her hair back behind her ear. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m great.¡± A voice across the room calls her name-¡°Skye!¡±-and she turns from me. Karli is holding the mic up high. ¡°It¡¯s time!¡±


    I watch as Skye sets up the mic system again and hands Karli a set of questions. As the question and answer sessions starts, she¡¯s off again, clearing off the tray of food and talking quietly to customers throughout the store.


    I stay in my corner, out of sight and out of mind, asionally answering emails on my phone. Skye is in the opposite corner, across the crowd, the both of us boxers preparing to square off. She sways slightly on her feet, and as I watch she reaches up to furtively wipe her forehead. She¡¯s clearly not doing very well.


    After the author¡¯s Q&A session is done, Skye heads to the register. The line is long-it curves through nearly the entire store, obviously not equipped for this many people.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I say, pushing my way through throngs of people to reach her. She looks like she¡¯s ready to copse. ¡°Pardon me.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± someone calls. ¡°No cutting in line!¡±


    I raise a hand. ¡°I work here!¡±


    The look Skye sends me is furious. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Let me help.¡± I nod toward the waiting masses, moving to her left side. ¡°You handle the payment, I¡¯ll pack.¡±


    There¡¯s a pause, infinitesimal, where Skye has to decide between her pride and her need. Thetter wins. ¡°Fine,¡± she murmurs, turning to the next customer with a beaming smile.


    ¡°Thanks foring tonight,¡± she says.


    The man gives her an uncertain smile back. ¡°My pleasure. I¡¯ve walked by this shop a thousand times and never gone in. Can¡¯t imagine why.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easy enough to do.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s changing now.¡±


    I hand him the bag of books. Judging from the weight, he really enjoyed Between the Pages¡¯ new sale. ¡°You¡¯re wee back any time. Thanks for your support.¡±


    Skye and I work in tandem, her with payment, me packing. Money is flowing into the register-a much-needed boost to the business. And as the line empties out, so does Skye¡¯s small talk. I nce over only to see her hands shake.


    ¡°Let me,¡± I murmur, but she shakes me off. This close it¡¯s clear she has a fever. Stubborn woman.


    As the door shuts behind the final customer, Skye slumps against the register. ¡°Wow,¡± she breathes. ¡°We¡¯ve never had a line before!¡±


    ¡°Having a sale worked¡±


    She rolls her eyes at me. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know it was technically your idea.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not-¡±


    ¡°Skye!¡± Karli calls, still in the adjoining room together with the author. She hasn¡¯t noticed that I¡¯m here, but she will soon, with the store emptying out. Skye shoots me a conflicted look. Her skin, which had been flushed just an hour ago, is now pallid. ¡°Thanks for helping.¡±


    It¡¯s a clear dismissal, and I know I should leave, but¡­ ¡°You look awful.¡±


    She frowns. ¡°Well, thanks for that too, I suppose.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°No, you look sick.¡±


    ¡°I might have a cold. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 23

    In the other room, Karli offers the author a ride home, her voice carrying across to us. Skye sighs, looking like she¡¯s about to keel over.


    ¡°She¡¯s leaving?¡± I murmur. ¡°You¡¯re to clean up and close shop alone?¡±


    ¡°She has an early parent-teacher conference tomorrow. I offered to handle thete night.¡±


    ¡°Does she know you¡¯re sick?¡±


    ¡°I have the sniffles, and no.¡±


    I cross my arms across my chest. ¡°You can¡¯t do everything alone, Skye.¡±


    ¡°Watch me.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re pulling these numbers, you two should hire-¡±


    ¡°Stop arguing,¡± she says, and with more force than I thought she could muster, she pushes me into the adjacent storage room. ¡°And be quiet.¡±


    In the darkness, I¡¯m standing next to boxes and boxes of books. How much inventory do they have? I lean against a few of the boxes and openly eavesdrop on the conversation on the other side of the curtain.


    ¡°Oh, there you are, Skye! We¡¯re heading out. Thanks for tonight,¡± Karli says. They exchange pleasantries and goodbyes, a door finally closing. The bookstore is quiet once again.


    ¡°I¡¯ming out now,¡± I dere loudly.


    There¡¯s no response. When I emerge, Skye is holding on to the counter with both hands, taking a few deep breaths.


    I¡¯m at her side in seconds. ¡°Skye?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Come on. Have a seat.¡± I wrap an arm around her waist and help her over to a chair in the reading room. The fact that she doesn¡¯t protest tells me everything I need to know about just how sick she is.


    ¡°Let me take you to a doctor.¡±


    ¡°No, no. I just need to finish here and then lie down for a bit.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re burning up.¡±


    She sinks into the chair, boneless. ¡°Mmm. Maybe.¡±


    ¡°How could you not tell Karli this?¡±


    ¡°I needed the event to go well. It had to be a sess,¡± she murmurs, looking around the room with zed eyes. ¡°There¡¯s so much to clear out.¡±


    ¡°Tell me what to do.¡±


    She gives a weakugh. ¡°You¡¯ll help?¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°All right. Well, we need to stack the fold-up chairs. The tes need to be cleared away. I can¡­ I should close the register. I can do that.¡±


    We work in silence. It doesn¡¯t take me long to clear away the chairs and the trash-the bookstore isn¡¯t that big. From the corner, Skye works with painfully slow movements at the register.


    And she¡¯d said that she had a cold. The woman has no instinct for self-preservation. ¡°All right,¡± I say finally, ¡°the ce looks immacte. Can we go now? You need to rest.¡±


    She sways at my side, but doesn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she mumbles. ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±


    I touch her forehead again and her eyes drift closed in response. ¡°You¡¯re cool. Your hand is, I mean. It feels good.¡±


    ¡°Okay, we¡¯re getting you home right away.¡± I help her to the front door. ¡°Do you have your purse?¡±


    She nods, pointing to the bag tucked under her arm. ¡°All set.¡± She¡¯s a warm weight against me, not protesting my supporting arm.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your car?¡±


    She shakes her head but stops abruptly, frowning in pain. ¡°Ow. My head.¡±


    ¡°Do you often get this sick?¡±


    ¡°No. The flu. My nephew had itst week. Must have caught it.¡±


    ¡°Your car?¡±


    ¡°I walked to work today,¡± she says, and I want to curse. Of course she did, and had nned to walk home after she closed up shop,te and in the dark. It¡¯s almost ten.


    She takes a step away from me and sways, but stays on her feet, fumbling with the sp of her bag. ¡°I¡¯ll call a taxi,¡± she mumbles. ¡°I can get home. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°No way am I putting you in a taxi right now. Tell me your address, and we¡¯ll get you home, and tomorrow you¡¯re going to a hospital.¡± I wrap my left arm around her and use my right to dial Charles.


    ¡°We¡¯re ready.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in five,¡± he says, hanging up.


    Skye shivers beside me, despite thete summer warmth and her high temperature. ¡°Who did you call?¡±


    ¡°My driver. Will you tell me your address?¡±


    Skye looks up at me, but her eyes aren¡¯t narrowed in suspicion or her usual challenge. There¡¯s gratefulness there instead and something else, a bone-deep tiredness. ¡°14 Fairfield Point. It¡¯s close.¡±


    By the time we get into the backseat of my car, Skye has her eyes closed and her head back against the seat.


    Charles shoots me a look in the mirror. ¡°Everything OK, sir?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s sick. I¡¯ll give Dr. Johnson a call. Hopefully you can pick him up after you drop us off.¡±


    Skye doesn¡¯t protest-she¡¯s no longer listening to our conversation. It¡¯s not a good sign for someone who always wants to have thest word.


    I call Dr. Johnson and keep an eye on her the entire car ride. It¡¯ste, but he says yes. He always does for me or my family.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 24

    ¡°Come on,¡± I tell Skye as we slide to a stop. ¡°Time to get out.¡±


    She makes a valiant effort at opening the door but it barely budges, her arms weak with fever. Charles is there an instantter and she shoots him a delirious smile. ¡°Thanks, Cole,¡± she mumbles.


    Charles gives me a look that is more concerned than amused. With his graying hair and mustache, we look nothing alike. ¡°I¡¯ll head to Dr. Johnson¡¯s right away.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡±


    I wrap my arm around Skye and take her purse from her dangerouslyx grip. She doesn¡¯t protest as I help her unlock her front door, or as we walk the flight of stairs up to her apartment.


    I push her door open as soon as she unlocks it. ¡°God,¡± she breathes. ¡°Finally home.¡±


    And then she does something I don¡¯t expect.


    She faints.


    I catch her before she sails to the floor, my arms under her in a heartbeat. Her body is limp and far too hot as I carry her into the small apartment and kick the door closed behind me.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± I tell her, not that she¡¯s listening anymore. ¡°And you didn¡¯t want a doctor?¡±


    I find her bedroom,ying her down gently on the queen-sized bed. Taking a seat next to her, I touch both her forehead and her wrist. Fainting is one thing, but being unconscious is quite another.


    ¡°Skye?¡± I ask. ¡°Can you hear me?¡±


    Her eyes blink open. They struggle to focus, finallynding on my face. ¡°Hey,¡± she says weakly. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±Ccontent ? exclusive by N?/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    I want tough in relief. Instead, I pull my hand from hers and start untying theces of her shoes.


    ¡°You¡¯re sick.¡±


    She covers her face. ¡°So that¡¯s why I feel awful.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I get both of her shoes off and she immediately turns over, snuggling deeper into bed. With one hand she searches for theforter and I help pull it up and over her. Her eyes drift closed.


    As she rests, I explore the rest of her apartment. It¡¯s not hard to find a tall ss of water or a small towel from her bathroom, which I run under the faucet. I gently put it on her too-hot forehead.


    She sighs a breath of relief. ¡°That¡¯s good. Very good.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m d.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°This.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± I say. ¡°We all get sick. No fault of yours.¡±


    Her hand flits over my arm, down to my sleeve, her fingers gripping the fabric. ¡°Will you stay? Just for a little bit?¡±


    I take her hand in mine. ¡°Of course I will,¡± I say, finding that I don¡¯t mind the prospect. Not at all.


    I dream the most absurd things.


    Vivid colors and swirling images of faces. I see Karli and Timmy and my sister I. I see my mom. I see Cole, and whenever his face drifts into view, he¡¯s wearing a concerned frown. He¡¯s usually smirking, so I know it¡¯s a dream.


    I dream that there¡¯s a strange man in my apartment, too. Cole lets him in, even when I beg him not to.


    ¡°It¡¯s the doctor,¡± he tells me in a voice that brooks no arguments. Even convinced he¡¯s a dream, I don¡¯t argue.


    The face of an older man with a kind smile swims in front of me. ¡°Hello,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m Dr. Johnson. I¡¯ve been told you think you have the flu.¡±


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Hot.¡±


    He opens his bag and then I¡¯m poked and prodded, my temperature taken and heartbeat listened to. I close my eyes gratefully when he¡¯s done, seeking the blissful half-dream again.


    ¡°She¡¯s running on one hundred and four. No wonder she fainted.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s been pushing herself very hard with work,¡± Cole adds, but he doesn¡¯t add that he¡¯s the reason I have to. I consider pointing it out, but my tongue feels heavy.


    The doctor puts a hand on my forehead. ¡°How¡¯s your head doing?¡±


    ¡°It hurts like hell,¡± I mumble. ¡°Except there¡¯s no Virgil to show me around. It¡¯s not nearly as nice as Dante¡¯s.¡±


    Cole¡¯s voice is exasperated. ¡°She¡¯s an English Literature graduate.¡±


    They head into my living room to talk, their voices hushed. It¡¯s draining to try to listen. It¡¯s not long until I¡¯m fighting a losing battle with my eyelids.


    ¡°She needs rest and a lot of fluids.¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t take her to the hospital?¡±


    ¡°Not for a flu. If it gets worse, call me. And I want her to take these. Two pills every four hours.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°Does she have someone you can call? Can you stay here overnight? She shouldn¡¯t be alone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay,¡± Cole says.


    ¡°If her throat starts feeling sore, make her some tea. Keep the cold towel on her forehead. I¡¯ll leave this thermometer with you-call me if she¡¯s running one hundred and four for more than a couple of hours.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    There¡¯s more talk that I don¡¯t catch, and a door closes. I snuggle deeper into my bed and lose the fight with my eyelids. Every piece of my body is exhausted.


    Cold hands put the wet towel on my forehead back into ce. It feels divine. ¡°Thanks,¡± I murmur.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 25

    ¡°Anytime, Hond.¡±


    It¡¯s thest thing I hear for quite some time.


    I wake up to a strong hand on my shoulder and something cold pressed to my lips. ¡°Skye, I need you to swallow. Two pills, that¡¯s all.¡±


    The room is dark and I have to blink a few times for things toe into view. Cole is sitting beside me.


    ¡°Come on.¡±


    I open my mouth like a toddler and he pops two pills in my mouth. I reach for the ss of water he hands me, and he helps support me as I drink. I¡¯m breathless by the time I finish and copse against the pillows again.


    ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± I say.


    ¡°Still Cole,st time I checked.¡±


    I want tough, but all thates out is a low wheeze. My throat hurts.


    I try to roll over, but my jeans snag ufortably. I¡¯m still in my work clothes. High-waisted pants.


    ¡°Ugh. Off, off, off.¡± I toss back the covers and try to get the button undone. My fingers tremble with the effort.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help you.¡± Cole¡¯s hands are cool and strong around mine. He finds the button and zipper in seconds and helps pull the skintight jeans down my legs.


    His hands stop at my ankles. ¡°Socks on or off?¡±


    ¡°Off,¡± I groan. ¡°I¡¯m so warm.¡±


    He tugs it all off and I feel about a thousand times better once they¡¯re off my skin. I feel likeughing, seeing thisrge, well-dressed man at the edge of my messy bed, in my small bedroom, taking off clothes. It¡¯s ridiculous. It must be another one of my fever-induced dreams.


    A whileter, I blink my eyes awake to another coldpress against my forehead. ¡°Skye, is there someone you want me to call?¡±


    I smile at the male voice. It really is a lovely voice, all deep and powerful. ¡°Nope,¡± I say. ¡°No one at all.¡±


    ¡°Your sister?¡±


    Another wheezyugh. ¡°Noooo. She wouldn¡¯t care.¡±


    The beautiful voice is silent, and I snuggle into my pillow again. It¡¯s fluffy like a cloud. My entire bed is. It¡¯s the best bed in the world.


    ¡°I find that hard to believe,¡± the voice says, and I don¡¯t know why or what it¡¯s referring to.


    ¡°Your voice is lovely,¡± I mumble. ¡°Great voice. Excellent.¡±


    The next time I hear it, it sounds amused. I should know the person it belongs to, but I can¡¯t for the life of me remember who it is.


    ¡°You¡¯re delirious with fever.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t know how to take apliment, Mr. Voice.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just not very used to them from you.¡±


    I open my eyes and peer to the other side of the bed, but I can¡¯t make anything out in the darkness. ¡°That¡¯s stupid. I love to givepliments. I give them to my friends all the time.¡±


    The bed dips, and then arge, cool hand curves around my forehead. I lean into it. ¡°You have great hands, too.¡±


    A masculine snort. ¡°Yes, you definitely still have a fever. It should break soon.¡±


    I don¡¯t want to talk about fevers or sickness. I fumble blindly for his wrist and keep his hand glued to my forehead, to where his skin is cool and just a little rough. It feels like heaven.


    ¡°This is nice,¡± I breathe.


    He snorts again. ¡°d you¡¯re enjoying yourself.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re friends, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    The voice is quiet again, and for much longer this time. Figuring he won¡¯t answer, I content myself in stroking the skin of his wrist and relishing in the feel of his hand on my forehead.


    ¡°Well,¡± he says finally, ¡°I¡¯d like to be.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± I breathe. Having this voice in my life forever seems like a first-ce prize.


    Heughs, the voice washing over my feverish senses like a cool wave. ¡°I wish you¡¯d remember that when you¡¯re no longer feverish.¡±


    ¡°Of course I will.¡± My hands w up his arm, up his sleeve, until I find the very solid chest of the man the voice belongs to. It¡¯s like steel beneath my hands. I feel too weak to explore it, which must be one of life¡¯s cruel jokes. Deliver me a delicious man in bed and render me too weak to take advantage of him.


    He lets me examine in silence, until finally, his hands capture mine. ¡°Sleep, Skye.¡±


    ¡°Mhm. Okay.¡± It does feel good to rx against the pillows again, and darkness beckons. But there¡¯s something I need to know first. A memory that shed through my pounding head, clues that my tired brain puzzled together with the voice and the hard chest. ¡°Hey. We¡¯ve slept together, right?¡±


    He gives a low, darkugh, and I want to bottle it so I can have it on demand. ¡°Yes, we have. Weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°Mhm. I remember.¡± I turn over so I¡¯m closer to the voice. ¡°I think about it aaaall the time.¡±


    Brief silence. ¡°You do?¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    I don¡¯t see why he seems surprised. Even in my fever-addled brain, I know the memory is one of my favorites to revisit.


    ¡°Best sex of my life,¡± I mumble.


    A hand flits across my hair, smoothing. ¡°You¡¯ll really hate yourself for saying thatter. And me, for being here to listen.¡±


    I try tough and break into a cough instead. He¡¯s there, pushing me up to sitting and handing me a ss of water. When I can breathe again, I copse against the pillows in a worthless, energy-less heap.


    His voice is thest thing I hear. ¡°I think about it too,¡± he says quietly. ¡°All the time.¡±


    I blink my eyes open to faint sunlight streaming in through my curtains. My head feels like it¡¯s made of lead bricks, my mouth cloudy. Ugh.


    A coldpress slips from my head to the bed beside me. Somethingrge moves and I startle in response.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 26

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s just me.¡± Cole is sitting up against my headboard, a book in his hand. There are circles under his eyes.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I whisper.


    He reaches over and puts a hand on my forehead without hesitation, like he touches me all the time. He must have, during the night. I remember fever and sweat and whispered conversations in the dark.


    I close my eyes at the feeling of his skin against mine. ¡°Much better,¡± he deres. ¡°I think your fever broke a couple of hours ago.¡±


    I nce over at the clock on my nightstand. 6:50 a. m.


    I sit up with a jolt and immediately groan. Everything hurts. Pain shoots up my neck and my head, and there are sharp pains in my joints. If this is the flu, it¡¯s the worst bout I¡¯ve ever had.


    ¡°Woah.¡± Cole¡¯s arms cradle me as I sink back into the pillows. He fluffs one of them for me. ¡°Steady there, tiger.¡±


    ¡°I have to get to work.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not, you don¡¯t.¡±Ccontent ? exclusive by N?/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    ¡°Between the Pages¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve texted Karli from your phone and let her know that you¡¯re taking a sick day.¡± His voice is firm and I reluctantly rx back into the pillows.


    There¡¯s so much to be done, and there¡¯s no one to cover for me, but even I have to admit that I¡¯m not up for it. My head is still pounding from my feeble attempt at sitting up.


    Cole¡¯s hands push my hair back and out of my face. ¡°I thought I¡¯d be assaulted for making that decision for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m taking a day off fighting.¡±


    He puts the book down. ¡°Finally.¡±


    I take a few deep, steadying breaths, and gradually the pain in my head abates. I turn on my side and look at him.


    He¡¯s still in his cks and sweater, but he¡¯s taken off his shoes, his sock-d feet looking big and vulnerable at the end of my bed. Rumpled hair. Tired eyes.


    ¡°What are you reading?¡±


    He shows me the cover. ¡°Agatha Christie. I realized I¡¯ve never actually read anything by her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a ssic.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve been told.¡± He sweeps a hand out toward the other side of my bedroom, where books are stacked high. ¡°You really are a bookstore clerk, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Mhm. And a failed writer.¡±


    His eyebrows rise, and I know I shouldn¡¯t have said that, but there¡¯s no energy in me to fight right now. All I want is to lie in this bed forever, my eyes closed, makingzy conversation until this flu passes.


    He scoots down until his head is on one of the pillows. ¡°You said you were a writer when we met.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t published a book, though.¡±


    Cole looks thoughtful. ¡°Isn¡¯t it quite rare to have published a book by your age?¡± He nods at the stacks of books that line my wall. I don¡¯t even have a shelf. ¡°Name any one of those writers who were published by twenty-six.¡±


    ¡°Dostoevsky,¡± I say. ¡°Bram Stoker. And¡­ mhm, David Foster Wace.¡±


    He smiles wryly. ¡°You have to outsmart me at every turn, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of my thing.¡±


    ¡°All right, but can you at least admit that they¡¯re outliers?¡±


    I sigh. Thest thing I want to talk about is my own inadequacies. ¡°Yes. Like a thirty-four-year-old billionaire developer.¡±


    Cole grimaces. ¡°People like to remind me of that.¡±


    I curl up on my side and ignore the protest of my sore throat, annoyed that I¡¯m talking. ¡°Tell me about it.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡± He looks the leastposed I¡¯ve ever seen him, and I decide that this is the Cole Porter I would be able to like, if we weren¡¯t enemies.


    ¡°About people reminding you about your sess all the time. It must be exhausting.¡±


    Cole gives me a crooked smile. ¡°I can¡¯t tell if this is a trick or not. I¡¯llin, and then you¡¯ll tell me I¡¯m not part of the oppressed ss.¡±


    I blink at him. ¡°No. No, I won¡¯t. I¡¯m genuinely curious.¡±


    He lies down on his side, so we¡¯re facing each other in the dim morning light of my bedroom.


    It feels surreal, having him here. ¡°You must be invited everywhere,¡± I say. ¡°To everything. Even events you have no interest in attending.¡±


    His smile is self-mocking. ¡°All the time.¡±


    ¡°By people you don¡¯t know as well, right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± he says. ¡°I showed up to a few things in the beginning before I realized I¡¯m just invited like a trophy.¡±


    That strikes me as profoundly sad, and I tell him that, but he justughs. ¡°Not really. It¡¯s a nice problem to have.¡±


    ¡°I suppose. I¡¯m not invited to a lot of things. But when I am, I always go.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you do.¡±


    ¡°The newspaper spread about you that I read yesterday. No, don¡¯t groan! I have a very serious question about it.¡±


    His smile is gone, a sudden seriousness there instead. ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Do you save all articles published about yourself? Do you keep a binder? I would, if it was me.¡±


    His lips twitch. ¡°You¡¯re cute when you¡¯re feverish.¡±


    ¡°Ugh.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 27

    ¡°You don¡¯t like being called cute?¡±


    ¡°Not by you. Not at the moment, at least.¡± If anything, I want him to think of me as sexy or sensual. Irresistible. The things he¡¯d said to me that first night in the hotel. At the moment, I feel about as cute as a potato, unwashed and sweaty.


    ¡°Noted.¡± Cole turns over on his back and stares up at the ceiling. ¡°My mother saved all the newspaper articles when they first began. I don¡¯t know if she still does.¡±


    ¡°I guarantee you she does.¡±


    He smiles, and it¡¯s a soft, private one. ¡°Probably. I should ask her.¡±


    I rise up on an elbow, suddenly distraught by this new version of Cole Porter, the one taking care of me when I¡¯m sick and who answers my questions in a deep, soft voice.


    Somehow, we¡¯re in an alternate universe.


    ¡°You stayed. All night. Why?¡±


    He nces over at me with narrowed eyes. ¡°You were seconds from copsingst night. You fainted.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember a doctor being here?¡±


    ¡°Mmm. Faintly. You called someone?¡±


    He nods. ¡°And I¡¯ve already checked in with him this morning. You¡¯re prescribed bed rest, lots and lots of fluids, and more of the pills on your bedside table.¡±


    I¡¯m speechless for a bit. My head is still spinning, and I close my eyes against the light of day. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°How do you feel now?¡±


    ¡°Better. Compared tost night, I mean. Whoa.¡±


    He reaches over and fluffs my pillow. ¡°I¡¯m surprised,¡± he says.


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d be chased out the second you woke up without a fever. You know, being your number-one enemy and all.¡±


    I want tough, but all I can manage is a smile. ¡°No energy,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s a strategic retreat.¡±


    ¡°A truce,¡± he corrects.


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s nice,¡± I murmur, turning over again. Sleep is already trying to reim me and there is no point in fighting it. I don¡¯t have the power to.


    Thest thing I hear is a cell phone ringing and Cole¡¯s faint curse before he answers it. His footsteps retreat in the apartment, but one sentence reaches me. Cancel my meetings.


    And then I¡¯m lost again.


    I¡¯m disgusting.


    It¡¯s the first thing I feel when I wake up again. The clock on my night table reads eleven a. m. My eyes feel like they¡¯ve been glued together, my hair a mess, and my mouth tastes like copper.


    The bedsheets, my own T-shirt¡­ I¡¯ve sweated all night long.


    I need a shower.


    I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit for a while, catching my breath. I¡¯m in panties and a T-shirt, and that¡¯s all.


    Cole.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    He must have helped me off with my pants, and my shoes, and¡­ he¡¯d stayed. Called a doctor. Cancelled his meetings. The ground shifts beneath my feet. No, Skye, I tell myself, andpartmentalize that somewhere far away. I can¡¯t process that right now. One thing at a time. Shower first. Contemte enemy¡¯s kindness second.


    My bedroom door is open and there¡¯s a voice from the living room. Cole¡¯s talking to someone on the phone.


    ¡°No,¡± I hear him say. ¡°Absolutely not. I know it¡¯s your life-don¡¯t go there, ir-but if you¡¯re asking for my permission, it¡¯s no.¡±


    I¡¯m too intrigued to stop listening, so I inch closer to the open door. Whoever is on the line talks for a very long time.


    Cole sighs. ¡°Of course I want you to be happy. What kind of question is that?¡±


    I¡¯m eavesdropping. Snooping, really. And yet I can¡¯t find it in myself to move away.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says finally. ¡°I¡¯ll see you on Sunday. We can talk more then.¡±


    His voice drifts closer and I scoot back in bed just in time. Cole¡¯s eyebrows rise when he sees I¡¯m awake. He leans against the door post, still in the same clothes asst night.


    ¡°You¡¯re up.¡±


    He shes his phone. ¡°Did I wake you?¡±


    ¡°No, no. Not at all.¡±


    I nod as well, but I have no idea what to say. He stayed. It¡¯s nearly midday, and he¡¯s still here, postponing world domination.


    ¡°Better. Thirsty. In desperate need of a shower.¡±


    He gives me a crooked smile. ¡°Hungry?¡±


    ¡°A bit, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Go have a shower. I¡¯ll fix you something to eat.¡±


    I¡¯m too stunned to protest. ¡°All right.¡± I head to the bathroom and hear him grab my keys from my hall side table, my front door clicking closed behind him.


    Wow.


    I feel weak as amb as I strip off my soaked T-shirt and slide my underwear off. The shower is marvelously uplicated. I shower with cold water, enough to cool my hot skin, before turning it back to hot and soothing my aching muscles.


    I stare at my nice, expensive shampoo and conditioner, and they stare back at me. Do I have the energy?

 Billion Dollar Enemy 28

    It feels like it takes all the willpower I possess, but I squeeze out a dollop of shampoo and start to massage my painful scalp. Everything hurts, but the smell of my products helps. Caramel and florals.


    I emerge from the shower five years younger and about a hundred times fresher. Looking into the mirror, my cheeks are flushed and my eyes are shiny.


    ¡°Damn.¡± I look as sick as I feel. I think of all the things I probably said to Colest night. Of the fact that he showed up to the book reading, answering the invitation we¡¯d sent to his office in person. It was meant to be a victory statement. Look at us doing well! And instead, he¡¯d gotten another night in bed with me, but without any of the benefits. Had he stayed out of kindness? Out of pity? Out of interest? I don¡¯t know which option scares me the most.


    I wrap myself in thergest towel I own and crack open the bathroom door. The coast seems clear, and I hurry across the living room.


    My couch looks slept on. There¡¯s a coffee cup on the table. Guilt and embarrassment knot together in my stomach. ¡°Save Between the Pages,¡± I murmur to myself. ¡°That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    I¡¯m half-dressed when I hear the front door opening. Hurriedly, I pull on an oversized T-shirt and grab a sweater from a drawer. There¡¯s nothing sexy about me right now. The woman he met at the hotel bar-the woman who knew what she wanted and didn¡¯t hesitate in going after it-feels a million miles away.


    ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± he calls.


    I push the bedroom door open. He¡¯s unpacking a massive bag of groceries on my kitchen table. A carton of orange juice. A loaf of bread. Peanut butter. Jam. Apples.


    ¡°Woah.¡±


    ¡°Your fridge is practically empty. I got you a bit of everything from the convenience store next door.¡± He runs a hand through his thick hair, now a mess. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I went food shopping.¡±


    He means it, too.


    I step closer. He got a packet of cookies and a chocte bar. Arge bottle of lemonade. A box of Advil. It¡¯s the ultimate stay-at-home-sick day package.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    He takes a step back and nods at me. ¡°Sure, sure.¡±


    I pick up the packet of cookies, mostly to have something to do. ¡°White chocte chip?¡±


    ¡°Ate them a lot growing up.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to miss work for this. I didn¡¯t mean¡­ you didn¡¯t have to, you know.¡±


    His lip curls into a half-smile. ¡°I know. But then, you told me you didn¡¯t have anyone to call.¡±


    I turn away from him to hide the embarrassment on my face. Awesome, Skye. What other painful things did I tell him?


    He nces down at his watch. He must be itching to get away, and here I am, pitiable and keeping him from his work. ¡°Well,¡± I say. ¡°Thanks for making sure your opponent remained in good shape.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Does this mean the truce is over?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m considering it. I have a meeting scheduled with my advisorster today.¡±


    He smiles at myme joke, but I think it¡¯s more out of pity than humor. ¡°You have the day off,¡± he says. ¡°We spoke about that this morning. Do you remember?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I do.¡±


    He takes a step toward the front door, like he¡¯s already itching to get away. ¡°Good.¡±


    Courage, Skye.


    ¡°Look,¡± I start. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry aboutst night. About¡­ this. Thanks for staying. I didn¡¯t mean to put that on you.¡±


    He cocks his head to the side, and despite theck of sleep, theck of a shower, he still looks like something out of a catalogue. It¡¯s not fair. ¡°I didn¡¯t mind,¡± he says.


    ¡°I know your time is valuable. Anyway, I just wanted to say that. And that I¡¯d appreciate it if this didn¡¯t affect our professional rtionship.¡±


    ¡°Our professional rtionship,¡± he repeats, all trace of humor gone from his face.


    ¡°Yeah. Between the Pages. The two-month deal.¡± I swallow down the lump that seems to form when I think about the bookstore closing.


    ¡°It won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I¡¯m nodding like a deranged person, wrapping my arms tighter around my chest.


    ¡°Like you said, I had to ensure my opponent was in good shape.¡±


    I nod again. He¡¯s said several times that he enjoys winning against someone who puts up a fight. I can oblige with putting up a fight, that¡¯s for sure, but not with letting him win. ¡°And you did. You could be a nurse. If your empire fails, I mean. Something to fall back on.¡±


    He grabs his phone from the hallway table and slips it roughly into one of his pockets. That¡¯s all he had with him, I realize. ¡°Excellent advice.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    I rub my neck. ¡°Yeah. Well¡­¡±


    ¡°See you around, Skye.¡±


    ¡°Bye,¡± I whisper, but he¡¯s already out the door.


    I sink onto the couch and cover my face. Damn. I got what I wanted, and still, I feel like we¡¯ve just had an argument. And we hardly even know each other.


    Through my syed fingers, I peek out at my apartment. He was here. He saw the mobile of crystals that my entric mother made me a few years ago and insists I keep hung for good vibes. He saw my overflowingundry hamper. The bodice ripper I¡¯m currently reading, very incriminatingly lying on my bedside table.


    It was nice of him to stay. At the same time, he¡¯s trying to destroy the store. So why do I feel like I was rude in sending him away?


    I bury myself under nkets, munching on a white chocte chip cookie that I fear will now always remind me of Cole Porter, when my phone vibrates.


    It¡¯s him.


    Cole Porter: These are Dr. Johnson¡¯s contact details. He¡¯s been informed that you¡¯re better, but if you take a turn for the worse, contact him immediately.


    The doctor, whom Cole arranged to make ate home visit. Something twists inside me, and this time it¡¯s not pain or sore muscles or even embarrassment. It¡¯s guilt at my rudeness.


    And beneath it, something far more dangerous.


    Feelings.


    It takes me two days to rest and get better. Two whole days of being weak, of climbing on the walls, of sleeping fourteen hours a night. It¡¯s a pause in work that neither Karli nor I can afford, not when we¡¯re working against the clock.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 29

    She onlyughs on the phone when I point this out, on my second day of sick leave. ¡°Skye, you¡¯re sick. Take the time for yourself.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°No buts!¡± Her voice softens. ¡°Look, I know what this ce means to you. It¡¯s the same for me. But we¡¯re not going to run ourselves so ragged that we get sick in trying to keep it afloat. Eleanor wouldn¡¯t have wanted that.¡±


    I slump on the couch at her admonition. Eleanor, who had been Karli¡¯s grandmother, but had never wanted to be called anything but her name. It¡¯ll age me, honey, I¡¯d heard her say more than once.


    Eleanor, who had always cheered on my dream of being a writer, even when my own family didn¡¯t understand it. I missed her so much it ached, sometimes.


    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°Besides, we¡¯re still on a high from the book reading. Thirty-four individual purchases in one evening. Can you believe it?¡±


    ¡°Hardly.¡± I stretch my legs out on the couch. ¡°Did you get a call back from Chloe?¡±


    ¡°Yes, she agreed to be our new ountant! I¡¯ve sent her all the reports on our finances today. So far it¡¯s looking fairly good, I think. We¡¯re not profitable yet, not¡­ not in the way Porter Development wants. But we¡¯re getting there.¡±


    Something in me squeezes painfully tight at the words Porter Development. It¡¯s confusion, and anger, and something else I can¡¯t quite name. ¡°Awesome,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll be back tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°You sure?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I already feel a lot better. I¡¯m creating an Instagram profile now, for Between the Pages.¡±


    ¡°Skye! You should be resting!¡±


    I smile at her concern. ¡°I will be. Soon. I promise.¡±


    Karli is a good friend. I lie back on the couch, my head spinning faintly, and stare at the cracked ster that runs through my ceiling. She¡¯s been with me through thick and thin. A sister, even if she isn¡¯t one by blood.


    The contrast with my sister I is too clear. When she¡¯d called yesterday and asked me to babysit Timmy, and I told her I was sick, she harrumphed and told me to get better soon. We all need you, she had told me sweetly, the subtext all too clear.


    Karli isn¡¯t like that. Nor, it seems, is Cole.


    The CEO and owner of Porter Development had been here, earlier this week, putting coldpresses on my feverish forehead all night. Cancel my meetings, he¡¯d said on the phone. He¡¯d seen me at my weakest. And, my vain heart is quick to point out, at my decidedly most unattractive. I¡¯m not sure what to make of that.


    One thing is clear, at least. He might be trying to tear down the bookstore, but I can no longer conveniently pretend that he¡¯s a bad person to boot. I stare up at the ceiling and let the realization flood through me.


    It doesn¡¯t change much, in the end. We¡¯re still at odds, firmly in opposite camps on an issue, and we haven¡¯t spoken since he left my apartment a few days ago. Don¡¯t overthink it, I tell myself, and open our text conversation. Thest thing I sent was a in thank-you after he gave me the doctor¡¯s details.


    Skye Hond: Here¡¯s Between the Pages¡¯ new Instagram page, in case you want to follow our rise to the top more closely.


    Silly.


    I regret it almost immediately after I send it, despite the rush of adrenaline pulsing through my veins. I want him, and I want him to not be who he is-the developer trying to destroy my job and my friend¡¯s store-and I can¡¯t reconcile those two things.


    An hour passes without a response. I take a shower. Open the manuscript I¡¯m trying, and failing, to write.


    When I get a text, it¡¯s from Mom, who wonders if I¡¯lle by for dinner on Saturday and to please bring I and Timmy along. I want to sigh. Rare are the times she wants to have dinner just to hang out, but I type an obliging of course and forward the details to I.


    My phone finally buzzes with the response I want.


    Cole Porter: d to see you¡¯ve finally hired a PR consultant. Those twenty-seven followers will really help you.


    I roll my eyes at the response.


    Skye Hond: You forgot your thermometer at mine. I was going to return it, but now I think I¡¯ll keep it.


    Cole Porter: Oh no. That was my favorite one.


    Skye Hond: Really? It¡¯s not even gold-ted.


    Cole Porter: The horror. Do you feel better?


    I blink at my screen for a few seconds. Before I can type a response, another message from him pops up.Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    Cole Porter: I¡¯d hate for my main opponent to be benched. Makes winning less special.


    Skye Hond: Restored to perfect health, thank you. Maybe I was just allergic to you?


    Cole Porter: We both know that¡¯s not true.


    Yes, I think. We both do.


    Something uneasy rolls through me. It¡¯s not guilt, exactly, but it¡¯s close. He¡¯d gone out of his way at the book reading, showing up initially to check on our progress, but staying and helping.


    Three things I remember clearly.


    1) The way his body felt against mine.


    2) The reason I went to the hotel bar in the first ce, all those weeks ago. It had been to live. To push boundaries. To be reckless.


    3) The kiss we shared in the bookstore a week ago.


    He¡¯d admitted that he wanted to sleep with me again. That he wanted a repeat of the night at the hotel, when we¡¯d spent the entire night doing¡­ well. My cheeks flush at the memory. It had been more animalistic and honest and open than any sex I¡¯d had with previous boyfriends. No limits, fullmunication, and Cole¡¯s sly smile put to good use.


    Maybe it¡¯s time to be reckless again. I nce over at where myptop sits, innocent-looking, on my coffee table. When I¡¯d told my sister I¡¯d started writing a novel, months ago, she¡¯d chuckled. What do you have to write about, Skye? she¡¯d asked, before seeing the look on my face. Oh, I¡¯m sorry! I didn¡¯t mean it like that.


    But she had.


    And the worst part is, she was right. I¡¯m twenty-six. I¡¯ve lived my whole life-including my college years-in the same city. My group of friends are scattered, my job limited to stacking books. A major in English Literature and a minor in Creative Writing isn¡¯t necessary for that.


    It¡¯s not afortable thought. I turn over on the couch, seeking another of the blissful naps I¡¯ve been taking all day, but this time it takes a long time for sleep to im me.


    I feel a lot better the next day. So much better, in fact, that I¡¯m back at the bookstore fifteen minutes before my shift starts. Karliughs at me.


    ¡°So eager, huh?¡±


    I shoot her a blinding smile and get right to work. Customers filter in and out, and I give them all my new, invigorated smile. Four weeks are gone, and we have four weeks left before the deadline is up.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 30

    A quick nce around the bookstore reveals all the changes that have happened. The nts, the bookheart window embedded in the wall. The sale signs. It¡¯s true that we¡¯re going through parts of our inventory quicker than before.


    Karli leaves two hours before closing, and I¡¯m left with my thoughts, the radio, and the book I¡¯m currently stacking.


    It¡¯s a ssic. We sell a ton of these every start of the new school year. The author is male, famous for his cross attitude and sparse writing. He smoked cigars and whiskey. He fought in several wars and travelled across Europe, from city to city, for years. He made mistakes and friends and foes and lived to tell the tale.


    It¡¯s an author who lived.


    I look down at the picture of him on the jacket of the book, the thick mustache and beard. Maybe it¡¯s time to be reckless, too. After all, the authors I admire don¡¯t live tame lives.


    Maybe it¡¯s time to stop making excuses for not writing that book. To give in to the bad ideas and the good ones alike. To give in to someone who might be a bad choice, but who will inevitably make for a memorable experience. Live a little, Skye. Don¡¯t be so scared.


    My bravery tripsts all through the end of my shift, even as I close up the bookstore with more hope than I¡¯ve had in weeks. It sends my fingers flying across the screen to send Cole a text.


    Skye Hond: Let me drop off the thermometer before you file a police report against me.


    Not brave enough to wait for a response, I drive home and jump into the shower. Forty minutester my hair is clean and dry, and I¡¯m putting on mascara in the mirror. He might have seen me feverish and sweaty, but I want to remind him of what I can look like when I make an effort.


    Slipping into the same tight-fitting dress I¡¯d worn to the hotel and some matching lingerie-the only matching pair of bra and panties I own-I grab my phone. He¡¯s responded.


    Cole Porter: I¡¯m in the Amena Building. Top floor.


    That¡¯s the only thing he writes, no instructions, no proper address. It¡¯s so like him that I smile down at the phone. Perhaps I should tell him I¡¯ming over right away, but he might object. I might lose my nerve. Riding my new bravery high, I decide not to.


    Thirty minutester I¡¯m parked outside of the Amena. It¡¯s a giant high-rise in central Seattle, a beautifully sleek building. It¡¯s the kind of modern look-but-don¡¯t-touch architecture that I¡¯ve always wondered who would choose to live in. Cole Porter, apparently.


    My mother would call it soulless, and not figuratively, either.


    I smooth a hand over my dress. Reckless, Skye. The great writers of old travelled the world on pennies for experiences. Inparison, I¡¯m trying to seduce a man who¡¯s already shown his willingness. It¡¯s not remotelyparable.


    I walk into the lobby of the Amena like I belong there. My kitten heels echo painfully loud across the stone floor.


    A doorman stops me. ¡°Can I help you, miss?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to see a friend,¡± I reply. ¡°Cole Porter. He¡¯s expecting me.¡±


    I hope.


    The man looks me over once before directing me to a receptionist, seated behind a copper-ted desk.


    ¡°For the top floor,¡± he tells her.


    She gives me a professional, practiced smile. ¡°Good evening, miss. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Skye Hond,¡± I say, feeling lesser by the minute.


    As I watch, she makes a call, and then I¡¯m forced to stand there while she informs the person on the other line-Cole, perhaps?-that he has a visitor.


    My attempt at recklessness is now a four-person show. I should have figured that rich peoplee with a retinue. Tugging on the already modest hem of my dress, I give her a smile as my fate is decided.


    She finally hangs up. ¡°Wee to the Amena. Gordon will escort you upstairs.¡±


    He leads me to an elevator at the back of the lobby, only essible by keycard. Inside, there¡¯s only one button, and it¡¯s for the top floor.


    Cole has his own private elevator.


    And he willingly spent the night next to me in my little apartment to make sure I was okay.


    The ride feels eternity-long, ascending toward the heavens, my heart beating frantically in my chest.


    It finally slides to a stop and the doors open to reveal Cole, pacing in a hallway like a caged animal.


    He stops when he sees me. ¡°Skye.¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡± I step out of the elevator and give him a half-smile. ¡°Your own elevator? Very impressive, Porter.¡±


    He ignores me. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m perfectly fine. The pills you gave me did the trick. So this is your ce, huh?¡±


    I step past him and around the corner. Gray walls, floor-to-ceiling windows. The sparse furniture is severe and beautiful in a way that¡¯s clearly meant to be admired, not used.


    ¡°Yes.¡± A strong hand wraps around my wrist and I¡¯m stopped from going further. ¡°You came awfully fast.¡±


    ¡°I realized something.¡± My breath catches as his gaze travels down to my lips, my neck, down my body. The tight ck dress and the kitten heels. My hair, blow-dried and long down my back.


    His eyes ze when they return to mine. ¡°Ah, Skye, you kill me.¡±


    I inch closer and put my hand on his shoulder, slowly running it down the hard nes of his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know what it is I¡¯ve realized?¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    He closes his eyes. ¡°I think I can guess.¡±


    ¡°Let me give you a clue. The thermometer was a pretext.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m gathering that, yes.¡± His hands reach out and grip my hips, fingers digging deliciously into my skin. ¡°Have I finally convinced you to be reckless?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I rise on my tiptoes and press a kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw. ¡°But this is a separate thing. It can¡¯t interfere with the business deal.¡±


    ¡°Entirely separate,¡± he agrees.


    Boom. Something sounds eerily like pots mming together. Cole takes a step back, his hands releasing me. ¡°Fuck. Give me one minute. Let me handle something.¡±


    ¡°You have a guest?¡±


    ¡°One minute. Don¡¯t leave, Skye.¡± He disappears down the hallway with brisk strides, and I¡¯m left in therger-than-life corridor.


    I inch further down and peek into his ce. That¡¯s when I see the two sses of wine on the coffee table. One has a faint, but distinct, lipstick mark.


    Voices reach me. One is dark and deep and delicious, even at this distance. The other is unmistakably feminine.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 31

    Shit.


    Shit, shit, shit.


    I tiptoe back into the elevator to avoid the sound of my heels against the stone floor. Everything inside me feels hot with embarrassment.


    The elevator requires no keycard to reach the bottom floor. It barrels down, and my self-esteem with it, even though I know I have no reason to feel upset. Did I think he¡¯d been celibate the entire time since he¡¯d met me? No, because I hadn¡¯t thought about it at all. Hadn¡¯t even crossed my mind.


    I give the doorman and receptionist a little wave on the way out and ignore the surprise in their eyes.


    ¡°Good evening, miss,¡± Gordon says, his voice growing in strength as I hurry past. ¡°Would you like us to call you a cab?¡±


    ¡°No thank you!¡± I half run out of the stupidly fancy building.


    My smile falters the second I¡¯m back out in the warm evening air. Once I reach my car, I take a few deep breaths in the driver¡¯s seat. It¡¯s okay, I tell myself. I was reckless. I learned a lesson. And I¡¯m never going down that particr path again.


    I drive home on autopilot, my mind running over the interaction over and over again. The idea that he would get rid of one female guest to make room for me¡­ would we pass one another in the hallway?


    Hi, and bye?


    Unease rolls around in my stomach. There¡¯s a reason I haven¡¯t had a proper boyfriend since college. I don¡¯t do this. I¡¯m not good at it.


    Especially not when the dating game involves casual sex and hook-ups.


    My phone rings, vibrating inside my bag, but I ignore it and focus on the road.


    ¡°You tried, Skye,¡± I tell myself out loud. ¡°Maybe being reckless just isn¡¯t for you.¡±


    My phone rings again.


    I ignore it again.


    When I¡¯ve parked and closed my apartment door behind me-back to my familiar, homely chaos, away from brutalist ss and severe furniture-my phone rings a third time. This time I look at the screen.


    Cole Porter.


    I press decline.


    A message appears nearly immediately after.


    Cole Porter: Answer your damn phone, Skye.


    I don¡¯t. Another text appears.


    Cole Porter: Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d chicken out like that.


    Oh, hell no.


    With my hands nearly shaking from anger, I find his contact information and press dial. He answers on the first ring.


    ¡°Chicken out?¡±


    He scoffs. ¡°Knew that would get to you.¡±


    ¡°d I¡¯m so predictable,¡± I say, ¡°but I didn¡¯t chicken out. You were clearly busy, and I didn¡¯t want to be rude and force your guest to leave.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he says. ¡°I did have a guest.¡±


    It¡¯s something I knew already, but it still hurts, irrational as it is. ¡°See?¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°My sister.¡±


    ¡°And while I very much appreciated you showing up unannounced, it did present somewhat of a dilemma.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± My heart sinks, both with embarrassment and relief. Way to be reckless, Skye. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    ¡°An apology? From Skye Hond?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m capable of it. God, Cole¡­¡±


    He continues as if I didn¡¯t speak. ¡°Now, you never gave me back the thermometer. I thought that was why you showed up.¡±


    I sink down onto my couch. ¡°It was just a pretext.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯m here on the same one.¡± There¡¯s a knock on my front door. ¡°Let me in, Hond. I want my thermometer back.¡±


    I open the door and there he is, face set in determined lines.


    ¡°You followed me home?¡±


    ¡°What about your sister?¡±


    ¡°She understood.¡± Cole steps past me into the apartment, closing the door behind me. There¡¯s a fierce purpose to his movements. ¡°I told you to wait, Skye.¡±


    ¡°I thought you had a woman over!¡± My voice mirrors his, and I throw my hands up in frustration. ¡°One you¡¯re not rted to, I mean.¡±


    ¡°And that would have bothered you?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± The question sinks in and I shake my head. ¡°No. I mean, of course you¡¯re allowed to see women. However many you want. It¡¯s not like you need my permission or anything.¡±


    ¡°Good to know.¡± He takes a step closer and I react in kind, taking a step back. ¡°But you were still bothered by the idea?¡±


    He¡¯s goading me to admit it, and damn him, but the words flow out of me of their own ord. ¡°Yes. I didn¡¯t want to meet her. Or take her ce. ¡±


    ¡°Take her ce, huh? Tell my again why you came over.¡±


    ¡°Thermometer,¡± I say, putting as much haughtiness as I can in the word. Wanting him wouldn¡¯t be so damn hard to admit if he didn¡¯t draw it out like this-if he didn¡¯t make me spell it out.


    His mouth twitches. ¡°Dressed like this? Not likely.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 32

    My eyes drift to his lips, to the stubble along his jaw. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were this slow. You must have figured it out by now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I have,¡± he says, eyes burning. ¡°I just want to hear you say it.¡±


    ¡°You want me to admit defeat? Never.¡±


    ¡°Not defeat. A truce.¡± His smile curves, crooked and sly. ¡°You want me as much as I want you.¡±


    Every part of my body wants to admit it, would say anything to have his lips on me again. For a few perilous seconds, I fight the impulse, but it¡¯s a losing battle. I reach up to twine my arms around his neck and surrender. ¡°Fine,¡± I say. ¡°I want you. Stud.¡±


    Dark humor glitters in his eyes. ¡°Finally,¡± he murmurs, bending to press his lips against mine. It¡¯s just like the kiss in the bookstore, powerful and deep and insistent. His mouth is demanding and I give in to its power. Strong hands run down my arms and raise goose bumps in their wake.


    Despite everything-the fact that we don¡¯t know each other very well, thepetition over the bookstore, the vast ss difference between us-it¡¯s the same as it was in the hotel room. It¡¯s uplicated, our bodies knowing one another intimately.


    I press myself against him and he growls low in his throat. The sound reverberates into me, a moan of my own taking shape. He kisses down my neck and I swear my eyes roll into my head a little bit. ¡°Bedroom,¡± I tell him.


    The shake of his head is faint. ¡°Right here.¡±


    I crawl back on the couch and he follows, covering me with his body, the weight of him bearing me down.


    Cole returns to my lips. I run my hands up his back as he kisses me senseless, a tongue seeking entry. Strong hands reach down and push my dress up so I can wrap my legs around him.


    ¡°This feels familiar,¡± I murmur.


    His darkugh washes over me. ¡°Painfully so,¡± he says, pushing against me until I feel his hardness.


    It undoes something in me. I pull his face down to my neck and bite his ear, my heels digging into his thighs. ¡°Fast,¡± I say. ¡°Slowter.¡±


    He sits back, pulling off his sweater and T-shirt in one smooth motion. Tan, taut skin is revealed in all its glory. Hair on his abdomen, disappearing down into the ck cks.


    I arch up to pull down my zipper, and he helps, peeling the tight dress off my skin and revealing it to his gaze.


    His hands roam. My hips. My arms. My stomach. His gaze soaks up my body, mycy lingerie, and I burn everywhere it touches.


    ¡°Sure you want it fast?¡± he asks, voice dark and coarse.


    I undo his belt buckle and turn his former words on him. ¡°Chickening out, Porter?¡±


    Heughs, but it¡¯s a short, heated sound. ¡°Fuck no.¡±


    I pull down his zipper at the same time as he reaches around and undoes the sp of my bra. Thece falls down my arms and he tosses it aside.


    ¡°I¡¯m pulling rank,¡± he says, standing up and kicking off his cks. ¡°Come here.¡±


    Strong hands grip my thighs and I¡¯m lifted up, held against his body. He knocks something over on his way to the bedroom.


    ¡°Leave it,¡± I say, though with his lips against my throat, it doesn¡¯t seem like he¡¯s even noticed.


    He tosses me on the bed and climbs over me. My legs around his waist. His hardness against my heat, even through our underwear. His silky hair under my fingers. I¡¯m ovee with sensations.


    Cole breaks away with his trademark smile. ¡°No hesitation tonight. You were more unsure that night at the hotel.¡±


    ¡°Only at first.¡± I pull him down again and rake my nails lightly over his back.


    ¡°Only at first,¡± he agrees, flipping over so I¡¯m on top. His hands grip my hips and his eyes are on my breasts, my body, unmistakably hungry.


    I grab his wrist and pull it to my chest. He cups obligingly, strong fingers pinching my nipples. ¡°This, I remember,¡± he says, and sits up to put his mouth on them. He bites. I gasp.


    This is what the hotel night had been like. No awkwardness. Fullmunication. Thebination had made for multiple orgasms and more yful sex than I¡¯d ever had before.


    Heady waves of need pulse through me with each pull of his lips. I run my hands over his wide shoulders, the deep grooves of his back. I¡¯ve missed this body.


    Cole leans back and inspects my breasts-both of them full and heavy, the nipples now taut and red. ¡°Perfect.¡±


    I push him back and he falls onto the bed,ughing. ¡°So impatient, Hond.¡±


    ¡°Very.¡± I reach down and stroke him through his boxers, and hisughter dies immediately.


    ¡°This is separate,¡± I remind him.


    ¡°Entirely,¡± he agrees.


    I pull the waistband down and grip him hard. He hisses in painful pleasure.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have sex.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he growls. ¡°Please.¡±


    I stroke, once, twice. He¡¯s throbbing in my hand, steel and velvetbined. ¡°And afterwards, we go back to hating each other.¡±


    The ck of his eyes shes. ¡°Yes.¡±


    He reaches out and tugs my panties roughly to the side. And then he does the same to me, the same power y, letting his fingers tease and circle until it¡¯s difficult to focus on stroking him.


    ¡°Fair is fair,¡± he says, voice breathless.


    I feel the same way. Every touch of his fingers increases the ache inside me. There¡¯s not much more of this I can take.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    Cole flips me in one strong move, and then he¡¯s moving down my body, hands on either side of my panties. I raise my hips off the bed and he pulls them down my legs. ¡°What did you think of thece?¡±


    ¡°Very nice.¡± He puts his hand on me, fingers spreading me, before one of them sinks deliciously deep inside. ¡°But I like this better.¡±


    Something inside me warms at the praise at the same time as need ws through me. Judging from the dark of his eyes, he feels the same.


    ¡°And so wet already,¡± he says. ¡°Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Already warmed up.¡±


    Cole draws his finger out slowly. ¡°Clearly.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 33

    He sits up between my legs and spreads them wide, eyes not leaving mine. He grips himself and slowly runs the throbbing head along my center. Every time it touches the top of my slit, I mewl. He¡¯s giving me just enough to keep me on the edge.


    ¡°Quit teasing.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°This is payback.¡±


    ¡°For leaving me that note instead of your number.¡±


    I rise up on my elbows and slide my hands up my sides, cupping my breasts. His gaze shifts to my nipples as I roll them between my fingertips. ¡°Two can y that game,¡± I say. It¡¯s the kind of exhibitionist sex I¡¯ve never had before-lights on, no shyness. There¡¯s no space for awkwardness with him around.


    Still watching me, he reaches down and circles my clit with sure, practiced fingers. Fire races through me like an ember to a me and I copse against the bed with a moan. It¡¯s more than I can bear, and it seems like it¡¯s more than he can, too. We lose the game at the same time.


    Strong hands grip my hips and pull me tighter. The pressure at my entrance increases, delicious, not enough, I want-


    ¡°Condom,¡± I breathe. ¡°We need one.¡±


    His exhale is shaky. ¡°Right. In your bedside drawer?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any.¡±


    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, Hond. Who wouldn¡¯t-¡±


    I push against him. ¡°Stop wasting time. Do you have one?¡±


    ¡°I might. Let me check.¡± He disappears and I¡¯m left on the bed, physically aching from theck of him. When he returns, it¡¯s with determined strides.


    Iy back and watch him, his v-shaped physique, the wide shoulders and trim waist. He¡¯s cut like a swimmer. It¡¯s unthinkable that I¡¯m not nervous or self-conscious around him, but here I am,fortable and so turned on it¡¯s painful.


    He tears off the foil and rolls the condom on with one practiced move. ¡°Had one in my wallet,¡± he growls. ¡°Thank God.¡± He kisses me so hard I think I might bruise, both of us gripping each other eagerly. He grabs my thighs and pulls me close. I reach down and guide him.


    And then he¡¯s inside me.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he growls. ¡°You feel so good.¡±


    I want to echo thepliment-he¡¯s stretching me out in the most delicious way-but then he starts to move and speech eludes mepletely.


    Cole grasps my ankles and puts them on his shoulders. His fingers dig into my thighs, using me as leverage to push himself deeper.


    ¡°Touch yourself,¡± he orders. ¡°I want to feel youe around me.¡±


    And that¡¯s why I haven¡¯t been able to forget the night at the hotel room. He¡¯d demanded that I show him where I wanted to be touched, and he¡¯d wanted to see it, to learn. To touch me that way himself.


    I reach down and circle my clit in the way that always brings me to the edge. It¡¯s easy-I¡¯m already close-and Cole looks down, eyes transfixed.


    It empowers me. I circle again, and again, and he¡¯s groaning now. ¡°Fuck. I¡¯m close.¡±


    He bends me over until I¡¯m nearly double, and I¡¯m gasping, I can¡¯t breathe, he¡¯s so deep. My hand is still working. I¡¯m teetering on the edge, dangerously close to losing control. The abyss is beckoning.


    And then he rolls his hips while inside me and I¡¯m lost, to pleasure, to him. To us.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    Somewhere through the climatic fog I hear Cole groan loudly. He jerks into me, hands gripping my thighs.


    Seconds pass. Minutes.


    My legs are lowered gently to the bed as he stands, tying off the condom. I admire his backside as he heads to the bathroom. It¡¯s all I have the energy for. My limbs feel loose and heavy. Moving is beyond me at the moment, possibly for all future.


    Heughs at me when he returns. ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°Much better than all right.¡±


    ¡°d to hear it.¡± He sits down on the bed, propping up a few pillows. Making himselffortable. It reminds me of when I was sick and woke up to him reading on the other side of my bed.


    A bit flustered, I turn over on my stomach. His gaze dips down to caress my body, and I revel in it, feeling powerfully feminine. He might only have seven percent body fat, but he certainly doesn¡¯t mind mine.


    ¡°So,¡± I say.


    ¡°So,¡± he echoes. ¡°Let me guess. You¡¯re going to say that this was a one-time thing?¡±


    I try a smug smile of my own. ¡°No. I was going to discuss ground rules.¡±


    ¡°Rules? You really know how to talk dirty, Hond.¡±


    ¡°Hah.¡± But¡­ interesting. ¡°Would you want me to?¡±


    One of his eyebrows rises. Naked, with his just-fucked hair, he looks too good to be true. Which he kind of is.


    ¡°Absolutely.¡± He nces over at my stack of books. ¡°I¡¯ve never slept with a writer before. Will you use similes? Metaphors?¡±


    ¡°Tons,¡± I tell him. ¡°A lot of alliteration.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re turning me on already.¡±


    I reach for my pillow and slide my arms underneath it. ¡°Ground rules. No one knows we¡¯re sleeping together.¡±


    ¡°Who would I tell?¡±


    ¡°Especially not Karli, or anyone in your business.¡±


    He looks at me like that¡¯s obvious. ¡°I don¡¯t gossip.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t imagine you did, but it needed to be said. Too much is at stake,¡± I say. Like my business. My reputation. My heart, my head warns, but I wave it away. Just because I¡¯ve never had a friends-with-benefits situation before doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t.


    Cole leans over, running a hand along my back. I close my eyes at the pleasure of the simple touch. ¡°What we do in bed won¡¯t interfere with anything outside of it. I can keep the two separate if you can.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I murmur. ¡°Because outside of bed, I still hate you.¡±


    Hisugh is rough. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re agreed. This is just sex.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 34

    ¡°Just sex,¡± he agrees. ¡°Uplicated, no-strings-attached sex.¡±


    I nce at his chest, his shoulders, the sharp cut of his jaw. The man is sex on a stick, and I¡¯m sure he¡¯s used to this kind of situation. Not to mention the glittering amusement in his eyes when we spar. The curve of his smile, sly and teasing. Enemy or not, I¡¯d have to be a fool to throw that away.


    ¡°Hot-as-hell sex,¡± I correct softly.


    His answering grin is all masculine pride. ¡°You¡¯reing over to mine on Saturday.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I say, reaching out to run a hand over his chest. ¡°I am?¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡± He reaches out to flip me over, his body moving over mine. ¡°We¡¯ve only just begun.¡±


    Nick ps me on the shoulder. It¡¯s his normal greeting, has been since we were in our early twenties. I p him back. ¡°Man, it¡¯s been weeks since I¡¯ve seen you around.¡±


    ¡°Sorry about that. Work has been¡­ well, a lot.¡±


    ¡°Is your new development set to start?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, within a few weeks,¡± I say, taking a sip of my whiskey. Skye would have my head for phrasing it that way, but I know better than exining the business deal I made with Between the Pages to Nick. He¡¯d tell me all the ways it was a terrible decision.


    He nods, leaning back in the booth. ¡°Ready to lose on Saturday?¡±


    ¡°Hah, you don¡¯t stand a chance. I¡¯m not losing three sets in a row.¡± I lean back, draping my arm over the back of the empty chair next to me. ¡°ir might swing by toward the end. Promised her a game too. That okay?¡±


    Nick nods, even though his face tightens. For some reason, he¡¯s never gotten along with my little sister. ¡°Sure.¡±


    The circles under his eyes look deeper than usual, even if he¡¯s otherwise the picture of health. ¡°Business booming?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°You could say that, yes.¡±


    I recognize the wolfish glint in his eyes. ¡°What failingpany are you taking over now?¡±


    ¡°NDA,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you in a week.¡±


    I grin. Seattle society has never known what to make of Nichs Park. Brilliantly wealthy, but very obviously new money. Talented and efficient, but with a penchant for ruthlessness.


    We¡¯d been ssmates in college and had stuck together ever since, both of us drawn to winning and aplishment like moths to a me.


    ¡°The number of enemies you make in a month must be hard to keep track of,¡± I say. ¡°Do you keep a list? A little ck book?¡±


    He smirks. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll make a copy for you in the event of my death.¡±


    ¡°So I can track down your murderer?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I haveplete faith in you.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    I snort. ¡°I don¡¯t. But I¡¯ll hire the best private detective that money can buy.¡±


    Nick tips his ss to me. ¡°I¡¯d expect nothing less.¡±


    In my pocket, my phone vibrates. It¡¯s usually something I ignore when I¡¯m with family or friends, considering how many hours of the day I work.


    ¡°Give me a moment.¡±


    He nods and looks out over the hotel bar. Another one of mine, but not Legacy, thank God. I haven¡¯t been back there since that first night.


    It¡¯s Skye. She¡¯s sent me a photo, no text, of the crowded storage room at Between the Pages. On the wall is a small dartboard with the nearly unintelligible logo of Porter Development taped over it.


    Arrows pepper it.


    I grin at my phone.


    Cole Porter: Not a single arrow is in the bull¡¯s-eye. There¡¯s room for improvement here.


    Her answer is immediate-like she was waiting by the phone.


    Skye Hond: It¡¯s hard to aim when I¡¯m ovee with anger.


    Cole Porter: If I¡¯m to be vandalized, at least try to do it properly.


    It¡¯s easy to picture her face, amused and annoyed in equal measure. Asshole, she¡¯s saying to herself right now.


    Nick is shaking his head at me. ¡°You¡¯re smiling at your phone? Don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s ir.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I lean back in the booth, looking at him. Nick has always given it to me straight. Sometimes brutally so. ¡°Remember the girl I told you about?¡±


    ¡°The one who worked in the building you¡¯re demolishing?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡±


    ¡°What about her? No, don¡¯t tell me. You¡¯ve started sleeping together.¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s casual, though.¡±


    ¡°To you, maybe,¡± he warns. ¡°It always starts casual.¡±


    ¡°Mutually agreed casual, actually. She still can¡¯t stand me on a personal level.¡±


    Nick chuckles darkly. ¡°I like her already. So what? The two of you are having hate sex?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± From my side there isn¡¯t much hate at all. She regrly likes to remind me of hers, though. Nick isn¡¯t the only one talented at making enemies at work.


    ¡°Perfect setup, man. It¡¯ll blow up in your face, but enjoy it while itsts.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a risk, but it¡¯s minimal,¡± I say.


    Nick grins. ¡°When was thest time you did casual?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while,¡± I admit. ¡°But once upon a time it was the only thing I did.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 35

    He raises a finger, warning in his eyes. Whatever he¡¯s about to say, I don¡¯t want to hear it. I don¡¯t want my ex dragged into whatever psychoanalyst babble he¡¯s going to attempt.


    To my surprise, he doesn¡¯t. ¡°Enjoy,¡± Nick says, ¡°but you guys are heading toward a deadline. Don¡¯t forget she¡¯s eventually going to cut contact with youpletely.¡±


    My whiskey tastes sour. ¡°Oh, I won¡¯t.¡±


    Our evening doesn¡¯t run long. There was a time when Nick and I would¡¯ve been out tillte, both of us chasing shots and skirts, but that¡¯s over a decade gone.


    He puts a hand on my shoulder. ¡°I won¡¯t dry your tears on Saturday when you lose,¡± he says.


    I repeat the gesture. ¡°Tennis is a gentleman¡¯s sport, but I¡¯ll make an exception for you.¡±


    Nick¡¯s answering smile tells me that I¡¯m going to have to fight for victory-just the way I like it. Nothing feels good when it¡¯s unearned.


    Maybe it¡¯s the whiskey, or the text she sent me, but I dial Skye¡¯s number as soon as I¡¯m alone.


    ¡°Cole?¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say. ¡°I have a dartboard at home.¡±


    Her voice is half-amused, half-annoyed. ¡°Why am I not surprised?¡±


    ¡°You need to practice aim.¡±


    ¡°Rude,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯re right, but still.¡±


    ¡°Are you busy? If not,e over and practice.¡±


    A pause. ¡°Is this a booty call, Porter?¡±


    I can¡¯t help it. Iugh. ¡°Casual sex usually involves some form of nning, yeah. It doesn¡¯t just happen spontaneously.¡±


    There¡¯s silence on the other line. It¡¯s the first time we¡¯ve spoken since the evening at hers, two days ago. We¡¯d agreed to it then-she was the one who set the strict guidelines-but perhaps she¡¯s changed her mind. Backed out of the whole thing. For all of her refreshing feistiness and attitude, she¡¯s surprisingly innocent at heart.


    ¡°I¡¯lle over,¡± she says. ¡°Give me half an hour.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll send a car.¡±


    She snorts. ¡°Under no circumstances will you do that. I¡¯ll drive myself.¡±


    I find myself smiling a long time after I¡¯ve hung up, thinking about her soft voiceced with steel as she refused my offer. Independent Skye Hond in action, indeed.


    Forty-five minutester the bell of the elevator rings out in my hallway, and there she is in all her glory.


    ¡°You¡¯rete,¡± I call.


    ¡°Only by fifteen minutes.¡± The sound of boots being unzipped, a jacket tossed to the ground. ¡°It¡¯s a school night. I can¡¯t stayte.¡±


    ¡°Are you telling me to hurry?¡±


    ¡°A master never hurries.¡± I grab a bottle out of the wine cooler and open it with an easy move. Skye walks into my kitchen on bare feet, wearing a short-sleeved sundress. Her brown hair is loose over her shoulders and gleaming. I¡¯ve always thought she¡¯s pretty, but under the dimmed lights, her face is arresting. Dainty nose. Sparkling eyes. Temptingly curved mouth.


    I clear my throat. ¡°Wine?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please.¡± She takes a sip, looking up at me through darkshes. It¡¯s a brazen look-confident in its ability to seduce.


    ¡°I¡¯m d you came over.¡±


    ¡°I told you I would.¡±


    I lean back against the counter, sweeping my eyes over her form, stopping at her neck, her cleavage, her hips. It¡¯spletely inappropriate, which is the point. She shifts her feet from under my scrutiny. ¡°Well,¡± I say finally. ¡°I had my doubts.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Is this the first casual rtionship you¡¯ve had?¡±


    She ignores me pointedly, walking around the concrete kitchen ind. ¡°Do you ever cook here?¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°Sometimes. You¡¯re evading the question.¡±


    Skye sits down on one of the high chairs and looks around. I wonder what she thinks of my ce-of the stark, minimalist design. It¡¯s a world away from her apartment, with its knickknacks andck of bookcases andplete hominess.


    ¡°You must hate my ce,¡± she says, as if she¡¯s realizing the same difference.


    ¡°Not at all.¡± If anything, it reminds me of my old apartment. Of the house I grew up in. Of family and warmth.


    ¡°What instructions did you give your interior designer? Luxury Buddhism?¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°I didn¡¯t give any. The ce was furnished when I bought it.¡± Not to mention I¡¯d been in a rush, not wanting to stay one more night in the ce I¡¯d lived with my ex.


    I put my ss down and walk around the counter to where she¡¯s sitting. Her dress has ridden up and I put a hand on her thigh, smoothing over soft skin. ¡°Is this the first time you¡¯ve had an arrangement like ours? Explicitly casual?¡±


    Her lips open, invitingly full, even as her brown eyes shutter. ¡°Perhaps,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t usually sleep with men I¡¯m also trying to win a business deal against.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No. You¡¯re kind of my first in that regard.¡±


    I put a hand over my heart. ¡°Honored.¡±


    ¡°You should be.¡± She pulls away from me, sliding off the chair and continuing her perusal of my kitchen. I sit back, watching as she stops at my stove, my microwave. At the fridge.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have any fridge mas,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been to a home without any.¡±


    I put a hand over my mouth to hide my smile. ¡°Well-spotted.¡±


    ¡°Howe?¡±


    ¡°Well, how does anyone get theirs?¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± She runs a hand over the handle and open the fridge. It winks emptily back at her. A few bottles of juice, some fruit. There¡¯s rarely food in it. I¡¯m just not home enough.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 36

    ¡°This is sad, Porter.¡± She holds up a half-opened jar of pickles, sitting alone on a shelf. ¡°This is what you live off? I doubt it.¡±


    There¡¯s no way to hide my smile now. She¡¯s stalling, and it¡¯s adorable. ¡°A pickle a day, you know.¡±


    ¡°This is all wrong.¡± She closes my fridge and moves on to the dining-room table. There¡¯s a bowl of something on a side table-are those decorative lemons?-and she grabs one. ¡°Fake fruit. This is how the rich live?¡±


    ¡°Tell you what, I¡¯ve never noticed those before.¡±


    Her mouth turns into a frown. ¡°No wonder you don¡¯t have any food in your fridge. You don¡¯t know how to spot it.¡±


    I¡¯m grinning wide now, reaching her in a few quick strides. ¡°If you want a tour of this ce, all you have to do is ask.¡±


    ¡°Will you providementary?¡±


    ¡°Not sure I know enough about this ce to do that, as you¡¯ve so brilliantly illustrated.¡±


    She slips her hand in mine. The movement is effortless, like we¡¯ve done it before, her skin warm against mine. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    I pull her through the dining room, heading to the living room and therge central firece. ¡°Keep all hands and feet inside the ride at all times,¡± I say. ¡°And no distracting the driver.¡±


    She tugs at my hand, pulling me to a stop in front of a framed picture on the wall. It¡¯s my mom, sister and me at ir¡¯s graduation. I¡¯m wearing a pair of dark sunsses and a suit, looking, as ir so lovingly put it, ¡°Like aplete jackass.¡±


    ¡°This is your family?¡±


    I rub my neck. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Your sister is gorgeous.¡±


    What¡¯s the appropriate response to that? Thanks? ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I say, wondering if she¡¯llment on anything else. This is¡­ well, it¡¯s the kind of conversation that¡¯s decidedly not part of a casual sexual rtionship.


    But she just gives me a wide smile. ¡°Come on, tour operator. I want to see the bedroom.¡±


    ¡°Wow. All right, but that¡¯s kind of forward, Hond.¡±


    Her eyes widen. ¡°But-¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°No, no, what thedy wants, thedy gets. Even if you¡¯re making me feel cheap.¡± I pull her forward, herughter trailing behind us.


    ¡°Not my intention!¡±


    ¡°Deny it all you want.¡±


    She steps past me to the bedroom,ughter dying on her lips when she spots the giant bed. Another feature that was already here when I bought it, but not one I¡¯veined about.


    Her hand slips out of mine as she walks around to the nightstand, finding the book on top of the small pile of reading material. Her hair falls forward, obscuring her face from view. My hand aches to feel it through my fingers.


    ¡°Of course you want to see what I¡¯m reading.¡±


    She smiles absentmindedly, turning it over to read the back. ¡°The History of Aviation?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I reach up to undo my tie, tossing it aside. ¡°You¡¯re stalling again.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just evaluating you. Just because I¡¯m a booty call doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m a done deal, you know.¡±


    ¡°Evaluating me based on my reading habits?¡±


    She nods, looking through the rest of the pile. I run a hand through my hair and watch in agonized silence as she bites her lip. ¡°Oh,¡± she says, the sound a soft exhale. ¡°This book is excellent.¡±


    I tug at the cor of my shirt. ¡°This is excruciating.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not used to being judged.¡± Her voice is silky, the same tone she used at the hotel all those weeks ago. Confident and seductive. And seeing her stand so close to my bed¡­


    ¡°Not in the bedroom, no.¡±


    Her lips quirk into a smile. ¡°Poor little developer.¡±


    ¡°You got one word right, there. Thest one.¡±


    She puts the books down and turns to me fully. Eyes zing, she reaches up to the top button in her summer dress. Her quick fingers undo the first one.


    ¡°So?¡± I say, mouth dry. ¡°Did I pass?¡±


    Two more buttonse undone. The whitece of her bra peeks through, the smooth curve of her breasts visible. And her fingers don¡¯t stop, either-soon her t stomach is revealed. I stay rooted, afraid a sudden movement will make her stop.


    ¡°You did,¡± Skye says, shrugging the dress off. It pools at her feet. ¡°I love it when you look at me like that.¡±


    I drag my gaze up to hers, a Herculean effort. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she breathes, her voice containing bravery and shyness and want in a heady mixture.


    ¡°Then take off that bra, too.¡±


    She bites her lip but obliges, her eyes still on mine. It slides off her arms and then she¡¯s standing in front of me d in only her panties and her long hair. Delicately curved corbones. red hips. Soft thighs. Freckled breasts with nipples that are already hard.


    ¡°Fucking hell.¡±


    Her smile is warm. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the look.¡±


    ¡°You know what I like so well already, do you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re easy to read.¡± Skye slides up the bed, her eyes locked on mine-yes, don¡¯t look away-as I reach to unbuckle my belt. Her breath makes a hissing sound as I push my pants and boxers down. It¡¯s difficult, being so painfully hard.


    ¡°See?¡± I say, stroking myself. ¡°All because of you.¡±


    Her beautiful skin flushes, and it races up her cheeks, her neck, down across her chest. It¡¯s one of the first things I¡¯d noticed at the hotel bar. She¡¯d mouthed off to me, but she¡¯d blushed while doing it.


    ¡°Come here.¡± I grip her ankles and pull her roughly to the edge of the bed. She gasps when I grab a hold of her panties and tug them off, down long legs and off one ankle.


    Beautiful.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 37

    I settle between her legs, my hands on her hipbones. ¡°Just a booty call,¡± I mutter against her skin.


    But I don¡¯t answer with words. I make sure she shatters instead-enjoying every minute of it. Skye¡¯s back arches when shees, in a way that is as natural as it¡¯s arousing. Her gasps are real, and everyst one of her hissing breaths makes me throb.


    She copses against the bed and finds my head, her fingers threading through my hair. I rest my forehead against her inner thigh and breathe through my arousal.


    This, I could do forever. Making here that first night together had felt like sess, and after the third time, like victory. Especially when she told me she rarely came with men.


    ¡°I want you to fuck me,¡± she breathes.


    I groan. ¡°Fuck. So do I.¡±


    ¡°Hard, Cole. Really, really hard.¡±


    Hate sex, I think, Nick¡¯s words finding me again.


    I flip her over, my hands on her hips, pulling her ass back to me. I want her too much to think clearly, to think of anything beyond her body bent before me.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she breathes, arching.


    I¡¯ve never put on a condom faster than I do right then, with Skye¡¯s demanding eyes on me. ¡°Hard,¡± she growls.


    She doesn¡¯t have to say it twice.


    Pushing inside her feels like heaven and both of us moan at the sensation. She¡¯s beyond wet, and so tight, and fucking hell I could do this forever. Fuck her forever.


    Except I can¡¯t. Each deep stroke increases the sensation, the need inside me, and I won¡¯tst for shit this time around. It¡¯s too good. I grip her hips-they¡¯re the perfect handhold-only to abandon them for her round ass. Watching myself slide in and out of her. Hearing her gasp when I go deep.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°Cole,¡± she mewls, hands fisting in my covers. She falls forward onto her elbows, her legs moving closer together, making her feel even tighter around me. It obliviates all thought.


    ¡°Good girl,¡± I growl, fucking her harder and faster, giving her everything, my hands in her hair, and then she¡¯s moaning and I¡¯ve lost control and her body is so beautiful underneath me and I can still taste her on my tongue and it¡¯s all over. I erupt with my hands gripping her hips, pinning her in ce, buried deep.


    She whimpers against the coverlet. ¡°Oh my God.¡±


    I brace my hands against the bed, covering herpletely, and try to focus on breathing. How is every time I fuck her better than thest?


    ¡°You OK?¡±


    I huff augh and pull out of her, tossing the condom aside. ¡°I was going to ask you that.¡± I copse onto the bed, my breath furious. She turns over onto her back beside me.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Skye is in no better shape-her arms and legs spread out like a starfish, staring up at the ceiling. ¡°Wow. That was¡­¡±


    ¡°Fucking unreal,¡± I mutter.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s about right.¡±


    I look over at her. Flushed skin, zed eyes. Beautiful hair that spreads across my bed like brown silk. ¡°Not too hard?¡±


    She shakes her head, vigorously enough to make me smile. ¡°No. Perfect amount.¡±


    ¡°You feel unbelievably good against me, not to mention around me. I¡¯m always surprised I manage tost at all.¡±


    Skye turns to look at me, amusement and embarrassment evident in her eyes. Is she not used topliments during sex, either? If so, it makes me seriously question the men she¡¯s been with before.


    ¡°Is this the part where Ipliment your dick?¡±


    Iugh, reaching over to flick her pert nose. ¡°Only if you want to.¡±


    ¡°In that case, I¡¯d say-¡± The shrill sound of a phone ringing cuts through the air. It¡¯s a tune¡­ it¡¯s familiar. Skye scrambles into sitting.


    ¡°This?¡± I ask. ¡°You have the theme song to The Office as your ringtone?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She rummages through the pockets of her dress, fishing out a battered old iPhone. ¡°Hi, I.¡±


    I put my hands behind my head and eavesdrop openly, listening to her talk. ¡°Yes, dinner is tomorrow at seven. I can-¡±


    Her face shutters at whatever I says. Her cheeks, already flushed from sex, turn dark red. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    Whoever is on the phone didn¡¯t like hearing that, that¡¯s clear. Skye turns away from me, still nude, her hair long down her back. My gorgeous bookstore clerk, smart and strong and brave. ¡°Okay. Yes, of course I will. Do you want him to stay over at mine too?¡±


    A pause.


    ¡°Yes. Fine. I¡¯ll pick him up at six. And I¡­ Don¡¯t go too crazy this weekend, all right?¡±


    Skye hangs up, a frown on her beautiful lips. It doesn¡¯t belong there. ¡°Whoever that was,¡± I dere, ¡°was an idiot.¡±


    She breaks into a surprisedugh. ¡°Where did thate from?¡±


    ¡°Call it a hunch.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t outright agree to that.¡±


    She nods. ¡°I¡¯m babysitting Timmy tomorrow. I don¡¯t mind that part at all, but her bailing on a dinner with Mom isn¡¯t cool. Especially not¡­¡± She trails off with a shake of her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to bore you. It¡¯s silly.¡±


    It doesn¡¯t sound silly, but I don¡¯t push. I watch instead as she clips on her bra. Bye, breasts, I think. Until next time. I pull on my own pants and watch in amusement as she searches for her underwear.


    ¡°Where did you toss them?¡±


    ¡°No clue. I was more interested in what they covered.¡±


    Skye blushes again. ¡°Well, I do need them back.¡±


    I help her look, finally finding her panties atop my dresser. I hand them to her with a flourish. ¡°For you, miss.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    We head into the living room, Skye quietly doing up her buttons. ¡°It¡¯s a school night,¡± I say, ¡°but I¡¯ll never kick you out after sex. Stay as long as you¡¯d like.¡±


    Her smile is crooked. ¡°So we can braid each other¡¯s hair?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 38

    ¡°Hmm. Perhaps a pillow fight?¡±


    ¡°I have an advantage in the first game, you in the second. Sounds fair.¡±


    ¡°The fairest.¡± I slip my hands in my pockets, still without a shirt. ¡°I¡¯m going away for a few days, by the way.¡±


    ¡°You are?¡± She sways closer and I reach out, running a strand of her hair between my fingers.


    ¡°Yes, for business. I¡¯ll be back by Tuesday.¡±


    ¡°Going to conquer more of the world?¡± Her eyes, flecked with hazel, look just like they had in the hotel bar that first night. Teasing and confident, with no trace of dislike. The way I prefer.


    ¡°What do you think I do for a living?¡± I slide my hands around her waist. ¡°I don¡¯t think I want to correct you on it; I sound much more powerful in your imagination.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    She chuckles, hands wrapping around my neck. ¡°And egomaniacal.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s another very good word.¡±


    ¡°My vocabry turns you on, huh?¡±


    I tip her head back and press a series of slow, shivery kisses to her lips. ¡°Most definitely.¡±


    She kisses me back-soft, warm, inviting. ¡°Then take a thesaurus with you.¡±


    I fill my hands with her ass. ¡°Not nearly as appealing as you. All hard angles, no curves.¡±


    ¡°Thanks forparing me favorably to a book.¡± She slides her arms down my chest, my arms, ending the kiss with a smile.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s the highestpliment in your book.¡±


    ¡°More true than you know.¡±


    I lean against the wall and watch as she presses the button for the elevator. She looks respectable again-cute, in her boots and dress-but nothing can hide the just-fuckedness of her long hair, gorgeous and wild.


    ¡°Don¡¯t miss me too much while I¡¯m gone,¡± I say.


    She steps into the elevator and gives me a crooked smile, the one I like the most. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Porter. I still hate you.¡±


    The elevator doors close and shutter, sending her barreling down from me one floor at a time. ¡°I know,¡± I say out loud, ¡°but we¡¯ll work on that.¡±


    Monday morning starts with a bang.


    Chloe identally ms the front door to the bookshop on her way in, an expensive handbag dangling on her arm. She pushes auburn hair back and gives Karli and me a winning smile.


    ¡°Hey! So sorry I¡¯mte!¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about it. We¡¯ve had a fair bit of trafficing through, so there¡¯s no rush.¡± Karli grabs the financial ledgers from behind the counter. ¡°We¡¯ll have to go through the books in the storage room. I hope you don¡¯t mind?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡± Chloe¡¯s smile goes from professional to warm when she sees me. ¡°Skye! You¡¯re finally here when I¡¯m here!¡±


    I hug her. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, likewise. It¡¯s been far too long.¡± She leans back, running eyes over me assessingly in a way that reminds me why we¡¯re friendly, but not friends. She¡¯s always been a tad too critical. ¡°You look good.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. So do you.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to catch up after Karli and I have spoken. I want to know everything that¡¯s new with you.¡±


    She follows Karli into the storage room, chatting about numbers. We¡¯d been lucky to get an ountant on such short notice, and I¡¯d never heard a bad word about Chloe¡¯s professional qualifications.


    All the same, we¡¯d need someone brilliant to sort through our expenses and newfound ie to find a way to win the bet. I¡¯d understood enough about bookkeeping to realize that looking profitable and being profitable weren¡¯t necessarily the same thing. If we could reschedule some payments, cut down on expenses¡­ well.


    I sit by the register while Karli is gone, using the time between customers to work on our Instagram profile.


    It¡¯s really grown since Cole mocked it for only having twenty-seven followers. We¡¯re up to nearly four hundred and counting, and we had the hundreds of articles I¡¯d read on how-to-grow-your-Instagram to thank for that. Organic engagement. Outreach. Consistent posting. Hashtags.


    Oh well. If Between the Pages fails, perhaps I have a future as the world¡¯s least experienced social media consultant?


    Two teenage girlse in around noon, giggling to one another. They straighten when they see me. ¡°Hi there! Can I help you with anything?¡±


    One of them steps forward. ¡°Hi. Yes, please. We¡¯re looking for, like, a book made out of hearts? As a window in a shelf?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the other one says, ¡°a heart made out of books.¡±


    Excitement rushes through me. ¡°Yes, we have that! It¡¯s right down here¡­¡± I lead the way to the wall in between the reading room and contemporary fiction.


    The first girl clears her throat. ¡°Is it okay if we take pictures of it?¡±


    ¡°Of course! And,¡± I add, because I¡¯ve learned something from all those articles, ¡°don¡¯t forget to tag us if you post it online.¡±


    Both girls give me a smile. ¡°We will.¡±


    It¡¯s a small thing-maybe a silly thing-but it makes me stupidly happy to see the bookheart working as I¡¯d hoped. It¡¯s part of the mystical charm of this ce. What booklover could resist?


    I return to the register and smile at the excited shrieks from the back, one of the girls instructing the other how to pose. Why hadn¡¯t I made it earlier? It makes me want to text Cole. Take that, Porter. Profitability, here wee.


    Or, perhaps more urately, Thanks for helping me make it. It¡¯s working.


    I don¡¯t send him either of them. He¡¯s been gone for two days, which is no time at all, but it feels like an eternity. I¡¯d gone twenty-six years without really good sex, and now that I¡¯ve had it, I¡¯m determined to keep having it.


    I look over at the bookshelf of political ssics. Machiavelli. Sun Tzu. usewitz. All of them dealt with power and enemies, with maniption and subterfuge. I doubt they¡¯d approve of sleeping with your enemy.


    My eyes drift lower, to literary ssics that are more daring. Protagonists who did crazy things-lived on the road, fought Greek gods, braved insurmountable odds.


    I chose messy, I think. I wanted life experience. This is it. It¡¯s exhrating and difficult in equal measure.


    And dangerous, especially as I sometimes have to remind myself of why we can¡¯tst, of who he is-the person trying to turn Eleanor¡¯s legacy into a shiny new hotel with plush carpeting and chandeliers. This is a mess entirely of my own making.


    After work I treat myself to a bit of self-care. I close the fourteen inte tabs on myputer titled everything from How to save a small business to Create tote bags for yourpany! I pour myself a bath. I light candles. I turn on gravelly jazz, the old-school kind that makes me feel like I¡¯m in a speakeasy wearing a bedazzled dress without a care in the world. For tonight, it¡¯s exactly what I need.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 39

    No worrying about the future allowed.


    The water is heavenly against my skin, dissolving both my worries and my sense. Cole is my release. My escape. My chance to do something I absolutely shouldn¡¯t. He makes me feel wanted and alive, epted on my own terms.


    My phone is lying next to the bathtub, and before I lose my nerve, I dial his number.


    ¡°Skye?¡± His voice on the other line is surprised, but undeniably pleased, too. It gives me strength.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°Is anything wrong?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all,¡± I say, bending a knee in the tub. Some water sshes out. ¡°Does something need to be wrong for me to call you?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. Are you swimming?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m taking a bath.¡±


    There¡¯s a pause, and then his voice is back, dark and hoarse. ¡°You¡¯re calling me while you¡¯re in the bathtub?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I was feeling a little out of sorts, but then I realized why. I haven¡¯t told you that I hate you yet today.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Ah,¡± he murmurs. ¡°You haven¡¯t had your daily dose.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    I hear a door close, and then footsteps quickening. ¡°Where are you?¡±


    ¡°Hotel,¡± he says. ¡°I was in the lobby, but I¡¯m heading to my room now.¡±


    There¡¯s a faint electric beep, and then another door closing. ¡°Tell me more about what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°In the bath?¡±


    I slide deeper into the hot water, until only my shoulders and head are above the surface. ¡°I¡¯m almost entirely submerged.¡±


    ¡°Submerged, huh. That¡¯s a good word.¡±


    ¡°It is. I¡¯m your thesaurus with curves, remember?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± he says. ¡°I remember.¡±


    ¡°Plus I¡¯ve taken creative writing sses.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± His voice sounds faintly strained. ¡°Put them to good use for me and paint me a picture. Make me wish you were in my hotel bathtub.¡±


    My cheeks are burning, and not just from the heat of the bathwater. Are we doing this? ¡°All right,¡± I say. ¡°My bathtub isn¡¯t big, but it¡¯s enough for me. My hair is up in a bun, but it¡¯s slowlying undone. I have a few candles lit.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. The water smells likevender. I added some oil. But no¡­ well, there are no bubbles. None at all.¡±


    Fabric rustles on the other end. I imagine him undoing a tie, lying back on the bed, his phone to his ear as he listens to me.


    ¡°Damn it, Skye. All I can think about is you naked in the bath right now.¡±


    ¡°Well, that would be a pretty urate picture.¡±


    ¡°I want you to pinch your nipple.¡±


    My breath catches in my throat, but I obey, sliding my hand down to do as he says. It rises between my fingers. ¡°I wish it was your hand.¡±


    His voice is heated. ¡°It would be my teeth.¡±


    ¡°You know, nobody has yed with my breasts as much as you do.¡±


    ¡°A crime,¡± he says, ¡°that I very much enjoy correcting.¡±


    My hand drifts lower, empowered by his words. ¡°Are you in your room now?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m on my bed.¡±


    I find the spot between my legs and circle. The water is oily and the motion practiced, need already pulsing. A soft moan slips out.


    ¡°Fuck. Put the phone on speaker, Skye. Touch yourself for me.¡±


    And his voice¡­ I circle faster, my breath quickening. ¡°If you do the same?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always a negotiation with you, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Always.¡±


    Through the phone, I hear the distinct sound of a zipper being undone. My hand moves faster, circling, the pressure building. His breathing is heavy on the other end, the phone on speaker next to the tub.


    ¡°Talk to me,¡± I say. ¡°I like your voice.¡±


    It sounds like he¡¯s smiling when he replies. ¡°So you keep saying. All right. Are you touching your clit for me?¡±


    ¡°Good girl. Slide your fingers further down, slip one inside for me.¡±


    Dear God. I do what he says, a moan escaping me at the sensation. ¡°I wish it was you.¡±


    ¡°My hand?¡± he asks. ¡°Or my cock?¡± I sink deeper into the bathwater without responding, and a throatyughes through the phone. ¡°You¡¯re blushing now. I can tell.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so hard for you here, Skye. I want to fuck you so bad.¡±


    My fingers are circling faster now, my breathing in gasps and moans. It¡¯s his voice. His words. The picture of him on his hotel bed, stroking himself, hard because of me.


    ¡°You are,¡± I say.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 40

    He growls. ¡°Damn it. Tell me you¡¯re close, don¡¯t hold back, I can¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m close. I wish my fingers were your tongue. I wish you were inside me.¡±


    ¡°Oh baby, me too.¡±


    I close my eyes at the endearment and flick my fingers back and forth. Pleasure starts deep inside, spreading to my stomach, my legs, my entire body. It¡¯s too much. I moan, my body arching, my orgasm exploding through my senses like a tidal wave.


    Through the phone, Cole groans loudly, cursing.


    And then both of us are just breathing.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I murmur. ¡°Are you still there?¡±


    ¡°Barely. Fuck. I should¡¯ve taken off my shirt.¡±


    Myughter is breathless. ¡°That was so hot.¡±


    ¡°Beyond. I wish I was there, though. Fucking you in a bathtub is now high on my list of priorities.¡±


    I nce down at my narrow little tub. Unlikely, although I¡¯m sure he¡¯d find a way to sex me senseless anyway. ¡°So do I. My fingers are good, but they¡¯re not you.¡±


    He groans. ¡°Don¡¯t. If you keep talking, I¡¯ll get hard again, and my dick is already sore from how hard I was stroking.¡±


    ¡°Famine. Disease. Thirty-seven times eight.¡±


    Coleughs, the sound rich and full in my small bathroom. ¡°Thank you. Crisis averted.¡±


    ¡°Have you conquered the world yet?¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°Only half,¡± he says. ¡°Some people resist my rule. Curious, that.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Put me in touch with their leader?¡±


    ¡°Rude.¡±


    I sink deeper into the warm water, my body feelingnguid and loose. ¡°Two girls came into the bookstore today. They wanted to take a picture of the bookheart.¡±


    There¡¯s a pause, long enough that I wonder if I¡¯ve ruined everything by mentioning the store. It¡¯s the reason we¡¯ll only ever be casual, after all.


    But then heughs. ¡°You¡¯re feeling pretty good about that, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I think the word is ¡®vindicated.''¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good one,¡± he says. ¡°You have an eye for that sort of thing, Skye.¡±


    I have no idea what to say to that. ¡°Is the weather nice in LA?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always nice. But I¡¯ve been in back-to-back meetings, so no chance of enjoying it, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Poor little developer.¡±


    ¡°The poorest,¡± he agrees, a smile in his voice. ¡°So tonight I was your booty call, as you so tteringly put it?¡±


    I want to protest, but when I open my mouth to, they all fall t. He¡¯s right. ¡°Yes,¡± I admit. ¡°I¡¯m happy you picked up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m happy I was the one you called.¡±


    There is no one else, I want to say. But that would reveal more than I¡¯d want to. ¡°Honored is the right word,¡± I say.


    ¡°All right.¡± His voice is teasing. ¡°Honored.¡±


    There¡¯s a knock on his end, audible even on the phone. ¡°Damn it, I need to go.¡±


    ¡°Take care,¡± I say, and regret it immediately. What was I doing? Signing off an email?


    ¡°Later, Skye.¡±


    The phone call ends and I sink further into the bath, and then further still, until my head is under the water. It seems like an urate description of how I¡¯m feeling-in way over my head.


    The next morning, there¡¯s a delivery to the bookstore. Skye Hond, the packet says. Fragile.


    Karli is on the phone when it arrives, and I quickly carry it out to my car and away from her eyes. My suspicion is confirmed when I tear up the cardboard, too eager to wait.


    It¡¯s a box filled to the brim with bath salts, bath bombs, bubbling bath oil. It smells like Bath & Body Works on steroids. And below it, a small bullet vibrator. Water-friendly, it says on the box in pink letters.


    I want to sink through the ground. I want to open the box and test it.


    And attached, a small handwritten note.


    Booty call me all you like.


    A low whistling in the bookstore makes me smile. Timmy is bent over his oceanography book, intent on finishing his homework, whistling on and off. When ites to anything animal-rted, he¡¯s more than motivated.


    I hardly have to help, either-and as much as I like doing so, that¡¯s getting tougher and tougher. Parts of his math homework have already begun to look alien to me. At least I can be helpful in his English ss.


    ¡°Are whales and dolphins friends?¡± he asks, not bothering to look up.


    I smile down at the cash I¡¯m counting at the register. ¡°I don¡¯t know. They don¡¯t live together, and I don¡¯t think they spend a lot of time together, but they don¡¯t dislike each other. Does that make sense?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he says, scribbling something in his notebook. ¡°Kind of like you and Mom.¡±


    I lose track of my countingpletely. It¡¯s an offhandment, like he¡¯s stating something obvious. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    He looks up, pushing his sses back. ¡°You don¡¯t spend a lot of time together.¡±


    ¡°We do,¡± I say. ¡°Some.¡±


    ¡°Not much.¡± His voice is cheery with a child¡¯s triumph. ¡°Either I¡¯m with her, or I¡¯m with you, but I¡¯m not with both of you at the same time.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 41

    ¡°Hmm. That¡¯s true, buddy. But we¡¯re definitely better friends than dolphins and whales.¡±


    He nods, returning to his homework, like my answer exins everything.


    Maybe it does, and maybe it¡¯s not particrlyplicated. But at the same time, I¡¯s been getting on my nerves in a way she never used to. Just tonight, she¡¯d ignored me when I¡¯d said I¡¯m busy tonight, guilt-tripping me into changing ns to look after Timmy. It hadn¡¯t been big ns-yoga, dinner, calling Cole again-but I¡¯d looked forward to it.


    Just thinking it feels traitorous. I love having Timmy around. His shoulders bent over his homework, the vulnerable nape of his neck, the cheerful whistling¡­ he¡¯s the best nephew I could ask for.


    But would it hurt I to n ahead for once in her life? Sometimes, I¡¯d appreciate more than a few hours¡¯ warning. And Timmy deserves far better.


    Not that she gets that. Where reason is concerned, my sister has always had a mind like ader. She hears what she wants to hear and siphons off the rest.


    Timmy leans back, ink on his fingers. ¡°Did you know that sea turtles can live to be a hundred?¡±


    ¡°They can? That¡¯s impressive!¡±


    ¡°And so old!¡± He flips a page in his book, and even from this distance I can see the outsized drawings of orcas on the page. ¡°Have you ever been to the aquarium?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but it was a long time ago. Do you want to go?¡±


    ¡°Can we?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll talk to your mom and figure out a good time. Maybe this weekend?¡±


    His smile is massive. ¡°You¡¯re the best.¡±


    ¡°No, you are.¡± I walk around to the reading room table and ruffle his unruly hair. Freckles dance across the bridge of his nose. ¡°I¡¯m almost done with closing up, and then we¡¯ll head home. Do you want to make homemade pizza for dinner? I have dough in the fridge.¡±


    ¡°Yes, let me just finish my homework first.¡± His voice is so serious that I have to bite my lip to stop a smile.


    ¡°Of course, sweetheart. Take as long as you need.¡± He turns back to the page, and I smile all the way to the cash register. I¡¯s son, the picture of studious. I might not see eye to eye with my sister, but we both think Timmy¡¯s the best kid around-and we¡¯re both right about that.


    I wipe down the counter with a wet rag. There¡¯s not a customer in the store, but that¡¯s not unusual for a Tuesday evening. Besides, customers have been filtering in and out all day-and our sales are definitely on the rise. The thought makes me whistle, too.


    But then the door opens, the bell sounding, and there he is. Without warning or prior notice-a day before his trip was supposed to end.


    Cole¡¯s eyes find mine right away. They¡¯re zing with purpose, his suit jacket stretched taut over wide shoulders. No tie. Undone top button. The determined lines on his face hit me with force and all I can do is stare.


    He crosses the distance between us in long strides. ¡°Did you get my delivery?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But-¡±


    He bends me back with the force of his kiss. It¡¯s demanding, lips moving across mine with a clear message. We¡¯re finishing what we started when you called me in the tub. And then, when his tongue slips inside, something far filthier. We¡¯re using that vibrator.Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    Or maybe that¡¯s just my mind.


    I push him back, breathless. ¡°Cole-¡±


    ¡°I came back early.¡±


    ¡°Wee back.¡± My eyes flit to the reading room. ¡°We¡¯re not alone.¡±


    He leans back, his arm dropping from my shoulders to my waist. ¡°Karli?¡±


    Timmy peers at us through the cased opening, a smile on his face. He ducks his head as soon as he sees us looking.


    ¡°Hi again, kid!¡± Cole calls loudly. ¡°Sorry to interrupt your time alone with your aunt.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay!¡± Timmy calls back. I extricate myself from Cole¡¯s arm. How will I exin this? Not to mention to my sister, when he inevitably tells her about it?


    Cole must have read this and more on my face, because he shoots me a smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he says under his breath. ¡°We¡¯ll handle it.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Yeah.¡±


    ¡°You need to close up the store?¡±


    Timmy has closed his book-homework forgotten, apparently-and is leaning against one of the fantasy bookshelves. ¡°You know a lot about baseball,¡± he tells Cole, without a shred of the shyness he usually shows around strangers.


    Right. They¡¯ve met before. I release the breath I¡¯ve been holding and force my shoulders to rx. Beside me, Cole is the picture of ease.


    ¡°A fair bit, yeah.¡±


    ¡°There are tryouts at my school,¡± Timmy volunteers. ¡°Later this year, I mean.¡±


    I blink at him. ¡°You¡¯re going to join the team? That¡¯s awesome!¡±


    He shoots me an exasperated you-wouldn¡¯t-get-it look, coupled with an eye-roll that says I¡¯m being embarrassing. All of a sudden he¡¯s ten going on fifteen, teenager savvy and all.


    Cole nods knowingly. ¡°Tryouts are scary,¡± he says. ¡°I get it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had to do a bunch of them.¡±


    ¡°You have?¡± Timmy takes a step forward, his hand itching at his side. He¡¯s started writing up anything he considers importanttely.


    ¡°Yes, for the swim team. It¡¯s not the same sport, but I can give you some pointers.¡±


    Timmy nods enthusiastically, pointing to the reading room table. ¡°Let¡¯s sit,¡± he says, like they¡¯re about to have a meeting.


    Cole shoots me a crooked what-can-I-do kind of smile. ¡°Is that okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, absolutely,¡± I say. His charm is irresistible, it seems, both to ten-year-old boys and their old-enough-to-know-better aunts.


    I close and lock the register. I turn off the lights upstairs, and double-check the back entrance through the storage room. And all the while I listen to snippets of their conversation, Cole asking Timmy if he¡¯s yed before, if he has a good baseball racket to practice with.


    Something about it strikes me as a distinctly masculine conversation. Peering around the corner at them, Timmy is wide-eyed and enthusiastic, watching Cole as he exins something that is beyond me. Coach. Pitch. Angle. Bracing a strong hand on his thigh, he¡¯s the picture of male vitality. It¡¯s something neither I nor I can provide.


    By the time I¡¯m finished, they¡¯re still deep in conversation. Timmy has half a page filled with notes. I lean against the cased opening. ¡°Hey, guys. Ready to head out, Timmy?¡±


    The grin he aims my way is blinding. ¡°Cole said he¡¯d take us to a baseball game! To see the Mariners!¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 42

    Oh no he didn¡¯t. I give Cole a withering look, but he just gazes levelly back at me. ¡°I have VIP season tickets. Might as well use them. The kid needs to see proper games if he wants to start ying one day.¡±


    ¡°Please say yes, Auntie,¡± Timmy says, almost bouncing with barely concealed excitement. ¡°You don¡¯t even have to watch. You can bring a book!¡±


    That makes me smile. ¡°We¡¯ll go, if our schedule matches Cole¡¯s. He¡¯s very busy.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a home game tomorrow night,¡± Cole supplies helpfully. ¡°And I¡¯m not too busy.¡±


    What he¡¯s offering¡­ well, it goes well beyond the casual status we¡¯d decided on. Warmth spreads through my chest and brings a smile to my lips. Regardless of Cole¡¯s motivations, this will make Timmy¡¯s week.


    And judging from his puppy-dog eyes, I will quickly lose my best-auntie-in-the-world status if I say no to this. It¡¯s a long way to fall.


    ¡°Let me call your mom,¡± I tell Timmy. ¡°If she says yes, we¡¯re going tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Yes! Yes, thank you so much. Thank you, Cole.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure. I don¡¯t go often anymore. It¡¯ll be fun, kid.¡±


    Cole walks us to my car, parked just across the street. Timmy doesn¡¯t protest when I say that Cole and I need to talk on our own for a minute or two. Instead, he gives Cole a thumbs-up and a cheerful see you tomorrow!


    When the door closes, I turn to Cole, rubbing my neck. ¡°This is really nice of you.¡±


    His lips twitch with a smile. ¡°Are you about to say thank you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I might be. I¡­ Cole, it¡¯s too much. If it was for me I wouldn¡¯t be able to ept it.¡±


    His handnds on the curve of my waist,fortable, like it belongs there. ¡°Nonsense.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, my voice sincere. ¡°Truly.¡±


    ¡°But¡­?¡±


    I lower my voice. ¡°What part of this is casual, though? It¡¯llplicate things.¡±


    He tips my head back and presses a kiss to my lips. It¡¯s soft and warm, the kind of kiss you give someone when you know there¡¯ll be lots more opportunities. ¡°We won¡¯t let it. And your nephew will love you for eternity.¡±


    I smile, a bit crookedly. ¡°Buying a kid¡¯s love, huh?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the way I was raised.¡± He kisses me again, deeper this time, running his hands down my arms. ¡°Tell him I¡¯m just a guy you¡¯re dating. Your sister won¡¯t know the difference.¡±


    ¡°Wear a baseball hat and sunsses to the game, and no one will recognize you.¡± He flicks my nose again-it¡¯s quickly bing a habit of his-and grins. ¡°This is still casual.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say happily. ¡°We¡¯ll go, but we¡¯re still enemies.¡±


    Heughs, releasing me. ¡°I¡¯m counting on that, Hond. And don¡¯t forget to bring a book.¡±


    Normal game day experiences for me have included waiting in line. Lines to get in, lines for the security check, lines to get a hot dog or a pretzel. Turns out the one percent doesn¡¯t live like that.


    With Cole¡¯s VIP tickets-and VIP status-Timmy and I are ushered along through a separate entrance. We ride in an elevator instead of taking the stairs. It¡¯s almost ludicrous, and when Cole sees my expression, he gives me a not-so-subtle elbowing. ¡°I don¡¯t make the rules.¡±


    I elbow him back, his chest a solid brick wall. ¡°Do you have different snacks too?¡± I ask. ¡°Gold-infused soda? Truffle-vored popcorn?¡±


    ¡°No. That would be ridiculous.¡± A pause. ¡°But the caviar-vored pretzel is to die for.¡±


    Iugh, keeping a hand on Timmy¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Sounds delicious.¡±


    Timmy¡¯s wearing his favorite baseball shirt,plete with the team¡¯s logo and winning colors. I¡¯d pulled out one of my own-about two sizes too big and twenty years too old, one of the few pieces of clothing I have from my dad. I¡¯ve tucked it into a pair of jeans, a baseball cap low on my head.


    Cole isn¡¯t in a suit. It was so jarring at first that I had to needle him. ¡°Not used to seeing you without a tie,¡± I¡¯d said, which was a mistake. In his eyes, the rebuttal was clear as day. You¡¯re used to seeing me without anything at all. Check mate-there was nothing I could say to that in public.


    We¡¯re escorted to a terrace-like seat. The pitch unfurls before us, green and endless. Four padded chairs and a table with a monitor embedded, and on it, stats about the yers are already circling.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Timmy exims, climbing into one of the chairs. ¡°Look!¡±


    Batting practice is done, it seems, and both teams are milling on the pitch, preparing for the national anthem.


    Cole hands me a menu with the entire snack selection. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    I scan the lists, a smile on my lips. ¡°No caviar pretzels. Damn.¡±


    ¡°They must be out.¡±


    ¡°Then what will you have?¡±


    He snorts, pulling out one of the chairs for me. ¡°The normal ones are nice, too. A bit of sea salt. Melted butter.¡±


    I pretend to shiver in pleasure. ¡°Perfect. Timmy, do you want a pretzel?¡±


    His eyes are glued to the pitch with an almost feverish intensity. ¡°Yeah,¡± he says, but in a way that confirms he hasn¡¯t been listening for a second.


    I smile at the back of his head, noting the spot where his hair curls. It¡¯s always curled right there, from the time he was a toddler. ¡°Two pretzels, then, one for us each. And some soda?¡±


    Cole uses the screen to order. All around us, people are taking their seats, d in Seattle green, white and blue. Seated in our own little terrace, we¡¯re attracting a fair amount of curious looks.


    ¡°Good thing I remembered to wear sses and a cap,¡± I stage-whisper to Cole. He smiles, throwing an arm around the back of my chair.


    ¡°Anonymous brte number one,¡± he says, letting his fingers trail lightly over my shoulder.


    ¡°d I got the number-one spot,¡± I tease.


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m a gentleman.¡±


    An attendant delivers our food and a chilled bucket of beer, shooting Cole a practiced smile.


    Timmy pays the food no mind. He¡¯s standing up, arms around the railing. On the table is his notebook and pen, brought along for research purposes. Cole asks him questions about the opposing team, in from out of state, and to my surprise Timmy knows nearly all the answers.


    ¡°When did you learn all this? Both of you?¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    Timmy¡¯s voice is proud. ¡°I keep up with the Major League.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 43

    ¡°Of course you do,¡± Cole says, arm still around my chair. ¡°You love the game.¡±


    Iugh, propping my legs up. ¡°Okay, okay, I get it. I know nothing.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll teach you,¡± Timmy offers generously. ¡°It¡¯s starting!¡±


    And so it is. We stand for the national anthem, and then I watch, nearly as entranced as the two boys, as the batter hits with the sound of a whip. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve seen a baseball game, even longer in such an enthusiastic crowd. It¡¯s exhrating.


    Timmy cheers and high-fives with Cole, asionally giving me one, too. Next to me, Cole is outwardly rxed with a beer in hand, but his eyes don¡¯t leave the pitch. He wasn¡¯t joking when he said he was a fan. He hasn¡¯t shaved today, either, and his five-o¡¯clock shadow is pronounced. It looks good on him.


    He looks at me, quirking an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re here to watch the game, not me.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re so much more interesting than a ball.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°Is that apliment, Hond?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Don¡¯t get used to it.¡±


    ¡°No risk.¡± He tightens his arm around me and looks back at the game. On impulse, I lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek. He doesn¡¯t turn his head, but his lips curve into a smile.


    Timmy is ecstatic at the first break between innings, so excited that he hasn¡¯t taken a bite out of his pretzel. He discusses moves with Cole, who indulges my nephew in every part of the game he wants to dissect. And to my delight, both of them seem to be enjoying themselves.


    Someone clears their throat next to us. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here today, Cole.¡±


    A tall man leans against the entrance to our terrace, a rogue grin on his face. His hair is dark ink and cropped short, eyes taking in Cole, Timmy and me with dark amusement.


    ¡°Nick.¡± Cole nods, a look in his eye that¡¯s impossible to interpret. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you¡¯d be here today, either.¡±


    The man snorts. ¡°d we¡¯ve established that. Hello,¡± he says to me, extending a hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m Skye,¡± I say, as we shake.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°Nichs Park.¡±


    The name rings a faint bell. He sees it in my eyes, because his smile widens. ¡°Yeah, that one.¡±


    Wow. Arrogant, much?


    Cole clears his throat, as if he was thinking the same thing. ¡°Nick runs a venture capital firm.¡±


    Timmy takes a step closer to me, watching this disy of masculinity with bright eyes. I put a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°Just came by to say hi. I won¡¯t bother you guys, out on a family outing.¡± Nick¡¯s eyes are shining with sly amusement.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Cole says. ¡°I¡¯d invite you to stay, but then again, I don¡¯t really want you to.¡±


    My exhale is audible-Timmy is staring at Cole with an open mouth-but Nick just throws his head back andughs. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t. And you know what, I was considering going easy on you next time we y. But now I won¡¯t.¡±


    Cole snorts. ¡°As if. Well, good luck trying.¡±


    Nick¡¯s gaze shifts to me and Timmy. ¡°Pleasure meeting the two of you,¡± he says, and then he¡¯s off, striding down the steps to his own VIP seating.


    That¡¯s when the name registers. Nichs Park, Seattle¡¯s most hated billionaire. Destroyer ofpanies. Hedge fund manager extraordinaire. Not a builder, like Cole. No, Nick deals with destruction.


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    Cole reaches for another beer. ¡°Sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°That,¡± Timmy deres, ¡°was awesome. You just said¡­¡±


    ¡°I only said that because we¡¯re friends,¡± Cole says. ¡°And because Nick isn¡¯t offended by anything.¡±


    ¡°Still, though. Awesome.¡± The hero worship is clear in Timmy¡¯s eyes.


    Cole reaches out to punch him lightly on the shoulder. ¡°Game¡¯s starting.¡±


    It is, but I only spend one-third of my time watching it. One-third I¡¯m looking at Timmy, happy at his happiness, and the other third is to sneak nces at Cole beside me.


    Here, at the baseball game, he seems so ordinary. We seem ordinary, like this is something we do all the time. He¡¯s rxed and smiling. Still too attractive by far-there is nothing ordinary about his broad shoulders or square jaw-and yet it¡¯s dangerously easy to pretend that we¡¯re more than we are. Dangerously easy to forget the bookstore, the demolition ns, the expiration date on our casual rtionship. I push the thoughts away, like I have so many times before with him. Live in the present.


    By the seventh-inning break our team is in the lead, and you can tell. All around us, people are cheering andughing, toasting with beer bottles, waving foam hands around.


    The between-inning entertainment begins and up on the Jumbotron excited fans cheer, captured by the panning camera.


    ¡°You really go here all the time?¡± Timmy asks, finally reaching for his pretzel.


    ¡°Fairly often, yeah,¡± Cole says. ¡°More often in the past, though. When I didn¡¯t work so much.¡±


    ¡°What do you work with?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in construction. Buildings, you know,¡± he says, as if his job was that simple. His gaze flickers to me-challenging me to add what we¡¯re both thinking. And asionally tearing them down.


    ¡°Coooool,¡± Timmy says, and then shoots me a look, like I might be offended. ¡°Skye is really cool, too.¡±


    Cole¡¯s smile is crooked. ¡°I think so, yeah.¡±


    ¡°She always lets me eat candy when I¡¯ve finished my homework.¡±


    I hold up a finger. ¡°One piece, after math homework.¡±


    ¡°Whenever I stay at her ce, I get to watch TVte, too. We watch a lot of nature shows.¡±


    Cole chuckles at that. All my bad habits are being exposed here, apparently. ¡°Anyway, are you Skye¡¯s boyfriend?¡±


    I open my mouth, but no responsees to mind. I¡¯d told him before that we were friends. Apparently, I hadn¡¯t been convincing enough.


    Cole shakes his head. ¡°No, but we¡¯re very good friends.¡±


    Timmy cocks his head. ¡°Most friends don¡¯t kiss, though. At least not any of mine.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 44

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Cole says, lips twitching again. ¡°It¡¯s not usual. We¡¯re more like boyfriend and girlfriend in that way.¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡± Timmy breaks off, ncing at me furtively, perhaps wondering if he¡¯s going too far. ¡°You¡¯re friends who might be boyfriend and girlfriend? But you don¡¯t know yet?¡±


    Oh, dear God.


    Cole gives a decisive nod. ¡°That¡¯s exactly right.¡±


    Is it? I sink back into my chair, a jumble of conflicting emotions racing inside me. And that¡¯s when I notice people around us are cheering far louder than usual. It¡¯s still a between-innings break, isn¡¯t it?


    It is.


    And Cole and I are on the Jumbotron. Surrounded by a heart.


    I watch the screen in a dazed sort of horror, seeing Timmy¡¯s massive grin when he realizes we¡¯re on TV. My own face is half-hidden, the baseball hat pulled low. Cole¡¯s is set in determined lines.


    ¡°Damn it.¡± His voice is nearly lost in cheering around us. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.


    I pull my hat down lower. ¡°This is on camera!¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°They won¡¯t see you.¡± And then he¡¯s kissing me, pushing me back into the chair with force, an arm around me. His lips are warm, his back broad.


    Covering me from view.


    He pulls back an inch. ¡°Duck your head.¡±


    Obediently, I duck my head as he sits back, pulling me against his chest. Apuse and whistles sound all around us. And then it¡¯s over. The camera moves on, the cheers die down, and breath returns to my lungs.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Timmy is saying. ¡°We were on TV!¡±


    My voice is faint. ¡°Imagine that.¡±


    ¡°Damn Nick,¡± Cole says, his hand fisted on the edge of his chair.


    ¡°This was his doing?¡±


    ¡°Undoubtedly.¡±


    I shake my head, trying to clear it. The game is shown on TV. The odds that any of my friends are watching, not to mention my family, are low. Nearly infinitesimal. But they¡¯re not zero-and that¡¯s enough to make my stomach turn.


    I put my hand on Timmy¡¯s shoulder to distract myself. ¡°What yer is your favorite? Do you want to show me, on the touch screen?¡±


    Heunches into a discussion about pitcher strength and technique and I listen intently. Ignoring my emotions yet again where Cole is concerned.


    The game begins again and Timmy¡¯s attention is glued, although he asionally turns to us to point out something extraordinary. I lean into Cole, and his arm tightens around me. ¡°Stop worrying about the kiss cam,¡± he murmurs. ¡°No one will be able to recognize you.¡±


    I y with the hem of my baseball shirt. ¡°But people will recognize you, right?¡±


    His voice is reluctant. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And wonder who you¡¯re with.¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± he says. ¡°But you¡¯re Anonymous Brte Number One.¡±


    I put my feet up on the little table. ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s good to be in.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s not a in thing about you,¡± he says, pressing a kiss to my temple. And despite it all, the words make me blush.


    After the game, Timmy has two full notebook pages of notes. He¡¯s talking excitedly about the tryouts with Cole, who as it turns out, is an expert at amping up Timmy¡¯s confidence.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to be easy, but that¡¯s okay. If it¡¯s easy, what would be the point? And if you don¡¯t get into the team on the first tryout, you try again. And again. And you practice.¡±


    Timmy is nodding, brown locks flying. I smile at the two of them. Whateveres out of this night, it has been worth it for the giant grin on my nephew¡¯s face.


    The attendant allotted to us shows up again, a box under his arm. ¡°Before we go, there¡¯s something here for the youngster amongst you. The team heard that you¡¯re a big fan.¡±


    Timmy¡¯s eyes are the size of saucers. He looks at me once, and I nod encouragingly. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wee. Nowe on, let¡¯s get ahead of the crowd.¡±


    Timmy holds the package like it¡¯s the Holy Grail. Once in Cole¡¯s car, he opens it with reverent hands. There¡¯s a baseball shirt signed by the yers and a set of three baseballs.


    ¡°This,¡± he deres, ¡°has been the best night of my whole life!¡±


    Cole grins at me. ¡°I can¡¯tin either, kid.¡±


    I smile back at them both, my heart full, even if the happiness feels as fragile as a soap bubble. One thought of the bookstore and it might pop.


    ir has her hands on her hips. ¡°You were on kiss cam for the whole arena to see, but you won¡¯t tell your own sister who it was?¡±


    I groan, leaning against the wall in my hallway. ¡°How did you even find out about this?¡±


    ¡°It was shared on Facebook.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡± She shakes her head, golden locks flying. ¡°The caption nearly made me gag, though. Who is eligible bachelor Cole Porter smooching? Ew.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re friends with people who¡¯d share something like that?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not turning this around on me.¡± My sister peers around the corner, clearly itching to be invited in. ¡°Is this the same girl you had to rush off to see two weeks ago?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And-how many times do I have to say this-it¡¯s not something I want to talk about.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Cole. I had to see this on the news!¡±


    ¡°Facebook isn¡¯t news. Not yet, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention I haven¡¯t seen you around in ages.¡± She drops her purse on the hallway table, already reaching for the sp of her jacket.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 45

    Damn it. Any other day she¡¯d be wee, but on this beautiful Sunday morning, I happen to have a guest.


    The kiss cam participant, as it turns out.


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± I protest. ¡°We yed tennisst weekend, and had brunch.¡±


    ¡°Nick was there.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    She wrinkles her nose, and I sigh, knowing the dislike between Nick and ir runs both ways. Why they don¡¯t get along is beyond me.


    ¡°Fine, don¡¯t answer that. But ir, I can¡¯t hang out right now. This afternoon? Let¡¯s call Mom and take her out to dinner.¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°Don¡¯t deflect. I know your ways, Cole. Let¡¯s talk about this.¡± She tugs off her jacket and hangs it on a peg, her blonde hair newly cut to shoulder-length. ir changes like the wind. ¡°Since you¡¯re being so cagey about it, is it serious? That would be a first after Elena.¡±


    I scowl at the mention of my ex¡¯s name, especially with Skye right around the corner. ¡°ir, please leave.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± she says, starting down the hallway to the kitchen. ¡°Let me just get a ss of water first and I¡¯ll be- Oh. Hello there!¡±


    Skye is sitting by the kitchen ind with a bowl of cereal. She gives a small wave, ncing down at herself. ¡°Hi there! Sorry for¡­¡± She sweeps a hand over herself, my button-down nearly drowning her. A beautiful flush is climbing up her neck.


    ¡°No, no, I¡¯m the intruder,¡± my sister chirps. ¡°Now I understand why Cole wanted me out of here as soon as possible.¡±


    Skye¡¯s eyes flick to me with curiosity. ¡°ir, this is Skye. Skye, meet ir. My sister,¡± I sigh. ¡°My very nosy sister.¡±


    irughs, unfazed by the critique. ¡°That¡¯s me, always with my nose in his life. It¡¯s really nice to meet you, Skye.¡±


    Skye stands to extend a hand to my sister. My shirt reaches her mid-thigh, but she still tugs it down. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, too. Oh, the questions I have for you!¡±


    ir grins with delight. ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Definitely. Like, does your brother have an aversion to fridge mas?¡±


    I groan again. ¡°This is not happening right now. ir, I¡¯ll call youter.¡±


    ¡°But I just arrived!¡±


    ¡°Nope. Elevator is that way.¡± She gives me a pout, but I¡¯m relentless, and eventually she shakes her head at Skye.


    ¡°He¡¯s always been this bossy. I¡¯m sure that was another of your questions.¡±


    Skye nods, her smile echoing ir¡¯s. ¡°My very next one.¡±


    ¡°It was really nice to meet you. Until next time!¡± Her voice trails off as we walk down the hallway. Stepping into the elevator, she gives me two thumbs-up and a mouthed she seems nice!


    I shake my head at her as the doors close. Thest thing I need is the cheerleader-like support from my little sister, especially when Skye and I are¡­ well. Casual.


    She¡¯s still eating cereal when I return, a smile ying on her lips.


    ¡°Really sorry about that,¡± I say.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. She was amazing.¡±


    The surprise on my face must be evident, because Skyeughs. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t tell her that I work in the bookstore, then no harm¡¯s done, right?


    Skye slides off the chair and pads to the sink on bare feet, putting her empty bowl down. ¡°Besides, I kind of feel like we¡¯re even now.¡±


    ¡°Even?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve met a member of my family. I¡¯ve met a member of yours.¡±


    I rub my neck. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true, yeah.¡±


    She leans against the kitchen counter, her hands braced behind her. ¡°Thanks for the gamest night,¡± she says. With her hair still mussed from bed, my shirt folded up to her elbows, she looks gorgeous. ¡°Whatever else is going on, whatever happens with Between the Pages, thanks for that. You made Timmy incredibly happy.¡±


    I lean against the kitchen ind. ¡°He¡¯s a good kid.¡±


    ¡°He really is, and he has a serious case of hero worship going on right now.¡±


    I grin. ¡°And I¡¯m the chosen object?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. My sister has already texted me twice to ask about my ¡®boyfriend,''¡± she says, adding air quotes.


    ¡°I told him I wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, then we kissed in front of him. I think he¡¯s drawn his own conclusions.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Smart kid. Sorry about your sister, though. I know all about nosy siblings.¡±


    She turns around, turning the faucet on to wash the dishes. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Are you two close?¡±


    A long pause, the only sound that of running water. ¡°Yes and no,¡± she says finally. ¡°She¡¯s a difficult one, to be honest.¡±


    ¡°Older?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, by five years, but she¡¯s always acted as the youngest. A bit wild. Timmy¡¯s father isn¡¯t in the picture, and never was. I think that¡¯s why he took to you so quickly.¡± She holds up a sudsy finger my way. ¡°You¡¯re like the epitome of masculinity, something he¡¯s in short supply of, being raised by a single mother, his aunt, and his grandmother.¡±


    My eyebrows shoot up. ¡°Did you just call me the epitome of masculinity?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Her cheeks color beautifully. ¡°Don¡¯t get used to it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll be dead of shock before that happens.¡± I reach for the towel, drying off her clean bowl. ¡°Tell me more about your sister.¡±


    ¡°She often has new boyfriends. They¡¯re all nice, but they filter in and out, you know. And she¡¯s just like our mother-every new hobby has to be pursued. Her current boyfriend likes cars, so she¡¯s suddenly be a car maniac. Goes to shows out of town all the time.¡±


    ¡°And you babysit Timmy.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 46

    She nods. ¡°My mom and I split it.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    Her nephew. Her family. The bookstore. Everything she does, it seems to be for other people, or for a purpose. For Karli and Timmy.


    I press a kiss to her neck and her eyes flutter closed. ¡°How¡¯s your writing going?¡±


    ¡°Mmm. Good.¡± Her hand grips mine, guiding it to her waist. ¡°Much better than it has in a long while, actually.¡±


    ¡°Inspired by me?¡±


    Herughter is soft. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ttered.¡± I kiss my way up to her ear. ¡°Look at us being civil. Isn¡¯t it nice when we have a truce?¡±


    She wiggles against me, her butt round and soft and enticing. ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°But don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m being nice to you because I know we¡¯ll win.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you will?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We have more customers daily. Sales are increasing. Our ountant basically confirmed it, you know.¡±


    I tip her head back, her neck soft and fragile under my hand. She sighs as my lips trail up and down. ¡°Good,¡± I say, my hand running down to the hem of her shirt. Her thigh is silky-smooth.


    ¡°Good? I thought you wanted to win.¡±


    ¡°Mmm, I do. But the next best thing is you winning.¡±


    Her smile is massive as she turns in my arms, backing me against the kitchen counter. Beneath my button-up, I know for a fact she¡¯s only wearing panties.


    ¡°Charmer.¡±


    ¡°Anotherpliment?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get spoiled.¡±


    I lift her up onto the kitchen ind, her surprisedughter raining down on me. ¡°Spoiled, me? Never.¡±


    She opens her legs so I can fit between them, my hands resting on her hips. ¡°Was that the first time you¡¯ve dried a dish in your own kitchen?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say. ¡°Is that another strike against me?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± she echoes, running a hand up my arms. ¡°The swim team, huh?¡±


    ¡°You remembered.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Do you still swim? You look like you do.¡±


    ¡°Every morning,¡± I say.


    She wraps her hands around my neck. ¡°Except today.¡±


    ¡°Except today,¡± I agree. ¡°I had better things to do.¡±


    I lean in and kiss her, and she kisses me back, warm and sweet. Her hands find their way into my hair, tugging in that way that sends shivers racing down my back. Before long my hands move of their own ord and pull at the buttons of her shirt.


    Sheughs against my lips. ¡°So eager,¡± she murmurs, herughter turning into a gasp when I pinch one of her nipples. After she¡¯d told me none of her previous lovers had given them enough attention, I¡¯d made sure to redouble mine.


    Her hands tug off my T-shirt. My tongue finds hers. It¡¯s a dance we¡¯ve done nearly a dozen times now, and still, every time leaves me hard and aching. She¡¯s irresistible.


    ¡°Sorry for staying the night,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I fell asleepst night after we¡­ well.¡± She breaks off, biting her lip, and I grin at her. We¡¯d tried her bathtub fantasy in my master bath, the tubrge enough for me to fuck her underwater. She¡¯d been slick like oil after the first two orgasms. The memory,bined with her naked and ready before me, makes it hard to think.


    ¡°Do I look like I¡¯mining?¡±


    She grins, shrugging off her shirt. ¡°No.¡±


    I slide her panties to the side and find her warm and wet. ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur. ¡°You¡¯re always ready for me.¡±


    She presses eager lips against mine, scooting to the edge of the kitchen ind. ¡°Like this?¡±


    ¡°Fuck yes.¡± I tug off her underwear. In broad daylight she¡¯s gorgeous, pink and sweet and slick. She pulls at the tie of my cks, pushing them, her movements jerky.


    ¡°This casual thing is gettingplicated, huh?¡±


    I can only agree. When this began, I had no ns to send her gifts, not to mention hang out with her nephew. Maybe we should talk about that. Set new ground rules.


    But then again, she¡¯s beautiful and naked in front of me and her hands are stroking and then I¡¯m spreading her legs wide. ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± I say, my hands running up her inner thighs. ¡°Completely fine. Still casual.¡±


    Skye nods, a breathy moan escaping her when I run the head of my hardness along her. ¡°It¡¯s casual because we say it¡¯s casual,¡± she says.


    ¡°Exactly. You¡¯re not falling in love with me, are you?¡±


    Her chest is heaving. ¡°No, don¡¯t worry. I still hate you.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say, pushing forward. ¡°We¡¯re good.¡±


    That¡¯s a lie, because she¡¯s fucking fantastic. I bury myself inside, and she grips me back, hot and slick and tight. I should tell her that but words refuse to form. My body is moving on instinct, fucking her on the kitchen ind, both of us watching where we join.


    It¡¯s over almost as soon as it began. My hand is circling, moving over her clit the way I know she likes, both of us exploding. It¡¯s her moans that bring me over the edge, soft and breathless and entirely real.


    Skye lies back on the kitchen ind, her body limp. Her breasts rise and fall with her heavy breathing. ¡°You could be the worst person in the world,¡± she says faintly, ¡°and I¡¯d stille back for more of that.¡±


    My hands tighten on her hips. ¡°So I¡¯m not the worst person in the world. It¡¯s a small upgrade, but I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    She smiles up at the ceiling. ¡°So manypliments today. You really are fucking the good sense right out of me.¡±


    ¡°I aim to please.¡± Wincing slightly, I pull out of her heat. ¡°Damn. We didn¡¯t use a condom.¡±


    She rises on her elbows. ¡°I¡¯m on the pill.¡±


    ¡°I have regr health checkups,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to give you a copy of mytest clean bill.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 47

    She blinks at me. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°That just sounds very experienced. I got checkedst September,¡± she says, that beautiful blush spreading over her cheeks again. ¡°Haven¡¯t had sex without a condom since.¡±


    Her blush makes me think she hasn¡¯t had sex with one since then either. Something in my chest constricts, and I pull her up into sitting, kissing her again. ¡°Then we¡¯re good.¡±


    She kisses me back. ¡°I¡¯m d I spent the night when this is what I wake up to.¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡±


    Her hand slips into mine, and then she¡¯s pulling me toward my master bathroom again, a glint in her eyes. ¡°Come on. We need to shower.¡±


    ¡°Do we?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says, and then I¡¯m lifting her up, her naked body warm against mine. It¡¯s one of the longest showers I¡¯ve ever taken.


    Skye leaves early afternoon. Her hair is half-dried and braided down her back, her cheeks flushed with exertion. She kisses me in the hallway.


    It¡¯s a sweet kiss, her arms twined around my neck. ¡°Bye,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°Bye,¡± I murmur back, watching her as she retreats into the elevator, a smile on her lips as the doors shut.


    When she¡¯s gone from view, I lean against the wall and close my eyes.


    This is getting out of control, slipping out of my grasp, a lot faster than I had anticipated. A dangerous suggestion had hovered on my tongue and I¡¯d had to force it down. Stay for lunch. Spend the day with me.


    What would we do? Read books? Watch TV? Go for a walk?


    Casual, Porter. She wanted casual, and so did you. She still hates me-she says so regrly. The feeling isn¡¯t exactly mutual, but I know we have a deadline. The only hope I have of continuing to see her, and having the best sex of my life, is for the bookstore to seed.Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    Which means I have incentive to work against my own best business interests.


    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± I say, leaning my head against the wall. I¡¯m thirty-four. I¡¯ve had my share of rtionships, both longer and shorter. Yet somehow, Skye Hond has gotten me to consider betraying my own ambition, the one thing that had always served as a guiding star in my life.


    And damn it if that doesn¡¯t scare me.


    ¡°Here you go,¡± I say. ¡°And thank you. Your support means the world to us, truly.¡±


    The teenager smiles at me, slipping one of our newly minted loyalty cards into his bag. ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯ve been looking for this series everywhere!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a great one,¡± I say. ¡°I read all of them when I was your age.¡±


    He nods, tugging at his cap. With his dark hair and sses, it¡¯s easy to imagine Timmy like that a few years in the future. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be back to get the rest,¡± he says. ¡°Thanks!¡±


    The bell attached to the front door jingles as he leaves and I¡¯m left grinning like a fool. That was our millionth customer of the day.


    A slight exaggeration, perhaps, but not by much. There¡¯s definitely more traffic today than a normal day just a few weeks ago.


    Whatever we¡¯re doing is working.


    I look around Between the Pages, at the familiar nooks and crannies. At Eleanor¡¯s old armchair in the corner. I breathe in the scent of new books. ¡°We¡¯re doing it,¡± I tell the store, the armchair, myself. ¡°We¡¯re actually pulling it off!¡±


    With less than two weeks until the deadline, Karli and I¡¯ve had to make a pact to stop obsessing over the numbers or we¡¯d be calling Chloe thrice daily for hertest calctions. Profitable means we have to be in the green. We can¡¯t count on future sales; we can¡¯t break even. We have to make more than we need to be allowed to stay.


    As if my thoughts have conjured him, my number-one enemy calls. I nce around the bookstore to make sure it¡¯s empty before I answer. ¡°Hello,¡± I say, a stupid smile in my voice. ¡°Are you taking a break from world domination to call me?¡±


    Cole¡¯s voice is dark and velvety. ¡°Yes. Feel honored.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I do. Just to be in your presence is a blessing.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°If I thought you were being serious, I¡¯d ask if you¡¯d fallen and hit your head. Are you alone in the store today?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Karli has the day off today.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Closing soon?¡±


    ¡°Yes, at six.¡± I¡¯m curious now, craning my neck to look out at the curb. ¡°Why? Are youing by?¡±


    ¡°I could tell you, or I could show you.¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± I say. ¡°Show don¡¯t tell is one of the pirs of good storytelling, you know.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the weirdest.¡±


    ¡°Well, at least I excel at something.¡±


    His voice warms. ¡°At many things. See you soon, Hond.¡±


    He walks through the front door not ten minutester. In a suit and without the tie, his standard look. It hasn¡¯t stopped being impressive-nor has the way his thick hair falls over his forehead, or his smile, crooked and ironic.


    ¡°See?¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve learned my lesson. Call first to avoid run-ins with wayward family members and friends.¡±


    I step around the counter. ¡°Never toote for an old dog to learn new tricks, huh?¡±


    He bends down to kiss me, his stubble chafing pleasantly against my chin. ¡°I¡¯m only seven years older than you, you know.¡±


    ¡°You had that information very handy.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I always need ammunition with you.¡± His hand skims my waist, long fingers trailing. ¡°Lest I be used of cradle-robbing, on top of my elitist and exploitative ways.¡±


    His words are spoken lightly, but it brings a faint flush of embarrassment to my cheeks. He sees it-interest immediately ring in his eyes. ¡°What¡¯s this? You only blush in the bedroom.¡±


    That intensifies the blush, of course, and I turn away from him. ¡°I¡¯m just so harsh on you sometimes. I was wondering if I should apologize for that.¡±


    Cole¡¯s eyebrows shoot high. Then heughs, the sound filling the bookstorepletely. ¡°Of course you are, and rightly so.¡±


    I rub my neck. ¡°I suppose. Just goes against my nature, you know?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know.¡± He presses a kiss to the top of my head. ¡°You¡¯re a good girl. I figured that out early.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 48

    I frown at thepels of his jacket. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡± He steps away from me, walking down the aisles. His voice reaches me easily. ¡°Things have changed since I was herest. The sale is nearly half the store!¡±


    ¡°We took your advice.¡±


    ¡°Are you flying through your inventory?¡±


    I follow him. ¡°Maybe not flying. Hurrying?¡±


    ¡°Good enough,¡± he says with a smile, stopping dead in front of the bookheart, positioned in the shelf. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen it in real life yet.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    I walk around to the other side, and we look at each other through the opening. Framed by a heart, he looks like he did on the kiss cam at the baseball game. My smile is soft. ¡°It¡¯s good, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He rubs his jaw, leaning in to inspect it. ¡°I was skeptical at first, but I can see how this is a draw. Especially for online marketing.¡±


    ¡°Our Instagram profile is growing.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve seen, yes.¡± He nces toward the front door and then back to me. Something in his smile deepens, stretches wide, humor and challenge both hidden within. ¡°Before you close, I want a shot at the dartboard.¡±


    ¡°You want to shoot arrows at your own logo?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°There are days when I¡¯m more tired of it than you can possibly know.¡±


    I¡¯m chuckling as I lead him into the storage room, leaving the curtain open to the main bookstore. ¡°You¡¯re very wee to try.¡±


    Cole steps into the small space, looking far too much for the cramped storage room by the staircase, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling. I have to bite my lip to keep fromughing out loud at the image.


    He pulls out the darts stuck to the board. ¡°Oh, look at this poor logo. It¡¯s skewered.¡±


    ¡°Kind of the point.¡±


    He steps back, rolling the darts around in his open palm. ¡°Ah. The angle isn¡¯t very good.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making excuses?¡±


    He holds up his hands, lips curling. ¡°I take it back.¡±


    I grin, ncing back toward the front door. No customers. ¡°Come on, then.¡±


    He throws the first dart and it reverberates as it hits the board, just half an inch from the logo¡¯s center. The next two are thrown in quick session, hitting dead center both times.


    ¡°There,¡± he says, satisfaction in his voice. ¡°That fucking thing cost me 50k tomission.¡±


    What? ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±


    ¡°I wish I was. Ready for some more great business advice? Find a cheaper graphic artist and ignore your business partner¡¯s protests.¡±


    I shove him lightly, like I¡¯m twelve and don¡¯t know how to flirt. My smile feels etched on my lips. ¡°I¡¯ll remember that for when I start a multi-million-dor firm.¡±


    He wraps an arm around my shoulders. ¡°Look, just make sure you get as much of your inventory out as possible on sale, all right? All you need to show is that you¡¯re profitable. Your profit margin can be razor-thin-it just needs to be there.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s this? You¡¯re helping yourpetitor?¡±


    He shrugs, the movement pulling me closer against his body. ¡°I¡¯m feeling generous.¡±


    ¡°Do you want us to seed?¡± My words are a bit breathless, even to my own ears.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± he says. ¡°Maybe not. Maybe I just don¡¯t want you to hate me indefinitely.¡±


    I have no idea what to say to that.


    Cole sees it on my face, because he snorts and steers me back to the counter. ¡°You, speechless. Now I¡¯ve really seen it all. Come on, close up shop. I¡¯ll throw some more arrows while I wait.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± I clear my throat. ¡°Would you like toe to mine afterwards?¡±


    His eyes glitter in response. ¡°I very much appreciate the offer, but no. I have a surprise nned.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. But I¡¯m going to follow your instructions to show and not tell.¡±


    ¡°What? You can¡¯t hint at a surprise and then say nothing more! We¡¯re going somewhere?¡±


    His smile is wide now, the picture of a man inplete control and loving it. ¡°I like you frazzled.¡±


    ¡°You know my mind is going a mile a minute right now.¡±


    He kisses my temple. ¡°I know. You¡¯re just going to have to try to keep up.¡±


    ¡°Cole!¡±


    He doesn¡¯t answer,ughing as he ducks back into the storage room. I grumble to myself as I close up the register, but it¡¯s with a smile. The man is impossible. Larger than life. Absurd. The whole thing between us is absurd. A casual rtionship that is feeling less and less casual by the day.


    Cole helps me to turn off the lights and lock up. His hand is on the low of my back when we finally leave, Between the Pages dark and safe behind us.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t like the fact that you work alone in the evenings.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°We close at six, some days seven at thetest. It¡¯s not exactly midnight. Besides, we have cameras installed.¡±


    ¡°They only help after an incident, not before.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no money to hire anyone else. Besides, there are only two weeks left until we know if we¡¯ll even stay open.¡± My words hang in the air between us, a truth we¡¯ve both been avoiding. I force some cheerfulness into my voice. ¡°We¡¯re not discussing that. Tell me what we¡¯re doing instead.¡±


    He opens the car door for me, the crooked smile on his lips. He knows I chose to sidestep thendmine of a subject. ¡°You might say no. It¡¯d bepletely fine if you did. I¡¯d understand. It¡¯s a bit¡­ adventurous.¡±


    Is he suggesting what I think he¡¯s suggesting?


    I narrow my eyes at him, and he gazes serenely back at me. ¡°I¡¯m open to trying most¡­ things, you know. But now you¡¯re making me imagine the worst.¡± I nce toward Charles in the driver¡¯s seat before lowering my voice. ¡°Can we discuss thister?¡±


    Cole leans his head back against the headrest. ¡°Your mind went straight there, didn¡¯t it?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 49

    ¡°You¡¯re not talking about¡­?¡±


    His smile is massive. ¡°No. But now you¡¯re making me wish I was. No, I was going to ask you to be my date to an event tonight.¡±


    ¡°Your date?¡±


    ¡°Like, out in public?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s usually the way it works, yes.¡± His eyes glittering, he leans in closer, setting arge hand on my thigh. ¡°Brooks & King are having a social tonight.¡±


    ¡°No way.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯d said no months ago, but when I received yet another email about it today¡­ well. It might be fun.¡±


    Fun. That¡¯s a mild way to put it. Brooks & King is one of the biggest publishing houses on this side of the country. When I¡¯d been a student, I¡¯d followed their vacancies religiously, looking for updates on traineeships and junior positions.


    He¡¯ll be recognized. If we go together, I might be, too. ¡°We can¡¯t take any pictures together,¡± I say.


    ¡°Agreed.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I need a code name. Do you think Skye is too umon?¡±


    Cole¡¯s lips quirk, and leaning back against the headrest, he¡¯s watching me through hooded eyes. ¡°That¡¯s where your mind went first?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a legitimate concern,¡± I say, but there¡¯s no seriousness in my voice. ¡°Oh, Cole. Are you really sure? Can we go?¡±


    His thumb smooths over my thigh. ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Oh! We¡¯ll need to stop at my ce. I can¡¯t go dressed like this!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re already on our way.¡±


    I lean back in the seat, closing my eyes at the rush of excitement pulsing through me. Brooks & King! And Cole, doing this for me. He said he wouldn¡¯t have gone to the event otherwise.


    A small portion of my mind is telling me to focus on that. To dissect it. To face the facts-his actions, from giving Timmy the best night of his life to this event, are making it harder and harder for me to stay emotionally uninvolved. Hush, I tell it. A bit more living and a little less thinking. At least for tonight.


    Back in my apartment, Cole has a seat on my bed while I get dressed. ¡°Seen it all already,¡± he says by way of exnation, but judging from the way his eyes rake over my body, he¡¯s enjoying the show.


    ¡°First row seat, huh?¡±


    He leans back on his hands, eyes darkening. ¡°You¡¯re stunning.¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    Empowered, I change into a matching set of lingerie. While he watches, I slide the redce underwear up my thighs, tugging them in ce on my hips.


    ¡°Forter,¡± I say.


    Cole¡¯s jaw clenches. ¡°You have about two more minutes to get dressed, and if you¡¯re not done by then, we¡¯re not leaving at all.¡±


    ¡°Is this testing your self-control?¡±


    ¡°More than you can imagine.¡±


    Iugh, slipping into my silkiest ck dress. It hangs off my shoulders on two spaghetti straps and falls nearly to my knees, but hugs my form. It¡¯s indecently decent. ¡°I¡¯m done,¡± I say. ¡°I want to sleep with you, but I really want to go to the Brooks & King event, too.¡±


    ¡°This is how it starts,¡± he says morosely. ¡°I¡¯m getting reced.¡±


    I grab his hand and pull him out of my bedroom, stopping in the bathroom to put on a dab of perfume. ¡°Not at all. For now, I¡¯m determined to have my cake and eat it too.¡±


    Charles drives us to a beautiful vi by Lake Union, a wrap-around porch extending onto the water. Lights illuminate the driveway as he cruises through wrought-iron gates. Cole has fallen silent beside me, but at my quiet intake of breath he smiles.


    ¡°It¡¯s a nice ce they¡¯ve rented,¡± he remarks.


    A valet approaches, intent on opening the car door for us, and nerves reawaken in my stomach. My silk dress feels too cheap; my makeup too simple. I¡¯m here as a plus-one-what do I have to talk to these people about?


    Cole steps out beside me and puts a hand on the low of my back. ¡°We¡¯ll stay for as long as you want,¡± he whispers in my ear. ¡°Or however short.¡±


    My grip on his arm loosens. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    We walk up the oak steps together. A small jazz band is ying music in the corner; along the opposite wall is a giant table of books with a small gold-ted sign. New Releases. Something in me rxes immediately. They have books here.


    A middle-aged man approaches us, hand outstretched. ¡°Mr. Porter! We¡¯re so happy you could make it!¡±


    Cole gives the man¡¯s hand a firm shake. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure.¡±


    ¡°Did you just arrive?¡±


    ¡°We did, yes.¡± Cole nods to me. ¡°This is Mr. Edwin Taylor, of Brooks & King¡¯s executive department.¡±


    He extends a hand to me-to me! ¡°Skye Hond,¡± I say, shaking his hand firmly. ¡°I¡¯m Brooks & King¡¯s biggest customer.¡±


    His eyes light up with delight, darting from me to Cole. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°An exaggeration perhaps, but a slight one,¡± Cole says dryly. ¡°She¡¯s both an avid reader and a writer.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Edwin says, smiling at me. ¡°Well, you should fit right in tonight. The table over there disys all of our uing releases. Feel free to look around and talk to our guests. Most of our department heads are here tonight. Ask anything you want, anything at all.¡±


    Cole nods, like this is a perfectly normal thing to be offered. ¡°Lovely. We¡¯ll talk to you again, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°I hope so.¡± Edwin smiles at me again. ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Miss Hond.¡±


    As soon as we¡¯re out of earshot from other guests, I turn to Cole, unable to hide my excitement. ¡°The head of their executive department?¡±


    His lips quirk. ¡°Figured you¡¯d get a kick out of this event.¡±


    ¡°We get to see their releases ahead of time? Before they¡¯re announced? That¡¯s wild!¡±


    ¡°And the way he spoke to you¡­ You were invited to this? Why?¡±


    Cole shrugs, ignoring the nces several in the room are aiming his way. I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s to admire his looks or his power. ¡°I¡¯m invited to most things. You asked me about it once, actually.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 50

    ¡°I did?¡±


    ¡°You were delirious with fever at the time. I¡¯m not surprised you don¡¯t remember.¡±


    I slip my hand into his. ¡°Probably a good thing I can¡¯t remember. It can¡¯t have been the only thing I said.¡±


    Cole leans forward and presses a kiss to my temple. It¡¯s be his thing, and leaning in to his touch, I don¡¯t object to it at all. ¡°You were delightful.¡±


    ¡°Until I kicked you out afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Until then, yes. Come on. Let¡¯s get you introduced to all these notorious department heads.¡±


    At Cole¡¯s side, the world is my oyster, it seems. We¡¯re stopped every few feet by well-wishers, investors, publishers, marketeers and authors. I try and fail to remember all the names given to me. Cole nods and listens, but rarely speaks, letting me handle most of the conversations. I do my best, talking about the literary industry, and yet¡­ most of their eyes dart to him regrly. Monitoring his expression, I imagine.


    Only a few people are exceptions. Edwin Taylores up again to ask my opinion on their new releases, a conversation that Cole politely excuses himself from. The head of modern English poetry wants to talk to me at length after I mention that I work in a bookshop, leading to another fascinating discussion about the future of print media.


    I¡¯m on my second ss of champagne when I finally spot Cole again. He¡¯s surrounded by men in suits, standing in a semicircle with Cole at its center. With his drink in hand and the smile on his lips, it looks effortless. Like he¡¯s enjoying himself. But I¡¯ve learned when that smile is true and when it¡¯s a charming facade.


    He excuses himself immediately when he sees me alone.


    ¡°Thank God,¡± he murmurs, sliding an arm around my waist. ¡°Never leave me alone again.¡±


    ¡°You were the one who left me,¡± I point out.Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Right you are.¡± He takes a sip of his whiskey. ¡°What a mistake.¡±


    I peer up at him. ¡°That looked like an ambush.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it was.¡±


    I nce at the people around us, some already watching us with interest, some looking for an opportunity to approach. ¡°They really wanted you here, huh?¡±


    ¡°They usually do.¡±


    I straighten hispels, a disturbing thought taking ce. I pitch my voice low for his ears only. ¡°They want you to invest?¡±


    He nods. ¡°Publishing is a struggling industry. They probably invited every potential investor in the state to this.¡±


    ¡°Money opens doors,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says dryly, ¡°but they close awfully fast when people realize you have no intention of parting with yours.¡±


    I put my hands t on his chest. ¡°Thank you for this.¡±


    He looks down, perhaps surprised at my sincerity. ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to be here. I get that, with all these people sucking up to you.¡±


    His lips quirk. ¡°Well. I do like some people sucking up to me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, ¡°so you¡¯ve said before.¡±


    Another thought strikes me. ¡°The people that have been nice to me. Do you think they¡¯ve been genuine? Take Mr. Taylor, for example. Was he nice to me in the hopes that I¡¯d convince you to invest?¡±


    Cole sighs, his eyes draining of amusement. My suspicions aren¡¯tpletely far-fetched, then. ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell you,¡± he says. ¡°And honestly, I¡¯ve stopped trying to parse it out. You¡¯ll drive yourself insane with that kind of thinking.¡±


    A realization he¡¯s had toe to. Ever since he became someone who¡¯s invited to these events, someone to manipte or coerce. Imagine having to live like that-knowing that the people close to you might be using you. It strikes me as profoundly sad. Maybe that¡¯s why he¡¯s friends with Nichs Park. One billionaire doesn¡¯t need another, not in any financial sense.


    I nod toward the porch, where the light ripples across theke. The night is warm and beautiful and the champagne is sweet. ¡°Let¡¯s get some air.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be followed,¡± he warns.


    I slip my hand into his and pull him along to the far edge of the porch. It¡¯s a secluded corner, with ivy and jasmine growing intertwined up the post. In the dim light, Cole¡¯s eyes glitter. ¡°Here? Are you nning on having your way with me?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a spot you go to mingle,¡± I say. ¡°I dare them to interrupt us here.¡±


    ¡°You have a mean streak.¡±


    ¡°You knew that already.¡±


    He inclines his head, a smile hovering around his lips. ¡°So I did.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what this reminds me of?¡± I reach over and touch my champagne ss to his whiskey, the amber liquid barely coating the bottom. ¡°The night we met.¡±


    ¡°Mmm. The Legacy bar. Best hotel I¡¯ve ever built.¡±


    I lean in closer. ¡°What did you really think that night?¡±


    ¡°That you were gorgeous. I said I was people-watching, if you remember.¡± He swirls his ss around, eyes on me. ¡°But I mostly watched you.¡±


    I take a sip of the champagne, cool against my parched throat. ¡°Would you havee up to me? If the creep next to me hadn¡¯t tried to hit on me?¡±


    He moves closer, his body shielding mepletely from any nosy guests who might follow us out. ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t usually strike up conversations with women in bars. But that night¡­ eventually, I would¡¯ve had to.¡±


    ¡°Andter?¡±


    ¡°What did I thinkter?¡±


    I nod, licking my lips. ¡°When we went to your hotel room.¡±


    ¡°A hotel room,¡± he corrects softly. ¡°When you went to the restroom, I got management on the phone. They gave me a key card.¡±


    My eyes widen. ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And to answer your question¡­ well, when we went to bed, I thought you were cute. Shy, but determined to be brave.¡±


    I look down. ¡°I was aiming for gorgeous and seductive.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 51

    ¡°Oh, Skye, you were,¡± he says, voice dropping low. ¡°So fucking irresistible, it killed me.¡±


    ¡°Shy and seductive don¡¯t mix.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    His breath is by my ear, his voice a dark caress. ¡°In you they most definitely do. Do you remember when we had sex the first time?¡±


    Oh God. I nod, my nipples tight against the fabric of my dress. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Tell me what I did.¡±


    ¡°You made me show you how I touched myself in the mirror.¡± I lean my forehead against his shoulder, closing my eyes at the waves of desire and embarrassment at war inside me. ¡°So you could replicate it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± His lips touch the outer rim of my ear. ¡°And then¡­?¡±


    ¡°Then you did the same thing, but with your tongue.¡± A breath. ¡°I came.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you certainly did.¡±


    ¡°And then you¡­¡± I trail off, swallowing at the memory of him pushing inside me, of his groan at that first sensation. My pulse skitters rmingly. ¡°Cole, let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    His grip on my hand is almost bruising. ¡°Thought you¡¯d never ask.¡± He pulls me back through the throng of people. He takes long strides but I keep up, hurrying along beside him. No one stops us-not until the veryst moment. Edwin Taylor smiles at us and offers both of us his business card. ¡°If you ever feel like talking new releases,¡± he tells me.


    The drive back to my apartment is mostly quiet, but Cole¡¯s hand is in mine, his thumb smoothing small circles across the back. Electricity is dancing across my skin from the simple touch. When did we be a hand-holding couple? When did we be a couple at all?


    The car slides to a smooth halt outside my building. ¡°Thank you, Charles,¡± Cole says. ¡°Tomorrow morning, please.¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir.¡±


    His arms are around me the second we hit the sidewalk. I chuckle, pulling him along to my front door. ¡°Tomorrow morning, huh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m staying the night.¡± He reaches over my head and pushes the front door open for me with one firm shove. ¡°Hearing you narrate the first time we had sex has me more than a little worked up.¡±


    My breath ising fast when I unlock the door to my apartment. Behind me, Cole locks the door, the sound of a discarded suit jacket hitting the floor a secondter.


    I slide the zipper down. ¡°Remember thece lingerie I put on?¡±


    ¡°Fuck yes.¡± His hands are there, pulling, my dress pooling at my feet. ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it all evening, just like you wanted me to.¡±


    His breath is uneven against my cheek as I unbutton his shirt. ¡°Remember when you fucked me against the hotel wall?¡±


    Cole doesn¡¯t answer. He lifts me up instead, my legs wrapping around his waist, his voice a growl. ¡°Yes.¡±


    I¡¯m airborne and flying and then I¡¯m eased down onto my bed. Cole stands back and tugs off his shirt. I could never get tired of the sight-tan skin, a smattering of hair, the deep V of his stomach. Never stop swimming, I think. Whatever you¡¯re doing is working.


    I tug at one of thecy cups of my bra, teasing my nipple with my fingers. Cole¡¯s eyes zero in on my breasts. It¡¯s empowering, the effect I have on him. ¡°You¡¯re unreal,¡± he murmurs.


    I smile at him. ¡°And you¡¯re too far away. Come here.¡±


    He does, sliding atop of me. I¡¯d expected quick. Hard. Perhaps against a wall, like I¡¯d mentioned. But Cole does theplete opposite.


    He kisses me senseless, his body atop mine, tongue moving slow and deep. A hand skates across my hipbone to my legs, teasing me through the fabric of my panties.


    ¡°So wet,¡± he murmurs, lips trailing down to my nipple. ¡°Do you know how good it makes me feel that you¡¯re always wet for me?¡± I want to respond, but then he¡¯s biting, and my words turn into gasps. ¡°Like the epitome of masculinity,¡± he continues softly. ¡°You called me that as a joke once. But when you¡¯re wet like this for me, fuck if I don¡¯t feel like it.¡±


    I roll my hips against his hand, reaching down to slide his silken hair through my fingers. ¡°Not a joke,¡± I breathe. ¡°I want you.¡±


    ¡°I want you too.¡±


    ¡°Inside me.¡±


    He rests his head against my hip, his breath a warm gust across my skin. ¡°Fucking hell, Skye. Let me make youe first.¡±


    ¡°No. I want us to together.¡± I grab his shoulders and tug him up to me, and Cole lets me, our lips meeting once more. I could lie like this forever-with him bearing me down into the mattress and kissing me. He turns it into an art, something to be appreciated and experienced and savored. But then he throbs against my stomach and desire sweeps my senses away again.


    ¡°Skye¡­¡± he murmurs against my skin as he strips off my underwear, eyes and hands pausing over every inch of flesh he uncovers. And when he finally settles between my legs and pushes in, both of us groan at the feeling.


    I wrap my legs around him. ¡°Yes. Just like this.¡±


    Colees down on his elbows, covering mepletely, thrusting deep and slow. ¡°I¡¯d fuck you forever if I could.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d let you.¡±


    His movements are deliberate, hitting spots inside me that make me close my eyes and hold on. Our skin quickly turns slick where it¡¯s touching-and we¡¯re touching everywhere.


    ¡°You feel so goddamn good,¡± he groans. I run my hands up his back, lightly using my fingernails, and struggle to form a response. Rational thought is disappearing with every beat of his heart against mine. It¡¯s flesh against flesh, man against woman, my breasts against his hair-roughened chest.


    He changes his angle, hitting just the right spot, and oh! ¡°Yes,¡± I gasp. ¡°Just like that.¡±


    Cole¡¯s smile isn¡¯t ironic or crooked or teasing. It¡¯s wide with pleasure. He redoubles his efforts, maintaining the angle and moving strong and sure above me. With every thrust the pressure inside me builds.


    It takes me, crests, and I grip him hard. All I can do is hold on.


    Cole loses his grip on himself as soon as I do. His thrusts be urgent, shallow, as he buries his head against my neck. His body tightens against me and he groans as he shatters.


    The silence that follows isplete. I hold him, thinking that he could fall asleep like this and I would say thank you.


    He makes to move and I tighten my legs around him. ¡°No. Not yet.¡±


    Heughs warmly against my skin. ¡°So bossy.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°Never stop.¡± He pushes up on his elbows to kiss me. ¡°God¡­¡±


    I kiss him back. ¡°It¡¯s still just me.¡±


    ¡°Funny.¡± He sits up, easily breaking the hold of my legs. ¡°Was I too rough?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 52

    ¡°Good.¡± A hand moves down to where I¡¯m sensitive, at the clear evidence of hisck of condom. ¡°I prefer this,¡± he says. ¡°Maybe it makes me a caveman.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Just a man, I think.¡±


    He stretches out next to me, his face rxed, the usual lines of determination or amusement gone. ¡°Well, this man feels ten feet tall.¡± His hand skates across my hip, up to my waist, curving softly over my skin. ¡°You came.¡±


    There¡¯s no point in denying it, and no chance of hiding it, either. It had been pretty obvious. ¡°Yes. About to gloat?¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    Cole¡¯s warmughter washes over my skin. ¡°No. But I do want to hear you talk about it.¡±


    ¡°My orgasm?¡±


    ¡°Your story with them. You told me in the hotel room that it was unusual for you toe with a partner.¡±


    Oh, God. I want to bury my face in the pillow and hide from the things past me had clearly had no problem spilling. At the time, I¡¯d had no intention of ever seeing him again-and I¡¯d surrenderedpletely to the skills of his hands and mouth.


    Coleughs again, pulling my body into the hard contours of his. ¡°Don¡¯t be shy around me. Not anymore.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. And for the record, at the hotel that night, you pretty much fucked all the sense out of me. I can¡¯t be held responsible for anything I said.¡±


    ¡°Up,¡± he instructs, and I lift my head so he can slide a muscr arm underneath my neck. He¡¯s warm, like a space heater. ¡°You thought it was that good?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Why? It wasn¡¯t for you?¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°That night was unreal, Skye. But I¡¯m vain enough to enjoy hearing you say it.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that was in question.¡±


    ¡°Well, you did leave without saying goodbye.¡± Heughs at my groan, his hand closing warmly around my breast. Absentmindedly, his thumb toys with my nipple. ¡°I won¡¯t start that discussion again. You¡¯re deflecting, by the way. It won¡¯t stand.¡±


    I groan again. ¡°Do you really want to know?¡±


    I release a breath. ¡°Fine. Well, I¡¯ve had one long-term rtionship, in college. Aside from that, my only sexual encounters have been¡­ well, short-term.¡±


    ¡°One-night stands,¡± he says.


    I purse my lips. ¡°No. Not exactly. I¡¯ve dated two guys that I¡¯ve also slept with. Not at the same time, I mean. But things progressed far enough that we slept together, but weren¡¯t in a rtionship? And then it ended. So three. I¡¯ve slept with three guys.¡±


    Cole¡¯s lips are curved in a genuine smile. ¡°You¡¯re doing an excellent job at exining this.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I wasn¡¯t prepared for this grueling pop quiz about my past sex life.¡±


    ¡°Only about your orgasms,¡± he sayszily, kissing me. ¡°But I wee all the information you¡¯re sharing.¡±


    I shove him lightly and heughs, arms tightening around me. ¡°How can you me me? You¡¯ve already told me I¡¯m the best you¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    ¡°I have not said that!¡±


    ¡°Yes you have. Several times.¡± He flips me over, lips trailing down my neck. His shoulders block out the dim lighting from my bedsidemp. ¡°You say a lot of things when you¡¯re in the throes of passion. Or feverish.¡±


    I groan, but it quickly bes one of pleasure when his lips close around my nipple. My embarrassment evaporates, fading away in a rush of sensation and dizzying feeling. ¡°None of them made mee,¡± I say softly. ¡°Not regrly. And I wasn¡¯tfortable enough to show them how I wanted to be touched.¡±


    He bites my nipple softly before releasing it, looking up at me with eyes that ze. ¡°What a shame,¡± he says darkly. ¡°And yet¡­ I¡¯m more than happy to pick up their ck.¡±


    Cole kisses down my body slowly, like we have all the time in the world, and I lose myself in his touch. When we¡¯re like this, it¡¯s easy to pretend that we do.


    Karli bursts through the door to the bookstore twenty minutes before her shift starts. ¡°Skye, you won¡¯t believe this.¡±


    I hold up the tote bag I¡¯ve been admiring for the past half hour. ¡°You won¡¯t believe this either. Look. What do you think? I sketched the logo design on itst night.¡±


    She pauses in front of the register, a newspaper in hand. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s nice.¡±


    ¡°Nice? If-sorry, when-we get the green g to stay in business, we could produce and sell these. It¡¯s cute. It¡¯s quirky. It¡¯s eco-friendly. It¡¯s your neighborhood book bag. This is just a prototype, but-¡±


    Karli ms the newspaper on the register. ¡°Look.¡±


    I do.


    Cole is on the front page.


    They¡¯ve captured him walking out from a Porter Development building, the skyscraper rising imposing and tall behind him. He¡¯s on his phone, and for once, he¡¯s not smiling.


    The headline screams the using words at me. ¡°Billionaire¡¯s dirty backstory revealed,¡± I read, murmuring the words.


    ¡°You need to read this article,¡± Karli says. ¡°Apparently he cut out his old business partner. He was stone cold about the whole thing.¡±


    I flip through the newspaper in search for the story. His business partner, his business partner¡­ the one who¡¯dmissioned an expensive logo?


    The article is a full spread. Karli is practically seething beside me, pointing out things before I reach them. ¡°He made Ben sign a non-disclosure agreement,¡± she says. ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s his wife who¡¯s doing the talking.¡±


    ¡°Ben?¡±


    ¡°Ben Simmons. Cole Porter¡¯s former business partner.¡± She points to the picture in the spread of Ben and his wife. It¡¯s a beautiful image. They¡¯re sitting close together on a couch, her hands sped around his, the picture of support.


    I shake my head. ¡°Wait, wait, I have to read.¡± My eyes skim the questions and the answers, each more damning than thest. Elena, Ben¡¯s wife, is the one who does most of the talking. They were school friends, she answers. And then to be cut off like that¡­


    The reporter interjects here-asking about the exact details. Ben¡¯s the one who responds to that. I couldn¡¯t tell you. I wish I could, but I was forced to sign an NDA. I would have been left with nothing if I hadn¡¯t.


    I scan the rest, every sentence, every question worse than the one before. Something sinks inside me. Could Cole have done this? Cole, who invited my nephew along to a baseball game?


    ¡°It¡¯s a story. Stories can be twisted,¡± I say faintly.


    Karli snorts. ¡°Yeah, but not that much. God, can you imagine that we might have to see him again? He¡¯s even more of a snake than we thought.¡±


    ¡°Apparently Ben was the one who actually built the business. He says so, at the end.¡±


    I scan the final lines. The reporter asks if it¡¯s fair to say that Ben had been the brains behind the operation. Simmons looks down, a faint smile on his face. ¡°Cole was my best friend, once,¡± he says. ¡°But no, he was never the smartest of men. He had the trust fund and I had the ideas. It was a goodbo until it wasn¡¯t.¡±


    Anger and fear chase each other inside me, running in aggravated circles. Cole is one of the smartest men I¡¯ve ever met-so Ben¡¯s wrong on that ount. But is he wrong regarding the rest?

 Billion Dollar Enemy 53

    Cole can be ruthless. I¡¯ve witnessed that. He¡¯s good friends with Nichs Park-and that man has quite the reputation for the unsavory.


    ¡°He might not honor our agreement,¡± Karli continues. ¡°We have to ept that possibility. What do we do if he doesn¡¯t? Would our bargain hold up in court?¡±


    I sink into the chair. ¡°No clue.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Cutting out his own best friend for profit. Disgusting.¡±


    ¡°Seems like it.¡±


    Karli¡¯s face swims into view, her mouth set in determined lines. ¡°And that was the guy you went toe to toe with, Skye! I¡¯m more proud of you than ever. He might be a sleazeball, but we can hold our heads up high.¡±


    Hold our heads up high.


    If she only knew, I think. She¡¯d never look at me the same way again.


    Karli¡¯s eyes widen, a sudden realization settling in. ¡°Maybe he¡¯d take it out on you if we win the bargain. Judging by our spike in customers, we might.¡±


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know him. Look at this¡­ he cut off his best friend! Made him sign an NDA?¡± She shakes her head at the article. ¡°And this is the Seattle Tribune. They wouldn¡¯t publish just anything, either. You can bet this was fact-checked.¡±


    Each of her words falls heavier than the next, until I feel bent under the pressure. ¡°Sorry, I have to¡­ Can you watch the register for a minute? I have to use the bathroom.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. One minute.¡±


    And in our little three-square-feet bathroom, I break downpletely. It¡¯s not pretty. It¡¯s not even rational. And still, I have to grip the sink to keep my breath from running away from mepletely. The article is either a smear piece or a daring expos¨¦.


    And I have no idea what to believe.


    My first instinct is to call him. To text. To hear him say It¡¯s not true, Skye. Of course it¡¯s not. You¡¯re a writer. You know how writers write.


    But isn¡¯t that exactly what someone who was trying to manipte me would say? Someone who wants to see this business demolished. Someone who¡¯s been damn good at making me think they¡¯d stopped caring about it. He¡¯d hinted that winning wasn¡¯t important to him anymore.


    That I was important instead.


    And I¡¯d believed him.


    The baseball game. The publisher event. Was it all a lie?


    I shake my head at myself in the mirror. If I was being yed for a fool, at least my eyes are open now, thanks to Ben Simmons. That is a good thing.


    And if I wasn¡¯t¡­ well, I can¡¯t let myself consider that, not yet. Not while my chest feels like it¡¯s copsing in on itself. Karli¡¯s wordse back to me, the ones that carried the most weight. The Seattle Tribune wouldn¡¯t publish just anything. They would fact check. They had probably reached out to Cole for ament, even.


    The look Karli gives me when Ie out of the bathroom is sympathetic. She puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Of course this made you think that it¡¯s futile, but it¡¯s truly not. We might still have a chance to pull this off.¡±


    I nod. Inside, I¡¯ve never felt more like a fraud. I don¡¯t deserve her friendship, or her support, not right now. The bookstore is hers, after all. Eleanor was her grandmother. Not mine.


    ¡°We¡¯ll just have to work harder,¡± I say faintly. ¡°We have a week left.¡±


    She nods. ¡°That¡¯s right. And if pushes to shove, he¡¯s not getting us to sign any NDAs!¡±


    I hmm in agreement, returning to stacking shelves with my mind whirling. And despite my phone burning a hole in my pocket that day, I don¡¯t contact Cole, and he doesn¡¯t contact me. He must have his hands full.


    He¡¯s either devastated by the article or pissed off that his former business partner found a way to circumvent the non-disclosure agreement.


    And I¡¯m not sure I want to find out which one it is yet.


    The next day marks exactly one week until our two-month agreement with Porter Developmentes to an end. Karli has a meeting with Chloe in a few days, and the both of them will pore over the numbers to see if we can present a profitable store.


    Karli and I have been ramping each other up constantly. ¡°We can do this,¡± Karli tells me again, as much for herself as for me.


    ¡°Oh, absolutely. We¡¯ve seen more customers these past few weeks than ever before. We¡¯re good.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re good,¡± she repeats. ¡°We¡¯re good.¡±


    Her eyes flick to the back wall, and I wonder if she¡¯s thinking of the same thing I am. The framed picture of Eleanor in front of Between the Pages from when it opened. It¡¯s hung there so long there¡¯s a square mark in the wallpaper behind it.


    The day is a blur of sales and Instagram updates and hanging sale signs. I hang a huge one in the window disy and add a handwritten note that exins our situation. One week left to make a difference, I write in the heading. Do you want our store to remain?


    It¡¯s desperate, but these are desperate times.


    The doorbell jingles an hour before closing, and not with a customer. Middle-aged. A frown on his features. And wearing a T-shirt with an all-too-familiar logo. This time, it¡¯s not peppered with darts.


    He walks straight up to the register. ¡°Good afternoon.¡±


    I brace my hands against the counter. ¡°Hi. I wasn¡¯t aware we had a scheduled appointment with Porter Development today.¡±


    He gives me an unpleasant smile and pulls out a construction ruler from his pocket. ¡°I was sent to inspect the property in preparation.¡±


    ¡°Inspect?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He taps the ruler against the desk, looking around with appraising eyes. ¡°Take the building¡¯s measurements and inspect the construction. After all, we need to know how big of a wrecking ball to bring.¡±


    ¡°Nothing has been decided yet,¡± I grind out.


    His smile is irreverent. ¡°That¡¯s for you to bring up to my boss, or my boss¡¯s boss. I¡¯m here on orders, and to the best of my knowledge, we¡¯re razing the building within the month.¡±


    ¡°Not on my watch.¡±


    The man chuckles, like I¡¯ve made a joke. His voice turns syrupy. ¡°All right, sweetheart.¡±


    Sweetheart? The nerve! ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Max kefield.¡±


    ¡°Well, you won¡¯t be measuring inside this store today, not until youe back here with a scheduled appointment that has gone from your boss or boss¡¯s boss to us.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 54

    The smile he aims me is patronizing. ¡°I¡¯m to measure the building on the outside, which requires no agreement from you. Free country, after all.¡± He has me beat, and he can see it on my face, because he gives a slick nod. ¡°You have a good day, now.¡±


    He strolls out of the bookstore, measurer in hand, like he does this all the time. My fingers ache from clenching so hard around the edge of the counter. If this was a cartoon, smoke would being out of my ears, I¡¯m so angry. A wrecking ball, he said. His boss¡¯s boss.


    So much for honoring agreements, it seems. Porter Development seems intent on tearing the building down. Are Karli and I going to be the next Ben Simmons?


    My hands fly furiously as I write a text to Cole.


    Skye Hond: I close up the store soon. Can Ie to yours after?


    His response doesn¡¯t take long, and it¡¯s thankfully in a text, too. I¡¯m not sure I could¡¯ve kept my emotions hidden on the phone, and this is a conversation I want to have in person.


    Cole Porter: Yes. I¡¯ll be home by seven.


    I¡¯m in the lobby of the Amena at six fifty-eight. My fingers twitch at my side, too pumped up on adrenaline and nerves for my own good. Potential scenarios dance in my mind. Him admitting that our casual affair was all just amusement, that he had never nned to honor the agreement. The crooked smile twisted sardonically.


    Or, worse, him telling me that the bookstore had never had a shot in the first ce, eyes as patronizing as the handyman he¡¯d sent today. My nerves increase with each floor I pass on my way up to his penthouse.


    The elevator doors open to an empty hallway. He¡¯s not in the kitchen, either. I lean around the corner, peering toward the living room. ¡°Cole?¡±


    ¡°Coming!¡±


    He emerges from his home office, a hand tugging at the tie around his neck. ¡°You came fast.¡±


    ¡°I sure did. What happened today?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You sent one of your men to the bookstore today.¡±


    His face grows still. ¡°I absolutely did not.¡±


    ¡°A certain Max kefield seemed to think otherwise. He showed up to measure the store for a correctly sized wrecking ball. Said the ce would be razed within a month-and that if I believed otherwise, I¡¯d better talk to his boss¡¯s boss.¡± I spread my arms wide. ¡°So here I am.¡±


    Cole is shaking his head slowly. ¡°I don¡¯t know a Max kefield. Must be one of our contractors.¡±


    ¡°He was wearing a shirt with your logo. Looked like a builder.¡± My eyes snag on his expensive suit, stretching taut across his frame. ¡°A real builder, I mean. He was wearing boots and work pants.¡±


    There¡¯s a silken thread of warning in his voice. ¡°He was wrong. Thepany still ns to honor its agreement.¡±


    ¡°You mean you do.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, like that¡¯s the same thing. But it¡¯s not.


    ¡°Your employees seem to think otherwise.¡± I swallow hard, lifting my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. ¡°We saw the article yesterday. Karli is doubting that you honor agreements at all.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± He grinds the word out between his teeth. ¡°So that¡¯s what this is really about, huh? And is Karli the only one who is doubting?¡±


    ¡°I have some doubts too,¡± I say honestly. Doubts about us. What you¡¯ve been doing. And why you¡¯ve been doing it.


    ¡°Nine hundred words in a newspaper, and you¡¯re rattled. I thought you were a writer yourself, Skye. You know how things are twisted.¡± The words are yful, but his tone is not.


    ¡°So it¡¯s not true? What he said in the interview?¡± I ask. Cole just stares at me, and the silence grows heavy between us in a way it never has before. I¡¯m furious about my own vulnerability to him-that I care so much about the answer. That I¡¯ve given him this power over me.


    ¡°Did I make Ben Simmons sign an NDA?¡± he asks, voice trembling with barely concealed fury. ¡°Yes. Did I cut him off from the business? Yes. And I¡¯d do it again in a heartbeat, Skye.¡±


    My chest feels like it¡¯s copsing, constricting, anger and fear choking off a response.


    ¡°And now you¡¯re wondering about my character,¡± he continues. ¡°What I would do to get what I want.¡±


    I give a shallow nod, clenching my fists hard enough that my nails dig into my palm. ¡°They say you¡¯re ruthless. That you always win. Maybe you knowingly sent one of your men to the bookstore today to rattle us. Maybe you didn¡¯t, but you might as well have, Cole. We made a deal.¡±


    ¡°Hold on,¡± he warns.


    But my thoughts are leaping from one conclusion to another. ¡°All this time, I thought sleeping with me was fun for you. Good sex. Maybe it was for sport, too. But now¡­ was it to throw me off bnce? To gain leverage?¡±


    A swift shadow crosses over his face, jaw hardening. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like to lose. Ben Simmons confirmed it. You just confirmed it, when you said he¡¯d spoken true.¡±


    Cole starts undoing the cuffs of his shirt in harsh, quick movements. ¡°No, I don¡¯t like to lose. Neither do you, by the way. We¡¯re bothpetitive.¡±


    ¡°I can be an asshole sometimes. You¡¯ve pointed that out yourself. But to the best of my knowledge, I¡¯m not amoral.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t imply that you were.¡±


    ¡°You just asked me if I¡¯m fucking you to gain the upper hand in our business deal. Not that I understand how that would help me, exactly. Does your business lose profit, one orgasm at a time?¡± He shakes his head, an unhappy smile on his face. ¡°I¡¯m not, by the way.¡±


    My throat feels like it¡¯s closing in on itself. ¡°You admitted to cutting off your best friend. How could I not ask?¡±


    Cole braces his hands against the kitchen counter. ¡°You want to know the real truth about Ben and Elena, his loving wife? Ben and I built the business together. I did most of the strategizing and he brought on investors. Always had a good eye for marketing and building a story.¡± He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. ¡°Toward the end, he wasn¡¯t pulling his weight. Skipping out on business trips. Making bad decisions without consulting me. But he was my best friend, so I gave him second chances.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I breathe.


    His voice hardens. ¡°Elena didn¡¯t like me working so much. She was my fianc¨¦e, by the way. They didn¡¯t mention that in their little interview.¡± He looks away from me, jaw working. ¡°They¡¯d been sleeping together for nearly two years when I found out.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Cole¡­¡±


    ¡°So yes, I forced him out. It wasn¡¯t hard. I had our staff¡¯s loyalty, the majority of our shares, our clients¡¯ trust. But I left him with more money than anyone should need in a lifetime.¡±


    He pushes away from the counter, shrugging off his suit jacket and dropping it on his couch. ¡°Is that enough humiliation for you? Or do you want to use me of something else?¡±


    ¡°Cole¡­¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°Spare me the pity, please. I¡¯ve had more than enough of that from my own staff.¡±


    I swallow against the dryness in my throat. I feel rooted to the spot, not sure if I should go to him or leave him alone. I¡¯de here to talk, to get to the bottom of things, to make sense of it all. And I¡¯m left feeling like it all went sideways somehow, without knowing where it went wrong.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he calls out, not bothering to turn around. ¡°We¡¯re just sleeping together. Your business deal still stands.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 55

    To my horror, something burns behind my eyes, and I don¡¯t know if the tears are from embarrassment, anger, or something far more dangerous. Hurt. I hurry to the elevator.


    Cole doesn¡¯t try to stop me.


    The past two days have been an absolute shitshow, from morning to evening. Everyone has read Ben and Elena¡¯s article, it seems. ir calls me to ask if I¡¯m doing okay, as if she¡¯s just found out I have a terminal illness. My mom calls, too, and is far less tactful. Didn¡¯t you take care of them?


    Yes, Mom, but I forced them out of mypany and my life. I didn¡¯t order a hit on them.


    From talking to my PR team to my assistant to the board of investors, the entire day had been damage control. ¡°We need to put out a counter-statement,¡± Tyra kept saying to me, one of ourpanywyers. ¡°This is terrible for your reputation.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Porter¡­ it¡¯s nder.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s gossip.¡±


    ¡°Gossip that will take root.¡±


    I¡¯d squared my shoulders and stood firm. Repudiating the im would require exining what really happened, and I¡¯d had quite enough of humiliation to relive it in front of all of Seattle. Coming home from a weeklong business trip early to find Ben and Elena in my master bed had cured me of any masochistic tendencies.


    Bryan had agreed on a tactic of silence. ¡°It makes you look powerful,¡± he¡¯d said to me in an aside. ¡°Notmenting on it makes it seem like you¡¯re either above it, or it¡¯s true. Both enhance your business reputation.¡± I had nothing to say to that, not out loud, but I made a mental note to give Bryan a raise.


    But I didn¡¯t expect the biggest fallout to be with Skye.


    Shame isn¡¯t an emotion I¡¯m used to any more. It had been, when the wound with Elena and Ben had been fresh. But in the years since, it¡¯s faded, until the scar barely aches. But after the fight with Skye, it¡¯s all I feel.


    She came to me with legitimate concerns. The picture didn¡¯t look good, and she asked me to fill it in for her. I had-and not in a gentle way. Her feelings had been clear on her face and I¡¯d trampled them with my own hurt and sordid past.


    I wince again, remembering the admission to her. Trust Ben and Elena to seed in screwing me over onest time. Nothing about the situation painted me in a good light to Skye, not to mention the ill-timed visit of one of my underlings to the bookstore.


    That¡¯s the first thing I get to the bottom of, the day after the fight. Bryan stands straight in my office when I question him. ¡°Did you send someone to Between the Pages yesterday? The bookstore?¡±


    His eyes light up. ¡°Yes, yes I did.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It was a ssic shakedown. They have less than a week left of the deal you agreed to, and we need to remind them of the oue.¡± He shrugs. ¡°Fairly standard.¡±


    My hand grows white-knuckled around the arm of my chair. ¡°You didn¡¯t inform me?¡±


    ¡°No. I considered mentioning it, but then we had the article to deal with.¡± Bryan frowns. ¡°Was it the wrong call?¡±


    Yes. A thousand times yes.


    But there is no way I can make him understand that without giving away far too much information. ¡°We will honor the deal,¡± I tell him. ¡°If the store is profitable, they stay.¡±


    Bryan doesn¡¯tment, but the refusal is clear in his eyes. None of my team understand why I¡¯d epted Skye and Karli¡¯s challenge in the first ce, and I can¡¯t me them for that. It had been nonsensical.


    I don¡¯t look forward to exining in front of a board of investors and partners why the next Porter Hotel will have a bookstore incorporated in the ground floor.


    The rest of the day is miserable. Skye doesn¡¯t text me, and I don¡¯t text her. What is there to say?


    I snap at my assistant. I have to re-read emails to understand them. My mind seems stuck on her face from the night before¡­ what she¡¯d used me of, well, it doesn¡¯t sit right with me. By the time I make it home in the evening, I¡¯m in such a bad mood that I consider hitting the pool and swimming a few lengths. Having already done my workout that morning, the thought of pushing my muscles further isn¡¯t tempting, but I¡¯m far too riled up to remain still for long.


    The urge to make things right with Skye grows into an itch that¡¯s increasingly hard to ignore. She hadn¡¯t handled her questioning well, but then again, I hadn¡¯t handled her questions well either.


    I¡¯m halfway to the hallway before I¡¯ve even made the decision. Finding the car keys, pulling on a pair of shoes, tugging on my leather jacket. It¡¯s a conversation we should have in person.


    But my phone rings as I reach for the elevator button. For a brief moment, indecision is all I feel. It¡¯s likely Bryan or Tyra. Some fire to put out or ate-night contract to sign. With a sigh, I pull it out of my pocket, ready to hit decline.


    The name on the caller ID stops me. ¡°Skye?¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she says on the other line. ¡°It¡¯s me. Hi.¡±


    ¡°Hey. How¡¯ve you been?¡±


    She clears her throat. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡±


    There¡¯s a pause, her breathing soft through the phone. ¡°Actually, no. I haven¡¯t been good at all. I¡­ Cole, I¡¯m sorry for jumping to conclusions about the article, and inferring things about our agreement.¡±


    ¡°I should have been able to talk about it better,¡± I say quietly. ¡°You were concerned. I get that.¡± I put a hand against the wall to brace myself. ¡°And I promise you, I wasn¡¯t aware of thepany man who visited your store. Had I been, I would have stopped it. It was unnecessary.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°It was.¡±


    ¡°Was he rude?¡±


    ¡°Terribly. He called me sweetheart.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, though,¡± she says, a tone of both smugness and bashfulness in her voice. ¡°I wasn¡¯t very civil back.¡±


    Despite myself, I want tough. ¡°I¡¯m sure you weren¡¯t.¡±


    There¡¯s silence again, but this time it¡¯s warm. Skye is the one who breaks it. ¡°You don¡¯t feel likeing over?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°You know exactly what I mean, Porter.¡±


    I step into the elevator, car keys in hand. ¡°I was already on my way.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±


    Six days. The number hits me as I drive over. Six days until this ends, until the decision has to be made, until it alles to a head. It fills me with nothing but dread.


    The front door is unlocked when I arrive. ¡°Come in!¡± she calls out from her perch on the couch. She¡¯s in some sort of pajama set-striped shorts and a camisole-looking innocent and domestic. It stirs something in me, seeing her like that, her hair loose down her back. It¡¯s a sight I could get used to.


    ¡°Do you want some tea?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 56

    ¡°No thanks,¡± I say, hanging up my jacket. ¡°I¡¯m good.¡±


    There¡¯s a chagrined look on her face as she sets her cup back down on the coffee table. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, again.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to apologize.¡±


    ¡°No, I do. I¡­ I believed the worst of you.¡±


    ¡°I would have too, in your shoes,¡± I say quietly. Most people in the city probably do now.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± she asks. ¡°The article?¡±


    ¡°Hell, no. I don¡¯t even want to think about it.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine you¡¯ve done quite enough of that,¡± she says with a smile. ¡°Make yourselffortable.¡±


    I do, sinking down into her couch and stretching out my legs. For the first time all day, I feel like I can take a deep breath and have it fill my lungs. It feels good.


    Skye gets up and heads to one of the flowerpots in the corner. I watch as she snaps off a browning leaf. ¡°Sorry,¡± she says softly, ¡°but I kill all my nts. I¡¯m determined this one will make it.¡±


    ¡°I have faith in you.¡±


    She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and straightens a pile of books on the coffee table. It¡¯s such a homely thing to do, and in her pajamas, it¡¯s¡­ sweet. This is a proper home. A ce to rx and unwind.


    I toy with the tassels of a cushion. ¡°That¡¯s why my ce is like a museum, you know.¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°I bought it just a few weeks after I found out about Elena and Ben. I¡¯d been staying in one of my hotels after I found out, having just walked out of our apartment. I never went back there,¡± I say. ¡°Couldn¡¯t, actually. Just the idea of it made me sick.¡±


    Skye sinks down onto the sectional in front of me, crossing her legs. ¡°It¡¯s awful, what they did.¡± Her voice hardens. ¡°And to think she gets to y the supportive wife in that article. Bah!¡±


    The outrage in her voice makes me smile. ¡°I like your anger more than your pity.¡±


    ¡°No pity,¡± she agrees. ¡°You did the right thing in cutting them off. But why would they write that article?¡±


    I scoff. ¡°I¡¯m guessing the money ran out. Ben is terrible with finances and Elena has expensive tastes.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re the ones in the wrong, and somehow your name is the one dragged through the mud. Can¡¯t you set the record straight somehow?¡±


    I grab one of the books on her coffee table, flicking through it aimlessly. ¡°That would mean admitting to the world what really happened.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Which wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± I say, ¡°but I still have my pride.¡±


    Skye shakes her head, but there¡¯s a fondness in her eyes that I haven¡¯t seen before. ¡°Men,¡± she muses.


    I snap the book closed. ¡°You love us.¡±


    ¡°Much to our own detriment sometimes, yes.¡±


    ¡°Why does the bookstore mean so much to you?¡±


    Skye¡¯s eyebrows shoot high, but her face remains open, fondness still clear in her eyes. I want to live up to it. ¡°That¡¯s a non-sequitur,¡± she says.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve asked me personal questions. My turn now.¡±


    She tucks her legs up beneath her, her gaze on the bookshelf in the corner. Maybe I¡¯ve pushed my luck with this one. It¡¯s not a topic that the name ¡°Cole Porter¡± is favorably attached to.


    But then she starts to speak.


    ¡°I spent a lot of time there growing up. My mom is¡­ well, entric.¡±


    ¡°You called her bohemian once.¡±


    Skye looks over. ¡°You remembered that?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Well, she certainly is. A new project every week, a new obsession. She¡¯s not a bad mother, but she¡¯s an absentminded one. She gets lost in stories and ideas easily. And she¡¯s very stubborn about it.¡±


    I resist the urge to smile, thinking that Skye shares some of those traits, and admirably so. Stubbornness. Obsession. A love of storytelling.


    ¡°So you spent time in the bookstore?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I loved to read and write. And walking home after school, I¡¯d stop at Between the Pages. It felt like the most wonderful ce. Eleanor ran it, back then. She started making me tea, even though I didn¡¯t like it yet.¡± A smile ys at the corners of her mouth, the look in her eyes a million miles away. ¡°She encouraged me to write. To explore. She put new books in my hands every week and would ask me questions about them. ¡®And why did Heathcliff act like that?¡¯ she¡¯d challenge. ¡®What are the author¡¯s intentions?¡¯ When I chose to major in English Literature, my mother and sister didn¡¯t understand it. Eleanor did.¡±


    ¡°She was Karli¡¯s grandmother?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I started working there part-time, when I was old enough. It¡¯s more like home to me than my childhood house ever was.¡± She looks down at her palms, as if seeking answers there. ¡°It¡¯s the ce I love the most in the world.¡±


    And I was trying to tear it down.


    She doesn¡¯t say the words, but the knowledge hangs in the air in between us, tangible and ufortable. An unwee intruder. For the first time, I want to undo the whole thing. The bargain. The business project. I just want her.


    ¡°Skye, I-¡±


    Her phone interrupts me and the cheery theme song fills her apartment. She tracks it down to one of her kitchen counters, the apartment small enough that I can hear the entire conversation.


    I settle down on the couch to listen,pletely without shame, a hand under my head.


    ¡°Hey, I,¡± Skye says. It¡¯s a name I remember-the older sister, Timmy¡¯s mother. This should be interesting.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± A cleared throat. ¡°No, I¡¯m home alone.¡±


    I grin at that.


    ¡°I, I don¡¯t feel like talking about him any more. It¡¯s all you ask me about!¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 57

    I grin even wider.


    ¡°Timmy might have been exaggerating on that point a bit. Anyway, what¡¯s up?¡±


    Then she gives a suppressed sigh-I can hear it all the way from here. ¡°Why can¡¯t you use your car? Doesn¡¯t Jason have one?¡±


    Jason doesn¡¯t, apparently, and this is exined vigorously enough that even I hear the mumbled words on the other end of the line.


    ¡°Fine, fine. No, okay. I need it this weekend, though.¡± A pause. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fair.¡± A much longer pause. ¡°All right. Bye.¡±


    I¡¯m grinning at Skye when shees around the corner. She groans, putting a hand to her forehead. ¡°You heard everything, right?¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°She¡¯s been nagging me about you since the baseball game. Timmy has beenying on the praise thick, let me tell you.¡±


    ¡°As well he should have.¡±


    She tosses a throw pillow my way and I catch it easily. ¡°It¡¯s getting harder to dodge the questions,¡± she says.


    ¡°What have you told her?¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯re someone I¡¯m seeing casually. She¡¯s not buying it.¡±


    I reach out and grab Skye around the waist, pulling her down to the couch. Shends on myp. ¡°Because I¡¯m your first casual hookup.¡±


    ¡°Yes. How long are you going to lord that over me?¡±


    ¡°Just a few more times.¡± I smooth my hand over her thigh, the skin soft to the touch. ¡°She asked to borrow your car.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Skye says irritably. ¡°Last time she had it for almost a week.¡±


    I pull her back against me, our bodies flush. She¡¯s warm in my arms. ¡°Why don¡¯t you stand up to her like you do to me?¡±


    Skye rxes against me. ¡°Like I do to you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You have no problem telling me when I¡¯m being an asshole. The first month you told me regrly that you hated me.¡±


    ¡°I still hate you,¡± she murmurs, fingers trailing up my arm.


    I grin. ¡°See? No problem at all. Stand up for yourself with her, too.¡±


    Skye is quiet for a beat, but when she speaks, her words are not about her sister. ¡°I really was awful to you, wasn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Well-deservedly so.¡±


    She rolls her hips, grinding against me, and my body reacts right on cue. It¡¯s impossible to hold her and not want her. ¡°But you enjoyed it.¡±


    ¡°Very much.¡± I bite her ear, moving down lower, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her neck. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s more fun, arguing with you or sleeping with you.¡±


    Skye chuckles and rests her head against my shoulder. She grabs my hand and slides it down her front, right to the waistband of her shorts. It¡¯s all the cue I need.


    ¡°Sometimes we do both at the same time,¡± she says, her voice breathless.


    I slide my hand under the stic. ¡°Mhm,¡± I say. She¡¯s like silky velvet against my fingers, soft and smooth and responsive.


    ¡°Remember what we did in your bathtub?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I use an arm around her waist to secure her to me, using my thigh to spread her legs further apart. Skye shudders as I slip a finger inside.


    ¡°Do you think we could manage it in a shower?¡±


    I smile at her suggestion, at the way she¡¯s spread, at the self-confidence. Standing, I grip her around the waist, hoisting her up against me.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a tight fit,¡± I say, ¡°but then again, so are you.¡±


    Skye doesn¡¯t blush. She kisses me instead, warm and enthusiastic and willing, drowning out the number pounding in the back of my mind. Six days left.


    What happens then?


    I¡¯m in the storage room when my carefully constructed double-lifees crashing down around me. It¡¯s done in a heartbeat. I should have been able to predict it-and the fact that I haven¡¯t makes me question not just my morals, but my intellect too.


    I overhear the whole thing.


    ¡°Want to see something cool?¡± Timmy asks Karli, having arrived earlier than usual from school.


    She indulges him with a smile in her voice. ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    ¡°This is one of my signed baseballs. I brought it along to school today to show my friends.¡±


    ¡°Wow! Where did you get that?¡± she asks.


    I¡¯m out of the storage room and halfway through the room, but I¡¯m not fast enough. There¡¯s no stopping what¡¯s said next.


    ¡°I went to a baseball gamest week.¡± The pride in Timmy¡¯s voice kills me. ¡°Skye and Cole took me. We had the best seats.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Skye¡¯s boyfriend. He gave me tips for theing tryouts, too.¡±


    Karli turns to me, where I stand breathless and guilty in the doorway. ¡°Skye?¡±


    ¡°Which Cole is this?¡±


    I can¡¯t talk. I can¡¯t even breathe, wondering if the guilt is like a shining beacon from my eyes.


    It must be, because hers widen with horror. ¡°Skye!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should have told you.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    Timmy¡¯s eyes are moving from one of us to the other, and I shake my head at Karli. She catches on immediately. ¡°Sorry,¡± she tells Timmy. ¡°That¡¯s lovely, and I¡¯m d you got to go to the game. Skye and I just need a moment, okay?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 58

    He nods sulkily and gives me a reproachful look through his sses. He hates being left out of the conversation, but he dutifully turns back to his homework.


    Karli follows me out to the register. ¡°How could you, Skye?¡± she asks in a low voice. ¡°You hated him more than I did!¡±


    ¡°I know. I still do. I¡­ remember the one-night stand I had?¡±


    ¡°The unreal hotel guy?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was him. I didn¡¯t know it then, of course. And then he walked in here and I was so angry¡­ and then it somehow turned into more.¡± I run a hand through my hair. ¡°I barely understand it myself, Karli.¡±


    Her mouth is a tight line. ¡°So that¡¯s why he agreed to the two-month deal. I thought he was just a bull and you¡¯d waved a red g.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, that too. He¡¯spetitive.¡±


    ¡°How could you not have told me something like this? Our business rtionship with Porter Development concerns me too. It¡¯s my livelihood, Skye!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry. I wanted to, several times, but I was afraid of what you¡¯d say, or worse, what you¡¯d think of me.¡±


    Her eyes soften, but it¡¯s just a tad. ¡°Rtionships areplicated. Emotions areplicated. You should have given me a chance to understand.¡±


    ¡°I should¡¯ve.¡± I lean against the counter, my heart pounding like I¡¯ve been running sprints. ¡°We¡¯ve kept it very casual. He doesn¡¯t have anything to leverage against us, Karli.¡±


    She puts a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Skye, for Christ¡¯s sake, of course he doesn¡¯t. But what about you? What¡¯s going to happen when this all ends? I don¡¯t want you getting hurt!¡±


    I take a deep breath. ¡°I don¡¯t think I will. At least, not if we win.¡±


    It¡¯s a half-hearted joke, and she smiles, but it¡¯s probably for my sake. ¡°I hope so, and I hope he¡¯s been treating you right through all this. He was my enemy before, but then it was just business. If he hurts you, Skye¡­ well, then it¡¯s personal.¡±


    She looks so determined, and so fierce all of a sudden, that I get a lump in my throat. ¡°Thank you, Karli.¡±


    She pulls me into a hug, far warmer than I deserve. ¡°I¡¯m still angry at you for not telling me,¡± she says. ¡°But I¡¯m still in your corner, as always. Tomorrow, when Timmy¡¯s not here, I want you to tell me everything.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you. I promise.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She holds me at arm¡¯s-length distance, a faint smile on her lips. ¡°You¡¯re living your own grand story at the moment, it seems.¡±


    A surprisedugh escapes me. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s awfully exciting. Perhaps too much. I¡¯m barely holding it together.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she says, ¡°just make sure you write about it when it¡¯s all over, okay? Remember what Eleanor used to say. It¡¯s your mistakes that give you the best stories.¡±


    Despite Karli¡¯s calm eptance, I feel guilty for the rest of the day and unable to fall asleep at night. Seeing Cole and I through someone else¡¯s eyes-someone who isn¡¯t ten years old and my nephew-made the whole thing feel less somehow. Almost cheap. A daring adventure in the dark can look very different when it¡¯s brought out into the harsh light of day.


    I shake my head at myself. Focus on Between the Pages. That¡¯s the whole point of this thing, anyway. To see this ce torn down would tear me apart, and besides, Cole and I have no future. We¡¯d never discussed it, but it was clear in the way both of us spoke. With five days until the deadline for delivering our financial reports to Porter Development, our time¡¯s numbered and the clock is ticking.


    And our final meeting with Chloe is here. It¡¯s thest time we¡¯ll be able to go over the financials before the deadline, thest time we¡¯ll be able to course-correct.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be here at five,¡± Karli says for the third time, rearranging the loyalty card disy on the register. ¡°She said she¡¯d bring her calctions with her.¡±


    ¡°Awesome,¡± I say, sorting through the register.


    She taps her fingers against the counter. ¡°How can you be so calm?¡±


    ¡°Because I know we¡¯ve managed to be profitable.¡±


    ¡°You know it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I give her my most confident smile. ¡°You and I have both seen the numbers go up. How many more customers have we had in thest week than usual?¡±


    ¡°Well, a lot. Your flyers helped, and the book signing event. And the Instagram page. Oh Skye, we should have started with these changes ages ago!¡±


    The thought had struck me, too. ¡°Yes. But it¡¯s never toote to learn,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯ll see that we¡¯ve turned it around.¡±


    Karli¡¯s smile is grateful, even if it¡¯s tinged with the same fear I¡¯m concealing. ¡°You¡¯re right. We just have to breathe in and breathe out,¡± she says. ¡°There¡¯s nothing more we can do today.¡±


    ¡°Easy as that.¡± I look around the bookstore, at the artful crown molding around the built-in bookcases, at the beautiful wooden beams. Eleanor had added detail after detail over the decades, changing a newer building into something that looked centuries old.ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    There are markings with my height in the storage room. Eleanor had insisted on it, once I became a regr, when she was the one who helped me with my English homework.


    I keep my smile in ce for Karli, for the customers, but inside I¡¯m just as afraid. For two months, this moment has been my guiding star, and the possibility of failure feels like an ice-cold hand around my heart.


    When Chloe finally sweeps into the bookstore, it¡¯s with a professional smile and another expensive bag on her arm. Karli gives me a single nod, and I nod back. Here we go.


    We take a seat around the table in the reading room. Chloe¡¯s manner is measured, professional, as she opens up herptop. Nothing in her behavior hints at either sess or failure. A good sign, I tell myself.


    ¡°First things first, here is your monthly ounting report.¡± She pushes a sheet with colorful graphics our way. ¡°Your sales are up, which is very impressive, especially in this financial climate.¡±


    I nod, looking over the numbers. Nausea sweeps through me at the thought, but I ask it regardless. ¡°So? Has it been enough?¡±


    Chloe sighs in defeat, and somewhere inside of me, something cracks. It might be my heart. ¡°I¡¯ve tried,¡± she says. ¡°I really have. But no, it hasn¡¯t been. It¡¯s not enough to push you into the green as a business.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding.¡±


    Chloe gives me a sad smile. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Skye. Truly. I¡¯ve run the numbers every which way, but there¡¯s no way I can spin it so you look profitable.¡±


    Karli opens and closes her mouth, no sound emerging.


    ¡°But we¡¯ve had more customers,¡± I say faintly. ¡°We¡¯ve both seen therge uptick. We¡¯ve sold for more than previous months, you just said so.¡±


    ¡°You have, yes. But not enough. I¡¯m sorry, but there¡¯s therge inventory and the high fixed costs. You¡¯re just barely breaking even. This ce hasn¡¯t been truly profitable for months, and it¡¯s a hard thing to turn around in such a short period of time.¡±


    ¡°How? We¡¯ve done everything!¡±


    Chloe turns herptop around for us to see. And there, clear as day, are the numbers in using red. Two months¡¯ worth ofbined ounts.


    ¡°On a deal like this, they¡¯re going to check my bookkeeping, so I can¡¯t fudge either.¡±


    Karli clears her throat. ¡°We¡¯d never ask you to.¡±


    I would. Staring down at the wooden table, my gaze snags on a small act of vandalism. Someone had carved the word hope into the old wood. Someone who hadn¡¯t yet learned how pointless that emotion was.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 59

    ¡°When do we have to send the numbers to Porter?¡± I ask.


    ¡°In four days¡¯ time,¡± Karli says. ¡°But surely that¡¯s too little time to¡­?¡±


    ¡°It is. Even if you triple your daily sales, it won¡¯t be enough.¡± Chloe pauses, and it¡¯s the look on her face that kills me, that tells me this is real. ¡°I¡¯m more sorry than you realize. I know this wasn¡¯t what you hoped for, when you hired me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Karli says immediately. ¡°Thank you for doing this for us, and for agreeing to the time pressure and deadline.¡±


    She¡¯s taking this better than I am. I just stare at Chloe¡¯s screen-at the big red deficit-and feel like I¡¯m falling, like this is a nightmare, one I¡¯ve been dreading, and now that I¡¯m here I can¡¯t wake up.


    I¡¯m d Eleanor can¡¯t see us now.


    Chloe gives me a hug before she leaves. My movements are on autopilot, and maybe she sees that, because she invites me over for dinner.


    ¡°For old time¡¯s sake,¡± she says kindly. ¡°Whenever you feel up for it, let me know.¡±


    It¡¯s nice, and I nod, but my insides are tearing themselves apart. How can this be? I watch in a daze as the front door shuts behind Chloe, the jingle of the bell obscene.


    Karli turns to me. ¡°I can¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°We did everything-¡±


    ¡°You did so much!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so sorry!¡±


    She wraps her arms around me, and me around her, and for a long time there are no words.


    ¡°We tried everything,¡± Karli finally murmurs. ¡°Thank you, Skye. Thank you so much for believing in this. For negotiating those two extra months for us to try.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°For nothing. I got our hopes up-¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. Between the Pages has touched so many lives in the past two months. It¡¯s reached more people, and that¡¯s because of you.¡±


    ¡°Us both.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I can¡¯t take credit for half of your inventions.¡± Karli leans back, her eyes glittering. ¡°We knew this day woulde. We¡¯d epted it, months ago. We¡¯ll learn to ept it again.¡±


    I can¡¯t ept it. Not yet, and maybe not ever. ¡°How are you taking this so calmly?¡±


    ¡°Because this ce had a five-decade run,¡± she says, her voice turning fierce. ¡°Eleanor¡¯s dream lives on in me, and it lives on in you, Skye. That¡¯s what matters.¡±


    Eleanor. We failed her.


    When she died, she¡¯d given me a set of leather-bound old editions and a beautiful note. Follow your dreams, Skye, and never doubt that you¡¯re a born writer.


    I still doubted.


    I still needed this ce.


    Pulling out of Karli¡¯s embrace, I reach for my phone with a trembling hand. ¡°Maybe I can talk to Cole. Convince them to keep this ce anyway. We have gained more customers, after all. That¡¯s good?¡±


    The smile Karli gives me is kind, but it¡¯s not hopeful. ¡°Honey, he¡¯s a businessman. I don¡¯t like him, even if you¡¯ve told me the article didn¡¯t paint a fair picture, but he¡¯s still out to make money. And we¡¯re not a good bet.¡±


    ¡°Yes we are.¡± I swipe left to open my phone and click open my texts.


    Skye Hond: Can Ie over after you¡¯re done with work?


    His response is immediate.


    Cole Porter: Yes. I¡¯ll finish up early for you.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be the end,¡± I tell Karli, my hand a fist at my side. ¡°It just can¡¯t. I won¡¯t let it.¡±


    I knot my hands into fists to keep them from shaking and watch the elevator screen¡¯s meticulous count of all the floors we barrel past. Twelve. Fifteen. Eighteen. Twenty. The Amena building is one of the tallest in Seattle. In a different world, I¡¯d make a joke to Cole about it. You couldn¡¯t settle for just a mid-rise, could you? Maybe I¡¯d quip that he waspensating for something, and he¡¯d make a crude joke back.


    Tonight is not that night.


    The elevator bell dings as it slides to a smooth stop at the top floor, opening straight into Cole¡¯s home, if you could call his modernist fortress that.


    I walk down the hallway without stopping to take off my jacket. My mind feels nk and foggy-too much has hit me in too short a time. The bookstore is closing. Cole¡¯s tearing it down. Karli and I failed.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°Skye? Thank God you¡¯re here.¡± Cole emerges out of his home office, shrugging out of his suit jacket. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to bury myself in you.¡±


    My handbag slides off my shoulder andnds with the sound of metal on hardwood.


    His eyes find mine. ¡°Skye? Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°We met with our ountant today. We¡¯re not profitable.¡±


    For a moment he¡¯spletely still, eyes locked on mine. And then he¡¯s crossing the space to me in quick strides. He opens his arms but I can¡¯t. Not right now, and not with him.


    I take a step back and he stops. ¡°We failed,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± He slides a hand through his hair. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Skye. Truly.¡±


    ¡°We turned things around. There were more customers there. You saw it too, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    He gives a faint nod. ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°And we followed your advice. Practically everything is on sale, Cole. We¡¯re flying through the inventory, and our Instagram page is growing, we engaged the entire neighborhood, and we got a new ountant and¡­and¡­ I can¡¯t think of anything else we could have done. It¡¯s heading in the right direction. We could still be profitable, it just needs more time.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve worked so hard,¡± he says, and the expression on his face kills anyst shred of hope I¡¯d harbored. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to tell you. I¡¯m sorry. More sorry than I can tell you.¡±


    I swallow hard. He¡¯s sorry, because he¡¯s going to tear it down anyway. He¡¯s sorry.


    ¡°I know how much this meant to you, to prove yourself.¡±


    He says it like he expects me to walk into his arms-to have him console me-before he tears it down in two weeks¡¯ time.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 60

    Karli and I failed.


    Correction: I failed. I was the one who made the crazy bet with him, who pushed through thete nights and the doubts and the flu and created a whole new business n. I¡¯d forced everyone to believe the same thing I did, just because I wanted it so much. Because I was too stupid to see the writing on the wall.


    The bookstore is gone. It has an expiration date, and always had, from the very beginning. Eleanor¡¯s face swims in front of me, her kind eyes, her sharp voice. So what? she¡¯d said once, when I¡¯de to her upset about being called a bookish nerd in school. Poprity fades. Smarts don¡¯t. I¡¯m betting on you. Turns out she lost that bet.


    Cole takes another step toward me, but I back away again. There¡¯s too much emotion running through me at the moment, more than I can handle. It burns.


    ¡°Skye¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to tear it down,¡± I murmur. ¡°It¡¯ll be gone.¡±


    All of thete nights, his help, his encouragement, and in the end, it doesn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°What do you want me to say, Skye? We had an agreement.¡±


    ¡°You helped me,¡± I say, the blood beginning to pound in my temples. ¡°You helped me with this.¡±


    He nods, but it¡¯s sad, and that¡¯s when it hits me so clearly that he did it to spend time with me, to sleep with me, and not for the business. Of course not. I already knew that, didn¡¯t I? So why does it hurt to have it confirmed? To have the illusion shatter?


    I put a hand to my chest, to where my heart feels like it¡¯s breaking. ¡°You¡¯re going to tear it down.¡±


    ¡°Skye, I don¡¯t know what to do.¡± He takes yet another step toward me, but I hold up a hand this time. I can see that it hurts him-me not letting him near. ¡°Are you asking me to stop the demolition? That wouldn¡¯t be a sound business decision. But¡­ just tell me what you want.¡±


    Judging from the pained look on his face, he means it, too. I could ask him not to do it. I could stand here and beg him to reconsider. He wouldn¡¯t do it for the bookstore¡¯s own sake. But he might do it for me.


    What are we, exactly? Enemies, but not just that. Friends, but not just that, either. Lovers¡­ I can¡¯t begin to think that way. And if I spent whatever capital I had with him begging¡­ I¡¯d never be able to show up to Between the Pages without remembering what I¡¯d had to do to get it.


    Smarts trumps being popr, Eleanor had said. I couldn¡¯t be someone who called in favors to save a business, not like this. Not the way I¡¯d earned them with him.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I say, backing toward the hallway. Humiliation and failure makes my cheeks burn. ¡°You¡¯re right. I can¡¯t ask you that. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Skye-wait.¡±


    I shake my head, feeling myself unraveling and unable to stop. ¡°I can¡¯t, not with any of it. This¡­ it¡¯s too much.¡±


    Cole puts a hand next to me in the hallway, caging me in, his jaw clenched tight. ¡°Wait. Skye, please¡­ let me help you somehow. Let me be with you tonight.¡±


    ¡°Why? What are we?¡± I fumble with the sp of my purse. ¡°Nothing. We¡¯re casual.¡±


    He frowns. ¡°I know what we agreed to. I¡¯m still not sure if I can offer you more, but-¡±


    ¡°But what?¡± Augh escapes me, though the only funny thing here is my own poor decisions. ¡°I went into this against my better judgement. Even knowing you¡¯d tear down the business, I did it anyway. I thought it would be an adventure. God, I can¡¯t believe I¡¯ve been so stupid!¡±


    He stiffens as if I¡¯ve struck him, his hand sliding off the wall. ¡°There is no getting around this, then?¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯re tearing down my bookstore?¡±


    He gives a harsh nod, lips a t line.


    ¡°No.¡± I press the button for the elevator, the doors gayly chiming as they slide open. ¡°No, there isn¡¯t. I can¡¯t¡­ Cole, I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re over.¡±


    I don¡¯t trust my voice to speak, the taste of tears on my tongue. He¡¯s said the words, and once they¡¯re out, I can¡¯t see a way around them. We were never really anything, really.


    I nod.ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    Cole¡¯s eyes shutter, and he crosses his arms over his chest, strong and sure and distant. ¡°Well then,¡± he says. ¡°Thanks for a few enjoyable weeks.¡±


    I mash my fingers against the button and the elevator doors close in the nick of time as my tears break free, running hotly down my cheeks.


    Sadness is a funny thing. Ites in bursts, all at once, and then disappears again, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity. Pushed away by good times or ignored when inconvenient. I¡¯d known that Between the Pages might close for months. I had grieved Eleanor when she passed three years ago. And I¡¯d never really expected the game with Cole tost.


    And still.


    All three things hit me at once, so hard that I have to reach out a hand to steady myself against the elevator wall. This morning had started with a purpose, a job, a potential future. A man who made me feel like life itself pounded in my veins, free and strong and alive.


    It ended with all of those things gone. And worst of all was the feeling that all of it was somehow, someway, my fault. If I¡¯d worked harder. If I¡¯d known the right things to say. If I¡¯d made different decisions.


    We¡¯d been so close, and instead, Between the Pages is to be dust and rubble, an impersonal ss structure rising from its wake. Maybe it¡¯ll have a hotel bar on the top floor for billionaire owners and unsuspecting young women to meet, I think bitterly, but the thought just brings on a fresh round of tears.


    Funny how sess works. I¡¯ve been asked about it often in thest few years-sometimes more than once a day. In interviews. In speeches. Atworking events. Teach me something about sess, they¡¯ll say, often with a glint in their eyes. What¡¯s the secret?


    Or, my personal favorite, to what do you owe your sess? As if debts were involved-as if I had sacrificed to the gods.


    Funnier still how public sess rarely trantes to private sess. I could have an apartment my mother called ostentatious, a developmentpany that was soon the biggest on the Western seaboard. Regr international travel and a charity organization in the works. But at the end of the day, the one person who gave me true happiness had walked out.


    ¡°So, tell me,¡± the reporter in front of me asks, a practiced smile on his face, ¡°what¡¯s the secret to your sess?¡±


    I don¡¯t feel particrly sessful at the moment. The interview I¡¯m giving is a necessity, ording to my publicity team, to counteract Ben and Elena¡¯s smear campaign. All because I worked too much and missed what was right beneath my nose-my best friend and the woman I thought I loved. Work getting in the way of a rtionship. It seems like a recurring problem in my personal life.


    The reporter clears his throat. I¡¯m taking too long to answer, clearly, my mind stuck in the past-on what happened three years ago. On what happened only one week ago in my hallway.


    I lean back and cross my leg over my knee. ¡°Well, if the answer is a secret, it¡¯s an open one. It¡¯s hard work and good luck. Being in the right ce at the right time. Knocking on doors until one eventually opens.¡± I tap my hand against my knee, contemting a more honest answer. Skye¡¯s joking admonitions about privilege ring in my head. ¡°And for me, I certainly had help in the beginning. My family was supportive. My friends were supportive. I graduated university without debt. I¡¯m well aware that other entrepreneurs face difficulties I didn¡¯t have.¡±


    The reporter raises an eyebrow, jotting this down. It¡¯s an answer that will be dissected. Exined. Analyzed.


    ¡°And a helpful business partner?¡± he asks. Behind him, Bryan¡¯s face freezes in fury; Tyra gives me a silent shake of the head. The reporter is going off-script. We could ask for this to be struck from the record.


    I meet his gaze head-on, this poor man, sent to interview someone who got three hours of sleepst night and who couldn¡¯t care less about this interview.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say truthfully, ¡°he was helpful until he wasn¡¯t. We wanted to pursue different directions.¡±


    The reporter nods eagerly, encouraged by my answer. ¡°Would you say that the split was amicable, then?¡±


    I think back to thest time I saw Ben Simmons. Fuck you was one of the final things I¡¯d said, if I remember correctly. He¡¯d been angry too. Asshole! You always think you know better!


    ¡°Amicably enough.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 61

    He looks through his notes, stalling for time. My tone hadn¡¯t invited follow-up questions, and he¡¯d been briefed beforehand that questions about the article were off-limits.


    But what he finally asks me turns out to be far worse.


    ¡°Porter Development will soon begin construction of a new hotel and apartmentplex in East Seattle,¡± he says, oblivious to the way my hand grows into a white-knuckled fist. ¡°A number of old buildings will be demolished to make way for this. What¡¯s your take on the naysayers and protests that have risen up in response?¡±


    There¡¯s only one image in my mind.


    It¡¯s Skye, her beautiful eyes glittering with unshed tears. The things I¡¯d said-the way she¡¯d walked out-makes my body tighten with shame.ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°I have nothing to say regarding that development.¡±


    The reporter¡¯s gaze travel from my eyes to my fists. ¡°Nothing at all? Not even an official statement?¡±


    ¡°No. No mention of the question in the article, either. Is this interview done?¡±


    He looks down at his notepad. ¡°Well, if you¡¯d like-but I have more things to touch on.¡±


    ¡°Email any remaining questions to us. Thank you for your time.¡± I shake the bewildered man¡¯s hand before striding out of the conference room.


    Bryan follows me. ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t one of the pre-approved topics.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t,¡± he agrees. ¡°Neither was the mention of Ben Simmons. You handled that well.¡±


    I force my voice to soften, even if the only thing I want to do is yell at him, at the reporter. At myself. ¡°Not particrly. Let¡¯s start the development meeting early.¡±


    He nods, typing away on his phone to send the appropriate notifications. ¡°The bookstore included in the East Seattle project just sent in their numbers, by the way. Between the Pages.¡±


    Something cold settles around my heart. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not profitable. I¡¯ll double-check the numbers with our ounting team, but if that¡¯s the conclusion they¡¯vee to themselves, I have no doubt it¡¯s correct.¡± There¡¯s undisguised glee in his voice. ¡°Well done, sir. This¡¯ll make the head architects happy.¡±


    I want to punch him.


    I want to punch myself.


    Ten minutester I¡¯m seated at the head of yet another conference table, myptop in front of me. ¡°Give me thetest updates,¡± I say, though in truth, I want to walk away from this whole project. The only thing I see is Skye with pain in her eyes.


    Sam, my head project manager, nods. ¡°Given the newest information, demolition will start next Tuesday. We¡¯ll start by razing this entire area. It¡¯ll take a few days longer than usual on our projects, since we want to preserve as much of the existing pipes and sewage system as possible.¡±


    ¡°Clever,¡± says Gabrielle, the head architect. The two make a killer team. They designed the Legacy for me. ¡°Although I have to say, I was enjoying testing new designs to incorporate that cute little bookstore. Oh well, now we won¡¯t have to.¡±


    Sam snorts. ¡°Saves us a building nightmare.¡±


    Everyone around the table nods, and I find myself nodding along. It¡¯s a sound business decision. I¡¯ve torn down things before. Before I¡¯d met Skye, I wouldn¡¯t even have thought twice about this. And she¡¯s out of my life now. It shouldn¡¯t matter.


    The meeting ends with a promise to reconvene next week. ¡°I want to be there when the demolition begins,¡± I say, shaking Sam¡¯s hand.


    He shoots me a wide grin. ¡°You can be the one to press the button, if you¡¯d like.¡±


    Something roils in my stomach. ¡°Thanks, but I think I¡¯ll leave that to the experts.¡±


    The rest of the day is spent on emails and meetings and phone calls. An unwee text from my baby sister as well, which I have no idea how to respond to.


    ir Porter: How are things with Skye? You know I can¡¯t meet her and then hear NOTHING more about her,e on. Give me thetest updates or I¡¯ll badger you to death this weekend. That¡¯s a threat, and I expect your speedypliance.


    I know she would. She¡¯d badger and ask questions until I¡¯d cave, which I always did with her.


    Cole Porter: I don¡¯t negotiate with terrorists.


    It won¡¯t hold ir off for long, though. I know that much about my little sister. At the same time, couldn¡¯t people just stop asking me about Skye? Reporters, family members¡­ I don¡¯t have any fucking answers, not for them, and not for myself.


    The final strawes in the car that evening, when Charles asks me too.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t stopped at 14 Fairfield Point for a while, sir.¡± A delicate pause. ¡°Or at the bookstore.¡±


    I grip the cushioned armrest and stare out of the window. ¡°No. And we won¡¯t again.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± he says, his tone heavy with implications. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s with censure or with approval, but regardless, it¡¯s thest thing I need. My mood ckens further. Nick will be in for a treat when I arrive, I think, and knowing him, he¡¯ll push me on it too.


    He does, of course. His arm is draped around the back of the plush booth, a ss of whiskey in front of him. ¡°You¡¯rete.¡±


    ¡°Traffic.¡±


    He nces around the bar, at the other guests, the dark interiors. ¡°We haven¡¯t been to Legacy for ages.¡±


    ¡°I felt like it tonight,¡± I say, wondering if I¡¯m pressing my luck. I¡¯d wanted to show myself that I could sit in this bar and not think of her.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not objecting. It¡¯s one of your better developments.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for that ringing endorsement.¡±


    He snorts, a gleam in his eyes. ¡°What¡¯s up your ass tonight, then?¡±


    ¡°What isn¡¯t,¡± I sigh, thanking the waiter when he brings my drink over.


    Nick nods to the bar. A few young men in suits are lounging against it, their hair slicked back, toasting with gin and tonics. ¡°Look at your clientele. Disgusting.¡±


    I chuckle despite myself. ¡°That was us once upon a time, you know.¡±


    Now we always choose a secluded area of the bar, where we¡¯re mostly undisturbed. How times have changed.


    Nick shakes his head. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me. At least I never looked like one of those rich punks.¡±


    No, I think, not with his short hair and the dangerous set of his features. Even now, he¡¯s scowling. ¡°How do you get your business partners to agree to work with you?¡±


    ¡°Where did thate from?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 62

    ¡°I realized I don¡¯t actually know.¡± I take a sip of my whiskey, reluctantly amused. ¡°I¡¯d imagine you scare them off.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m nice when I need to be,¡± he says, a wolfish grin spreading across his features. ¡°But that¡¯s unimportant. Tell me, how has your little problem progressed?¡±


    I groan. ¡°Don¡¯t call her my little problem.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what she is.¡± He takes a sip of his own whiskey. ¡°You never told me her name.¡±


    ¡°And now there¡¯s no need to. It¡¯s over. And I¡¯d greatly appreciate it if everyone just fucking stopped asking me about her.¡± I run an agitated hand through my hair.


    ¡°You hit the expiration date?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m tearing down her business. It¡¯s final.¡±


    He nods, as if he understands perfectly, as if this was a conundrum men find themselves in regrly. He takes a moment, but when he speaks, his voice is low. ¡°Are you sure the development is worth it?¡±


    I run my hand along the table. ¡°Are you really the one asking me this? Nichs Park?¡±


    ¡°Fuck. You¡¯re right. Ignore what I said, and go after the money.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡±


    He shakes his head at me, but it¡¯s thoughtful. ¡°But that¡¯s me, Cole. Not you. And this is the first time you¡¯ve been out of sorts over a woman in years.¡±


    ¡°God, don¡¯t remind me.¡±


    ¡°But I will, regardless.¡± He leans over the table. ¡°What are you doing to Ben and Elena about the article?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Fuck nothing. What are you going to do?¡±


    I take a sip of the whiskey and it burns down my throat. ¡°Mywyers are looking into a potential breach of the non-disclosure agreement and nder.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. The snake.¡± Nick shakes his head. ¡°I never liked him.¡±


    ¡°No, you never did.¡± They¡¯d been unable to be in the same room at certain points. Privately, I¡¯d always thought they were each other¡¯splete opposites. Nick, with a rough background and ambition and no bullshit. Ben, privilege and charm and not much else.


    I know by now which friend I¡¯d rather have; give me harsh truths over well-intentioned lies any day.


    ¡°That reminds me,¡± I say. ¡°What is your problem with ir, anyway? I mentioned your name the other day and she practically recoiled. What¡¯ve you done?¡±


    Nick¡¯s features harden. ¡°Nothing, man. Your sister and I are just different people. You know we¡¯ve never been close.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to get along. But you can at least be civil to each other,¡± I say.


    ¡°I am,¡± Nick mutters, and I don¡¯t miss the emphasis on the first word. Maybe I need to have the same conversation with her. But why? ir is lovable. Free-spoken, perhaps, but there¡¯s no one she meets who she can¡¯t charm. Except, it seems, the man in front of me.


    I shake my head and take another sip of my whiskey. It¡¯s not a conundrum I can figure out, not now, at least.


    When I finally arrive home that evening, my apartment is dark and empty. There¡¯s no hallway table to toss my nonexistent key on. There are no bookshelves filled with photo albums and old yearbooks. All my old stuff is in storage, packed up by the movers. I still haven¡¯t opened a single one of those boxes.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    I make my way through the empty living room-it¡¯s big enough that my footsteps echo-and into my bedroom. Unsurprisingly, it¡¯s as empty as the rest of my apartment. The only personal touch is the books on my bedside table, piled high. I haven¡¯t touched them since Skye was herest. Somehow, I haven¡¯t been able to read, despite the sleepless nights.


    I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling. I count all the spotlights-seven of them-before familiar thoughtse creeping in, unbidden but relentless. What is Skye doing right now? How is she handling news of the demolition? Is she having trouble sleeping, too?


    I shouldn¡¯t wonder. I should try to stop caring. That had been my MO for years, now. Caring gets you hurt and it makes you weak. My current predicament is the perfect example of that.


    Caring for Skye has gotten me nowhere.


    It took grit, and perseverance, and everything she had, I write, but in the end, the store opened. It opened its doors to amunity starved for stories, and in return, its stories were read.


    I end the paragraph with a smile on my face. For the first time in months-in years-the writing is practically flowing out of me. Word after word, chapter after chapter, the story living in me, like it¡¯s bubbling beneath my skin. It should be difficult, considering the uncertainty in my life. I should probably not be writing at all, hunched over my desk in the evening darkness.


    But ever since we got the demolition news, I haven¡¯t been able to stop.


    And the best part is that my writing isn¡¯t about Cole at all. It¡¯s not even really about Between the Pages itself, but more about what the bookstore represented. About what Eleanor was to me-and to Karli-and to so many others who needed a quiet ce of reflection.


    When I nce at the clock, it¡¯s past midnight. I¡¯ve been writing for hours again. It¡¯s funny, that. For years I thought I didn¡¯t have the words in me, and now they won¡¯t stop flowing.


    I close myptop and stow away the folder on my desk. It contains a set of printed CVs and a list of potential employers. Brooks & King is at the top of the list, including the business card I received from the department head Edwin Taylor.


    I climb into bed and try to still the spinning of my mind. Tomorrow will be another day of closing up shop. Packaging books and packing away memories. I turn over on my side, and in the stillness, my mind circles back to the one ce I don¡¯t want it to go. When the words stop flowing, the thinking begins, it seems.


    He sat right there, on the other side of my bed, leaning against the headboard while I was sick. Somehow, that¡¯s the image I can¡¯t get out of my head, night after night. His sleep-deprived eyes. The murmured conversations, where my fever removed all attempts at pretense or wit. When it was just the two of us-without a game or an agreement between us.


    Our casual rtionship had been an adventure, and it came to an end. Just as it should¡¯ve-just like all ill-considered adventures do. He¡¯d been quick to say that it was over thest time we spoke. And since then, he hasn¡¯t contacted me, nor I him.


    On my nightstand, my phone is lying innocent and quiet. Like most nights, the impulse to text him is strong. And like most nights, I fight it. Not that I¡¯d know what to say, anyway.


    I turn over on my back. ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± I say out loud. If I hear it enough times, maybe I¡¯ll start believing it. ¡°He¡¯s tearing down Between the Pages.¡±


    That should be the final page of our book, the little gold lettering of a fairy tale stating the end. And yet¡­ I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m ready for that yet. For the finality of it.


    The next day, Karlies through the front door with a package of homemade cupcakes. ¡°Look,¡± she says, holding them up for my view. ¡°Some carbs forfort.¡±


    I hold up the portable speaker I brought. ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more.¡±


    We turn on some ¡¯90s pop and work in silence. Shelf after shelf of books get put into moving boxes, all of them clearly marked with author and genre. An entire store packed up, a legacy dismantled.


    ¡°Are you sure John is okay with this?¡±


    Karli snorts. ¡°No. He said just yesterday that he liked the garage as it is. But where else can we store the inventory?¡±


    I sigh. ¡°Nowhere. But hopefully a few bookstores will respond to my email and take some of it off our hands. If not, I already have an idea for selling them online. We should be able to recuperate most of the purchasing cost.¡±


    ¡°Thank God,¡± Karli says. ¡°I might be able to sell some of the children¡¯s books to my son¡¯s school, too. They always need more books.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s perfect.¡± I look down at the book in my hand, at the Art Deco font and the beautiful cover. An American ssic, set in the roaring ¡¯20s.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 63

    Karli sees me pause and leans over. ¡°Ah. Eleanor¡¯s favorite.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± It had been a book I hated at first, mostly because I couldn¡¯t get into it. It had been assigned reading in school and nothing kills a good book more than being forced to read it. But Eleanor had helped me through it-and hermentary and insight had opened a door to reading that I¡¯d raced through headlong. She¡¯d set me on the path.


    Maybe Karli sees my thoughts on my face, because she sinks into the old armchair. ¡°Stop it,¡± she says.


    ¡°Stop what?¡±


    ¡°What you¡¯re doing. Overthinking. Reminiscing. Beating yourself up, I¡¯m guessing.¡±


    I reluctantly put the book into the moving box. ¡°Maybe a little bit.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t fail her.¡± Karli¡¯s voice is strong. ¡°We didn¡¯t. I don¡¯t believe that for a second, Skye.¡±


    My answer takes time, because as much as I want to believe her-for both of our sakes-I¡¯m not quite there yet. ¡°No,¡± I say slowly, ¡°you might be right about that. She wouldn¡¯t be angry at us.¡±


    ¡°Not in the least.¡±


    ¡°But she might be disappointed. Not in us,¡± I say hurriedly, seeing Karli¡¯s face. ¡°But in the city, in Porter Development. In the fact that bookstores aren¡¯t as valued anymore.¡±


    ¡°But they are,¡± Karli says fervently. ¡°It¡¯s just not the right time for this one. Everything has its time.¡±


    I reach for another stack of books. All around us, shelves are empty, the store echoing with our words. ¡°How can you be so calm about this?¡±


    Karli¡¯s smile is apologetic. ¡°I know I should be angrier. But I¡¯ve been angry for so long, Skye. For months and months, ever since we got the first notice.¡±


    ¡°I get it. It gets old.¡±


    ¡°It does,¡± she says with a nod. ¡°I don¡¯t have the energy for it anymore. We have to look to the future.¡±


    ¡°Have you managed to do that, then?¡±


    Her smile is back, but it¡¯s excited this time. ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve started looking at shopfronts for a bakery.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s early still, but¡­ I¡¯ve always wanted to try.¡±


    My smile is entirely genuine. For as long as I¡¯ve known her, Karli has been a baker, her favorite section of the bookstore the recipe one. ¡°That¡¯s amazing!¡±


    ¡°John is excited, too. Says he can help with website design, not to mention taste-testing,¡± she says,ughing.


    ¡°Karli, that¡¯s perfect. You could cater. You¡¯re already well-known in this area-people love you!¡± My mind is racing ahead, and Karliughs again, the glint in my eyes familiar to her.


    ¡°You¡¯re already thinking about what opening gift to get me, aren¡¯t you? We¡¯re not there yet.¡±


    ¡°But you will be. I¡¯m so happy for you, Karli.¡±


    She grins. ¡°Thanks. I was afraid to mention it to you, you know.¡±


    ¡°You were?¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe you¡¯d think I was moving on too fast. epting the bookstore¡¯s fate.¡± She looks around, at the beautiful old wood, at the ce that has been a second home for the both of us. ¡°Between the Pages was my grandmother¡¯s life. But it can¡¯t be mine, not any longer.¡±


    I reach over and put my hand on hers. ¡°Oh God, Karli, I¡¯d never think that. You¡¯re doing the right thing.¡±


    Her smile is bright. ¡°Thanks. And so are you, by the way, focusing on your writing. Are you still going to apply to Brooks & King?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But I don¡¯t have a background in editing or in publishing, and I¡¯mpeting with people who do. At the same time-¡± I¡¯m broken off by my phone¡¯s familiar tune. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Karli smiles and gets up to continue packing. Fishing my phone out of my bag, I nearly groan when I see the name on my screen. I.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I say. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    There¡¯s an annoyed sigh on the other end. ¡°You won¡¯t believe what a day I¡¯m having.¡±


    ¡°I overslept. Timmy waste to school, and then we had an ident on the way home.¡±


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, it wasn¡¯t a car ident. I didn¡¯t have enough gas in the tank.¡±


    ¡°It stalled? Oh my God, I¡­¡±


    ¡°I know, it was awful. Well, Dave helped me, all is good now. But, and here¡¯s the thing, he has a car show tonight.¡±


    Ah, I think. Here ites. ¡°Is it out of town?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯d love to go, but I know it¡¯s toote for Timmy. He has to be in bed by nine. But then I thought, Skye!¡±


    This has to stop. ¡°You know I love spending time with Timmy, but-¡±


    ¡°Perfect!¡±


    ¡°-I have ns tonight. I can¡¯t handle this on such short notice, not continually, I.¡±


    She huffs, and the sound is indignant. ¡°You have ns?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Even if I didn¡¯t, I¡¯d appreciate a bit more advance notice. It¡¯s already four in the afternoon.¡±


    I¡¯s voice is cial when she speaks again. ¡°Fine. That¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll just have to figure something out.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you will,¡± I say, not unkindly. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you soon.¡±


    She hangs up. I stare at my phone for a few more moments, a smile slowly spreading across my face. Wow. That was¡­ exhrating.


    Karli grins at me. ¡°Well done,¡± she says.


    ¡°With what?¡±


    ¡°With saying no.¡± She unfolds another moving box with sure, practiced hands. ¡°It¡¯s hard with family, I know. But you¡¯re getting better.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 64

    Her words echo Cole¡¯s, when he listened to my call with I a few weeks ago. Karli has known me forever and never asked me the reasons behind it. Cole saw our dynamic immediately. He encouraged me to stand up to her. To speak my mind.


    I miss him. It¡¯s hard to admit, but it¡¯s there, every day. I miss his voice and his opinions, his teasing smile, the glint in his eyes when he sees me. I even miss his obnoxious way of thinking he¡¯s always right.


    While I always said I hated him, I don¡¯t anymore. I don¡¯t hate him at all, not even when he¡¯s set to tear down this ce.


    And somehow, that¡¯s what hurts the most.


    I swirl the whiskey around in my ss. It¡¯s my second of the evening, and it¡¯s only a Wednesday. ¡°You¡¯re losing it,¡± I say. There¡¯s no one around to listen.


    On myputer in front of me, my emails seem to swim in and out of focus, and it¡¯s not because I¡¯m drunk. I just can¡¯t seem to bring myself to care about them.


    Demolition of the bookstore starts in less than fifteen hours.


    Have Karli and Skye finished emptying the store? Have they taken down the memorabilia, the nts, the framed pictures? Have they stowed away all the inventory? I want to know. I want to call Skye and ask, to hear her voice on the phone. To see if she¡¯d taken the old ratty armchair home to her already too cluttered apartment.


    But I doubt she¡¯d pick up. In the story of her and me, of Between the Pages and Porter Development, I¡¯m the bad guy. The ones in the movies always seems to enjoy their evilness, somehow. I can¡¯t rte to that.


    I could still stop it.


    Sure, the ns are drawn up. The investors are happy. My building team is excited to get started, and just today, someone congratted me on the new build.


    But there¡¯s still time, if I decided to change the ns.


    My team would think I¡¯m insane. There¡¯d be internal disagreements. Questions regarding my leadership, and perhaps even my sanity. It feels like a small price to pay. What do I have to lose?


    Skye.


    She might hate me for stopping the demolition for her just as much as she hates me for going ahead. Pride is an emotion both of us share. From the very beginning, she made it clear that our rtionship wasn¡¯t quid pro quo. That she didn¡¯t want to earn anything, not that way.


    If I stopped the demolition for her¡­ While I¡¯d never ask for anything in return, it would put her in an awkward position. If there¡¯s one thing I don¡¯t want her to feel, it¡¯s shame, especially not over anything we¡¯ve done together.


    I nce at the framed picture of my family on my desk. My dad is in it, a couple of years before he passed. He¡¯s tall and suit-d, a hand on my shoulder as I graduate college. My sister is beaming beside me, braces on her teeth.


    For years my dad had loved to listen to my business dealings. Wanted me to run through them so he could listen and givements. What would he say about this one? He was always the one who instilled in me the importance of making sound financial decisions, of trusting experts. Doing things by the book.


    There¡¯s never only one option, he often said. Find the third way. That¡¯s where sess lies.


    Maybe his advice isn¡¯t applicable here, but I have to try. Find the third way.


    Skye had mentioned that their numbers were still up; they might be profitable in a few months¡¯ time. Incorporating their store would help appease the project¡¯s protestors, not that they were many.


    Could I make the decision for the business itself, and not for Skye?


    I search through the sharedpany drive on myptop until I find the project. And there, in a little folder titled ¡°Between the Pages Financial Records,¡± is the ounting report they submitted to mypany.


    I click it open. I¡¯m immediately assailed by colorful graphics. On closer inspection, one is duplicated, the numbers just inverted. Why would their ountant do that? To make it look fancier?


    I scroll through the numbers, searching for sales and inventories. Assets and debt. Instead, I fall down a financial rabbit hole.


    Their numbers are confusingly disyed. It¡¯s a beautiful document, sure, if you aimed for style over substance. But the meat is sorelycking. I parse through the pretty phrasing and the artfully created tables to scour the numbers. And that¡¯s when I find it.


    The error.


    At first, it¡¯s small enough that my eyes dart over it, but on the second pass it stands out like a sore thumb. It¡¯s a deliberate error, too. Their ountant has incorrectly ssified a whole section of sales. Ie is described as expenses.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    It¡¯s embezzlement 101.


    The blood begins to pound in my temples. How did my ountants not catch this? Bryan said he would run the store¡¯s numbers past our in-house financial department.


    Ice sets in my stomach when I realize the reason. Of course, Cole. If Porter Development¡¯s ountants are worth their name, they saw it, and they didn¡¯t call it out. Why would they? We have no incentive to. Because the truth, hidden beneath this fraudulent document, is clear.


    Between the Pages was profitable.


    And someone submitted a forged document to ourpany in the hope that we¡¯d let it slide.


    Skye had seeded. She managed to turn it around, damn it, and their ountant and my own damnpany are trying to cheat her out of it.


    My hand is nearly trembling with cold fury when I reach for the phone. Bryan is my first call.


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°The bookstore¡¯s numbers are falsified. Did you know?¡±


    A delicate pause. ¡°Sir¡­¡±


    ¡°Answer the question.¡±


    ¡°The financial team made me aware, on the down-low, that their ounting report seemed¡­ amateurish. Riddled with errors. I decided not to press the issue.¡± He lets the words hang for a few moments. ¡°Why would we, sir?¡±


    ¡°Because we made a business deal with them. Because I gave my word.¡± My voice hardens. ¡°We halt tomorrow¡¯s demolition. Nothing proceeds until our ountants have double-checked the whole thing.¡±


    Shocked silence. And then, just as I¡¯d expected, his outraged voice. ¡°Things are already in motion. Pausing it now will cost you money. Sir.¡±


    ¡°So be it. I¡¯m calling Sam next to let him know the exact same thing.¡±


    ¡°Well. All right, I¡¯ll make the arrangements, too.¡±


    ¡°I expect you to.¡± My hand tightens around my cell phone. ¡°I don¡¯t appreciate you deciding what information I will or will not have ess to regarding my own business deals, Bryan.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡±


    I hang up, my anger no less sated. Bryan might have been a snake, but he¡¯s a snake I hired and promoted. I should have asked to see the numbers myself and not simply trusted.


    Sam takes longer to answer, and when I nce at the time, I realize why. It¡¯ste-far toote for his boss¡¯s boss to be calling.


    ¡°Sorry to bother you at this time, Sam, but it¡¯s regarding demolition tomorrow. We¡¯re going to have to halt it.¡±


    He takes it in stride, uplicated andpetent. ¡°Okay. Will do. Anything I need to know about?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 65

    ¡°Internal politics, you know the drill. We might end up keeping the structure. Possibly incorporating it.¡±


    There¡¯s silence on the other line, just like from Bryan. Sam¡¯s, at least, is just shocked-there¡¯s no dismay in his pause. ¡°All righty. I¡¯ll let my crew know.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±


    Running as a current beneath my skin is the need to tell Skye. She¡¯s the one who¡¯s been duped-by who, I don¡¯t know. There¡¯s no doubt in my mind where their profit has disappeared, though. That ountant of theirs has made a killing.


    I grab myptop and phone, striding for the elevator. It¡¯ste. She hates me. And yet, there¡¯s nowhere else I can be right now and nothing else I can do. I have to set this right. Having given Charles the night off, not to mention downed two whiskeys, I¡¯m left with no other option than to hail a cab. I dial Skye¡¯s number when I¡¯m nearly at her apartment.


    There¡¯s fierce purpose in my voice when she picks up. ¡°Skye, it¡¯s Cole. We need to talk. I¡¯ming over.¡±


    Her silence is absolute. And then, quiet and surprised. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something I need to show you.¡±


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s about the bookstore. You guys did it. You were profitable, Skye. The numbers are wrong.¡±


    Her breath is shaky, and I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s with relief or pain. ¡°We were?¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°Yes. Let me prove it to you.¡±


    ¡°When do you get here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m parking outside right now,¡± I say, pulling onto her street.


    ¡°Good,¡± she says, fire in her own voice. ¡°I¡¯ll leave the door open for you.¡±


    My patience is stretched too thin to wait for change, and the cab drivers grins at the obscenelyrge tip. I take the steps to her apartment in two. She¡¯s waiting by her front door. At first, the shock of seeing her after nearly two weeks apart drives all thoughts of embezzlement from my mind. Her thick brown hair is in a braid down her back, an oversized sweater loose on her frame. There¡¯s not a stitch of makeup on her skin. She¡¯s painfully beautiful.


    ¡°If you¡¯re joking about this,¡± she warns, ¡°Cole, I swear I¡¯ll-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    Maybe she sees it in my eyes, or maybe she¡¯s shocked that I walk straight past her into her apartment, but for some reason Skye doesn¡¯t protest. She just locks the door behind me instead. ¡°But the numbers didn¡¯t add up,¡± she says. ¡°We were told the store wasn¡¯t profitable. How¡­?¡±


    ¡°Your ountant lied.¡± I open myptop and pull up Between the Pages¡¯ documents, sitting down at her kitchen table. She takes a seat next to me. The scent of her shampoo, as floral as ever, washes over me.


    ¡°Look.¡± I point at my screen, at the error, at the numbers that don¡¯t add up. ¡°She didn¡¯t try to hide it particrly well.¡± My voice grows hard. ¡°I¡¯m guessing she gambled that neither you or Karli would figure it out, and what¡¯s more, that Porter Development would let it slide.¡±


    Skye¡¯s voice is shaky. ¡°Could it be a mistake? It¡¯s not¡­ it can¡¯t be deliberate.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a hundred percent deliberate.¡± I¡¯m harsh, but this is too important, and I¡¯m too angry on Skye¡¯s behalf. ¡°She must have funneled your profit into her own ounts.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ I¡¯ve known her since college!¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that means nothing, really,¡± I say, thinking of Ben. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Her hazel eyes are zing. ¡°So we¡¯re profitable?¡±


    ¡°The numbers sure seem so, yes. But I¡¯ll make sure my ountants run a thorough check on it.¡± And give me the correct information this time, I think.


    Skye gets out of her chair, energy running through her body, and starts to pace in front of me. In her pajama shorts and slippers, she¡¯s a glorious sight.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe this. I was the one who rmended her!¡±


    ¡°You had no way of knowing.¡±


    ¡°But I should¡¯ve. We should¡¯ve double-checked the numbers.¡± She wraps her arms around herself. ¡°Damn it, if only I knew how bookkeeping works.¡±


    I close myptop. ¡°You know now.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re profitable¡­¡± she says, eyes boring into mine. There¡¯s hope there, and confusion, and anger. All rolled into one.


    ¡°I¡¯ve called off the demolition.¡±


    Her eyes widen. ¡°You have?¡±


    ¡°Of course. You made a deal with me, Skye, and I¡¯m going to honor it.¡±


    ¡°We did it,¡± she whispers faintly. Her voice is dreamy. ¡°We actually turned it around. The store is saved.¡±


    ¡°You did it.¡±


    ¡°I knew it! We had so many more customers. Our sale was working. Damn Chloe.¡± She sits down next to me again, her handnding atop mine gently. ¡°Karli and I need to take legal action against her, don¡¯t we?¡±


    I nod, wondering if I could grasp her hand in mine, or if that would be pushing it. ¡°Yes. What she did was illegal.¡±


    Skye gazes off into the distance, her face set in a mask of determination I recognize well. ¡°I¡¯m going to make sure the store gets every cent back.¡±


    ¡°I have no doubt about that.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Cole,¡± she says, her hand tightening around mine. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to bring this to me. I appreciate that, you know.¡±


    ¡°I was already considering halting the demolition.¡± The admission spills out of me of its own ord, her nearness and warmth like a nket offort.


    Skye¡¯s mouth drops open in surprise. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I couldn¡¯t stand the idea of you hating me,¡± I say. My gaze travels across her face, noting the surprise in her eyes, the tendrils of hair escaping her loose braid. ¡°But that¡¯s a discussion for a different day. What are you going to do now?¡±


    ¡°I need to call Karli,¡± she says. ¡°And I have to see Chloe. Our ountant,¡± she adds, seeing the confusion on my face.


    ¡°You want to confront her?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I have to know, to hear her say it.¡±


    ¡°It might make things harder for you, and not easier,¡± I caution. Confronting Ben hadn¡¯t helped me in the least, especially not hearing him admit to what he¡¯d done.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 66

    Her eyes soften. ¡°You¡¯re right. But I have to. I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll invite myself over tomorrow evening.¡±


    ¡°Anything you need, Skye.¡± I reluctantly pull my hand out from underneath hers. It¡¯ste, and she has much to think about. She needs to call Karli. To process this. As much as I want to stay, it would be pushing things.


    Skye reaches out to put a hand on my sleeve. ¡°Wait. What happens next?¡±


    And damn it, but I can¡¯t help myself. I reach out and push a lock of her hair back behind her ears. Skye doesn¡¯t seem to be breathing, looking up at me. ¡°Invite Karli to my offices the day after tomorrow,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ll meet with my ountants andwyers. Go over the bookkeeping in detail and work out a strategy for the bookstore going forward.¡±


    Skye¡¯s breath is shaky, and then she¡¯s hugging me, her head against my neck. Slowly, I wrap my arms around her. She¡¯s so warm. The scent of her hair is in my nostrils, the curve of her waist beneath my hands.


    I don¡¯t want to let her go.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say. Thank you.¡±


    I touch my lips to her ear, unable to resist. ¡°There¡¯s no need to thank me, Skye. You did all of this yourself.¡±


    My tone is warm. I wonder if she hears the truth, all the things I find myself wanting to say, and unable to bring myself to. Not yet.


    ¡°Not the nts,¡± she says, a smile in her voice.


    She¡¯s still in my arms. ¡°Okay, so maybe I helped a little. But I¡¯m the one who should apologize.¡±


    She pulls away and I let her go reluctantly. There¡¯s a smile on her lips. ¡°I think we both should, but¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s for another day. I understand.¡± I take a step back, releasing her hand. ¡°Call Karli. I¡¯ll talk to you tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± She wraps her arms around herself again, the long sleeves covering her hands, and watches me as I open her front door. Despite the subject matter, despite the confusion between us, the look in her eyes makes my chest tighten with emotion. ¡°Thanks, Porter.¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in my voice. ¡°You¡¯re wee, Hond.¡±


    I square my shoulders. Despite my calm assurance to Karli that yes, I can do this, don¡¯t worry, anxiety runs through my veins. And right behind it, guilt. I had rmended Chloe. She¡¯d been hired on my suggestion, and then she¡¯d screwed us over.


    I press the inte to Chloe¡¯s apartment. ¡°I¡¯m downstairs.¡±


    ¡°Come on up!¡± Her cheery voice makes my stomach drop even lower. If Cole is right-if her mistake isn¡¯t a mistake at all but deliberate embezzlement-she¡¯s still willing to have dinner with me. Just imagining it makes me feel nauseous.


    My phone feels like a box of dynamite in my pocket. It¡¯s recording all sound, anything we say saved for posterity. That¡¯s the second reason I¡¯m here tonight. To get an admission on tape.


    Chloe opens the door to her apartment with a smile, her hair in a high ponytail. ¡°I¡¯m so d you took me up on the offer of dinner.¡±


    Does she mean that? Twenty-four hours ago I wouldn¡¯t have doubted her for a second. Now, I can¡¯t not.


    ¡°Thanks for having me. Wow, whatever you¡¯re cooking smells good.¡±


    ¡°Pasta carbonara. It¡¯s a simple enough recipe.¡±


    I follow her through the living room-a plush couch, arge TV-into a big kitchen. ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°that¡¯s still a huge step up. Do you remember in college? We¡¯d make Pop-Tarts in the toaster in our room.¡±


    Chloeughs, stirring a pot of boiling pasta. ¡°Yes. Vani for me, chocte fudge for you.¡±


    ¡°Those were the times.¡± I lean against the counter, wondering where we went wrong for this to have happened. Sure, we¡¯d drifted apart, but there was a time when we¡¯d shared both our days and nights together.


    She offers me a ss of wine, her smile still in ce. My palms feel sweaty around the ss. Dinner had been a pretext to get invited, to ensure I got answers face-to-face, to avoid being a dodged phone call. But how do you bring it up? This wine is divine. Also, did you steal money from our business?


    ¡°So,¡± Chloe says, ¡°how has the job hunting been going? After the bookstore closed?¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°So far so good. I have a few applications going out this week.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great, that you¡¯re staying on top of it. And please, let me know if I can do anything to help.¡± There¡¯s a beautiful disy ofpassion in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m truly sorry about the way it ended.¡±


    My wine tastes sour. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She turns back to the pasta. ¡°I tried everything I could.¡±


    ¡°Did you?¡± I say. ¡°How nice.¡± I put my ss down and wipe my hands on my dress. If I¡¯d ever harbored a long-lost dream of bing a spy, this little attempt would put an end to it. I¡¯m awful at it. Nerves are making my throat feel tight. ¡°Where¡¯s your bathroom?¡±


    ¡°Down the hall and to the right.¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    I shake my head at myself as I walk swiftly from the kitchen. Just confront her, Skye. How hard can it be? Cole¡¯s wordse back to me, the ones regarding my sister. You never seem to have a problem standing up to me. Do the same to her.


    The fire is there, inside me, burning at afortable distance. All I need to know is if it was deliberate. And if it was¡­


    Absent-minded as I am, I open the wrong door to the bathroom. It¡¯s her walk-in closet. And it¡¯s filled top to bottom with handbags, with shoes, with belts. Beautifully disyed bags in a myriad of colors, both brands I recognize and ones I¡¯ve never seen before. Designer handbags has never been my thing, but even I know that the collection in her closet is worth thousands of dors.


    My mind makes the assumptions lightning fast. The fire in me erupts and burns, righteous and fierce. I shut the closet with a bang and stride back into the kitchen.


    ¡°Chloe.¡±


    ¡°We found an ounting error in your bookkeeping.¡± Maybe I should have phrased it differently, maybe I should have been smoother, but suspicion and anger are like a cloud around my mind.


    Chloe gives a wan smile. ¡°Is there? I triple-checked, Skye, but if you want to point it out to me I¡¯d be happy to look it over. Just send it to me tomorrow, okay?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that kind of error.¡± My hand isn¡¯t sweaty now; it¡¯s clenched into a fist at my side. ¡°I¡¯ve been informed that it¡¯s a big one. The kind you¡¯d know about while you¡¯re making it.¡±


    Chloe puts down her phone. ¡°Skye, what are you saying?¡±


    ¡°Have you been embezzling from the bookstore?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She blinks at me, once, twice, but the outrage looks superficial. Her eyes are too impassive.


    ¡°Why would you do that?¡± I demand. ¡°Why would you need to? Chloe!¡±


    Her affronted mask crumbles, her mouth turning down in a frown. ¡°Damn it. You were never supposed to figure it out. You weren¡¯t supposed to be told!¡±


    ¡°To be told?¡± I¡¯m shaking, I¡¯m so angry. ¡°How could you? That¡¯s Karli¡¯s livelihood. It¡¯s my job. And for what? So you could buy more designer bags?¡±


    She shakes her head angrily, but it¡¯s not in denial. ¡°You have your books, you always did. I like something different. God, you were always so judgmental!¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 67

    ¡°For judging you aboutmitting a crime?¡±


    ¡°The business was over, Skye. Neither you nor Karli was willing to see the writing on the wall. The store was going to close. All I did was give it a little nudge.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious? We had a deal; we could stay if we were profitable. And we were, until you tried to hide it. How the hell could you?¡±


    Her smile bes an ugly thing. ¡°If you thought Porter Development was ever going to honor that little deal, then you¡¯re a fool.¡±


    I want to shake her, I want to p her. I take a deep breath. ¡°Give back the money. Every single cent, Chloe.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have it.¡±


    ¡°You spent it all?¡±


    ¡°So what if I did?¡± Her eyes narrow, a nasty expression in them. It¡¯s a side of her I haven¡¯t seen for years, and never this pronounced. ¡°Demolition began today. I know the timeline, Skye. Where would you get the support? Who would help you? I¡¯m pretty sure Porter Development saw my error, but why would they care? They¡¯re getting exactly what they wanted.¡±


    I can¡¯t believe what I¡¯m hearing. I take a step back, wanting out of her presence. ¡°If you think you¡¯ve won here, you¡¯ve got another thinging.¡±


    ¡°Do I? I¡¯m sorry, Skye. It wasn¡¯t personal. It was just business.¡±


    ¡°You bitch.¡± Chloe blinks at me, like she can¡¯t believe I went there. Frankly, I can¡¯t either, a part of me observing myself as from a distance. The other part-the part in control-has no time for niceties. ¡°You destroy someone¡¯s business and you say it¡¯s not personal? Absolutely unbelievable. And you¡¯re the fool if you think either Karli or I are going to take this lying down.¡±


    I walk through her living room, grabbing my jacket off the chair where I¡¯d thrown it.


    ¡°Good luck!¡± she calls. ¡°Porter Development is knocking!¡±


    My skin feels hot, my blood boiling close to the surface. What I do next surprises even myself. On a peg next to her front door is a crossbody purse. The designerbel on it is one of the few I recognize. So I reach out and snatch it, holding it close to my chest as I race out of her front door and out onto the sidewalk.


    Therge Jeep is waiting for me, and so is the driver. I jump into the passenger seat. ¡°Oh my God.¡±


    ¡°Did it go well?¡±


    I nce at the front door. There¡¯s no sight of her, not yet at least. ¡°Yes. Go, go, drive!¡±


    Cole turns the key to the ignition. ¡°I¡¯ve never been a getaway driver before.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s never toote to learn.¡± I slump against the seat, my breathing fast. ¡°She did it. She admitted to it. I can¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m so angry.¡±


    His hand twitches on the steering wheel. ¡°You have every right to be. Did you record her saying it?¡±


    I double-check my phone and turn off the recording function. ¡°Yes. Yes, and she admitted it outright.¡±


    ¡°She said she didn¡¯t have a cent of it left. And that Porter Development was going to bury us.¡±


    Cole¡¯s mouth tightens. ¡°Well, I have it on good authority that Porter Development will do no such thing.¡±


    I close my eyes, breathing through my nose. ¡°I¡¯m on such a high right now. Wow. Do you know what she said? It wasn¡¯t personal!¡±


    Cole shakes his head, and this time, he reaches over to put a hand on my knee. ¡°She¡¯s unbelievable. I¡¯m so sorry, Skye.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡¯m determined. I¡¯m going to get the money back, somehow, someway.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and look!¡±


    He nces over at the handbag in my hands. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°I took it. She had a whole closet full of them. She must have used the money she stole from us. And¡­ oh my God,¡± I say, the reality of our encounter hitting us. ¡°I stole her handbag.¡±


    Cole¡¯sughter is freeingrge and deep and strong. He turns the car around with his left hand, his right grasping mine in his. ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Imitted a crime, too.¡± I look down at the design, tightening my fingers around his. ¡°These probably go for quite a lot of money. I¡¯m going to hold it ransom until she pays us back what we¡¯re owed.¡±


    His voice is warm. ¡°Sounds perfectly reasonable.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯reughing at me,¡± I say, and then my own anger drains out, bubbling into shockedughter. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I did that.¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± Cole says, his voice warm and strong. ¡°You¡¯re a formidable opponent.¡±


    His profile is strong, illuminated by thete evening light streaming in through the car window. Tonight¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen him drive himself, without Charles. ¡°Thank you for being my getaway driver.¡±


    His gaze softens, flickering over to me. ¡°I couldn¡¯t let you be reckless without me.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something you should know about tomorrow, by the way.¡±


    He squeezes my hand once before withdrawing, cing both hands on the wheel. From this angle, the backs of his hands are wide, the fingers long, his tan forearms on disy. Funny how such a mundane task as driving can make a man look irresistible.


    ¡°About the meeting?¡±


    ¡°Well?¡± he prompts. ¡°If you¡¯re trying to build suspense here, consider me on the edge of my seat.¡±


    ¡°Karli knows about you and me.¡±


    His gaze on me is concerned. ¡°She does? How?¡±


    ¡°Timmy. He was bragging about his idol and she overheard.¡±


    Cole¡¯s lips curve into a fond smile. ¡°How did she take it? Will I face an execution squad tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t take it well at first. I had a bit of exining to do.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    He nods, turning onto the highway to avoid the evening traffic in the city. My gaze drinks him up greedily, relishing in watching him when he can¡¯t watch me. Two weeks without any interaction had been two weeks too many. I¡¯d missed the width of his shoulders and the depth of his mind.


    ¡°I imagine the exining was difficult,¡± he says dryly.


    I chuckle. ¡°Yes. I think that¡¯s what convinced her, though. That I couldn¡¯t exin it myself. I¡¯ve never been able to, you know.¡±


    He gives a deep humming sound, and once again, things are unsaid between us. About what we are. Where we¡¯re going. If our rtionship is best kept as a fond memory.


    I know what I want. It¡¯s there, hiding in the back of my mind, a fragile hope. Screaming at Chloe has made it clearer than ever, paradoxically, that I liked who I was around him-who he¡¯d helped me be. The bravery he¡¯d helped me find.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 68

    I want to be something more than enemies. More than casual, too, and definitely more than friends. I just have to gather the courage to tell him that.


    There¡¯s a wry smile in Cole¡¯s voice when he pulls up outside my apartment, the glint in his eyes speaking of his own hidden thoughts. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°So we are.¡±


    His gaze caresses my face, my cheek, my lips. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you for standing up to your friend like that.¡±


    ¡°A simple thank you? I was sure I¡¯d be chewed out for that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not always awful,¡± I say, wetting my lips.


    His smile is a curve of possibility. ¡°Oh, I know that, Skye.¡±


    The silence between us is warm, and heady, and I want him toe up. I want to say all kinds of things, some more sappy and oundish than I¡¯m sure he thinks me capable of.


    But then he nods at my door. ¡°Take your contraband and go inside, Skye, before I push my luck.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I want you to.¡±


    He closes his eyes with a dark exhale. ¡°We¡¯re doing it right this time. That¡¯s my mantra, anyway. And that includes settling things with your business first. We¡¯re not mixing the two again.¡±


    I give a shaky nod. ¡°That sounds like a n, Porter.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to have one this time around.¡±


    His eyes are still closed, head leaning against the headrest, the picture of masculine restraint. So I press a soft kiss to his cheek.


    His eyes fly open, but I¡¯m out of his car and on the sidewalk before there¡¯s a sound of protest.


    ¡°Until tomorrow,¡± I say.


    His gaze lingers, watching as I find the keys to my apartment. The voice that reaches me through the open window is soft. ¡°Can¡¯t wait.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve run the numbers,¡± Tyra says. ¡°Between the Pages was profitable. Not by a huge margin, that¡¯s true. But it was.¡±


    Karli visibly slumps in the chair she¡¯s in, like hearing it from one of my staff makes it real-real in a way it hadn¡¯t been before. Next to her, Skye shoots me a look that¡¯s equal parts triumph and pride. What Chloe admitted is true.


    I tap my knuckles on the table. ¡°This means,dies, that Between the Pages will be incorporated in the uing Porter Development build, per our agreement. Congrattions,¡± I say. ¡°You managed to turn it around.¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    Karli releases a shaky sigh. ¡°I can hardly believe this. You¡¯ll really keep the bookstore?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say warmly. ¡°You won the bet. Besides, having seen how much the store increased its sales these past two months has made us reconsider. It could be an interesting business venture.¡±


    Skye clears her throat. ¡°And the renovations will begin right away?¡±


    ¡°Yes. My design team drew up two different alternatives for the new hotel, depending on the oue of this. Kassandra?¡±


    My head designer gives Karli and Skye a huge smile. ¡°Between us,¡± she says conspiratorially, ¡°I was always hoping for Between the Pages to stay. It¡¯s not Mr. Porter¡¯s usual style, but I think a more Old World-feel to this development could be a fantastic thing. It would diversify the brand.¡± She pushes over some sketches, the ones she¡¯d shown me before Skye and Karli arrived.


    The theme of the bookstore will set the theme for the entire hotel. There¡¯s nothing minimalist about it. No hard lines or brutalist ss. Kassandra¡¯s vision is dark wood, chandeliers, a speakeasy-themed bar in the back.


    It takes me a minute to see the brilliance.


    Porter Hotels are known for their sleekness, their elegance. It¡¯s a concept we share with many other chains. But this design¡­ well, it¡¯s unique. If it¡¯s received well, it couldunch a new line of hotels for us.


    Skye inspects one of the images. ¡°The bookstore would be a part of the ground floor?¡±


    ¡°Yes, on the corner. We¡¯d essentially build around you. Tricky, but not impossible.¡±


    Her smile widens as she looks through the sketches. ¡°When did you prepare all this?¡±


    ¡°Weeks ago,¡± Kassandra replies. ¡°We had both options ready, depending on the oue of your two-month business agreement.¡±


    And that¡¯s when Skye¡¯s gaze meets mine, her hazel eyes wide and warm, and I know exactly what she¡¯s thinking. That this was in the pipeline from the beginning-that we were always going to honor our agreement. I knew she¡¯d doubted that, and no words of mine could¡¯ve set that fear to rest like Kassandra¡¯s just did.


    I can¡¯t say anything to Skye here, not with these people around. So I nod instead, a smile ying on my lips. She looks away with a grin of her own.


    That¡¯s right, I think. We¡¯re not over, you and I.


    We¡¯re just getting started.


    I approach Karli and Skye as soon as the meeting is over, letting the rest of my team filter out behind us. I ignore the curious nces they throw my way and focus on Karli. ¡°Mrs. Stiller, I¡¯d like to apologize on behalf of mypany.¡±


    Her eyes widen. ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°For epting your initial bookkeeping reports, despite their obvious errors. We should have been more vignt.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Thank you, but that¡¯s okay. We¡¯re the ones who should have double-checked.¡± Karli straightens her zer, a hint of nerves in her voice. ¡°If you feel the need to apologize, then I definitely feel the need to say thank you.¡±


    ¡°Thank me?¡±


    She meets my gaze. ¡°Yes. I know that it would have been easier for you to ept the false numbers and ignore our initial agreement. But you didn¡¯t. Thank you for that.¡±


    My gaze drifts from her to Skye, both of them looking up at me with an emotion I¡¯d never expected to see from them. Gratitude. I reach up and rub my neck. ¡°We made an agreement,¡± I say simply, ¡°and I always adhere to mine. That reminds me of something-are you in contact with awyer for dealing with Chloe¡¯s embezzlement?¡±


    Karli sighs. ¡°No. Skye and I haven¡¯t even spoken about it yet, but we¡¯ll find one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already made a shortlist of possible firms,¡± Skye adds.


    I want to smile. Of course she has. ¡°I¡¯d like to offer our in-housewyers. As Between the Pages is now a member of Porter Development, you¡¯re free to use them.¡±


    Karli¡¯s mouth opens. ¡°We couldn¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°Of course you can.¡± I stride to the door of the conference room, holding it open for them both. ¡°I keep them on retainer. Might as well get some use out of them.¡±


    Skye mouths a silent thank you behind Karli¡¯s back, her hand brushing against mine as she walks past. I escort them to the elevator and the lobby beyond, the need for Skye burning inside my chest. To talk about us, about the things we haven¡¯t said. To ask her if she¡¯s willing to turn the page.


    Out on the curb, Karli extends a hand to me. ¡°Thank you for this, Mr. Porter,¡± she says. ¡°We won¡¯t forget it.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 69

    ¡°It¡¯s been my pleasure,¡± I say, and find that I mean it. ¡°I¡¯ve visited the bookstore several times these past few months. Your grandmother created a beautiful ce, Mrs. Stiller. I¡¯m d it¡¯s still standing.¡±


    Her smile deepens, from civil and professional to something real. ¡°I think we have Skye to thank for that, too,¡± she says warmly.


    Skye¡¯s cheeks flush at thement, but her smile is warm, too. She extends a hand to me. ¡°Thank you, Cole. We should get going.¡±


    ¡°Actually, Skye, I was wondering if you¡¯d join me for an early dinner.¡±


    There it is. Let her take it or leave it-she¡¯d told me Karli already knew about us. For a breathless moment, my words hang in the air between us.


    Karli¡¯s the one who breaks the silence. ¡°I¡¯ll see youter,¡± she says to Skye, voice conspiratorial.


    And then it¡¯s just Skye and me left.


    ¡°That was bold,¡± she tells me, but her voice is teasing. For the first time in weeks, there¡¯s no censure in her eyes-no hidden dislike, no argument with herself.


    ¡°I¡¯m a bold kind of guy,¡± I say. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s get some food.¡±


    She falls into easy step beside me. In her patterned dress and trim zer, she looks professionally artsy. Like a writer-like a bookstore owner. It makes me want her even more.


    ¡°Did your staff really like the change of style for your new hotel?¡± she asks. ¡°That wasn¡¯t staged?¡±


    I smile, despite myself. ¡°Knew you¡¯d ask that. Honestly, yes, some really did. Some didn¡¯t, but they¡¯lle around. The new style has charm.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very different from your usual style.¡±


    ¡°My usual charmless style?¡±


    Her eyes dance, caught in her own words andpletely unrepentant. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Iugh, wrapping my arm around her shoulders out of habit. She doesn¡¯t shrug it off. ¡°Well, the Amena was a necessity. I¡¯m not opposed tofortable, homey living.¡±


    ¡°Like my ce.¡±


    ¡°Like yours, all twelve square feet of it.¡±


    She elbows me softly. ¡°So, we¡¯re having dinner, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I figured it was time to have that conversation we¡¯ve been putting off for days.¡±


    ¡°The one you wouldn¡¯t let us have until the business deal was settled.¡± She looks up at me. A lock of hair has escaped from her bun and it curls gently around her face. ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±


    The soft, shy smile on her face is my undoing. Skye has been a firecracker since the start-strong-willed and strong of opinion-but I¡¯ve always known there¡¯s vulnerability behind that facade. She¡¯s letting me see it.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    My words spill out of me of their own ord. ¡°I demanded an answer from you about us, the evening you came to my apartment. When you¡¯d just been told the store wasn¡¯t profitable.¡± I tuck the lock of hair behind her ear, the back of my hand lingering on her cheek. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°No. Pushing you away was the easier option, but it wasn¡¯t the right one.¡±


    ¡°I did the same thing,¡± she says softly. ¡°Keeping you at arm¡¯s length, because the alternative would have been more than I could bear.¡±


    ¡°Yes. To actually like my enemy¡­ unthinkable. And I¡¯m sorry for saying I hate you so often. I don¡¯t, actually. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already figured that out.¡±


    My smile is entirely genuine, my thoughts running away from me. ¡°I kinda liked that.¡±


    Skye¡¯s teeth dig into her bottom lip. ¡°Well, I can still say it, every now and then. As long as you know I don¡¯t mean it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a deal.¡±


    Her gaze shifts from mine to the building behind us. Her voice is teasing when she speaks. ¡°This is where we¡¯re having dinner?¡±


    Our leisurely stroll has taken us to the Amena, located just a stone¡¯s throw from my work. As ever, convenience had been king when I chose it. ¡°That was not part of the original n,¡± I say. ¡°But if you want to stay in, perhaps order takeout¡­¡±


    Skye¡¯s eyes glimmer in the evening sunset. ¡°Restaurants are overrated anyway,¡± she say. Heat ws up my spine at her low voice, at the feel of her hand in mine. We walk through the familiar marble lobby and into my private elevator. Her skin feels hot against mine as the doors open, revealing my hallway and the living room beckoning beyond.


    ¡°I hate this ce,¡± I say.


    Theughter that spills out of her is surprised. ¡°What? Where did thate from?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve made me reevaluate things,¡± I say. ¡°I bought it after Elena, and I¡¯ve barely spent any time here. It¡¯s like one giant hotel suite.¡±


    Skye reaches up toce her fingers behind my neck. Behind her, the floor-to-ceiling windows offer me a view of the burning evening sky, the setting sun zing across Seattle. It¡¯s a beautiful view, but this Skye is prettier.


    ¡°If only you had more fridge mas,¡± she teases. ¡°You¡¯d feel right at home, then.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± I say. My hands close around her waist, pulling her flush against my body. ¡°I need tons and tons of them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go shopping for some tomorrow for you.¡±


    ¡°How generous of you.¡± I tip her head back, our lips a hairsbreadth apart. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I survived two weeks without kissing you,¡± I murmur.


    She rises up on her tiptoes. ¡°Never again.¡±


    I kiss her. My intention was to go soft, to kiss her gently, to ease back into this. But Skye has never been the one to follow my lead. Her soft lips open for me and draw me in, the warmth of her mouth intoxicating.


    She sighs against me, her body melting into mine, and I lose myself in the feeling of Skye. My hands tten against her back and push her firmly against me. Her breasts are soft against my chest, her fingers winding their way into my hair, tugging and pulling.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I murmur, my lips finding their way down her neck, her cheek.


    ¡°So am I.¡± Her body, as if moving by its own ord, twines itself around mine. My hand fists her dress, pulling it up, my fingers finding the soft skin of her thigh. I hike her leg around my hip.


    This has always been an area Skye and I have excelled in.


    I lift her up and sheughs, her hair tickling my cheek. ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    I sink onto the couch with her in my arms, her legs neatly on either side of me. ¡°Not far,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re so beautiful.¡±


    She reaches up to undo her ponytail. ¡°Oh?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 70

    ¡°Yes. It was the first thing I thought when I saw you in the hotel bar, and I¡¯ll never stop thinking it.¡± My hands run up her thighs, sneaking under the hem of her dress. Her skin is like silk.


    ¡°We should go back some time,¡± she says. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll try to pick you up this time.¡±


    My smile is crooked. ¡°I¡¯d be willing, baby.¡±


    A shudder runs through her as my hands continue upwards, finding her hips, soft and warm under my touch. The perfect handhold. She smells like warm skin and woman and Skye, and my whole body tightens at the overwhelming need that sweeps through me.


    She puts her hands on my chest. ¡°Wait. Cole, if we do this again, I can¡¯t do casual,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I just don¡¯t think I¡¯m that kind of person.¡±


    I smile against her corbone. ¡°I know that.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I say, my fingers tracing the curve of her spine under her dress. ¡°I don¡¯t think we were ever truly casual. We were just very good at convincing ourselves that we were.¡±


    Skye smiles, and with her flushed skin and the joy in her eyes, she¡¯s breathtaking. ¡°So what does that mean? Are we dating now?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, squeezing her hips for emphasis. ¡°Exclusively, too.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m sharing you.¡±


    Herughter is breathless. ¡°Good, because I¡¯m definitely not sharing you.¡±


    Excitement and need and joy pounds through me, all in one heady mix. Her lips are on mine and her body is warm under my hands and for a few long moments there¡¯s no thought. I need her-and she wants the same thing, tugging at my shirt, kissing my shoulders. I pull her dress clean off and feast on her skin.


    Undoing her bra takes a few seconds and then her breasts are in my hands, the perfect weight, her nipples growing taut beneath my thumbs.


    ¡°Cole,¡± she murmurs and rolls her hips against me. ¡°Two weeks.¡±


    My hands are lightning quick, undoing my belt, pushing her panties to the side, groaning at the wetness already there. ¡°Skye, fucking hell, baby.¡±


    She rises up on her knees and then sinks back down, both of us groaning as I slide inside. It¡¯s hot and fierce and quick, over as soon as it began. Skye copses against me with a soft sigh.


    ¡°I don¡¯t ever want to move,¡± she murmurs, head against my shoulder.


    I close my eyes in pleasure. For the first time in weeks, I¡¯m perfectly at peace. ¡°Me neither.¡±


    She gives a breathless snort. ¡°Well, at least we don¡¯t have to hate each other to have great sex. Good to know.¡±


    ¡°That was never the secret to our sex.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I lean in closer, letting my teeth graze her earlobe. ¡°Even when you hated me, and even when you drove me mad, we were always clearly meant to be together.¡±


    Her fingers slide into the hair at the nape of my neck. ¡°Cole Porter¡¯s a romantic,¡± she says softly. ¡°Who knew?¡±


    ¡°You do.¡± I tighten my arms around her. ¡°Besides, I¡¯d rather be hated by you than loved by anyone else.¡±


    Skye draws back to meet my eyes. There¡¯s emotion in her gaze, more than I¡¯ve ever seen before, and it strikes me speechless. She smooths her fingers down my cheek. ¡°Well,¡± she says softly, ¡°you¡¯ll just have to get used to being loved by me instead.¡±


    ¡°Sounds difficult,¡± I say, catching her lips with my own.


    ¡°It¡¯s a proper challenge.¡± There¡¯sughter and happiness in her voice, breathless in between kisses. ¡°But you love a challenge.¡±


    I kiss her back. ¡°I do. And you just happen to be my favorite one.¡±


    Two monthster


    I wake up to sunlight and an empty bed. Groaning, I roll over, but Cole¡¯s side is cold. He¡¯s been up for a while already. ¡°Damn it,¡± I murmur into his pillow. ¡°You¡¯re too disciplined for your own good.¡±


    I contemte staying in bed and falling back asleep. Despite the sun streaming in through the window, it¡¯s early still, not to mention it¡¯s a Saturday.


    Rolling over, I find myself face to face with the pile of books on his bedside table. There¡¯s a few new additions, courtesy of me. I smile at the one on the top. He¡¯s going to love that one-it¡¯s a fast-paced psychological thriller.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    Reluctantly, I get out of bed and pull on one of the fluffy robes from the cupboard in his giant bathroom. When I¡¯d asked if anyone else had used them, he¡¯d looked surprised. I have bathrobes? He hadn¡¯t been joking when he said he spent very few waking hours in this apartment.


    As expected, he¡¯s not in the living room or in the kitchen. The door to his home office is ajar, but it¡¯s empty. There¡¯s only one ce he can be.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I say, heading into his bedroom again, to the drawer he¡¯s dedicated to me. ¡°You win. I¡¯ll join you.¡±


    Fifteen minutester, I walk into the Amena¡¯s indoor pool, the scent of chlorine faint but unmistakable. There¡¯s only one person in the water. I wrap my towel firmly around myself and sit down on one of the poolside benches.


    I¡¯ve watched him swim half a dozen times now, but it¡¯s still a thrill. He cleaves through the water like it¡¯s silk. Arms and shoulders emerge out of the turquoise water, his forward crawl the fastest of his swimming styles. When he reaches the end, he flips underwater and pushes off from the wall, shooting like a lightning bolt.


    Seeing him like this, it¡¯s not hard to understand why his body is shaped the way it is. Strong, lean muscle mass. Wide shoulders and a muscled back. Powerful legs. I watch him swim shamelessly.


    Cole spots me during one of his turns, and without pause, he changes direction. He pulls himself out of the pool right next to me.


    ¡°No,¡± I warn, watching him advance. ¡°No, no, Cole, stop!¡±


    He shakes his hair at me like a dog, cold drops of water hitting my skin. I try to dance away but he catches me around the waist. Laughing, he tugs at my towel. ¡°Here for your lesson?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but now I¡¯ve changed my mind.¡±


    ¡°Oh no you haven¡¯t. Come on, coward. Get in.¡± His skin is wet and droplets cling to his eyshes, his hair sleek on his head. It¡¯s impossible to feign anger at him when he¡¯s grinning like that, so handsome it hurts.


    ¡°One day I¡¯ll snap, you know. I¡¯ll never swim with you again.¡±


    ¡°Sure you won¡¯t.¡± He slides into the water next to me and rolls his eyes as I frown at the temperature. It¡¯s only bad for the first minute, and yet, every time is a struggle.


    Under the surface, his hands close around my waist. ¡°I¡¯m d you finally woke up.¡±


    ¡°You could have woken me when you left, you know. I wouldn¡¯t have minded.¡±


    ¡°You were sleeping so soundly.¡± He nces down, a wicked spark in his eyes. ¡°Wow. You really do find the water cold, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I-¡± He flicks one of my hardened nipples and I gasp. ¡°Not here!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re alone,¡± he says, bending to kiss my cheek. ¡°We¡¯re always alone at this hour.¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 71

    I wrap my arms around his neck and press my chest to his-no more ess. He carries me through the water, his body strong and hard against mine. ¡°You insist on doing this on weekend mornings too, huh?¡±


    ¡°I was in the water two hourster than usual today,¡± he muses. ¡°Because of you.¡±


    I rest my head against his shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s okay. You¡¯re not swimming forpetitions or tryouts anymore. You¡¯re allowed to rx.¡±


    His hands tighten around my thighs, moving us gradually into the deeper section. ¡°Discipline is everything,¡± he says. ¡°My father taught me that. Manners maketh man, they say, but that¡¯s wrong. It¡¯s habits.¡±


    He tips my head back and kisses me, soft, searching, gentle. His lips taste clean and warm. ¡°And you¡¯re destroying mine, Skye.¡±


    My smile is crooked. ¡°I¡¯m not going to apologize for that, you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d never ask you to.¡±


    I kiss him again, and he stops walking, my body molding to his. Sweetness turns to heat, softness to pressure, and by the time I break away I¡¯m breathing heavily.


    So is Cole, his eyes dark.


    I clear my throat. ¡°Guess what?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve abandoned your swimming lesson? That¡¯s all right. Your instructor agrees.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°No. I¡¯ve decided to turn the nove about the bookstore into a full-length novel.¡±


    ¡°You have?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It has all the right ingredients.¡± I lean back, dipping my hair into the water. ¡°Even if no one wants to read it.¡±


    ¡°False modesty is a sin, you know.¡±


    I smile up at the vaulted ceiling and float in the water, supported by his arms. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯ll stop.¡±


    ¡°Brooks & King wants the first chapters next week, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Hearing him say it sends shivers down my arms, even though it¡¯s been weeks since I¡¯d received the phone call. They¡¯d loved my query letter and said they¡¯d looked forward to reading the finished product.


    ¡°I wrote an article too,¡± I say.


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. About the renovation of Between the Pages, and about Eleanor. If I can make it interesting enough, maybe I can build some hype for the reopening.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    Coleughs and the sound makes me smile. ¡°Baby, the opening is months away. We just broke ground on the hotel!¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m just a tiny bit excited,¡± I say teasingly. ¡°Is that a crime?¡±


    He wiggles his fingers, tickling my sides, and I struggle fruitlessly to break free. ¡°Cole!¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not a crime.¡± He kisses me swiftly before releasing me, pulling away with a leisurely backstroke. ¡°ir texted earlier. She wants us three to go out to dinner tonight. She says she still hasn¡¯t met you properly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve met her three times!¡±


    ¡°Yes, but apparently meeting someone properly has to include dinner. Who knew?¡±


    I swim after him. ¡°Of course I want to go. Your sister is awesome.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought you¡¯d say,¡± Cole says morosely. ¡°I¡¯ve been reced.¡±


    I ssh him, and he looks at me usingly. ¡°Terrorist.¡±


    ¡°Vandal,¡± I counter.


    ¡°Vandal?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Did you think I wouldn¡¯t notice the rip in my pantiesst night? They were brand new, too. Allce.¡±


    His smile is wolfish. ¡°I have no regrets.¡±


    ¡°Brute,¡± I say. ¡°Never stop.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    I swim after him, the temperature of the water perfect now. ¡°I don¡¯t have any going-out clothes here at yours. I¡¯ll have to stop by mine before we meet up with her.¡±


    Cole dives clean under the surface and I watch as he clears the distance between us easily, strong arms working.


    He emerges right in front of me. ¡°Just move in with me already,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re here practically every night. It¡¯s going to happen, you know. It¡¯s only a matter of time.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d go insane,¡± I tease. ¡°There¡¯d be hair ties everywhere. Can you imagine?¡± It¡¯s not the first time he¡¯s suggested moving in together, always jokingly, and I¡¯ve always responded in turn. We¡¯ve only been dating properly for two months, after all.


    ¡°For you, I¡¯d endure endless hair ties.¡±


    ¡°How chivalrous.¡± I turn on my back, floating in the water. ¡°Maybe you should invite Nick along tonight. They like each other, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°They hate each other,¡± Cole says happily. ¡°I¡¯ve tried to get them to see eye-to-eye for a decade, and trust me, it¡¯s not going to happen.¡±


    I frown at him. Hate is not the feeling I¡¯d picked up the one time I¡¯d seen them interact. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Nowe on, baby. You¡¯re stalling.¡± Cole grabs his swim goggles from the edge of the pool. ¡°Do you want these?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I swim after him, mentally steeling myself. Cole¡¯s been teaching me how to forward crawl, and though I¡¯d felt clumsy in the beginning, I¡¯m improving with every practice. I doubt I¡¯ll ever have his powerful grace doing it, but I¡¯m willing to try.


    Cole smiles at me as he puts my goggles on. ¡°Give me at least tenps before we go to brunch.¡±


    ¡°Fifteen,¡± I say.


    He grins and pushes off the edge of the pool. ¡°Fifteen, then. Have I ever told you how much I love yourpetitive nature?¡±

 Billion Dollar Enemy 72

    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ve also cursed it, pretty frequently.¡± Like when I protested about the obscene amounts of money he spends on me. Dinners, excursions, a few beautiful dresses¡­


    Cole winks at me. ¡°Whatever I say, don¡¯t stop. I love it.¡±


    My insides warm. I love it, he¡¯d said, but my mind is already racing ahead. To the day we¡¯ll say those three little words to each other. I know we¡¯re not there yet, but it¡¯s been dancing on the tip of my tongue for days, the feeling overwhelming. It won¡¯t be long.


    ¡°Come on now,¡± he says. ¡°I want to see you swim.¡±


    So I push off and follow him across the deep.


    Epilogue


    Cole, a year and a halfter


    Skye smiles and pushes back her hair, epting the huge bouquet given to her. ¡°Thank you,¡± she says, though I¡¯m too far away to hear the words. I¡¯m familiar enough with her lips to read them without effort.


    She¡¯s wearing the floral dress I¡¯d bought her. I¡¯d seen it walking by a high-end store and picked it up without much fuss-simply because I wanted to see it on her. I¡¯d known the silken fabric would look amazing on her, and I¡¯d been right. It shines in the low bookstore lighting.ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    Skye had argued against the purchase, of course, as she so often does. You can¡¯t spend this kind of money on me, Cole.


    It¡¯s taken me a lot of effort to meet those arguments with logic and understanding. Now, nearly two years into our rtionship, she¡¯s much better at epting it. I have more money than I would need if I lived a hundred lifetimes. A nice restaurant for dinner makes the both of us happy; a beautiful gift is something I enjoy getting for her. The point of working so hard, after all, has always been to one day enjoy the fruits of thatbor. And there¡¯s no one I want to enjoy it with more than her.


    Karli breaks me out of my musings, stopping at my side. ¡°She¡¯s earned this,¡± she says, both of us watching as someone asks Skye to sign a book. The pride in her voice echoes mine.


    ¡°She certainly has,¡± I say warmly.


    ¡°The renovation of Between the Pages turned out beautifully,¡± she says softly. ¡°I never doubted you, nor Skye. And still¡­ this is better than my wildest dreams.¡± She sweeps an arm out at the expanded space. More little nooks and crannies have been added. Nearly every section has been erged. And yet, the original structure and the old-fashioned charm is intact. The old spiral staircase remains, and in the corner stands a ratty armchair. Antique beams have been installed, and books surround us like trees in a forest.


    ¡°I¡¯m d you approve,¡± I say smoothly. ¡°And you know you¡¯re wee to take back the operational role if you ever want it.¡±


    Karli gives a littleugh. ¡°Thank you. I appreciate it, but I doubt that. I¡¯m enjoying my new job too much.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°Because you¡¯re about to get busy.¡±


    ¡°I am?¡±


    ¡°Mypany regrly has meetings and events where we need baked goods. I gave the name of your new bakery to my head of nning. Expect a call this week.¡±


    Karli¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Cole, I couldn¡¯t ask that of you. It¡¯s too much.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not asking, I¡¯m offering. Besides,¡± I say with a wink, ¡°Skye has brought me some of your cupcakes. I¡¯m doing my own employees a favor here.¡±


    Karli swallows. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°No, I have to. And thank you for this,¡± she says in a low voice. ¡°For the bookstore, for Skye¡­ for making her happy. For all of it.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t say you¡¯re wee to that,¡± I say firmly. ¡°Not when it¡¯s so clearly benefitted me too.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Karli notes. ¡°The hotel.¡±


    But that¡¯s not what I¡¯d meant at all. ¡°No, although that too. I meant Skye.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re good for each other,¡± she says. ¡°Will you excuse me for a moment? I want to check on the caterers. I think I just saw a tray of unpowdered beis being served¡­¡±


    I can¡¯t help smiling. ¡°Of course, go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡± She¡¯s already heading off, pushing through the throngs of customers. Above us, the Skye Hotel stretches ten stories tall. Between the Pages set the tone for the decor, all dark tones and Old European furniture. It¡¯sfort and culture all rolled into one.


    Skye had protested at first. You can¡¯t name the hotel after me! But it was a ster name, and I loved seeing it on all my documents. And after I¡¯d proposed it to my team¡­ well, it took on a life of its own. Soon, I couldn¡¯t change it even if I wanted to-and I certainly didn¡¯t.


    I turn back to watch her talk to a customer, happiness clear in her features. This is a day she¡¯s earned. Bing co-owner of the newly re-opened Between the Pages has done her good.


    So has the release of her debut novel.


    Maybe she feels me looking at her, or maybe her eyes roam of their own ord¡­ but she sees me standing in the wings.


    A smile lights up her face. It¡¯s a private one, meant just for me, and it¡¯s filled with intimacy. I watch as she excuses herself and a few secondster she¡¯s in my arms. ¡°You¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°Of course I am.¡±


    She nces back at the line, at the crowd. ¡°Can you believe this?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s a fantastic book, Skye. They see it. That¡¯s what they¡¯re here for.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention Brooks & King pulled out all the stops for thisunch party,¡± she says archly, but her eyes dance. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m having a book reading of my own.¡±


    ¡°Are you nervous?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯d have to be dead not to be.¡±


    I kiss her, reassuring, warm. ¡°You¡¯re going to knock them dead, baby.¡±


    Her hands flex around my shoulders. In the dim light, her engagement ring glitters. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°And as soon as you¡¯re done you¡¯ll be drinking champagne, a celebrated author, basking in people¡¯s congrattions.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Just what I wrote the book for.¡±


    ¡°Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, they say.¡± I bend down further, my lips against her ear. ¡°But I love it when you use it.¡±


    I can feel Skye¡¯s smile against my skin. ¡°I hate you,¡± she says.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it.¡±


    She leans into my side and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into my body. ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you. Now go out there and kick ass.¡±


    And she does. I stand in the back, watching as she takes a seat on the impromptu stage. Edwin Taylor clears his throat into the mic, and the crowd quiets. ¡°We¡¯re here today to listen to Skye Hond, our newest author, read an excerpt from her debut novel. But first-what inspired you to write this novel?¡±


    Skye¡¯s answer is lengthy, and personal, and I watch several people dab at their eyes. Eleanor¡¯s dream became her dream, and with it, the bookstore. Her eyes flicker to Karli in the front row.

 Billion Dollar Enemy 73

    She reads a passage from the book to rapt silence. It¡¯s an excerpt I¡¯ve heard many times before-she¡¯s been practicing this reading with me as her audience-and still¡­ I want to burst with pride.


    She aplished her dream, and I know it¡¯s only the beginning.


    I join in on the feverish apuse as she finishes up. Her smile, shy and proud at the same time, makes me ache inside. Hard to believe she¡¯s all mine, sometimes.


    ¡°Cole!¡± Timmy pushes his way through the crowd to me. ¡°There you are!¡±


    I pull him in for a half-hug. ¡°Man, you get taller every time I see you.¡±


    He straightens a bit. ¡°I know. I¡¯m getting faster, too. Yesterday at practice I managed to get two home runs.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I had to tell you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impressive.¡± I put a hand on his shoulder and he beams up at me. Two years with Skye has also meant two years with her family, and while I and I still don¡¯t see eye to eye, Timmy is mine to the bone.


    ¡°We¡¯re still going to the game on Saturday, right? You and me?¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t miss it for the world,¡± I say. Timmy and I go to most games by ourselves now. Skye joins asionally, but she¡¯s just as happy to send us off for what she calls ¡°guy time.¡± I don¡¯t mind at all. In fact, I¡¯m currently in talks with the team to organize a meet-and-greet with the yers for Timmy¡¯s birthday.


    I joins her son and shoots me a polite smile. She shares Skye¡¯s brown hair and hazel eyes, but she wears the features so differently that they hardly look rted. ¡°This is beautiful, what you¡¯ve done for Skye,¡± she says.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I respond, ¡°but she wrote the book by herself. Got it published herself, too.¡±


    I smiles, but there¡¯s a glint in her eye that tells me she¡¯s not convinced. I swallow my anger and look for Skye in the crowd again. She¡¯s glowing. As the months have gone on, she¡¯s learned to tune out her older sister¡¯s negative energy. As for myself, I only grow more and more incensed by it.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure,¡± I says. ¡°She¡¯s worked very hard. But then again, having you as a boyfriend certainly can¡¯t hurt.¡±


    She says it with a wink, but there¡¯s nothing humorous about the implication. As Skye¡¯s sess has bloomed, I¡¯s littlements have grown in rancor. ¡°Fianc¨¦,¡± I correct. ¡°And if I¡¯ve given anything, it¡¯s only been moral support.¡±


    I snorts good-naturedly, but it doesn¡¯t fool me. She¡¯s not convinced. I leave her behind in search of my fianc¨¦e, finding her halfway through her first ss of champagne and with a beautiful flush of excitement on her cheeks. I slide an arm around her waist. ¡°The reading went so well.¡±


    ¡°It did, didn¡¯t it?¡± In her heels and her sleek dress, she¡¯s somehow professional and irresistible at the same time. It reminds me of how she¡¯d looked at Legacy, the first time I¡¯d seen her. Mysterious and alluring. ¡°I¡¯ve signed so many books, too. Do you want your own copy?¡± she asks, eyes glittering. ¡°Who should I make it out to?¡±


    ¡°Dear stud,¡± I say.


    ¡°Oh, of course. I can¡¯t believe I even needed to ask.¡±


    ¡°I forgive you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll ept ¡®to my future husband,¡¯ too.¡±


    ¡°I like the sound of that.¡± She stands on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. ¡°Should we head to dinner soon? I don¡¯t want to keep ir and your mom waiting.¡±


    ¡°We can go now,¡± I say. ¡°Do you feel finished here?¡±


    ¡°I do. I¡¯m not sure how much more attention I can take.¡± Her voice is yful, but the sentiment is genuine. Being the center of attention-having a function revolve entirely around you-is tiring as hell. I¡¯d know.


    I take her hand in mine. ¡°Thene on, baby. Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    We make our way out of Between the Pages and the Skye Hotel, out to where Charles is waiting with the car. I open the door for her and she slides into the backseat. Charles gives her a warm hello, shooting me an excited smile. He¡¯s in on the surprise.


    ¡°I¡¯ve gained a whole new appreciation for you tonight,¡± Skye says.


    ¡°Yes. For handling all those press conferences and interviews without breaking a sweat.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve had a fair bit of practice.¡± Reaching over, I put a hand on her knee. ¡°And I hope you¡¯re notpletely worn out. We¡¯re making a surprise stop before dinner. I have something to show you.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°You do?¡± Her eyes instantly alight with mischief, a smile on her lips. I press a kiss to her temple. Two years in, and those eyes still get me going.


    ¡°Just something to celebrate my author wife.¡±


    ¡°Author fianc¨¦e,¡± she corrects. ¡°We¡¯re not married yet.¡±


    ¡°Because someone can¡¯t decide on a venue.¡±


    She tugs at my arm, mock outrage in her voice. ¡°Try finding a ce that will fit two hundred people and still feel intimate.¡±


    ¡°I would be happy eloping,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve said that since the beginning.¡±


    Skye rolls her eyes at me, scooting over until she can rest a hand on my thigh. ¡°You say that, but then I ask you about guests, and you rattle off a list a mile long. I know what you¡¯re doing, you know.¡±


    ¡°What am I doing?¡±


    ¡°Using our wedding as a chance towork. It¡¯s like you¡¯re giving out favors to people, because you know they¡¯ll appreciate being invited, and they¡¯ll inevitably be more positive to your developments because of it.¡±


    I open my mouth to argue, but what¡¯s she¡¯s saying is too spot on. Skye grins in triumph. ¡°See? And I don¡¯t object, but that means I¡¯m inviting a dozen authors and half the publishers in Seattle.¡±


    I wrap an arm around her. ¡°Have I told youtely that I love you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she lies. ¡°Tell me again.¡±


    I murmur it against her ear. ¡°I love you.¡±


    ¡°I love you too. Will you please tell me where we¡¯re going now?¡±


    ¡°Good try, but no.¡±


    ¡°Torturing someone with suspense isn¡¯t a very loving thing to do.¡±


    Iugh, my hand tightening around her waist. ¡°You¡¯re not the least bit tortured.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m just good at keeping it all inside.¡±


    Her hair smells like flowers underneath my lips. ¡°You did well tonight. I¡¯m so proud of you. The bookstore. The book. The reading. You¡¯re born for this, baby.¡±


    She¡¯s quiet for a few moments before she murmurs ¡°thank you¡± into my neck. It¡¯s muffled with emotion, and this, this right here is what I love the most with Skye. It¡¯s always real between us. Every word, every touch. Not once have I had to wonder if she cares about me, and I¡¯ve done my best to make sure she never wonders it about me.


    Trust. Communication. Love.


    All the things I never had in previous rtionships. Experiencing it with Skye now, it¡¯s obvious how false myst one had been. To believe I¡¯d ever missed Elena!

 Billion Dollar Enemy 74

    ¡°You know,¡± I say, ¡°If I were to meet Ben now, I¡¯d shake his hand in thanks.¡±


    She turns to look up at me. ¡°You would?¡±


    ¡°Without hesitation,¡± I say. ¡°He helped pave my way to you.¡±


    Skye¡¯s mouth drops open slightly, her gaze locked on mine. She¡¯s speechless. I¡¯d smile at the sight if I wasn¡¯t knocked over by the emotion in her eyes.


    ¡°Oh, Cole,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I love you so much.¡±


    I clear my throat and look past her, at the driveway we¡¯re turning onto. Therge gate swings open on our approach. It diffuses the moment, and I¡¯m d of that, because this conversation has drifted into territory I¡¯d rather not have Charles exploring with us.


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± I say softly.


    Charles parks the car in front of arge porch. The house is three stories tall, the facade white brick and ivy. Skye climbs out of the car before I can open her door, eyes wide. Artfully ced lights illuminate the beautiful brick iys. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a house,¡± I say.


    ¡°I can see that, silly. Who lives here?¡±


    ¡°No one, currently. What do you think?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful. There¡¯s so much charm.¡± She runs her hand through the little pealing fountain in the center of the driveway. ¡°There are lights on inside. Are you sure no one lives here?¡±


    ¡°Positive.¡± I take her hand in mine and pull her along up the stairs. ¡°Do you want to look inside?¡±


    ¡°Can we? Cole, what is this ce really?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a suggestion.¡± I open the front door wide for her. Charles had prepped the ce before, and there arenterns everywhere, all filled with burning candles. The lights line the double staircases. They illuminate arge living room. Even devoid of furniture, it¡¯s easy to picture the ce filled with life and love.


    Skye walks ahead of me. Her silk dress shimmers in the candlelight, her hair a waterfall down her back. ¡°Oh my God. It¡¯s magnificent.¡±


    I put my hands in my pockets and follow her as she explores the bottom floor. ¡°It¡¯s spacious,¡± I say. ¡°Has a great view, too.¡±


    She stops dead in the living room. ¡°Oh, look at this firece. It¡¯s massive.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s two, actually. The master bedroom has one as well.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and look at all these built-in bookshelves!¡±


    ¡°Let me show you the best part.¡± Grabbing her hand in mine again, I lead her onto the back porch. It opens up onto a widewn and beyond it, the million-dor view over Puget Sound.


    ¡°Oh my God, Cole.¡±


    ¡°Beautiful, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my head atop hers. For a few moments, both of us stand in silence, taking in the view. ¡°I¡¯ve bought it,¡± I say finally. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re insane.¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°Good insane, or bad insane?¡±


    ¡°A bit of both.¡±


    I run my hand over her hip. ¡°It¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t like it. We can find somece else. I can rent it out or sell it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare sell it,¡± she says. ¡°Oh Cole, it¡¯s too much.¡±


    I tug her firmly against me. ¡°Of course it¡¯s not. We¡¯re getting married, Skye. We need a house together. One filled with knickknacks and books and all the refrigerator mas you like.¡±


    ¡°No minimalism?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I¡¯ve left that behind.¡±


    ¡°And no fake fruit?¡±


    I snort. ¡°None at all.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She rxes against me, her hand on top of mine. ¡°And maybe a few kids one day?¡±


    The tentative hope in her voice makes me smile. Before her, children had felt so distant. As had buying a house. But here with her, in this ce, with my ring on her finger¡­ I can¡¯t wait. ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°As many as you want.¡±


    ¡°Good. We need drawings, you know, for all the refrigerator mas.¡±


    ¡°Right, of course. What else are kids for?¡±


    Her sigh is one of pure happiness. ¡°And so they lived happily ever after for the rest of their days¡­¡±


    Iugh, turning her around in my arms so I can see her eyes. They ze with joy. ¡°Are you narrating our life?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. You¡¯re marrying a writer, you know.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know.¡± I tip her head back to close the distance between us. ¡°And I am very d you came to Legacy that night to do research.¡±


    Her words are a soft whisper against my lips. ¡°Not as happy as I am.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Want to bet?¡±


    ¡°Sure, but you know what happens when you make deals with me.¡±


    My smile is wide. ¡°You win, I know. But somehow I like that even more than myself winning. Funny, that.¡±


    ¡°Love,¡± she says softly. ¡°It¡¯s called love. And that¡¯s a wager we both won.¡±


    THE END


    *****


    Afterword Thank you so much for reading Billion Dor Enemy!


    Keep an eye out for the next Billion Dor book following Nick and ir.

 Billion Dollar Beast 1

    ****


    My brother¡¯s billionaire best friend is my new boss.


    The same man who¡¯s hated me for years, you ask? Yep, the very one.


    Nichs Park has the worst reputation in the city. He isn¡¯t a man you befriend-trust me, I¡¯ve tried.


    No, he¡¯s made it crystal clear what he thinks of me. Vain. Spoiled. Underserving. I could probably continue, but then I¡¯d have to ask Nick for his list, and he¡¯d say no.


    Courtesy of my brother, Nick reluctantly offers me a consulting job at his firm. He expects me to turn it down, of course.


    I ept out of spite.


    Three months of arguments and dark stares. Of sudden, stolen kisses atpany parties. The heat between us grows, bursting into a wildfire that threatens to consume me whole.


    Nick has pushed me away all these years for a reason. For your own good, as he says. I¡¯m not the man for you.


    But I refuse to listen.


    We¡¯re done ying it safe.


    ****


    ir


    I¡¯m at a wedding out of state when I¡¯m confronted with my worst enemy. I spot him before he spots me: across the crowded reception hall, wearing a suit disdainfully, like he wants to shrug it off and transform into the brute he is inside.


    Enemy might be too tame a word. Nightmare is a much better description. For a people-pleaser like me, he¡¯s a personal affront. I¡¯ve tried to make him my friend for near on a decade and I¡¯ve failed for just as long.


    He takes a sip of his brandy and sweeps a dark gaze over the guests. I¡¯ll be noticed any second now. How had I not known he¡¯d been invited to this wedding?


    ¡°Is that Nichs Park?¡± Maddie asks at my side, speaking his name with obvious relish. I wish I could say no. I want to tell her that his reputation isn¡¯t deserved, that he¡¯s not that special when you¡¯ve seen him drunk and disheveled.


    But that would be lying.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, feeling like I¡¯m confirming something far more than just his name. Because even drunk and disheveled, he¡¯s absolutely magnificent.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you two friends?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s my brother¡¯s friend.¡±


    Maddie¡¯sughter is a bit too high-pitched. ¡°Well, that¡¯s even better! You have to introduce me, ir.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Her voice drops. ¡°Is what they say of him true, then? Is it better to stay away?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± I say, though I do. It¡¯s definitely better to stay away. I¡¯ve been trying to for the better part of a decade, but like a bad rash, he keeps returning, and there are no over-the-counter remedies in sight.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that he once burned down a club he owned, just to get the insurance money.¡± Maddie¡¯s voice is vibrating with delight at the idea of Nickmitting fraud. ¡°I had no idea he¡¯d be here today. Did you know he was invited?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say honestly. ¡°I had absolutely no idea. I can¡¯t imagine he knows either the bride or the groom.¡±


    I reach up to run a hand through my hair and nce casually around the room. Nick is leisurely strolling through the throng of people with his ss in hand. Despite his suit, he looks out of ce amongst the mingling guests in brightly colored dresses and dark tuxes-like a fox in a hen house. Who¡¯d left the gate unlocked?


    ¡°Introduce me, ir,¡± Maddie urges again. ¡°Come on.¡±


    And before I can protest, her hand is on my arm and I¡¯m pulled forward on my heels. They dip into the grass with every step I take.


    Nick sees us approach, his eyes flitting past Maddie to bore into mine.


    Dark, so dark, and not a hint of amusement in them. His lips grow thinner, the rough cut of his jawline working once. So he hadn¡¯t expected to see me here, either.


    ¡°ir,¡± he says. The gravel in his voice is no surprise to me, but it still makes my stomach tight with nerves.


    ¡°Nick.¡±


    Beside me, Maddie preens. I clear my throat. ¡°This is Madeleine Bishop. She¡¯s a friend from college. We both know the bride.¡±


    She extends her hand and Nick gives it a brief shake, face impassive.


    ¡°A pleasure,¡± she says smoothly. It¡¯s her flirting voice-I recognize it from our partying days.


    Nick doesn¡¯t acknowledge it. He nods to the bar behind us instead. ¡°The groom was on the thirty under thirty list in Forbes, but can¡¯t shell for an open bar?¡±


    Maddieughs, like he¡¯s being unbelievably clever. I cross my arms over my chest. ¡°So you know the groom?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I said.¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    ¡°So you¡¯re here on the bride¡¯s invitation?¡±


    His eyes flit back to mine. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know?¡± he asks. ¡°But I think I¡¯ll keep you guessing. Ladies, it¡¯s been a pleasure.¡±


    And then he strides off toward the bar without a second nce. Beside me, Maddie turns to me with incredulous eyes. ¡°Wow,¡± she breathes. ¡°You weren¡¯t kidding. You two really aren¡¯t friends.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said,¡± I say tersely, running a hand over my hair again. It shouldn¡¯t be a sore subject. It¡¯s been years, after all, since my big brother befriended Nichs Park. And still, his dislike of me stings like salt in a never-closing wound.


    Maddie takes the hint. ¡°Let¡¯s ignore him altogether,¡± she says. ¡°They¡¯re dividing guests into teams. Come on, let¡¯s join.¡±


    I take another sip of my champagne and give her a bright smile. We¡¯re at a wedding. We¡¯re here to celebrate love and life and happiness. The sun is shining. It shouldn¡¯t be difficult to put Nichs Park out of my mind.


    ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± I say.


    But as it turns out, that¡¯s absolutely impossible to do when he refuses to stay out of sight. I¡¯m standing in line for the cornhole toss when a shadow stalks in beside me. Like an electric current sliding over my skin, I know who it is before he speaks.


    ¡°ir Porter, Seattle¡¯s top socialite, ying outdoor games.¡±


    I roll my neck and pretend to ignore the jab. I fail. ¡°It¡¯s a time-honored sport. Besides, as a guest of the wedding party, you¡¯re supposed to attend all the wedding festivities.¡±


    ¡°And I suppose you think I haven¡¯t?¡±


    I squeeze my lips tight to prevent my words from spilling out. I manage restraint for a proud five seconds. ¡°I hadn¡¯t seen you at any of the pre-ceremony events.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never been good at following rules.¡±


    ¡°Why were you invited, anyway? Who do you really know here?¡±


    He raises a dark eyebrow. ¡°Such skepticism, ir. Don¡¯t you think I have friends?¡± The mocking tone in his voice makes it clear that the question is rhetorical. I answer it regardless.


    ¡°Other than my brother? No.¡±


    He steps up beside me. Somewhere from the corner of my eye, I see Maddie slink back in line, abandoning me to my new partner. Damn.


    Nick doesn¡¯t answer my question. ¡°This is a wedding to be seen at,¡± he says smoothly. ¡°Have you seen how many photographers they¡¯ve hired? Why do you think you were invited?¡±


    My stomach churns at the question. Ba and I had been friends in college¡­ Sure, we hadn¡¯t spoken much since, but I hadn¡¯t thought twice about epting the invitation to her wedding.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying I¡¯m a trophy guest.¡± I speak the words harshly, like they don¡¯t offend me.


    Nick raises an eyebrow. The sharp sunlight throws his rough features into relief. ¡°Tell me Cole wasn¡¯t invited as well.¡±


    Bending down to pick up a corn-bag, I weigh it in my hand, refusing to answer his taunt.

 Billion Dollar Beast 2

    Nick¡¯s voice is satisfied. ¡°He was, then. But he didn¡¯te.¡±


    ¡°He couldn¡¯t,¡± I say, hating how defensive the words sound. At the time, it didn¡¯t seem odd that Ba had invited my billionaire big brother. I¡¯d thought it a kindness. How had I been so stupid?


    If Nick sees my realization, he doesn¡¯t acknowledge it. He unbuttons the sp of his gray suit jacket instead, a smirk on his lips. He must be aware of the way the other guests are watching him. Watching us.


    ¡°Is that why you were invited too? For the press and prestige?¡±


    Nick¡¯s chuckle isn¡¯t amused. He understands the words as I¡¯d meant them-having him attend an event made it noteworthy, but not always in a particrly good way. If my brother is seen as a powerful businessman, Nick is the unscrupulous one.


    ¡°We¡¯re up,¡± he says instead, voice like crushed ss. ¡°Don¡¯t miss.¡±


    And of course I do. Despite my aim, there¡¯s no scoring after his words. The opposing teams cheers, high-fiving each other.


    When I turn to Nick, his lip is curled. ¡°I told you not to.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know I needed advice.¡±


    ¡°It couldn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    I grit my teeth against the annoyance that rises up inside me. I¡¯m a happy person. I like to smile and converse and make people happy. It¡¯s what I¡¯m good at, damn it. And somehow Nichs Park always makes me forget that.


    No longer. I give him a blinding smile. Judging by the faint widening of his eyes, it wasn¡¯t what he¡¯d been expecting.


    ¡°Here, why don¡¯t you throw the next one.¡±


    He epts the corn-bag I hand him with suspicious eyes. ¡°I see,¡± he says. And that¡¯s all he says, even as he lines himself up, focusing on the cornhole. Tall and muscr, with wide shoulders, he¡¯s an imposing figure. Always has been.


    He throws. It flies in an arc through the air andnds solidly in the hole. I don¡¯t look him in the eyes-I turn away instead, but I don¡¯t head to the back of the line.


    Nick follows me towards the bar.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m participating in the wedding activities. I was recently told that I wasn¡¯t being a good guest.¡±


    ¡°Why are you really here?¡±


    His gaze fastens on something in the distance. I¡¯m left staring up at the column of his throat, the rough-hewn features that have held me captive for ages.


    ¡°Nick, I-¡±


    ¡°Shh.¡±


    ¡°Did you just shush me?¡±


    He looks down at me, spection in his gaze. His wordse quickly. ¡°Pretend you like me for fifteen minutes.¡±


    I blink at him. ¡°Fifteen minutes?¡±


    ¡°I know it¡¯s a rather long time frame,¡± he grinds out, ¡°but yes, fifteen minutes.¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s that good an actress,¡± I mutter. He rolls his eyes at my words.


    And then Nick does the most amazing thing. He puts a hand on my low back, like it belongs there, as if he touches me all the time-as if this isn¡¯t the first time we¡¯ve touched since we shook hands eight years ago.


    He bends down. ¡°Look up at me,¡± he instructs. ¡°Laugh as if you enjoy talking to me.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I hiss back.


    Brief hesitation. ¡°I¡¯ll owe you one.¡±


    ¡°Whatever I want?¡±


    Longer hesitation this time. ¡°Within reason, yes.¡±


    I turn on my biggest smile, then. The one that stretches wide and reaches my eyes. It¡¯s my killer mingling smile, the one I only pull out when I really need to pack a punch. ¡°Fifteen minutes,¡± I say, batting my eyshes. ¡°Start the timer.¡±


    Nick blinks once. Twice. Then he gives a subtle nod to a few men standing not too far from us, drinks in hand.


    ¡°See the one with sses?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    His hand drifts higher, ttening against my back. The touch is warm even through the fabric of my dress. ¡°I¡¯m going to talk to him, and I want you by my side as I do.¡±


    ¡°Pretending to like you.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Need to know basis, honey,¡± he says sweetly. The endearment sounds mocking from him.


    ¡°All right, sugar muffin,¡± I respond just as tartly. ¡°Fourteen minutes left.¡±


    He grits his teeth audibly at that.


    The men look up as we approach, their conversation abruptly dying.


    ¡°Mr. Park,¡± the man in sses says. His tone is cold. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here.¡±


    ¡°Last-minute invite,¡± Nick says, an odd tone in his voice. Is that¡­ gentleness? He must be trying to win points here somehow. ¡°This is ir Porter.¡±


    I extend a hand, still smiling widely. ¡°A pleasure to meet you all.¡±


    They introduce themselves. ¡°I¡¯ve met your brother a few times,¡± the man in sses-Mr. Adams-says. ¡°Lovely guy.¡±


    I resist the urge to nce at Nick. So that¡¯s why I¡¯m here, smiling at him. He¡¯s using me in all of my trophy invitedness. ¡°Yes, he is,¡± I say, leaning into Nick¡¯s side. ¡°Despite being friends with this one.¡±


    Theyugh at my joke and Nick is forced to join in. The pressure of his hand on my back increases in a not so subtle warning to behave. Idiot, I think. I just made you look more likeable.

 Billion Dollar Beast 3

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Nick says. ¡°We¡¯ve known each other for what, eight years now, ir?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± I say.


    The shorter of the three men smiles at me. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll stay long enough to meet my wife. She¡¯s around here somewhere, and she reads every style interview you give.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s lovely,¡± I say warmly. ¡°I¡¯d love to meet her.¡±


    Nick clears his throat and I tear my gaze away to look up at him expectantly, forcing friendliness into my gaze.


    ¡°Enjoying the time away from Seattle?¡± Nick¡¯s question is open-ended, but his entire bodynguage is focused on Mr. Adams. Subtle, I think, wondering how Nick would react to my hand on his back in warning.


    ¡°I am, yes,¡± Mr. Adams says. ¡°Some time away can be good. Clears the head.¡±


    Nick nods gravely. ¡°Lends itself to making excellent decisions.¡±


    ¡°This is not the ce to discuss business,¡± Mr. Adams retorts. The two men at his side both look away, clearly ufortable with the turn of conversation. Nick is tense beside me.


    This won¡¯t do.


    I put a hand on his arm affectionately, looking over at Mr. Adams with a smile. ¡°Even at a wedding,¡± I say, making my voice light. ¡°Can you believe it? It¡¯s impossible to get this guy to rx!¡±


    Nick sighs. ¡°About as impossible as you walking past a store without purchasing anything.¡±


    ¡°Well, we all have our vices,¡± I tease, my wide smile still in ce. ¡°I¡¯m sorry we bothered you.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Mr. Adams says. ¡°It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Porter.¡±


    ¡°Likewise.¡±


    The three men stroll on, leaving Nick and I to revel in our peaceful, friendly bliss. I hit his arm.


    ¡°What the hell was that for?¡±


    ¡°You call me a trophy guest, someone invited here for appearance¡¯s sake, and then you use me in just the same way?¡±


    There¡¯s no remorse or denial in Nick¡¯s eyes. Just sly calction. ¡°You did well.¡±


    ¡°I was coerced.¡±


    ¡°No, you weren¡¯t. Now I owe you one.¡± He speaks the words with obvious distaste.


    I put my hands on my hips. ¡°So you¡¯re what? Trying to take over hispany? Buy out his board? Tank his stocks?¡±


    Nick narrows his eyes at me. ¡°You don¡¯t need to know,¡± he says, articting every word.


    I flick my hair over my shoulder and feel a faint sense of triumph as his eyes track the movement. ¡°Well, that was the first andst time you use my name to boost your reputation.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s definitely thest time.¡± He takes a sip of his drink and mutters something that sounds an awful lot like not worth it.


    I shake my head at him and start to head back to the festivities, to people who actually enjoy having me around.


    ¡°Running back to your sycophant friends?¡± he throws after me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have a hostile takeover to n?¡±


    His crooked grin is wolfish. ¡°Good idea,¡± he says. ¡°I heard a few of the bridesmaids are single¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, screw you.¡±


    ¡°Are you offering? I don¡¯t think your fifteen minutes are entirely up yet.¡±


    ¡°You wish,¡± I hiss, retreating across thewn before he has a chance to answer. How much easier my life would be if my brother hadn¡¯t decided to be best friends with the least friendly man on the. Infuriating, maddening, and absolutely impossible to ignore.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    I remember the first time I¡¯d seen him. It had been nearly a decade ago, when he¡¯d stalked into the restaurant together with my brother for dinner. I¡¯d had no advance warning that my brother¡¯s friend would be joining us. That was Cole¡¯s way, sometimes, especially in those days-he did what pleased him, like a bulldozer or a rocket. You could either stand in his way and get crushed, or adapt to his speed. Over the years, I¡¯ve gotten very good at adapting.


    Nick had worn their college jersey, ironically, like it was beneath him. I¡¯d never seen a man who moved like he did-he walked like a street fighter.


    He¡¯d joined our table with a perfunctory nod to me.


    ¡°This is Nichs Park,¡± my brother had said, flipping open the menu. ¡°We¡¯re seniors together.¡±


    ¡°A pleasure to meet you,¡± I said, extending a hand. He¡¯d looked at it once before he shook it. I remember that clearly-his brief hesitation.


    That¡¯s when I¡¯d felt the scars on the inside of his palm. Faint, but raised, and unmistakable. The surprise in my gaze must have been easy for him to read. He¡¯d withdrawn his hand and opened his menu.


    And that had been that. I¡¯d been too intimidated-too impressed, to be honest-to speak much during that dinner. The next time Cole and I were alone, I¡¯d peppered him with questions about Nick. I¡¯d done it with an air of impetuousness, and he¡¯d rolled his eyes at his annoying little sister and all her questions. He¡¯d never realized that my inquiries came from a ce of burning curiosity and genuine interest.


    Because handsome was far too tame a word for Nichs Park. There was a slight crook to his nose that gave his face character; his ck hair was cut too short to be fashionable. And yet, the olive tone to his skin, the dark of his eyes, the wildness in his jaw¡­


    I¡¯d been struck.


    And then he¡¯d struck me.


    Oh, not like that, of course. But his verbal spear had found its mark just the same. That damn party and that damn poker game. Even recalling it eight yearster, it makes my cheeks burn with indignity. Anger. The way he¡¯d turned me down with a tone of voice that was so cold it burned.


    He¡¯d been ying poker. The room was smoke-filled, the air heady, the tension around the table high. I¡¯d walked straight in. It had been foolish-I can admit that much in retrospect. I barely knew anyone at the table; Walker was the older brother of one of my childhood friends, and our fathers worked together. But the rest were strangers.


    Apart from Nick.


    He¡¯d seen me when I¡¯d walked in. His eyes had met mine for a few seconds and then he¡¯d refocused on his cards like I was nothing at all. There hadn¡¯t even been a hint of recognition in his eyes.


    That should have been a sign, really. But I¡¯d had two and a half sses of wine and I was heady with nerves and excitement. Nick was here at this party, without my brother in tow. We¡¯d already been introduced. I was his best friend¡¯s little sister.


    It was time he saw me as something other than that.


    So I nned on joining the game with a couple of hundred bucks to my name. It was a lot, and I was reluctant to risk it, but my reluctance was worn thin by the memory of Nick¡¯s sharp-edged jaw.


    I was brave-verging-on-stupid.

 Billion Dollar Beast 4

    I stopped next to Nick, almost leaning on his chair. He didn¡¯t acknowledge me.


    ¡°Good game?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Can¡¯t tell until it¡¯s over,¡± he¡¯d responded. A few of the guys around the table had smiled at that, like the answer was obvious, like I¡¯d been a fool for asking.


    That didn¡¯t dissuade twenty-one-year-old me. ¡°Deal me in? I have the cash.¡±


    At that, Nick had actually put down his cards. The other guys were looking at me then. Some with interest in their eyes-one of them ran his gaze up my form in a way that was nothing short of lewd.


    Nick met my gaze. The eyes gave me no quarter, offered no mercy. They were dark like coal and just as fiery.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a game for little girls,¡± he said. ¡°Run back to your friends now.¡±


    Maybe it would have been okay if he¡¯d said it as a joke. If there had been a teasing note to his voice, a bit of irony. Perhaps even anger-I¡¯d know what to do with that. But the cold civility in his tone shocked me to my core. It was a dismissal. I wasn¡¯t used to being dismissed.


    That was the first time I¡¯d reached out to Nick in the hopes of being friends, and it was the first time he rejected me out of hand.


    But it wouldn¡¯t be thest.Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    Nick


    ¡°Thank you, gentlemen,¡± I say, shaking their hands in turn, my grip firm. Three generations of Adams¡¯s look back at me with varying levels of hostility. I don¡¯t add any more words. I don¡¯t tell them that this was an affair well-done or that they¡¯ll be pleased. I¡¯m fairly certain they won¡¯t be by the time my ownership of thepany is finished.


    Old Mr. Adams gives me a nod. ¡°You take care of our business now, young man.¡±


    I want to grit my teeth at the epitaph, but nod. If by taking care you mean tearing it apart and selling the pieces to the highest bidder, then yes. Sure.


    They filter out of my office, having just agreed to sell their family business and life¡¯s work. Gina is waiting by the door with a practiced smile. She¡¯ll escort them out and go over the final paperwork, far away from the man who essentially gave them no choice in the matter.


    Me.


    Leaning back in the chair, I put my hands at my temples. Victory. This is victory, and it still doesn¡¯t taste sweet enough.


    It had be a drug, this. ying the long game. Taking overpanies. Buying them for a pittance.


    Selling them for parts.


    I flip my pen over in my grip and pull up thepany¡¯s website again. B. C. Adams. An old, respectable clothing chain, as all-American as apple pie and stuffed turkey and checkered pic tablecloths. Just sold to me by one Pierce Adams, Pierce Adams Jr., and Bryce Adams.


    This deal had been months in the making. Mypany had circled them sincest year¡¯s quarter reports left investors reeling. Thepany was floundering. At its current state, it¡¯s only a matter of months before bankruptcy is a given.


    One after one, other potential buyers were scared off by the abysmal financial results. One I had taken care of myself by spreading a false rumor about an uing merger and acquisition. They¡¯d dropped out of the race right before I¡¯d swooped in with my final offer.


    The board had been all for epting. Like rats deserting a sinking ship, they saw me for the piece of flotsam I was.


    The three Adams¡¯s? Not so much.


    That¡¯s why I¡¯d gone to that godforsaken wedding in Oregon in the first ce. Pierce Adams Jr. would be there, attending as a friend of the groom, so I needed to be there too. Show that I was a man to be trusted. That I could kiss babies and hug women. Could you grab a beer with him?


    I wasn¡¯t running for president, but it felt damn near close when I needed to have all three of the Adams¡¯s votes. Using ir Porter¡¯s heavenly smile to help with that had been a stroke of brilliance.


    Just the memory of her conjures up familiar feelings of frustration and anger. Blonde hair the color of wheat, curling around a heart-shaped face. Honey-brown eyes that I most often saw narrowed in annoyance.


    She¡¯d been angry to see me, a spitting kitten with her hackles raised. That was true to form. For as long as I¡¯d known her, she¡¯d been angry with me for one reason or another. Good.


    Anger I could handle-anger I liked.


    And the scolding she¡¯d given me at the end¡­ I can¡¯t believe you used me for your business deal!


    It almost brought a smile to my face, just remembering it. Basking in her anger felt a bit like basking in the sunlight. Both equally fiery and all-consuming.


    And then she¡¯d been gone in a flurry of silky fabric and flowing hair, back to her harem of low-tier socialites and fans.


    I shake my head at my own thoughts. ir Porter has already upied too much of my time today. It¡¯s time to focus on the far easier task at hand-and that¡¯s turning a failing clothing giant around enough so that I can butcher it profitably.


    When I arrive at one of Cole¡¯s properties in the evening, he¡¯s already waiting for me by the tennis courts. In his white shorts and T-shirt, he looks pristine, every inch the golden-boy billionaire he is. He hates it when I call him a blue blood, but that¡¯s exactly what he looks like. The Porters were rich long before he began building his empire.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he says, lobbying a tennis ball hard at my chest. I catch it before it makes contact. ¡°I heard you ran into ir at the weddingst weekend.¡±


    Had she tattled to her brother? A pang of disappointment hits me. She usually kept our banter private.


    ¡°I did.¡±


    I take my ce at the baseline and Cole is forced to raise his voice. ¡°And you both made it out alive?¡±


    ¡°Evidently.¡± I call back, tossing the ball high and serving, ignoring the fact that he¡¯s not in the right spot. He handles it deftly and for theing minutes there¡¯s nothing but the sound of tennis balls against racquets and the thrill of the game. I lose myself in the fight, as I so often did when I was young, surrendering to the pumping of blood and adrenaline.


    Cole mighte from different stock-he has a background of athleticpetitions and trophies-but the thrill of the hunt is the same.


    We¡¯re well-matched, have been after ying so many times together over the years. By the time we¡¯re done, we¡¯re panting, chugging from our water bottles.


    ¡°Damn,¡± he says finally. ¡°Have you been practicing with an Olympian while I was away? Your slices are deadly.¡±


    I grin at him. ¡°I had a good morning.¡±


    He braces himself against the edge of the. Sweat glistens on his skin; I¡¯m sure I look much the same. ¡°Did you close the deal, then?¡±


    ¡°I just did, yeah.¡±


    His face lights up into a smile, and for a moment it¡¯s ufortably simr to ir¡¯s-not that she¡¯s ever smiled at me like that. ¡°Hell yes. Well done, man!¡±


    ¡°Took me long enough.¡±


    ¡°Can you finally tell me whichpany it is? I need to know where to shop onest time.¡±


    ¡°B. C. Adams.¡±


    His smile fades. ¡°Shit. Really?¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 5

    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°That chain is massive. And failing. People have been cing bets on how long it¡¯ll stay afloat.¡±


    ¡°Well, a little bit longer at least. I need to squeeze out a profit from it first.¡±


    Cole runs a hand through his hair. ¡°Fuck,¡± he says again. ¡°A clothing chain. They must have massive stores of inventory.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m betting on that, yeah.¡±


    ¡°And you need to flip it fast to pay the overhead. Do you know anything about retail?¡±


    Ufortable though it is to admit, I answer him truthfully. ¡°No. But I¡¯ll hire people who do.¡±


    He bends down to tie his shoces. The wedding band on his left hand shines golden in the sunlight. The man had be near insufferable with happiness after his wedding to Skye. ¡°Hire ir,¡± he suggests. ¡°She knows fashion.¡±


    I stare down at him. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°She studied business and fashion. She had that fashion brand a few years back, remember?¡±


    Yes, I do, and the memory isn¡¯t a good one. She¡¯dunched a collection at twenty-three that had crashed and burned not two yearster. Not exactly a ringing endorsement.


    But even if that wasn¡¯t the case-even if she was the most qualified person on the-there¡¯s no way she¡¯d work with me.


    ¡°I remember,¡± I say. ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°But what?¡± Cole meets my gaze baldly. I know he won¡¯t ept a bad word about ir. I¡¯m on thin ice, and for the first time in a long while, I can feel the danger. Cole gives me a lot of leeway, sure, but absolutely none when ites to his family.


    But then it hits me.


    There¡¯s no way she¡¯d agree.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good idea,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re right, she knows the industry. I could hire her as a consultant.¡±


    Cole¡¯s shoulders rx. ¡°It would be good for her. For you both, I¡¯m sure. Who knows, maybe you can both finally learn how to get along?¡±


    I nod, though my agreement is an absolute lie.


    It sounds like a nightmare.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask her,¡± Cole continues. ¡°I¡¯m seeing herter.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I swing my bag up on my shoulder and make my face impassive. She¡¯s going to say no-what excuse she¡¯ll use to Cole, I don¡¯t know. But if there¡¯s one thing I¡¯m sure of, it¡¯s that ir Porter has never hated anyone more than she hates me.


    ¡°Do you never lock the front door?¡±


    ¡°Not when you have a front gate.¡± My brother leans against the kitchen ind, still in his dirty gym clothes, a protein shake in hand.


    ¡°Have you abandoned showering?¡±


    He shoots me a don¡¯t-start look. ¡°I just got back from ying with Nick.¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    I ignore that. ¡°Is Skye around?¡±


    ¡°No, she¡¯s out with Timmy and her sister tonight.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Try not to look so unhappy about that, will you?¡± Cole rolls his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m the one who¡¯s technically flesh and blood.¡±


    I aim a kick at his shins as I walk past. We might be older now, but he¡¯ll always have iting. ¡°I¡¯m unfortunately aware of that, yes.¡±


    I hop up on one of the barstools and reach for a muffin from the center basket. Ever since Cole married Skye, there¡¯s always good food in the house. It¡¯s one of the many, many positive changes she¡¯s wrought on my brother.


    ¡°Skye texted me about the skiing weekend,¡± I say, ¡°three weeks from now. I¡¯m guessing you closed on the ce in Whistler?¡±


    Cole reaches for a muffin of his own. ¡°Yes. It was the third link I sent you.¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± I say good-naturedly, ¡°a lot of billionaires will buy their own inds in the Caribbean. You couldn¡¯t be that kind of billionaire, could you?¡±


    My brother gives me an amused re. ¡°No. That¡¯s for egomaniacs and James Bond viins.¡±


    ¡°But an eight-room chalet nestled deep in the snowy mountains isn¡¯t?¡±


    He flicks his muffin liner over to my side. ¡°One more word and you¡¯re uninvited.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare. Skye would have your head.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately very true.¡± He reaches for yet another muffin. ¡°How¡¯s work going?¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m cautiously optimistic.¡±


    The re he shoots me this time is tired. ¡°You have to stop being cautious at some point, ir. You¡¯re never cautious in any other area of your life.¡±


    There¡¯s truth to his words but I ignore them, spinning around on the barstool instead. Ever since my fashion brand spectacrly crashed and burned-so spectacrly that it was still used as an example in the media of what not to do-talking about my career dreams hurt. Better to work in silence than let people see me fail a second time.


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± I admit.


    ¡°Probably?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the best I can give you,¡± I tell him. ¡°Remember, I¡¯m programmed to oppose you at every turn. That¡¯s what a little sister does.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and don¡¯t I know it,¡± Cole says. ¡°But put that on hold for just five minutes, okay? I¡¯ve had an idea.¡± There¡¯s a warning in his voice. ¡°And before you bite my head off, let me just say that I genuinely think this might be good.¡±


    ¡°What did you do now?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything, but I¡­ well, I suggested something to Nick and he agreed.¡±


    I look up at him. ¡°To Nick?¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 6

    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s just bought a clothing giant. It¡¯s a pretty massive deal, actually. He needs to hire a consultant to advise with the retail and fashion side. You could be that consultant. You know the industry.¡±


    I put my purse down on the kitchen ind with a bang. ¡°Work for Nick?¡±


    ¡°For Nick¡¯spany, yes.¡± Cole nces over at me. ¡°Unless you find it too distasteful. He¡¯s probably shing jobs right this moment to ensure they¡¯re profitable enough for as long as he needs them to be.¡±


    My fingers dance over the hem of my skirt. ¡°You said Nick agreed?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he did. It was practically his idea.¡±


    My raised eyebrow must have been question enough, because my big brother rolls his eyes. ¡°All right, so it wasn¡¯t. But I know you¡¯d be great at this, ir. What do you have to lose?¡±


    Ah.


    What he really means is what do I have left to lose. After my failed attempt at a fashion line, of course I¡¯d jump at this chance.


    ¡°And you¡¯re certain Nick agreed,¡± I say slowly. It makes no sense to me. Why would he entertain the idea for more than a second? The man has zero belief in my abilities.


    ¡°Yes, he did.¡±


    That¡¯s when it dawns on me-Nick doesn¡¯t think I can do it. He agreed because he bet on me being the one to turn it down.


    I put on the brightest smile possible. If nothing else, epting will annoy the hell out of him. ¡°Of course I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll give him a call right away.¡±


    Cole¡¯s smile is wide. ¡°Perfect. And who knows, perhaps the two of you will finally get to know one another better?¡±


    My smile doesn¡¯t even falter. ¡°Yes, who knows?¡±


    Nick doesn¡¯t pick up the phone himself. I speak to his assistant instead, a no-nonsense man with an equally no-nonsense tone of voice. He pauses briefly when I introduce myself.


    ¡°Porter?¡± he says in rification. ¡°ir Porter?¡±


    ¡°All right. I¡¯ll run it by Mr. Park immediately and get back to you within the hour.¡±


    He calls me back within ten minutes, and this time, his voice is nothing short of cial. Whatever Nick¡¯s reaction was, it certainly hasn¡¯t warmed his assistant toward me.


    I wish I could have seen it. Did he dramatically sweep all his things off his desk in a fit of anger? Or perhaps brood coldly, his hands white-knuckled around the edge of his desk?


    ¡°Mr. Park is d you epted,¡± his assistant lies coolly. ¡°You¡¯re wee toe into the office tomorrow morning. We¡¯ll send you more detailed instructions by email within the hour.¡±


    My head spins as I hang up the phone. The decision to agree had been impulsive-driven by the desire to tell Nick off, to show him up. To beat back against his belief that I¡¯m nothing but a socialite and a failed fashion designer.


    I push back from the desk in my home office and look around at my mood boards, at the rack of samples in the corner. Above my desk is a framed quote. Work in silence, let sess be your noise. The next time Iunch a brand, it will be quietly. It won¡¯t have my name on it. And it will be a sess.


    I run a hand over the smooth silk of a slip skirt. Solutions for everyday women, that¡¯s my concept. Making the clothes you already own look good-no need to buy more. Extensions for bra straps. No-line panties. Beautiful T-shirt bras and shapewear and sneaker socks. Everything for the modern woman¡¯s closet, avable to order online, in beautiful packaging. Well, it will be avable, once it¡¯sunched.


    But it¡¯ll have to wait a little while longer-long enough that I can show both my brother and Nick that I¡¯ve still got it.


    There¡¯s something about confronting a man you know dislikes you. It¡¯s reckless power and churning nerves and fire in my stomach. It¡¯s made worse still, somehow, when it¡¯s a man you once harbored a stupid crush on. That crush is long gone by now-driven away by his consistent harshness and dismissal. Whittled away byments about my status as a trophy invite and inveterate shopaholic.


    But I¡¯ve never been one to back down, and when ites to Nichs Park, it¡¯s not even an option. That would mean surrender, and surrender means defeat, because that¡¯s the onlynguage a man like him understands.


    So I show up bright and early the next day at his office. Located in a mid-rise in downtown Seattle, it¡¯s nothing like the shiny skyscrapers my brother prefers.


    A simple sign by the front door, so small you¡¯d miss it if you didn¡¯t know you were looking for it.


    Park Incorporated.


    I¡¯ve dressed for the part, my clothing my armor. My hair is glossy and blonde down my back and the belt of my trench coat is double-knotted around my waist. One fashion consultant at your service, Nick.


    I¡¯m greeted instead by a no-bullshit woman in her mid-forties. A faint frown mars her features.


    ¡°You¡¯re ir Porter,¡± she points out.


    It¡¯s not a question, but I nod regardless. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Gina Davies, hello. Mr. Park told me to expect you. Let¡¯s get you set up and briefed. I¡¯m told you have a background in fashion and business?¡±


    ¡°I do, yes. A bachelor on the subject and two internships, not to mention personal business experience.¡± I meet her unflinching gaze. If she¡¯s aware of the fiasco of my former fashion brand, I can¡¯t tell.


    ¡°Excellent. Here¡¯s your desk. I expect you¡¯ll be visiting different stores or working while traveling, but while you¡¯re here, this is yours.¡± She pushes a thick file over to me and aptop bag. ¡°Here is all the information you¡¯ll need on B. C. Adams. Mr. Park will brief you himself this afternoon, but for now, get acquainted with the firm.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m already fairly well acquainted,¡± I say, sinking down in the seat. ¡°I used to be a regr customer.¡±


    It¡¯s meant as a lightheartedment, but Gina seems to take it seriously. ¡°Then maybe you can see why they¡¯ve been failing to attract customers for thest decade. We need to turn that around if we¡¯re to get rid of the inventory and assess their production value.¡±


    I give a nod and open the binder carefully. ¡°And Nick will see me this afternoon?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Park will, yes.¡± She pushes away from the desk. ¡°I¡¯ll let you get settled in. Tomorrow we visit the closest store.¡±Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    And that¡¯s all the introduction I get.


    But as I dive deeper into the documents I¡¯ve been given, it¡¯s not hard to see the structural ws of the business. Their retail model is dated; no online store, no shipping. The clothes they¡¯re selling are of good quality, and they¡¯re preppy, but they¡¯re in. There¡¯s no clear branding. There¡¯s no logo.


    No wonder they¡¯re struggling.


    I¡¯m so deep into research that I barely hear the knock on the door. It¡¯s Miles, Nick¡¯s assistant-I recognize the cial voice immediately.


    ¡°Mr. Park will see you now.¡±


    I push away from the desk and deliberate for a moment over whether to bring the binder. Miles sees me considering and gives a faint sigh.


    ¡°Bring it,¡± he says, turning on his heel and striding down the corridor without checking if I¡¯m following.


    Okay then. Nick¡¯spany probably doesn¡¯t score highly on the ¡°employee satisfaction¡± index, but then again, I hadn¡¯t expected it to with him as the founder.


    His office is on the other side of theplex. For a moment, I amuse myself by imagining him instructing Gina in the cement of my desk. I don¡¯t care where she is, but make sure she is as many feet away from me as possible. Yes, I want you to measure it.


    Miles stops outside a closed door and presses down on the button of an inte. ¡°Miss Porter is here for you.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 7

    ¡°Send her in.¡±


    I grin at Miles, hoping to draw out some form of response from him. All the employees here can¡¯t be ice-men. ¡°Thanks for escorting me here,¡± I say brightly.


    He gives me a narrowed nce, as if he can¡¯t quite figure out my game, and pushes the door open. Oh well. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll wear him down eventually.


    Nick is standing by a window, his back to me. The only one I¡¯ve never managed to wear down with my charm. The door closes behind me. Locked in with the beast.


    ¡°Lovely office you have here,¡± I say. ¡°The mood seems to be somewhere between a ughterhouse and a prison. I can¡¯t decide which I¡¯m leaning toward more.¡±


    Nick doesn¡¯t turn. Dressed in ck suit pants and a dark shirt, sans jacket, he looks¡­ impressive. I know he¡¯s trying to rattle me by not speaking-by not looking at me.


    I hate that it¡¯s working.


    ¡°Cole told me it was your idea to hire me. I¡¯m guessing that was somewhat of a white lie, but I¡¯ll go along with it if it¡¯ll make your life easier.¡±


    Nick shrugs, his wide shoulders rising and falling once. ¡°Believe what you like,¡± he says, ¡°as long as you¡¯ll do the job I¡¯ve hired you for.¡±


    At that, my hackles rise. Have I ever suggested otherwise?


    ¡°So far, all I know is that it involves evaluating B. C. Adams as a business.¡± I take a seat opposite his desk, ignoring the fact that he¡¯s also ignoring me. ¡°I¡¯ve been given a file about their financial information. That¡¯s all I know. Care to fill me in?¡±


    Nick turns to look at me. There¡¯s still nothing in those dark eyes of his-he¡¯s capable of looking so cold, so still, like someone carved him from marble with too rough a hand. I sit still under the hawk-like gaze.


    ¡°And?¡± he says. ¡°Do you think you can do it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I pour more confidence into the word than I feel. ¡°But I want you to tell me the truth aboutst weekend.¡±


    Impossibly, he grows even more still. ¡°Last weekend?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Adams? B. C. Adams? I¡¯m not an idiot. That was why you were there. You used my presence and my name for this deal.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    Nick strides to his desk, pulling out his chair with one smooth motion. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And that means I helped you close this deal.¡±


    He snorts. He actually snorts. ¡°Not in the least. It was basically signed and sealed before.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying you yed cornholes with me voluntarily?¡±


    His eyes narrow. ¡°Fine. You¡¯re right on both counts. They had doubts, and seeing me as a person with friends, especially famous and well-liked friends, helped. Does that change the current situation in any way?¡±


    ¡°Not in the least,¡± I say brightly, ¡°but I very much wanted to hear you say it.¡± I look away from the fire in his eyes to the binder in front of me. ¡°Now, will you brief me on this job?¡±


    Complete silence again. Nick is staring at me with clear frustration on his features. It¡¯s like he can¡¯t believe I¡¯m really here.


    That makes two of us.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to say yes,¡± he mutters.


    ¡°Yes, well, I surprised myself as well. Nowe on. Exin this process to me. What exactly have I been hired to do?¡±


    Nick leans back in his chair. In this office, in his suit, everything about him speaks of boardrooms and spreadsheets and ruthless endurance. I¡¯ve heard of this side of him before, but I¡¯ve never seen it in action.


    ¡°They¡¯re deep in the red,¡± he says. ¡°Bleeding cash. Without our added liquidity, B. C. Adams would have gone bankrupt within the month.¡±


    My mind reels at the words.


    And he boughtpanies on the brink like this regrly? ¡°Sounds like you should get your money back,¡± I say. ¡°Did you keep the receipt?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t smile, but I didn¡¯t really expect him to. ¡°We¡¯re sitting on a hell of a lot of inventory,¡± he says. ¡°They have two hundred and fifty stores across the country.¡±


    ¡°Two hundred and fifty-three,¡± I say.


    He narrows his eyes at me again. ¡°Two hundred and fifty-three,¡± he concedes. ¡°Gina has been calling store managers all morning. We¡¯re closing fifty of the least profitable locations immediately. They¡¯re setting up out-of-business sales as we speak.¡±


    My stomach drops. Fifty stores closed in a day, and all because he made the decision. How many employees had just been notified that they were redundant? How many families devastated?


    Perhaps he sees these thoughts on my face, because Nick leans forward, a sudden re of dark relish in his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s only the beginning, ir. Who knows how many stores we¡¯ll have to close before this is all said and done? I bought it to profit, not to save. Either I¡¯ll right the ship or I¡¯ll sell it off, piece by piece.¡±


    He wants to shock me.


    He wants me to say that I can¡¯t do it and walk out of this office with my tail between my legs. It¡¯s there in his eyes, the challenge.


    ¡°Set up an online store,¡± I say. ¡°Immediately. The fact that they don¡¯t already have online shopping is beyond me.¡±


    A shadow of annoyance crosses his face. ¡°We¡¯re trying to. Their stock is spread out between twenty different warehouses across the country.¡±


    ¡°Inefficient,¡± I say.


    ¡°Very,¡± he says, looking more sullen about the fact that we¡¯re agreeing than the actual fact itself. ¡°You¡¯ll work with Gina. She¡¯s running point on this. You can advise her on the retail side of the business. What inventory is seble? What is unusable? Any ideas you have, she¡¯ll want to hear.¡±


    Despite the frown on his face-despite the fact that we¡¯re like vultures picking at a dying hundred-year-old American business-excitement unfurls inside me. My hands itch to sort through their inventory and their products.


    ¡°We¡¯re not selling to women like you.¡± Nick holds up a warning finger. ¡°This shop sells to the average woman. To¡­ to housewives and teenagers.¡±


    ¡°B. C. Adams does not sell to teenagers,¡± I say tartly. ¡°Which is why they¡¯re going out of business. And as for the target demographic, I¡¯m perfectly capable of separating my own preferences from the market in general.¡±


    ¡°See that you do.¡± Nick¡¯s eyes gleam in the dim lighting of his office. I meet the challenge in his gaze squarely, ignoring the sudden racing of my heart. Perhaps my old crush isn¡¯t quite so dead and buried as I¡¯d thought.


    His next words are reluctant. ¡°Wee to the team, then.¡±


    Gina turns out to be no-nonsense personified. She works like a robot and very nearly talks like one, too. It¡¯sforting-she doesn¡¯t openly doubt my capabilities but neither does she reassure.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± she says as the cab pulls up outside of the B. C. Adams store in downtown Seattle. It looks like they all do-a familiar sign and a familiaryout. It¡¯s been many years since I¡¯d stepped foot in one. Despite myself, Nick¡¯s voicees back to me. The target market isn¡¯t you.


    Could I really do this?


    ¡°Are youing?¡± Gina waits by the automatic doors. I join her. Awaiting us is a store inplete disarray. A simple nce reveals apleteck of thought to theyout of clothing racks, no artful disy of clothing ensembles on mannequins. There¡¯s not a single customer in the entire store.

 Billion Dollar Beast 8

    ¡°Well,¡± Gina says beside me. ¡°This is going to take a bit of work?¡±


    I feel likeughing at the understatement. Is that why Nick hired me? Because he expected me to give up, or worse still, fail spectacrly? Would that give him satisfaction?


    ¡°Unfortunately, yes,¡± I say. ¡°So let¡¯s dive right in.¡±


    For theing hour, we make a list of everything we need to change. My hands fly across my phone as I take notes. Re-organize sale section. Push inventory that skews younger to the front. Create a new marketing campaign. Shown around the back by a friendly employee, Gina and I make a survey of all the inventory.


    And it¡¯s a lot.


    ¡°Why did they stock four hundred and fifty orange T-shirts? There¡¯s no logo on it. It¡¯s quite literally just an orange T-shirt for grown women.¡±


    For the first time since meeting her, Gina¡¯s eyes crinkle in amusement. But her tone is professional. ¡°Some women probably like it.¡±


    ¡°Some probably do,¡± I concede, ¡°and more power to them. But ordering this huge quantity of them is crazy.¡±


    ¡°If they¡¯d been good at business we wouldn¡¯t be here,¡± she says, heading into the next aisle. And so it continues. Byte afternoon, my head is spinning with all the ideas we¡¯ve discussed for restructuring the store.


    My mind runs further ahead still-to aplete revamp of the entire brand. Commissioning a new logo and a new marketing profile entirely. I¡¯ll have to talk to Nick about how much money he¡¯s willing to put into this project. One thing is for sure, however. It¡¯ll cost money to make money with this store.


    Gina and I don¡¯t leave until the store closes. My phone is filled to the brim with pictures of racks and clothing and inventory.


    ¡°We¡¯ll create a set of guidelines for changes tomorrow,¡± Gina says, ¡°and then we¡¯ll present it to Mr. Park.¡±


    I nod, hoping my voice sounds more confident than I feel. ¡°Sounds great.¡±


    The cab ride to my brother¡¯s new house is one of deep contemtion. My hands y with the belt of my trench coat, thinking of tomorrow. Of standing in front of Nick and presenting my ideas. Of his dark eyes, which have never looked at me with anything but disapproval or indifference.


    It doesn¡¯t matter, I tell myself. I¡¯m doing this to prove something to him, yes, but mostly to myself and to my brother. That I¡¯m not a quitter. That I¡¯m more than my failed clothing line. That I¡¯m not just the glorified socialite Nick thinks I am.


    The cab drops me off outside of the giant wrought-iron gate to Cole and Skye¡¯s house in Greenwood Hills. I type in the passcode and head up the driveway, walking along a carefullyndscaped path. Seeing the giant house now, it strikes me again just how much my brother¡¯s life has changedpared to only two years ago. An inveterate bachelor since his disastrous break-up, he¡¯d shown no permanent interest in women until Skye.


    Now he has a house and a wife. He¡¯s home in time for dinner in the evenings, not ving away at a desk. I might tease him that she¡¯spletely tamed him, but truth be told, I¡¯m more grateful to Skye than I could ever say for granting my brother happiness.


    I ring the doorbell and try the handle simultaneously. It swings open. ¡°It¡¯s just me!¡± I call, sinking down into one of the chairs artfully ced in the hallway.


    ¡°I can see that.¡± The voice is deep and gravelly and not at all what I expected. Nick stands by the staircase, arching a dark eyebrow as he sees me struggling out of my thigh-high boots. I¡¯d put them on impulsively this morning, but after a whole day on my feet, they¡¯ve betrayed me. My feet are killing me. ¡°Do you always get undressed in your brother¡¯s hallway?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just taking off my shoes,¡± I say tersely. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here, boss.¡±


    Nick snorts. He¡¯s as aware as I am that the epitaph is not meant in a positive way. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here, either,¡± he says. ¡°Would have skipped on dinner if I had.¡±


    The silence between us stretches on. I work the zipper down on my right boot but can¡¯t quite get it over my heel. My feet have probably swollen in the damnable things too, for all my luck, and I¡¯m stuck here in front of the most intimidating man I know with my boots around my ankles.


    He watches, relentless. ¡°Struggling?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine.¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    I tug so hard that my knuckles whiten but the boot barely moves an inch. The damn thing is glued to my leg. I try wiggling the heel, but it won¡¯t budge.


    ¡°Fucking hell, just ask for help.¡± Large, swarthy hands are on my ankle the next moment. Nick grips the bottom of my shoe with surprising gentleness and tugs and it slips right off.


    He holds out his hands for my other leg and I lift it up, barely breathing as he undoes the zipper from knee to ankle. He yanks it off smoothly.


    Embarrassment and an odd, tingly excitement are at war inside me. No doubt this is another strike in his ir-isn¡¯t-capable column, or perhaps his I-only-see-ir-as-Cole¡¯s-little-sister notebook.


    He takes a step back and looks at my stockinged feet like they hold all the answers. I open my mouth to say thank you, but the arrival of my sister-inw disrupts the moment.


    Skye is beaming. ¡°You¡¯re both here! Nick, have you been waiting for long?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± he says smoothly. For all my problems with him, I¡¯ve never seen him be anything but unfailingly polite to my brother¡¯s wife.


    Probably because he knows he¡¯d be thrown on his ass if he ever slipped. Not that he¡¯s ever had such qualms with me.


    Cole has his back to us, mixing drinks from the bar cart in the living room. He doesn¡¯t need to ask what we like.


    Nick and I stand awkwardly side by side, waiting to be served our brandy and martini. Why have we both been invited to dinner? It¡¯s been months and months since thest time this happened.


    ¡°We¡¯ve ordered in,¡± Cole says. Skye shoots us a guilty look at that, but my brother just grins. ¡°There was no time to cook. Besides, they cook better than we ever could.¡±


    ¡°Taki¡¯s?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Farang,¡± Cole says. ¡°But good thinking with Taki. That¡¯ll be next time.¡±


    Skye takes a seat on one of the low couches and gestures for me to join her. ¡°You two have started working together now, right? Tell us everything.¡±


    Oh no.


    Is this why Nick and I have been invited? To report on our progress? I see the same pained realization in Nick¡¯s eyes, but he takes a sip of his whiskey, clearly leaving the answering to me.


    ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± I hedge. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s only been two days. I spent this one deep in the storage room of one of his stores, trying to sort through their inventory.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Cole asks, now sprawled in one of the armchairs. ¡°Can they be turned around?¡±


    My brother is asking, but Nick is the one observing me over the rim of his ss. Whatever I say will bemented upon tomorrow, no doubt.


    ¡°I think so,¡± I say carefully, ¡°but it¡¯s too early to tell. I think it¡¯ll be an expensive endeavor, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    My eyes flit to Nick¡¯s without my consent. They¡¯re narrowed, but with what emotion I can¡¯t tell. ¡°Well, truly revamping their brand might include a new marketing campaign, new models, a new logo¡­ I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll talk about it more tomorrow.¡±


    Nick still hasn¡¯t acknowledged my words. He¡¯s just looking at me, and not knowing if it¡¯s in disapproval or interest makes me want to crawl out of my skin.


    Cole snorts, turning to Nick. ¡°Good thing you bought it when you did, man. Given another month, the Adams would have driven it into the ground.¡±


    ¡°Most likely,¡± he responds. ¡°But they¡¯re also going around and giving interviews to any journalist who¡¯ll listen with their sob story.¡±


    ¡°I saw that,¡± Skye adds. ¡°What did the Wall Street Journal call it? ¡®The American Gem¡¯?¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 9

    Nick nods, his lip curling in dark pleasure. ¡°¡®The American Gem falls prey to vultures,¡¯ was the headline.¡±


    I wonder what it must be like to carry around the weight of his reputation. To see yourself disparaged in a national newspaper like that, over and over again¡­


    A phone rings from an adjoining room and Skye shoots up. ¡°That must be the food.¡±


    My brother rises smoothly to his feet. Towering over Skye, he puts a hand on her lower back. ¡°I¡¯ll help you carry.¡±


    And so Nick and I are again alone. I take a sip of the martini and look over at the firece. A framed picture of Cole and Skye on their wedding day hangs above it. The narcissists, I think, but not without fondness.


    ¡°An expensive endeavor, huh?¡±


    My gaze flies back to Nick¡¯s. He¡¯s staring at me with a furrow between his brows. ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s impossible to make it profitable, but it¡¯ll need a revamp.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s your professional opinion.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say slowly. ¡°What else would it be?¡±


    He nces past me, out toward theke beyond and the glittering of houses that line it. ¡°Why did you really ept this job?¡±


    ¡°Because you thought I wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    Nick actually smiles at that. It¡¯s not a smile of true happiness, and it¡¯s a nted, crooked thing, but it¡¯s a smile nheless. ¡°I was counting on the fact that you wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So I guessed. What, you didn¡¯t think I¡¯d let you win just like that, did you?¡±


    ¡°A man can hope,¡± he says. ¡°So what? You epted, and now you¡¯re going to deliberately sabotage my business? An expensive endeavor,¡± he snorts.


    Whatever wry amusement I¡¯d felt flees. I put my ss down so hard I fear it might shatter. ¡°You honestly think I¡¯d do that?¡±


    ¡°Just to spite me? Sure.¡±


    I re at him and will him to drop dead from the impact. But he doesn¡¯t, staring back at me like I¡¯m his worst nightmare.


    As if he wasn¡¯t mine first.


    ¡°Don¡¯t turn this around,¡± I hiss. ¡°I know you¡¯re hoping I¡¯ll fail, so you can go on believing I¡¯m nothing but Cole¡¯s screw-up sister. Well, I won¡¯t. I refuse to.¡±


    ¡°Hoping you¡¯ll fail? I have millions of dors on the line here. Don¡¯t tter yourself, ir.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I seldom do where you¡¯re concerned.¡± I wrap my arms around my chest. ¡°We don¡¯t need to like each other.¡±


    ¡°Thank God,¡± he mutters.


    I pretend like the barb doesn¡¯t hurt. ¡°What we do need to do is work together. And be civil, for their sake.¡± I nod toward the door where Cole and Skye had disappeared. ¡°Think you can do that, vulture?¡±ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    If he¡¯s offended by my use of his media epitaph, he doesn¡¯t show it. He extends a hand instead.


    Once before I¡¯ve shaken that hand. I still remember what it felt like-the faint scarring on the inside of his palm that¡¯s intrigued me ever since.


    I close my fingers around his. They nearly disappear in his firm grip. He shakes my hand twice, eyes boring into mine the entire time.


    ¡°Prove me wrong,¡± he says. ¡°Help me make this business a sess and I¡¯ll be civil.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I grind out. ¡°To civility and profit.¡±


    ¡°Civility and profit.¡±


    We nod to each other like we¡¯ve signed an historic peace ord. In a way, we have. Never before have we openly acknowledged our dislike of each other. To have it stated so baldly makes something in me wither.


    Apparently, there¡¯s a difference between knowing and knowing. I want to ask him why we never became friends in the first ce. But the fierce look on his face keeps any such questions from surfacing. No doubt he¡¯d bite my head off for it.


    The door swings open and Cole steps through with two full bags. The scent of curry and spice wafts through the air. Despite my anger, my mouth waters.


    His eyes flit between Nick and me. My brother is no idiot-he can feel the icy temperature in the room. He steps past us and into the dining room instead.


    ¡°Come along, children,¡± he says in a tired voice. ¡°If you¡¯ll stop bickering for just another hour, we¡¯ll let you out of here soon enough.¡±


    I don¡¯t know if Nick feels chastened, but I do. I¡¯m on my best behavior all through dinner. Not surprisingly, that meansrgely ignoring Nick¡¯s presence.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to Whistler the weekend after next,¡± Cole says. ¡°There¡¯s more than enough room for both of you.¡±


    ¡°In separate wings?¡± I quip.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Nick says, ¡°but-¡±


    ¡°Oh, please, both of you, don¡¯t say no right away,¡± Skye interjects. ¡°There¡¯s space aplenty, not to mention a hot tub. We can y charades. Or,¡± she adds, probably seeing the look in Nick¡¯s eyes, ¡°we can spend the days skiing and the evenings quietly reading books and not talking at all.¡±


    Cole shakes his head at her rambling, but his smile is good-natured. He looks at us both. ¡°I¡¯d very much like you both toe,¡± he says simply.


    His words are enough to make my insides knot. I want to go. I want to spend time with them. I want to y charades and eat s¡¯mores and doze by the fire.


    Skye puts a hand on mine. Her eyes, so familiar and dear to me now, sparkle with mischief. ¡°And you can bring the cute guy you¡¯re dating. Andr¨¦, right?¡±


    I open my mouth to tell her that it¡¯s over-I¡¯d broken that off nearly a month ago-but another voice speaks first.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Nick states. ¡°Thank you for inviting me.¡±


    I look at him across the table. There had been no hiding the strength of purpose in his voice. ¡°Lovely,¡± Skye says. ¡°We¡¯re happy to have you. The ce is gorgeous, really.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it is.¡± He nces over at me, as if he¡¯s daring me to ept.


    I grit my teeth. ¡°I¡¯lle too,¡± I say sweetly. ¡°I can¡¯t wait.¡±


    ¡°Me neither.¡± Nick punctuates his words by attacking his food a bit too strongly. Cole notices-damn my brother for never once being perceptive except right now. I don¡¯t want to be cross-examinedter about our weird dynamic.


    ¡°So,¡± I say brightly, reaching for the giant bowl of rice, ¡°what¡¯s with all the food? Did you order enough to feed an army?¡±


    Cole nods. ¡°The fifth infantry division will be here in half an hour.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 10

    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Skye says. ¡°We couldn¡¯t decide between dishes. And maybe¡­¡± She trails off, her eyes flitting to my brother¡¯s, and the instantmunication that passes between them makes me feel like an imposter.


    A quick nce at Nick tells me he feels the same way. They¡¯re wrapped up in a two-ness and domestic bliss that we¡¯re nothing but spectators to. For my sake, it makes me envious.


    I¡¯m sure Nick thinks it¡¯s ridiculous.


    ¡°Well, we didn¡¯t just ask you both here tonight to torture you,¡± Cole says. ¡°We do have something to tell you.¡±


    My throat closes. His words have sent my mind racing ahead, drawing conclusions, guessing. Cole¡¯s smile widens when he sees the hint of emotion in my eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ve bought another chalet?¡± Nick asks, and I hear his voice through some sort of fog. No, you stupid man.


    Coleughs. ¡°Not quite. Almost, though.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re our closest friends and family,¡± Skye adds, ¡°and we feel like we have to share it with you. But no telling anyone else, okay? Not even your mother, ir. Cole will tell her this weekend.¡±


    I¡¯m nodding like a crazy person. ¡°Of course, of course, I won¡¯t say a word.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Nick asks, a surprising trace of concern in his voice. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pregnant,¡± Skye says. ¡°It¡¯s early still, but¡­ we should be parents seven months from now.¡±


    My gaze bes hazy with tears. I¡¯m so happy for them, and I tell them that, going around the table to wrap my arms around them both. I don¡¯t know who to hug first and we end up in a sort of half-embrace, Skyeughing and me crying.


    ¡°I¡¯m so happy for you,¡± I say, perhaps once, perhaps twice. Perhaps a hundred times.


    Cole finally pries me off his poor wife, now with tears of her own in her eyes, and hugs me tightly. I can¡¯t remember thest time we¡¯ve hugged like this. ¡°You¡¯re going to be a dad,¡± I whisper in his ear.


    ¡°I know,¡± he whispers back. ¡°Think I¡¯ll do a good job?¡±


    ¡°Oh, the best.¡± The thought of him as a father brings a fresh bout of tears to my eyes. ¡°And I¡¯ll be an aunt.¡±


    Through my film of tears, I catch sight of Nick. He¡¯s standing to the side and watching the scene with an indecipherable emotion on his face. He gives Skye a quick hug. ¡°Congrattions,¡± he says.


    I blink away my tears to see him more clearly. Is he moved, too?


    Cole releases me with a grin. ¡°You know what this means, right?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to ask you two to be godparents, when the dayes. You have seven months to prepare.¡±


    And then I¡¯m hugging them again and my tears won¡¯t stop and I promise to be the best aunt and godparent ever. Skyeughs when she hugs me and asks me toe with her to buy baby clothes. As if you could keep me away, I say.


    Nick looks¡­ well, the only word I can use is shell-shocked. Cole pulls him in for a half-hug, their shoulders touching, and speaks. I can¡¯t hear it-but Nick gives a sharp nod. He¡¯s my brother¡¯s best friend. Of course he¡¯d be asked. Even my anger at him melts away in the face of that.


    Nick¡¯s shocked expression stays with me for the rest of the evening, even when we¡¯re sent off in the same car. Cole¡¯s driver greets us from the front seat as he pulls out from the driveway.


    Nick is a quiet, dark shadow beside me.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I murmur, more to myself than to him. ¡°Wow.¡±


    He seems to agree. ¡°Another project we¡¯re stuck on together.¡±


    There¡¯s no malice in his voice, and Iugh, despite myself. I¡¯m still hurt by his belief that I wanted to sabotage hispany, but that feels small and petty inparison.


    ¡°I have a feeling I¡¯ll enjoy this one more,¡± I say.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    ¡°Somehow, I was thinking quite the opposite,¡± he says quietly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should take that as apliment or be concerned for the child.¡±


    Nick doesn¡¯t respond. He looks down at the heavy watch on his wrist instead before leaning forward toward Charles. ¡°Drop Miss Porter off first,¡± he instructs.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    I frown at him. Is he going somewhere after? Something within me sinks when I think of how little I know of his personal life. Nothing of his rtionships-orck of them. Nothing of how he spends his time, or indeed, with whom.


    ¡°We don¡¯t talk about this tomorrow at work,¡± he tells me.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t nning to.¡±


    ¡°Good. And remember our agreement.¡±


    Civility and profit. I turn my gaze away from him and out to the Seattle lights. I have a job to do, my own business to start, and now a niece or nephew on the way. Being disliked by Nick should be at the very bottom of my concerns.


    ¡°I won¡¯t forget,¡± I vow.


    History repeats itself the very next weekend.


    I¡¯m standing with a few friends, a ss of wine in hand. This event-a yearly autumnal fundraising event-draws a giant crowd. My brother used to be a regr guest, but he and Skye bailedst minute. When I¡¯d asked him why, he¡¯dughingly said they needed to decide on a color for the nursery. At nine o¡¯clock in the evening? He¡¯d known it was an excuse, and I¡¯d known it, but he¡¯d sounded so content on the phone that I¡¯d just wished him good luck.


    My brother, a father.


    I¡¯ve spent the better part of this week thinking through what kind of aunt I want to be. I think I¡¯ve settled on fun-that¡¯s key-but still with authority. Fun but kind. Someone the kid can call, during those inevitable teenage years, when they¡¯re in trouble but too afraid to go to Cole or Skye.


    ¡°ir?¡± Maddie¡¯s voice reaches me and I force my eyes to refocus. ¡°We lost you for a while there.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry. Just a lot on my mind.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve started working on something, I¡¯ve heard.¡± John leans against the bar table with a sly light in his eyes. ¡°Will you please put us out of our misery and tell us what fantastic new project you¡¯re debuting?¡±


    ¡°An art exhibition, curated by the one, the only, ir Porter?¡± Maddie intones. ¡°Or perhaps a new Porter hotel, decorated by the fashionable ir.¡±


    The groupughs and I make myselfugh along. ¡°Good guesses, but no. I think I¡¯ll have to keep it to myself for a little while longer,¡± I say, taking a coy sip from my drink.


    ¡°Oh, put us out of our misery!¡±


    ¡°I think you should suffer a bit more,¡± I tease. In truth, I don¡¯t see the point in making it public knowledge that I¡¯m working for Nichs-ever. It¡¯ll raise questions, and I fear the convoluted logic won¡¯t make sense to anyone but myself, and possibly him.

 Billion Dollar Beast 11

    Tate raises an eyebrow. ¡°Are we finally going to see youreback as a designer, ir?¡±


    A chorus of oohs and aahs erupt amongst the group. I force a carefree smile on my face. ¡°You¡¯ll just have to wait and see.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t even tell me? For old times¡¯ sake?¡±


    I roll my eyes at him. We¡¯d been ssmates in high school, had even dated for a hot minute, but now we¡¯re nothing but polite acquaintances. ¡°For old times¡¯ sake, I believe I still owe you a p for homing. Who ditched me?¡±


    His smile widens. ¡°You¡¯re wee to cash in anytime. I was a fool.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± I say dryly, my eyes drifting from his to the mingling guests behind him. There are a lot of familiar faces here tonight. Swirling my wine in my sszily, I listen with half an ear as Maddieunches into a discussion about a friend.


    ¡°He¡¯s terribly distraught,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s his family business being butchered, you know.¡±


    ¡°Well, they sold it,¡± John says. ¡°The least they can do is watch.¡±


    ¡°Who are we talking about?¡±


    ¡°Bryce Adams,¡± Maddie replies. ¡°I think you met his father at the Spencer wedding?¡±


    Something sour burns in my throat. ¡°Yes. Yes I did. He¡¯s distraught?¡±


    ¡°Park bought B. C. Adams,¡± Tate says. ¡°Though I¡¯m sure you already know that.¡±


    They all chuckle, aware of the connection between Nick and Cole as well as the well-documented fact that Nick and I don¡¯t get along. I take a sip of my wine and ignore the flipping of my stomach.


    The cuts Nick had made in thest week were extreme. Another forty stores shed countrywide. All stock heading to one central location to make it easier for online sales. He was trying to salvage a shipwreck.


    Surely they had to see that? I wet my lips, wondering if there¡¯s anything I can say on the matter.


    ¡°And speaking of the devil¡­¡± John says, his voice trailing off.


    Maddie¡¯s voice is incredulous. ¡°He neveres to these events.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know why he¡¯s started to,¡± Tate mutters. ¡°Is fundraising a business to pige too?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just jealous,¡± John tells him. ¡°He¡¯s gotten very rich off piging. We all know your trust fund is wearing thin.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s absolutely it. I¡¯m annoyed at my own morality.¡±


    I¡¯m barely listening to their nonsense. My eyes are scanning the crowd, searching for a tall frame and closely cropped hair. For a man with a perpetual scowl and the build of a fighter.


    I find him leaning by the bar. His dark suit follows his form closely, revealing the cut of his shoulders and length of his legs. A ss of brandy dangles from his fingers. The eyes he sweeps over the gathered guests are just as impassive as usual.


    And that¡¯s when I realize I¡¯ve never really seen Nick in any environment where he belongs. He¡¯s permanently apart, uneasy, different. Is there anywhere he simply exists?


    He turns his head toward me. Our eyes meet.


    It must be twenty feet between us, but I can see his raised eyebrow as if he were standing right next to me. He inclines his head slightly, no more than an inch, but it¡¯s a greeting.


    I give a shallow nod. The past week has been excruciatingly civil. We¡¯ve rarely worked together, as I report to Gina, but the times we¡¯ve been in the same room have been like some deranged adaption of Austen. Yes, thank you. No, thank you. Yes, please, sir. I¡¯ll bear that in mind. Would you kindly?


    We haven¡¯t spoken a single word to each other that¡¯s not work-rted.


    ¡°ir?¡±


    I tear my gaze away from Nick¡¯s dark one. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Are you angrier with him than usual?¡± Maddie¡¯s voice is concerned. ¡°You looked so¡­¡±


    ¡°Distraught,¡± Tate says.


    The smile that spreads across my features is genuine this time. ¡°Not at all. I didn¡¯t mean to zone out.¡± I turn my back to Nick. The same Nick who recently admitted that he doesn¡¯t like me-who only offered me a job because he thought I¡¯d turn it down.


    Funny how ignoring someone is an active thing. I have to force myself to stop my constant awareness of him. Even when I try not to, my body knows where his is as he makes his way through the party.


    I catch him talking to a brte in a beautiful beaded dress. Her hand drifts to his arm twice-and neither time does he move away. I grip my ss of wine firmly and try to ignore my irritation.


    It¡¯s amon urrence, this. Women are attracted to him because of his money or his terrible reputation, just like Maddie had a few weeks earlier.


    He catches me when I head to the bar for a refill. Stepping neatly into my path, Nick moves more gracefully than one would imagine a man of his height and build might.


    ¡°ir.¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°Nick.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve abandoned your group of admirers.¡± His gaze flickers over my head to something in the distance before returning to me.


    ¡°Friends,¡± I correct him.


    ¡°Lackeys,¡± he continues. ¡°Posse. Leeches. Take your pick.¡±


    I shift my weight. ¡°And the woman you were talking to earlier wasn¡¯t just interested in your wealth?¡±


    ¡°Of course she was,¡± he says smoothly. ¡°And I¡¯m not the least bit deluded about it.¡±


    ¡°Neither am I.¡± But even as I say it, his words from the Spencer weddinge back to me, when he¡¯d told me I was a trophy invite.Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± he drawls. ¡°You probably know everyone in this room, right? ir Porter, invited everywhere, a friend to everyone.¡±


    The jab hits home. He¡¯s not saying it as apliment-that much is clear. ¡°Rather a friend to everyone than a friend to no one,¡± I say sweetly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised you¡¯d see it that way. Be careful, though. Your social standing is probably decreasing by the second, standing here talking to me.¡± He sounds pleased by the thought.


    I take a sip from my wine to buy myself time. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here tonight,¡± I say finally. ¡°Fundraising doesn¡¯t seem like your scene.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t.¡± His gaze flits above my head again. ¡°Your friends are staring daggers at me, especially the weaselly-looking one. It¡¯s very amusing.¡±


    I resist the urge to turn around. ¡°Ignore them.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 12

    ¡°Now, why would they do that? Have you told them anything about me?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I say truthfully. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure your reputation precedes you in this case.¡±


    His eyes narrow. ¡°Which one of them is Andr¨¦?¡±


    I have to school my features to hide my surprise. He remembered the name of thest guy I¡¯d dated? And then it hits me-Skye had mentioned himst weekend, at dinner. Invited him to the chalet, in fact.


    ¡°He couldn¡¯te tonight,¡± I say sweetly. It¡¯s not really a lie either. He couldn¡¯te, on ount of not having been invited.


    Nick shrugs. ¡°What a shame. I¡¯m sure I would have enjoyed meeting him.¡±


    He would not enjoy meeting you, I think. ¡°Really? That¡¯s an unusually nice sentiment from someone who¡¯s never nice.¡±


    ¡°Nice,¡± he snorts. ¡°As if you¡¯ve ever been nice to me.¡±


    And perhaps it¡¯s the two sses of wine I¡¯ve had, or the anger at his offhandments, but I actually blurt the next words out. ¡°You were rude to me first.¡±


    Even as I say it, I can hear how childish it sounds.


    Nick doesn¡¯t seem to mind. He takes a sip of his brandy instead, a furrow in his brow. ¡°You¡¯ll have to remind me.¡±


    ¡°The poker game,¡± I say, pushing my hair back behind an ear. ¡°I asked to join and you turned me down in front of everyone in the room.¡±


    He looks shocked, but then heughs. It¡¯s a dark thing. ¡°That? I was saving you! Those guys were absolute assholes.¡±


    ¡°As were you.¡±


    ¡°As was I,¡± he agrees. ¡°As I said-saving you. That game was nothing for you. You were what, neen? And Cole¡¯s younger sister?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d just turned twenty-one.¡± I cross my arms over my chest. If that had been his reason, there had been no reason to be rude-nor to be rude at every turn since. ¡°Motivated by altruism? I¡¯m sorry if I don¡¯t buy it.¡±


    Nick shakes his head. Not for the first time, I wonder if his nose has ever been broken. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised.¡±


    ¡°I guess civility is only for work, then.¡±


    ¡°That was our agreement, yes.¡± He tips his ss of brandy in my direction, voice dripping with condescension. ¡°Extending it to around the clock would probably be more taxing than you could manage.¡±


    Me? I¡¯m the one who¡¯s only ever wanted to be his friend. I grit my teeth. ¡°I¡¯m going on that ski trip,¡± I say fiercely.


    If he¡¯s bothered by the non-sequitur, it doesn¡¯t show. ¡°Oh, so am I,¡± he counters.


    ¡°And I¡¯m an excellent skier.¡±


    ¡°As am I.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡±


    ¡°Perfect.¡±


    We stand there ring at each other. My heart beats against my ribs, aware how much closer we¡¯re standing than when we began talking. Nick¡¯s eyes are dark mes. For the first time in years, I feel like he¡¯s looking at me and seeing me, not Cole¡¯s little sister. He might not like what he sees, but it feels like a victory regardless.


    ¡°Mr. Park!¡± A voice breaks us out of our staring contest. A portly man appears at Nick¡¯s side, a mustache hiding his nervous smile. Thomas York, head of the fundraisingmittee.


    Nick¡¯s face smooths back into schooled impassivity so quickly that I wonder if I¡¯d imagined the passionate irritation there. ¡°Mr. York.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to interrupt your, erm, discussion, but I was informed by your people that I was to find you as soon as possible. Well, here I am.¡±


    I watch in fascination as Nick nods. ¡°Thank you for making the time. Let¡¯s talk. If you¡¯ll excuse me, Miss Porter¡­¡±


    I produce my widest, most beaming smile. ¡°Of course. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. York. And Mr. Park¡­ do take care. I want you to be in perfect shape when I race you on the slopes.¡±


    Nick¡¯s eyes glitter in the dim lighting. ¡°Prepare to lose,¡± he says.


    Whistler is a sight from the air. At my request, the helicopter makes an extra round before we descend over the snowdenedndscape. Mountains stretch high around us, dark green pines barely visible beneath a nket of heavy white.


    It¡¯s one of the many sights I¡¯m determined not to take for granted. Nor is international travel. The Canadian border might only be a two-hour drive from Seattle, but I¡¯d never left the country until I was well into adulthood.


    I force my mind away from the thought. It¡¯s easy to stray too close to childhood memories, and I¡¯d rather not dwell on most of those.


    The helicopter makes a smoothnding on the helipad. Kept free from ice and snow all year round, there¡¯s no quicker way to travel. If Cole were here, no doubt he¡¯d make some quip about how it saves him time-and time is money. He¡¯s never truly appreciated this kind of thing, having grown up with money long before he made his own billions. ir, despite her sunny nature, is the same. Both of theme fromfort. That was as clear as the privilege they¡¯d been raised with.


    They disyed it often, but never deliberately. It just hung around their shoulders like a cloak and shone through in their speech. In shared childhood memories of Caribbean cruises and ski trips.


    The difference didn¡¯t feel insurmountable with Cole. It never had. But with ir? It had been a sign over her head from the first time I saw her. NOT FOR THE LIKES OF YOU. Hell, I¡¯d added to that monument myself over the years. Little roadblocks and diversions. Cues to say the thing she¡¯d least like hearing.


    And the difference between us grew until it became a mountain.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    Unbidden, my mind conjures up the image of them both when we¡¯d been told about the pregnancy. Cole was happy, in that deep, content way, and good for him.


    ir had cried. She¡¯d actually cried, happy, warm tears that she wasn¡¯t the least bit ashamed about shedding. Joy had illuminated her from within, leaving her practically glowing, as she hugged them both. She wore her emotions on her sleeve.


    It¡¯s been nearly two weeks, but the memory still hits me every now and then. Never had I seen her so happy. It wasn¡¯t a face she generally showed around me.


    No, with me she¡¯s a hissing cat. Teeth bared and hackles raised. It¡¯s predictable and safe, at least. Easier by far to face.


    A car is waiting for me by the helipad. The driver makes his way in silence up the snowy streets of Whistler, passing chalet after chalet on the mountainside. Cole and Skye should already be there, having flown up a day earlier. I suspect ir had gone with them.


    A job that¡¯s respected. A wife who adores him. A child on the way and nothing but a good life to lead. For a moment, I nearly drown in my own bitter envy of Cole. It doesn¡¯t happen often-I couldn¡¯t be the man if I tried-and it doesn¡¯tst long.


    When the car stops outside a chalet that¡¯s as much window as it is pine, my indulgence in self-pity is over. The house is nestled in a snowy hillside and entirely surrounded by firs. I take the steps in two and let the staff handle my luggage.


    Cole stands by the front door. Wearing a woolen sweater and with at least a few days of unshaved growth on his face, he looks like he¡¯s given up entirely. He¡¯s also grinning widely.


    ¡°Christ, man,¡± I say. ¡°Are you trying to be one with the mountain?¡±


    He pulls me in to p me on the shoulder. ¡°Yes. Perhaps then it¡¯ll stop seeing me as an enemy.¡±


    ¡°An enemy?¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 13

    ¡°He took a fall today!¡± Skye calls from behind him. ¡°While skiing!¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t all that bad,¡± Cole says.


    ¡°Nothing broken, I hope?¡±


    ¡°Nothing vital at least. Come on, see the ce.¡± I follow him into arge living space. White couches and sheepskin throws make way to a gigantic copper firece. The entire north-facing facade is ss, and the view is just as spectacr as I suspected. All of Whistler and the snow-covered mountains beyond.


    ¡°It¡¯s so beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± Skye is sitting on one of the couches, a thick bathrobe around her. She¡¯s cupping a mug in her hands. ¡°There¡¯s a deck, too, with a hot tub. You can head out there now, if you¡¯d like. Rx from your traveling.¡±


    The idea of some peace and quiet and hot water wins. It doesn¡¯t take long to get installed in one of the guest rooms and then I¡¯m making my way out into the cold winter air in nothing but my trunks.


    The hot tub is illuminated by underwater spotlights. Steam rises from it into the freezing air, snow melting around it.


    Only it¡¯s not empty.


    ir is sitting with her back to me. Only her shoulders and neck are visible above the water-smooth, tan skin. Her wheat-blonde hair is swept up into a messy pile on her head, tendrils hanging down her neck. They curl in the steam.


    ¡°You¡¯re back,¡± she saysnguidly. ¡°I¡¯vee up with some new names in the meantime. Before youugh, let me tell you why I genuinely think Bear could be a cool name. At least as a middle name.¡±


    I walk around the edge of the hot tub. ¡°It¡¯s a good name, if you don¡¯t care about the kid. Are you trying to get them to revoke their offer of being a godparent?¡±


    ir¡¯s eyes widen as she takes me in. For just a second, I can almost convince myself that a happy wee ising.


    But then she frowns. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear you arrive.¡±


    ¡°If you were out here the whole time, that would have been impossible, yeah.¡± I step into the hot, bubbling water. The tub isrge enough that there is plenty of distance between us, but it still feels like a bad idea. The past few weeks have put her more squarely in my path than before-sometimes by my own doing.


    It¡¯s a disaster waiting to happen.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been here the whole time,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ve been skiing today, too.¡±


    ¡°Hitting the cks?¡±


    Her eyes drift closed. Two thin ck bikini straps rise from below the water to tie around her neck. ¡°No, Cole and I skied the reds today.¡±


    ¡°Skye didn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says. There¡¯s no antagonism in her voice, no anger or frustration. She sounds like does when she¡¯s speaking to her brother or her friends. It¡¯s deceptively easy to think I¡¯m thetter. I shift in the water, not wanting to disturb her.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s pregnant, you dolt,¡± ir says. ¡°She sat out here with me earlier, but could only have her legs in the water. Apparently you can¡¯t go in the hot tub while you¡¯re pregnant, either. Did you know that?¡±


    The subject isn¡¯t overly interesting, but her voice is, warm and confidential. A small lock of blonde hair is curling at her temple.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°We googled and made a list,¡± ir continues. ¡°You can¡¯t sauna, either. Drink coffee. Eat sushi or certain kinds of cheeses. No rare meat. You shouldn¡¯t wear heels. You can¡¯t drink.¡±


    ¡°Thest one seems fairly obvious.¡±


    Her eyes glitter with amusement. ¡°Yes, well, I wanted to add it for good measure. It made the list longer. Comedic effect, you know.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You could list all the illegal drugs she can¡¯t take, either, if you want to really hammer the point home.¡± I nce past her to the snowy mountaintops above us. Cole¡¯s chalet is fairly isted-no one can see us from here. It¡¯s not gated, but there aren¡¯t exactly any close neighbors, either.


    ¡°It¡¯s enough to make me reconsider having kids,¡± she says. Her voice is jovial, but my eyes flit back to hers regardless.


    ¡°You need to find someone to have them with first,¡± I point out. ¡°Apparently Andr¨¦ couldn¡¯t make it?¡±


    She dips lower into the water until only her head and the tips of her shoulders are exposed to the cold air. ¡°No, he couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°What a pity.¡± I¡¯d wanted to get a good look at the guy.


    But ir doesn¡¯t sound the least bit sad when she says, ¡°Yes, very much so.¡±


    I rest my arms along the edges of the hot tub. The cold air bites at my skin, a sharp contrast to the warm, bubbling water below. It¡¯s the first time we¡¯ve spoken about anything other than work-rted topics since the charity event. ¡°So what have you been doing? Torturing these poor souls with never-ending rounds of charades?¡±


    Her eyes narrow into the expression I¡¯m used to. Good. ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ve barely even suggested it.¡±


    ¡°Surprising.¡± I lean my head back against the edge of the tub and nce up at the sky. The sun is starting to set, the clear sky darkening along its infinite edges.


    ¡°What did you discuss with Thomas York? At the charity event?¡±


    I resist the urge to groan. ¡°Have you ever had a thought you didn¡¯t speak out loud?¡± I ask. It¡¯s a nasty question. I don¡¯t look at her to see if the barb struck-the imagined hurt on her face is painful enough.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says tartly. ¡°I¡¯m having a lot of thoughts about you right now that I¡¯m not going to speak out loud.¡±


    Looking up at the sky where she can¡¯t see it, I let my lips curl. The hackles are raised. ¡°Restraint. How novel.¡±


    ¡°I show it every day at work,¡± she says. ¡°Even you can¡¯t tell me I¡¯ve been anything less than perfectly civil.¡±


    ¡°You have,¡± I admit. And despite myself, I¡¯d found myself missing our spats during the robot-like exchanges we¡¯d had about B. C. Adams. ir avoided me like the gue, sending all her points through Gina.


    Just like I¡¯d asked her to.


    ¡°And you can¡¯t tell me I haven¡¯t done my job, because I know I¡¯m doing it well.¡±


    Gina had expressed the same thought to me just yesterday. You said she¡¯d be untrained, sir, but so far her insights have mostly been spot-on.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± I say. ¡°I still haven¡¯t turned a profit.¡±


    ¡°You will,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that Bryce Adams is devastated, by the way.¡±


    I tip my head forward to find her staring at me. There¡¯s a flush in her cheeks, from the heat or from the cold, and a challenge in her golden-brown eyes. No one else has her coloring-wheat and honey and chocte, and not one inch of it fake.


    ¡°Have you spoken to him?¡± I ask.


    ¡°No. But our circles ovep.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 14

    Oh yes, her circle. All the people who hung around her for notoriety or for fame. Because she¡¯s often been the talk of the town-billionaire Cole Porter¡¯s little sister,test in a line of failed socialite entrepreneurs. Excellent friends indeed.


    ¡°If he¡¯s so devastated, he shouldn¡¯t have run his family¡¯s legacy into the ground,¡± I say evenly. ¡°He has only himself to me. Well, and his father. And grandfather.¡±


    ir reaches up to run a hand over the back of her neck. Rising slightly from the water, the wet expanse of her chest and the curves of her breastse into view. I force myself to look away and ignore the two ck triangles that cover them from my view. ¡°What will happen to all the employees you¡¯re terminating?¡± she asks.


    Good, I think. Keep taunting me about things like this and I¡¯ll stop noticing your beauty in no time at all. ¡°I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s not my problem.¡±


    Her eyes narrow. There¡¯s disapproval there. ¡°They were your employees up until the day they were let go.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and they were let go with the same terms and conditions that they agreed to when they were hired by B. C. Adams. Severance and all.¡± My voice drops. ¡°I¡¯m not Thomas York. I don¡¯t run a charity, ir.¡±


    ¡°I know that.¡± Her cheeks flush further-I know she hates being spoken to like I just did, with the tone of voice that implies she doesn¡¯t know any better.


    ¡°What you¡¯re really saying is that you¡¯re ufortable with the idea of working for someone like me,¡± I say.


    ¡°No. I get why you have to fire people. It¡¯s just-¡±


    ¡°Immoral? Not the first time I¡¯ve heard that.¡± I let my gaze wander from her to the giant pines that encircle us, my expression bored.


    She drops the discussion, but I don¡¯t feel the same rush of sess as usual. Keep going, a voice whispers in my head. Challenge me.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You imed to be a good skier,¡± she says instead. The tone of her voice is as cold as the nip in the air-thefortable friendliness she¡¯d shown me when I first sat down in the hot tub is gone. I did that, ruined her mood as surely as I ruin most things.


    ¡°I am,¡± I say. Like most things in life, I¡¯d started skiingte, farter than Cole and ir-their jet-setting parents had sent them off with a ski instructor before they could walk.


    ir doesn¡¯t know that. ¡°So am I,¡± she says instead. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to racing you tomorrow, then.¡±


    Ah. For some foolish reason, I¡¯d expected Cole and me to go skiing together like we used to. Taunting each other to more daring pistes. The rush of reaching the bottom before him.


    With ir¡­ I don¡¯t want her to push herself to go as fast as me. Scenarios y out in my head, of her flipping or careening and ending up with a broken limb. Her beautiful face marred in pain. Of me, exining it all to Cole.


    She mistakes my hesitation and shakes her head. ¡°Fine. Be scared, then.¡± But there¡¯s genuine confusion in her tone.


    Fuck. Whatever I do or don¡¯t do with her is wrong somehow, and I know it¡¯s my fault.


    It¡¯s always my fault.


    ¡°I¡¯m heading inside.¡± She rises from the steaming water. There¡¯s no hiding from the sight-from her body so very nearly unclothed. The ck bikini hides almost nothing.


    An expanse of dewy, honey-colored skin. A curved waist and full breasts and as she turns to climb out, long legs and a firm ass. Her body is as glorious as her face. I¡¯d suspected that, for years. Having it confirmed makes my whole body tighten.


    As if in a daze, I drag my gaze up from her taut stomach to the incredulity in her eyes as she catches me watching her. For a long moment, we just stare at each other across the steam of the hot tub.


    Then she flushes, and this time it¡¯s not from the cold.


    ¡°Well,¡± she says faintly, wrapping her towel tight around herself. And then she disappears inside, leaving me to my miserable thoughts and aching body.


    Nick had checked me out. Practically ogled, and there had been no mistaking the hunger I¡¯d seen in his gaze. It¡¯s the first time in the eight years I¡¯ve known him that I¡¯ve ever seen him look at me like a woman-like something other than Cole¡¯s spoiled little sister.


    The look re-ignited my stupid old crush. Despite his words, the harshness of them, the constantments. Do you ever have a thought you don¡¯t speak? Or once, two years ago. Don¡¯t you have another failed fashion line tounch? They¡¯d hurt, and whittled away at my want of him. I¡¯d thought it nearly gone.


    But his gaze has brought it all back.


    And more than that-I realize now that I have power where he¡¯s concerned. Not power he¡¯s willing to give up, but power all the same. A small part of him, at least, wants me.


    The thought keeps me from sleeping. Lying in the giant bed in one of the guest rooms, I stare up at the pine-wood ceiling and ignore the stag horns mounted on the opposite wall. He¡¯s in a bed in a room not far from here. What¡¯s he thinking?


    It¡¯s a stupid question. Not once have I been able to predict what Nichs Park thinks, and starting now will drive me mad. But still.


    He¡¯d looked.


    Skye and Cole are already up when I drag myself out of bed the next day. They¡¯re in the kitchen, Cole watching as Skye flips pancakes, her brown hair in a braid down her back. I watch them from the door for a moment. He¡¯s taunting her-saying she can¡¯t flip more than two in a row.


    ¡°My money¡¯s on Skye,¡± I announce.


    ¡°Ah-ha!¡± she says. ¡°Atst, someone has confidence in me.¡±


    Cole shakes his head at me, but his smile is wide. ¡°Et tu, Brute?¡±


    ¡°Especially me,¡± I confirm. ¡°Is Nick not up yet?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s already down in town, getting his gear,¡± Cole says. ¡°He said something about hitting the slopes early. Is it all right if you two ski alone this morning? I¡¯ll join Nick out on the slopester today.¡±


    ¡°Of course. That means the afternoon is ours,¡± I add to Skye. ¡°There¡¯s a ton of non-skiing activities in Whistler, you know. We could go dog-sledding.¡±


    Her eyes light up. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to do that.¡±


    ¡°Then you two should definitely do that.¡± Cole is already reaching for his phone. ¡°Let me call them and set it up. We went there when we were what, eleven and eight?¡±


    I nod. ¡°I¡¯d just seen the movie Balto. It was epic.¡±


    ¡°We should take Timmy dog-sledding when he joins us next time,¡± Skye says. ¡°He¡¯ll love it.¡±


    Cole steps away to set it up. I grin at Skye, and find her grinning right back at me. ¡°Have I told you that I¡¯m happy my brother married you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says, flipping another pancake high. Her smile is triumphant. ¡°Including during your wedding toast. But I still very much like hearing it.¡±


    ¡°Good, because I¡¯ll keep saying it.¡±


    The rest of the morning passes in a kind of lovely, vacationy haze, one that makes my muscles ache and my heart happy. Cole¡¯s chalet is staffed when he¡¯s there, and one of the drivers helps me assemble all the gear I¡¯ll need. I¡¯m ready by the time Nick returns.


    He takes a step back when he sees me waiting, leaning on my skis. We look like pr opposites-my trousers and ski jacket are sleek and white, his are form-fitting and ck. The high neck of his jacket rises up to meet the cropped fit of his dark hair.


    ¡°You¡¯re ready,¡± he says.


    I nod. ¡°Ready to race you to the end.¡± This is something I know I can do. Sunscreen on, hair braided, my body itching to hit the slopes. Cole and I used to race, too-but he has Skye now. I suppose Nick might feel the same way. Both of us discarded, forced to race against each other.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, then,¡± he says darkly.

 Billion Dollar Beast 15

    And we do.


    By the time I join Skye for our dog-sled excursion, my legs feel like they¡¯re shaking with every step. Thefortable tiredness of a day of exercise, my skin tingly with the nip in the air.


    Skye is bundled up in a giant puffy coat when I arrive. ¡°They have puppies in the kennel,¡± she tells me in an aside. ¡°Think we can visit them afterwards?¡±


    ¡°We absolutely should.¡± I wince as I climb into the sled. I¡¯d fallen once, to my massive embarrassment, but Nick hadn¡¯tmented on it-just offered me his hand to get up. I¡¯d been banking too hard. A rookie mistake, really.


    Beneath his ski mask, I hadn¡¯t been able to see his eyes at all. But I¡¯d raced him to the bottom not once, not twice, but three separate times, thest one on a ck slope. He was a damn good skier, but I¡¯d kept his pace, matching him stroke for stroke.


    Skye and I return to the chalet with more than enough time before the guys get back. The shower is practically life-restoring. Warm water over my muscles, the smell of magnolia from my shampoo, and I¡¯m a new woman when I emerge. Looking at myself in the mirror, I take my time as I put on body lotion.


    The look on Nick¡¯s face as his gaze swept me head to toe in my bikinies to mind. It makes my stomach tighten. I¡¯d seen him in his swimming trunks, too, but I¡¯d been too surprised to really see anything before he got into the tub.


    Refusing to think about why I¡¯m doing it, I slip into the best underwear I¡¯d brought with me. A nude bra edged withce, the cups nted and ttering. A pair of matching seamless panties cut high on the sides.


    Both of them are of my own design-a part of the new brand I¡¯m working on, the one nobody will know is mine until I¡¯m sure it¡¯s a sess. Finally, I pull on a silk skirt and a cashmere sweater, sticking my feet in a pair of slippers.


    By the time I make it back to the kitchen, the staff are already starting to set the table and prepare for dinner. I give them an excusing smile. ¡°Is it all right if I bake something for dessert? I just need a small, tiny corner of the kitchen ind.¡±


    I¡¯m given ample space, though all I really need is a bowl and whisk. Chatting to Kristen, the hired chef, I start making the same brownie recipe that Mom always made when we were skiing. She¡¯d sent it to me before this trip in exchange. Well, she¡¯d tried to-the picture she snapped was blurry, but I could just about make out the measurements.


    The kitchen smells amazing by the time they¡¯re in the oven. I¡¯m leaning against the counter, listening to Kristen tell me stories about other chalets she¡¯s worked at in Whistler, when the front door opens.


    Cole and Nick burst into the house like a tornado. Snow drips from their jackets, both of them grinning from ear to ear. It¡¯s the kind of smile I¡¯ve never seen on Nick before.


    ¡°Thatst fucking slope, man¡­ you had me.¡± Cole sits down on one of the low benches and starts tugging at his snow boots. Opposite him, Nick does the same, leaning against a wall.


    ¡°Only because of the final turn. One more of those and you¡¯d have won.¡± Nick unzips his jacket and it falls to the ground behind him. The ck polo-neck he¡¯s wearing underneath looks painted on him, tight against his wide chest and the curves of his shoulders.


    My brother finally gets off his own jacket. ¡°Too many almosts for my taste. Next time I¡¯ll have you.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re wee to try.¡±


    Cole stretches, his eyes finding mine. ¡°Something smells amazing. Are you making brownies, ir?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± My eyes are locked on Nick, though. The smile he¡¯d worn just prior is gone now.


    Cole stops beside me to press a quick kiss to my cheek. ¡°Good thinking. Don¡¯t forget to send Mom a picture of themter.¡±


    The suggestion would have made me smile, if I hadn¡¯t been drowning in the darkness of Nick¡¯s gaze. Am I the only one who¡¯s caught in this tension? Around me, the staff keep preparing dinner as if nothing is happening, my brother whistling as he disappears deeper into the house to find a shower of his own.


    ¡°Congrattions on your victory,¡± I tell Nick.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says quietly. ¡°Enjoyed your time with the dogs?¡±


    ¡°Immensely.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± And then his lip curls, just slightly. ¡°Look at us being civil.¡±


    ¡°I wonder how long it¡¯llst,¡± I say.


    His gaze drops to my hands, knotted in front of me on the kitchen counter. We¡¯d been good today, when all we had to do was ski. When the fire between us could be channeled into harmlesspetition.


    I open my mouth to say just that when the rm goes off. My brownies are done. I tear my gaze from his to take them out, forcing Ken, the kitchen assistant, to move. He gives me a lopsided smile when I apologize. ¡°Let me taste one of those and all is forgiven,¡± he says.


    Behind me, Nick heads to his room, taking my chance to offer a nicement with him. Watching the perfect brown squares of chocte goodness in front of me, I barely register the smell.


    ¡°Are you sure no one else wants hot cocoa?¡± Skye asks hopefully. She¡¯s standing by the kitchen counter with a mug in her hands. Beside me, Cole is sitting with his whiskey, and in the couch opposite, Nick with his brandy.


    I raise my ss of white wine. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯m good.¡±


    ¡°Seven more months of being the odd one out,¡± she deres. ¡°A small price to pay for an eternity of happiness, I suppose.¡±


    Cole snorts. ¡°Remember to remind him of that when he¡¯s throwing temper tantrums as a teenager. ¡®You were supposed to be our eternity of happiness!''¡±


    ¡°But, you know, no pressure,¡± I add.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    Skyeughs. ¡°We¡¯re screwing up this parenting thing already, and we¡¯re not even parents yet!¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯ve nowhere to go but up,¡± Cole says. ¡°Just the way I like it.¡±


    From the couch opposite ours, Nick swirls his brandy in his ss. He¡¯d been quiet most of the dinner, his attention most often on the falling snow outside of the giant windows. Now, his gaze seems locked on the roaring fire.


    The question hovers on the tip of my tongue. What are you thinking about? Anyone else, I would have simply asked. Anyone else, and I would have given them a smile and a teasing joke. But he would never wee it and I can¡¯t bring myself to ask it.


    ¡°What time is the helicopter ride tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°We leave here at nine,¡± Cole says. ¡°You¡¯re both joining, right?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I say. The tour he¡¯s booked is to a nearby cier. The helicopter willnd in the remote wilderness, a guide walking us along the ever-evolvingndscape of ice and snow. Frozen slides, miles-deep crevices and deep-blue ice caves.


    Nick nods too. ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡±


    It¡¯s not long before Cole and Skye decide to retire for the evening. We¡¯ll y charades tomorrow, Skye promises me, grabbing onest brownie.


    ¡°For the road,¡± she tells me. ¡°It¡¯s a big house, you know. I might get hungry on the way.¡±


    Nick doesn¡¯t move, and caught in indecision, I stay where I am, seated on one of therge couches with my legs folded up beneath me. The only sound in the living room is the crackling from the firece.


    I make a decision. Maybe it¡¯s a stupid one, but I¡¯m drawn in by the remoteness of his gaze, by the ridiculous confidence his ogling yesterday has given me.


    I get up to fetch the deck of cards from the dresser nearby. Nick watches me as I put it resolutely on the table between us. ¡°I think you owe me a round of poker.¡±


    Nick¡¯s eyes slide from the cards to mine. There¡¯s something burning in them, and I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s irritation or excitement or a deliciously heady mix of the two.


    ¡°You truly haven¡¯t forgotten that.¡±


    ¡°Of course I haven¡¯t.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 16

    ¡°Nor forgiven me, it seems.¡± His voice grows gruffer. ¡°I told you, I was doing you a favor.¡±


    ¡°y a game with me and I will.¡± I split the deck in two with a flourish. This, I know how to do, courtesy of my brother. I begin to shuffle with practiced moves.


    Nick watches me work in silence. ¡°We have no chips,¡± he says. ¡°No stakes at all. That¡¯s hardly poker.¡±


    ¡°We could raise them,¡± I say. ¡°Make it more¡­ interesting, if ying for my forgiveness isn¡¯t interesting enough for you.¡±


    The harsh line of his jaw works. ¡°You¡¯re not suggesting what I think you are.¡±


    ¡°Sure I am.¡±


    ¡°Strip poker?¡±


    My heart is beating wildly against my ribs, but my hands remain steady. ¡°Yes. A heads-up game, either five-card draw or Texas hold ¡¯em. Come on. You owe me one, remember?¡±


    He takes a deep sip of his brandy. Silence is heavy between us. ¡°Fine,¡± he says finally. ¡°Five-card draw.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± I shuffle the cards onest time before dealing five cards to each of us. He¡¯s wearing a pair of dark trousers and a gray sweater-two major articles of clothing, then.


    ¡°We¡¯re evenly matched,¡± Iment.


    His eyes drift over my form in one impassive sweep. Carefully controlled, with none of the heat I¡¯d seen yesterday.


    ¡°So it would seem.¡± His voice has deepened. ¡°You¡¯re wee to start the betting.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re that sure of yourself?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    I smile down at the two cards I¡¯ve flipped. Two tens. Not bad. ¡°My sweater is my ante.¡±


    ¡°So is mine.¡±


    I don¡¯t exchange any of my cards before the river is dealt. He does, however, the back of his handing into view as he reaches for another card.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see, then¡­¡± I deal out the river and we both turn our hands. I have three tens, and he has a pair.


    ¡°Whoops,¡± I drawl. ¡°Seems like I won the first round.¡±


    Nick¡¯s eyes narrow at the cards, as if he¡¯s expecting them to change. But they don¡¯t, the evidence of my victory clear between us. A log in the firece snaps loudly behind him.


    ¡°So you did,¡± he agrees darkly. Large hands reach down to grip the hem of his sweater, pulling it off. He¡¯s not wearing anything underneath. Just sun-darkened skin and a rough smattering of hair on his chest. Sculpted shoulders. A strong, taut abdomen.


    It¡¯s the body of a man who works with it, who has strength because strength matters, and none of the superficial ab muscles thates from crunches in a gym. What does he do to look like that?


    I¡¯m taking too long in responding. ¡°Good,¡± I say inanely. ¡°Your time to start.¡±


    ¡°I suppose my ante¡¯s my pants now,¡± he says. There¡¯s dark amusement in his voice. ¡°Your brother better stay in his room, or he¡¯ll kill me for this.¡±


    The master bedroom is on another floor. There¡¯s zero risk of theming out here, and the staff has all left. Even so, his words knot something inside of me.


    ¡°My ante¡¯s the same.¡± I finger the hem of my soft sweater. I¡¯m not wearing a T-shirt beneath it either-preferring the soft feel of cashmere against my skin. ¡°You¡¯re not cold over there, are you?¡±


    The gaze he shoots me is withering. ¡°Deal, ir.¡±


    ¡°So bossy.¡± I hand him the five cards needed. ¡°Perhaps you need a bit more brandy to loosen up.¡±


    He shakes his head at me, but to my surprise he does what I suggested, tossing back what¡¯s left in his ss. ¡°You¡¯ll eat your words tonight.¡±


    ¡°I will?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he growls. ¡°There was a reason I didn¡¯t let you join our poker game all those years ago.¡±


    A shiver runs down my back. He might talk a big game, and he certainly has a reputation, but I¡¯ve never felt anything but safe around Nick. Even when he¡¯s tested my patience to its very limits.


    This time, my one-pair is no match for his two-pair. ¡°Damn,¡± I say morosely, sitting back on my knees. ¡°I guess we¡¯re even now.¡±


    ¡°So we are.¡± His gaze strays from my eyes to my neck as he speaks. The butterflies in my stomach erupt into a frenzy as I make a show of pulling off my own sweater. He looked at you yesterday, I remind myself. He¡¯s not as cool as he pretends to be.


    I toss it aside and shake my hair out. It falls around my shoulders, the ends tickling along my back. ¡°Well,¡± I tease. ¡°I guess we¡¯re both ying as skins now.¡±


    He reaches for the cards. ¡°We¡¯re not evenly matched, though.¡±


    ¡°You have one more item of clothing than me.¡± He inclines his head toward me, even as his eyes stay focused on the cards in front of him.


    Ah. My bra.


    Before I let myself consider it, I reach back and undo the sp with wan hands. The straps slide off my arms and I toss it off to the side.


    ¡°There,¡± I say. ¡°Now we¡¯re even.¡±


    ¡°Fucking hell, ir.¡± I nce once and then away, my hand tightening around my cards. They bend in my grip.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let you im that I won unfairly.¡± She reaches for her cards with a level of nonchnce I can¡¯t rte to at the moment. ¡°What? Did you think I was joking when I agreed to strip poker?¡±


    The better question is, why on earth had I agreed to this?


    And at the same time¡­ seeing the expanse of her skin, honey and wheat and gold, how could I not have?


    Her nipples are just as I¡¯d imagined they¡¯d looked yesterday, after she¡¯d disappeared in that ck bikini of hers. Rosy and pink. Blonde hair hangs down her shoulders, framing a face that is lit by a teasing smile. She knows exactly what she¡¯s doing, sitting topless opposite me like this.


    It¡¯s revenge. She saw me looking yesterday, and now she¡¯s torturing me with it. Why did the damn woman insist on hating me like this?


    You¡¯d rather she hated you, my inner voice reminds me. You can¡¯t disappoint her that way.


    ¡°Your turn to start,¡± she says. The warmth of her voice has dropped an octave.


    Does she do this kind of thing often? I don¡¯t think so, not from what I¡¯ve seen of her in thest few weeks. Crying over her brother¡¯s baby news and baking us brownies and talking to staff like they¡¯re her best friends in the whole damn world.

 Billion Dollar Beast 17

    I exchange one of my cards, doing my damnedest to focus. Things are going to get very obvious if I have to take off my now too-tight pants.


    ¡°You are allowed to look at me, you know,¡± she murmurs. ¡°It¡¯s difficult to y otherwise.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± I say testily, but my eyes immediately linger at her invitation. She¡¯s gloriously beautiful in the dim lighting. Everything about her is golden, even her smile, though it¡¯s rare to see it so in mypany.


    ¡°Why isn¡¯t Andr¨¦ here?¡± I ask. ¡°I doubt he¡¯d approve.¡±


    ¡°And do I need a man¡¯s approval to sit here with you?¡± She exchanges one of her own cards before dealing out the river. I scarcely notice the cards being revealed.


    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I could ask you the same, you know. Why isn¡¯t one of your money-grabbing sidekicks here?¡±


    ¡°Sidekicks?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to call them anything degrading,¡± she says, though the frown at the edge of her lips says quite the opposite. So she¡¯s noticed the women I¡¯ve spent time with over the years then, not that she¡¯s often had the opportunity to.


    Good. I know exactly who she¡¯s dated-a string of millionaires¡¯ sons and heirs. Boys with names like Trip and Archer. Polished sons of bitches with pedigree dripping from their pores. The kind of men Cole Porter should be friends with.


    ¡°Why do you care who I¡¯d bring?¡±


    ¡°Why do you care about Andr¨¦?¡±


    I reveal my cards across the table. Somehow, I¡¯d managed to pull a flush out of my ass despite the temptation on disy, addling my concentration.


    She reveals her own lesser hand. ¡°Whoops.¡±


    And damn if I don¡¯t feel victorious when she stands up and reaches for the zipper in her skirt. She gives a light shake of her hips to wiggle out of it and her breasts bounce and holy hell I¡¯m screwed.


    The fabric falls gently to the floor around her ankles. Firelight dances across her body, covered in nothing but a pair of thin,cy panties the color of her skin. This time, I don¡¯t pretend to avert my eyes. I drink her in instead.


    There¡¯s victory in her eyes, too, when she sees my gaze. ¡°I think we¡¯ve changed the motives for this game,¡± I say thickly.


    ¡°Have we?¡±


    ¡°Clearly, this was never about forgiveness for that poker game years ago.¡± I reach for the cards and try not to focus on the length of her bare legs stretched out on the couch in front of me.


    ¡°Perhaps not,¡± she admits. ¡°Perhaps it was about something else entirely.¡±


    I deal us five cards each. She wants me to admit it, admit to the want she¡¯d seen in me yesterday-that she¡¯s no doubt seeing on my face now. But if she thinks she can break me, she¡¯s just proven how little she knows me.


    My handes down t on the table. ¡°I¡¯m not a man who ys games, ir.¡±


    ¡°Except poker,¡± she says calmly, as if she¡¯s not practically naked before me. I refuse to believe she¡¯s that unaffected. Let her see it, then-let her see what fire she¡¯s ying with.


    Looking at my cards, I have two queens. It¡¯s too good a hand for what I need to happen. Watching her make simr calctions, I exchange one of my queens for a four. When the river has beenid and we reveal our hands, she wins by quite a margin.


    ¡°I thought you were good at poker,¡± she demures.


    I rise to my feet and look down at her as I undo the belt and zipper of my pants. How easy it would be to imagine a different scenario. Her dressed just like that, but on her knees in front of me.


    Focus, man.


    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m used to less distracting opponents.¡± I push down my trousers roughly, kicking them off. The relief of more space is nothingpared to the widening of her eyes as she sees the bulge in my boxers.


    And fuck if it doesn¡¯t twitch at her gaze.


    ¡°Well,¡± she says, and then says nothing more. I allow myself a crooked smile. She might talk a big game, but in the end, she is nowhere near in control of this.


    I take a seat on the couch as if my raging hard-on is nothing more than a nuisance. ¡°Your turn to deal,¡± I say.


    She nods and reaches for the cards. Shuffling in silence, there¡¯s a flush rising on her cheeks that I¡¯d bet good money isn¡¯t from the wine or the heat of the fire.


    ¡°We¡¯re matched now,¡± she says finally.


    ¡°Indeed we are.¡± I turn up two of the cards she¡¯s dealt me. With a one-pair, winning isn¡¯t impossible. The idea of her skimming out of her panties¡­ fuck. Forcing my mind to think through the fog, I ask, ¡°do you ever think things through?¡±


    Her eyes snap to mine. ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    ¡°Really,¡± I say, pitching my tone to hurt. It¡¯s the only emotion I know I can reliably call forward. ¡°And where is this little game supposed to lead, huh?¡±


    Her exhale is shaky, but the fire burning in her eyes is fierce. My angry kitten, indeed. ¡°To victory, of course.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± I exchange one of my cards for the river and secure another nine. A triple, now. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m not winning. ¡°And after this, you¡¯ll stop holding the poker game from eight years ago over my head?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She deals the river, eyes studying the cards. Her hair falls forward. Would it feel like golden silk through my fingers?


    She reveals her three-pair of sevens. There¡¯s a smile on her lips.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    I reveal my nines. ¡°Damn,¡± I say softly. ¡°I guess you¡¯re not ying for victory at all.¡±


    ir stands, her breasts rising and falling with the depth of her sigh. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m not aiming for that kind of victory,¡± she says darkly, reaching for her panties.


    And that¡¯s when her words sink in. She¡¯d consider this a victory-me, watching her. Me, aroused by her. Her dislike is still there, coloring her words and her perception of me. This has never been about starting something-only confirming it. And letting her know I want her would be losing.


    ¡°No.¡± My order is whip-like. ¡°Those stay on.¡±


    ¡°But I lost.¡± Her fingers curl around thecy fabric on her hips, ready to tug them down. ¡°Are you saying it would be too much? Too difficult to¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ control ourselves?¡±


    I turn from her, from the softness of her skin and the curves of her body. My blood is pounding in my ears. The line between what I can have and what I want has never been this clearly marked before.


    There is no path to victory here. In her direction lies only failure. What I can offer her won¡¯t be enough. Not to mention ruining this will ruin my friendship with Cole as well. It¡¯s too high a price.


    So I say the one thing that I know she¡¯ll hate hearing, pitching my voice to nastiness. ¡°Perhaps I don¡¯t want to see any more.¡±


    The silence in her direction tells me I¡¯ve hit home, at least enough to stop the stripping. Thank God for the small mercies, I think, as I turn back and see those panties still in ce.


    But the expression on her face isn¡¯t the hurt I¡¯d expected. It¡¯s something far worse. Spection.

 Billion Dollar Beast 18

    ¡°Fine,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll keep them on. Who knew Nichs Park was a prude?¡± And then, as calmly as if she were fully dressed, she starts gathering up the cards.


    I stare at her for longer than I should, want and anger chasing one another through my veins. And despite it all, a begrudging respect. She had seen me looking yesterday and all but confirmed my attraction today.


    ¡°You won, then.¡± She shuffles them onest time before heading to the dresser to put the cards back. As she bends over, I¡¯m greeted with one of the best views of my life.


    Yeah, I need to get out of here. Right now.


    ¡°At least there¡¯s that,¡± I say, edging backwards. ¡°Good night, ir.¡±


    If she says it back, it¡¯s not something I hear. I¡¯m already halfway down the hallway to my bedroom, my hand itching to wrap itself around the steel ache she¡¯d inspired.


    ir Porter just got a whole new level of dangerous.


    The next day is a very delicious kind of torture. Forced to meet her gaze at breakfast, knowing how her breasts look beneath her soft sweater. Seeing her long legs in ski pants, knowing how soft her thighs appear. ir might have confirmed something for herself, but she had ignited the desire in me that I¡¯d managed to keep at bay for years.


    It¡¯s made worse when Colements on it. ¡°You all right, man? You¡¯ve been quiet all morning.¡±


    I hand him the gear we¡¯ll need for the cier tour and refuse to look in ir¡¯s direction, to see the humor I suspect is in her eyes at the question. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    Cole drops it, knowing when not to push, and sits beside me in the car. A friend when I¡¯ve had none, Cole is better than I deserve. The episodest night made that especially clear-what would he say if he knew I¡¯d let his sister undress in front of me?


    I banish the thought, just like I have with so many others, focusing on the tour instead. The magnificentndscapes of frozen ice are enough to make my thoughts seem insignificant inparison.


    ir seems to think the same thing. In the ice cave, she sidles up to me, her cheeks flushed by the biting cold. ¡°Look,¡± she says, pointing. ¡°Is that an ice waterfall?¡±


    ¡°Looks like it.¡± A forty-foot drop of sheer blue ice, diving straight into the cier.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it gorgeous?¡± The joy in her gold-brown eyes isn¡¯t faked, nor is the sincerity of her smile. She¡¯s radiant.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say quietly. ¡°It is.¡± And just as painfully out of my reach as it¡¯s always been, and a game of strip poker had done nothing to change that.


    It had only confirmed it.


    Leaves that have long since fallen are crusty with frost under my boots as I walk down the city street. The season is changing, and it¡¯s changing fast, bringing with it the same nip in the air that we had up in Whistler the past weekend. A few of the window disy I pass have already begun hanging their Christmas decorations.


    I tuck my scarf in more tightly around my neck and try not to dwell on the memory. Whatever happened, happened. The only thing I can do now is to be professional-to follow to the letter the agreement we¡¯d made. Civility and profit.


    Besides, what had my strip poker escapade changed, really? Nothing-except that I know for a fact Nick is attracted to me. It felt like a victory at the time, to see that he wasn¡¯t as aloof as he¡¯d always seemed. After nearly a decade of admiring him from afar, the realization had been overwhelming.


    But in the days since, it¡¯s be a hollow victory. So he¡¯s a man who responds to a half-naked woman. How rare.


    It doesn¡¯t matter if he¡¯s attracted to me-he made it clear he¡¯s not going to act on it-and he still doesn¡¯t like me. The only person he ever smiles at or shares augh with is my brother.


    I push open the door to the innocuous brick building that houses his capital venture firm. No sign, no valet, no lobby. It¡¯s exactly the kind of no-bullshit person he¡¯s always been. I¡¯m not a man who ys games, ir.


    Gina greets me by the door. Her usually calmposure seems frayed, her eyes showing relief when I show up. When has that ever been the case?


    ¡°Is everything all right?¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°Yes and no,¡± she says. ¡°I can¡¯t apany Mr. Park to the warehouse visit today. I¡¯ve just informed him about it as well.¡±


    I put my bag down on the nearby desk. ¡°Why not? What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Family emergency. Nothing bad,¡± she adds, seeing my gaze. ¡°But frustrating. I have to take care of it. It¡¯s bad timing, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you have to do,¡± I say. ¡°I can reschedule the visit for you, if you¡¯d like.¡±


    ¡°No, no rescheduling. There¡¯s not enough time as there is, and we need to implement the changes for the store. Can you go in my stead?¡±


    My world spins, but only for a moment. Gina is entrusting me with this. ¡°Absolutely. If you have the time, give me a run-down of what you¡¯d nned to do today, and I¡¯ll take it from there.¡±


    Relief shines in her otherwise professional-to-a-fault expression. She nods, her bobbed hair dipping with the movement. ¡°Let¡¯s begin, then. I¡¯ve already informed Mr. Park that you¡¯ll take my ce today.¡±


    I ignore the knotting of nerves in my stomach. ¡°Thank you. These are the binders you prepared?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they have your suggestions for logo designs and storeyouts in them. Now¡­ this is the itinerary I¡¯d drawn up.¡± She pauses, looking over at me appraisingly. ¡°I know you two are family friends. But when he¡¯s at work like this, he doesn¡¯t want to waste time. Briefing him on the nned changes should be efficient and focused.¡±


    I nod. Her tone steadies me. There are guidelines to this. Profit and civility. Twenty minutester, I¡¯m knocking on the door to Nick¡¯s office, my bag slung over my shoulder and the binders tucked under my arm.


    He opens the door himself. Towering before me, his dark eyes are guarded. ¡°Good. You¡¯re finished. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    He strides past me through the office and I hurry to catch up, cursing myself for choosing to wear booties with heels. I¡¯d dressed for a quiet day at the office, not a field trip.


    Nick holds the front door open for me and we walk side by side to the parking garage next door. I try to ignore the thrill that his nearness brings, that it always brings, especially when he¡¯s suit-d like this.


    The fact that we haven¡¯t spoken a word alone to one another since the poker game hasn¡¯t helped.


    We¡¯ve seen each other half-naked.


    That fact hangs in the air, unacknowledged and undiscussed, a steady presence. It¡¯s there when he unlocks his Land Rover without another nce at me. It hovers between us as I slide into the passenger seat.


    He pulls out into the central Seattle traffic. I¡¯ve never seen him drive, and despite the odd mood between us, my eyes stray to his hands on the wheel. The backs of his hands are wide. Knuckles broad. Tan, slightly rough skin.


    His displeasure is heavy. That makes two of us, I think. There would have been no awkwardness with Gina here. How are we to survive the one-hour drive?


    I break the quiet fifteen minutes in. He might be perfectly content with pressured silence, but I¡¯m not.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a driver,¡± I note. My brother had had one for a long time, treasuring the time it saved him-most of his texts and calls were handled from the back of a car.


    ¡°Astute observation,¡± Nick says. His tone is just the way he likes it: dismissive and mean, all rolled into one.


    I nce out the window. ¡°I was justparing it to Cole.¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a beat. ¡°I¡¯m not dependent on anyone,¡± he says. ¡°Cole is right about it being a time-saver. But you have to trust a driver.¡±


    And I don¡¯t trust anyone. He doesn¡¯t say the words, but my mind speaks them for him regardless.


    ¡°You trust a pilot to fly a ne,¡± I point out. ¡°You trusted the pilot up in Whistler on the helicopter ride.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 19

    ¡°I can¡¯t fly a ne or a helicopter myself,¡± he says. Are the words spoken through gritted teeth? I bite my lip to hide a smile.


    ¡°So you only trust people when you have no other choice.¡±


    He shakes his head. In profile, the rough cut of his jaw stands out sharply, as does the dark stubble on his cheeks and jaw. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    ¡°But correct?¡±


    ¡°Potentially.¡± In the silence that follows, his voice softens, but it¡¯s not with kindness. ¡°I trust you won¡¯t say anything about our game in Whistler.¡±


    I cross my arms. ¡°Do you think I would?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re worried about Cole, don¡¯t be. I¡¯m not in the habit of telling my brother when I get undressed with a man.¡± I pull open one of the binders at random, opening it in myp. ¡°Let¡¯s focus on the day instead. Do you know who we¡¯re going to meet?¡±


    I don¡¯t let him answer. I dive into an exnation instead, preparing him in short, concise sentences. Be Gina, I tell myself. If Nick wants to kill whatever attraction exists between us with professionalism, well, two can y that game.


    We arrive at the store with time to spare. Pulling into the backlot, he reaches for his phone. ¡°They might not like us here,¡± he warns me.


    I frown at him. I¡¯d had email contact with the head of this warehouse. She had been nothing but amodating.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°They have a hiring freeze, same as all the others,¡± he tells me. ¡°They will have been working double shifts. They know bankruptcy is looming.¡±


    A response blooms on my tongue but dies as it reaches my lips. But we¡¯re here to save the store. That might be my intent, but I know it¡¯s not Nick¡¯s, not really. The endgame for him is profit. If it¡¯s by saving the brand or by eventually selling the individual stores and supply chains to the highest bidder, it¡¯s all the same to him.


    Nick turns, as if he¡¯s read this and more in my eyes. I follow him into the warehouse with steel in my spine. If he expects me to fail, I won¡¯t. The binder Gina¡¯s prepared?


    I¡¯d written most of the content.


    Nick and I emerge nearly an hour and a halfter in tense silence. I¡¯d kept my sentences short, but civil, and straight to the point-not an extraneous word.


    He didn¡¯tment much, either, apart from a few questions here and there. We¡¯ve been civil to the point of rudeness, and as we get back into the car, the tension between us has in no way lessened.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    We¡¯re halfway to Seattle, deafening silence reigning, when the car begins to slow. I look over at Nick. Has he forgotten where the gas pedal is?


    He steers to the side and turns on the warning light of the car. ¡°Damn.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°Must have blown a tire.¡±


    I turn around to check, but there¡¯s no one behind us. The road is empty in both directions and nothing surrounds us but trees, pines standing tall and straight. I step out into the cold.


    ¡°Do you have a spare?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    I wrap my jacket tighter around myself and start inspecting the tires on my side. My mood sours even further, but I refuse to let it show in my face or in my tone. Let him be the one stuck in a constant bad mood.


    Watch me be civil.


    ¡°It¡¯s this one,¡± I call out, seeing the small rubber tear. How had I not felt it when it happened?


    ¡°Damn.¡± Nick runs a hand over his head, across the short crop of his midnight-ck hair. ¡°Stay in the car while I change it.¡±


    The order is barked. It¡¯s clearly not for my benefit-I bet he just wants me out of the way.


    ¡°I can help,¡± I offer, anything to get us moving faster. I¡¯ve never changed a tire before, nor seen anyone do it. But I have two hands and I¡¯m willing to use them.


    He speaks from the trunk of the car. ¡°Oh, I doubt that very much.¡±


    The words slice through me. I¡¯m tired of this. Hadn¡¯t we made progress this past weekend? ¡°Why are you rude to me? We agreed to civility.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t respond. The only sound I hear is that of him unfolding something in the back, pulling at stic and rubber.


    I walk around the car to face him. ¡°For me, the reason was the old poker game, and we settled that. But what¡¯s your excuse, huh?¡±


    He lifts the heavy tire effortlessly, his arms straining against the fabric of his suit. ¡°Why do I have to like you in order to work with you? Is it necessary?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. I just thought-¡±


    ¡°Thought what? That because I find you beautiful I somehow like you, too? Plenty of women are attractive.¡± The fierceness in his voice burns, humiliation creeping up my cheeks. I feel like I did all those years ago-dismissed.


    He shakes his head, as if he¡¯s disgusted by our interaction, and begins changing the tire with furious movements.


    I stare at him for a long moment.


    And then I take a seat in the passenger seat, mming the door behind me. We don¡¯t speak a word the entire way back to the city.


    My brother¡¯s house has been transformed. The event organizers have gone all out, with string lights around the wrap-around porch. The marble floor in the entry is polished to a shine and drink tables line the walls. Rooms on the second floor are locked and closed off, and below, staff filters in and out of the house in preparation.


    Skyees to stand next to me as we watch cars slowly roll up the long driveway. She¡¯s barely started to show, and in the dress she¡¯s wearing, the faint bump of her stomach is well-hidden.


    ¡°Right,¡± she says quietly. ¡°And so it begins.¡±


    ¡°Do you feel ready?¡±


    ¡°To y hostess? I¡¯ve learned a thing or two over the past year.¡± She leans against me, our shoulders touching. ¡°Your brother hosts more than his share of events.¡±


    I smile crookedly. Cole has a fine appreciation for parties like this-for theworking opportunities they present. He knows that he can extend an invitation to the right people and most woulde on the basis of his reputation alone. A smile here and a handshake there and he paves the way for future business ventures.


    In many ways, I want to be like him. It¡¯s that quiet desire that once drove me to start my own fashion brand. Watching the cars being carefully parked by the hired valets, I let my mind trace the contours of that old failure again.


    For a long time, I hadn¡¯t wanted to be seen in public. The headlines had been that scathing. Unfinished and unformed, they¡¯d called my collection. Derivative. One reviewer had written a sentence that made my heart stop. She¡¯s clearly wasting her brother¡¯s money, but then again, he has money to waste.


    I had prayed for Cole to never read that article. But it little mattered if he did-the truth had been there anyway. Not that he had ever once breathed a word of that sentiment to me.

 Billion Dollar Beast 20

    ¡°Ah,¡± Skye sighs, a sound of relief, as Cole heads toward us. Taking the porch steps in two and with his form-fitting suit, he looks every inch the rich asshole media likes to portray him as. Something in Skye rxes as my brother puts an arm around her waist.


    ¡°Are you ready,dies?¡± He¡¯d prepped us on the game n before-which individuals he most needed a word alone with.


    I paste a charming smile on my face. If there¡¯s one thing I¡¯m confident in, it¡¯s my ability to conquer a party. ¡°I¡¯m always ready to mingle.¡±


    ¡°If only it were an Olympic sport,¡± Cole teases. ¡°You¡¯d be a gold medalist.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you could make that a thing. Perhaps for my birthday?¡±


    And then it¡¯s showtime as the first guests walk up the steps. I shake hands and pad egos and wee people inside, doing my best to turn on the dazzle.


    I¡¯d really indulged in the preparations for tonight. My wrap dress is deep green, entuating my curves, and I¡¯d made sure my hair was blow-dried bouncy and smooth. In my head, I¡¯d been doing all of this for my brother-for his party, his investors, to better y my part.


    But the face I¡¯d seen in my mind¡¯s eye had been Nick¡¯s. His angry words still ring in my head, but with a day to think it over, I¡¯m not humiliated by them anymore.


    I¡¯m angry, too.


    He¡¯d be at this party, that much I¡¯m certain of, but I can¡¯t seem to spot him. I find someone else instead.


    Or more urately perhaps, someone else finds me. ¡°ir Porter,¡± a young man says warmly, leaning in for a practiced kiss on my cheek. It¡¯s a forward greeting, but I find myself smiling back at him instinctually. ¡°I¡¯m Bryce Adams. It¡¯s lovely to finally meet you-Maddie mentions you nonstop.¡±


    Then the realization pierces through. Bryce Adams, of B. C. Adams. He¡¯s here, and so is Nick. Why on earth would Cole have invited him?


    My smile doesn¡¯t falter, though my eyes dart up behind him to scan the room. ¡°Likewise-I¡¯ve heard good things. I met your father, I believe, a month back?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he told me. He was quite impressed, you know.¡± His brown hair falls yfully over his brow and he reaches up to push it back.


    ¡°How have you been?¡±


    ¡°Well, you know how things are.¡± He gives me a pained smile. ¡°I¡¯m finding myself at a loss for what to do, now that my future calling is no longer in the picture.¡±


    There¡¯s a stab of unexpected guilt in my stomach. Coming face-to-face with the man whose family legacy I¡¯m helping to dismantle¡­


    I reach out and put a hand on his arm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t begin to understand how that must feel.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says, putting a hand over mine on his arm, stopping me from pulling back. ¡°The worst is hearing how our employees are faring. All the shutdowns and firings. The people we¡¯ve let down by selling.¡±


    It twists right at the heart of my own concerns. Despite that, I can¡¯t let him disparage Nick quite like that.


    ¡°You did what you had to do,¡± I say. ¡°Just as the new owners are doing.¡±


    Bryce opens his mouth to reply but there¡¯s no sound. His blue gaze catches on something behind me instead, growing steely with resolve. Oh no.


    He brushes past me with a quiet excuse me and strides toward the one person I¡¯ve been looking for all night and haven¡¯t been able to find.


    Nick turns just in time. In the dim light and against his dark suit, his eyes look pitch-ck. There¡¯s no hint of surprise or fear on his face as he takes in Bryce, stopping before him.


    Bryce¡¯s voice vibrates with rage. ¡°You looked my grandfather in the eye and told him you¡¯d take care of his employees. That¡¯s the only reason he agreed to sell to you. And now you¡¯veid off more than two hundred of them. How do you get up in the morning?¡±


    ¡°I usually set an rm,¡± Nick replies, his voice arctic.


    ¡°That¡¯s what you have to say for yourself?¡±


    ¡°Your grandfather knew who he sold hispany to,¡± Nick says. ¡°And if he cared so much about his employees, he wouldn¡¯t have driven the business to within an inch of its life.¡± If Bryce is angry, Nick is fury itself, cold and controlled and carefully leashed.


    I¡¯m dimly aware of people watching the interaction. Of conversations hushed and eyes following. Bryce¡¯s right arm twitches. He¡¯s an inch from blows, I realize, my eyes flitting to Nick¡¯s.


    But Nick has already made the same realization. He widens his stance, growing impossibly taller. ¡°I made your family a good offer. You¡¯ll be wealthy for the rest of your life, despite your abject business failure. Consider yourself lucky.¡±


    His words drip with dismissal. Bryce nces about, his eyes incredulous. Are you hearing this?


    And people are.


    Bryce steps closer. ¡°We should never have agreed to your deal. I might not have thepany anymore, nor a vote on the board, but people still know our name. We can cause a lot of trouble for you.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead and try.¡±


    Bryce shakes his head in disgust. ¡°You can put on a suit all you like, but you¡¯re no less trash for that.¡±


    Nick¡¯s eyes sh. For a wild second, I think he might actually punch Bryce. The violent tension in the air is vored by the crowd¡¯s horrified delight.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    I take a step forward, not knowing what to do but needing to do something.


    Nick sees me. Impassivity returns to his features, the fire in his eyes gone as quick as it hade. ¡°I¡¯d suggest you ept your fate gracefully,¡± he counsels Bryce, condescension in his tone.


    And then he walks away, taking a sip of his brandy and ignoring the looks the entire room shoots his way. If they burn like arrows in his back, he doesn¡¯t show it, standing straight and proud.


    Bryce is panting like he¡¯s run a race. I step forward, cing a hand with more gentleness on his arm than I feel. The bastard must havee here uninvited with the sole intent of confronting Nick.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I tell him, guiding him out of the living room. He lets me, eyes still furious.


    ¡°Can you believe him?¡± he mutters, as if he¡¯s forgotten who he¡¯s talking to. Nick and Cole¡¯s friendship is well-documented.


    ¡°I can.¡± My voice is curt.


    No one bothers us as we make our way out through the front door. I lift a hand for one of the waiting cabs, but Bryce barely notices me, he¡¯s so lost in his own thoughts.


    ¡°Bryce, I think it¡¯s time you head out,¡± I say.


    His gaze finds mine. ¡°Yes. But-no, you¡¯re right.¡± He looks over his shoulder. ¡°This is your brother¡¯s party. I¡¯m sorry for making a scene like that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± I say, though I truly don¡¯t feel like it is. ¡°But in the future, if you have any grievances with Nick, you should take them to his office. Not in a ce like this.¡±


    Bryce¡¯s self-assured smile is back in ce. It¡¯s tinged with bashfulness, his eyes pleading on mine. ¡°You¡¯re right. Can you ever forgive me?¡±


    The nerve of the man, to flirt like this when he¡¯s just¡­ ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I say.


    He meets my serious tone with yfulness. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 21

    Behind him, my brother bursts through the door. The scowl on his face is familiar. If hees out now, he¡¯ll ruin my attempt at getting Bryce out without making more of a scene.


    I give him a quiet shake of the head and watch as he reins himself in. I know he hates every second of it.


    Bryce gets into the cab I¡¯ve hailed with a final nce at me. ¡°Goodbye, ir,¡± he tells me. There¡¯s spection in his gaze and damn it, I should have told him I work for Nick. That would have put an end to that real quick.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t invite him,¡± Cole says darkly by my side. ¡°How he got past the event nners, I have no idea.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a smooth talker.¡±


    ¡°Did you hear the argument?¡±


    I sigh. ¡°Yes. Nick took him down verbally, but everyone heard.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡± The annoyance on his facests only a few moments before it clears, and he¡¯s once again myposed big brother, ready to conquer and charm. ¡°I¡¯ll have to apologize to Nickter. If he¡¯ll even ept it, that is. Perhaps he enjoyed it.¡±


    I match his pace as we walk back through the house. Enjoyed the confrontation¡­ Somehow, I doubt that. ¡°I¡¯ll check on him,¡± I say quietly. ¡°I think you should reduce tensions in the living room. People are bound to gossip.¡±


    Cole raises his eyebrow but doesn¡¯tment. ¡°I will.¡±


    And then I¡¯m off again, trying to adopt the same breezy manner I¡¯d had before, but finding that it¡¯s slipped out of my grasp all together.


    Nick¡¯s not in any of the major party areas. He¡¯s not outside, with the smokers, or together with the crowd around the hors d¡¯oeuvres. He¡¯s nowhere at all.


    I pause with my foot on the staircase. The second story is off-limits for guests tonight. Both staff and security are on sight to help stop that. ncing around, I give one of the security guards a smile more confident than I feel. Please, Cole, tell me you put me on the OK-list¡­


    The guard gives a curt nod. I dart upstairs, and in the darkness, begin my search, checking each door.


    Bingo-he¡¯s in Cole¡¯s study.


    Standing on the balcony with his back to me, a ss of brandy dangling from his fingers, Nick doesn¡¯t turn when I enter.


    My heart is beating fast. For a wild second, I feel like I¡¯m approaching a cornered animal. An absurd image of me holding out my hands, palms up, and saying calm, boy flits through my mind.


    I clear my throat, but Nick speaks first. ¡°I wondered if you¡¯de searching for me.¡±


    From the scathing tone, it¡¯s clear that¡¯s not a good thing. I swallow again. ¡°Bryce wasn¡¯t invited. Cole doesn¡¯t know how he got in.¡±


    ¡°I pity the security he hired, then.¡± There¡¯s dark humor in Nick¡¯s tone at the thought, but when he speaks again, it¡¯s gone. ¡°So? Have youe to tell me you agree with everything Bryce said?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°No, not at all.¡±


    He turns around, dark eyes in the dimly lit room. ¡°He only said what you¡¯ve been thinking about all along, especially in regard to theyoffs.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°He was spiteful and bitter. He wasn¡¯t speaking truthfully at all.¡±


    Nick rolls his eyes. ¡°He was bitter, yes. And truthful. Come now, surely he said nothing you haven¡¯t already thought yourself.¡±


    His ck mood gives rise to my own. Whatever he¡¯s goading me to say, I won¡¯t give it to him. ¡°I made sure he left as quickly as possible. Cole is down there now, trying to stop gossip.¡±


    ¡°Toote for that,¡± he says. ¡°This will only add to my reputation. Good for business, that.¡±


    I cross my arms across my chest. ¡°I don¡¯t believe it.¡±


    ¡°Believe what?¡±


    ¡°This act. You put it on all the time-just like the other day. Why?¡±


    ¡°Oh, ir,¡± he says, but it¡¯s not in a nice way. It¡¯s in a you-know-so-little way. ¡°Why did you help me deal with Bryce?¡±


    ¡°What, is it so hard to believe I just wanted to?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re helpful, yes, but that¡¯s not why you did it.¡± He takes a step closer, a muscle working in his jaw. Almost absently, he puts down his brandy on Cole¡¯s desk. ¡°Exin yourself.¡±


    ¡°Is it impossible to believe that I disagreed with Bryce, that I¡¯m actually starting to see merit in your work?¡±


    He dismisses my words like they¡¯re obvious untruths. ¡°It¡¯s your brother¡¯s party. Of course you don¡¯t want a scene. You¡¯d do anything for him and Skye.¡±


    His words fan the mes of my irritation and they lick my insides with fire. ¡°Why are you so determined to think everyone hates you? So intent on driving them away, to live up to the very worst of your reputation? To push and push until people give up?¡±


    The fiery look on his features is new to me. There¡¯s nothing impassive about it, nothing cold or controlled. He steps closer. ¡°Why do you keep trying with me? You give me chance after chance after chance, always hoping I¡¯ll redeem myself.¡±


    I throw my hands up. ¡°I wish I knew!¡± I say. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, I get it now. You don¡¯t want anyone to care about you except Cole, so you just push them away. Well, forgive me, because I did. I overstepped your arbitrary boundaries by actually giving-¡±


    And then my words die on my lips because he¡¯s kissing them. The surprisests only a second under his warmth, and then I¡¯m kissing him too, our lips moving together.


    It¡¯s not a perfect kiss at first. It¡¯s rough and surprised and we don¡¯t quite fit and then we just do, like a key finally turning in a lock. His handse around my waist as he tugs my body tightly against his. My lips open and he takes advantage of that and I¡¯m not thinking any more, not at all.


    I¡¯m drowning in sensation. He¡¯s everywhere, from thigh to chest, rock solid and big and so much more than I¡¯d imagined. There¡¯s no way toe back unscathed from this kiss. There will be a ir before kissing Nick and a ir after kissing Nick, altered forever by this experience.


    I wrap my arms tightly around his neck. My nails rake gently through his dark hair and he groans, low in his throat. His hands tten against my low back.


    His tongue sweeps across my lower lip. Perhaps it¡¯s the brandy, or just him, but it sets fire to my mouth. I kiss him fiercely to stop the burn.


    It only makes it grow hotter.


    Somewhere far away, in some distant awareness, I register that Nick is moving us. That I¡¯m stepping backwards, but I¡¯m holding on to him and things like tripping or furniture seem inconsequential.


    His hands drift lower to my thighs and then I¡¯m lifted up, ced on some hard surface that gives me more ess to him. I revel in it, running my hands over the wide stretches of his shoulders, feeling the thrumming of life inside his powerful frame. Mine, I think fiercely.


    His hands grip my waist hard, and not once has he stopped kissing me. My legs open instinctively for him and he steps between them. Eager, I lift one up, hooking it around his hip. Nick growls against my lips at the movement.


    When he tears his lips from mine, I barely have time to protest before he¡¯s put them back again, this time on my neck. A hand gently tugging in my hair tips my head back to give him more ess. I stare unseeing up at the ceiling and hold on to his shoulders as sensations course through me. His lips against the hollow at the base of my throat spark me back into action.


    And then I¡¯m tugging at the buttons of his shirt. I need ess to his skin too-it¡¯s not fair he¡¯s so much more covered up than me.


    Nick nces down at my hands and then further down still, where his own are smoothing across my thighs. His fingers grip the green fabric of my wrap dress and toss it back impatiently, revealing the length of my bare thigh and just a hint of underwear.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur, moving to the edge of the desk, unaware of anything but him and this and us and please just touch me.

 Billion Dollar Beast 22

    Nick takes a step back. The loss of his strong arms is so sudden that I have to slide off the desk to keep from tipping over.


    The long, deep look we exchange infuriates me. How dare he look at me with so much want it¡¯s practically dripping from him and not touch me? Can¡¯t he see I¡¯m burning?


    I take a step forward but Nick backs away, reaching up to refasten the single button I¡¯d managed to undo.


    And right before my eyes, the raw need on his features dissipates, like ripples on ake. He¡¯s once more the scathing, infuriating, cold-hearted man he pretends to be. Because I¡¯m sure of that now. It¡¯s nothing but an act.


    He opens his mouth to speak but seems to think better of it. In the next moment, he¡¯s gone, striding out the door and wrenching it open.


    ¡°Nick, don¡¯t-¡±


    It¡¯s no use. He¡¯s vanished, and I¡¯m left standing in the study, my heart pounding like I¡¯ve just been sprinting t-out and still lost the race.


    The numbers bleed together on the screen. Every time I go over purchasing orders, I see Nick¡¯s eyes instead. And when I reach for fabric samples, the memory of his lips on mine threatens to overwhelm me. Nick had kissed me.


    After nearly a decade of admiring him from afar, the experience has been overwhelming. Sure, he might still think of me as Cole¡¯s spoiled little sister, or as a socialite in need of a hobby, but he also kissed me like he needed me more than he needed air-and there was no way he could deny that.


    We haven¡¯t spoken since. No, in the six days that have passed, he hasn¡¯t been around at all. Not at work, where he¡¯s either out with investors or taking meetings, and not at Cole¡¯s, where I¡¯d been invited for dinner one evening.


    He¡¯s avoiding me.


    After walking out like that without a word, he seems intent on not giving me another. I¡¯d chalked it up to Nick being Nick at first. To the words we¡¯ve spoken before-my hasty assertion that he wants to push the world away-and not the kiss itself.


    But as Thursday bes Friday, and Friday bleeds into the weekend, his silence starts to grate on my self-confidence. It had been an absolutely unreal kiss, hadn¡¯t it?


    On Saturday morning, I pack up a box of samples for my newpany and ignore the churning of nerves in my stomach. First Nick, and now this, all in the span of a week. Be brave, ir.


    The route to my brother¡¯s house in Greenwood Hills has be so familiar to me now that I could probably drive it blindfolded. Cole isn¡¯t in when I enter, but that matters little. It¡¯s his wife I¡¯m here to see.


    ¡°Skye?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m upstairs!¡± she calls, and I hurry up the steps, my bag slung over my shoulder. Filled with all my hard work and ns and hopes, it feels far heavier than its actual weight.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Over here!¡±


    I find her in the room adjoining the master, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her small stomach is really starting to show now, despite the flowy dress.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any maternity clothes,¡± she says sheepishly when she sees me looking. ¡°So I¡¯m wearing a summer dress in fall. Whoops.¡±


    ¡°We can go shopping,¡± I suggest, the idea momentarily cheering me up. ¡°There are great maternity options, you know.¡±


    Skye¡¯s eyes lighten. ¡°Do you want to y personal stylist again?¡±


    ¡°Is it that obvious?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± sheughs, reaching over to put a hand on my knee. She tugs me down to the floor beside her. ¡°But I don¡¯t mind. You know what I like.¡±


    Excitement floods to my lips before I can stop it. ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll have so much fun. I already have a ton of ideas¡­ maybe we can go tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°We have time,¡± Skye says, putting a hand over her stomach. ¡°Months of it, in fact.¡±


    ¡°Why are you in here?¡± I look around at the empty room, my hand fisting in the plush fabric of the carpet. ¡°Oh! The nursery?¡±


    She nods. ¡°I¡¯ve been sitting here looking at paint samples and ideas and trying to figure out how I want it to look.¡±


    ¡°Will you show me?¡± My niece or nephew will sleep in this room. It¡¯s easy to picture a little girl or boy with Cole and Skye¡¯s dark hair, grinning just like my brother over the bars of her crib.


    ¡°Yes, but first, will you tell me what¡¯s in your bag? Are you nning on moving in?¡±


    Iugh, but it¡¯s a bit high-pitched. Pulling my bag into the space between us, I pause with my hands on the zipper. Courage.


    ¡°So¡­ I¡¯ve been keeping a little secret.¡±


    Skye¡¯s eyes widen in mock horror. ¡°I can¡¯t help you bury a body.¡±


    Iugh, a bit of tension draining off. It¡¯s just Skye, after all. ¡°Ouch, but no, that¡¯s not what I¡¯m asking. I¡¯ve been working on something and I want your feedback.¡± With moreposure than I feel, I unzip the bag and start pulling out samples.


    One by one, Iy them out beside us. A silky slip. A nude-colored bra. Seamless underwear, all packaged in little silken bags. A pair of Spanx-like shorts. A negligee, made from the same silk mix as the slip.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Skye carefully reaches out to touch the soft material. ¡°These are gorgeous.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all my design,¡± I say. ¡°Instead of a fashion line, I¡¯ve been working on a brand that supplies undergarments and fashion¡­ solutions, I guess I¡¯d call them, like fashion tape. Everything you need to make your already existing wardrobe work better, but sold together under one brand.¡±


    Skye is lifting up the slip, looking at thece. ¡°This is gorgeous. The finishing¡­¡±


    I nod, excited now, my words spilling fast. ¡°It took me forever to find the perfect fabric, and then the right maker. I want it to be the best quality-they¡¯llst forever.¡±


    ¡°When have you had time to do this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had nothing but time until I started working for Nick,¡± I say. It¡¯s liberating to finally admit it.


    ¡°When are you going tounch?¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Not yet. I want to think this through,¡± I say. ¡°I want it tounch as a coherent brand, with a web presence, and online store, all of it.¡±


    ¡°Cole would love-¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say immediately. ¡°Cole can¡¯t know. Not yet.¡±


    Skye¡¯s face drops. ¡°ir, he¡¯d be nothing but supportive.¡±


    Guilt twists my insides. ¡°Oh, I know that, trust me. But¡­¡± And here it is, the thing I don¡¯t want to say. He would offer to invest, just like he had with my previous fashion line, which had failed so catastrophically.


    Or even worse-he wouldn¡¯t offer, and I¡¯d know that he didn¡¯t believe in me anymore. I wouldn¡¯t give him the choice until I had something working that was up and running.


    ¡°This needs to be mine,¡± I say finally, thinking of all my own money I¡¯m sinking into this. ¡°I want to prove it to myself. That I can do it on my own.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 23

    Skye nods slowly. ¡°I can understand that,¡± she says, reaching over for one of the bras. ¡°You really designed these? They¡¯re gorgeous.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. That¡¯s one of the slogans I¡¯m workshopping, actually. Making practicality pretty. The pieces I brought are all for your skin tone. Would you mind very much testing them out? Wear them sometimes in theing weeks? I need feedback.¡±


    Skye nods, a hand back on her stomach. ¡°Of course, yes. I¡¯d love to, for as long as I can.¡±


    She¡¯s the first person I¡¯ve ever told about this. It¡¯s been over a year of working from home, of ordering samples and creating websiteyouts and running the numbers, and now it¡¯s here. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say.


    Maybe she hears my sincerity, or maybe it¡¯s just the kind of person she is, but she puts her hand on mine. ¡°Anytime. We¡¯re family now, you know, Aunt.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll ever get used to that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to. God, I¡¯ll be called Mom soon.¡± Skye shakes her head in wonder at the thought. ¡°I¡¯m still in disbelief.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ll be a great one.¡± I nce over my shoulder, grateful for my brother¡¯s prolonged absence. ¡°Where¡¯s Dad-to-be today?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s trying out our new tennis court with Nick,¡± she says.


    He¡¯s here? My muscles lock in ce at the notion. So somewhere in their massive garden, Nick is sweating and swatting tennis balls and still avoiding me.


    The words slip out before I can stop them. ¡°I didn¡¯t know he¡¯d be here.¡±


    Skye¡¯s eyes re with interest. ¡°Has something happened between you two?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I lie. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ you know we don¡¯t get along. And working together has already stretched all the patience I have.¡±


    There¡¯s a furrow between Skye¡¯s eyebrows. ¡°Well, something seemed off with him. You¡¯ve known him longer, but¡­ don¡¯t you think a proper rtionship would be good for him?¡±


    I want tough and cry at the same time. I settle for a dark chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m sure it would be, were he interested in having one.¡±


    ¡°You think he¡¯s not?¡±


    ¡°Skye, he¡¯s not been in one for as long as I¡¯ve known him,¡± I say honestly. ¡°I think he likes his solitude.¡±


    After the confrontation we¡¯d had just a few days ago-in a study down the hall, no less-I didn¡¯t doubt that at all. Keeping people at arm¡¯s length is probably his method of living, as ingrained in him as the need to breathe.


    ¡°Well, no man was made to live alone,¡± Skye says decisively, rising from the floor. ¡°Do you want a cup of tea? We can look at paint samples and I can pick your brain.¡±


    d she¡¯s dropped the Nick conversation, I give her a beaming smile. ¡°As a nursery expert, I¡¯m at your service.¡±


    Skye rolls her eyes at me but leads the way back down to the kitchen. I lean against the giant ind and watch her prepare two cups. Despite myself, I keep ncing at the back door. My earlier peace and calm is shattered.


    He¡¯s here somewhere.


    She hands me a cup. ¡°Thank you,¡± I murmur, using the spoon to stir.


    ¡°So, these are the ones I¡¯m thinking about¡­¡± She pulls out a binder of colors and we study them for a long while, our heads bent together.


    We¡¯re startled by the back door opening, my brother and Nick falling in through it like they¡¯re eighteen rather than thirty. Nick doesn¡¯t keep Cole at an arm¡¯s-lengths distance, I note bitterly.


    And then he sees me.


    Nick straightens immediately. The sweat on his brow glistens, the material of the flimsy workout T-shirt clinging to his broad chest.


    Cole sees us too, but he smiles. ¡°Here to raid our fridge, Lairy?¡±


    The old nickname does nothing for my already flushed cheeks. I roll my eyes at him. ¡°That was you, years ago. My own is quite well-stocked, thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been looking at designs for the nursery,¡± Skye says. ¡°How was the new tennis court?¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Cole says. ¡°So excellent, in fact, that I won.¡±


    Nick¡¯s upper lip lifts. ¡°You had the home turf advantage. I won¡¯t go so easy next time.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    I turn my eyes away from him. If I look too long, I¡¯ll remember, and if I remember, I¡¯ll drown in the memory.


    Skye grabs her cup of tea and the binder with colors. ¡°Come on, let me show you the paint swatches ir and I decided on. The nursery is on the way to the shower anyway.¡±


    My brother pauses only for a second to nod at Nick. ¡°The guest bath is yours.¡±


    Nick inclines his head. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    And then Cole and Skye are gone, despite the fact that we hadn¡¯t decided on any paint swatches at all.


    Sly dog, I think, wondering how much Skye suspects. How much she¡¯s guessed and pieced together. Herment about Nick needing a rtionship¡­


    Nick runs a hand through his hair. For all his power and skill when he¡¯s in a suit, or the way hemands attention at a party, he¡¯s just a man now. One who¡¯s sweaty and flushed and alone here with me.


    I take a step closer. ¡°Avoiding me, are you?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡±


    ¡°Really? Not being at your own office for five days straight seems¡­ well, excessive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had out-of-office meetings. B. C. Adams isn¡¯t my only investment, you know.¡± The fire in his eyes doesn¡¯t match the cool detachment in his voice.


    I put my cup of tea down harder than nned. ¡°So you¡¯re determined to pretend as if nothing happened?¡±


    ¡°Nothing did happen, ir,¡± he says through clenched teeth. As if he can will it to be true if he says it enough times. But I¡¯m not like that.


    ¡°Coward,¡± I toss at him.


    Something clenches in his jaw. ¡°See, this is why I didn¡¯t want to have this discussion.¡±


    ¡°So you were avoiding me,¡± I say triumphantly. ¡°You know, it¡¯s not hard to say the right thing. You can take your pick. ¡®I¡¯m not interested, ir.¡¯ That¡¯s possible. Or, perhaps, ¡®I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea, what with us working together.¡¯ Do you want me to write the script for you?¡±


    He steps closer, the smell of Nick and man and faint sweat hitting me. There¡¯s not even a pretense of sophistication today-no suit or bowtie. It¡¯s all roughness.


    ¡°Does there have to be a reason?¡± he asks. ¡°Isn¡¯t it enough that it¡¯s not a good idea? That your big brother is in the same goddamn house right now and that I¡¯d rather not lose his friendship?¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 24

    I wet my lip. His eyes dart down, both of us moving despite ourselves. ¡°You really think he¡¯d mind?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡± Nick¡¯s voice is ck and heavy with insinuation.


    ¡°Well, then,¡± I murmur, ¡°do we have to tell him?¡±


    His hand reaches up and catches a strand of my hair between his fingers. My breath stops altogether, eyes locked on his. ¡°Tell him what, exactly?¡±


    ¡°That we¡¯re getting to know one another better,¡± I say. ¡°After all, isn¡¯t that what he¡¯s always wanted?¡±


    Nick¡¯s lips curl into a sardonic smile. The expression sets my heart into overdrive. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s the way he intended.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± Brave or foolish, I don¡¯t know, but I¡¯ve lost the ability to control my actions. My arms wrap around his neck of their own ord, the warmth of his worked-up skin burning against mine. His handse up around my waist-to push me away or pull me closer?


    ¡°You can¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t enjoy kissing me,¡± I murmur. ¡°That much was obvious.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I¡¯d have to be dead not to enjoy that.¡±


    And then I¡¯m pressing my lips against his, and he¡¯s groaning into my mouth, hands at my waist finally finding their resolve and pulling me closer. He¡¯s big and sweaty and I don¡¯t mind at all. If anything, it makes him feel even more overwhelmingly alive against me.


    Nick kisses me back fiercely, the kisses every inch as powerful as the ones we¡¯d shared in Cole¡¯s study. They burn-they brand.


    He breaks away from my lips with a groaned curse. ¡°Fuck. You¡¯ll be the death of me, ir.¡±


    I¡¯m breathing too hard to respond. He pushes me away firmly, shaking his head. ¡°Not here,¡± he growls. ¡°Not now.¡±


    The promise in his words makes my stomach tighten. Somewhere else, then. Some other time. I reach up to straighten my blouse, feigning moreposure than I feel. Inside my chest, my heart is hammering.


    We watch each other for a long moment. The smile on his face is gone now, reced by an intensity I¡¯m unused to. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you know what you¡¯re asking for,¡± he says.


    I look back at him levelly, thinking about the way he keeps people at a distance, at the words I¡¯d spoken to him justst week. I¡¯m sorry for caring, all right?


    If someone would get hurt, it would be me. And yet¡­ I find myself thinking that perhaps it would be worth it.


    Steps echo down the hallway. With the grace of arge predator, Nick strides away from me, grabbing a discarded training bag from the floor. He disappears down the opposite hallway toward the guest bath before Skye returns to the kitchen.


    She gives me an innocent smile. ¡°All good here?¡± she asks.


    I take a sip of my now-cold tea. ¡°Yes,¡± I say, forcing my voice even. ¡°All good.¡±


    Never before had a woman¡¯s lips so haunted me. Logically, realistically, I know they¡¯re not different than others I¡¯ve kissed. That what she¡¯d been suggesting-getting to know one another better-was something I could find anywhere else. Why risk ruining everything by indulging in it with her?


    And yet, my traitorous body wanted it more than it had ever wanted anything. Worse still was that my mind seemedmitted to joining the mutiny. It circled back to focus on her more times than I could count. On wheat-blonde hair and honey-brown eyes. On the smile that always seemed to hover around the edges of her lips, ready to break through like the sun through clouds. Too beautiful for me-she was sincerity andughter and goodness.


    Was that why her lips affected me like no other woman¡¯s ever had? After our encounter in her brother¡¯s study at that godawful party, they had nearly brought me to my knees.


    I shake my head at my own thoughts. Staying away is no longer an option. Minimizing fallout-that has to be my priority now. So I go to work the following Monday, not scheduling any out-of-office meetings, to show both her and I that we can handle it.


    That I¡¯m stronger than my attraction.


    ir¡¯s at work early. Bent over her desk in the openndscape, her hair is neatly curled down her back and a red, silken blouse curving around her form.


    I stop by her desk. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve visited her desk in these past weeks-or acknowledged her at all when not mediated by Gina. One by one, the firewalls I¡¯ve erected seem to being down.


    She pushes away themissioned logo designs for B. C. Adams and looks up at me with surprise. ¡°Mr. Park?¡±


    Mr. Park. She only ever calls me that at work. I can only imagine how much she hates saying the words.


    ¡°I want an evening briefing tonight,¡± I say. There are only a few other employees in the room, and they know better than to eavesdrop, but I make sure my voice is professional.


    ¡°Of course.¡± Something about the softness of the words makes me want to smile. ¡°Yes. Should I prepare anything?¡±


    ¡°No. I just want your opinions.¡± Our gaze catches and holds, and there¡¯s a ton of questions in hers. ¡°Be in my office by seven.¡±


    ¡°Certainly.¡± I can see the quiet confusion in her eyes, but after the way she¡¯d ambushed me in her brother¡¯s kitchen¡­ we¡¯ll have this conversation here, far away from prying eyes.


    The rest of the day is packed, as usual, and yet I find it hard to focus on anything but her pending arrival. It¡¯s a relief when my assistant finally announces her arrival, a few minutes past seven.


    She¡¯ste.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    My brandy sends a familiar burn down my throat. Rare are the times when I drink in my office in the evenings-yet one more thing she¡¯s reduced me to doing.


    ¡°Hi,¡± she says. Her hair falls like golden silk around her face. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°I can see that.¡± I gesture for the chair opposite my desk.


    She sits down, crossing her legs. ¡°So?¡± she asks. ¡°Am I here to be fired? Reprimanded? Told off for the other day?¡±


    ¡°Those are the only options you could think of?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I have about a hundred more on the list, but these seemed the most likely.¡±


    My lips curve. ¡°None of those three, actually.¡±


    ¡°Oh? You surprise me.¡±


    ¡°My goal in life,¡± I say, her eyes widening at the teasing. I haven¡¯t often indulged in that with her. ¡°So you want to get to know one another better.¡±


    ir¡¯s eyes ze at my words. The fire there is one I¡¯m used to seeing-but it¡¯s never before been turned on me in anything but irritation. The change is¡­well, irresistible.


    ¡°You asked me to your office to discuss us?¡±


    ¡°Was that not one of the options on your little list?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°Never even crossed my mind.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, making my voice a dark drawl. ¡°I can¡¯t very well have you attacking me again where your brother might catch us.¡±


    Her eyes sh. ¡°Attack you!¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 25

    ¡°First, the strip poker,¡± I say. ¡°And then the kiss in the kitchen. I¡¯d say you were ying with fire, ir, if I¡¯d think it would have any effect on you.¡±


    Her gaze deepens at the mention of the game of strip poker. Though I keep my face impassive, it stirs me too.


    The image of ir on the couch dressed in nothing but her underwear and the fall of her haires back to me. With the firelight flicking across her golden skin, it¡¯s an image I¡¯ll carry with me until the end of my days.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you wanted to meet in your office? You think you¡¯re safe here?¡±


    ¡°Safe enough,¡± I say, daring her to object.


    A slow shake of her head as shees to some understanding. I curse myself, watching her formte her words. She¡¯s always seen more than I¡¯d wanted her to. ¡°You¡¯re hoping I¡¯ll back out of this,¡± she says quietly. ¡°But why?¡± She speaks again before I have to, her voice lighter. ¡°Getting to know one another, then. I¡¯ll have to retract my ws untilter.¡±


    The heat of her voice makes me want to shake my head at the same time as need ws up my spine. Fuck, but I want this woman, against reason andmon sense itself.


    Her voice turns yful, the voice I¡¯ve heard her use so many times with Cole and Skye and her coterie of friends. Never with me. ¡°So, I have questions.¡±


    ¡°Of course you do.¡± It¡¯s a groan, really. But perhaps I could use this to my advantage. Make her see the man I am-make her walk away.


    ¡°Howe Cole¡¯s never spoken about your family?¡±


    ¡°Next question,¡± I say.


    ¡°But that¡¯s an easy one,¡± she protests. ¡°You can¡¯t dodge them all, you know, not if we¡¯re to get to know one another.¡±


    Not the getting-to-know I had in mind, I think, and maybe she sees it on my face, because her lip curls.


    ¡°So you want easier ones, huh? Fine.¡± She leans forward. ¡°What¡¯s your favorite color?¡±


    My lips curve, too. ¡°So we moved from the psychologist¡¯s couch to fourth-grade recess in the span of one conversation, did we?¡±


    ¡°Maybe if you weren¡¯t so hard to get to know, I wouldn¡¯t have to resort to such extreme measures.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a favorite color.¡±


    ¡°Good. I¡¯m d we established that. See, don¡¯t you already feel like we¡¯re much better friends?¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°And now you¡¯re learning things about me. This is great.¡± She tries to hide her smile by biting her lower lip. If I¡¯d found her beautiful before, she¡¯s glorious now. Alight from within. ¡°Tell me why you started your firm.¡±


    It¡¯s thest thing I expect her to ask. I suspect a trap, but in her honey-brown eyes there¡¯s nothing but sincerity. I find myself answering more honestly than I¡¯d nned.


    ¡°I wanted to make a name for myself. And I wanted to make money. Loads and loads of it.¡±


    There¡¯s no censure in her face at the tant admittance of greed. Instead, she nods thoughtfully. ¡°You and Cole must have bonded over that, at university.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Cole¡¯s a builder. He always wanted to leave a mark, a legacy. For me it wasn¡¯t quite like that.¡±


    ¡°Why this specific industry, then?¡±


    Why do you do something so distasteful? Is that her question? I square my shoulders and look past her. ¡°I was good at it. I still am.¡±


    She nods, like I¡¯ve given her something to think about. I don¡¯t like that. ¡°Why fashion?¡± I ask her instead. There¡¯s no doubt in my mind that she could have picked anything, anything at all. With her smile and intellect, with her family¡¯s money and background, any avenue must have been open for her.


    Her lips turn down in a frown at my question. Does she think I¡¯m judging?


    ¡°It¡¯s what I¡¯ve always enjoyed. It was what I dreamed of since I was a kid. And¡­ I felt like I had to at least try, you know? I had to know before I decided to switchnes.¡±


    It¡¯s not quite an answer to my question. There¡¯s more there, things that probably have to do with that line sheunched a few years ago, but she moves the conversation on before I have a chance to press. ¡°Look at us being so civil,¡± she points out. ¡°A few weeks ago, I wouldn¡¯t have believed it.¡±


    ¡°Me neither.¡±


    ¡°Why did you hate me for so long?¡± She gets up from her chair,ing around the desk to my side. ¡°You never did tell me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking what my version of your poker game was?¡± It¡¯s a question to buy time. There¡¯s no way I can tell her the truth, painful and unearned as it is. I had to stay away from you, and the best way to do that was to make you want to stay away.


    ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s just who I am,¡± I murmur. ¡°Perhaps it wasn¡¯t you-perhaps I¡¯m just like that with everyone.¡±


    Her eyes widen slightly. Had she never considered that? My reputation is most certainly earned. There¡¯s a reason people call me a vulture with relish.


    ¡°Not with my brother. Not with his wife.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve known Cole a long time.¡±


    She cocks her head. ¡°Some would assume you¡¯d be nice to your best friend¡¯s little sister, you know.¡±


    ¡°Keeping you at arm¡¯s length was me being nice.¡±


    Her eyes dance. ¡°I think we have different opinions of nice.¡±


    ¡°Clearly.¡±


    ¡°I have more questions.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that you do.¡±


    Her teeth worry her lip, but the look in her eyes is entirely yful. It¡¯s overwhelming, facing the full brunt of her mischievous flirtation. She¡¯s always dazzled in social situations-no wonder she¡¯s invited to more parties and events than she can ever attend.


    ¡°What about Andr¨¦?¡± I force my voice to grow steely. ¡°Have you lost interest in the boy?¡±


    Her smile widens. ¡°I broke up with him months ago.¡±


    I turn my gaze toward the windows. So she¡¯d toyed with my expectations instead, without admitting that he was nothing to her. Drawing out my jealousy, even as I insulted her and pushed her away. Clever.


    ¡°Which leads me to another one of my questions. Why are the only women I¡¯ve ever seen you spend time with the ones who only care for your money?¡± She steps closer, and the teasing in her voice gives way to earnestness. ¡°It seems hollow.¡±


    ¡°Like sipping champagne with fellow heiresses night after night?¡±


    The barb hit home. ir¡¯s eyes widen, and then narrow in anger. Her hatred of being portrayed as spoiled or indulgent is something I know well. An easy wound to press.

 Billion Dollar Beast 26

    But she doesn¡¯t fight.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says instead. ¡°Exactly as hollow as that.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I prefer it that way.¡± I take a sip of my brandy to gather my wits. The women I¡¯d been with had never wanted anything but my notoriety, my edge, my money. They¡¯d enjoyed it when I was rough in bed, wanting the man they thought Nichs Park was. No one asked questions like these. What about your family? Bah.


    The point of this had been to make ir back off. To see that this was a bad idea.


    I hadn¡¯t seeded at all.


    ir steps closer. A lock of her hair falls forward and she pushes it back impatiently. ¡°I don¡¯t believe that for a second.¡±


    ¡°Believe what you wish.¡± I make my words deliberately cold, looking away from her as if she¡¯s not inches from my face. For years, my unfeeling facade had worked with her. All attempts of reaching out had been rebuffed like this. I wait in pained silence for her irritation, for her turning away.


    ¡°Damn it, Nick, you¡¯re making this far harder than it needs to be.¡± Her eyes ze with anger, her hands sped into fists at her side. But as I watch, the anger res and morphs into fierce determination.


    And then she attacks me.


    There is no other way to describe it. She forces her way into the circle of my arms, a living mee to life, her lips warm against mine. There¡¯s no finesse to it. Perhaps that¡¯s why it overwhelms me so. My body had already been on the edge from her nearness, and with her warm scent crashing into me, my dams break.


    I catch her around the waist. It¡¯s nothing at all to pull her against my body, her soft breasts giving way against my chest. The kisses she gives me are fierce with determination. The message is clear.


    As if you like it hollow!


    My hands gripping her waist, I take control of the kiss. I¡¯ll give you more than you bargained for, it says. Her mouth opens against my tongue and her body melts into mine as I push her against the desk.


    Just likest time, and the time before that, kissing is a far betternguage for us. Words are unnecessary when her arms twine around my neck. This says everything and more.


    And hollow it is not.


    Not for all in the world can I imagine letting her go. How could I, when she¡¯s soft and warm and so willing and I¡¯m drowning in this, in her, in the sensations-


    ¡°Mr. Park? You have a phone call.¡±


    ¡°Damn it,¡± I curse, reaching past her to press down on the answering inte on my desk. ¡°Take a message,¡± I bark.


    ir giggles, her handsing down to rest on my chest. ¡°What awful timing he has,¡± she says, reaching up to kiss my neck.


    I push her back. ¡°Not here.¡±


    She rocks back on her heels with a pout, but nods. ¡°All right. Where, then?¡±


    ¡°So eager, ir?¡±


    She reaches out and runs a finger over the edge of my jaw. The simple touch sends a shiver through me, and she sees that. ¡°I think we both are,¡± she murmurs. ¡°This has been a long timeing.¡±


    Eight years, to be exact.


    ¡°I¡¯ll figure something out,¡± I say. ¡°Now, will you be able to behave yourself in the future?¡±


    ¡°Behave myself?¡±


    ¡°No attacks,¡± I say, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Consider your brother¡¯s house neutral territory.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Switzend,¡± she agrees warmly. Her eyes dance as she looks up at me. Finally, I think-I¡¯m finally seeing the ir that she shows to other people. The ir who has so much lightness in her that it spills out at the seams. I doubt I¡¯m worthy of the sight, but damn if it doesn¡¯t warm me regardless.


    ¡°Behave yourself,¡± I murmur again, bending my head to press a final kiss to her full lips. She sighs into the kiss, warm, trusting, lovely. I straighten just as she steps closer.


    ¡°Not here,¡± I say darkly. ¡°You¡¯d better leave, before Ipletely lose my head.¡±


    ¡°And that would be a bad thing?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it definitely would.¡±


    She heads to the door, pausing before it. Her lips are curved. ¡°So we¡¯ll get to know one another¡­ better.¡±


    And damn it, but how can I not give her what she wants when it¡¯s what I¡¯m dying for as well? ¡°Yes,¡± I agree. ¡°We will.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s the thing,¡± Maddie says triumphantly. ¡°It didn¡¯t work! So now they¡¯re stuck renovating the entire property regardless, and it¡¯s not usable until spring.¡±


    The rest of usugh obediently, John shooting Maddie a particrly warm smile.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°So your family is out of a chalet this winter,¡± Tate says. ¡°How tragic.¡±


    ¡°You should organize a fundraiser,¡± I suggest dryly. ¡°It¡¯s a charitable cause.¡±


    That gets genuineughter. Maddie elbows me yfully. ¡°Only if you promise to be the hostess.¡±


    As the conversation continues, my eyes sweep the fashionable crowd. The Seattle Fashion Institute has decided to celebrate the opening of New York Fashion Week remotely. A highlight reel is running on a giant projector screen, and below the giant catwalks, Seattle¡¯s fashion-interested sip on champagne.


    It¡¯s a room that younger me would have loved being in. But ever since the fashion disaster that was my first line, I¡¯m ufortably aware of what some of the experts in the room probably think of me.


    Sipping my champagne, I nce around the room and the illustrious attendees.


    That¡¯s when I see him. Nick, casually leaning against the opposite wall, a ss of brandy in hand. In the dim lighting, his suit looks like poured ink on hisrge frame. His eyes sweep the crowd like a predator¡¯s before they lock with mine.


    What¡¯s he doing here?


    I raise my champagne ss in greeting.


    He inclines his head, his lips half-curled. There¡¯s something in his gaze, something I want to explore further, but then he looks down at a woman approaching him. Long dark hair, an asymmetric dress. I force myself to look away.


    The conversation continues around me but it¡¯s just words now, words I have difficulty following. When I nce back to Nick, he¡¯s gone, and so is the woman he was talking to. The champagne burns pleasurably down my throat.


    ¡°Excuse me for a moment.¡± I weave through the crowd with practiced ease. Several people stop me to talk, and I do my best to be in the moment, but my eyes can¡¯t seem to stop roving. Why the hell is he here?


    Was this what he meant by figuring something out?


    I curse my heels as I walk up the steps to the calmer mezzanine. No Amazon-sized models walking here, and no house music either. Is he here?

 Billion Dollar Beast 27

    An arm wraps around my waist and then I¡¯m pulled unceremoniously into a coat closet. The scent of him is what hits me first, what keeps me from shrieking.


    ¡°Nick?¡±


    He shuts the door firmly behind us. ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡±


    ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°Are youining?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± With his arm still around me, I¡¯m pressed tightly against his body. My hands slide up his chest of their own ord.


    ¡°Good.¡± He bends his head and presses his lips to mine. It¡¯s just as heady and intoxicating as I¡¯ve gotten used to. How can every kiss with him feel like the first?


    His tongue demands entry and the deepening of the kiss opens something in my chest, something I¡¯d already been on the verge of feeling. Affection, more of it than my stupid crush on him had evermanded before.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I tease. ¡°What happened to Mr. I-like-it-hollow?¡±


    ¡°Consider this a tactical retreat,¡± he says, tipping my head back to run his lips along my jaw. ¡°I have to attack first or you¡¯d be out there, wrapped around me for all to see.¡±


    ¡°Oh? You¡¯re that irresistible, are you?¡±


    ¡°To you, I seem to be,¡± he mutters. And then he¡¯s kissing me again and all I can do is hold on and ride the sensations. Kissing him back, nipping at his lower lip, tugging at his hair and hearing him groan into my mouth.


    ¡°Why are you here tonight?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that obvious?¡± His hands skate down the sides of my body, smoothing over the silk of my dress. ¡°I can¡¯t have you throw yourself at me in the office. I certainly can¡¯t have you throw yourself at me in your brother¡¯s house.¡±


    ¡°Throw myself at you?¡± I try to make my voice dry, but ites out as a purr.


    ¡°You know exactly what you¡¯ve been doing.¡± He kisses down my neck. There¡¯s tension in his shoulders, in his chest, strong and coiled beneath my hands. I wonder what he¡¯d be like unleashed-when all that energy has a focus and a purpose. The thought makes me shiver.


    ¡°What is it you want from me, ir?¡± he demands. His hands tug gently on my hair and my eyes flit up to meet his. ¡°You¡¯ve been teasing me for weeks. Do you just want to see how far I can be pushed? You know I¡¯ll push back. I told you that I¡¯m not a man who ys games. So if this is a game, ir, I¡¯ll end it.¡±


    The kiss he gives me then is a zing, furious thing. I kiss him back and hold on as he turns us around, until my back is against the rack of coats. He disappears for a moment and I hear the click of a lock being turned. The sound sends shivers of nervous anticipation through me.


    ¡°Can¡¯t be your first time sneaking away at an event.¡± It¡¯s meant to be empty bluster, but ites out as a question.


    ¡°You¡¯re making assumptions,¡± he says.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only thing I can do,¡± I respond. ¡°I know so little about you.¡±


    He reaches out and tips my head back. My breath quickens at the intensity in his eyes. ¡°You know plenty.¡±


    ¡°Not enough.¡±


    ¡°More than enough,¡± he says. ¡°And you still want this?¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t y dumb.¡±


    I step closer, my body reacting to the heat emanating off of him. ¡°To finish what we started during the strip poker game, you mean. To get to know one another.¡±


    His eyes move from my eyes to my lips. ¡°Yes.¡±


    There¡¯s something in the tone of his voice-he wants my agreement, my eptance, my permission. I give it to him.


    ¡°I always finish what I start.¡±


    His eyes sh and then he¡¯s kissing me, bending his head to meet my lips. Slow,nguorous, teasing kisses, his mouth a hard press against mine. Kisses that say he¡¯ll take his time-that he¡¯s done this before, that he¡¯s in control. I don¡¯t want Nick to be in control.


    I want him to lose it.


    I kiss him with my arms wrapped around his neck and my breasts pressed to his chest. I melt into him, opening my mouth for his tongue, fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. Shivers are coursing through my body like electricity.


    Strong hands grip my waist. He¡¯s kissing me with expert skill, and I¡¯m doing the same.


    Surrender, his kisses say.


    Give up, mine say.


    My hands find the buttons of his shirt. It doesn¡¯t take long to undo them all, finding the strength and width of his chest beneath. The dark smattering of hair. I let my hands run underneath his shirt, hanging off him.


    His hand strokes from my hip to my breast, palming it. My nipple is hard through the thin fabric and his thumb brushes over it once, twice, sending heady want through me. Even through my clothes, the touch is like fire. I want him to twist it, to soothe the ache.


    Nick understands. He tugs my blouse up with strong movements and tosses it to the side without looking.


    ¡°I recognize this,¡± he says darkly, hands on my bare waist, eyes on my bra. It¡¯s one of my own-the one I¡¯d worn to the strip poker game in Whistler.


    I arch my back invitingly and he understands,rge hands tugging the cups of my bra down to bare my nipples. His mouth is there an instantter and warm heat spreads from the contact, rippling through me. I run my hands over his hair and bite my lip to keep from moaning.


    Nick¡¯s voice is gravelly. ¡°Do you know how hard it was to keep from doing this during the poker game?¡±


    I nod, realizing toote that he can¡¯t see me. ¡°So hard.¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    He gives a low chuckle. ¡°That it was.¡±


    I reach back and undo my bra. The only thing I want is skin against skin, to feel the heat of him against me.


    ¡°Tell me you¡¯re also wearing the same panties as that night. The image of you in them has haunted me.¡± His hand ventures down to my skirt.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you check?¡±


    And God help me, but he does. His right hand lifts the hem of my skirt with ease and then he¡¯s there, touching my upper thighs and easing my legs apart.


    ¡°Fuck, ir¡­¡±


    I am wearing a simr pair of underwear. Beige withcy flowers in the lining, the fabric almost transparent. His fingers slip under thece, roughness of his fingertips against my sensitive skin.

 Billion Dollar Beast 28

    I hold my breath as his fingers move further down and then he¡¯s there, touching me, and my entire body shivers at the intimate touch.


    The pressure and the oh-so-amazing circling of his fingers are too much for me to watch. I close my eyes and lean my head against his shoulder, losing myself to the sensations. His voice is a hoarse growl in my ear.


    ¡°Do you know how much I wanted to do this during that fucking poker game? A thin piece of fabric was the only thing separating me from this.¡±


    And then he¡¯s delving deeper, parting and stroking and one long finger sinks into me with ease. The simple movement steals my breath away.


    Lips on my neck, fingers inside me, his left hand on my breast. I¡¯m caught between currents and do my best to hold on, but Nick won¡¯t let me. Why was I fighting against his skill earlier, against his experience? It seems futile now.


    Nick in control is a glorious thing.


    He turns me around, his left arm locking around my bare waist like a steel band. I¡¯m held against his body, no way out, no mercy.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± he murmurs against my skin, his fingers speeding up, circling faster.


    Perhaps a stronger woman than me could resist, but I can¡¯t, not with so many sensations at once. He presses his lips to that spot right where my neck meets my shoulder and I breathe in the scent of him, of man and leather and musk and I¡¯m hovering right on the edge.


    ¡°Let go,¡± he orders me, and my traitorous body does. His hand ps down between my legs and the sting against my arousal sends me over the edge. I tumble and fall into pleasure. It¡¯s so effortless that even in the midst of my orgasm a small part of my mind recognizes this for the unusual thing it is.


    He holds me as I shatter and piece myself back together, big hands still moving over my body, on my breasts, my waist, my thighs. That¡¯s when I feel him against me-a hardness against my back. I roll my hips against it and Nick groans in response.


    Can we, here? Now?


    If my body was the one calling the shots, he¡¯d already be buried inside me. I¡¯m aching for him. I twist in his arms and he lets me, finding his lips with my own.


    Our movements quicken. His shirt is easily pushed off and then his body is finally mine to touch. The warm skin, the rippling of strong muscles under skin, the impossibly wide shoulders.


    All mine.


    And maybe I tell him that because he smiles, the same sardonic grin as always, and tugs at my skirt. ¡°This damn thing won¡¯te off,¡± he groans. ¡°I¡¯ll be yours as soon as it¡¯s off.¡±


    I undo the hidden zipper at the same time as I nod to his pants. ¡°And those.¡±


    Watching one another, we strip off until we¡¯re in nothing but our underwear. I reach out, wanting to uncover him, to see the bulge unclothed, but his hands stop me again. They smooth over my hips and grab hold of the thin fabric of my underwear.


    ¡°There¡¯s no going back from this, ir.¡±


    I roll my eyes at him. ¡°How many times are you going to warn me tonight, Nick? Are you getting cold feet?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Nothing about me is cold right now.¡±


    I shake out my hair and smile at the way his eyes catch the movement. Shimmying my hips in his grasp, I make my decision. ¡°Take them off.¡±


    He pulls my panties down my legs and it¡¯s like a lever has been pulled, or a dam broken, because there is not the least bit of hesitation left in him. His movements are businesslike, strong, gripping.


    ¡°Brace your hands against the wall.¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    I do what he says and for a moment the backs of my thighs are cold until he¡¯s there, thighs against mine, hands smoothing over my bare skin.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he says, and the curse strengthens me. I arch my back and push against him, hearing him swear again. He gives my cheek a light p and then he¡¯s running something along my skin, something hot and hard and I want to turn around to see but he¡¯s gripping me tightly.


    There¡¯s power in this-in giving myself to his power. Surrendering to the attraction between us. How long had I wanted to see him like this? Unchained and unfettered, the real Nick below the cool facade.


    Anticipation and fear chase one another through my body, reacting to his teasing, to the slow stroke of him, waiting for the delicious sensation of his entry.


    And then he¡¯s there. He pushes into me slowly, an inch at a time, his hands on my hips. He¡¯s big, bigger than I¡¯m used to, and I breathe through the overwhelming sensations.


    He pauses. ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, yes¡­¡± I take a deep breath and rx into the feeling. I reach back, a hand on his hip, wanting to pull him all the way in. He gives it to me, burying himself to the hilt with a groan.


    His hands brace on either side of me as he stills. ¡°Fucking hell,¡± he mutters.


    I feel the same. The fit is too snug, it¡¯s too much, but I think I¡¯d die if he pulled out and left me.


    He doesn¡¯t. He starts to move instead and I do my best to hold on, closing my eyes at the delicious invasion. The thrusts are teasing. Slow, deep, controlled. One of his hands slip from its grip on my hip to settle between my legs. His fingers circle in tune to his movements.


    I fist my hand blindly in one of the coats on the rack and bite my lip again to keep from crying out.


    ¡°God,¡± he groans. ¡°You¡¯re so tight.¡±


    It¡¯s undeniably true, at leastpared to the sheer size of him. I push my hips back to meet his thrusts. The sweet, now-fading pain makes my pleasure build faster, reignited by his hands.


    So when I turn my head back to see him, his eyes wild and burning, his hands gripping my hips, the words fall easily from my lips. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back.¡±


    And let it never be said that Nick didn¡¯t obey, not this time. His thrusts speed up. His hands grip until my skin stings, and still, I want him to grip me harder. My hands w for support against the wall.


    His body covers minepletely. The heavy, deep breathing from him echoes my own, driving on my pleasure. This is what I want from him-to see hime apart, to see him undone, for him to lose himself in me.


    Just like I¡¯ve been lost in him so many times.


    He gives me that. He pumps fast and strong, and I feel powerful and used, and somehow the two strengthen one another rather than detract. His need is palpable and I¡¯m the only thing that can give him relief, our bodies fitting together perfectly.


    It doesn¡¯t take long for either of us. The years of irritation and wanting and banter have be a living thing, a fuel to our fire,yering this encounter with more meaning than I¡¯d expected.


    Nick pulls me up against his body as his hips work erratically into me. The feeling of him pulsing inside pushes me over the edge. It¡¯s a ze of glory and sweat and connection, our bodies stered together, my back to his front.


    My heart is still pounding as wee apart. His arms are around me, turning me around, pulling me into an embrace. ¡°You okay?¡±


    I nod against the warmth of his shoulder. ¡°Are you?¡±


    A low, darkugh. ¡°I doubt I¡¯ve ever been more okay.¡±


    Something giddy and inappropriate dances in my chest. It feels like tion¡­ or perhaps happiness. ¡°I can¡¯t believe we just did that.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t? I can¡¯t believe we waited so long.¡± Nick runs a hand over my hair in a gesture that¡¯s more sweet than sensual. This is a side of him I¡¯ve never seen. More disarmed, and less¡­ wary.


    ¡°So is this why you came to a Fashion Week event?¡± I say. ¡°Were you even invited?¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 29

    ¡°I¡¯m invited everywhere,¡± he scoffs. ¡°All it takes is a few phone calls.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°Besides, I couldn¡¯t let you spend all your time with those sycophants out there.¡±


    ¡°My friends, who will probably be wondering where I am.¡± I rise on my tiptoes and press a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. He lets me. ¡°Let¡¯s go. We¡¯re¡­ oh God. I can¡¯t believe we actually did this in a coat closet.¡±


    ¡°You leave first.¡± He reaches for his clothes. Despite his nakedness and the small room, he looks the picture of control and ease. ¡°I¡¯ll leave in a bit.¡±


    ¡°So concerned with our reputations,¡± I say.


    ¡°Only with yours,¡± he says. ¡°Now, will this stop you from throwing yourself at me?¡±


    I fasten my bra and re at him through my sideswept bangs. His cool tone is quickly bringing out my temper. ¡°I was never throwing myself at you.¡±


    ¡°Call it whatever you will. But I¡¯m expecting perfect behavior tomorrow at your brother¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯reing to dinner, too?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He looks at me like he¡¯s daring me to protest. Does he think I still dislike him? Perhaps he does. He¡¯s basically insinuating he just threw me a bone, yes, that bone, to stop me from jumping him.


    ¡°Come on, quit acting like this wasn¡¯t for your own benefit, too.¡± I tug my skirt into ce and arch a brow at him. ¡°Your pleasure was pretty damn evident.¡±


    His eyes narrow. ¡°So was yours. By my count, you came twice, ir.¡±


    Of course Nichs Park is the sort of man to gloat about that. If only he knew how rare that was for me.


    ¡°It was adequate,¡± I say breezily.


    ¡°Adequate?¡± He motions for me to turn around as he tucks my shirt in. ¡°You wound me.¡±


    ¡°Hardly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll just have to aim for three next time.¡±


    ¡°Next time?¡± I step away from hisrge hands and shake out my hair, knowing how he likes that. The smile I throw his way is the same one I¡¯ve always given him when we spar. ¡°So you¡¯re that sure there¡¯ll be one?¡±


    Nick narrows his eyes at me, but I don¡¯t give him a chance to respond. I unlock the door and slip out of the closet instead, the scent of him still clinging to my skin, my heart beating a wild dance in my ribcage.


    My brother¡¯s house used to be a safe ce. Dinner there was easy, fun,fortable. It was family and food andughter. Tonight is nothing like that. It¡¯s nerves and expectation and this strange, giddy excitement, knowing that Nick will be there.


    I take my time preparing for dinner. Putting on old-school music and trying on dresses, wanting to strike a perfect bnce between cute and sexy. I¡¯d promised Nick I¡¯d behave myself, and I would. But that didn¡¯t mean I wouldn¡¯t try to tempt him. There was no rule about him not attacking me, was there?


    I¡¯m whistling to myself as I do my makeup. I¡¯ve done two months out of three for my consulting contract for his firm. B. C. Adams is doing better than it has in a decade, though it¡¯s too early to tell if it¡¯s out of the woods yet. My brother is having a baby. I¡¯ve finally-finally-slept with Nichs Park after a near decade of wondering what it would be like.


    It had been hard. It had been fast.


    And it had been every bit as exciting as I¡¯d always imagined. In a coat closet, nheless. That was definitely a first, and even if a small part of me is outraged at my own daring, the rest is¡­ well, pretty damn impressed.


    Skye is the first to grab a hold of me when I arrive. From the living room, I hear my brother and Nick talking, but she drags me in the opposite direction.


    ¡°Oh my god, ir, they¡¯re amazing.¡±


    It takes me a moment to understand. ¡°What¡¯s amazing? Oh, you mean the samples?¡±


    ¡°Yes! I¡¯m wearing your underwear now and one of your slips.¡± She looks down at the navy dress she¡¯s wearing, and thenughs at herself. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like you can see that. But I¡¯ve been using the negligees too. Everything you gave me.¡±


    Gratitude makes my chest warm. ¡°Thank you, Skye. Truly.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯ve you madece thisfortable?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s actually the mixture of material. stane and polyamide and cotton, all in the right percentages.¡±


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t change it,¡± she says firmly. ¡°I¡¯m writing down a list of notes too, with all my thoughts. I¡¯ll give you extensive feedback.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I want. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°How long is this a secret?¡± She nces toward the cased opening and the voices that beckon. ¡°Cole has wondered, you know, about my sudden influx of new underwear. And not negatively, either.¡±


    I close my eyes. ¡°Ugh. I didn¡¯t want to hear that.¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°Come on, you already know I¡¯m pregnant. How do you think that happened, huh?¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    ¡°Why are you continuing this line of conversation?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sorry. You look a bit green. Do you need to sit down? Should I fetch my smelling salts?¡±


    I roll my eyes at her version of exaggeration. ¡°You read too many Regency novels. Smelling salts, Christ.¡±


    ¡°Clearly something we should bring back.¡± Her arm twines under mine. Shorter than me and with her brown hair, we look like nothing alike, and yet she feels like a true sister.


    ¡°So,¡± she says, her eyes sweeping over my dress. ¡°Are you going outter?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, no.¡±


    ¡°Well, you look like a million bucks,¡± she says. I nce down, and oh my poor heart is vain, but I feel strengthened by herpliment. A short gray dress contrasted with a knitted sweater. Stockings and boots and my hair soft around my shoulders. It¡¯s a fall look, designed to show off my legs.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, winking. ¡°I dressed up for you.¡±


    Skye rolls her eyes. ¡°Liar. But if that makes you feel morefortable, I won¡¯t press you for the true reason.¡±


    My words falter in my mouth. I want to ask her to exin herself-does she know about Nick and me?-but we¡¯re walking into the living room and the chance is lost.


    There¡¯s no way she suspects. What Skye knows, she¡¯d tell Cole, and my brother is still beautifully oblivious. He wouldn¡¯t be able to hide it.


    He sweeps me into a hug, tweaking my nose when he leans back-he knows I hate that under the best of circumstances. And with Nichs Park, who not twenty-four hours ago was inside of me, observing the exchange is not the best of circumstances.


    Cole¡¯s smile is wide. ¡°Apparently you¡¯re excellent at what you do at Nick¡¯s firm.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 30

    My eyes flit past his shoulder to lock on Nick¡¯s. He doesn¡¯t look away. ¡°I am?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Cole continues. ¡°I pretended to be surprised, but of course I wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I repeat dazedly. Nick nods his hello to me before taking another sip of his drink. His face is impassive again, no hint of amusement in his eyes and no sardonic smile lurking in the corner of his mouth.


    ¡°Not to mention that you¡¯re both here together and we didn¡¯t have to trick you or hold you here under duress.¡± Cole¡¯s smile is still wide.


    No, he definitely doesn¡¯t suspect anything.


    ¡°Progress,¡± Nick intones, raising his ss as a toast to me. I feel burned by the intensity in his gaze. y along, it says. You promised to behave.


    ¡°Progress,¡± I echo.


    The sound of footsteps on the staircase breaks us out of our staring contest. Timmyes barreling down, Skye¡¯s nephew, a boy of fourteen. Puberty has just started to grab a hold of the boy and his gangly limbs are longer every time I see him.


    He stops next to his aunt. ¡°I heard dinner was done.¡±


    ¡°So it is.¡± She reaches up and pushes his hair back. They¡¯re almost the same height now. ¡°I booked a time at the hairdresser tomorrow. Your hair is really getting too long.¡±


    A faint blush spreads across Timmy¡¯s cheeks. He pushes her hand away. ¡°Hi, ir,¡± he says to me.


    I smile at him. He often spends the night at Skye and Cole¡¯s ce, and they¡¯ve given him his own room. ¡°Hey, kid. How¡¯s it going?¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Hees up beside me. ¡°Cole and I just managed to get tickets for the Super Bowl.¡± His voice cracked once, faintly.


    ¡°What, really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± His wide grin is infectious. The discussion takes up a fair amount of bandwidth around the dinner table, with both Nick and Cole chiming in. Skye sends me amiserating look across the table. Neither she nor I have ever been able to cultivate any true interest in baseball.


    Nick and Cole smile, too, at the asional crack in Timmy¡¯s voice. It¡¯s only after dinner, when he scampers back upstairs to his new video game-my brother spoils him beyond belief-that they bothugh.


    ¡°I remember that,¡± Nick says. ¡°Thank God it onlysts a few months, at best.¡±


    ¡°Cole¡¯s voice cracked for at least a year.¡± I sink deeper into the armchair, nodding to where my brother is sitting with his arm around Skye.


    ¡°Really?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Oh, yes. And Lairy didn¡¯t let me live that down, either.¡±


    Nick sits in the armchair beside mine. His dark eyes find mine. ¡°Can you really be that cruel?¡±


    I cross my legs and feel a slice of triumph as his eyes take in the movement. The dress had been an excellent choice. ¡°Sometimes.¡±


    ¡°She was merciless,¡± Cole adds. ¡°But I¡¯ve teased her about a fair number of things too, so I¡¯d say we¡¯re even.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°Even?¡± I feign mock outrage. ¡°Any younger sibling knows that there¡¯s no such thing as even. Skye, help me out.¡±


    She nods sagely. ¡°They can tickle you, you can¡¯t tickle them. They can tease you, you can¡¯t tease them. I¡¯m with ir here. You had to take every chance you got.¡±


    ¡°Show no mercy, take no hostages,¡± I say. And then, because I can¡¯t resist, I turn to Nick. ¡°Do you have any siblings? Help us convince Cole.¡±


    The shake of his head is smooth. ¡°Only child, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°What a wonderful thing,¡± Cole sighs, and we allugh as I pretend to flip him off.


    ¡°To be fair, you gave me a lot of things to tease you about. You made it easy, Lairy.¡±


    ¡°Are you victim-ming?¡± I shake my head at my big brother in mock outrage. ¡°I¡¯d advise you to stop talking right about now.¡±


    ¡°Or what? You¡¯re going to get ourwyers involved? We have the same ones.¡± Heughs good-naturedly and reaches out to rest his arm around Skye¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You had a crush on a new guy every week. It was great fodder for jokes.¡±


    Skye and Nick bothugh. I don¡¯t, the smile on my face growing just a tad tighter. ¡°You kept bringing your friends over. It was very easy to.¡± My voice is carefully cheerful. My mingling voice, honed by years of parties. Inside, I¡¯m trying to telepathically tell my brother to shut the hell up.


    Skye takes a sip of her alcohol-free cider. ¡°As if you didn¡¯t have crushes when you were a teenager.¡±


    Cole leans his head back against the couch. He looks the picture of ease, at peace and amused. Shouldn¡¯t people who¡¯ve found their happiness be kind? Not, you know, ruin it for others? My brother hasn¡¯t gotten that memo, because he destroys everything.


    ¡°Not like ir did. Didn¡¯t you have a crush on Nick when we first became friends?¡±


    Several things happen at once, then.


    In my peripheral view, I see Nick still.


    Skye frowns at her husband in clear disapproval.


    Cole grins at me and Nick, thinking this is nothing but a fun joke. Something we¡¯llugh about.


    I force my voice to obey. Ites out unhurried, unforced. ¡°That was such a long time ago,¡± I say. ¡°And itsted for exactly a week.¡±


    ¡°Until you discovered what a brute he is.¡± Cole nods to Nick, his smile growing wider.


    Nick smiles back. It¡¯s his sardonic one, the one that says he¡¯sughing at his own private joke. ¡°Not fit for anyone¡¯s little sister,¡± he says.


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Cole takes a sip of his own whiskey and nces down at Skye. Her displeasure is still in, and as he sees it, he pauses. ¡°What?¡±


    She shakes her head at him, but thankfully doesn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°Should we turn the tables?¡± I ask instead. ¡°Who was the one who crashed Dad¡¯s old Corvette a month after he got his license?¡±


    Cole groans and Nicktches on to the story immediately, asking for details. I breathe a shaky sigh of relief, even though I know it¡¯s only temporary.


    There¡¯s no way Nick will let me live this down.


    And somehow, when it¡¯s time to leave, Nick is the one who stands and faces me. ¡°I¡¯ll drive you home,¡± he says.


    The walk to his car is silent. I nce at him twice from the corner of my eye, but he looks like he¡¯s retreated, back into the cold impassivity I¡¯d been used to for years.


    I repress a sigh as I climb into the passenger seat of his Land Rover. ¡°Come on. Didn¡¯t we behave ourselves perfectly in there? I kept my promise.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 31

    He nods.


    ¡°And?¡± I let the word drawl. ¡°Don¡¯t we both get a gold star?¡±


    His hands grip the wheel tightly as he pulls out of my brother¡¯s driveway. We pause on the other side of the gate, blocking the way while the giant wrought-iron gates close behind us. Always security-minded.


    ¡°So you had a crush on me.¡± His voice is tight. ¡°What an interesting little tidbit.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t just ignore that, can you? Pretend you never heard it?¡±


    ¡°Not likely, ir.¡±


    ¡°It was a long time ago,¡± I say. There¡¯s no need for him to know all the gory details-that the crush had lingered throughout the years, that every time I¡¯d seen him it had reawakened and kept me wishing.


    ¡°So it had nothing to do with yesterday? With thest couple weeks of¡­¡± His voice dies out, but I hear the words. Of throwing yourself at me.


    Can you sink through a car with embarrassment? I¡¯m about to, burning a hole through the steel until his expensive car bes a Fred Flintstone vehicle.


    A hundred different responses flit through my mind. Do I y it off as a joke, too? There¡¯s no way Nick will handle it well if I say yes.


    ¡°It had nothing to do with that,¡± I say firmly. ¡°I was what, eighteen when we met? No, it¡¯s in the past. Cole was an ass to bring it up, but it means nothing.¡±


    Nick releases a breath. ¡°That¡¯s what I figured.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°So I don¡¯t want you to worry. I¡¯m not expecting anything toe from this.¡± I cross my legs in the car, and his eyes dart to them again. Victory, I think, even as my heart beats with the word defeat.


    He shiftsnes smoothly, passing by a slower car. ¡°You have no expectations,¡± he repeats.


    ¡°All right,¡± he says, and somehow, it sounds like he¡¯s the injured party. ¡°But I¡¯ll be damned if the one time I had you was at a party where I couldn¡¯t even hear you moan properly. So when we get to yours, I¡¯ming upstairs, and I¡¯m going to make you count how many times youe tonight. I¡¯m aiming for a minimum of three.¡±


    My breath whooshes out of my chest at that. There are no words in response to that deration, none at all. I can¡¯t even form thoughts.


    He reaches out and puts a hand on my thigh. I look at it there, at the broad, tan skin and the curl of his fingers. ¡°Are you attacking me, Mr. Park?¡±


    The curl of his lips is back. ¡°You¡¯ll recognize it when I do,¡± he says. And when we park outside my apartment building¡­ well, he follows me up.


    Nick follows me into my apartment with a hand on my low back. Nerves and excitement dance through me.


    I feel alive-I feel powerful.


    His eyes scan the apartment in quiet perusal. For so many years it¡¯s beenpletely unthinkable that he would ever be here. An alien visit to Earth felt far likelier than Nick Park and me alone together in my home.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    And yet, here we are.


    The building is one of Cole¡¯s early projects, and like so many things in my life, it¡¯s not something I worked to gain myself. Is he judging me for that?


    ¡°This is a nice ce.¡±


    Nick walks to the giant windows in my living room. They overlook the city, and not for the first time, I wish I could read his mind.


    ¡°Do you want a ss of brandy?¡±


    ¡°If you have it, yes. Sure.¡±


    I search through my makeshift bar cart in the corner, fishing out a bottle that Cole must have left here sometime. It¡¯ll have to do. I walk past my study on the way back to him-it¡¯s simple enough to close the door with my foot. There¡¯s no reason he should see the mess of clothing samples in there.


    Nick turns to me. His eyes sweep over my form again, and this time, there¡¯s no hiding the want in them.


    ¡°Here,¡± I say softly, handing him the drink.


    ¡°Your ce looks exactly like I expected it to.¡±


    ¡°And what was that?¡±


    He swirls the amber-colored liquid around in his ss as he speaks. ¡°Organized chaos.¡±


    I nce around, seeing the space as he might. The oriental carpet, the beige sofa, the colorful chandelier. It¡¯s an eclectic mix of everything I like.


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I say. ¡°Organized but chaotic.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m learning.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your ce like?¡± I take a step back, sweeping my gaze over his six-foot-two form just as appraisingly as he just had. Dressed in all ck, with his dark hair and even darker eyes¡­ ¡°Let me guess. It¡¯s utilitarian. Nothing frivolous, nothing unnecessary.¡±


    His lip curls. ¡°Are you making assumptions again, ir?¡±


    ¡°I have to. I told you, I know so little about you.¡±


    He reaches out and tips my head back. My breath quickens at the intensity in his eyes. ¡°And I told you-you know plenty.¡±


    A million questions flit through my mind. Why does he keep everyone at an arm¡¯s-no, a football-field¡¯s-length distance? There¡¯s so much I want to know, and nothing I can ask.


    I step closer, reaching up to run my hand tentatively through his short, dark hair. It¡¯s silky to the touch. ¡°It wasn¡¯t hollow at all,¡± I murmur, running my nails over his scalp. ¡°Us, I mean. In the closet.¡±


    The furrow in his brow rxes. How easy it would be, I think, if ourmunication was only done by touch.


    ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t.¡± His hands close around my hips, dipping his head. ¡°And it won¡¯t be this time either.¡±


    He kisses me forcefully, expertly, punctuating his words. Desire sweeps through me with the touch of his lips, the brief intrusion of his tongue, the power coiled in his muscles.


    He¡¯s more man than anyone I¡¯ve been with before.


    I take his ss and break apart just long enough to set both of ours down. He keeps his gaze locked on mine the entire time. Can dark eyes swim with need? His seem to.


    Nick¡¯s hands skim down my sides and grips my thighs, lifting me up. ¡°Bedroom?¡±


    ¡°Down the hall.¡±


    The ease with which he carries mepletely sweeps away my resolution to make hime undone-my great n for turning the tables this time. To wrest control away from him.

 Billion Dollar Beast 32

    Because why would I want to stop him from doing his thing when it¡¯s this good?


    He climbs onto the bed andys me down, all without letting go of me. My headnds between two cushions and I reach up to toss them off the bed impatiently.


    ¡°Christ. How many decorative pillows do you need?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not important.¡± I twist beneath him so I can wrap my legs around his waist, rolling my hips once, twice¡­


    He¡¯s still ring above my head like my pillows are a personal affront. ¡°It¡¯s like a shrine tofort. Ridiculous.¡±


    I put my finger on his chin and tilt his head back down to mine. ¡°I distinctly remember being promised three orgasms.¡±


    ¡°Are you telling me to keep my head in the game?¡± The faint injury in his voice is too much for me. I burst intoughter.


    Nick rises up on his arms and looks down at me. A smile tugs at his lips. ¡°Well, that wasn¡¯t supposed to happen.¡±


    Still grinning, I reach up to cup his face in my hands. ¡°Sorry, sorry.¡±


    ¡°A womanughing in bed.¡± He shakes his head in mock affront and bends to kiss my neck.


    ¡°The horror,¡± I mumble. His lips trace my corbone and it¡¯s increasingly hard to think.


    ¡°I need to step up my game.¡± His hand bunches up the hem of my dress. Kissing his way down my body, he starts raising it inch by inch, my exposed skin his for the taking. I look up at the ceiling when he settles in between my legs.


    Soft kisses to my inner thighs, warm,rge hands smoothing up my skin. He tugs my panties to the side and then he¡¯s there, mouth on me, and I close my eyes at the feeling. Rx, I tell myself. Just rx.


    He stops. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡± I reach down to run my fingers over his hair. ¡°Nothing at all.¡±


    ¡°Every muscle in your body just locked up.¡±


    I force out a breath. ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ good at enjoying that particr act.¡±


    Nick frowns. Framed by my bare thighs and still in his button-down shirt, the view is overwhelming. ¡°Why not?¡±


    God, this is mortifying. Other guys never noticed that I didn¡¯t particrly enjoy it. Why did he have to be different?


    ¡°I just¡­ I can¡¯t get out of my head.¡± Grabbing one of the offensive pillows, I sp it over my head. ¡°I never have. I¡¯m just thinking about how you must be¡­ well, waiting for me to finish, and that you might not enjoy it.¡±


    It¡¯s so embarrassing said out loud. The wish to take it back, to continue ying a strong and empowered and badass woman, is so overwhelming it nearly chokes me.


    This certainly wasn¡¯t the easy sex he no doubt wanted.


    The pillow is ripped away and then he¡¯s there, dark eyes burning. Is that anger? ¡°Has a man ever told you that? Made you feel like that?¡±


    Well, this just keeps getting worse, doesn¡¯t it? ¡°Not in so many words,¡± I say, ¡°but¡­ kind of?¡±


    My first boyfriend never went down on me, and most other men had only done it in a perfunctory fashion. Like an appetizer they reluctantly had to get through before the main course.


    ¡°Fools,¡± Nick says darkly.


    ¡°Yeah. Well, that¡¯s why, I guess.¡±


    Still watching me, Nick¡¯s hand starts stroking, right where his mouth had just been. Long fingers part and then circle. ¡°But you enjoy this?¡±


    I nod. Speaking is difficult when he¡¯s touching me-oh-right there.


    Spection dances in his gaze, and something else, something I recognize as the love of a challenge. He¡¯s always been one for impossible odds.


    ¡°Nick¡­¡± I warn, but it¡¯s no use. He settles back between my legs, but he doesn¡¯t use his mouth. He touches me leisurely instead.


    ¡°Do you know how much touching you turns me on?¡± His voice, usually gravelly, is a dark purr now. I reach for the pillow again and clutch it to my face.


    His voice reaches me still, even as his fingers continue their sweet, sweet torture. ¡°I¡¯d imagined it, before the Fashion Week party. What it would feel like to do this.¡±


    And then his fingers dip lower and one sinks deliciously deep inside me. I push the pillow away, needing to see him, and the sight nearly breaks me.


    His gaze is fixed between my legs and on the hand currently pleasuring me. ¡°Fuck, ir, you¡¯re so gorgeous.¡±


    Thepliment rings in my head, the word bouncing in my skull. Gorgeous. My legs rx at the same time as my breathing grows faster.


    ¡°I won¡¯t go down on you again until you tell me I can,¡± he continues, the heat of his breath washing over my skin. ¡°But believe me when I tell you I want to. Your taste, the feel of you against my tongue¡­¡±


    One of his hands reaches up to find my breast. My nipple is hard underneath the fabric of my bra and he pushes it away. Combined with his words, with the fingers he¡¯s using in me, on me¡­


    ¡°Yes,¡± he murmurs. ¡°That¡¯s it, ir. You¡¯re so pretty here, you won¡¯t believe it, if only you knew¡­¡±


    I don¡¯t think he knows what he¡¯s saying anymore, but it¡¯s okay, because I¡¯m almost beyond hearing. Pleasure rises and crests and I shatter against his hand, my orgasm racing through me.


    And all the while Nick continues touching me and watching me and murmuring something in a low voice. I force my breathing to slow enough to hear the words.


    ¡°Self-conscious,¡± he¡¯s muttering. ¡°A woman like this. Ridiculous.¡±


    As soon as my limbs work again, I reach for him. ¡°Come here.¡±


    He climbs up my body with a faint shake of his head. ¡°We¡¯re going to work on that,¡± he vows, kissing me with a passion that reminds me that he hasn¡¯t gotten his release yet. And I kiss him back with everything I am.


    We¡¯re going to work on this? That means he¡¯s predicting more of this, despite what he¡¯d said in the car earlier.N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    I tug at his shirt. ¡°Isn¡¯t it my time to make you fall apart?¡±


    His smile is wicked. ¡°I have no problem with receiving oral sex,¡± he drawls. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to demonstrate.¡±


    I roll my eyes even as the impressive length of him presses against my stomach. His suggestion is interesting¡­ Last time, I hadn¡¯t had a chance to even see it.


    ¡°Asking for pleasure.¡± I shake my head in pretend censure, even as I push his shirt off. ¡°Such bad manners.¡±


    ¡°Not all of us were raised right.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 33

    I flip him around and he lets me, pulling me into a straddling position. ¡°Say the magic word.¡±


    He tugs my bra off. ¡°Now.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not the one.¡±


    He falls back on the bed with a long-suffering sigh. ¡°This is not a proportional response, ir.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that hard to say, is it?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just very, very hard.¡± He rolls his hips for added emphasis, and yes, it most definitely is.


    I decide to take pity on him. For one, I want to be in control. It¡¯s time to prove that this an equal ying field.


    But more importantly¡­ the smile on his face is one to keep.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to work on your manners,¡± I say, moving down to undo his zipper. He groans as my nails rake him through the fabric.


    ¡°Please,¡± he says.


    ¡°Please,¡± I say. The word burns on the way out, but it¡¯s nothingpared to the now painful ache of my cock. Having tasted her, teased her, seen her¡­


    I need her.


    ir smiles and pulls down the zipper to my pants. My view is even better from this angle-the curves of her corbones, the glory of her round breasts, the red hips. She¡¯s wearing nothing but those pathetically small panties, and they¡¯re still pushed to the side.


    The perfection of her is near overwhelming. Seattle¡¯s golden socialite, perfect hostess, style icon.


    She has a smattering of tiny birthmarks on her right hip. I know that now. I wonder how many others do.


    Looking up at me, she runs her finger along the outline of my cock through my boxers. It feels good, but the smile on her face at my answering groan feels even better.


    It chases away any lingering thoughts that I¡¯d been too rough in the closet the other day. No, every time I¡¯m foolish enough to think of ir Porter as someone fragile, someone to be careful around, she disavows me of that notion.


    She always goes toe to toe and eye to eye.


    ir finally pulls my boxers down and closes her hand around me. The grip is teasing in its faintness, and I must have made some sort of sound, because she looks up at me.


    ¡°You¡¯re big,¡± shements. And damn it, but the matter-of-factness in her voice makes me feel ten feet tall. She¡¯s stating it like a fact-not apliment.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± The next wordse through gritted teeth as she begins to stroke. ¡°Did I hurt you the other day?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says, and I resist the urge to smile. ir would never admit to that, even if I had. ¡°It¡¯ll just take getting used to.¡±


    Again, the swell of pure masculine pride that courses through me is overwhelming. It¡¯s not an emotion I¡¯m proud of, but it¡¯s there, and damn if it doesn¡¯t make me grow even harder. ¡°Something else we¡¯ll have to practice on,¡± I say.


    And then her hand is reced by something warm and wet and I look down to find her lips around me.


    It takes everything I am to force myself to lie still and endure. Golden hair spills around her, on my thighs and stomach, covering me in beauty. I reach out and it slips through my fingers like silk.


    ¡°ir¡­¡±


    She doesn¡¯t respond, but honey-brown eyes lift to meet mine. Seeing her like that is enough to send need pounding down my spine again. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve wanted a woman this much.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± The word slips out. She¡¯s moving faster now, and her mouth is enthusiastic and warm and damn when her tongue moves like that¡­


    ¡°See?¡± I mumble. ¡°This is how you enjoy oral.¡±


    She releases me just long enough to shoot me a disparaging look. ¡°Thank you, sensei,¡± she says, her voice dripping with syrupy sarcasm, and I bark augh. Then her mouth is back and I¡¯m not thinking anymore.


    The urge to keep going is strong. To fist a hand in her hair, to take what she¡¯s offering for as long as it takes. The idea of finishing inside her mouth is enough to make my balls twitch.


    But we have practicing to do. And it¡¯s ir, and it¡¯s only the second time, and I¡¯m supposed to show her why this is a good idea and should absolutely continue.


    I reach down and grip her shoulders. I need her beneath me, her legs wrapped around me, to see her eyes as I push in.


    ¡°Inside you,¡± I tell her. It¡¯s no effort at all to pull her up, her lithe body against mine. I tug her flimsy panties down her legs and off. Pretty as they are, she¡¯s far, far prettier.


    But when I move to turn us over, she twists in my arms. ¡°No.¡±


    She returns to her straddle instead. Seeing the protest in my eyes, she puts a hand on my chest and pushes. ¡°Stay.¡±


    I groan at themand but¡­ amazingly, I obey. The angle does give me the most stunning visual as she rises up, gripping my cock, guiding it inside. I grab her hips and help her sink slowly down.


    Inch after inch of me disappears.


    I don¡¯t know what¡¯s best-the look in her eyes as I stretch her out or the tight, warm heat of her surrounding me. Together they bring my blood to a boil.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± she sighs. ¡°I¡¯ll get used to you.¡±


    ¡°All you need is practice.¡± I reach down and rub my thumb against the top of her, igniting her own pleasure again. ir¡¯s soft moans are the only sound as she begins to move, her hips sliding up and down on me. Her hair is a golden halo around her.


    ¡°You¡¯re not used to being ridden,¡± she says, as if that¡¯s not a ludicrous statement, as if it doesn¡¯t send measures of unease and lust through me at the same time.


    So that¡¯s what this is about?


    She wants to be in control?


    If she thinks this position is one where I¡¯m at a disadvantage, she has it all wrong.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    I reach up and cup her breasts. Her nipples immediately stand to attention, begging for my mouth. Rising up to suck her nipple into my mouth is simple enough.


    So is tugging at her hair, kissing her skin, letting my hands run over the impossible softness of her. It¡¯s not long before she¡¯s down on her elbows and her hair is a curtain around us as I¡¯m kissing her, holding her, my hips thrusting from beneath.


    And when it¡¯s over, as pleasure spreads from my spine to my legs after my own release, she drapes herself over me. I wrap my arms around her and feel the beating of her heart, hearing the echo of my own in my ears.


    ¡°Well,¡± she murmurs, ¡°I think I¡¯ll enjoy this kind of practice.¡±


    I close my eyes and don¡¯t let myself consider what we¡¯ve done, what this will lead to, how it¡¯ll inevitably end. The disappointment in Cole¡¯s eyes-the disappointment in ir¡¯s eyes.

 Billion Dollar Beast 34

    ¡°Are you on birth control?¡± I ask instead. A question I should have asked earlier, but seeing as I was doing everything wrong, what was one more mistake?


    ir nods, rising to her elbows. Her cheeks are flushed.


    ¡°Good.¡± I wince slightly as she shifts and I slip out of her heat. She stretches out beside me, her hand running along my stomach. I close my eyes and let her explore.


    It¡¯s perilously close to cuddling, this, and even more of a bad idea than what we¡¯ve just done. I¡¯m still not strong enough to move away, the feeling of her soft hand on my skin like magic.


    So I don¡¯t. I lie there instead, looking up at the ceiling and trying to catch my bearings. In two days, I have slept with her exactly twice, and I¡¯m still no closer to being sated. If eight years of admiring her from afar had resulted in anything, it wouldn¡¯t be undone in a few bouts of passion.


    But the facts remain.


    She¡¯s my only friend¡¯s little sister.


    She¡¯s not interested in anything long-term.


    And I¡¯m decidedly not the man likely to seed in long-term.


    I close my eyes, as if the darkness beckoning can chase those facts away. It doesn¡¯t, but her hand on my skin very nearly aplishes the same thing.


    ¡°You¡¯ve disappeared,¡± she murmurs. I should move away. I should leave.


    I can¡¯t bring myself to do either.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡±


    ¡°What about?¡±


    I open my eyes. She¡¯s on her elbow beside me, the smile on her face sweet and kind and so much more than I deserve. She might not have a crush on me anymore, but I¡¯ll be damned if she gets hurt in any way because of this, because of me.


    ¡°About what way I¡¯m going to give you your third orgasm,¡± I say.


    Her smile widens. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯lle up with something.¡±


    Gripping her around the waist, I pull her against me. How can a body be so supple, strong and soft at the same time? ¡°Well, my favorite method is off-limits for now. I guess I¡¯ll just have to use my imagination.¡±


    Herughter of delight as I flip us over banishes my negative thoughts entirely. There are some times in a man¡¯s life when he can¡¯t be anywhere but in the present, and at present, that¡¯s a pretty damn good ce to be.


    ¡°I should get going.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± ir stretches out on the bed beside me and watches as I get dressed. ¡°You don¡¯t have to leave right away, you know.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do,¡± I say wryly, ¡°or you¡¯ll y twenty questions with me again.¡±


    ¡°And is that so terrible?¡±


    Sheughs at my emphatic response. ¡°Fine, be a mystery then.¡±


    ¡°You like me like that.¡± I drain the brandy in one gulp and then curse myself in the next. Now I can¡¯t drive home, and I¡¯ll have to send someone for the car. She has me so rattled it¡¯s hard to focus.


    ¡°I do,¡± she says,ing up behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist. I stand there for a moment, letting her hug me. ¡°But I¡¯ll crack you eventually.¡±


    I break free from her hold and head to the door. ¡°I¡¯ll see you at work tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you will.¡± ir leans against the couch, stillpletely nude, her crossed arms propping up her breasts. Does she know how the pose tempts me? Judging by the crooked smile she aims my way, she does, and it¡¯s deliberate.


    ¡°Go to bed,¡± I tell her darkly.


    ¡°I will,¡± she says. ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯reing tomorrow, right?¡±


    I tug at the cor of my shirt. Tomorrow, when we have to spend yet another evening in thepany of Cole and Skye. My nerves will be shot to hell after that experience-being around her brother now feels like lying. ¡°Yes,¡± I say, but not with any real excitement.


    Her smile widens. ¡°Good. Come over here first.¡±


    ¡°Are you ordering me around now?¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    ¡°It¡¯s a suggestion,¡± she offers. ¡°But a good one. I take my practice very seriously, you know.¡±


    I shake my head at that, but there¡¯s no stopping the wry smile her words bring out. ¡°I¡¯ll be here.¡±


    Seattle is quiet as I drive back to my apartment. The space looks different, somehow, seeing it with ir¡¯sments in mind. I suppose it is sparse. The living room has a giant TV for sports games. The couch doesn¡¯t have a single superfluous pillow.


    Damn it. I¡¯d never had difficulty finding femalepany. Not in my teenage years, not when I¡¯d shot up like a weed and grown broad across the chest. Not in university, despite my poor grades and even poorer background. And not since I started making more money than I know what to do with.


    But the women I go to bed with want me for my reputation. The name, the fame. They expect me to be dominant and harsh and big and strong. And for years, ying that role was enough. It was predictable. It was safe. It was shallow.


    ir is different. She¡¯dughed in bed with me tonight. Somehow, I was funny with her around. I go to bed with the scent of her hair still clinging to me and sleep deeper than I have in months. Funny how doing the wrong thing can feel so right.


    When Cole had said that she used to have a crush on me¡­


    The first thought was, What have I done? If this meant something to her-something real, something deep, something fragile-and I¡¯d indulged in having her¡­


    But she¡¯d disavowed me of those illusions. She¡¯d as good as admitted it was just one of Cole¡¯s jokes. Exactly what I wanted to hear-I couldn¡¯t in good conscience have followed her up if it¡¯d been true. And yet, the first thing I¡¯d felt when she said it hadn¡¯t been triumph.


    It had been disappointment.


    ¡°Come here.¡± The darkmand in Nick¡¯s voice is impossible to resist. I cross the living room to him, my hairbrush still in hand, and surprise him by climbing into hisp, one knee on either side.


    ¡°Are you going to make uste?¡± I ask.


    ¡°To an event I didn¡¯t want to go to in the first ce?¡± Nick reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair, undoing the hard work I¡¯d just done with therge curling iron. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Cole and Skye asked us both,¡± I point out.


    ¡°He asked me while I was half-dead, stumbling off the tennis court.¡± Nick¡¯s eyes are locked on my neck as his thumb moves over my pulse. It quickens at his touch. ¡°I¡¯d near forgotten all about it until you reminded me yesterday.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 35

    ¡°Are you that against opera?¡±


    ¡°Can you even be against the opera? It¡¯s not a cause you can champion.¡±


    ¡°Of course it is. That¡¯s what Cole¡¯s doing tonight,¡± I protest. My brother had donated generously to the Seattle Opera and was now rewarded with a private box on opening night. Although, knowing him, it had probably been forworking or business and not so much for a genuine love of the art.


    ¡°You blue bloods,¡± Nick says dryly. ¡°I should never have gotten involved with you.¡±


    I straighten the cor of his tux and enjoy the feel of hisrge body against mine, the touch casual and reassuring. My heart does a double-take when he presses a soft kiss to my cheek.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you happy you gave me a chance? I¡¯m not so awful when you get to know me.¡±


    He leans back against the couch and watches me through half-lidded eyes,rge hands gripping my bare waist. My skin is still damp from the shower, dressed only in underwear.


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re so much worse.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Yes, I am. And you spent years disliking me in vain.¡±


    ¡°You thought I didn¡¯t like you?¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°In eight years, you¡¯ve never once responded to any of my attempts at friendship. None of my invitations to events. No attempts at conversation.¡±


    Nick is quiet for a beat. His hands move instead, sending shivers across my skin as they trail my waist, my breasts, my shoulders. ¡°It was simple self-preservation,¡± he says quietly. ¡°Not dislike at all.¡±


    My heart skips a beat.


    The words hover on my tongue. You know that crush I said was over? Well, I am over it-it¡¯s now full-blown infatuation.


    But I can¡¯t imagine anything that would make Nick run away from me faster. Hisck ofmitment is legendary.


    ¡°Self-preservation, huh.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He leans forward and kisses my corbone. ¡°Which you should cultivate. If you want to make it to the opera in time, and if you are too tender, you should go get dressed before my self-restraint snapspletely.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m too tender?¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    His fingers smooth up my inner thigh. ¡°We did a lot of practicing yesterday. Aren¡¯t you?¡±


    I am, in fact, but admitting that¡­ ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then up you go. Put on a dress.¡±


    But I don¡¯t. My heart swells instead and I press my lips to the strong column of his throat. His skin is warm and I speak the thought aloud. ¡°Howe you¡¯re always so warm?¡±


    Big hands smooth over my back. ¡°Go get dressed.¡±


    ¡°Come on.¡± I kiss my way up to his ear. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°Why I¡¯m warm?¡± There¡¯s quiet amusement in his voice.


    ¡°Yes. I demand an exnation.¡±


    His hands skate down the length of my arms with the lightest of touches. ¡°Why are you so soft? It makes no sense. Skin shouldn¡¯t be that soft. Can you answer me that?¡±


    I shake my head, his handing up to cup my cheek. ¡°Some things have no answer.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    I feel the faint scarring on the inside of his palm. Taking his hand in both of mine, I turn it gently palm-side up, looking at the faint raised marks.


    Nick doesn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°How did you get these scars?¡± I ask the question lightly, like the answer isn¡¯t important. Like I haven¡¯t been curious for eight years straight.


    Nick¡¯s hand curls in mine. ¡°It was a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for asking. I know you don¡¯t want to talk about¡­ anything rting to yourself, really. But I figured, you saw me looking and it was probably clear that I wondered, and it felt ruder to not ask when you already know I¡¯m thinking about it. You know?¡±


    A faint curl to his lip. Damn man for smiling so rarely that when he does, itpletely takes my breath away. ¡°You don¡¯t talk this way to everyone.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re forward with most people, I¡¯ll give you that. And chatty and breezy and all that. But this nervous sort of rambling? Only with me.¡±


    I put his hand back in my hair and, obediently, he runs his fingers through it. It buys me time, but only a little. We¡¯re closer to some truths that would be better left untouched.


    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m more nervous with you.¡±


    His hand stops only for a moment, before it continues its slow, sensual movement. ¡°I see.¡±


    That¡¯s all he says. I focus on the buttons of his shirt instead, undoing them one at a time, rewarded by the sight of his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m getting more and more used to you each time.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s a good thing?¡±


    I force lightness into my voice. ¡°Isn¡¯t it? Where do you see this going, Nick?¡±


    His hands continue down to grip my waist tightly. Despite the strong hold, I feel like I¡¯m floating, waiting for the answer, for the words I know wille. Have I made myself too vulnerable? I know he¡¯s not a man I¡¯ll get to keep.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± he says finally. The bleakness in his voice brings out my own.


    ¡°Me neither,¡± I murmur. ¡°The only thing we know for certain is that it¡¯s supposed to stay a secret.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes.¡± Nick¡¯s hands brace on either side of my waist. ¡°And that we still have a lot of practicing to do.¡±


    I roll my hips over the clear evidence of what we need to practice on, and he groans. ¡°Don¡¯t. I already said-we have to leave soon, you¡¯re sore, and there¡¯s not nearly enough time for a proper training session.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I press my lips to his cheek. He¡¯s not a man to easily ept tenderness, and now that he is, I¡¯m having a very hard to time tearing myself away. ¡°Help me choose a dress?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°If I have to watch you zip and unzip, there is no way you¡¯reing out of your closet unravished.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 36

    ¡°Fine,¡± I grumble. ¡°Be that way.¡± But I¡¯m smiling at him the entire way back into my closet. The ck, silken dress I¡¯d picked out is draped over the back of a chair, the heels I¡¯d chosen waiting next to them. The ridiculous grin on my face refuses to fade.


    Yes, the infatuation is real, all right.


    ¡°Tell me something!¡± I call.


    I wiggle my hips to get into the dress. ¡°What was your favorite subject in school?¡±


    ¡°No more twenty questions!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s thest question.¡± I lie, slipping my feet into the nude heels. Onest look in the mirror tells me I¡¯ve chosen correctly. The dress had been an expensive purchase, but it¡¯s made for asions like this. Long and with an asymmetrical bodice, narrow in the waist before billowing out around my legs. My hair is half-up, half-down, blonde ringlets falling over the one bare shoulder.


    ¡°Fine.¡± His voice is closer, teasing now. ¡°Recess.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a subject. Can you do up my zipper?¡±


    Nick appears in the door to my closet and motions for me to turn around. ¡°Math, then.¡±


    ¡°Math? That was my least favorite.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised.¡± His hands skate down my waist to pull me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ¡°You look gorgeous. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°I hate that we have to take two cars,¡± I say. The idea of the two of us walking in together, my arm on his, a pair¡­ ¡°Twice the environmental impact, you know.¡±


    Nick doesn¡¯t seem fazed by my words. His voice grows hard instead, and my vain hope that he¡¯ll say screw it, let¡¯s go together evaporates. ¡°Well, do you want your brother to find out?¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll take different cars.¡± His voice softens as he holds the door open for me. ¡°But I¡¯ll be sitting right next to you during the performance.¡±


    Opening night at the Seattle Opera is a beautiful thing. A string quartet ys in the spacious lobby, the notes rising to the zed ceiling above. An attendant hands me a ss of champagne and points me to the East Wing. ¡°Your brother is over there, miss.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± It¡¯s an odd thing to be recognized so easily. It¡¯s been years now, and it¡¯s still not something I¡¯m entirely used to. Cole¡¯s fame and my own interest in fashion has somehow made us, well, notable.


    Nick¡¯s waiting with Cole and Skye, as he should be, leaving my ce five minutes before me.


    We staunchly ignore one another.


    Skye is wearing a billowing dress that hides her faint baby bump. She looks gorgeous, and I tell her that, but she onlyughs. ¡°I do my best to keep up with the rest of you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re more than keeping up!¡± I say.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Cole breathes. ¡°Will you believe it from ir, if you don¡¯t from me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re very kind,¡± Skye tells me with a wink. Then her eyes widen, looking from me to Nick. ¡°Why, look at that. The two of you match.¡±


    I nce from Nick¡¯s all-ck dinner jacket, including an inky pocket square, to my own dress in ebony silk. ¡°I suppose we do,¡± I say, not looking at Nick. I hope he doesn¡¯t realize it had been intentional on my part-a foolish fancy, perhaps.


    Nick¡¯s voice drops into unexpected yfulness. ¡°I told ir that today was my day to wear ck,¡± he says to Skye. ¡°She never listens.¡±


    We¡¯re among the first to be escorted to our seats. I¡¯m faintly aware that other guests are looking at us, but the feeling of Nick walking beside me quickly overshadows that. It¡¯s hard to focus on anything else when he¡¯s near.


    He was right, too-he does take the seat beside me.


    And as darkness falls, as the orchestra begins to y and the performers leap onto stage, electricity builds.


    I want to tease him about the way he has to fold his long legs in the enclosed space. Half my time is spent admiring the performance and the other half wondering if I dare reach out for his hand.


    I don¡¯t. But I want it noted that it took a lot of self-discipline.


    An attendant is waiting for us when intermission begins. The entire second floor has been transformed into a champagne bar and mingling area, and we have a table reserved.


    ¡°This is excellent,¡± Cole says, observing the people gathered. No doubt he¡¯s seeing them as a smorgasbord of important people he can talk to. ¡°Oh, look at that. The new architects for the New York Opera are here. I should go over and say hello¡­¡± He keeps Skye by his side as he strides over. I shake my head at him, butunch into mingling of my own.


    I¡¯m deep into a conversation with fashion editor Grace Moras about the performance when it hits me that I haven¡¯t seen Nick for a while. He hates things like this. Has he slipped out?


    But when I spot him, I almost wish I hadn¡¯t.


    The woman he¡¯s talking to is easy to recognize. Dark hair, purple dress, a hand resting on his arm. I¡¯ve seen her before-she¡¯s one of the gossip journalists at the city newspaper.


    And I know they¡¯ve been involved before. Hollow, I think again. It¡¯s uncharitable of me, but I¡¯d chalk her right up in the category of women who only want his money and reputation.


    The ss in my hand grows tight with my grip.


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    I force my focus back to Grace, to this moment. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, I thought I saw¡­ forgive me. What did you say?¡±


    Her smile is amused. ¡°I said, what¡¯s next for you? What¡¯s new on the horizon?¡±


    There¡¯s no exnation for why the words tumble out of my mouth. I haven¡¯t told anyone, but here I am, telling her.


    ¡°I¡¯m nning a brandunch.¡± So calmly, too.


    Her eyebrows shoot high. ¡°You are?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s been in the works for a long time, and it¡¯s now in the final stages.¡±


    ¡°Can you hint at anything? What is it about?¡±


    Iugh, though it¡¯s a bit forced. ¡°Oh, I can¡¯t say another word, not yet. But you¡¯ll be amongst the first to know, of course.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to that.¡± She touches her ss to mine. Had that been sarcasm in her voice? I shake the suspicion off as a product of my own insecurities.


    I head back to the box early. Neither Skye nor Cole is anywhere to be seen, no doubt still working the floor.


    ¡°Hey.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns this.


    A hand flies to my throat. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Waiting for you.¡± Nick¡¯s hands find my waist easily in the darkness of our box. ¡°You really do look gorgeous in that dress, you know.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 37

    My irritation almost melts away at his touch. But then I remember how he¡¯d let her touch him, and my jealousy is as irrational as it¡¯s infuriating.


    A hand tips my head back. ¡°No questions for me?¡±


    There¡¯s only one, and it¡¯s on the tip of my tongue. I bite it back. ¡°Cole coulde back any moment.¡±


    ¡°He was talking to the mayor,st I saw. He won¡¯t return before the second bell, and the first hasn¡¯t rung yet.¡±


    My hand digs into the fabric of his sleeve, feeling the solid, firm muscle of his forearm beneath. I won¡¯t ask, I won¡¯t ask.


    ¡°Did you match our outfits on purpose?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Did you speak to your ex out there on purpose?¡±


    His thumb rubs a small circle over my ribs. ¡°My ex?¡±


    ¡°The woman in purple.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Riley.¡± His voice is amused, damn him. ¡°That was ages ago, and we were never in a rtionship.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I murmur. ¡°You don¡¯t do rtionships.¡±


    ¡°Are you jealous, ir?¡±


    I scoff, trying to regain some small portion of my dignity. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you are. And you were the one who said your old crush was gone.¡± He turns us around, my back against the velvet-lined wall, his bodyrge against mine. ¡°Are you sure that was the truth?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯mpletely certain.¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    His head dips and his lips make contact with my neck, right below my ear. He¡¯s not fighting fair. ¡°Then why would it bother you?¡±


    ¡°Why did Andr¨¦ bother you?¡± It takes effort to phrase the sentence, with Nick¡¯s lips trailing my exposed corbone.


    ¡°You know the answer to that.¡± His voice is a dark caress against my skin.


    My eyes flutter closed when his lips find mine. They coax and press and tease, kissing me with expert precision. When he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine, my heart is a stampede in my chest. ¡°Well,¡± I murmur. ¡°In that case, you already know the answer to your question. My crush never disappeared.¡±


    His breath catches.


    There it is. He knows. My crush is more alive than it¡¯s ever been, humming between us, drawing me to him with every breath I take-strengthened by the kiss.


    ¡°ir, I-¡±


    The bell rings out, calling for the end of intermission. It drowns out whatever words might have followed. Nick steps back, and just in time, because the door to the box swings open a few secondster.


    The look in Nick¡¯s eyes stays with me for the rest of the show. It hadn¡¯t been one of happiness or triumph. No, he¡¯d looked at me like I was a puzzle he couldn¡¯t understand, a prize he couldn¡¯t have, a treasure that just slipped further out of his grasp.


    There had been no joy in those eyes.


    Nick doesn¡¯t look at me for the entire second act. Part of me can exin that away-my brother is three feet away-but another part is silently begging him to just turn his head once.


    As it turns out, silent begging usually falls on deaf ears. Who knew?


    There¡¯s no hope of talking to him on our way out of the opera, either. And what would I say if there was? Take back the answer to his question? No-it¡¯s the truth.


    We emerge out on the sidewalk after the performance, three chatty individuals and one very silent.


    ¡°That was incredible.¡± Skye¡¯s eyes are wide, hands knotting the belt of her jacket. ¡°I had no idea it would be so funny!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s one of Donizetti¡¯sedies, you know.¡± Cole throws an arm around her shoulder. ¡°One would hope it¡¯s funny.¡±


    She rolls her eyes at his teasing and turns to me for support. ¡°Yes, well, I was just surprised that centuries¡¯ old humor still holds up.¡±


    I can¡¯t resist. ¡°You read centuries¡¯ old books all the time.¡±


    Skye narrows her eyes and looks between us. ¡°I think I like it better when you¡¯re not on the same team. Nick, help me out.¡±


    At her words, Nick turns his gaze back to us and the conversation at hand. ¡°Whatever you need,¡± he says.


    Cole chuckles. ¡°Man, you¡¯re not listening at all. Was the opera that bad for you, then?¡±


    Nick¡¯s jaw tightens. ¡°No, not at all.¡±


    ¡°A love potion,¡± Skye says with a sigh. ¡°The ultimate plot device. It was a bad idea from the start.¡±


    ¡°Well, Nemorino thought he didn¡¯t have a choice,¡± I say, sympathetic for the main character¡¯s struggles with unrequited love.


    ¡°There¡¯s always a choice,¡± Skye says. ¡°He could simply have exined to her what he felt.¡±


    ¡°As any self-respecting man would,¡± my brother agrees. He tucks Skye in closer to his body. She responds in kind, ncing up at him. The quick look is filled with so much emotion that for the first time in ages I have to look away.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to head home,¡± he says. ¡°Charles should be here any second with the car. Who wants to be dropped off?¡±


    Nick shakes his head. ¡°Thanks, but I have ns.¡±


    ¡°All right. Thanks foring.¡± Cole reaches out and gives Nick a p on the shoulder. ¡°See you on Thursday, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You won¡¯t win this one, I¡¯m telling you.¡±


    Cole¡¯s grin is wide. ¡°Well in that case, I¡¯m not listening. ir? Going home?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Nick might be staying out, but I¡¯m not. The night has been exciting enough as it is, and thest thing I want is to hang around in the hopes of being included in histe-night ns. Besides, it¡¯s not like we¡¯ve defined anything, right? Going home is a good n.


    Apparently it wasn¡¯t.


    No sooner have I closed the front door behind me than there¡¯s a furious knocking on it. Nick is there, his jaw working. ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°What was what?¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 38

    He pushes his way into my apartment. ¡°Going home, when I had a n for us after.¡±


    I cross my arms over my chest. ¡°How was I supposed to know that?¡±


    ¡°Because I said, I have ns.¡±


    Dear God, save me from the idiocy of men. ¡°And that was code somehow? When had we decided that?¡±


    He tugs at the cor of his shirt and sinks down onto my couch. His arm drapes over a score of decorative pillows but for once, he doesn¡¯t scowl at them, keeping his gaze fixed on me. ¡°So your crush never went away,¡± he says.


    ¡°That¡¯s what this is about?¡±


    His hand at his cor tugs sharply and the bowtiees undone, the tails hanging down his chest. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me when I asked you the first time?¡±


    ¡°You mean after my brother made it into a joke?¡± I sit down on the arm of the sofa, wrapping my arms around myself. ¡°Why do you think?¡±


    ¡°Damn it.¡± He runs a hand over his hair.


    ¡°Does it matter that much?¡± I have to give it to my voice-it¡¯s deceptively calm.


    ¡°Yes. Because¡­ if you¡¯re emotionally involved, I¡¯m going to hurt you somehow. I always do.¡± He leans his head against the back of the couch. ¡°Fucking up rtionships is what I do.¡±


    I lower my voice. ¡°Why would you think that?¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    The gaze he sends me is scathing, but it doesn¡¯t hurt. It¡¯s clear it¡¯s not me he¡¯s angry at. ¡°History tends to repeat itself.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to.¡± I slide down onto the couch next to him. ¡°And you know, you¡¯re not responsible for my emotions. Only I am.¡±


    His hand reaches out andnds on my knee. The silk of my dress has risen up and the scars on his palm tickle against my skin. ¡°You say that now.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll say it again, even when it¡¯s painful. So I¡¯ve admired you from afar for a long time.¡± I shrug, even though I¡¯m feeling anything but s¨¦. ¡°So what?¡±


    His thumb rubs a small circle on my skin. ¡°So I don¡¯t want you to feel taken advantage of. That I offered something I don¡¯t know if I can live up to.¡±


    This is too much. I hitch my dress up and climb onto him, straddling him just like I had earlier this evening. Mere hours ago, perhaps, but it feels like a different night entirely.


    ¡°When did you get so morose?¡± I demand. ¡°Trust me enough to let me look out for my own emotions and best interest, okay? And right now, I want to be with you.¡±


    Hisrge handse up to grip my waist. With his head still resting on the back of the couch, Nick¡¯s eyes areden with intensity.


    It¡¯s worth it. Anything that mighte after this is worth it, just to be looked at like that by him.


    ¡°Say thatst bit again,¡± he says.


    ¡°I want to be with you?¡±


    I smile. ¡°Asking for praise, Nick. How unlike you. But okay.¡± I press my lips to his cheek. ¡°I want to be with you.¡±


    ¡°Again.¡± His hands find the hem of my dress and stroke up my outer thighs.


    ¡°I want to be with you.¡±


    A faint shiver runs through his body, so faint I almost think I¡¯ve imagined it. He presses his lips to my neck. ¡°And God help me, but I want you too.¡±


    I run my fingers over his scalp and he gives a low groan. ¡°That¡¯s not a crime.¡±


    ¡°Considering that your brother will kill me for it, yes, it is.¡±


    There¡¯s a million things I want to ask. Why does he think Cole will react so strongly? What parts of himself does he hide? But then his lips find mine and the thoughts float away, with nothing left to anchor them.


    His kiss is different this time. It¡¯s deep, slow, tender. I kiss him back just the same, pouring out all the emotion I¡¯d tried to hide from him before. Yes, I tell him with my lips. I like you. Always have. Probably always will.


    His body shudders against mine when I take his hand and guide it to my breast. If it gives him permission or strength, I don¡¯t know, but a secondter I¡¯m lifted up against his body and carried slowly through my apartment.


    Something tells me it¡¯ll be different this time. That the way our bodies yearn to be closer is deeper, that our conversation is still continuing, just with our touch as thenguage of choice.


    Come here, I tell him with my hands on his shoulders. Don¡¯t be afraid.


    I¡¯m not, his mouth responds, kissing me so deeply there¡¯s no denying his passion. I¡¯m afraid for you.


    And when he strips the dress from me, when I lie there in nothing but my underwear and his dark gaze, I feel morefortable than I ever have before. Look at me, I tell him, stretching my hands above my head and arching my back. All yours.


    His hands are reverent when they touch the edge of my bra, searching around my back for the sp. He teases the fabric off my skin and reces it with his lips. They¡¯re warm and soft when they close around my nipple.


    That such a simple thing can be felt so strongly is magic. It spreads through my body, through my torso, heat pooling in my stomach and lower still. I grip his head and lose myself in the sensation.


    I¡¯m dimly aware of his hands finding my panties, of them being tugged down my legs, of his mouth meeting mine again. ¡°Let me go down on you,¡± he murmurs, his fingers searching between my legs. I gasp as he presses down with the heel of his hand. ¡°You can tell me to stop if you need me to. Anytime.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I whisper, because there¡¯s no resistance left, and because being self-conscious around Nick is impossible. He chases all such thoughts away.


    And when he settles between my legs¡­ well, for the first time, I don¡¯t instinctively seek to close them. The skin of my thighs against his tanned shoulders excites me instead. So does his dark hair, hisrge hands finding my hips to hold me, not to pin, but to secure.


    And when he puts his tongue to use¡­ well, I close my eyes and surrender. I force the thoughts away, like I¡¯ve tried to do so many times before, and amazingly¡­ they obey. My self-conscious brain doesn¡¯t stand a chance against his strength.


    His movements are slow, leisurely. So is his tongue. And for the few moments he lifts his mouth from me to speak, those words¡­ they¡¯re like a balm across my skin. Compliments. About how good I taste, how he could do this forever, how he enjoys this.


    We¡¯re still carrying on the conversation from earlier, all right. And perhaps this is his way of saying things he can¡¯t yet. I drink it in for what it is, and under his hands, Ie apart.


    It¡¯s slow, at first, the building of pleasure. So gradual I¡¯m afraid of acknowledging it for fear it¡¯ll grow wings and fly away. But it doesn¡¯t. He grounds it, teasing my body, making himself at home between my legs. And when he uses his fingers to push inside of me at the same time as his tongue¡­


    It surprises even me, the force of my orgasm. It sweeps through me with a power that leaves my back arched and limbs weak, forcing Nick to press down strongly against my hips.


    Stay, is the message, even as my body is going and going and keeps going.


    And I know then that whatever little crush I had on Nick is long gone. It¡¯s evolved into something much stronger entirely, something I would do anything to explore. The man between my legs, well¡­ I¡¯ve never felt for anyone the way he makes me feel.


    He rests his head on my thigh and gives me a wide, open smile. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°Look at that.¡±


    I reach down and run my fingers over his cheek, over the dark stubble that always coats the lower half of his face. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that happened.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 39

    ¡°I can,¡± he says, pressing a kiss to my skin. ¡°And I was prepared to stay here for a lot longer than that.¡±


    ¡°Did you mean what you said?¡± My question escapes before I can think it through. ¡°While you were¡­¡±


    His smile turns into something wholly masculine, pride and animalismbined. ¡°Yes. Hell, yes.¡±


    ¡°Good God.¡±


    He climbs up my body and I tug at his clothes, because how is he still clothed, and heughs at my eagerness. It makes me even more eager-that he¡¯s here in bed with me andughing with eyes that are lighter than I¡¯ve ever seen.


    He¡¯s so big, sprawled on my bed. The body of a fighter rather than a polished CEO. The animalism that always exudes from him, the one that¡¯s given him an edge in business, is graceful here.


    I run a hand over his back and he turns, pulling me close, his hands ghosting over my skin. I lift my leg but he just slides his own under.This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    Reaching down, I grasp his hardness in my hand. It¡¯s still impressive, rock hard and velvety and impossibly girthy. It makes sense, I suppose. He¡¯s arger-than-usual man. Why wouldn¡¯t that be reflected here?


    ¡°You¡¯re sore.¡± He speaks through gritted teeth. ¡°We don¡¯t need to practice every time, ir.¡±


    ¡°I want to,¡± I murmur back. ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±


    Hisughter rumbles through his chest and into me, and as I stroke, he twitches in my hand. ¡°What a question.¡±


    ¡°We can go slow.¡± My lips find his neck, and then I¡¯m twisting, trying to get my leg over his hip so that we¡¯re better aligned.


    Nick presses me close and ttens his hands against my back. The words he murmurs against my hair are half-muffled. ¡°Women never want me to be gentle.¡±


    I frown, even as I pull him closer. What kind of women has he been with before? Riley, for one, who I¡¯d seen today. The women I¡¯d once generalized as only wanting his money. Perhaps they wanted his reputation, too. The idea of him-the vulture, the business tycoon, the man who destroyed businesses on a whim-didn¡¯t go hand in hand with soft sex.


    His hands trace my spine with a tenderness that makes me want to break. ¡°You can be gentle with me,¡± I murmur.


    And he is. He flips me over softly, settling between my legs, kissing my lips, my cheek, my neck. Reaching down, he guides himself in slowly, letting my body adjust to the size of him again.


    Both of us release the breaths we¡¯d been holding when he¡¯s finally buriedpletely. His hands reach for my thighs, hooking them around his elbows, thrusting slowly. And when it¡¯s too much, hees down on his elbows, his face against my neck.


    It¡¯s deep and slow and sensual, and when he breaks apart, I wrap my legs around him as well as my arms. Not going to let you go, I think. Not ever. Not now.


    I doubt I could.


    If we¡¯re stillmunicating with our bodies, his is saying the same thing. Itforts me more than any of his words ever could.


    When he rises up on his arms and pulls out of me with a soft wince, he doesn¡¯t disappear, either. He lies right next to me and pulls me into his side.


    We don¡¯t speak for a long time, his hands tracingzy patterns on my back. I rest my hand on his chest and enjoying the feeling of his hair through my fingers.


    ¡°You know,¡± he says finally, ¡°every woman asks about the scars on my palm. Every one. And I always tell them.¡±


    It takes effort to make my voice light, but I manage. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me when I asked earlier.¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t. You¡¯re the first woman I didn¡¯t use them with.¡±


    ¡°Use them?¡±


    He sighs. ¡°I got them when I was seventeen, and an absolute idiot. It was thest really bad fight I got into. I¡¯d been asking for it, too, and antagonized the wrong guy. He pushed me through a window. Inded badly and had to brace myself on broken ss. Had to get stitches in both palms.¡±


    It¡¯s more than he¡¯s ever told me about his past. ¡°That sounds painful,¡± I say carefully.


    ¡°It was, a bit. My pride hurt more. I got a sound ass-kicking.¡± He chuckles, but there¡¯s no humor in it. ¡°And when women ask about it, well, I usually leave that part out. I just say that it¡¯s from fighting. And then¡­¡±


    He doesn¡¯t need to continue. I understand-I can see the vision clear enough. Theye to him seeking one thing, only knowing one thing about him, and he delivers. He gives them the narrative. Scarred palms, intense demeanor, rough sex. No rtionships and no strings attached.


    For a moment, I waver between pain and pity. I settle somewhere in the middle, reaching out to grasp his hand in mine. ¡°And they don¡¯t want you to be gentle.¡±


    And perhaps there¡¯s more we don¡¯t say. They don¡¯t actually want me, he might add, were he a more talkative man. They want the fiction. I might have asked more, if I had been braver. But for now, this is enough.


    I rise up on my elbow and trace a finger along his brow, down across a nose I now realize must have been broken at some point, over his lips and the rough cut of his jaw. ¡°You said earlier that you stayed away from me out of self-preservation.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± he says.


    ¡°I can¡¯t promise I won¡¯t hurt you, either. No one has that power. But¡­ I don¡¯t want to. I don¡¯t want toe between you and Cole. I don¡¯t want anything we do to affect your business.¡± My words run out, my mouth widening into a smile. ¡°All I can say is that the time when you were my biggest source of irritation is long, long gone.¡±


    ¡°Funny, that,¡± he says, pulling me closer. ¡°You¡¯re not so irritating anymore, either.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He kisses my still-smiling lips, silencing any furtherment. I don¡¯t mind. Kissing is far preferable.


    And for the first time, he spends the night.


    ir¡¯s hair takes up the better half of her pillow. In the low sunlight streaming in through her window, it¡¯s gold over white cotton, gleaming. One bare shoulder peeks out from underneath the cover. Despite theteness of the season, her skin still carries the summer¡¯s tan.


    She¡¯s breathtaking.


    I turn my gaze away from her sleeping form to the overflowing walk-in-closet. The cacophony of colors and fabrics and sequins feels like an apt description of ir herself. Overflowing with ideas and sparkle.


    I run a hand through my hair. Spending the night at a woman¡¯s ce. When had that happenedst? I honestly can¡¯t recall-and this hadn¡¯t even been a conscious decision. I must have drifted off and then slept like the dead. It should leave me well-rested, but the idea is unsettling.


    I feel disarmed.


    Pushing back the covers, I walk out of her bedroom and into the colorful living room beyond.


    Coffee. Phone. Focus.


    I find a coffee machine in the kitchen and my phone in the pocket of my discarded jacket. There¡¯s a text waiting for me from Cole.


    I push the phone away without looking at what he¡¯s written. The coffee washes some of the guilt away, but not all, the taste bitter and acidic.


    He would not react well to this. The knowledge feels as obvious to me as my own name, as clear as the scars in my palm. Being with ir would irrevocably change our friendship. Even if he grows to ept it-by some miracle of God-I¡¯d always be the friend who went behind his back. Who didn¡¯t tell him straight up.


    And if ir ever had to choose between her brother and me¡­

 Billion Dollar Beast 40

    Well. I take another sip of the scalding-hot coffee. I know where I¡¯d end up in that equation. The path I¡¯m on won¡¯t have a happy ending, and getting off it is the sensible choice, but I can¡¯t for the life of me imagine walking away from ir now.


    Not when the scent of her still clings to my skin and the sweetness of her words echoes in my mind. I want you.


    Impossible? Try out of the damn question.


    While she sleeps, I explore her apartment. The small knickknacks she¡¯s collected. A framed picture of her and herte father skiing, his hand protectively on her shoulder. Skye and Cole¡¯s wedding picture is proudly ced in her bookshelf. I¡¯m not surprised that she has that on disy. The image of ir with tear-glittering eyeses back to me, her reaction to Skye¡¯s pregnancy.


    I pause with my hand on a half-opened door. How had I not seen this before? Another guest room?


    Shameless, relentless, I push it open.


    I¡¯m greeted by a veritable explosion of fabric, clothes, what looks like mood boards and charts¡­ buried underneath it all is something that looks like a desk. The steel corner of an iMac peeks out behind a giant cardboard box.


    Organized chaos, indeed.


    I run my hand over the sleek, skimpy fabric on hangers and try to get a closer look at the pictures she¡¯s pinned to the wall. Above it all is a quote.


    Work in silence, let sess be your noise.


    It makes me smile. Not in amusement, but in recognition of just how ir it is. I can see her with her hair up, printing this out and pinning it up, determination on her features.


    There¡¯s an audible intake of breath behind me. ¡°Nick?¡±


    ir is standing in the doorway. She¡¯s wrapped a robe loosely around her waist. Any sleepiness in her gaze evaporates as she looks from me to my surroundings.


    ¡°Your office?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Her eyes keep darting to the lingerie on hangers, as if I¡¯ve walked in on a crime scene.


    I reach out and touch the silk carefully. ¡°Something you¡¯d rather keep under wraps?¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± I run a finger over thecy cup of a bra. ¡°Although you¡¯re leaving me with a lot of possible options here. Do you work part-time as an amateur lingerie model or something?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? There¡¯s an awful lot of it right here.¡±


    Just as I¡¯d expected, her arms rise to cross over her chest. It¡¯s ir¡¯s ssic attack mode, one I¡¯ve been on the receiving end of for years. I¡¯m d it¡¯s not lost entirely.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re not going to tell me¡­¡±


    She sighs. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you, because then you might tell Cole.¡±


    Unease, at that. There are already too many things I¡¯m forced to keep from him-ir key amongst them. ¡°What makes you think I would?¡±


    Her teeth worry her lower lip. ¡°Will you promise me you won¡¯t?¡±


    For a split second, I consider saying no-avoiding deepening¡­ this, between us. I¡¯m on a bncing rope, tipping too much to the ir side of the equation before wrenching myself back onto the Cole side.


    But then I register the emotion in her eyes. Trust. She¡¯s looking at me like she already knows my answer, and it¡¯s yes. My will crumbles like drywall under a sledgehammer.


    ¡°I promise,¡± I vow.


    She puts a hand on my arm and turns me around, pointing at a set of logos on the far end of the wall. ¡°I¡¯m starting another fashionpany,¡± she says carefully. ¡°It¡¯ll be very different fromst time. My name won¡¯t be anywhere on it.¡±


    Her hesitations make sense, now. The bacsh she received after thest time was enough to make anyone with less conviction pack up their bags and leave the industry all together.


    ir hadn¡¯t. She¡¯d ridden out the ridicule and continued showing up to fashion events, dressed impably, and slowly restoring her influence as someone with taste.


    Her eyes dart from the logos to mine. ¡°I¡¯llunch it without any connection to me. Until it has solid sales numbers, I won¡¯t be the face of it.¡±


    Yes, her hesitation definitely makes sense.


    She releases me and hurries forward. ¡°Remember these?¡± she says, fishing in a box for a pair of panties.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say darkly, ¡°I do.¡±


    The ones she¡¯d worn to the strip poker game in Whistler. The little beige flowers had haunted me.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll start off with lingerie. Made for all women, all shapes, all sizes, all colors. ttering on the form. And then I¡¯ll move on to slips, functional bras, fashion tape, anything you might need to make your already existing wardrobe work better.¡±


    I reach out and run my hand over a packaging box with silk ribbons. It looks expensive. ¡°Who are your investors?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any.¡±


    My eyes snap back to hers. ¡°You¡¯re financing this yourself? All of it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± There¡¯s something in her eyes I can¡¯t quite name. Pride, certainly, but¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s risky as hell,¡± I say honestly. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you involved Cole in this?¡±


    ¡°Because I want people to respect it.¡±


    ¡°People would.¡±


    She raises an eyebrow. ¡°Would they? Afterst time? I don¡¯t think so. You didn¡¯t receive any help with starting yourpany,¡± she points out. ¡°Would you respect me if I did? Seattle certainly didn¡¯tst time Iunched something.¡±


    A suspicion grows. I walk around the room, looking at the piles of samples and packaging and mood boards. ¡°How long have you been working on this?¡±


    ¡°A bit over two years.¡±


    ¡°A bit?¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    ¡°More like three,¡± she admits.


    ¡°Right.¡±


    She worries her lip again. When she speaks, I can tell she¡¯d rather not have. ¡°Tell me what you¡¯re thinking.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 41

    I reach out and put my hands on her shoulders. They feel frail under my hands, but I know they¡¯re not. She¡¯s stronger than she gives herself credit for.


    Her eyes flick down to my chest. Right. I hadn¡¯t put on anything but my boxers.


    ¡°Have you ever kickboxed?¡± I ask her.


    She bursts into surprisedughter. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re about to.¡± Pulling her into her living room, I grab at the decorative pillows on her couch. I¡¯ll finally give them a purpose.


    ¡°You¡¯ve worked for three years on that in there and not told anyone?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve told Skye.¡±


    ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ a few weeks ago,¡± she admits.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I say. ¡°Bend your knees, sink into a fighting stance¡­ yes, like that. Left foot forward.¡±


    Her face an adorable mix of confusion and resignation, she sinks into the stand I¡¯m showing her. ¡°Why are we doing this?¡±


    ¡°If you keep going at this rate, you¡¯llunch sometime in 2029,¡± I tell her. ¡°You¡¯re afraid.¡±


    She straightens out of her fighting stance immediately. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are. Your first collection went down terribly. It couldn¡¯t possibly have gone any worse.¡± I hold up two of her pillows as makeshift boxing pads. ¡°Now hit me.¡±


    ir looks from the brightly patterned pillow to my face, and back again, as if doubting which one she should truly hit. Only one of them has done nothing to her. ¡°You¡¯ve gone mad.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, ¡°you¡¯re just not mad enough.¡±


    She rolls her neck and bends her knees, just like I showed her. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll y along, but only because I¡¯ve wanted to hit you so many times and never had the opportunity.¡±


    I smile at that. It widens as she punches, hitting the pillow with all the force of a mosquito.


    ¡°You can do that harder. You¡¯re strong, you know. You have strength in your shoulders and hips that you never use. Use it now.¡±


    Her gaze narrows with focus on the pillow I¡¯m holding up. The punch she throws is harder this time. The p of a hummingbird wing, perhaps. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I say. ¡°Now, do all those gossip journalists make you angry? The ones who write that you have more money than fashion sense?¡±


    Her eyes sh. For a second, I wonder if I¡¯ve gone too far. These are words I know she¡¯s read. But sometimes there¡¯s a difference between knowing something and hearing it, especially from someone else¡¯s lips.


    But then she punches again, her torso twisting, and the pillow reverberates from the blow. ¡°Yes,¡± she says.


    ¡°And the so-called fashion experts who thought your first collection was¡­¡± I rack my brain to find a fitting adjective. Frankly, I¡¯d seen nothing wrong with the clothes, the few ones I¡¯d seen. What had they said? What¡¯s the jargon here?


    ir fills it in for me. ¡°Derivative,¡± she says, voice heated. ¡°Disjointed. Pass¨¦.¡±


    And then she jabs. The form is off, but the power is there, as both of the pillows I hold up sumb to the iing ughter.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I murmur. ¡°Keep going.¡±


    She puts more vigor into it, and as I watch, she actually starts bouncing on her toes. ¡°Twist from the torso,¡± I instruct. ¡°So what now? Are you going to let their opinions from years ago affect you, here and now?¡±


    ¡°I think you are. I think you¡¯re going to be too careful with this newunch.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t be.¡± A flush creeps up her cheeks as she punches away, her breathing faster. Her hair flows around her with every move and the robe is starting toe undone, tan skin peeking out. She looks like a vengeful, golden goddess. One with very ineffectual punches, perhaps, but a goddess regardless.


    ¡°They¡¯ll call it aeback,¡± she pants. ¡°And even if they don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m not doing it for them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I say. ¡°Now use your legs.¡±


    She looks up at me. ¡°How?¡±


    I twist my hands to hold the pillows horizontally. ¡°Hold on to my shoulders and raise your knee. Over and over¡­ Yes, like that.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t I hurt you?¡±


    I scoff. ¡°Only if you insult me like that again.¡±


    ¡°What do you have against the pillows?¡± she says, but she does as I¡¯ve instructed, raising her knee a couple of times in rapid session. Without the pillows and my own vignce, she¡¯d have easily kneed me in the balls.


    ¡°They¡¯re useless,¡± I say. ¡°Frivolous and decorous.¡±


    She gives a twisting smile. ¡°A lot of people would say the same about me.¡±


    ¡°And what would you say to them?¡± Her smile turns wicked, and then she¡¯s using my shoulders like a lever to pull her knee up even harder.


    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± I give her a gentle push and she stumbles back, eyes on mine. ¡°Now jab. Hit me. Come on.¡±


    She does, and hit by hit, the tension in her face drains away. ¡°I wish I could actually do this to all the critics.¡±


    ¡°How violent of you.¡±


    Her smile is a glorious thing. Wide and true and tinged with just a hint of wickedness. ¡°We all have hidden sides.¡±


    I sink down into my own fighter stance, still keeping the pillows held high. ¡°Take it all out, then, so when you do face them, you¡¯re not angry anymore. You¡¯re indifferent.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you fight?¡± she says, panting now.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Not where I want this conversation to go. I dodge her blow and question alike, sidestepping. ¡°Can¡¯t keep up?¡±


    She frowns and follows my parrying, trying to reach the pillows as I move them higher or sideways. ¡°Stop moving.¡±


    ¡°Most targets don¡¯t stand still for you.¡±


    ¡°You never do,¡± she says. ¡°These punches are for you, now.¡±


    ¡°For ignoring me for so many years.¡± Punch, punch, punch. ¡°For all the littlements.¡± Punch, punch. ¡°For making it clear to everyone, all the time, how much you disliked me.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 42

    I frown at her over the fringed hem of a pillow. She¡¯s still smiling, and her voice is teasing, but the words are true. They send another wave of guilt barreling through me. Throughout the years, I¡¯ve always told myself that pushing her away was for the best. Not once had I really thought it through from her perspective.


    One more deficiency to add to my ocean of ws.


    ir reaches up for an uppercut but grimaces as her hand makes contact with the pillow. Dropping out of her stance, she clutches her fist to her chest, head bent. ¡°Damn.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± I drop the pillows. ¡°Did you hurt yourself?¡±


    That¡¯s when she strikes. Her not-so-injured-after-all hand strikes out and collides with my upper arm. It only smarts for a moment. ¡°Aha!¡±


    Her grin fades as she sees my expression. I¡¯m keeping it carefully nk, knowing that my dark stare usually unnerves people.


    I attack. I bend my head and wrap my arms around her waist. It¡¯s no effort at all to lift her up and throw her over my shoulder.


    ¡°Now you¡¯re in for it,¡± I say.


    Herughter rains down my back, her hands gripping at my skin. ¡°It was an ident!¡±


    ¡°Like hell it was.¡± I throw her onto the couch and I¡¯m on her a secondter, tugging at the sp of her robe. ¡°This needs to go.¡±


    She gives me a blinding smile as she arches her back to let me slip it off her. ¡°I¡¯m not objecting,¡± she says. ¡°Naked boxing sounds so much more fun.¡±


    ¡°When it¡¯s with you, yes.¡± I pause with her beneath me, my hands on her waist. ¡°Launch your business,¡± I tell her. ¡°When it¡¯s right. And tell Cole. He¡¯ll be overjoyed.¡±


    ¡°I will, in time.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Bending down, I press my lips to hers. She sighs against my mouth and I surrender to her sweetness. What¡¯s a man to do, when confronted with this absolute goodness?


    I¡¯m kissing down her neck when the bell to her inte rings. Someone¡¯s downstairs.


    I groan. ¡°Did you order food?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She presses a kiss to my cheek and slides out from underneath me. ¡°Someone¡¯s probably calling the wrong apartment. It happens often.¡±


    ¡°It does?¡± I watch shamelessly as she walks naked to the panel by her front door. Confidence now radiates from her.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°My neighbor¡¯s mother often visits. She¡¯s seventy-eight. Wrong buttons get pressed.¡±


    But when she presses down the answer button, the voice that rings out is rmingly familiar to the both of us.


    ¡°Ready or not, I¡¯ming up, Lairy,¡± Cole announces. ¡°I have a surprise, and it can¡¯t wait.¡±


    I¡¯m frozen by the inte. There¡¯s no way I can refuse. No way at all, not convincingly. Illness? Wanting to sleep in? Cole won¡¯t ept any of those. I¡¯ve barged into his home enough times that he¡¯ll want revenge.


    His voice propels me into action. ¡°Come on up!¡± I chirp manically, pressing the button to let him in downstairs.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Nick is bending down to grab pillows, throwing them haphazardly back on the couch. ¡°Why did you let him in?¡±


    ¡°What else should I have done?¡± I grab my robe and pull it tightly around myself, double-knotting the belt. ¡°He drove me home yesterday! He knows I¡¯m here!¡±


    ¡°Fucking hell.¡± Nick¡¯s face is the picture of quiet fury. He strides into my bedroom and snaps up his clothing, balling it against his chest. ¡°I¡¯ll be in your study. Don¡¯t open the door.¡±


    ¡°It locks from the inside,¡± I say. ¡°But¡­ do you have to hide? We¡¯ll have to tell him eventually.¡±


    Nick pauses with one hand to the door of my study. His eyes tell me everything I need to know about his emotions on this score. ¡°Never would be too soon,¡± he says darkly, shutting the door behind him. A secondter, I hear the sound of a lock turning.


    Right.


    Splendid.


    The doorbell rings. ¡°Hurry up!¡± Cole calls.


    ¡°I¡¯ming, I¡¯ming¡­¡± I open the front door. ¡°What was the hurry? Is that-oh! Cole!¡±


    Heughs at my expression and gives the floppy-haired puppy in his arms a little bounce. The dog looks from him to me, ck eyes roaming. ¡°He couldn¡¯t wait.¡±


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s adorable. Come in,e in.¡±


    Cole sets the small Golden Retriever puppy down on the center of my carpet, and he instantly starts sniffing around, tail wagging.


    ¡°You bought a puppy?¡± I can¡¯t keep the happiness out of my voice. Sitting down cross-legged on the carpet, I put my hands out for the dog to sniff. He instantly pounces, giving small, puppyish nips.


    ¡°It¡¯s a surprise for Skye. I just went to pick him up and I thought I¡¯d stop here first. I figured you¡¯d like that.¡±


    ¡°You figured right. Oh, stop it, you.¡± Thest is to the puppy, who is now on his back and wing at my hand. I pull it away only to return to his tummy, stroking the soft fur.


    ¡°He¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Eight weeks old,¡± Cole says. ¡°He was the runt of the litter. I think Skye will like him.¡±


    ¡°I think she¡¯ll love him. But¡­ have you spoken about this with her? Are you sure she¡¯ll be happy?¡± There¡¯s no bite behind my words. It¡¯s impossible to keep up any form of resolve in the face of a puppy, especially one so cute as this one. He¡¯s given up his attack on my hand and is now crawling into myp instead, sniffing at my robe, my hair.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be convinced as soon as she sees him,¡± Cole says. ¡°She mentioned wantingpany while she writes from home. The house is big, as is the property. Besides, we have staff that can help look after him if she¡¯s busy.¡±


    I smile into the soft fur. That¡¯s so like Cole-big gestures and zero thought behind it. It¡¯s a trait we share. ¡°She¡¯ll love it.¡±


    Cole¡¯s answering grin is tinged with just a bit of relief. Perhaps I was the first test, then. ¡°Why a Golden?¡± I ask.


    ¡°She saw one on the street once and said it was cute.¡±


    ¡°That was your sole data point?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a good family dog, too.¡±


    We watch the puppy as he leaves us to explore. Heps around the living room table twice, sniffing at every nook and cranny.This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    ¡°He¡¯s making me want to get a dog, too.¡±


    Cole chuckles. ¡°Right, with your lifestyle?¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 43

    ¡°You think I couldn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯d have to get up earlier than ten in the morning if you do,¡± he says, eyeing my robe.


    ¡°You could at least try to keep the judgement out of your tone,¡± I tell him, but my voice isn¡¯t the least bit offended. This is my role in the family. Cole is the sessful, responsible one. I¡¯m the social butterfly. He swam for the school team in high school. I was on the prom nningmittee.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± he says. ¡°Did you have fun yesterday?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The opera was beautiful, although I¡¯m not sure how I felt about all the modern changes.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± Cole says. ¡°At least they took a risk with it.¡±


    ¡°ssics are ssics for a reason.¡± I pat my hands on the carpet and the puppy looks up immediately. He stares at my hands with an obvious thought in mind. A challenger?


    He pounces and we roughhouse a bit, Cole joining in. ¡°He reminds me of Pratt.¡±


    Iugh. There¡¯s absolutely nothing about this little puppy that is reminiscent of the pug our mother had when we were teenagers. ¡°No, he doesn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re both dogs,¡± Cole points out. ¡°But yeah, that¡¯s perhaps the only simrity.¡±


    ¡°What did Skye say when you left this morning? She wasn¡¯t suspicious?¡±


    ¡°She thinks I¡¯m swimming.¡± His hand stills over the puppy¡¯s stomach, fingers scratching. ¡°ir, how has working with Nick been? Really?¡±


    I smooth my fingers over the dog¡¯s soft ear. How soundproof is the door to my office?


    ¡°I¡¯ve enjoyed it,¡± I say. ¡°We don¡¯t see each other a lot at work, actually. We sort of have a separation of church and state going on.¡±


    Cole nods, and when he speaks, his words are measured. ¡°I asked him the same thing the other day, and he said that it had worked out all right but that he wouldn¡¯t renew your consulting contract. That it had run its course.¡±


    I¡¯m grateful for the puppy between us, not to mention the door between Nick and me. My reaction is mine alone. ¡°Oh? He did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Surprised me, to be honest. I¡¯d gotten the same impression as you. That working together had gone all right, at least on the professional front. You still can¡¯t seem to stand each other socially.¡± His voice turns teasing. ¡°Did you speak a word to each otherst night?¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe he feels differently,¡± I say. My voice is impressively casual. Someone nominate me for an Academy Award, stat.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Cole¡¯s voice softens. ¡°I want you to find your passion again, you know. I thought maybe hispany could help you with that.¡±


    Wow. What can I say in response? Even if I felt ready to show him my new brand, there¡¯s a six-foot-two beast of a man hiding in that room. One who happens to be Cole¡¯s best friend.


    ¡°I will,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m doing an interview for the Seattle Tribune just next week about styling winter outfits.¡± The response sounds weak, even to my own ears. For the first time, I almost want to tell him about my lingeriepany. Had Nick¡¯s punching tactic worked?


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear,¡± Cole says. ¡°You¡¯ll let me know if you need anything from me, right? I was the one who talked you into working for Nick in the first ce. I can get you out of it if you want.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Keeping secrets from my brother isn¡¯t amon thing for me, not since we both grew up and out of the usual teenage tension between siblings.


    What would he think about Nick and me?


    The puppy gets to his paws and continues his exploration. When he gets to the closed door of my study, he whines slightly, pawing at the door.


    I pick him up. ¡°Perhaps you should get this little guy home to meet the rest of his new family.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I should.¡± Cole epts the wriggling puppy from my arms, tucking it into his. ¡°Now, we have a ten-minute car drive. Can you handle that?¡±


    The puppy licks his chin.


    ¡°That was a yes,¡± I supply. ¡°Now scram. And make sure you take a ton of pictures, okay? Of Skye¡¯s reaction, of the puppy settling in¡­¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    ¡°And you know this means I¡¯ll being over to your house even more often.¡±


    Cole grins. ¡°Timmy said the exact same thing. He¡¯s there now, in on the secret and keeping Skyepany.¡±


    ¡°I bet he¡¯s very excited.¡±


    ¡°Oh, ecstatic.¡± Cole lifts one of the puppy¡¯s paws in a tiny farewell before he closes my front door behind him.


    Despite the information just revealed-the conversation I know is waiting behind me-I give myself a second to just smile. This would never have happened before my brother met his wife. He would have been working today, on a Saturday of all days, as he did most days. He would have scoffed at the idea of getting a dog.


    How the times have changed.


    Behind me, the door to my office swings open. Nick is fully dressed now. ¡°Was there actually a puppy in here?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Cole bought him for Skye.¡±


    A hint of a smile on his lips. ¡°Your brother ispletely whipped.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s happy.¡± I cross my arms over my chest. Nick won¡¯t distract me from my question, not even if he gives me one of his rare smiles. ¡°He told me that you¡¯re not nning on renewing my contract. I thought my work with B. C. Adams was going well?¡±


    He sighs. ¡°Damn it. Thanks, Cole.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s true? And you told him before me?¡±


    ¡°He asked. I answered.¡± Nick shakes his head, looking away from me. ¡°It¡¯s not a good idea for us to do¡­ this, while we work together.¡±


    I blink. That was not the answer I¡¯d been expecting. Hope, already blooming in my chest from the closeness we¡¯d shared yesterday, grows with his words. ¡°Oh. I totally understand that,¡± I say. ¡°Being involved and working together isn¡¯t a good idea.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± His eyes narrow a tad. ¡°That was too damn close of a call with Cole. Does he swing by unannounced like that often?¡±


    I wrap my arms around his waist. He looks out of sorts, like the close encounter had rattled him to his very bones. Someone else might think he looked imposing or closed off, but I see it for what it is now. He¡¯s uneasy.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± I say. ¡°But isn¡¯t it fun to sneak around, at least for a little while?¡±


    He reaches up and pushes back my hair. ¡°That excites you?¡±


    ¡°A bit, but it¡¯ll feel much so better when he knows,¡± I say, remembering the closeness we¡¯d shared yesterday, the conversation without words. ¡°And if you don¡¯t want me to work for you anymore, if you see this going somewhere¡­ well, then it doesn¡¯t have to be a secret.¡±


    Softness had been the wrong tactic.

 Billion Dollar Beast 44

    It breaks against him like a ship against an iceberg, unyielding and unforgivable. ¡°Tell Cole and Skye,¡± he repeats. The gentleness in his voice isn¡¯t the same as mine-his is cold. ¡°And then what? Do you expect us to arrive to dinner at their house hand-in-hand and announce that we¡¯ve decided what, exactly? To get to know one another better and please wish us luck?¡±


    The scorn in his voice¡­ Is that so unthinkable? ¡°Why not?¡± To my horror, my voice wavers. ¡°There¡¯s no rush, but yeah¡­ one day, eventually, I do kind of hope we¡¯d do that.¡±


    Nick shakes his head, pushing away from me gently. ¡°I can¡¯t do that. I can¡¯t be that for you.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± I hate the smallness of my voice, the meek question.


    Nick pulls at the dark fabric of his coat. It stretches across his shoulders, struggling to contain an uncontainable man. I can empathize.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you imagine it?¡± he says. ¡°What they¡¯ll say, what they¡¯ll think. It won¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Nobody will care.¡±


    ¡°Everybody will care,¡± he says. ¡°Have you never read the newspapers, ir? You¡¯re admired far more than you¡¯re scorned.¡±


    ¡°You think I care about what people might say about us? People I¡¯ve never even met?¡±


    ¡°I know you would,¡± he counters, throwing an arm out in the direction of my couch. ¡°You just punched everyone who ever critiqued your business sense. What will you do when they critique who shares your bed? You think I don¡¯t know that everyone in your circle, your own mother included, wonders why your brother ims me as his friend?¡±


    He¡¯s thought a lot more about this than I have.


    I shake my head. ¡°That won¡¯t happen. And if it does, I¡¯ll handle it. Just give me more pillows to punch.¡±


    ¡°You say that now,¡± Nick mutters, a hand on the handle of my front door.


    ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see us getting anywhere with this discussion right now,¡± he says, and the tone in which he speaks¡­ it¡¯s the same one I¡¯ve heard him use for years. Cold, dismissive.


    The door shuts behind him with a decisive sound. I sink down onto my couch with a sick feeling in my stomach. How had everything changed so quickly? Where, exactly, had the day gone wrong? I¡¯d fallen asleep in his arms, closer to him than I¡¯d ever been before, and now he¡¯s running as fast as he can.


    A puppy would probably be easier to manage, I think, but I don¡¯t even have the energy to smile at the thin joke.


    ¡°Are you certain?¡± Gina asks, the professional concern in her eyes warming me.


    ¡°I am,¡± I say. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve done all I can to consult on B. C. Adams¡¯ new image and inventory. The rest is up to your financial team and marketing experts.¡±


    She nods reluctantly. Both of us know I¡¯m making sense. ¡°I understand that, and I can imagine that you have a lot of projectspeting for your time. It¡¯s a shame, though. You have a keen understanding of this industry and I¡¯ll be the first to rmend that we bring you back if we have need of it.¡±


    Is it possible to grow a few feet from praise alone? I feel like I have. ¡°Thank you, I truly appreciate it. Would you mind informing Mr. Park about my letter of resignation during your afternoon meeting?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡± Faint spection is in her eyes. ¡°I was under the impression that you were family friends, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we are, but he¡¯s nothing if not busy. I¡¯ll call him tonight and exin.¡±


    She taps her fingers against my desk. ¡°Very well, then. Feel free to leave your keys and ess pass here when you leave.¡±


    I release a shaky sigh as she walks away.


    This is the right thing to do. I epted this job to prove a point to Nick and Cole, and the point has been made. B. C. Adams¡¯ profit margins are getting better by the day.


    I leave the office without having glimpsed Nick once that day. Professionalism to the very end, I think, gathering up my few belongings and waving goodbye to his assistant. The decision feels like one of those punches that Nick wanted me to throw in my living room. He goes after what he wants, and so would I.


    And if he believed we couldn¡¯t work together and still be involved, I¡¯ve just made it really, really simple. I¡¯d rather have him than this job.


    But he doesn¡¯t pick up when I call to tell him that.


    He doesn¡¯t pick up the day after, either. My two texts-one polite, one mildly frustrated-go unanswered. Is he still upset from when he¡¯d stormed out of my apartment?


    It¡¯s hard to ignore the feeling that you¡¯re a fool. It creeps up when you least expect it, resistant tomon sense and rationality. We¡¯d had one little fight. Hardly even a quarrel. Practically a disagreement. A discussion. And then he¡¯d run?


    It didn¡¯t seem like the Nick I¡¯d gotten to know, the man who steered hispany with an iron grip, who waspetitive to a fault, who was proud and private and shockingly loyal.


    But it did seem like the actions of a man who had a decade¡¯s experience of keeping women at arm¡¯s length. And that thought made me feel more foolish than any other. That I¡¯d had the arrogance to think I¡¯d be the one to make him change.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    On the fourth day post Puppygeddon, as I was beginning to think of it, I ask Cole toe over to my apartment. With no work and no Nick, there has been nothing to distract me from my own business ns.


    And it¡¯s time to throw another one of those punches.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Cole asks, standing on the threshold to my office. ¡°I didn¡¯t even know this room existed-you¡¯ve kept it closed for years. It¡¯s not a spare closet?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I¡¯ve been working on something.¡± I¡¯m standing by the rack of clothing, nerves racing through me. I feel like I¡¯m seven again and asking him to y with me, scared he¡¯ll say no.


    Cole steps inside. The change when he starts to realize what he¡¯s seeing is instantaneous. His face grows sharp, his business persona, the one I¡¯ve seen him adopt a thousand times. ¡°ir, what is this?¡±


    So I tell him. Iy out the entireunch schedule I¡¯ve plotted out over thest couple of days. I show him pieces and sketches. Packaging design. I even hand him the spreadsheet of my financial calctions.


    My brother reads it all-every word, every cent, every thing he¡¯s shown. The quiet concentration on his face is the greatestpliment he could pay me, even if he hasn¡¯tmented yet.


    And then the questions start. Where do you store your stock? Who¡¯s your distributor? What¡¯s the long-term vision?


    I answer all of it to the best of my ability, and when I¡¯m done, he sinks into my office chair. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m very impressed, ir.¡±


    ¡°You are?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ve mapped it all out meticulously. There are some areas where I think you should hire outside expertise, but overall¡­ you¡¯re set.¡± He raises an eyebrow at me. ¡°I¡¯m hurt, actually.¡±


    ¡°Hurt?¡±


    ¡°You must have investors already, but it¡¯s the first time I¡¯m hearing about this. My money not good enough?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°No investors.¡±


    ¡°How are you paying for all this?¡± And then, his narrowed eyes. ¡°Your inheritance?¡±


    If I speak quickly, perhaps I can pre-empt his anger. ¡°I wanted to do it on my own. If this doesn¡¯t work out, if it¡¯s not a sess¡­ I couldn¡¯t have you or someone else take the financial hit again.¡±


    Great. Now he looks offended. ¡°You thought I wouldn¡¯t help you?¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 45

    ¡°I knew you would. Cole, I¡¯d love for you to invest, truly. After I¡¯veunched-and only if you look through the financials with your advisors and make a decision on the basis of that.¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a beat. And when he speaks, there¡¯s something in his voice-respect? ¡°I get it.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Of course. It¡¯s risky as hell, but yes. Dad and I once had this exact same conversation.¡± Cole smiles at the memory. ¡°I¡¯ll help you in any way I can-as much as you¡¯ll let me.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Start by getting an assistant and a centralized storage location,¡± he says, softly shaking his head. ¡°Two years, and not a word to me. It¡¯ll take me a while to forgive you, you know.¡±


    His voice is teasing, so I make mine light as well. ¡°I¡¯ll do your chores for a whole week.¡±


    It works-heughs. ¡°Make it two.¡±


    We talk about the puppy, still nameless and too cute for this world. About Skye¡¯s uing book and Cole¡¯s trip to New York. So I convince myself it¡¯s casual, when I slip in the question toward the end. ¡°Have you seen Nick aroundtely? He¡¯s sort of been MIA since the night at the opera.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t. He cancelled tennis yesterday, but that happens all the time. Busy schedules and all. Why?¡±


    Why, indeed? I clear my throat. ¡°Just wondering.¡±


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t been at work?¡±


    No, I haven¡¯t. I should tell him I¡¯ve quit, but then I¡¯d have to exin why, and¡­ I can¡¯t.


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be at the party on Saturday, anyway,¡± Cole says, not the least bit concerned. It¡¯s only been a few days for him, after all, and the two of them haven¡¯t had a massive argument. Nick had obviously been able to text Cole, but not me.


    So his phone works.


    Good to know.


    I file it away under the reasons to get angry column instead of the reasons to get sad one. It¡¯s been a constant battle this past few days between them both. As the ruling judge, I¡¯ve made an executive decision to give him at least a week. But if he¡¯s still avoiding me by Cole and Skye¡¯s party¡­


    All hell will break loose.


    So, I have to break hell loose.


    It had seemed a lot easier earlier in the week. But standing in front of the floor-length mirror in my bedroom now, getting ready for a party he will most definitely be at, it¡¯s much harder to keep my confidence up.


    An entire week where he hasn¡¯t answered my calls.


    But tonight he won¡¯t get away.


    The dress I¡¯m wearing clings to my form. The colors are appropriate-Skye sent me a picture of the autumnal decorations-in muted tones. I¡¯m wearing my own lingerie underneath. It feels likece armor, like I¡¯m preparing for battle.


    Cole and Skye¡¯s driveway is decorated with pumpkins and flowers and a giant wreath hangs on the door. A member of staff with an orange maple leaf in his breast pocket opens the front door for me.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± The scent of pumpkin spice hits me. Are they burning a legion of candles at once? Baking cookies nonstop? The ce smells amazing.


    Skye is the first to find me. She threads her arm under mine. ¡°Isn¡¯t this ce gorgeous?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your ce,¡± I point out,ughing. ¡°But yes. Are you making this an annual tradition?¡±


    ¡°I really want to. Of all of Cole¡¯s damnableworking parties, this one I want to keep. And make it more about family.¡± Her hand flutters absently to her belly, now really starting to show. No doubt she¡¯s already fielding off questions.


    ¡°Next year you¡¯ll be three hosts,¡± I whisper.


    Her gaze warms. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sure the third will be a huge help.¡±


    ¡°Infants are excellent napkin-folders,¡± I tease.


    Skyeughs, tugging us to a standstill in the center of the living room. Soft music drifts from the built-in speaker system. My eyes pass over the people gathered in this room. Family friends. My cousins. My brother and Ethan Carter, heads bent in close conversation. He¡¯s another one of Cole¡¯s recent friends-a man with a budding tech empire and two cute, tiny daughters. I¡¯ve heard Skye say more than once that she hoped he¡¯d find someone to date amongst the guests at their parties.


    I don¡¯t see Nick anywhere.


    ¡°Your mom is in the kitchen,¡± Skye says, misunderstanding my perusal. ¡°She told Cole that she doesn¡¯t trust the new caterers to get the food quite right.¡±


    I smile at that. ¡°Sounds like Mom.¡±


    Skye is polite enough to neither agree nor disagree with that statement, but I can¡¯t imagine that my mom makes for an easy mother-inw.


    ¡°So,¡± I say, looking down at my nails, ¡°is Nick here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I saw him just a few minutes ago. He was-oh no.¡± Her gaze snags on the bar, where her teenage nephew is examining a few bottles. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back¡­¡±


    I head into the den. More people are here; the double doors open up to the backyard. Space heaters are set up outside and lounge chairs have nkets thrown over the backs.


    Nick is standing out there. It might be dimly lit, but I¡¯d know those shoulders anywhere. It¡¯s him-standing alone and apart from the rest of the party. It makes me a tiny bit less angry at him for having ignored me for a week.


    I¡¯m nearly by the doors when I¡¯m stopped by a smiling face.


    ¡°ir, it¡¯s good to see you again.¡±


    ¡°You too, Uncle.¡± I return his hug. So close-I¡¯m so close!


    He sees my gaze and follows it out to Nick. ¡°Yes,¡± my uncle says. ¡°Your brother invited the vulture. He¡¯s always had a penchant for making news, our Cole.¡±


    My teeth grit together. At the reference to Nick¡¯s reputation in business. To the joke about Cole¡¯s public rtions skills. To the fact that my uncle expects me tough to it.


    A year ago, I probably would have.


    ¡°They¡¯re good friends,¡± I say.


    ¡°Oh, of course they are.¡± My uncle¡¯s voice quiets. Big words, but he wouldn¡¯t want to be overheard.


    There¡¯s more I could say. About Nick¡¯s business sense, about savingpanies rather than destroying them. Perhaps some ridiculous metaphor about how even vultures have a ce in nature. That I¡¯ve been working for him. Nick had once said that he didn¡¯t want to harm my reputation, somehow. And here I am wanting to defend his.

 Billion Dollar Beast 46

    But I¡¯m a woman on a mission, and correcting my uncle will have to wait. I look from him to Nick beyond. He¡¯s outside, in the dark and cold, choosing it over the warmth andmotion inside.


    He always chooses to stand apart.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I tell my uncle, and step out to join Nick in the cold autumn air.


    ¡°Here you are,¡± I say, wrapping my arms around myself.


    Nick doesn¡¯t look down at me. He keeps staring out into the distance, and even in the dim light, I can tell his jaw is clenched. ¡°Found me,¡± he says.


    I swallow. ¡°Why have you been avoiding my calls all week?¡±


    ¡°Why do you think?¡± He takes a sip out of a ss I hadn¡¯t seen him holding.


    I nce back to the crowded room inside. We can¡¯t do this here-not with people watching. ¡°Come on,¡± I tell him. ¡°Let¡¯s go inside.¡±


    And to my surprise¡­ he follows without protest. I lead him around the back porch to the kitchen entrance. It¡¯s open, thank God, and none of the waiters raise an eyebrow as we walk through the butler¡¯s pantry to the back staircase. Nor do we run into my mother, and for that alone, I need to write a thank-you note to fate.


    ¡°Far away from prying eyes,¡± Nickments, but his voice isn¡¯t amused so much as it¡¯s dry. It¡¯s the Nick from months ago-the Nick who couldn¡¯t look at me with anything but disdain or indifference.


    I thought we had banished that Nick forever.


    ¡°In here,¡± I tell him, pulling him into my brother¡¯s study. It¡¯s the one room I can always count on being deserted.


    Nick nces around. ¡°This room. Again.¡±


    The room where we¡¯d kissed. Yes, I remember, but I won¡¯t be sidetracked. Not even by the way his suit-worn disdainfully, as always-looks like it¡¯s cut specifically for him. The five-o¡¯-clock shadow on his face is more pronounced, like he hasn¡¯t shaved in days, bringing out the heat in his eyes.


    ¡°So you finally have me here,¡± he says. ¡°Let¡¯s hear what you¡¯ve wanted to tell me all week.¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    The faint hope I¡¯d harbored falls with his words. Hope that there had been some form of misunderstanding, that he¡¯d changed his mind, that the argument we¡¯d had was truly no more than a bump in the road.


    ¡°That¡¯s your attitude?¡± My voicees out more pained than I want it to. I brace my hands behind me against the desk.


    ¡°My attitude?¡± He raises an eyebrow. ¡°You were the one who quit your job immediately after our argument, and without a word of exnation. Actually, let me go first, to spare you the trouble. You¡¯re right. This isn¡¯t a good idea.¡±


    My chest feels like it¡¯s caving in. ¡°Working together?¡±


    ¡°Working together, getting to know one another, sleeping together.¡± The seething force of his reply catches me off guard.


    ¡°That¡¯s what you want, then? For us to stop¡­ what we¡¯ve been doing.¡±


    His eyes are ck and dazzling with unrestrained fury. Why is he so angry? I don¡¯t understand it. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s for the best, isn¡¯t it? What you want and what I want isn¡¯tpatible.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I agree faintly.


    ¡°And now we don¡¯t have to talk to Cole about it.¡± He rolls his neck, like it¡¯s stiff, ncing away from me. ¡°Problem solved.¡±


    My words aren¡¯t considered. They aren¡¯t measured, tactical, precise. They flow out of me faster than I can dam them. ¡°You¡¯re afraid again. You¡¯re afraid this might be something real, for once, so you¡¯re retreating.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the one retreating? You¡¯re the one who quit the job without a word. Whatever. I¡¯m done with this. Go back to hating me, ir. It was better that way.¡±


    And then he does the unthinkable.


    He turns away, like we¡¯re done with this conversation, like this is all we needed to say. My hands tremble with anger as I cross the room to him.


    ¡°I quit the job for you, you idiot,¡± I say. I grip thepels of his jacket and pull myself up on my tiptoes. There¡¯s a glimpse of his face, set in angry lines, before I close my eyes and press my lips to his.


    So we¡¯re not good with words.


    But I¡¯d like to see him lie with his lips.


    His mouth is furious under mine, echoing the same anger in my own. His hands grip my hips and I¡¯m pulled roughly against the full length of his body.


    Yes, I think. You don¡¯t want to go back to being nothing at all. I know you don¡¯t. Stop being afraid.


    Nick¡¯s hand rises up to bury itself in my hair and then he¡¯s fighting me for control of the kiss, his lips opening mine, his tongue sweeping in.


    I surrender to his lead and slide my hands inside his suit jacket, along the hard nes of his chest, warm to the touch even through his shirt.


    The sound of the door opening breaks us apart.


    And standing there, shock on his face, is Cole, and behind him, a very curious Ethan.


    To his credit, my brother doesn¡¯t scream or yell. He doesn¡¯t flip out. He goes very white instead.


    ¡°What,¡± he says softly, ¡°the hell is going on here?¡±


    Nick steps away from me. A nce at his face tells me he¡¯ll be absolutely no help here. If Cole is shocked, Nick looks struck. The cks of his eyes are t.


    ¡°Cole,¡± I ask, ¡°please. Please, just give us a moment¡­¡±


    He tears his gaze away from his best friend to me. And whatever he sees in my eyes is enough, apparently, because he reaches out and shuts the door to his study. The door ms behind him.


    The room is drenched in silence.


    Nick bends over Cole¡¯s desk, his hands braced along the edge. He looks frozen in ce-a marble statue of misery. As punished, I think. Prometheus bound.


    The tension is clear in every line of his body.


    ¡°He¡¯ll understand,¡± I say. ¡°He will. There¡¯s nothing to-¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t. Please, ir. Tell him whatever you like, but just¡­ leave me alone.¡±


    I don¡¯t understand his emotions. There¡¯s no clear path for me to approach them, no way forward, no obvious entry point. I take a careful step closer.


    ¡°Why do you do that? Why do you push everyone away?¡± I ask. And then stronger, when there¡¯s no answer. ¡°It¡¯s easier to be an asshole than to have someone know you and walk away, right? Better to never give them a reason to get close in the first ce.¡±


    His shoulders heave with one strong breath. ¡°Go back to your friends, ir,¡± he says quietly. ¡°We¡¯re done here.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 47

    The same words he spoke to me at the poker game, all those years ago. Tears prick at my eyes. What have I done that¡¯s so horrible? Caring about him?


    I wish I didn¡¯t, so I didn¡¯t have to feel this way right now. d he can¡¯t see my face, I turn around and walk out of the study.


    The door doesn¡¯t m behind me. That would take more anger than I have at the moment. It closes with a soft creak, like a whimper, the sound echoing in my head as I race down the hallway.


    The knock on my front door is heavy. If it hadn¡¯t been made from steel, it would probably bear marks.


    ¡°Nick!¡±


    The voice is familiar. The fury in it is not. I run a hand over my face and contemte not opening. Running from my problems has always been a much, much nicer option.


    But it¡¯s also a short-term solution.


    So I open the front door. Cole bursts through, the look in his eyes worse than a punch to the gut. Physical violence would have been preferable to that look. I¡¯d left his party without seeing him, not wanting to throw a scene at his cozy, family-filled gathering.


    But I¡¯d known he¡¯de and find me soon enough.


    ¡°How could you?¡± he spits. ¡°My sister?¡±


    There are no words I can say to make it better.


    None at all.


    ¡°I know,¡± I say.


    ¡°Her exnation didn¡¯t make sense,¡± he grinds out. ¡°So maybe you can exin it to me? Because right now it¡¯s looking really fucking bad.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    The image of ir, upset and confused, trying to exin us to her brother explodes in my mind. And all because I hadn¡¯t answered her calls out of a fear that she¡¯d tell me we were over. That she quit the job and nned to cut me out of her life.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can,¡± I say. Without conscious thought, I take in his stance, his closed fists. My legs brace against a sudden attack.


    ¡°Try,¡± he growls. ¡°Because all I know is what I saw, and that a few hourster, my little sister is sobbing in my living room because of you.¡±


    Sobbing?


    ir was crying, about me? Because of me? The ground seems to tremble beneath my feet. ¡°Is she okay?¡±


    Cole turns venomous eyes on me. ¡°I don¡¯t know, why don¡¯t you tell me?¡±


    Fuck.


    How do I even begin to exin this? When I¡¯d considered having this conversation, I¡¯d expected to have weeks to prepare myself. To find the right words to make Cole understand that it hadn¡¯t really been a choice at all.


    I brace my hands against the back of my couch. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean for it to happen.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that makes it so much better,¡± Cole says. ¡°That you hurt my sister on a whim.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that,¡± I say, gritting my teeth. ¡°Not at all. We grew closer. It wasn¡¯t nned, and I knew I should have stayed away, but¡­¡±


    The look Cole shoots me is deadly. Spare me the gory details, it says, or I¡¯ll kill you where you stand. And I¡¯d probably let him, because knowing ir is somewhere crying because of me¡­


    ¡°But what? There are thousands of women in Seattle who¡¯d have you. Fuck, I¡¯ve seen you have your pick of them! But you had to choose my sister?¡± Cole¡¯s voice is vibrating with anger. ¡°You were the one who told me to avoid mixing business and pleasure when I started dating Skye. Don¡¯t make a mess, was your advice.¡±


    Oh, the irony.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that. It was never¡­ never forck of someone else. I didn¡¯t want another woman but her.¡± My voice is hoarse. All our years together and we¡¯ve never had a conversation like this. Never ventured into this territory. But just like when I¡¯m with ir, it alles pouring out. ¡°Damn it, Cole, you¡¯re basically my brother.¡±


    He braces his hands on the other side of the sofa. It¡¯s like a divider, the two of us boxers on either end of a cushioned ring. His shoulders are tense. He¡¯d much rather punch me in the face, but he¡¯s resisting it. For now.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you with women,¡± he grounds out. ¡°It¡¯s never emotional. It neversts. It¡¯s always transactional in some way. Are you telling me that this is somehow different? That it¡¯s not just¡­¡± His skin goes dark red and I know the word he¡¯s not saying, the word he can¡¯t bring himself to. My reply is quick to save us both the pain of that.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t for me. Never was.¡±


    And that¡¯s the truth of it.


    For all the years I¡¯ve stayed away from ir Porter, it¡¯s been exactly for this reason. Crossing the line would never be unemotional. Never casual. It would be something right away-she would deserve nothing less. Hell, she¡¯d demand nothing less. And she hadn¡¯t.


    And I¡¯d reacted like I knew I would.


    ¡°Then why is she crying? Why does she think it¡¯s over? Put the pieces together for me.¡±


    ¡°Because it is,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ fuck, Cole, I don¡¯t know what to tell you. I¡¯m not good at rtionships. I¡¯ll hurt her. It¡¯s better that we stop it now, before it goes too far.¡±


    ¡°Beautiful timing,¡± he says. ¡°Because I¡¯d wager she¡¯s already pretty damned hurt.¡±


    His words feel like a p. One I know I deserve. Had this been a kickboxing ring, I would have known how to respond. This, though¡­ I¡¯m drowning.


    ¡°She¡¯s strong,¡± I say. ¡°She¡¯s had to be. There¡¯s so much in store for her¡­ I can¡¯t ruin any of it. Can¡¯t be attached to her name and jeopardize it.¡±


    ¡°So much in store for her¡­¡± Cole echoes, eyes narrowing. ¡°Do you know about the things in her home office?¡±


    ¡°She told you?¡±


    His eyes are twin mes of usation. ¡°She told you?¡±


    A burst of pride erupts inside me. She¡¯d faced one of her fears, then, by telling him.


    ¡°She was worried about your reaction,¡± I say. The words slip out before I can stop them, a testament to how unhinged I¡¯m bing.


    It¡¯s the wrong thing to say. Cole¡¯s eyes ze. ¡°She told you that?¡±


    I can see the instant he realizes that he¡¯s miscalcted somehow. That there¡¯s more to the story here than he¡¯d assumed, that this is both deeper and wider and broader. ¡°Fucking hell, man. You¡¯ve made such a mess of this.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s over now, though. I¡¯ll leave her alone from now on. I promise you I will.¡±


    Cole shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m so tempted to hit you right now. You¡¯re being even more thick-headed than usual. Would you give up this easily if it was apany you wanted to take over, huh? Would you give a fuck if your reputation wouldn¡¯t be attached to hers?¡±


    I¡¯m shaking my head too, this time in disbelief. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly want me to continue seeing ir.¡±

 Billion Dollar Beast 48

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me what I feel.¡± Cole¡¯s fists tighten at his sides. ¡°God help me, no, I don¡¯t want that. I¡¯ve always said you needed a proper rtionship in your life, but I never expected you to choose my sister for that.¡±


    I reach up to run a hand over the back of my neck. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I really chose anything,¡± I mutter.


    Surprisingly, Cole¡¯s lips twitch. ¡°I remember the feeling,¡± he says. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m talking you into this. But for some godforsaken reason, my sister wants you. And I want her to be happy. And even though I¡¯m furious at you right now, I want you to be happy. So fix it, Nick.¡±


    The order rankles me. He can see that it does, and the smile blossoms into a full one, savagely amused. Part of his revenge. ¡°Do it,¡± he says.


    I don¡¯t know how to respond.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t react like I expected you to,¡± I say. I¡¯m pushing my luck by pointing this out, but that seems to have be a habit by now.


    ¡°Yes, well, don¡¯t give me a reason to change my mind.¡± Cole shakes his head, stepping toward the door. ¡°Make it right for both of your sakes. And for mine, because I¡¯m forced to spend time with both of you.¡±


    And then he¡¯s leaving, and I¡¯m alone with his words and my own thoughts, spiraling in every which way. And beneath it, a deep, yawning fear that I¡¯ve pushed ir too far this time. That had been my goal, after all. Push her away to avoid disappointing her. Stop this all from spinning out of control.


    But I¡¯d never had control when it came to her.


    And maybe¡­ maybe that wasn¡¯t such a terrifying thing. Maybe it might even lead to something good, if I was brave enough to try.


    Nick and Cole aren¡¯t talking.


    Skye informs me about it over brunch, a week after the horrible fall party and the showdown in my brother¡¯s study. She tells me while Cole¡¯s busy letting the puppy out into the garden to y, and with a careful nce in his direction.


    That look tells me more than her words ever could. So whatever discussion they¡¯d had hadn¡¯t gone down well.


    I look down at my buttery croissant and swallow a rising tide of despair. Cole and Nick are unlikely friends, but they¡¯re true ones. Both of them need each other. Competitive and type-As and hard-working.


    And I¡¯vee in between them, and for what? Nick and I aren¡¯t anything now. We¡¯re just two people who once used to spend time together. We were never even friends, not really.


    ¡°Oh, ir, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Skye¡¯s handnds on top of mine. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have said anything.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m d you did,¡± I reassure her. ¡°I want to know. Even if¡­¡±


    Even if it hurts.


    Skye nods, her eyes more understanding than I have any right to. It¡¯s my mess, this. y with fire and you get burned. Hadn¡¯t I always known that in regards to Nichs Park? And still, I¡¯d poked and prodded, ignoring his attempts to distance himself. Was this what he feared? That he¡¯d lose his best friend?


    And I¡¯d made ite true.


    Cole returns to the table. His cable-knit sweater is frayed at the cor, and I make a mental note to buy him a new one for Christmas. ¡°Strike is out,¡± he says. ¡°He¡¯s more obedient by the day.¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re the one training him,¡± Skye notes. ¡°I¡¯m not half as good at that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because you¡¯re not consistent.¡± Cole drapes an arm around the back of her chair.


    ¡°Strike? You named him?¡±


    ¡°Timmy did,¡± Cole exins. ¡°We went over a list of baseball terms and settled on Strike.¡±


    ¡°It suits him,¡± I say. Next mental note: get them a cor with Strike¡¯s name emzoned on it. I¡¯m a Christmas gift queen.


    Cole raises a finger at me. ¡°Now, you told me you had more information about yourpany. Will you finally tell me theunch n?¡±


    I look through my bag for the papers I¡¯d printed. It¡¯s massive, what I¡¯ve nned. A tight time schedule. It¡¯ll be like throwing myself out of a ne window without knowing if the parachute works. But that¡¯s business, right? Not to mention life. You can stay at home, hiding under the nkets, but that¡¯s not what you were put on this Earth to do.


    ¡°Here it is.¡± I push the timeline over the table. ¡°I¡¯ve nned theunch for February next year. Promotional packages will be sent out to a range of influencers and YouTube personalities. I¡¯ll pull every favor I can to build hype about it.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ve hired the marketing consultant I suggested?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She starts next week.¡±


    Cole sinks into the papers like I¡¯ve given him the unreleased script to a Hollywood blockbuster. His interest and support for this makes my chest warm. Why had I been afraid to share this with him for years? Cole hadn¡¯t been an overnight sess, either. My brother has worked for everything he has, and so will I.


    A small part of me wants to hear Nick¡¯s thoughts on this. His business sense is acute, especially knowing when to cut your losses and run. What would he say?


    I push the thought away.


    Nick doesn¡¯t want to be in my life. It¡¯s better if you go back to hating me, ir.


    Well, I¡¯d be damned if I¡¯d let him get his way there, too. For all of my sadness¡­ I refuse to hate him. I doubt I ever really did.


    Ie home to a giant package outside my front door.


    And by giant, I mean massive. Cardboard and heavy packing tape. It can¡¯t possibly be for me-I haven¡¯t ordered anything-but the name on the package is mine.


    I wrestle the giant package into my living room. I¡¯m sweating by the time I finally grab a pair of scissors from the kitchen and begin opening it.


    To find the giant thing surrounded in bubble wrap.


    ¡°Is this a joke?¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    No one answers, of course, as I put the scissors to merciless use. By the time I have the thing uncovered, my living-room floor looks like World War Three has taken ce and it was exclusively fought in packaging materials.


    I take a step back to inspect it.


    It¡¯s the quote from my study, the one I have printed up and taped to the wall above my desk. Work in silence, let sess be your noise.


    But it¡¯s carved into beautiful wood, the finishing smooth and polished, the letters highlighted with color. It¡¯s gorgeous.


    Had he known it would arrive today, right as I¡¯de home from going through mypany¡¯sunch n? I look through my purse in search of my phone, to call Cole and say thank you. That he¡¯d remembered and thought about this.


    It¡¯s beyond thoughtful.


    The buzzer of my inte rings, but I¡¯m not expecting anyone. Hesitantly, I press down the button to answer. ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Did you get my gift?¡±


    It¡¯s not Cole¡¯s voice on the other line, not even Skye¡¯s. It¡¯s Nick¡¯s.

 Billion Dollar Beast 49

    Even mangled through the bad reception of the inte, the gravelly texture of it raises goose bumps on my arms.


    ¡°Yes. It just arrived.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± A pause. ¡°Can Ie up?¡±


    I look around my space, at the packaging, the clothes on the back of the couch. At my ownckluster outfit.


    ¡°Yes.¡± There¡¯s really no other possible answer to that question.


    I know exactly how long it takes a person to get from the bottom of my building to the top, if the elevator is there waiting for them. It¡¯s about seventeen seconds.


    Seventeen seconds to look myself in the mirror and realize that I need to run a brush through my hair. I apply Chapstick while I¡¯m at it, shoving the hamper with dirtyundry into the corner of the bathroom, and shutting the door firmly to my office.


    That¡¯s all I have time for, because then there¡¯s a knock on my front door and there he is. It¡¯s only been a week, and still, the sheer size of him hits me again. Tall and broad and intimidating.


    Nick doesn¡¯t speak. He just looks at the giant quote, unveiled on my living-room floor, his hands flexing at his sides.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be that big,¡± he says finally.


    I wrap my arms around myself. ¡°It¡¯s lovely.¡±


    He nods. ¡°How have you been?¡±


    ¡°Since west spoke?¡± It¡¯s a stupid question, because what else would he mean, but it slips out anyway, perhaps in lieu of the roughly four thousand other questions I want to ask. Why did you push me away? Why are you here? Why haven¡¯t you called?


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ve been working.¡± I look away from his face to the quote on the floor. It seems like it¡¯s easier to face for the both of us than each other. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that you and Cole aren¡¯t really speaking.¡±


    A twist of his mouth. ¡°No, not really.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that. That what we did affected your friendship. I never meant it to.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°That¡¯s not something you should apologize for.¡±


    ¡°ir, I¡­¡± He turns to me, running a hand over his hair. ¡°What I said to youst time, in the office¡­¡±


    He shakes his head again. ¡°I was afraid,¡± he says. ¡°Why is that so hard to say, damn it? I was afraid.¡±


    My hands itch again with the desire to touch him, to reach for his hand, to slip my arm through his. I don¡¯t. ¡°You were?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I do push people away. I have forever. It¡¯s usually better that way.¡± He looks away from me, moving restlessly from side to side. ¡°And with you¡­ I¡¯m bound to fuck up in one way or another, ir. We both know that. It was safer to do it earlier rather thanter. Less damage that way.¡±


    I bite my lip to hide the hints of a smile. ¡°What if you don¡¯t fuck up?¡±


    He shoots me an exasperated look, and I hold up my hands. ¡°All right, all right. Let¡¯s say that you will.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. And you¡­ being with you would never be just something. It would be everything. You¡¯re that kind of woman.¡±


    ¡°I-¡±


    ¡°Yes, you are,¡± he says darkly, almost usingly, and I close my mouth. ¡°You deserve nothing less. And I don¡¯t know if I can be conventional. If I can do the parties and the photos and the mingling. But I want to try.¡±


    ¡°Try what, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Dating. You and me. This.¡± He extends a hand from me to himself, as if the chemistry between us was a visible thing. I suppose it almost has been, clear from the very beginning. ¡°If you¡¯ll have me.¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯ll have you?¡± I¡¯m stuck in the incredulity phase. The agitated, passionate Nick in front of me is one I¡¯ve never seen before.


    ¡°Yes, if you¡¯ll have me,¡± he repeats. ¡°Despite the fact that it¡¯ll mar your public reputation. Damn it, ir¡­ do you know why I pushed you away for all those years?¡±


    ¡°Self-preservation,¡± I whisper. My body still feels shell-shocked by the words I¡¯ve wanted to hear from him forever, and here they all are, pouring out like a sh flood, changing thendscape irrevocably.


    ¡°It was.¡± Nick steps closer, arge hand reaching up to tip back my head. His dark eyes are soft now, even if tension lingers on his features. ¡°If you¡¯d have been nice to me, if we¡¯d been friends¡­ I wouldn¡¯t have been able to stop myself from trying to get closer.¡±


    ¡°I would have let you,¡± I murmur.


    He closes his eyes, like the words bring him pain. ¡°I suspected as much,¡± he mutters. ¡°Good thing I stayed away.¡±


    My handse up to grip his jacket. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I would have fucked it up,¡± he says, ¡°and far worse than I have this time around.¡±


    I reach up on my tiptoes and put my arms around his neck. He leans into my touch, his eyes closing again, our foreheads touching. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard you talk this much in one go,¡± I murmur.


    He snorts. ¡°The monologue is over now.¡±


    ¡°It was very enlightening.¡±


    ¡°Was it?¡±


    ¡°Good. That was the intention.¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    I slide my hand down to thread my fingers through his and pull him to my couch. He sinks down beside me. ¡°But I don¡¯t understand one part.¡±


    ¡°Which one?¡±


    I lean back against the pillows and settle my legs over his. His hand reaches out to grip my thigh, like the contact is just as important to the both of us.


    ¡°Why were you afraid ofing close? Why did pushing me away feel safer?¡±


    He ys with the side-hem of my trousers. ¡°Is this a therapist¡¯s couch?¡±


    ¡°It could be,¡± I say, aiming for teasing. ¡°Lean back and let me ask the questions.¡±


    His lip curls slightly. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I could handle that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. There are too many pillows on this couch. They¡¯d only distract you.¡±


    ¡°They definitely would.¡± His fingers trail up my thigh, and even through the fabric, the warmth of his skin sends shivers through me.

 Billion Dollar Beast 50

    I sit up. His hands leave me only for a moment as I rearrange myself on top of him, a leg on either side of hisp. ¡°Wemunicate much better when we¡¯re touching,¡± I say.


    His hands settle on my hips. ¡°I¡¯ve noticed that, too.¡±


    ¡°Good thing we have no problem getting physical.¡±


    A thumb smooths up my ribcage. ¡°No problem at all.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    I run a hand through the shortness of his hair, down over the rough stubble of his jaw. ¡°Will you tell me something, at least? Where did you grow up?¡±


    ¡°Oregon,¡± he says. ¡°A tiny town.¡±


    ¡°Nothing to do and not enough money to go around. People were forever unemployed. Houses stood empty. Everyone wanted out and nobody knew how to leave.¡±


    I slip my hands inside his jacket and feel the quick beating of his heart. ¡°But you left.¡±


    His eyes harden. ¡°I did.¡±


    My mind fills in the rest of the story. Traveling north. Loans for college. Befriending Cole. Bing someone else in Seattle, someone with a penchant for ruthless sess.


    His hand bes a fist against my hip. ¡°There was no way I could stay there. And once I¡¯d left, no way I¡¯d let myself fail.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t,¡± I murmur, wondering if all the tales of Nichs Park, ruthless venture capitalist, ever get to the heart of the man. That he¡¯s doing this for survival and not solely ambition.


    ¡°Cole had the same chip on his shoulder.¡± Nick leans his head back against the couch, looking up at me through lidded eyes. ¡°Only his came from his old man and not the memory of crushing poverty.¡±


    I swallow hard, keeping my hands on his chest. It¡¯s strong and hard under my touch. ¡°Does he know this story?¡±


    ¡°He knows enough of it.¡±


    ¡°And what about your family?¡±


    He reaches out and touches my cheek gently, the back of a knuckle sliding over my jaw. ¡°Gone, a long time ago.¡±


    There¡¯s more there. Of course there is. But we have time, and for now¡­ I lean in and press my lips to his, pouring all my longing for him into that simple touch.


    He groans against my lips and his handse up to rest gently on my shoulder des. It¡¯s a kiss to seal, a kiss to start things. A we-will-have-many-more-of-these kind of kiss.


    His words are spoken against my lips. ¡°So you forgive me? For what I saidst week?¡±


    I kiss him in reply.


    And when he pulls away, hands knotting at my thighs, head bowed against my shoulder, I know what he needs. It¡¯s the same thing I ache for.


    I tug at his jacket and he obliges, pulling it off and tossing it aside. His hands grip the hem of my shirt and I lift my arms high, letting him pull it off.


    His hands burn against my bare skin. ¡°ir, I¡­¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    He lifts me up, held against his body, as we walk toward the bedroom. I don¡¯t stop kissing his neck as we do. It¡¯s been two weeks since we did this. Two weeks of wondering and indecision and wanting, and now that he¡¯s here, now that he¡¯s exined¡­


    His grip on my skin is tight. He kisses his way down to my bra and tugs at the cups, mouth settling over my nipples. I close my eyes at the sensations. Warmth races through my veins with each flick of his tongue.


    He continues downwards, kissing my stomach, hands on the buttons of my trousers. ¡°I¡¯ve missed your body so much,¡± he says against my skin. ¡°I¡¯ve been such an idiot.¡±


    Augh breaks through my haze of lust. ¡°We both have.¡±


    ¡°No, not you. Never you.¡± He pulls my trousers off and then he¡¯s back, kissing my lips, and I wrap my arms around him. He¡¯s hard against me. ¡°ir, I want to try.¡±


    I hitch my leg around his hip. ¡°I think you can do more than just try.¡±


    He breaks away from my lips tough darkly. ¡°I meant with us.¡±


    ¡°If I fuck up again¡­ don¡¯t hate me.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± I reach up and grip his face, a hand on either side. ¡°If you take me down off whatever pedestal you have me on.¡±


    His eyes narrow. ¡°ir-¡±


    ¡°I mean it. I¡¯m certainly not wless. I choose this, too. I choose you.¡±


    He rolls his hips once, pushing against me, and my breathes out in a small gasp. ¡°Say that again.¡±


    ¡°I choose you?¡±


    Laughing, I run my hands up his broad back, marveling at the feel of his muscles underneath his warm skin. ¡°I choose you,¡± I say. ¡°I choose you, I choose you-¡±


    And then he¡¯s kissing me again, and there isn¡¯t much thought left. Underwear is discarded and his hands, despite the roughness of the scarred palms, are soft on my skin.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he tells me when I open my mouth.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to protest.¡±


    He settles between my thighs. ¡°Sure you weren¡¯t.¡±


    But I wasn¡¯t. No, when his tongue begins its sensual assault, I rx entirely into the sensations. Want and lust and heat and beneath it all, joy. That he¡¯s here. That we¡¯ve talked. That there is suddenly an us, even if it¡¯s a new and fragile thing.


    His hands grip my hips to keep me from arching away from him as I shatter. He grins as he rises up between my legs.


    ¡°I knew you¡¯d eventually grow to love that.¡±


    ¡°You were right.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think it¡¯ll ever stop satisfying me.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± I say, and I¡¯m rewarded by his darkughter.


    He positions himself and then he¡¯s inside and there is no more talk. It¡¯s just this joining and our breath and the feel of his body against mine, warm andrge.

 Billion Dollar Beast 51

    Afterwards, he stretches out beside me and tucks me against his body. I rest my head against his shoulder and focus on calming my breathing. Beneath me, his heart is beating fast.


    ¡°You know what they¡¯ll say,¡± Nick says, his hand sweeping up my back.


    ¡°About us. About you and me.¡±


    For a moment, I wonder if I can feign ignorance. But then I nod. ¡°Perhaps a few of the gossip columns will. For about a week, until someone decides to get a very public divorce or a celebrity sex tape leaks.¡±


    Nick¡¯s voice rumbles through his chest. ¡°People will keep thinking it long after that. The narrative is as old as time. Seattle¡¯s darling socialite and the most despised investor on this side of the country.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±


    His arms tighten around me, but there¡¯s skepticism in his silence. I rise up on my elbow and meet his gaze. ¡°I genuinely don¡¯t. What do they know, anyway? About you, about me, about us?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Now, do I have to go get a decorative pillow so you can punch out your fears?¡±


    His face breaks into a wide smile. ¡°I¡¯d destroy the pillow.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all right. I have a hundred more.¡±


    ¡°So you don¡¯t mind? Truly? I thought you might, considering your strong reaction to all those criticsst time.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡± I lean in, rubbing my nose against his. It¡¯s a silly gesture, but it provokes another one of his rare smiles. ¡°Let them talk.¡±


    ¡°Your skin has gotten thicker.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m less afraid,¡± I say. ¡°Someone taught me that.¡±


    He leans back and puts an arm behind his head, the one not holding me. ¡°Funny. Someone taught me that, too.¡±


    For a moment, we just smile at each other.


    ¡°There¡¯s just one more thing,¡± I say.


    ¡°What are we going to tell Cole? We can¡¯t have you two avoiding each other indefinitely.¡±


    Nick¡¯s smile turns crooked. ¡°Well, about that¡­¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°I think he¡¯lle around.¡±


    I narrow my eyes at him. ¡°So you two have spoken?¡±


    ¡°Briefly. He made it clear that I should have chosen someone else for my¡­ affections, but having made the choice I did, I¡¯d better fix things. ¡®Make my sister happy,¡¯ I believe he said.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Thank God he told you to do that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it was very helpful,¡± Nick says. ¡°I would never have thought of that on my own.¡±


    And then I¡¯m smiling as I kiss him, and he¡¯s kissing me back, the ball of happiness in my chest near bursting.


    A few weekster


    ¡°Are you really sure?¡±


    I roll my eyes at the question. It¡¯s not the first time she¡¯s asked today. ¡°Yes, of course I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ir slips her arm under mine. ¡°Well, if it gets too much¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not that weak.¡± I lean down, pushing her hair back so I can whisper in her ear. ¡°If anything, you¡¯re the one who should be nervous.¡±


    ¡°I should?¡±


    ¡°Nobody will dare ask me about our rtionship. You¡¯ll be the one fending off questions.¡±


    Her smile falters, but then her eyes re with triumph. The hand on my arm digs in. ¡°I won¡¯t let you leave my side, then.¡±


    ¡°Think you can stop me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve been practicing,¡± she warns. Yes, that she has indeed. Curious as ever, ir has joined my sessions with my kickboxing trainer twice a week. At first, I¡¯d agreed just to humor her, but seeing her with braided hair, determination in her eyes, sweat glistening on her skin¡­ yeah. It had been a good idea.


    ¡°That you have.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± she says, reaching up to fix thepels of my jacket. I can¡¯t resist. ¡°Are you stalling?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says, but her lips quirk at the corners. ¡°I¡¯m just making sure we make the best possible entrance.¡±


    Looking down at her dress, at the matching pocket square in my suit jacket¡­ she¡¯s already gone all out. ¡°Come on, coward,¡± I say, pushing the front door open. ¡°After you.¡±


    We step into Winter Wondend. Gone is Cole and Skye¡¯s tastefully decorated foyer. A giant Christmas tree is front and center, an assortment of silver baubles evenly spaced. The staircase is fringed with winter-green gands. In the air, the scent of cinnamon and mulled wine hangs heavily.


    ¡°Oh,¡± ir breathes. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    It is. The warm Christmas lighting is giving her blonde hair, loose around her face, an almost luminous sheen. ¡°Yes.¡±


    An attendant takes our jackets as a singer begins to softly croon ¡°All I Want for Christmas¡± from the built-in stereo system. I wonder who Cole¡¯s invited this time. You never know who you¡¯ll encounter at an event where he¡¯s had a hand on the invites.


    ir¡¯s fingers thread through mine. The gesturees naturally to her now, as does throwing an arm around my shoulders while I¡¯m working, or sitting down on myp instead of a free chair. The easy, trusting way she touches me never fails to strike me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go say hello,¡± she says.


    We head into the living room. There¡¯s a smaller Christmas tree here in the corner, but this one looks decidedly more homey. None of the baubles match. Definitely the work of Skye and Timmy and not any party decorators.


    One after one, the gathered guests begin to notice us. First ir. Then me. And finally our joined hands.


    It¡¯s almostical, the surprise in their eyes when they piece it together. While most of the people here know ir quite well, very, very few know me at all.

 Billion Dollar Beast 52

    Yes, this had been an excellent ce for this.


    ir pulls me along to say hello to her cousin. Hugs ensue, and I shake a few hands, introducing myself to people I might have met before but have forgotten, either way.


    ir¡¯s cousin gives her a very unsubtle nce, eyes briefly flicking back to me. The message is clear. You two? Why haven¡¯t you told me?


    I smile. Yes, ir will practically be drowned in questions after this. I look forward to hearing a few of her replies for myself.


    Cole finds me a whileter, leaning against one of the walls. Silently, he hands me a ss of brandy. ¡°Thought you might need something a bit stronger.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not about to bolt.¡±


    ¡°Just in case,¡± he says, his grin wolfish. ¡°So you two chose to upstage my Christmas party, huh?¡±


    ¡°It was ir¡¯s idea. I don¡¯t really care where we e out,¡¯ as she so tactfully phrased it, but she thought this was the best ce for it.¡±


    Strike, likely bewildered by all the people, weaves through legs toe sit at Cole¡¯s feet. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, paws too big for his body. ¡°Hi, buddy,¡± Cole says. ¡°Yes, well, perhaps she was right about that.¡±


    I take a sip of my brandy. It¡¯s far more grounding than the champagne I had earlier; Cole knows me well. ¡°Is it still weird?¡±


    He raises an eyebrow. ¡°You dating my sister?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And if so, at what point does it stop being weird to you, do you think?¡± I¡¯m pushing it, perhaps. He¡¯s been very good these past few weeks, never once mentioning anything about ir and me in front of her. The four of us have even been out to dinner together-all of one time. It¡¯s been grating on ir. In her mind, I think she always envisioned this as a seamless thing.


    Cole leans on the wall beside me. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he says. ¡°I know you independently, and I know her independently, and seeing you together¡­ I just don¡¯t know.¡±


    I nod. It¡¯s not unexpected, but it still stings a little bit, especially knowing that I¡¯m not who he would have chosen for his sister.


    So I can¡¯t resist. ¡°You used to say that you wanted us to get along better.¡±


    He shoots me a withering re and I hold up my hands in apology. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help myself. As long as I don¡¯t get my godparent-to-be status revoked.¡±


    Shaking his head, he swirls his whiskey around in his ss. ¡°It¡¯s not revoked. And if you want my honest opinion¡­ I¡¯m cautiously optimistic. She¡¯s glowing with happiness, you know. And she¡¯s more determined than ever with her work. I do think you have a little bit to do with that. And you¡¯re¡­ well, Nick, you don¡¯t scowl quite as much.¡±


    Selfish, vain pride courses through me at the glowing with happinessment. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯ll be right here to tell you off if you fuck up.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.¡±


    ¡°And if it¡¯s still going well in a few months¡¯ time, I¡¯ll consider letting the two of you stay in the chalet.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°How magnanimous of you.¡±


    ¡°Skye keeps telling me the signs were all there. I knew before they knew, she says, like she¡¯ll get some sort of medal.¡± He snorts. ¡°Worst part is, perhaps she¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°She might be. She¡¯s intuitive, your wife.¡±


    Cole nods. ¡°Perhaps I was just blind. If I hadn¡¯t been so sure you two disliked each other, so sure that you wereplete opposites, I wouldn¡¯t have been so surprised.¡±


    ¡°She surprised me too,¡± I say.


    ¡°And the more I think about it, the more sense the two of you make.¡± He shakes his head again, but this time, there¡¯s a small smile on his face. ¡°To think I might one day call you brother-inw.¡±


    ¡°Imagine that,¡± I say. His voice hadn¡¯t sounded entirely displeased, either.


    ¡°And you¡¯re not cringing from that statement, either? Christ. The world really has turned upside down.¡±


    ¡°It has. You¡¯re a father in, what, four months?¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    ¡°Four months, two weeks, and six days.¡±


    ¡°Not counting at all, are you?¡±


    He takes another sip of his whiskey, his eyes focused on Skye now. The burgundy dress fits snugly around her baby bump. ¡°I¡¯m a shameless counter,¡± he says, voice far away. ¡°I even have one of those apps that lets me follow along.¡±


    I shake my head at him, but it¡¯s good-natured, and when my eyesnd on ir again¡­ She really is glowing. Talking to Skye, her arms gesturing as she discusses some topic. It¡¯s easy for my mind to imagine her round with child, instead. My child.


    Dear God.


    ¡°We really are whipped,¡± I note.


    Cole snorts beside me. ¡°dly.¡±


    Ethan finds us like that. He¡¯s be a staple on Cole¡¯s guest lists and an increasinglymon tennis opponent. I¡¯ve found that I don¡¯t mind at all. The man has a decent backhand and an indecent sense of humor. Too bad he¡¯s a single dad with basically no time for ying.


    With a brandy ss of his own, he nods at the guests. ¡°I¡¯ve said it before, but you throw excellent parties, Porter.¡±


    Cole tears his gaze away from his wife to nod at Ethan. ¡°You should try it sometime. We¡¯re practically neighbors, and yet I¡¯ve never been to yours. At this point it¡¯s practically an insult.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s smile is crooked. ¡°Yes, well, I have two little hooligans at home who have ck belts in wreaking havoc.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have one soon, too,¡± Cole points out.


    ¡°Yes, but I hate to break it to you, they don¡¯t do much for the first year.¡±


    ¡°They really only graduate to hooligan level after the year and a half mark,¡± Ethan says.


    ¡°And what are they when they¡¯re teenagers?¡± I ask dryly.


    Ethan pretends to shudder. ¡°I have no idea yet, thankfully. Terrorist, perhaps? I should begin to prepare.¡±


    ¡°Build a safe room under your house,¡± Cole suggests. ¡°Surely Greenwood zoning regtions allow that?¡±


    I slip away quietly from the discussion of paternal struggles to find ir. She¡¯s no longer talking to Skye or her mother, but rather engaged in an animated discussion with a few of her friends. I recognize them instantly.


    This should be good.


    Coming up behind her, I revel in their wide-eyed gazes as I wrap an arm around her waist. Touching her grounds me-there¡¯s no other way to describe it.

 Billion Dollar Beast 53

    She looks up at me with warm, golden-brown eyes. ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°Hi. What are we talking about?¡±


    The friend across from her-I think her name is Maddie-gives me a hesitant smile. I vaguely remember her from a wedding months ago. Her smile had been flirty then. ¡°Well, we were discussing¡­ the candied apples. They¡¯re served in the dining room. Have you had one yet?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say seriously. ¡°I haven¡¯t.¡±


    Two of the men standing by her side shuffle from side to side, a tad uneasy.


    ¡°Come,¡± ir tells me. ¡°Let me show you.¡±


    She pulls me into the considerably less crowded dining room. ¡°Oh my God, thank you for getting me out of there.¡±


    ¡°Anytime.¡± Reaching up, I run a tendril of her golden hair through my fingers. ¡°What exactly was I saving you from? I thought you liked your friends.¡±


    ¡°You used to call them a posse,¡± she teases. ¡°A clique.¡±


    ¡°Yes, because they love you for your attention. And perhaps because I was jealous.¡±


    Her smile stretches wider. ¡°We were talking about you. They couldn¡¯t believe I¡¯d kept it a secret. They couldn¡¯t really believe it at all, actually.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll likely tell everyone.¡±


    ¡°Most probably,¡± she says. ¡°Maddie can¡¯t keep a secret to save her life.¡±


    There¡¯s no trace of resignation on her face-only a teasing smile and glittering eyes. ¡°Well, I have to say, calling you mine in public has a nice ring to it,¡± I say.


    ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± And then, not caring who¡¯s in the room or who¡¯s watching, I bend down to press my lips to hers. She kisses me back, arms circling my neck, sweeter than any Christmas candy. Funny how this never gets old, having her lips to explore and her warm mouth opening for me.


    She sighs softly against me. ¡°You know, I really love you,¡± she murmurs.


    The words are like a detonation. They bounce around in my head, my mind as resistant to them as a damn Teflon pan in a TV advert, refusing to stick.


    She can¡¯t love me. Not possibly. Not really.


    ir draws back with a smile. ¡°Knew you¡¯d react like that,¡± she teases. ¡°So I¡¯ll give you a week or two to think about them before I¡¯ll say it again.¡±


    I capture her lips with mine again. She loves me. And she¡¯s not the least bit concerned about saying it, about me reciprocating, or worried about what this will mean.


    If she¡¯s brave enough to say the words, then I¡¯m brave enough to ept them.


    She finally pulls away, her cheeks beautifully flushed. ¡°We are still at a party,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect that, well, that would be your response.¡±


    I tuck her into my side. She loves me. I¡¯ll have to repeat it to myself over and over again until it bes real. ¡°ir, I¡­¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she says, putting a hand over my heart. ¡°I know. We have time.¡±


    Those might be the most beautiful words I¡¯ve ever heard.


    Epilogue


    ¡°A whole weekend without work,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m still not sure if I can do it.¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in Nick¡¯s voice when he replies. ¡°Yes, you can.¡±


    ¡°But what if there¡¯s an emergency? A server crashes, or an order form gets mixed up, or a newspaper urgently needs an interview?¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Your assistant knows to call you if there¡¯s an emergency,¡± he says. It¡¯s not the first time he¡¯s reassured me like this. ¡°And CEOs get to take vacations.¡±


    ¡°Neither you nor Cole took one for your first five years in business.¡±


    He puts down the suitcase and shuts the front door to the chalet with his foot. ¡°Be smarter than us,¡± he tells me. ¡°Just be here with me for a few days.¡±


    He¡¯s right. I reach up and press a kiss to his cheek, forcing away thoughts of orders and packaging and overhead. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. For theing few days, I¡¯ll be yours entirely, body, soul and mind.¡±


    ¡°I thought you always were.¡±


    Sticking out my tongue at him, I walk through the beautiful space. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the snow is falling softly. It¡¯s early March and prime season in Whistler. ¡°Hot tub right away?¡±


    Nick chuckles. ¡°Did you just read my mind?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. I¡¯ve been practicing.¡±


    As we get dressed and settled, my mind wanders back to thepany by its own ord. Theunch was just a month ago-and it¡¯s been nonstop work since then.


    And to my surprise¡­ it¡¯s doing really well.


    The newspapers I¡¯d spoken to were interested in full-page interviews and that really got the word out. And the young marketing expert I¡¯d hired-straight out of college, no less-was amazing. Ingenious, even. She¡¯d oncemented that my rtionship with Nick was helping my brand.


    He¡¯d had a field day with thatment.


    Smiling, I look over at Nick. He¡¯s tugging off his cable-knit sweater on the other side of the master bedroom. He¡¯d been there for theunch party, of course.


    And he¡¯d been far tougher than I¡¯d been. ¡°The banner is crooked,¡± he¡¯d pointed out.


    ¡°It is?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And something is off with the lighting.¡±


    I¡¯d caught his arm. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not good enough.¡± He¡¯d shrugged off my hands casually. ¡°I¡¯ll fix it. You should have the best.¡±


    And he had. In the midst of the preparations he¡¯d been there, barking orders right alongside me in the way that only he could.


    And theunch party was better for it.

 Billion Dollar Beast 54

    ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡± he asks, pulling on his trunks.


    My smile widens. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think I just kinda like you.¡±


    He smiles at that, too. Funny, how much more often he does that these days. ¡°tterer,¡± he says.


    ¡°And I¡¯m thinking that you must have enjoyed the email from the Adams, even if you refuse to admit it.¡±


    He rolls his eyes. ¡°Their approval doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying it does,¡± I say. At the same time, though, the fact that they had finallye around to seeing merit in what Nick had done-that B. C. Adams now has seventy stores operating nationwide and beginning to turn a tentative profit¡­ ¡°But it doesn¡¯t hurt. And saving apany must be a fun change of pace.¡±


    He reaches for me, pulling me into his side as we walk down the hallway. ¡°Fine-it was a nice email. Don¡¯t get your hopes up, though. I¡¯m already looking for anotherpany to butcher.¡±


    I snort. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have you any other way.¡±


    We uncover the hot tub, steam rising into the cold, freezing air. Snowdrifts frame the cleared patio, close enough to reach out and touch.


    Smiling angelically at Nick, I form a snowball.


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°You wanted me to rx.¡±


    ¡°Rx, not fight.¡± He climbs into the hot tub, the width of his shoulders rising out of the hot water. ¡°If you¡¯re itching for it, I can bring up our living situation again.¡±


    I drop the snowball and re at him. He chuckles, not bothered in the least by my death look. Hisughteres much more freely now.


    ¡°Fine, I won¡¯t,¡± he says. ¡°Now will you please get in here? It¡¯s killing me to see you in a bikini from so far away. I need ess.¡±


    Rolling my eyes at that, I climb into the hot tub after him. ¡°My apartment has everything I need,¡± I can¡¯t resist saying. ¡°My assistant has the space she needs, too. It¡¯s like a little headquarters.¡±


    ¡°So make it into that.¡±


    He¡¯s not joking. ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Turn it into your office and move in with me instead.¡±


    Slicing through the water, I cover the short distance to him and into his waiting arms. ¡°Into your apartment?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says, tucking me against hisrge form. ¡°It has absolutely no charm, as you¡¯ve pointed out enough times. No decorative pillows though, but that¡¯s really the only plus.¡±


    I elbow him and he rolls his eyes, the picture of reluctance. ¡°Fine, fine. You¡¯ll be allowed a few in our new ce. Choose wisely where you¡¯ll put them. Couch or bed, but you can¡¯t have both.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re cruel.¡±


    He presses a kiss to my temple. ¡°I don¡¯t care where we live, ir. Just as long as you¡¯re sleeping in my bed every night.¡±


    I rx into the warm water and his embrace. ¡°Well, I know I said I was dead-set against it¡­¡±


    ¡°But there is a ce in Cole and Skye¡¯s area for sale. I know it¡¯s too soon for us. But it did get me thinking¡­ perhaps Greenwood Hills wouldn¡¯t be so bad?¡±


    Nick snorts. ¡°So you want us to do the whole thing? White-picket fence and a dog and a baby on the way.¡±


    ¡°No dog,¡± I say. ¡°And no baby. Not yet, anyway. And the fence doesn¡¯t even have to be white. There are a ton of other possible colors, a whole rainbow of them. I¡¯m open to suggestions.¡±


    His hand toys with the side-knot of my bikini bottoms. ¡°I doubt the neighborhood association would allow for a rainbow fence,¡± he says. ¡°But like I said, I don¡¯t care much where we live. And being close to Cole and Skye¡­ well, I know it would make you happy.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention it¡¯ll make you happy, too,¡± I point out. ¡°No point in denying it.¡±


    He grumbles in response, but I know it¡¯s the truth. Nick and Cole are thick as thieves again, though it had taken a few months for the both of them to adjust to the new dynamic.


    My brother had even winked when he told us to take the chalet this weekend. ¡°Don¡¯t tear the ce downpletely,¡± he¡¯d said. I wasn¡¯t sure what I felt about that type of joke, but he was on board, and that¡¯s what mattered.


    ¡°Remember when we were up herest time, watching those ciers and ice caves?¡± I ask.


    ¡°They were gorgeous. Beyond anything I¡¯ve seen. And still¡­ I just kept thinking about how you¡¯d seen me as a grown woman for the first time the night before. It was the first time I¡¯d ever really felt hopeful where you were concerned.¡±


    His voice drops an octave, the huskiness in it settling in my stomach. ¡°Believe me, I have never seen you as anything else. That was the whole problem.¡±


    ¡°Even from the beginning?¡±


    His hands grip my waist, lifting me onto hisp. Our bodies fit easily together in the warm water. ¡°Even from the beginning.¡±


    ¡°I know that means you were basically pining for years, just like me, which isn¡¯t nice¡­ but it selfishly makes me a bit happy to hear, too.¡±


    His smile is crooked, a wet hand reaching up to cup my cheek. ¡°Of course it does.¡±


    Our kiss is sweet. They¡¯re increasinglymon, these soft kisses-ones that speak of a future. Not rushed and filled with instantaneous passion, although there¡¯s often plenty of that, too.


    ¡°There are no neighbors around, right?¡±


    Nick¡¯s eyes are heated as he looks from me to the wide expanse of snow-covered firs. ¡°No. An errant squirrel, perhaps. A moose.¡±


    ¡°They can watch.¡± I untie my bikini top, loving the way his eyes darken.


    His hands rece the dark fabric and our kisses turn from sweet to heated. He presses his face to my neck, lips on my skin. ¡°I love you.¡±


    Funny, how those words never stop affecting me, not when they¡¯re spoken in his gravelly voice. Especially not when his scarred hands are on my skin, and when it¡¯s just the two of us and a lifetime of togetherness to look forward to. He¡¯d said it about a month after I did, and when he did¡­ it was well worth the wait.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    ¡°I love you too,¡± I say, gasping as he undoes the knots of my bikini bottoms and pulls them out of the way.


    ¡°That was smart,¡± hements. ¡°Can¡¯t all your panties be like that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll consider it for the next collection.¡± My voice is breathless, hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers begin to move between my legs.


    ¡°One more thing,¡± he says.


    ¡°We¡¯ll live wherever you want. Hell, fill the ce with decorative pillows to your heart¡¯s content. But I want a small ceremony, ir. I know how you Porters like it big.¡±


    I roll my hips against him to emphasize those words and we bothugh for a moment, the husky sounds mingling in the cold air.


    Then his words break through my haze of desire. ¡°The ceremony?¡± Had I really heard that word from his lips?


    ¡°I will ask you one day, you know.¡± His voice is teasing, but his dark, heated eyes are serious.


    I rest my forehead against his. ¡°Wow,¡± I murmur, doing my best to hold on to this man, to the sensations he¡¯s making me feel, emotional and physical all at the same time.


    ¡°Nothing else to say? That¡¯s not like you.¡±


    ¡°Hinting at marriage? That¡¯s not like you, either,¡± I echo.


    Heughs, hands moving quicker now. Perhaps this was what he wanted to say. ¡°I¡¯ve decided something,¡± he says. ¡°Well, I decided it weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And what was that?¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m going to do this, I¡¯m going to do it right, ir. I¡¯m all in. So no more tip-toeing around me when you suggest couple¡¯s dinners. No more sly hints about wanting to go to Oregon and see my hometown.¡±


    I grimace. ¡°Not so sly after all?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the sneakiest,¡± he assures me. ¡°But there¡¯s no need. I¡¯m not about to bolt. Not now, and notter.¡±


    ¡°Good. Because you know I wouldn¡¯t let you,¡± I say, my words breaking into a gasp when his fingers circle a particrly sensitive spot. ¡°There¡¯s no ce you could go where I wouldn¡¯t find you and try to drag you out. Not even your own mncholy.¡±


    Nick presses his lips against mine. ¡°And I¡¯ll be your punching bag, whenever you need one.¡±


    Myughing reply is cut off entirely as he moves, as his fingers circle, forcing me to tighten my grip on his shoulders. And there¡¯s no fear at all in this surrender, not from him and not from me, with only the wide-open sky as our witness and the falling snow as ourpanion.


    The Seattle Billionaires series isn¡¯t over yet!

 Billion Dollar Catch 1

    *****


    House-sitting a mansion for the summer sounds easy, right?


    Until my rich, single dad neighbor catches me in apromising position.


    I¡¯d just taken off my bikini top.


    He¡¯s billionaire Ethan Carter, a living legend in the tech world and father to two adorable little girls.


    Oh, and he¡¯s the kind of ruggedly handsome that belongs in a calendar with firefighters and puppies. ¡°Wee to the neighborhood,¡± he says, grinning.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    The catch? He can afford to live here-I can¡¯t.


    Differences in ie and age make anything more unthinkable, not to mention he¡¯sing off a terrible divorce and has no time to himself.


    We agree we can¡¯t be anything more, even as neighborly drinks turn into not-so-neighborly kisses, and kisses turn into¡­ well.


    Let¡¯s just say he finds creative ways for us to use my kitchen counter.


    He doesn¡¯t know if he¡¯s ready to trust again.


    I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m ready to give my heart.


    But as summer ends, we might not have choice in the matter.


    *****


    Be


    You said I lied. Misled and deceived you, that I had ns to ensnare you from the very beginning. I can understand why you would see it that way, Ethan. I truly can.


    But I¡¯m just as confused as you are. Just at lonely. More, perhaps. And I have no idea how to handle this situation-you have more experience with this than I do!


    Maybe that¡¯s why it hurts so much that you haven¡¯t called me. Or maybe it¡¯s because my heart had found a home in you, and then you took you away, and all the ideas I¡¯d cautiously hoped into existence withered.


    You were angry, but it went so much deeper than that. There was hurt in your eyes too. You trusted me, and you don¡¯t do that often, and then it seemed like I broke that trust.


    But I didn¡¯t, Ethan-not truly, not in any deep way, and not in the way that matters most of all. Nothing about this is deliberate or nned. I hope you¡¯ll see that one day. If not for me, or for you¡­ for our child, at least.


    ****


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be staying here all summer?¡± Trina¡¯s voice echoes through the dining room. She rounds the chandelier-topped table,rge enough to seat King Arthur and all his knights.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, twirling in the adjoining hallway. Even with my arms extended, I don¡¯t touch any of the walls. ¡°It¡¯s amazing, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Amazing? It¡¯s mental. It should be a crime. You should be the one paying them.¡±


    Laughing, I grab her arm and pull her into the kitchen. It¡¯s an expanse of marble and gray cabs, of artfully arranged copper pots hanging over a six-ted stove.


    ¡°Look at this ce!¡±


    She reaches for her phone. ¡°I have to take a picture of this.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s so beautiful.¡± I open a set of the cab doors carefully. We can marvel, but it¡¯s still not my home. It¡¯s just mine for the summer. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to cook in this kitchen. The things I¡¯ll be able to make¡­¡±


    ¡°I volunteer as a taster,¡± Trina says. ¡°If you need one.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re always wee, as long as you-¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, I know. Take off my shoes and don¡¯t touch any ss surfaces.¡± She gives me a mock salute, but behind her sses, her eyes are glittering. ¡°I¡¯m still in shock that you found this job, if you can even call it that. I¡¯m happy for you.¡±


    ¡°So am I. It¡¯s an immense relief, actually.¡± When my ex hade home and announced he¡¯d found someone else, I hadn¡¯t wanted to spend another minute in our apartment. But that left me with nowhere to stay and not enough money to find a good short-term solution.


    So when this opportunity appeared on my screen-a Seattle-basedpany looking for house-sitters for the ultra rich-I¡¯d applied at the speed of light.


    ¡°Come out here!¡± Wilma calls. ¡°You have got to see this!¡±


    Trina is out the back door immediately, following the voice of our third friend. Already guessing what she¡¯s spotted, I follow along, grinning.


    Wilma is standing on the patio with a stunned Trina at her side. They¡¯re facing the backyard, if that¡¯s even the right word for it. A giant swimming pool glitters in the early summer sun. Four lounge chairs form a beautiful half-circle around an adjacent jacuzzi. Beyond it spreads awn impressively green even by Emerald City standards, neatly framed with arge hedge. We¡¯re in a walled paradise.


    It¡¯s Eden.


    ¡°Be,¡± Trina demands. ¡°I need a link to thepany who gave you this job, and I need it stat.¡±


    Wilma¡¯s tone is urgent. ¡°I need more than that. I need guaranteed visitation rights this summer. Every day off I¡¯ll be here, using this pool, and there¡¯s no way you can stop me. I¡¯ll give you anything.¡±


    ¡°Yes, anything,¡± Trina agrees. ¡°I¡¯ll proofread the final draft of your thesis.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve already agreed to do that,¡± I point out. ¡°I¡¯m reading yours at the moment!¡±


    ¡°Damn, that¡¯s right.¡±


    Wilma sinks down on one of the patio chairs. Her voice is dreamy. ¡°I can¡¯t understand why these people would leave their house all summer. They¡¯re really gone until the end of August?¡±


    ¡°Yes, for three straight months.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± She sweeps an arm out to the luscious surroundings, the scent of freshly mowed grass wonderfully thick in the air.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m guessing the Amalfi Coast beckoned? Who knows why the wealthy do what they do? I¡¯m just happy they do. Now I have a ce to stay and an extra ie.¡±


    Trina stretches out on the other patio chair, a hand over her eyes to guard from the sun. ¡°Not to mention a beautiful neighborhood. Have you seen your neighbors yet? This is your chance to get in with high society, you know.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Yes, because I¡¯d fit right in.¡±


    ¡°Hey, none of that attitude here. It¡¯s not worthy of this house.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Cocking my hip, I look down my nose at her. ¡°And speaking of attitude, I¡¯m not liking yours. Where¡¯s my Aperol Spritz?¡±


    She grins at me. ¡°That¡¯s more like it.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve kind of already met my neighbor.¡±


    ¡°You have?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I nod to the hedge on the right side of us. Thick and green and high, the only thing visible beyond it is the shingles of the roof. ¡°The man who lives there. At least, I think it was him.¡±


    Wilma, like a bloodhound when she scents a good story, straightens. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I was out here yesterday,¡± I say, nodding to the pool. ¡°My first day here. And the sun was so gorgeous, how could I not be out here swimming, you know?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Trina says. ¡°Anything else would have been a crime.¡±


    ¡°A cardinal sin,¡± Wilma agrees.


    ¡°And the hedges are very tall here. So I thought, maybe this summer will be the one where I¡¯ll finally manage to avoid any tan lines?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t!¡±


    ¡°I was in my own garden!¡± I say. ¡°Well, my is perhaps not the right word, but at the moment it is. So I took off my bikini top.¡±


    Trina¡¯s eyes are scanning the hedge, even as Wilma looks at me with wide eyes, like she can¡¯t believe I¡¯d do such a thing. ¡°There are no holes in those bushes,¡± Trina says resolutely. ¡°I¡¯m guessing where this story will go, but he can¡¯t have seen you.¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t looking through the hedge, Trina. He was in that tree.¡± I point to therge, curved oak that rises from the property on the other side. ¡°I looked over and there he was, sitting on a bough. I could see the top of adder, too.¡±


    Wilma¡¯s eyes grow even rounder. ¡°And he was watching you?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 2

    ¡°At that moment at least, yes, he was. Our eyes met.¡± A flush rises to my cheeks at the memory. Even across the distance, I¡¯d seen the wide smile on his face. He looked older than me, but probably not by much. And he¡¯d been¡­ well. Attractive.


    ¡°On purpose?¡±


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± I say. ¡°He had a yardstick and a saw in hand. Probably working on the tree.¡±


    ¡°Was he hot?¡±


    ¡°Did he wave?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and no. I covered up and hurried inside. He¡¯d gone when I got back out.¡±


    ¡°Holy shit.¡± Wilma sits back, nodding to herself. ¡°This is a golden opportunity, Be. You have to see that.¡±


    ¡°Opportunity?¡±


    ¡°Hot neighbor, check. An interested hot neighbor, check. A single Be, check check check!¡±


    ¡°There is no way anything will happen,¡± I say. ¡°Besides, we don¡¯t know if he lives there. He might have been the gardener.¡±


    Even as I say it, it seems unlikely. There had been something familiar in the set of his features, something in the smile¡­ where had I seen that before?


    ¡°Or not,¡± Trina says, pulling up her phone. ¡°Now, I know pretty much everyone who lives in this area¡­¡±


    ¡°You mean you know of them,¡± Wilma corrects, shooting me a wide smile. I return it. Trina is the queen of gossip.


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Yes, fine, of them. Greenwood Hills has all of Seattle¡¯s tech royalty. You know they check the tes of our cars out here, right? There¡¯s like twenty-four-hour security in this entire area. All the moguls and developers and the secretly rich live here. And the ostentatiously rich. They all have docks down on Lake Washington.¡±


    I snap my fingers. ¡°That¡¯s it. Tech. He might work in tech. I recognized his face, but I couldn¡¯t ce it.¡±


    ¡°Tech?¡±


    ¡°Yes. God, he might have been a guest lecturer at the university. Is that where I remember him from?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s just what he looked like, and only from a distance¡­¡± My mind searches through the countless hours of lectures I¡¯d sat through. As a PhD student of systems engineering, there had been quite a few during my academic career. But there was one, while I¡¯d been an undergraduate¡­N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    ¡°Carter!¡± I say. ¡°Hisst name is Carter.¡±


    Trina¡¯s fingers fly over her phone. ¡°Carter¡­. Ethan Carter?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°This is him.¡± She holds up her phone. The picture is of a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in a suit, green eyes staring into the camera. He¡¯s not smiling, but his mirth is there nheless, lurking in the corners of his mouth and at odds with the furrow between his brows.


    ¡°That is him.¡± I press my hands to my hot cheeks. ¡°Dear God, he¡¯s brilliant, and he saw me topless.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s your neighbor, Be, holy shit!¡±


    Rising from the chair, I shake my head at them. ¡°That¡¯s it. No more topless sunbathing out here.¡±


    ¡°No, even more topless sunbathing out here!¡± Wilma exims. ¡°Lose the bottoms, too!¡±


    I cross my arms over my chest. ¡°Absolutely not. God, I might want to work at hispany one day!¡±


    Trina¡¯s face is worse. It¡¯s filled with spection. ¡°Remember two weeks ago, at my birthday party?¡±


    I have no idea where she¡¯s going. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°And we yed that silly truth-or-dare game that Toby brought. It turned out quite fun.¡±


    ¡°It did,¡± I say, narrowing my eyes at her. Wilma is grinning.


    ¡°We dared you to-¡±


    ¡°I remember.¡±


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t do it. Fair enough,¡± she says, palms up. ¡°I totally get that. It was too much. But remember how you said rain check?¡±


    Damn it.


    Why do I have the friends I do?


    ¡°Well then, this is it. We¡¯re going to cash that in today,¡± she announces. ¡°Look, your neighbor is a good-looking guy, yes. But he¡¯s also a goddamn expert in his field. You¡¯ve taken a ss with him!¡±


    ¡°A guest lecture.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re new to the neighborhood. So here¡¯s the dare-bake some of your amazing muffins.¡±


    ¡°Or your blueberry pie,¡± Wilma interjects. ¡°Or the cinnamon buns!¡±


    ¡°Any one of those,¡± Trina agrees. ¡°And you make enough for your two best friends to taste. And after that, you go over and introduce yourself. Give him the goods. Say sorry for the little mishap in the garden. And tell him what you study.¡± She grins, pleased with her own brilliance.


    I stare back at her. As dares go, it¡¯s not the worst, but it¡¯s more daunting than any I¡¯ve done before. Seeing me waver, she holds up the picture of Ethan Carter again. It¡¯s the smile hidden in the corner of his lips that convinces me, and not the stark line of his jaw or the handsome set of his eyes.


    A man who smiles like he does wouldn¡¯t m the door in my face.


    ¡°All right,¡± I say, sounding braver than I feel. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. But there¡¯s no way you two will be here when I do.¡±


    Immediate howls of protest.


    ¡°No, I mean it. Nowe on. We have brownies to bake.¡±


    ¡°Brownies?¡±


    ¡°Yes. This is a high-risk mission. I can¡¯t afford to experiment, not here, not now. Men like chocte.¡±


    ¡°They do,¡± Trina confirms.

 Billion Dollar Catch 3

    ¡°Everyone does,¡± Wilma adds.


    Steel in my spine, I march into the pristine kitchen and its five-thousand-dor oven. ¡°Bring out the mixing bowls,¡± I dere. ¡°We have eggs to beat.¡±


    The dramatic moment is undercut when we all stand there, staring at the beautiful knob-less cupboards. None of us have a clue where things are, not to mention how to open some of the melt-into-the-wall pantry doors. But just like we figured out our Orientation Week, we¡¯ll figure out this kitchen-together.


    It¡¯ste afternoon by the time we have the perfect batch of brownies cooling on a tray. ¡°They look delicious,¡± Wilma says.


    ¡°You can have one,¡± I say. ¡°Actually, take a few.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to say that twice.¡± Trina leans against the kitchen ind, a stic binder in her hands. ¡°So these are your instructions?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the house-sitting manual. It has all the information about this ce.¡± Winking, I snatch it out of her hands. ¡°Including confidential information.¡±


    She grins at me. ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything important. Well, apart from the preferred pH-value in the pool. But I promise I¡¯ll take the information to my grave.¡±


    A soft meow echoes in the kitchen. ¡°Ah! There you are!¡± I crouch down, moving slowly toward the sleek, gray cat. ¡°My roommate!¡±


    The cat looks unimpressed.


    ¡°You¡¯re a cat-sitter too?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s part of why they wanted someone here, to keep himpany.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡±


    Giving up on trying to pet the cat-he¡¯s flicking his tail and looks ready to bolt-I reach for the manual. ¡°It must be in here somewhere. It was on the page with feeding instructions. Toast!¡±


    ¡°Toast?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s his name.¡±


    We look at the cat, now stretched out on the carpet, his tawny eyes staring back at us.


    ¡°Rich people,¡± Wilma deres, as if that exins everything. ¡°And speaking of rich people¡­ it¡¯s time for us to leave and for you to knock on a certain someone¡¯s door.¡±


    I give a mock groan. ¡°I can¡¯t. I¡¯ve forgotten how to knock.¡±


    ¡°Be, you promised.¡±


    So I did.


    Ethan Carter. I¡¯m just going to go say hi to Ethan Carter, my neighbor. One of Seattle¡¯s most impressive tech icons. A pioneer in the field of technical mechanics. Who just happens to be my neighbor for the next three months.


    And who has seen me topless.


    ¡°I did promise,¡± I say. ¡°And that means you have to go now, before Ipletely lose my nerve.¡±


    Wilma jumps down from the barstool and Trina gives me a nod, the kind a team yer gives to another in the heat of the game. ¡°You got this,¡± she says.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Reaching over, she smooths my fringe into ce. The curtain bangs had been aplete impulse decision just two weeks ago, but I like them. They frame my face. They¡¯re a change. New hair, new me.


    ¡°You look gorgeous,¡± she says. ¡°Nice choice of dress.¡±


    ncing down at the sundress I¡¯d put on this morning, I have to agree. It¡¯s probably the one thing I own that has spaghetti straps. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Text us the second after you¡¯re done, and tell us everything,¡± Wilma says. ¡°Oh! I almost forgot, I brought you those pills you asked for.¡±


    ¡°The herbal sleeping aids?¡± I ask. Across the counter, Trina raises an eyebrow at me. We¡¯d had an intense discussionst time we were together about whether Wilma¡¯s new fascination with herbs had any scientific basis.


    ¡°Yes.¡± She puts a bottle down on the counter, a picture of leaves on the front. ¡°They¡¯ll help you sleep, I promise.¡±


    I turn it over in my hand. ¡°I¡¯m willing to try,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t handle having to lie awake for hours much longer.¡±


    ¡°Consequence of your break-up,¡± Trina points out.


    ¡°Yes, but an annoyingly persistent one.¡± Searching through the pantry for arge tter, I start arranging the brownie slices. ¡°Thanks, Wilma.¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    They leave with good-luck wishes and the roar of an old engine. Looking at myself in the gold-framed mirror in therger-than-life hallway, I decide I look pretty good. Presentable. The girl-next-door, I think, smiling at my own little joke. A big te of brownies in hand and nerves dancing in my stomach.


    As much as I might groan, Trina had been spot-on with this dare.


    Locking the giant door behind me, I leave one imposing house for another. My neighbor¡¯s house is just asrge.


    A white vi rises up behind the gates. Gray shutters. Arge porch. That¡¯s pretty much all I can see through the fence.


    The curb appeal in this area is seriously high, if your particr thing is fences and gates.


    I press the button to the inte with a heart that threatens to gallop off and leave me behind in the dust.


    A softly ented voice answers. ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Be, I just moved in next door and wanted to introduce myself. I brought brownies.¡± Stupidly, I lift the te up high to the miniscule camera, as if the sight of gooey chocte might help my case.


    Silence stretches on.


    God, I¡¯ve miscalcted. These people don¡¯t do things like this. They don¡¯t have yard sales or exchange baked goods, and they sure as hell don¡¯t let strangers into their gated little slices of paradise. Greenwood Hills doesn¡¯t work like this.


    But then microphone static reaches me, and the same female voice rings out. ¡°Come on up to the main door, sweetheart.¡±


    The wrought-iron gate swings open.


    That must have been his wife. Stupidly, the realization hits with faint disappointment. The thought of the smile ying along the edge of his lips had been intriguing. How would you draw it out? What would be the right joke?


    I stop outside a beautifully carved wooden door. It seems a shame to have houses this beautiful when nobody can see them from the curb.


    The door swings open and I¡¯m greeted by a smiling, ck-ddy in her mid-fifties. Her dark hair is pulled back in a bun. ¡°Hello,¡± she says. ¡°Be?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 4

    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sorry to juste knocking like this. I moved in just yesterday, and I-¡±


    ¡°I know. I saw you unpacking.¡± Thedy waves me into the hallway. ¡°Wee to the neighborhood.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, a sigh of relief escaping me. ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful ce.¡±


    ¡°It really is. I¡¯m Maria,¡± she says, ¡°and I work for Mr. Carter. He¡¯ll be with you in just a bit.¡±


    ¡°Here he is!¡± The voice is rich, expansive. It fits perfectly with the man I¡¯d seen the picture of just a few hours ago. Hees striding down the hallway.


    The years since I¡¯d sat in the lecture hall and listened to him speak have made him even more impressive, the soft fabric of his sweater clinging to a wider chest.


    And his smile.


    It¡¯s there, lurking at the edge of his mouth and ying in the depths of intelligent eyes. Yes, he remembers me. The topless girl next door. To my horror, my cheeks heat up.


    ¡°Mr. Carter,¡± Maria says. ¡°This is the girl you told me to let in.¡±


    ¡°Be Simmons,¡± I say, extending a hand and trying not to drop the giant te of brownies. Why had I decided to bring so many? It looks like I¡¯m supplying a bakery.


    ¡°Ethan Carter.¡± He gives my hand a firm shake, his skin warm. ¡°Wee to the neighborhood.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I breathe, relief sweeping through me. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest, I wasn¡¯t sure if this wasmon practice here. Saying hi to your neighbors when you¡¯re new and all. I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve justmitted an unspeakable faux pas.¡±


    His eyes flick down to the te in my arms. ¡°We usually execute people on sight for this, but you brought brownies, so I¡¯ll make an exception.¡±


    If I wasn¡¯t still so nervous, I¡¯d beughing at that. ¡°Consider it a peace offering, then.¡±


    ¡°Getting heavy?¡± He reaches out and takes the te from me.


    ¡°A bit. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Although I suppose I should be the one with a peace offering.¡± Holding the te in one arm, Ethan reaches up and runs a hand through his hair. The smile lurking on his lips is more pronounced now. ¡°I hope you know I wasn¡¯t in that tree to spy on you.¡±


    My cheeks re up. ¡°Right. I didn¡¯t think you were. I mean, you had a measuring tape.¡±


    ¡°Flimsy evidence, but I¡¯m d you believe me.¡± His smile is wide now. ¡°I was location scouting for a treehouse.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s lovely.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m d you think that. I¡¯m not sure what your-parents? Aunt and uncle?-will think when they get back. It¡¯ll overlook their property.¡±


    My response slips out before I can stop it. Caught in his gaze, soothed by the deep tenor of his voice, there¡¯s no way I can tell this multi-billionaire that I¡¯m a homeless house-sitter. ¡°Aunt and uncle,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m watching the house for them this summer. Three months.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very nice of you,¡± hements.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a very nice house.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s grin widens. ¡°Good point.¡±


    Up close, he¡¯s somehow more imposing at the same time as he¡¯s less so. He¡¯s flesh and blood, tanned skin and curving lips and smile lines around his eyes. But he¡¯s also clearly a man, one who wears cologne and a twenty-thousand-dor watch and manages a billion-dor business.


    ¡°So,¡± he says, snapping me out of my admiration, ¡°do you work around here? Or do you-¡±


    A childish shriek sounds somewhere in the background. It echoes down the hall to us, followed by padding feet and Maria¡¯s low voice. Somewhere in the house, a door ms.


    Ethan sighs. ¡°I¡¯d better go. My oldest just learned how to dramatically shut doors from some TV show.¡±


    ¡°Ouch,¡± I say.


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯d have a choice word with the writer of that kids¡¯ show if I could.¡±


    I head back to the front door, unable to let him go yet. ¡°Kids, huh? That¡¯s who the treehouse is for?¡±


    The ever-lurking smile breaks out, spreading across his features. It transforms him. He¡¯s weing and strong and why had I been nervous for this?


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m not nning on building one for myself, Be.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank God,¡± I say, the teasing words escaping me. ¡°That would have made you seem like a professional peeper.¡±


    ¡°Thankfully not a profession I¡¯ve ever wanted to pursue.¡±


    Another shriek echoes down the hallway, and he looks over his shoulder. I open the front door and step outside. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ll leave. See you around, and thank you.¡±


    His smile is indulgent now. Am I rambling? ¡°Bye, Be,¡± he says, the deep voice washing over me. ¡°Thank you for the brownies.¡±


    I make it back to my giant house in an awestruck daze. Toast meows for food at my feet. ¡°Yes,¡± I tell him. ¡°Right. We have a job to do here.¡±


    And I do. House-sit. Make money. Finish PhD thesis. Figure out my future.


    Developing a pointless crush on my no-doubts-already-taken neighbor is nowhere on that list.


    Ethan


    ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± Cole says. ¡°No way at all. You have the time to get out there. You have a nanny, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, looking at my friend over the rim of my whiskey ss. For Cole Porter, who has a three-month-old infant, a nanny likely seems like the perfect solution. But when your kids are six and three, they need a bit more interaction.


    ¡°So use her,¡± he insists. ¡°You need to get out there. Life shouldn¡¯t be lived alone, man.¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± I say. ¡°And this ising from happily-married and soon-to-be-married over there?¡±


    Nick grimaces at that. The man is a renownedmitment-phobe, but over thest couple of months he¡¯s settled into an unconventional rtionship with Cole¡¯s little sister. Unconventional in that it¡¯s a rtionship, period-and for Nichs Park, that¡¯s a big thing.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to find someone to marry,¡± Nick says. ¡°Hell, can you even have one-night stands as a single dad?¡±


    I scowl into my drink. They mean well, but we¡¯re getting into territory I don¡¯t like to discuss. ¡°You can,¡± I say. ¡°At out-of-town conferences.¡±


    ¡°How emotionally fulfilling,¡± Cole remarks.

 Billion Dollar Catch 5

    ¡°You need it regrly,¡± Nick says.


    I lean back in the leather chair and look at them through narrowed eyes. ¡°And when did you two be such experts, anyway? You were both inveterate bachelors until a few years ago. Besides, I have kids. It¡¯s different for me.¡±


    Cole nods, like he¡¯s some goddamn expert after three months of fatherhood. ¡°Sure is.¡±


    I shake my head at him. ¡°You have a wife who thinks you walk on water and a host of staff.¡±


    He grins, unashamed. ¡°Yes,¡± he says, ¡°and I¡¯m loving every second of it. But with a bit of dating, that could be you.¡±


    Nick reaches over and touches his ss to mine. Taller than both Cole and me, and with a wolfish glint to his eyes, he¡¯s not a man to trifle with. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to the man,¡± he tells me. ¡°He won the tennis match earlier. You know how he gets.¡±


    I give a sage nod, knowing it¡¯ll infuriate Cole. Thepetitive nature between us runs deep-and ever since I¡¯d be a semi-regr at their tennis matches, that tension had only increased.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to date,¡± I say. ¡°Another timemitment? Shoot me. Besides, I have no interest in the women who frequent your parties. No offense, Cole.¡±


    He grins. ¡°None taken. I didn¡¯t fish from that pool myself either, so to speak.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not all bad,¡± Nick says, narrowing his eyes at Cole.


    Predictably, he rolls his eyes. ¡°I thought it was obvious that I didn¡¯t include my sister in that statement.¡±N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    ¡°Neither did I,¡± I add, knowing from experience how defensive Nick is of ir¡¯s reputation.


    Cole turns his attention back to me. The setting sun bathes his backyard in golden light, a fellow Greenwood Hills resident. ¡°All right,¡± he says. ¡°There¡¯s no one around but Nick and me. Be honest. When was thest time you gotid?¡±


    I lean back in my chair. The sky is a beautiful deep orange as I look to the heavens for help. I receive none. ¡°I¡¯m not answering that.¡±


    ¡°Talking about it might help,¡± Nick points out, contained amusement in his voice. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m told all the time these days. Communication helps.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not holding a damn feeling stick and telling you two about my sex life.¡± Orck thereof. Thest one-night stand had been¡­ seven months ago on a business trip to New York. But they don¡¯t need more fodder for their amusement.


    They continue talking like I¡¯m not there. Cole wants to set me up with someone-something about an old college friend¡¯s cousin-and gets so far into nning that I¡¯m forced to zone back into the conversation.


    ¡°Out of the question. I have my two girls and I¡¯m perfectly happy with that.¡± I drain my ss of whiskey and ignore the pang that apanies the statement. I am more than happy with my daughters. I wouldn¡¯t trade them for anything in the world-not even the world itself. And yet, there is a small part of me that sees what Nick and Cole have, and thinks¡­


    No. I¡¯ve had too much to drink if I¡¯m unraveling into self-pity like this.


    ¡°I¡¯d better go,¡± I say, rising from thewn chair. ¡°See you around, assholes. And the next time, I don¡¯t want to hear another word about how lonely you think I am.¡±


    I find my own way past Cole¡¯s house and onto therge driveway in the front. Shutting the gate behind me, I begin the short walk from his house to my own.


    The lots in Greenwood Hills might be big, and the area heavily forested, but we¡¯re not many who live here. All that spaciousness makes for a beautiful environment to raise kids. That¡¯s why I¡¯d bought the house originally, when Lyra had been pregnant with Haven.


    I snort at the memory. My ex-wife had been disappointed that the house didn¡¯t have waterfront ess to Lake Washington, and it hadn¡¯t helped when I told her those houses only go on the market once a century.


    But then again, Lyra had only ever been after the money and status I could provide. Getting pregnant had been an excellent method to get her hands on it.


    Walking onto my cul-de-sac, I nce at the house next to mine. Be Simmons¡¯s new home for the summer. She was infinitely preferable to her aunt and uncle, who had never once smiled or said hello in the years I¡¯d lived here. Not that I¡¯d ever made much of an effort back, to be fair. I couldn¡¯t really remember what they looked like.


    But Be, I remember perfectly.


    Thick, brown hair and big doe eyes. Long legs, fair skin. It had been creamy in the sunlight, the day I¡¯d seen her tanning. It had been from quite a distance, yes, but I¡¯d have to be blind to be unmoved by the sight of her body in nothing but a pair of bikini bottoms. Soft-looking skin and pink nipples.


    I shake my head at my own leering thoughts as I unlock the front gate to my property. I¡¯m the one in the wrong. Spying on her from the tree, idental or not. Having lustful thoughts.


    Talking to her hadn¡¯t helped.


    She¡¯d stood right here in my hallway, her cheeks flushed, holding a tray of brownies made just for me. Rambling in her speech and gorgeous in her sundress. Sweet and young and clearly not for me.


    Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor¡¯s niece, I think, snorting. Perhaps Nick and Cole had been on to something when they told me to find at least semi-regr femalepany. But where would I find the time?


    The house is quiet when I open the front door. Haven and Evie had been sound asleep when I left, Maria reading in the room between theirs in case they needed anything. There are rms and safety cameras aplenty. I¡¯d just been across the street, too. But I don¡¯t fully rx until I walk past their bedrooms, peering in to see their small, sleeping forms.


    I¡¯d been right. There is no way I could have anything to do with dating, not when my heart-and my schedule-is already this full.


    But that doesn¡¯t stop me from heading to the kitchen and grabbing one of those delicious chocte squares to eat, my thoughts drifting to the beautiful brte who¡¯d made them.


    A man could still fantasize, right?


    ¡°No, you¡¯re staying here.¡±


    Toast looks up at me like my mere existence is a personal insult. I press my leg into the half-opened front door and remember exactly why I¡¯m more of a dog person.


    ¡°You¡¯re not getting out. Not on my watch. They printed it in bold and underlined in the instructions I got.¡±


    Toast bumps his head against my leg, and not affectionately. ¡°No,¡± I say again. ¡°Now, I¡¯m going to pull my leg back to shut this door. Do you promise me you won¡¯t try to stick a paw in or something? I don¡¯t want you getting hurt. Just think of how much a visit to the vet would mess up your day.¡±


    Not to mention mine.


    Toast sits down, looking up at me angelically. I¡¯m not buying it. It might be a ploy.


    ¡°Okay now.¡± I pull the door shut slowly, inch by inch. ¡°I¡¯ll be back tonight. Don¡¯t break any vases.¡±


    And then, at thest second, a loud meow. But the door is shut. Breathing a sigh of relief, I lock it behind me.


    ¡°If this is to be a daily thing,¡± I tell the shut door and the devious cat behind it, ¡°then I think I deserve a raise.¡±


    There¡¯s no response. Hoisting my bag up higher on my shoulder, I search through my pockets for my car keys. Should be here somewhere¡­


    I find the keys and unlock the door to my 2007 Honda Civic. It¡¯s an old madam, this car. Possibly one of the least shy cars this neighborhood-and this specific driveway-has ever seen.


    Sliding into the driver¡¯s seat, I look down at my watch. I still have plenty of time. While there are no sses over the summer, I still have regr meetings with my supervisors, and they don¡¯t appreciateteness.


    I turn the key in the ignition.


    Nothing happens. The nothingness is pretty spectacr, actually. Not the faintest sound of an engine.


    ¡°Not you too,¡± I tell it, thinking of Toast¡¯s escapist stunts. ¡°Behave.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 6

    I take a deep breath before I turn the key again.


    The engine doesn¡¯t so much as make a peep.


    Damn it. Why today, of all days? I try five more times and the car refuses to start each time. This happened once, a few months ago, when the battery ran out of charge. I¡¯d been told by the insurancepany to change the battery back then. Something about charging problems and faulty electrical drains and the ominous-sounding verdict of it will likely die again.


    But it hadn¡¯t. And I¡¯d forgotten all about those several hundreds of dors I didn¡¯t have to spend on a new battery.


    Getting out of the car, I aim a solid kick to a tire. It¡¯s ineffectual, but it makes me feel better.


    ¡°Damn it!¡±


    Can I find someone with jumper cables? I hadn¡¯t been able tost time, and I¡¯d paid for that mistake. I call Trina. Predictably, she doesn¡¯t answer. She¡¯s the queen of having her phone on silent.


    Wilma doesn¡¯t pick up either, which means I¡¯m shit out of luck. Calling my little brother Wyatt is out of the question, because he doesn¡¯t have a car.


    I look over at the closed garage doors. Mr. and Mrs. Gardner¡¯s cars are in there, locked away while they¡¯re traveling this summer. I know where the keys are-that was one of the items in my house-sitting guide. Can I use them to jumpstart my own car?


    Battling with indecision, I get out and pop the hood to my car. The engine is a mess of cables and steel and things that I¡¯d likely break upon impact. I should have paid more attention thest time I saw someone do this.


    ¡°Is everything all right over there?¡±


    I jump at the voice and the hood ms shut with the sound of steel on steel, narrowly missing my fingers.N?velDrama.Org: owner of this content.


    ¡°Shoot. You okay?¡± Standing on the other side of the fence is Ethan. I glimpse the shiny ckcquer of a car behind him.


    He¡¯s in a suit.


    For a second, that simple fact makes it difficult to craft a reply. How could I, when he looks as if he¡¯s poured into the fabric? No tie. Undone top button, a slice of tanned skin in view. Thick hair that¡¯s just as messy as it was the day before. And eyes that look increasingly concerned as I y mute.


    Nodding, I force out a response. ¡°Yes. Well, no, not really. My car won¡¯t start.¡±


    He runs a hand along his jaw. ¡°Problem, that.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why?¡±


    ¡°I suspect it¡¯s the battery,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s done this before. I was warned it would happen again. I didn¡¯t listen.¡±


    ¡°Do you have jumper cables?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Right. Well, I¡¯ll be over in a second.¡± He disappears from view, speaking to someone on the other side in too low a voice for me to make out.


    This was not at all how I¡¯d nned out our next interaction! After the brownie-hello two days ago, my mind had raced ahead to a summer of polite exchanges and charming smiles. To waving at him from the side of the pool as he worked on the treehouse. To potentially-sometime around week seven-slip into conversation that I study system engineering. One of the few women at Washington Polytech doing that, in fact.


    But no. Now I look unprepared at best and downright negligent at worst.


    Ethan reappears at the bottom of my driveway, holding a set of cables, still d in his suit. ¡°I¡¯ll back up my own car,¡± he says. ¡°It should be a simple fix. Do you have somewhere you need to be today?¡±


    ¡°Yes, a meeting.¡± I smooth a hand over my tailored cks. ¡°Thank you so much for helping me. Are you sure you have the time, though? I don¡¯t want to keep you from-¡±


    He waves away my protest. ¡°Not a problem. Besides, your brownies were excellent, so I owe you one. Let me be your knight in shining armor.¡±


    I lift up the hood to my car and he fastens the strut. Broad, tan hands grip the ends of the jumper cables. A white shirt peeks out from the sleeve of his suit jacket.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I say, my hands flitting forward to grip his wrist before he can touch my engine. It¡¯s firm under my touch. ¡°You might get grease on your shining armor.¡±


    His lips twitch. ¡°You¡¯re right. A knight can¡¯t have that, can he?¡±


    ¡°It would look very unprofessional.¡±


    He shrugs off his suit jacket and I take it from him, folding it over my arm. It¡¯s warm from his body heat. And then the worst of all-he rolls up his shirtsleeves, unveiling inch after inch of muscled forearms.


    ¡°Better?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    Still smiling, he bends to attach the cables to my engine. I watch this time, remembering where he¡¯s attaching them. It¡¯s bound to happen again. ¡°You really know how to do this,¡± Iment.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had a fair bit of practice,¡± he says. ¡°Spent a lot of time with my head under the hood as a teenager.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°I take it you haven¡¯t, though?¡± Shaking his head briefly, he rests his fingers on a box-like thing in the engine. ¡°You definitely need to change your battery.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know. I just never got around to it.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a mechanic in Greenwood, down by the strip mall. He always has time for locals.¡± Ethan bends over the engine again, a smile in his voice. ¡°Though I can¡¯t think of a mechanic who wouldn¡¯t make time for you.¡±


    I blink at the broadness of his back. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°They love pretty faces.¡±


    My mind goespletely nk at that.


    ¡°Daddy!¡± a young voice calls. ¡°Can we watch? Please?¡±


    A little girl stands at the base of my driveway, hands sped behind her back, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her hair is a mess of curls, the exact same honey shade as Ethan¡¯s, minus the faint salt and pepper.


    Ethan straightens. ¡°Watch me jump-start a car?¡±


    He turns to me. ¡°All the cartoons in the world, and this is more interesting,¡± hements, rubbing a hand over his neck.


    ¡°I get it,¡± I say, because I do. He¡¯s far more interesting than any TV show.


    ¡°Haven,¡± he says louder, ¡°this is Be. Be is our new neighbor for the summer. She¡¯s the one who baked the brownies.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 7

    Haven dances forward, stopping beside her father. She can¡¯t be older than six. ¡°Hello,¡± she greets me.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    She smiles, revealing a gap where her front teeth should be. ¡°Nice to meet you too. Your car¡¯s broken?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The battery is dead and your dad is helping me fix it.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s good at fixing things,¡± shements, rising up on her tiptoes to watch. ¡°But he¡¯s terrible at braiding hair.¡±


    Ethan snorts. Valiantly, I stop myself fromughing by biting down on my tongue. ¡°Is he?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Maria does our hair instead. You have really pretty hair,¡± she tells me. Her voice is clear as a bell, no shyness at all.


    ¡°Thank you. So do you. I love the curls.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she says. ¡°Could you teach me how to bake brownies some day? Yours were reeeally good.¡±


    Ethan puts a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Be might be busy,¡± he says. ¡°But maybe she can give you her recipe, if you ask nicely.¡±


    I smile at her. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to give you the recipe. And if you need help while you¡¯re baking, you¡¯re free to let me know. I¡¯m here most days.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t work?¡±


    ¡°Haven,¡± Ethan says.


    I chuckle. ¡°I do, but mostly from home. I¡¯m a graduate student.¡±


    ¡°Wait for meeee!¡± A second childes chasing up my driveway on round little legs, her pigtails bouncing. ¡°I want to see!¡±


    She barrels into Ethan¡¯s leg and he gives me a nce that¡¯s half-apologetic, half-embarrassed. ¡°Sorry,¡± he says. ¡°Seems this knightes with quite the entourage.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± I say, smiling at the new little girl. She peers up at me. ¡°And who is this?¡±


    ¡°This is Evie, my youngest,¡± Ethan says, putting a hand on her shoulder. ¡°And how did you escape, huh?¡±


    Mariaes around the corner in the next second. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, she fooled me¡­¡± and then she scoops down and picks up the small girl. ¡°We can watch from the other side of the fence,¡± she says. ¡°Your father has to back up the car.¡±


    Ethan nods. ¡°That¡¯s right. This is not a ce for kids. Haven, I want you on the other side of the fence as well.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°Not a discussion.¡± Steering her toward their house, Ethan gives me a crooked smile. ¡°I¡¯ll park one of my cars here. We¡¯ll have yours started in no time.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. You¡¯ll have an endless supply of brownies after this in thanks.¡±


    His smile widens at that. ¡°I might hold you to that.¡±


    Mine fades as he parks his giant Jeep beside my little beaten-up Honda Civic. The difference between us couldn¡¯t be any starker. But he says nothing about it as he pops open his hood. It opens automatically, revealing an engine that¡¯s impressive even to a novice like me.


    ¡°Here we go¡­¡± he says, connecting wires, humming with life andpetence. I¡¯m still holding on to his suit jacket and the fabric is soft under my hands. Idly, I wonder what it would smell like. Does he wear cologne?


    ¡°What do you study?¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°You said you¡¯re a graduate student,¡± he says. ¡°What do you study?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doctoring in systems engineering.¡±


    His gaze snaps up to mine. ¡°You¡¯re a systems engineer?¡±


    ¡°Soon-to-be, yeah.¡±


    ¡°What topic are you researching?¡±


    ¡°How model-based project strategies provide greater efficiency.¡±


    He nods to himself. ¡°Very interesting,¡± he says, and there¡¯s no artifice in his voice.


    A small glow of pride starts in my chest. Ethan Carter, a pioneer in the tech industry for his work on nano-research and itsmercial implications. For a second, I feel like the undergrad student who had sat second row during his guest lecture.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to talk about that,¡± he murmurs, walking around to the driver¡¯s seat of his car. ¡°Very interesting indeed. And you¡¯ll be here all summer?¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He slides into the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Get in your car, but don¡¯t start it until I tell you to, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    The deep rumble of his engine roaring to life is the only sound, followed quickly by the cheers of two small girls across the fence. I smile as I sit in my driver¡¯s seat, the door open. There¡¯s arge coffee stain on the passenger seat. I¡¯d never really noticed that before.


    ¡°Now!¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± I tell my car quietly, hand on the car key. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll buy you a new battery if you just start now. We have an audience.¡±


    And then I turn the key.


    My engine growls to life in a far less ttering way than Ethan¡¯s state-of-the-art Jeep, but it¡¯s alive. ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell it, putting the gear in neutral and getting out, the car still on.


    ¡°That¡¯s it. All she needed was a jump.¡± Ethan reaches out a hand to me, expectant. I stare at it for a second before I realize I¡¯m still holding his jacket.


    ¡°Right. Here. Thank you so much for this. I don¡¯t know how to repay you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do,¡± he says, shrugging into his fitted suit jacket. ¡°You already promised. Brownies in perpetuity.¡±


    ¡°Of course. How could I have forgotten?¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I¡¯ll keep reminding you. I have two kids to feed.¡± And then he winks, bending over to remove the jumper cables from my still-roaring engine without pausing. ¡°Now I want you to go get this car serviced, all right? First thing tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Sure, yes. And I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve made youte to some meeting.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 8

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s fine,¡± he says. ¡°They¡¯ll wait.¡±


    I swallow at the casual mention of such power. ¡°Oh. Good.¡±


    He pauses with a hand on the front door to his car. ¡°I work in tech, actually. We have a lot of system engineers at mypany. I¡¯m sure there are many who¡¯d find your study interesting.¡±


    My head bobs like a doll¡¯s. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°You know?¡± A raise of both eyebrows.


    ¡°No, I mean, I know that you work in tech. I think you gave a guest lecture a couple of years back at Washington Polytech?¡±


    A smile breaks across his face. ¡°You were there? Among the students?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was a great lecture,¡± I say.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie. I made it all up on the fly.¡±


    ¡°All right, so it wasn¡¯t very structured,¡± I admit, smiling back at him. ¡°But it was even more interesting because of it.¡±


    ¡°Now that, I believe.¡±


    ¡°Your use of props was ingenious. The water bottle stunt? Ten out of ten.¡±


    His grin widens. ¡°You really were there.¡±


    ¡°Daddy!¡± An impatient voice on the other side of the fence. ¡°Did you fix it?¡±


    And then an older child¡¯s voice. ¡°Of course he did, silly. Don¡¯t you hear the engine?¡±


    An angry wail back, and then, ¡°Stop it!¡±


    ¡°No, you stop it.¡±


    Ethan gives me a look that is both tired and apologetic. ¡°Don¡¯t have kids,¡± he tells me, but there¡¯s fondness in his voice. ¡°It¡¯s a trap.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll consider myself warned.¡± My insides feel light-like I might float away at any moment, despite the engine running in my car or the meeting I¡¯ll surely bete to.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to youter,¡± he says, shutting the front door and reversing with one hand on the steering wheel, a move men have somehow always perfected. He looks like sin doing it. On the other side of the fence, I hear Maria calm down the girls¡¯ fighting.


    I slide into the front seat of my little Honda and reverse after his monster of a vehicle, shutting the gate with the automatic controller. The girls wave at me when I drive past. I wave back, watching how Ethan bends to hoist up the youngest.


    Not for me, I tell myself. Those kids have a mother, someone who receives all of Ethan¡¯s smiles. Besides, I have more schoolwork than I can handle. We¡¯re from stratospherically different circumstances. Forget out of my league-Ethan Carter and I don¡¯t even y the same sport.


    And yet, I spend the entire drive to Washington Polytech sorting through my memories. Had I seen him wear a wedding ring?


    The asphalt is smooth under my feet. The sun¡¯s first rays haven¡¯t quite driven out the night yet, and the air is cool. A beautiful morning for a run.


    I loop around Redfern Drive and head down to the park by Lake Washington. There¡¯s almost no one out-the best time of the day, this. No work calls. No duties. No one topete with except the smartwatch on my wrist and yesterday¡¯s record.


    No music in my ears, either, just blessed silence.


    I nce down at the watch. Do I have time to run alongside theke until Greenwood Hills ends? No. Haven and Evie will be up soon, and we always eat breakfast together. It¡¯ll be a shorter run today. I wouldn¡¯t trade mornings with my daughters for anything.


    A womanes jogging out of the adjacent street and onto the road in front of me. Few are the times I¡¯ve seen other runners at this hour.


    And there¡¯s something familiar about her form, the long hair pulled back into a ponytail, the fair legs under her runner¡¯s shorts¡­


    I speed up. With each passing yard, it¡¯s getting clearer who it is.This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    ¡°Be?¡±


    She nces to the left and then jumps, reaching up to tug at one of the Bluetooth earphones. ¡°Christ,¡± she says. ¡°Ethan, hi.¡±


    ¡°I keep scaring you. I¡¯ll have to work on that.¡±


    She shakes her head, her skin flushed from exertion. ¡°Not at all.¡±


    ¡°Do you run a lot?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but today¡¯s the first time in this neighborhood,¡± she says, nodding for us to continue. We run side-by-side at a leisurely pace. Her skin glistens in the morning sunlight.


    ¡°It¡¯s a great ce for runs. If you head east instead, from our houses, you get to a trailhead with quite a climb. Magnificent view over theke.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try that some time.¡± She pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear, running at my side. ¡°My car is running great, by the way. Thanks to you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still waiting for my daily brownie delivery.¡±


    Sheughs, shooting me a sideway nce. ¡°I couldn¡¯t possibly do that to you. Think of all the calories. The sugar. The gluten. The chocte.¡±


    ¡°Delicious,¡± I say. ¡°Have you changed your battery yet?¡±


    She shakes her head so the ponytail flies. I wonder what it would feel like wrapped around my hand. ¡°Not yet. But I have a time with the mechanic for next Friday.¡±


    ¡°Good. Not that I mind, you know, but I might not always be around with my trusty cables.¡±


    ¡°Very true.¡± She smiles again and looks over at me, and there¡¯s no way to stop myself from flirting when she looks like this. I have no right to make a move and no idea if she¡¯d even be interested, but those are rational considerations, and I¡¯m not in the mood for rationality.


    ¡°So, tell me something,¡± I say. ¡°Was it very obvious that I was unprepared?¡±


    ¡°For your lecture?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Be honest.¡±


    Sheughs, our pace slowing down somewhat. ¡°Yes, it was obvious, but I don¡¯t think anyone minded. It was very charming.¡±


    ¡°Charming? I was aiming for informative, but whatever works, I guess.¡±


    Her cheeks flush further. She¡¯s gorgeous, with her skin covered in a faint sheen and her eyes dancing. ¡°You were informative,¡± she says.

 Billion Dollar Catch 9

    I put a hand over my heart. ¡°Thank God. I¡¯d hate to be told¡­ what, four years after the fact that I embarrassed myselfpletely.¡±


    ¡°Your dignity is intact.¡±


    ¡°In that way at least,¡± I say with a grin, and she smiles back. ¡°So systems engineering, huh?¡±


    She nods. ¡°It¡¯s interesting.¡±


    ¡°And very male-dominated,¡± I say. It¡¯s impressive, what she¡¯s studying. Makes her even more intriguing. The watch on my arm gives me an annoying buzz to let me know the pace is too slow. I won¡¯t reach my target. I ignore it.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Be says. ¡°I¡¯m the only female PhD student in the department.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised.¡±


    She gives me a crooked smile. ¡°I¡¯m brought out for every photoshoot the department has. It makes them look better.¡±


    I roll my eyes, annoyed on her behalf. ¡°Of course it does. Want to head up here?¡±


    She looks at where I¡¯m pointing-Brownell Drive, which will eventually loop back to our street. ¡°Lead the way,¡± she says. ¡°You know this area better than me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re giving me too much credit. If I wasn¡¯t a runner I¡¯d be lost.¡±


    ¡°Yes, people don¡¯t really socialize here, do they? I haven¡¯t seen a single one of my neighbors. Apart from you,¡± she says.


    ¡°Much obliged,¡± I say and pretend to tip my hat at her. A silly gesture-one my eldest daughter enjoys-but Be smiles at it. ¡°People enjoy their privacy here.¡±


    ¡°And to think I just barged into your house with brownies.¡±


    ¡°Well, I think I vited your privacy first,¡± I say, and because I¡¯m awful and I can¡¯t resist, I look straight at her as I say it. She smiles at my teasing and looks away, biting into her lower lip.


    ¡°Lesson learned,¡± she says. ¡°And the worst part is, I can¡¯t pay you back in kind, either.¡±


    I blink. Twice. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think you can. There¡¯s no tree on your side of the hedge.¡±


    ¡°Shoot.¡±


    Does she mean-would she want to? Are we really joking about her seeing me undressed?


    ¡°And even if you had, I don¡¯t have a pool installed,¡± I say. ¡°So no such luck.¡±


    She snorts. ¡°You¡¯ve covered all your bases.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what I do best.¡±


    We turn onto our street. The sun ispletely up now, chasing away the dew still clinging to the greenery. ¡°Do you often run this early?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°I was woken up today by a very angry, very loud cat.¡±


    ¡°Ouch.¡±


    ¡°Yes. He doesn¡¯t like me yet, unfortunately. I¡¯ll have to get him some toys or treats.¡± A thought hits her. ¡°Do cats even like treats?¡±


    Iugh at that. ¡°Ask your aunt and uncle. They ought to know.¡±


    She looks away. ¡°They probably do, yeah.¡±


    We¡¯re almost at our driveways before I find the courage to speak the words. They¡¯re partly for Haven, yes, but they¡¯re mostly for me. An excuse to spend time with her, although I have nothing to offer.


    ¡°What are your ns this Saturday?¡±


    Her eyes shoot to mine. ¡°I don¡¯t have any.¡±


    ¡°How do you feel about attending a six-year-old¡¯s birthday party?¡±


    Her eyes light up, and I want to kiss her for that reaction alone. ¡°It¡¯s Haven¡¯s birthday?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯re throwing a party in the backyard. Bouncy castle, pi?ata, the whole thing.¡± I shake my head at the thought of the extensive organization that¡¯s gone into it. Thank God I can pay people to handle those things for me. ¡°Haven wanted to ask you toe.¡±


    Be smiles, like she¡¯s genuinely touched by the invitation. ¡°That¡¯s sweet.¡±


    ¡°She told me yesterday that she didn¡¯t want you to see the balloons and think you weren¡¯t invited.¡±


    Beughs at that, and the sound is more gratifying than I¡¯d expected. It makes me want to earn it again. ¡°That¡¯s so thoughtful of her. Of course I¡¯ll swing by.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Have a piece of cake, get a balloon animal. It¡¯ll be fantastic,¡± I say. ¡°A real raver. All of Seattle¡¯s preschool elite will be there.¡±


    She nods, ying along. ¡°I assume it¡¯s ck tie?¡±


    ¡°It is, yes, thank you for asking. There¡¯ll be valet parking too, so don¡¯t worry about finding a spot to park.¡±


    She shakes her head, grinning wide now. ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡±


    ¡°Looking forward to it,¡± I say, like an idiot, stopping by my gate. ¡°See you then.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what about presents? What does she want for her birthday?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Good God, no present. She has more toys than any kid could ever need. No, don¡¯t get her anything.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t show up empty-handed.¡±


    ¡°Make brownies, then. You owe me some anyway.¡±


    Her smile is crooked. ¡°All right. Until then.¡±


    ¡°Until then,¡± I echo, losing sight of her as she walks up her own driveway.


    Andter, when I look at my smartwatch and the statistics from my run, it doesn¡¯t surprise me at all that while I didn¡¯t reach my target speed, my heart rate had remained elevated the entire time.


    On Saturday, themotion from Ethan¡¯s house starts early. So early, in fact, that the sound of men shouting orders at each other drags me out of sleep and not my trusty rm.Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.

 Billion Dollar Catch 10

    The guest room window overlooks the hedge. I glimpse something very purple and veryrge on Ethan¡¯swn-is that a bouncy castle?-and smile. A kid¡¯s birthday party. I haven¡¯t been to one in¡­ over a decade, probably. Not since I was a kid myself.


    Toast winds his way through my legs when I enter the kitchen.


    ¡°I have arrived,¡± I tell him grandly. ¡°Food is imminent.¡±


    He looks up at me as I fetch his wet food. The second it hits his bowl, he¡¯s on it, devouring every morsel.


    ¡°Do you even taste it on the way down?¡±


    There¡¯s no response, just the sound of his furious eating.


    ¡°We won¡¯t make a gourmand cat out of you,¡± I tell him, mock-sadness in my voice. ¡°That career path is ruled out for you.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t answer. Not very talkative, either. Sighing at my own silliness, I assemble my ingredients and mixing bowl on the giant kitchen ind. Ethan had requested brownies, but I¡¯m keen to make a different recipe¡­ chocte chip cookies. All kids like that, right?


    It¡¯s one of many questions that whirl through my mind as I bake. The pressing list of things to do is never far away. A ce to stay, financial aid applications, writing my thesis¡­


    ¡°Maybe you can help me, Toast,¡± I say. ¡°How many words do you type per minute with those paws?¡±


    He looks at me over the empty rim of his bowl with wide, golden eyes. You¡¯re on your own, they say.


    ¡°Yeah. I figured.¡±


    A few hourster, in a dress and a pair of wedge heels, I head out to the front door. Music drifts over Ethan¡¯s side of the hedge, punctuated by children¡¯s excited shrieks.


    The driveway is decked out with balloons, tied to every possible anchor. Pinks and blues and yellows. The front door is open and guests are milling beyond, adults and children alike.


    I hold on to my basket of cookies like it¡¯s a lifeline and step inside. I¡¯m nearly bowled over when two kids race past me, one chasing the other. A woman in heels runs after them. ¡°Not upstairs!¡± she calls.


    I weave through a few men in suits to get to the giant kitchen ind I¡¯ve spotted in the distance. Who wears a suit to a kid¡¯s birthday party?


    The ind is overflowing with presents and food. In the center is a giant chocte cake,plete with two beloved sister-princesses on top. I put my basket of cookies down in between a te of Rice Krispies Treats and watermelon slices.


    Smiling at a child standing on the other side, I walk through the openndscaped living room to the patio. Ah. So the purple thing I¡¯d seen that morning had been a bouncy castle. And a popr one, judging by the number of kids currently on it.


    I don¡¯t see Haven, Ethan or Evie anywhere, nor Maria. But I do see a host of parents and kids and a few servers, too, walking around with trays of lemonade.


    To my right I overhear two men debating stock options, and to my left a few women discuss an ongoing renovation project. They promised me it would be done in five months!


    I feel spectacrly out of ce, and except for the kids themselves, like the youngest person there.


    I spot Ethan at the far end of thewn. He¡¯s hoisting Haven up in the air as she screams withughter. He throws her into the bouncy castle so she-and the kids around her-all fly up from the impact. She bounces back, arms raised, and he does it again. And again. The sight makes me smile.


    After ap around the party-I catch snippets of conversations about dance recitals and summer vacations-I sneak back out and retreat up my own driveway. Mingling has never been my strong suit, and not at a party like that. Ethan had only been half-joking when he said Seattle¡¯s preschool elite would be there.


    It¡¯ste that evening when my doorbell rings. I¡¯ve long since swapped out my dress for a pair of sweats, my makeup off, an old movie ying on the massive TV in the living room.


    After a moment of deliberation, I press down the answer button on the inte system. The camera flicks to life. ¡°Hello?¡±


    It¡¯s Ethan, a bottle of wine in one hand, the basket I¡¯d delivered cookies in sped in the other. ¡°I¡¯m here to return your basket,¡± he says, and the deep timbre of his voice is impressive even through the static. ¡°Open up, Be.¡±


    And God help me, but I do. The gate swings open and I rush to the mirror, running a hand through my hair. My sweatpants aren¡¯t that bad. But the T-shirt? It has the old Washington Polytech logo on it and it¡¯s two sizes too big.


    ¡°Damn it, damn it¡­¡± Do I have time to run upstairs and pull on a camisole? A sweater? Anything that doesn¡¯t have a hole in it?


    A knock on the front door.


    My time has run out.


    ¡°Toast! Not now!¡± The damn cat is pressing close to the front door, looking up at my hand on the doorknob. The intent in his eyes is clear. Escape!


    I scoop down and lift him up in my arms. I¡¯d discovered just yesterday that he very much dislikes being carried. Tonight¡¯s no different. He lets out a grumpy meow and squirms.This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    I pull open the door. ¡°Ethan, hi.¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡± Ethan¡¯s still in his chinos and shirt, now unbuttoned at the top. ¡°Is that the famous cat?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Come in, please, before he gets out. He¡¯s an escape artist, this one.¡±


    Ethan pushes the door shut with his foot and Toast leaps onto the floor. After a brief moment of hesitation, he winds his way around Ethan¡¯s legs.


    ¡°And disloyal, apparently,¡± I say. ¡°He never does that to me.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s warmughter fills the hallway, and it¡¯s a prettyrge hallway, so that¡¯s saying a lot. He bends down to scratch the cat. ¡°He¡¯s just friendly,¡± he says. ¡°Which is more than I can say for you.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    His gaze turns teasing. ¡°You thought you¡¯d just leave your cookies and sneak out of there without saying hello?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry about that. You looked busy, and Haven looked like she was having an absolute st.¡±


    ¡°She most certainly was. She¡¯s out like a light now.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good. Come on, let¡¯s head inside¡­¡± I lead him into the kitchen, epting the basket he hands out to me. ¡°How did you know they were my cookies?¡±


    Ethan raises an eyebrow. ¡°I would recognize your baking anywhere.¡±


    I swear, my heart does a double-take at that.


    ¡°The basket isbeled,¡± he says. ¡°Property of the Gardners, written in the bottom. Your aunt and uncle are proper folk, it seems.¡±


    I put it down on the counter. ¡°Did you like them?¡±


    ¡°I wish I could say. Unfortunately, they were very popr. I saw plenty of kids who looked like they enjoyed them, though.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, there were a lot of guests there.¡±


    ¡°Too many.¡± He tugs at the cor of his shirt again, putting down the bottle of red wine in front of him. ¡°I¡¯ve spoken about nothing but school districts and vination schedules all day. Would you like a ss of wine and a discussion about something that¡¯s not even remotely kid-rted?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 11

    There¡¯s no way I can resist that, regardless of my sweats, myck of makeup, or the cheesy romanticedy still ying in the background.


    ¡°I can do you one better,¡± I say, reaching for the cookie tin on the middle of the kitchen counter. Removing the lid, I push it toward him. ¡°I saved a few. One for you, if you¡¯d like.¡±


    Ethan stares at them for a long moment. ¡°When did you say your aunt and uncle areing back?¡±


    ¡°End of August.¡±


    ¡°Is there some way to extend their trip?¡± His eyes dance as he grabs one of the cookies. ¡°I could get used to this level of neighborly camaraderie.¡±


    Iugh. It¡¯s breathless, both from thepliment and the white lie that has somehow be bigger and bigger. It had seemed so innocent just a few days ago.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± I promise, grabbing two winesses from the cupboard. ¡°Why don¡¯t you pour and I¡¯ll just turn off the TV¡­¡±


    He does just that, his voice reaching me in the living room. ¡°I can¡¯t remember thest time I watched a non-animated film.¡±


    ¡°Hey now,¡± I tell him. ¡°That¡¯s kid-rted talk. I thought you issued a moratorium.¡±


    ¡°And I broke it myself,¡± he says. ¡°How pathetic.¡±


    I slide onto the barstool opposite him. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re being a tad too harsh on yourself.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± he says, handing me a ss of wine. ¡°I very much appreciate the outfit, by the way.¡±


    I nce down at my Washington Polytech T-shirt. ¡°I¡¯m d you see it that way,¡± I say. ¡°I wasn¡¯t really expecting visitors.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry about justing over and demandingpany. You can kick me out at any time.¡±


    ¡°Good to know,¡± I say, making my voice teasing. It¡¯s been a while since I flirted like this-and it¡¯s never been with a man quite like him. There¡¯s virtually nothing about Ethan Carter that¡¯s not intimidating to me, from his charismatic way with people to the tailored fit of his shirt. He has a solid grip on life, it seems. It¡¯s not happening to him-he¡¯s happening to it.


    I wish I could feel like that.


    He takes a deep sip of his wine. ¡°It iste,¡± he admits. ¡°It was presumptuous of me to barge in like this.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t barge,¡± I say. ¡°You knocked.¡±


    He gives a small smile. ¡°Factual. You really are an engineering student, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Guilty as charged.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I spoke to a student,¡± he says.


    I take a sip of my wine. ¡°You were a PhD student yourself, not too long ago.¡±


    He snorts, looking away from me. His hair looks even more mussed than usual-like he¡¯s been running his hand through it repeatedly in thest few hours. There¡¯s a furrow between his brows. ¡°Well, it¡¯s been a solid decade since I finished that.¡±


    ¡°A very productive decade.¡±


    He sighs, looking down at his wine. ¡°Far too productive,¡± he says. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve lived three lifetimes in ten years.¡±


    I put my head in my hands, leaning forward on the counter. ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. All the shit that¡¯s happened, thepany, the kids¡­¡± He shakes his head and gives me a crooked smile. It feels more real than any he¡¯s given me before, somehow. Wry and authentic. ¡°Listen to me. Self-pity is the lowest of emotions.¡±


    I smile. ¡°You¡¯re not being self-pitying.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not?¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    ¡°No. You just sound tired.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it. Tired of talking to all those parents today,¡± he says, raising his ss usingly at me. ¡°You were supposed to be there, you know. I was banking on having at least some non-kid rted conversation.¡±


    Laughing, I nod at the cookie in front of him. ¡°You¡¯ll just have to ept that as an apology.¡±


    He takes a bite, drawing out the wait, before he gives a solemn nod. ¡°Apology epted.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I sink back down onto my stool and take another sip of the red wine. It tastes good-rich and heavy. No doubt expensive.


    ¡°So,¡± he says, the green of his eyes inviting. ¡°Tell me about your studies.¡±


    So I do. Iunch into the details of my thesis with one of the few people who¡¯d actually understand, thrilled when he asks relevant questions. Ethan Carter, listening to me. Ethan Carter, giving advice. It¡¯s a pinch-me moment.


    We¡¯re both deep into our second ss of wine when he shakes his head with a smile. ¡°So the Gardners were hiding a talented systems engineer from me all this time. Who knew?¡±


    The words warm me. ¡°Who knew you were their neighbor?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± he says, looking down at his hands resting on the counter. There¡¯s no wedding ring on the left one. ¡°I haven¡¯t been much of a neighbor at all in thest few years. There hasn¡¯t been time.¡±


    ¡°The three-lives-in-a-decade thing?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    Without the liquid courage, I¡¯d never have been bold enough to ask what I do next. ¡°I can¡¯t help but notice¡­ you¡¯re raising the girls on your own?¡±


    He nods, eyes still on his wine. ¡°Yes. With Maria¡¯s invaluable help, of course, as well as my mother¡¯s. But their mother isn¡¯t really in the picture.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say.


    But Ethan just snorts. ¡°I¡¯m certainly not. I¡¯m thrilled not to be married anymore.¡±


    ¡°That bad, huh?¡±


    ¡°That bad,¡± he agrees. ¡°But I got two brilliant kids out of the deal, so I can¡¯t seem to find it in myself to have any regrets.¡±


    I raise my ss, meeting his heavy gaze with my own. There¡¯s more he¡¯s not saying-and his eyes aren¡¯t entirely without bitterness. But I smile, wanting to raise his spirits. ¡°To no regrets,¡± I say.


    ¡°To no regrets,¡± he agrees, our sses touching with a soft clink. ¡°And wee to Greenwood.¡±


    The way he says it makes it easy to imagine him saying wee home in that same deep, confident timbre. Something in my stomach flutters.

 Billion Dollar Catch 12

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I take a sip of my wine and wish I was dressed in something different, that my hair wasn¡¯t in a braid, that I had put on mascara.


    ¡°Do your aunt and uncle often travel this long?¡± Ethan¡¯s gaze is on the kitchen beyond, taking in the pristine countertops. I¡¯m dedicated to keeping the house as clean as possible.


    The question bites. ¡°Fairly often, I think.¡±


    He looks down at his wine, the thickness of his hair in view. Would he be upset if I admitted it was a silly white lie, one I didn¡¯t think would hurt? Would weugh about it?


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m d they do,¡± he says. ¡°No disrespect to them, but I much prefer your baked goods and engineering expertise.¡±


    I smile into my winess, twirling it around as if it holds all the answers. Just tell him. ¡°Well, it¡¯s funny you should say that,¡± I say. ¡°Actually, you know them-¡±


    I¡¯m interrupted by the loud sound of an rm. Ethan curses, fishing up his phone, and gives me an apologetic look.


    ¡°Damn. Sorry, but I have to go. It¡¯s around the time Haven often wakes up.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem at all.¡±


    He stands, looking from his ss of red wine to me and back again. ¡°This was nice. Even if I did barge in.¡±


    I slide off the barstool. ¡°Barge in any day.¡±


    He smiles that wide, effortless, charming smile again, the one that seems to warm me from my head to my toes. ¡°You might regret you said that,¡± he warns.


    ¡°Maybe. But I doubt it.¡±


    His smile turns crooked. ¡°Interesting,¡± he remarks. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll see you around, Be.¡±


    ¡°Good night.¡±


    And then he¡¯s gone, the front door shut behind him, and I¡¯m left reeling in the hallway. Ethan Carter in my kitchen,ing over for casual conversation. Even if I never see him again after this very moment, he¡¯s made my summer.


    I shouldn¡¯t have lied to him. I resolve to tell him my true reason for staying here the very next time I see him, running through potential ways of phrasing it in my head. Besides, my racing heart is definitely overthinking all the possible implications of this. There is no way he¡¯s interested in me, as a man to a woman.


    I count out the reasons as I lie in bed, forcing a semnce of logic. One-he¡¯s twelve years older than me. He wouldn¡¯t want a student. Two-he has two kids under the age of ten. That¡¯s his priority, as it should be. Three-he¡¯s, well, Ethan Carter. He can have anyone. Why on earth would he want me?


    They¡¯re good, sound reasons. And yet, I fall asleep to the image of his wide smile and the strength of his hands as he uncorked the wine bottle.


    So yeah, I¡¯m pretty screwed.


    Theing days are an absolute mess.


    Work is on the verge of madness-my chief engineer needs to take a few personal days a week before weunch ourtest product-and I¡¯m left trying to fit eighteen hours of work into a fourteen-hour day. Gone are the early morning runs, as are any social events after Haven and Evie have gone to bed. I¡¯m at myputer for so long each night that I should just give up and propose to my MacBook. It¡¯s time we made it official, anyway. We¡¯ve been living in sin for long enough.


    It¡¯ste one such night when I see a man leaving Be¡¯s house. In the dim lighting from the streemp, his face is young and unlined, his hair dark.


    I can¡¯t see her, but he¡¯s holding a paper bag in hand. My mind immediately fills it to the brim with cookies or brownies or whatever else she might have given him. Her heart, perhaps.


    The disappointment I feel at the sight is unwarranted. She¡¯s been nice. Neighborly and nice, and nothing more than that. Of course she has a boyfriend. A smart, beautiful young woman like her? Of course she does.


    I shake my head at my own stupidity. Years without a rtionship and months without a woman¡¯s touch have addled my brain. I could only hope that she didn¡¯t think I was aplete creep,ing over unannounced with a bottle of wine like that after my kids were asleep.


    Remembering some of the things I¡¯d said¡­ embarrassment burns. I¡¯d mentioned my ex-wife. My kids. Asked how long she¡¯d be staying here this summer. Yes, she must have noted my interest.


    When I finally shut myptop, it¡¯s past midnight and my mind feels like it¡¯s turned to sludge. There are too few hours in the day, I have a million things to do, and yet my mine keeps reying the image of the young man leaving her house.


    It¡¯s not improving my mood.


    The door to my home office is pushed open. Haven is standing there in her polka dot pajamas, blinking at the sharp light. I twist my deskmp away.


    ¡°Daddy?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here.¡± I push my chair back and scoop down to pick her up. She fits easily against my side, her hands on my neck.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t in your bed.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Shutting the door to my study, I walk with her over to my bedroom. It¡¯s rare that shees over at night anymore. ¡°Did you have a bad dream?¡±


    She nods. ¡°Can¡¯t remember it now.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°That¡¯s good. We don¡¯t need to remember bad things.¡±


    Turning on the dimmed lights in my bedroom, I pull back the covers with one hand and put her down with the other. She stretches out like a cat before curling up on her side.


    Her hand won¡¯t let go of my shirt. ¡°I¡¯ll be back, baby girl,¡± I tell her. ¡°Just give me a minute.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯kay.¡±


    When I return, teeth brushed and in a clean T-shirt, she¡¯s so quiet and still that I¡¯m sure she¡¯s asleep. But she turns to face me across the wide expanse of my bed.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    Her voice is a whisper. ¡°When will Mom visit?¡±


    Ah. She knows I don¡¯t like this question, though I¡¯ve always tried to be nothing but civil when my ex-wife is discussed. I could bear it if Lyra¡¯s kiness only extended to me. But to our daughters? It makes my hands knuckle into fists.


    I scoot closer and run a hand over her soft hair. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I reply. I¡¯ve always tried to be honest with my kids. Don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the right strategy, but it¡¯s the best one I have. ¡°Shees and goes as she wants, a bit. I know you miss her.¡±


    Haven shakes her head at that. ¡°Don¡¯t miss her. Not at all.¡±


    The denial cuts. ¡°It¡¯s okay if you do and it¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t. You can feel whatever you like about Mom. About me too, for that matter.¡±


    She nods and nestles her head against my hand, her breath evening out. When she speaks again, it¡¯s so soft that I barely hear the words.


    ¡°You liked those brownies. The ones the neighbor made.¡±


    What on earth?


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur, ¡°I did. Why?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 13

    ¡°No reason.¡±


    There¡¯s no further exnation and within a minute, Haven¡¯s breathing calm, her form limp beside me. I stare up at the dark ceiling and try to trace the conversational paths that led her to that question, but I can¡¯t find any.


    Kids.


    Haven¡¯s master n is revealed the next day.


    Because when I open the front door to my house, home with time to spare before dinner, there aren¡¯t three girls in my house. There are four.


    Be is standing by my kitchen ind with one of my daughters on either side of her, Evie kneeling on a chair to be able to reach. Maria is sitting opposite them, smiling as she watches.


    ¡°And then we crack the eggs¡­ yes, just like that,¡± Be instructs Haven. ¡°Be careful not to get any shells in the mix.¡±


    ¡°I want to try! Me!¡± Evie holds on to the edge of the counter and bounces in a way that makes me very nervous she¡¯ll slip off.


    ¡°Of course you do. Here, why don¡¯t you try in this bowl¡­¡±


    She hands Evie three eggs and a much smaller bowl. My youngest immediately busies herself with smashing them against the rim, fierce concentration on her small, ruddy face.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I ask. ¡°Have you started a cooking channel?¡±


    Be jumps at my appearance and I curse myself for scaring her, again. One of my many talents, it seems.


    ¡°Daddy!¡± Haven runs around the kitchen ind, heedless of the flour on her hands as she hugs my legs. ¡°Surprise!¡±


    I put a hand on the back of her head. ¡°Surprise indeed. What¡¯s this?¡±


    Be¡¯s gaze is chagrined, looking from me to Haven. My eldest doesn¡¯t notice. ¡°You¡¯ve been so busy,¡± she says, ¡°working working working. So we¡¯re making brownies for you. So you feel better.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s really kind,¡± I say, wondering how much is for me and how much Haven just wanted to learn how to make them. It doesn¡¯t matter. The gesture is sweet.


    She grabs hold of my hand and tugs me toward the kitchen ind. I follow obediently, my eyes on Be as she stands rosy-eyed and purposeful, whisking away. How had she been talked into this?


    ¡°Bake with us,¡± Haven says.


    ¡°I should change.¡±


    Be looks at my clothes. ¡°It might be toote for that suit.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Looking down, I take in the flour stains and the trace of batter from Haven¡¯s hug. ¡°Rest in peace, old guy. We had a good run.¡±


    From the corner of my eye, I see Maria slip off the barstool and head out of the kitchen. Had that been a smile on her lips?


    I lift Evie up and she squeals with delight as I ce her on the counter. She¡¯s rarely allowed to sit up here. ¡°So,¡± I tell them. ¡°What are we making?¡±


    The next hour sees perhaps the most uncoordinated baking ever done by mankind. Turns out my kids aren¡¯t brilliant at following orders, and Be is timid about issuing them.


    ¡°Listen to Be,¡± I tell Haven once. ¡°You wanted to learn how to make brownies, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    She nods. ¡°Yes. Sorry, Be.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    My neighbor¡¯s lovely niece smiles, the same soft, kind smile she¡¯d given me the other night. ¡°Not a problem. Do you want to help me add the chocte bits?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± she says. ¡°Can I taste a few?¡±


    ¡°Me too!¡± This is Evie, of course.


    Beughs, and Iugh with her. ¡°It¡¯s hopeless,¡± I tell her. ¡°Ambitions run high, but the follow-through is weak with kids under eight.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m learning,¡± she says, her eyes lingering on mine for just a moment too long. It¡¯s such a stunningbination, brown hair and blue eyes. A killerbo. Even with the apron on, the form of her body is clear. Like clockwork, the memory of her topless and sunbathing resurfaces.


    And my mind is back on Impossible Avenue, bypassing Never-Gonna-Happen Street and veering dangerously close to Creep Gutter.


    I try to focus on the task at hand-you¡¯re baking with your daughters, man-but the awareness of Be as soft and warm and womanly stays with me.


    She¡¯s off-limits, I tell myself. Remember the man who left her ce? She¡¯s taken.


    The kids watch in fascinated silence as Be opens the oven and puts in the baking pan. I hold them back, a hand on each of their shoulders.


    ¡°Hot,¡± I tell them. ¡°No touching.¡±


    Haven sighs. She¡¯s been told that a thousand times by now. But Evie still loves doing what she¡¯s not supposed to do, and it doesn¡¯t help that she¡¯s mischievous to the nth degree.


    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± Be says. ¡°Now we wait for twenty-five minutes.¡±


    Evie groans, but not Haven. She ps her hand. ¡°And then we eat.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Well, after they¡¯ve cooled for a bit.¡±


    ¡°And then you¡¯ll be happy, Daddy.¡±


    I blink at that. I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d noticed how stressed I¡¯d been this past week¡­ or did she mean longer than that? ¡°Thank you,¡± I murmur, avoiding Be¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°Boring,¡± Evie announces, skipping away from watching the oven. ¡°I want to y.¡±


    Haven dances after her sister into the living room-which serves as a yroom, more often than not, given that I never have visitors. Usually.


    Be looks over at me and silence falls thick between us. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says. ¡°For being here when you got home. You didn¡¯t know¡­ I thought you did. That this was your idea.¡±


    I wave her excuse away. ¡°Coming home to three beautiful girls baking? I can think of worse things.¡±


    She looks down, a blush on her cheeks. ¡°All right. Good.¡±


    Damn it, there I go again, saying things that I shouldn¡¯t be. I¡¯dpletely lost my game and I¡¯m too eager, somehow both at the same time.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious, though,¡± I continue. ¡°How did they rope you in? Bribes? ckmail?¡±


    Be chuckles, reaching up to secure her ponytail. Long tendrils-are they called side bangs?-frame her face. ¡°Nothing so malicious. Maria and Haven came over and asked if I was free to help. They said it was okay with you¡­ I assumed you knew.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 14

    ¡°I get it,¡± I say, wondering why they¡¯d done that-and why Maria had agreed to it. No doubt it was Haven¡¯s idea. ¡°You did nothing wrong. Neither did they, for that matter. You¡¯re always wee.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Not that I¡¯m sure why you¡¯d want to. They can be a handful.¡±


    She smiles, and it¡¯s soft again. ¡°They¡¯re brilliant kids. Very smart, too.¡±


    Christ. It¡¯s not enough that I want her with an almost physical ache-I really need to getid, holy shit-but now she¡¯splimenting my children too. How had the Gardners kept her away all these years? How had I never met her before?


    I would have remembered.


    ¡°They are.¡±


    She bends to look at the brownies in the oven, revealing the soft nape of her neck. ¡°A while longer, I think. And then they¡¯ll make Daddy happy again?¡±


    I give an exaggerated groan at that and sheughs, just as I¡¯d hoped she would. ¡°The things kids say,¡± Iin. ¡°I have no idea where she got that from.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t?¡±


    Perhaps it¡¯s the spark in her eyes-teasing and kind at the same time. But I answer her, regardless. ¡°There¡¯s a lot at work right now. There¡¯s always a lot, but this week¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard about yourtestunch,¡± Be says.


    My eyebrows shoot high at that. ¡°You have?¡±


    ¡°I study engineering with ssmates who are just a tad obsessed with these sorts of things, so yes, I¡¯ve heard about it.¡±


    ¡°ssmates, huh?¡±


    She leans against the kitchen counter. ¡°Yeah. We have an online group. There¡¯s always a ton of discussion.¡±


    ssmates her own age, which trantes to guys her own age. I feel a million years old suddenly, with this giant house and kids and no time at all to give a girl like her what she deserves and expects. Dating and going out and having fun, flirty adventures together. Between my kids and my work, I¡¯m already splitting myself in twos. I don¡¯t have threes.


    But there I go again. She¡¯s taken.


    ¡°Sounds fun,¡± I say. ¡°nning on throwing massive student parties out here?¡±


    She chuckles. ¡°God, no.¡±


    ¡°Your aunt and uncle would likely have your head,¡± I say, thinking about the smallbel attached to the bottom of the basket she¡¯d brought cookies inst weekend. It seemed a tad, well, neurotic.


    ¡°Oh, they would.¡± She runs a hand over her neck. ¡°But about that, Ethan¡­ it¡¯s so stupid. But I need to say it. When we first met, I actually-¡±


    ¡°No need.¡± I don¡¯t think I could bear to hear the words, the kind phrasing. Because that¡¯s what¡¯ll hurt the most-the kindness in her voice as she gently turns me down. ¡°I know you have a boyfriend, and you don¡¯t have to worry about any designs or expectations from me. I just want to be friends.¡± I hold up my hands to drive the point home, hoping she won¡¯t borate.


    Be looks down. A fierce blush colors her cheeks, advancing down her neck. ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯vee off like I¡­ well. I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say.


    She nods. ¡°Okay. You haven¡¯t, you know, but that¡¯s good to know. And just for the record, I don¡¯t actually have a boyfriend.¡±


    Oh.


    Fuck.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I get for assuming, I guess. I saw a man leaving your housete the other night.¡±


    She looks up, embarrassment clear in her eyes, and I want to sink through the floor. I¡¯ve just done it again-put my foot in my mouth. I¡¯m not just off my game, I¡¯ve lost itpletely.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± I add. ¡°It¡¯s not my business. I shouldn¡¯t have assumed, or asked. You do you.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay,¡± she hurries, kind as always, trying to put me at ease when I¡¯m the one who¡¯s throwing around implications. ¡°It was my brother.¡±


    Ethan, you colossal idiot.


    ¡°Your brother?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He came over for dinner. It¡¯s not¡­¡± She shakes her head, her voice quiet now. ¡°I don¡¯t have a boyfriend.¡±


    Silence between us again. It¡¯s notfortable this time. My words, spoken harshly in defense earlier, seem to hang between us. No expectations or designs. Just friends.


    ¡°But that¡¯s all right,¡± she adds, like the silence is too much to bear. ¡°I¡¯d like to be friends, too.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°Awesome.¡±


    The padding of feet is the only warning before Haven throws herself at my legs. ¡°Are they done?¡± she asks Be. ¡°It¡¯s been forever.¡±


    Be¡¯s face is wiped clean of any tension, her eyes serene as she gazes down at my daughter. I watch through a daze as they inspect the brownies, as they take them out from the oven, even as I obligingly ooh and aah at the finished result. And when Be leaves soon thereafter, giving Haven a high five and promising to return some other day, there¡¯s only one thought left.


    I¡¯ve blown everything.


    So he wanted to be just friends.


    The memory alone is enough to make my cheeks scald. Had my awestruck interest been that obvious to him, that he felt he had to tell me that?


    I suppose he must be used to it, though. A man like Ethan Carter probably has women throwing themselves at him daily, if not for his money than for his status. Or for his looks-they¡¯re quite enough in their own right. He¡¯s a catch in every imaginable way.


    ¡°Be?¡± my brother asks. ¡°Are you even listening?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    A sigh. ¡°I can¡¯t wait until you¡¯re done with your thesis and actually get back down to earth,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re always off somewhere else at the moment.¡±


    I step onto the patio and into thete afternoon sun. This garden truly is something to behold-I¡¯d give up the house dly as long as I had ess to this kind of paradise daily. ¡°I¡¯m just a bit distracted.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I mean.¡± Wyatt sighs again. ¡°And you¡¯re sure I can¡¯te stay in that massive house of yours? I don¡¯t get why I can¡¯t. I¡¯d be in that pool daily.¡±


    It hurts to stay firm, but I do it. ¡°You know why I said no. No one else is staying over, either. Wilma and Trina aren¡¯t.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 15

    ¡°But I¡¯m your brother.¡±


    Yes, and with a habit of always bringing his friends around, of breaking vases, of leaving a trail of Cheetos dust in his wake¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to have stay-over guests,¡± I say firmly. ¡°It¡¯s explicitly stated in the agreement I signed.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯d never know.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think a ce like this has cameras and stuff?¡± I stop at the edge of the pool and dip my bare toes into the water. Cool and lovely.


    ¡°You¡¯re such a bore, Be,¡± Wyattins. ¡°If I had a mansion for the summer, I¡¯d invite you to stay for as long as you¡¯d like.¡±


    He¡¯s ying on my conscience now. My little brother is excellent at doing that. ¡°Stop it,¡± I tell him. ¡°I¡¯ve already told you no, and exined my reasons. It¡¯s not personal. I¡¯m like¡­ like a steward here. And I can¡¯t screw it up. Besides, you have a ce to stay.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Wyatt¡¯s sigh across the line is flippant now. ¡°I get it, I get it.¡±


    Sure he does. ¡°Good. But you know you¡¯re wee to visit on asion. Just you, though.¡±


    ¡°I know. Thanks.¡±


    Something moves in my peripheral vision. No, someone. Ethan is in the oak tree again. He¡¯s not alone this time, as a second man sits higher up in an adjacent tree.


    Ethan gives a wave.


    ¡°Be?¡± Wyatt asks.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m still here. Sorry, but I have to go.¡±


    ¡°Is your thesis calling?¡± Kyle teases. Now that he¡¯s asked his question, again, and I¡¯ve told him no, again, the tension is gone between us.


    When he visitedst week for dinner, he¡¯d walked around and marveled, going so far as to open closets in the master bedroom. That was when I¡¯d shoved him down the hallway and pointed at the stairs.


    ¡°Yes. Words don¡¯t write themselves, you know.¡±


    ¡°Talk to youter, Bells.¡±


    ¡°Love you.¡±


    ¡°Love you too.¡±


    Slipping the phone into the back pocket of my jean shorts, I head to where Ethan is perched on the bough. A trace of faint humiliation still burns, but I force it down. Surely we can discuss a few nice, neighborly things, like the weather. Just keep it friendly.


    I rock back on my heels. ¡°Are you making it a habit? Sitting up there?¡±


    ¡°Better cell phone reception,¡± he says. ¡°Who knew?¡±


    I bite my lip to keep from smiling. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to overhear your conversation.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay. What are you doing, though?¡±


    He nces over at the man in the other tree, currently measuring the width of the trunk at different intervals. ¡°I¡¯m a terrible father,¡± he says.


    ¡°I very much doubt that.¡±


    His smile bes crooked again. ¡°I¡¯m hiring apany to build the treehouse. Actual professionals. Go ahead, tell me I¡¯m a copout.¡±


    I pretend to consider, furrowing my brow. ¡°It is definitely a strike against you,¡± I deadpan. ¡°I might consider calling social services.¡±


    He nods gravely. ¡°You take your civic duty seriously. I can respect that.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°In truth, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s bad at all. Professionals know what they¡¯re doing, right?¡±


    ¡°And I don¡¯t,¡± he says, smile wide. ¡°Not to mention this is meant to be a surprise, and my hammering away out here an hour every evening won¡¯t exactly be¡­ inconspicuous.¡±


    ¡°Sure won¡¯t.¡± I nce from Ethan to the man in the neighboring tree, still hard at work examining branches and boughs. ¡°It¡¯ll be big?¡±


    Ethan shrugs. ¡°No idea. I told them to design whatever will fit and make it special.¡±


    ¡°I had a treehouse growing up.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was filled with cushions and in the summer my mother hung string lights inside.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Damn. I hadn¡¯t thought of that.¡±


    ¡°Of what would be inside it?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    And he looks so¡­ I can¡¯t resist. ¡°I can help with that. If you need help, I mean. Picking out pillows and a throw rug and maybe hanging lights¡­ if it¡¯s meant to be a surprise. For Haven and Evie?¡±


    Nice, Be. Very eloquent.


    But Ethan gives a grateful nod. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate that.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Just let me know when you want to look at it.¡±


    ¡°Is it terrible of me to suggest right now?¡± he asks. ¡°My mother has Haven and Evie today, and that doesn¡¯t happen all that often.¡±


    I smooth a hand over my shorts. ¡°Of course! It¡¯s a Saturday-I wasn¡¯t nning on working anyway.¡±


    ¡°And no ns with all those student friends of yours?¡± he teases. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard you throw a rager yet.¡±


    ¡°And you won¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°Should Ie over? I can bring myptop and we could, I don¡¯t know, order some stuff?¡±


    His shoulders rx a tad. ¡°Perfect. Yes, let¡¯s do that.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 16

    Fifteen minutester we¡¯re sitting on his giant patio, side by side on a sofa, looking at pictures of treehouses. Google has served us a smorgasbord from the quaint to the oundish.


    Ethanughs as I scroll over images that are clearly not for us. ¡°Bathtubs¡­ Wall-mounted TVs¡­ people really go all out,¡± he says. ¡°Wait. What about that?¡±


    The image is of a small treehouse with child-size wooden chairs. A throw rug on the floor. A hammock attached in the background. Lights running over the ceiling in a zigzag pattern.


    ¡°That¡¯s perfect,¡± I say.


    ¡°Did yours look like that?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, ¡°if you imagine a crooked floor and far less space. The do-it-yourself version of this.¡±


    He shifts closer, the heat of his thigh pressing against mine. ¡°That sounds idyllic.¡±


    ¡°It was, at times.¡±


    ¡°At times?¡±


    His voice is too soft and too close. It¡¯s hard to think. ¡°Yes. I¡­ my younger brother was often in trouble and my father wasn¡¯t always around. I spent most of my childhood with my head buried in my schoolbooks.¡±


    ¡°That sounds familiar,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°The schoolbook part?¡±


    ¡°The entire thing,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re the eldest?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You are as well?¡±


    ¡°Most definitely.¡± Ethan smiles, and it¡¯s the same crooked thing that he¡¯d given me in my kitchen, the one that¡¯s wry and amused and genuine at the same time. Maybe that¡¯s how he meets all of life¡¯s challenges, with a smile and boundlesspetence.


    I wet my lips. ¡°We should order the stuff online.¡±


    ¡°I can do that,¡± he says. ¡°Two chairs, small table, a bunch of pillows and lights.¡±


    ¡°You got it. Awesome.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for suggesting this. Without you they would have raced up thedder and found the ce empty.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I doubt that. You would have figured something out.¡± I twist away from the heat of his skin on mine, meeting his gaze. ¡°You¡¯re not actually a bad father.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t respond to that. He looks down instead, gaze on my bare shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the other day.¡±


    ¡°The other day?¡±


    ¡°For assuming you had a boyfriend. And then for assuming¡­ well.¡± Ethan¡¯s not smiling now, a furrow in his brow. ¡°I was out of line.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± I murmur. This close, his green eyes have hazel flecks in them.Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    He shakes his head. ¡°It was presumptuous, what I said.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡±


    He nces down, the thick honey-brown of his hairing into view. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen him struggle to find his wording. ¡°Even so, I would like to clear the air.¡±


    The doorbell rings out loudly behind us. Ethan curses and looks down at the thick watch on his wrist.


    ¡°Damn.¡±


    ¡°Everything okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Please give me a moment.¡±


    He strides back into the house. I gently shut myptop, sping it to my chest. There is real danger here. I¡¯d felt it from the beginning, but then it had been a foolish dream, a crush like the ones I¡¯d had on actors and singers as a teenager. Distant and harmless. Now I feel like I¡¯m standing on the edge of tumbling into something deeper and far more hopeless.


    When Ethan returns, I¡¯m already standing, prepared to leave.


    ¡°Be, I¡¯m sorry. I have a dinner tonight, and the chef just arrived to prepare.¡±


    ¡°A few friends areing over.¡± He gives me another one of those smiles-crooked, hesitant, genuine. ¡°You said you had nothing nned today. Why don¡¯t you stay?¡±


    I have no idea what to say to that. Can¡¯t even form the words.


    ¡°Feel free to leave whenever,¡± he adds. ¡°But there will be great food.¡±


    And greatpany, I think, my treacherous mouth almost uttering the words aloud. ¡°Thank you, that sounds great.¡±


    His smile widens. ¡°Perfect. They should be here in¡­ ah, about half an hour. Let me just finish up out here with the contractor and hop into the shower.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Yes, of course. I¡¯ll do the same-I¡¯ll be back.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡± He pauses on the steps off the patio, looking back at me. The sunlight gilds his hair. ¡°I¡¯m d you¡¯re staying.¡±


    The words make me feel like I¡¯m floating all the way back into myrger-than-life house and the three-person-sized shower. Wilma and Trina would have a fit if I told them about this.


    Perhaps that¡¯s why I haven¡¯t. Ethan feels like my secret, like a potential friend that¡¯s too good and too elusive to talk about. It¡¯s as if the second I speak about him, he¡¯ll disappear, the magic spell broken.


    Nerves make my throat dry and I clear it twice, standing outside his front door and waiting for him to open it. The dress I¡¯m wearing had felt appropriate-knee-length, ck, sleeveless-but I have no idea how he¡¯s dressed.


    On impulse, I¡¯d grabbed a bottle out of the Gardners¡¯ wine fridge and taken a picture of thebel toter rece it, praying it¡¯s not a thousand-dor bottle. I sp it in front of me like armor.


    He opens the door with a flourish, eyes sweeping over my form. ¡°Be,¡± he says. Thankfully, he¡¯s not in ck tie, but wearing a pair of dark trousers and a button-down.


    ¡°Ethan.¡± I hold up the wine bottle. ¡°I didn¡¯t have time to bake, so¡­¡±


    He smiles, epting the bottle. ¡°This will do. A good vintage, too. Do you know wine?¡±


    ¡°A little.¡± A very, very little. ¡°I know I like to drink it.¡±


    He snorts, leading me in through the kitchen. A focused young woman in white is preparing what looks likemb chops. He wasn¡¯t joking when he said a chef had arrived.

 Billion Dollar Catch 17

    ¡°The others are outside,¡± he tells me. ¡°Let me introduce you.¡±


    We step out onto the patio and the bubbling conversation between the guests stills. Four pairs of eyes turn to me.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I say, giving a little wave, my gaze moving across each of the guests in turn. My stomach sinks as I take in the familiar faces. He hasn¡¯t just invited a few friends-he¡¯s invited some of the city¡¯s most famous.


    There¡¯s Cole Porter, whose face is regrly in the news for some building project or another. His sister is here too. I¡¯d once seen her on a morning talk show discussing fall fashion trends. She¡¯s looking at me curiously now, impably dressed.


    By her side¡­ oh. The man is vaguely familiar in an almost threatening way. Dark hair and dark eyes narrow in on me.


    But Ethan just stops by the table like this group of people is nothing out of the ordinary for him, because of course it isn¡¯t. He fits right in.


    ¡°This is Be Simmons,¡± he says. ¡°She¡¯s my neighbor¡¯s niece, living next door over the summer.¡±


    I nod obediently as my stupid, stupid lie is repeated in front of the city¡¯s elite. ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I add another nail to the coffin.


    ¡°Be, meet Cole, Skye, Nick and ir.¡± He gestures in turn, as if I don¡¯t already know.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you,¡± the short brte says-Skye. She¡¯s the only one I¡¯ve never seen before. ¡°Come on over, have a seat.¡±


    I do, sinking down in the chair next to her. ¡°It¡¯s lovely to meet all of you.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re Ethan¡¯s new neighbor?¡± Cole says. He looks exactly like he does in the newspapers. Somehow that makes it easier to respond, as if I¡¯m talking to the image of him rather than the man himself.


    ¡°Yes, at least for the summer.¡±


    Ethan takes the chair opposite me, handing me a ss of wine. ¡°Be¡¯s a PhD student,¡± he adds. ¡°In systems engineering.¡±


    ir gives me a wide smile. With her golden hair and socialite status, I feel like I¡¯ve been hit by the sun. ¡°Engineering? That¡¯s very impressive,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I failed math in high school.¡±


    ¡°You did,¡± her brother supplies. ¡°I remember.¡±


    Nick drapes an arm behind her chair. ¡°You¡¯ve done fine without it,¡± he says. ¡°Ethan, thanks for finally inviting us ¡¯round.¡±


    ¡°I figured I had to pay back eventually,¡± Ethan says. ¡°Lord knows I¡¯ve eaten enough meals at yours.¡±


    ¡°We haven¡¯t been keeping score,¡± Skye says.


    ¡°Yes we have,¡± Cole interjects. ¡°This is nice, but you¡¯re still in the red.¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    Faced with their banter and obvious familiarity, some of my nerves lessen. The wine helps-as does Skye¡¯s soft questions at my side. Turns out she¡¯s an author, but she wasn¡¯t famous or influential at all before she married Cole. Her kind smile tells me she understands that they can all be a bit¡­ well, intimidating.


    ¡°Ethan¡¯s such a great guy,¡± she tells me in an aside during dessert. ¡°But I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already figured that out.¡±


    I nod, swallowing the delicious bite of tiramisu I¡¯d just taken. Across the table, Ethan¡¯s eyes nce toward us.


    ¡°I have,¡± I say carefully.


    ¡°So are his daughters. Evie is a few years older than our son, but I hope they¡¯ll be ymates one day.¡± Her smile warms. ¡°He¡¯s very smart, too.¡±


    ¡°Your son?¡±


    ¡°No, Ethan.¡± Skyeughs, ncing briefly at her husband, consumed in some discussion with the others. ¡°Although Isaac rolled over onto his tummy the other day, quite early too, at three-and-a-half months. Cole is convinced that means he¡¯s a genius in the making.¡±


    The obvious fondness in her voice makes me smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure he is, with parents like you.¡±


    ¡°Do you want kids?¡±


    I nod. ¡°One day, yes.¡±


    ¡°Ethan,¡± Skye says, involving him in our conversation. ¡°How about you? Do you want to have more kids?¡±


    Oh no. Has she assumed Ethan and I are¡­?


    Ethan takes a sip of his wine, the picture of ease. ¡°Maybe,¡± he says. ¡°Although at the moment it¡¯s a very distant priority, I have to say.¡±


    ¡°Understandable,¡± she says.


    ¡°I stepped on Legos just yesterday and vowed never again. But who knows?¡±


    ¡°Who knows indeed,¡± Cole adds, showing that he¡¯s been listening to the whole conversation. A look passes between him and Nick. ¡°Not to mention a man like you isn¡¯t made for single life.¡±


    I watch, wide-eyed, as Ethan lets out a groan. ¡°Not this again. Not in my own house, damn it.¡±


    Nick raises his hands. ¡°We won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Even if we¡¯re all thinking it,¡± ir adds.


    ¡°But we won¡¯t,¡± Nick says again, more firmly.


    A smile breaks across my face. So they¡¯ve been pestering him about his single-hood for a while? ¡°If it makes you feel any better,¡± I tell Ethan, ¡°I¡¯m told the same thing by most of my friends too.¡±


    ir¡¯s eyes go round. ¡°How perfect.¡±


    ¡°Are they equally annoying?¡± Ethan asks me, ignoring the others.


    I respond in kind, focusing only on him. ¡°More, I think. They don¡¯t know when to stop.¡±


    ¡°Oh, neither do we,¡± Cole says. A secondter, someone ps him on the shoulder-I hear the sound and the muffled ow.


    Ethan¡¯s eyes ze and his smile is private, one that ignores the people around us. It sends a shiver down my spine. ¡°Interesting,¡± he murmurs.


    I look down at my dessert and try to hide the blush on my cheeks. It¡¯s always been the thing to give me away, like a giant, heat-infused billboard. Look! Be cares!


    Cole and Skye leave shortly after that. ¡°We can¡¯t be away from Isaac for too long,¡± they say, almost in unison. ir and Nick decide it¡¯s time to head out too, ir mentioning something about an early morning as she kisses Ethan on the cheek.


    ¡°It was so nice to meet you,¡± ir tells me, giving me a hug. ¡°I¡¯m already looking forward to the next time.¡±


    And then they¡¯re all gone, leaving so quickly that I don¡¯t have the time to follow them out the front door. ¡°Wow,¡± I say, leaning against a wall in the hallway. ¡°Were they in a rush?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 18

    ¡°Of a sorts, I think,¡± Ethan says darkly. But then he sighs, and the furrow in his brow smooths out. ¡°Do you want a ss of wine to finish the night?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like that, yes. Mymute home is pretty short, you know.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know.¡±


    I sink down on the barstool in the kitchen and watch as he uncorks another bottle. ¡°She smells nice,¡± I say.


    His lips twitch. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°ir. I¡¯ve only ever seen her on TV before, or in magazines.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in a fair bit of those,¡± Ethan says, handing me a ss. He leans against the kitchen ind next to me-close, but not touching.


    Nerves dance in my stomach at the proximity. ¡°Not to mention¡­ well, the others. Impressive friends.¡±


    He raises an eyebrow. ¡°But annoying.¡±


    ¡°But annoying,¡± I agree, wondering if it¡¯s all the wine or his nearness that¡¯s making my tongue this loose. ¡°My friends are the same way. They see being single as wrong, somehow. An unnatural state that has to be fixed at all costs.¡±


    He gives a slow nod. ¡°But it¡¯s one you prefer?¡±


    I look away from his gaze. ¡°Prefer is a strong word. ept might be better. I¡¯m not opposed to it. You have to find the right person-and that¡¯s not easy.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says, ¡°it¡¯s not. I¡¯d rather be single the rest of my life than together with the wrong person.¡±


    ¡°Cheers to that,¡± I say, holding up my ss. He toasts it gently. ¡°Is that how you felt about your marriage?¡±


    The words are out before I can stop them. It¡¯s a presumptuous question, but it doesn¡¯t explode between us. It fizzles instead as Ethan regards me. The furrow between his brows is back, making him look older than thirty-six.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°It was wrong from start to finish.¡±


    There¡¯s more I want to ask. Why go through with it at all, then? But he shifts closer and the scent of him, of faint cologne and wine and man, hits me.


    ¡°Not that I have the time now,¡± he says, eyes on mine. ¡°Not to myself, and not to date. None of the others understand that.¡±


    ¡°I get it,¡± I say, wetting my lips. ¡°You have other priorities.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± he agrees.


    ¡°Makes sense.¡±


    ¡°It does.¡± His hand shifts closer on the kitchen ind, our fingers touching. His index finger against my pinky. All my senses narrow to that brief contact. I¡¯m back on the precipice, hovering right on the edge. Flee or fight. Stay or run.


    ¡°About the other day,¡± I say. ¡°You told me¡­ well, you were very clear.¡±


    He exhales. ¡°I was a fool. I didn¡¯t mean what I said.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t mean it?¡± My eyes are on our hands. I move my fingers over his-long, broad-knuckled, tan. A man¡¯s hands. His skin is warm to the touch.


    ¡°No,¡± he murmurs, ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡±


    My entire body tightens at what I see on his face. Gone is the carefree smile or the teasing glint in his eyes. No, his features are focused. I tilt my face upwards-it¡¯s a natural response to his gaze, my body reacting on instinct.


    And he takes what I offer.


    He bends his head and presses his lips against mine. Once, twice. Tentative kisses, but there¡¯s leashed strength behind it. Like he¡¯s not sure how I¡¯ll respond or if this is allowed, but he just has to try.


    It¡¯s allowed, I kiss back. It¡¯s encouraged. And when he cups the side of my face and tilts my head back further, I sigh against his lips. Maybe that was the sign he was looking for, the permission he needed. Because he deepens the kiss, my lips opening for him, a warm sweep of his tongue over my lower lip.


    Oh, dear Lord. My hands find a grip on his shirt, tugging, and he¡¯s pulling me up and out of the chair. His hand settles on my lower back, ttening, pushing me more firmly against the solid length of his body. I keep my grip on his shirt, though-for good measure.


    And all the while Ethan continues to kiss me deeply, leisurely, expertly. Nothing else matters now except that single fact. My head feels dizzy and I sp my arms around his neck to be sure I¡¯m not floating away.


    My hands find their own path up his neck, twisting in his hair and tugging. He groans at that. ¡°Too much?¡± I mumble, but he swallows the words before they¡¯re fully out.


    ¡°Not enough,¡± he murmurs back. There¡¯s such longing in his kiss-such need and want and strong, sure confidence. Trust me, it says. I know what to do. Let me do it.


    I kiss him back with the same surety. His hands on my body, one sliding up to grip my hair and the other down to the curve of my ass. Tearing my lips away from his, I kiss along the rough edge of his jaw. I¡¯ve wanted to do that since I¡¯d first seen him.


    His hands fist in the fabric of my dress. ¡°Be¡­¡±


    ¡°Mmm?¡±


    ¡°I have nothing to offer you.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    I force my gaze back to his, away from the tanned, warm skin of his neck. His eyes are on fire.


    But he must have seen the confusion in mine, because he steps back, breaking the warm, close contact between us. It feels like a loss. ¡°There were a lot of jokes about how I¡¯m single tonight,¡± he murmurs, ¡°but I am single for a reason. I meant what I said. I don¡¯t have time.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Heat and shame rises on my cheeks. Is he rebuffing me again? Twice in a week must be a record.


    ¡°I can¡¯t offer you what I should be able to. Time to do this properly.¡±


    ¡°Seemed like you were doing it properly to me.¡±


    ¡°Beautiful girl,¡± he says with a smile. ¡°Yes, that part I know how to do.¡±


    ¡°I get it, you know.¡± I put my hand on his on the kitchen counter and try to focus my scattered thoughts. ¡°You have your daughters. And your business. And your treehouse.¡±


    ¡°Yes, don¡¯t forget the treehouse.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking for anything,¡± I say, pulling my hand away from his. ¡°Thank you for a lovely evening, and for the nightcap.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for staying,¡± he says, just as quietly. ¡°And Be¡­¡±


    I pause in the hallway. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°I wish I had the time to date you properly.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 19

    ¡°Well, for what it¡¯s worth,¡± I murmur, ¡°so do I.¡±


    I¡¯d told Be I didn¡¯t have the time to date her. To give her what she deserved. Which made it very unfair that she didn¡¯t give me the same space. No, the taste of her is on my tongue from morning to evening, the feel of her body branded in my palms.


    If I¡¯d craved femalepany before, the brief brush of her breasts against my chest hadn¡¯t helped. What had been a steady me now feels like a raging wildfire of need.


    At work, my assistant asks me what¡¯s wrong-that¡¯s how irritable I¡¯ve be. And when Cole texts me to say thanks for dinner and ask how ¡°the cute neighbor girl is doing,¡± I contemte ghosting him.


    Had I blown it? Destroyed both the budding attraction and the cautious, kind friendship that had been growing between us? In thest few weeks, that had felt like something special.


    I shake my head at my own dithering. You can¡¯t offer her anything-just a few nights in your bed, and she¡¯s worth more than that. Stop considering it. But then my body would remember the feel of hers against it and the cycle began anew again.


    I don¡¯t see her for the rest of the week, forcing myself to focus on my work and my kids and nothing in between. I¡¯m not a little proud of that, either. Keeping myself from knocking on her door feels like a Herculean feat.


    ¡°Can Bee over?¡± Haven asked mid-week, which made my resolution falter. ¡°Maybe she can teach us how to make muffins!¡±


    ¡°Muwwfins!¡± Evie had eximed.


    Miraculously, I¡¯d stood firm. I told them Be was busy studying but they were free to ask Maria if she could teach them to make something. A minor victory for mankind, perhaps, but a giant one for me.


    It all ends Friday evening. Coming home from work, my mind fracturing at the seams from hard day of work I¡¯d had, I see her.


    Be is talking to Maria on my driveway, a glittery football in her hands. She¡¯s just as stunning as I remembered.


    The shirtdress she¡¯s wearing is tied around her waist, highlighting her form, thete evening sunlight gilding her long brown hair. A soft smile ys on her features.


    I park, getting out of the car with a hand on the roof. ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°Hi,¡± she says, looking from me to Maria. ¡°Well, that was it, really. Sorry about the dy in getting it back to you. I didn¡¯t notice it at first.¡±


    Maria shakes her head. ¡°They haven¡¯t missed it,¡± she says with a nod in my direction. ¡°They have more toys than they need.¡±


    ¡°Oh, far too many,¡± I agree.


    She smiles at us both and heads back into the house, football in hand, leaving me and Be alone. The silence is awkward. It¡¯s never been awkward before.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Be says. ¡°Haven or Evie kicked a football onto mywn and I was just returning it. I didn¡¯t mean to-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize,¡± I say. I think I could stand anything but that. ¡°They¡¯re always kicking things over-I¡¯m surprised your aunt and uncle haven¡¯t formallyined yet. Thank you.¡±


    She runs a hand over the back of her neck. ¡°It¡¯s not a problem.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t want things to be¡­¡±


    ¡°Weird? Odd?¡± Be smiles, the unusual mix of humor and kindness in her eyes that so disarms me. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be. I understood your point the other night.¡±


    At the moment, it¡¯s very difficult to remember exactly why I¡¯d been so insistent on making that very point. ¡°All right. Good,¡± I say. ¡°Just so you know that it¡¯s not¡­ Jesus, Be, it¡¯s not for ack of wanting.¡±


    That¡¯s it, the shade of her cheeks is my new favorite color. ¡°All right,¡± she echoes. ¡°Good. Me neither, for the record.¡±


    I force myself to clear my throat and not focus on that admission, not right now, or I¡¯d kiss her right here for all to see. ¡°It¡¯s good I have you here, actually,¡± I say. ¡°The treehouse instation is tomorrow. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be making a fair bit of noise.¡±


    Her eyes light up. ¡°That¡¯s lovely! The kids are gone for the day?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re staying at my mother¡¯s this weekend, to give me time to set it all up.¡± I clear my throat again. ¡°Anyway, just so you know.¡±


    She backs away, her smile nted. ¡°Let me know if you need help with anything. I¡¯m home all weekend.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Oh, what a dangerous offer. Watching her retreat up her driveway, my mind refocuses on the words she¡¯d spoken earlier. I y them over and over in her soft voice. Me neither. She wants me too, and it¡¯s getting harder and harder to ept that I just don¡¯t have the time she deserves.


    The next day is the summer¡¯s hottest on record for the year. Sweat runs down my back at ten a. m., and the humidity is not helping. Nor is a scheduled treehouse instation with ten men working in the heat.


    I bring myptop out onto the patio and reply to emails while I watch them work. An organized team with all the measurements and materials already prepared offsite, it¡¯s a joy to watch them assemble it all.


    I wonder what Be is seeing on the other side. Is she lying by the side of the pool in the same bikini I¡¯d first seen her in? Are the workers enjoying the view?


    No, Ethan, abort that train of thought. Cut it right off. Valiantly, I manage to only circle back to it a few dozen times throughout the day. Byte afternoon, the treehouse isplete. Beautiful redwood shingles on the roof, with windows and an ascendingdder. The contractor had spoken about adding a deck at ater stage-I¡¯d said no, not now¡­ maybe when the kids got bigger.


    I bid the workers goodbye and climb up into the structure. It holds under my weight. I¡¯m here to inspect it, but I can¡¯t fool myself as to why I look out the east-facing window first.


    Ah, blessed relief-Be¡¯s there.


    Sitting by the pool, a skirt and a bikini top on, her hair unbound. She has a book in hand. I¡¯ve gone and given my kids the best view of the entire property.


    Shaking my head at my thoughts, I look around the space. It¡¯ll be good with the bits and bobs Be helped me to order. Haven and Evie will be over the moon when they see it.


    ¡°Ethan?¡±


    I look back out the window to see Be shading her eyes and looking in my direction.


    I lean out the open window. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful!¡± she calls back. ¡°Well, the part I can see from here!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quite spacious,¡± I say. ¡°Maybe I can rent it out to college students after the girls are gone.¡±


    ¡°A bit of extra ie.¡±


    ¡°Every penny counts.¡±


    She fans herself with the book, her thumb stuck in to keep her ce. ¡°It¡¯s terribly hot today.¡±


    ¡°The worst,¡± I agree. ¡°I¡¯m regretting not putting in a pool right about now.¡±


    Her fanning abruptly stops. ¡°Well, why don¡¯t youe over and swim in mine?¡±


    What an offer.


    There are a hundred reasons why I shouldn¡¯t, but not one of them seems convincing at the moment. Not with her smiling up at me in nothing but a bikini top and a short skirt. The water behind her beckons.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.

 Billion Dollar Catch 20

    ¡°Come on, Rapunzel,¡± she teases. ¡°Let down your hair.¡±


    That does it. ¡°How can I resist, with an invitation like that?¡±


    Ten minutester she opens the gate for me, now in my swim trunks, a towel over my shoulder. She¡¯s slipped out of her skirt-greeting me d in nothing but her dark-blue bikini and the fall of her long hair.


    ¡°Lifesaver,¡± I tell her, my hand opening and closing at my side. The taste of her bursts forth on my tongue again, a reminder of our kiss-of having someone to hold in my arms again.


    ¡°I¡¯m just d for thepany,¡± she says, shooting me a look under her bangs. It¡¯s impossible to decipher. ¡°I never realized quite how far Greenwood is from the center of Seattle. My friendsin about the drive.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not even twenty minutes.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯rezy.¡± She heads to the shallow end of the pool, stepping carefully into the water. The sunlight across the water sends rippling reflections over her fair skin.


    It¡¯s damn near impossible to look away from the curves of her body. My mind catalogues it all on instinct, filing it away without my agreement. Round, firm breasts that would fit perfectly in my palm. A waist that¡¯s begging for my arm around it. Soft thighs and curved hips.


    ¡°Are youing?¡± Be asks, shading her eyes again. Her smile is wide.


    I toss the towel on a nearby chair and join her in the water, wading into the depths. ¡°I should have installed one of these ages ago.¡±


    She dips her head back, rising up like a seal, hair slick around her face. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°The kids. Evie needs to be older before I feelfortable with a death trap in the yard,¡± I say, looking away from her to the treehouse beyond. The kids, who are my priority, even though I want nothing more than to sweep this woman off her feet.


    ¡°Mhm,¡± she says. ¡°I bet there are a ton of decisions you¡¯ve made over the past few years that haven¡¯t been for you. You do a lot for them, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Sure. That¡¯s what it means to be a parent,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t remember when I¡¯ve had a day like this to myself, without the kids or work. It¡¯s been forever.¡±


    I turn on my back and float in the water. The sky above is a deep, cerulean blue. Here with her, it¡¯s easy to ignore all the responsibilities that beckon.


    ¡°Freedom,¡± she says.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I feel like that too, sometimes. And I don¡¯t even have kids.¡±


    I snort. ¡°I thought so too, before they arrived.¡±


    ¡°In between my thesis,working for jobs, applying for fellowships, trying to create a n for the future¡­ It¡¯s all so much.¡±


    ¡°I remember that.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Feeling like you¡¯re falling behind with every passing day? Yeah.¡±


    She snorts, turning around and swimming past me. I follow her, both of us drifting into the deep end. ¡°Somehow I doubt that,¡± she says. ¡°You must have been runningps around your fellow ssmates.¡±


    ¡°What, because of myter sess?¡±


    ¡°Want to know a secret?¡±


    Be swims closer, droplets glittering in her long eyshes. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°I waste to practically every lecture. Had average grades, nothing spectacr. Barely got epted into graduate school.¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ¡°You¡¯re not serious.¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± I say, smiling. ¡°So I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re already way ahead of twenty-five-year-old me on that score.¡±


    She bites her lip. ¡°Ah.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m twenty-four.¡±


    I groan. ¡°Of course you are.¡±


    ¡°Is that a problem?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making me feel even more of a cradle-robber than I already do.¡± The words slip out-no taking them back.


    ¡°A cradle-robber?¡± She swims closer, flicking her hand and sting me with water. It¡¯s cool, washing over my head. ¡°I¡¯m a grown woman!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know that,¡± I say. ¡°But it was still wrong of me toe on to you in the kitchen.¡±


    Be shakes her head, swimming away from me toward the shallower end. I follow hernguidly, my arms cutting through the water.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°When was thest time you had a rtionship with a woman?¡±


    I tread water, watching as she reaches a ce where her feet touch the bottom. She steadies herself against the edge of the pool.


    ¡°A while,¡± I say.


    Her eyes are level on mine. ¡°How long?¡±


    I swim toward her, the words dragged out of me. I¡¯m finding it harder and harder to keep up my usual easygoing, charming personality around Be, at least when she asks me questions like this. ¡°Well, my marriage was thest one.¡±


    Her eyes widen and I hate what¡¯s there, what she¡¯s no doubt thinking. So I look away instead. Thest thing I want is to be pitied.


    ¡°And that ended¡­?¡±


    ¡°Right after Evie was born,¡± I say. ¡°So three years ago.¡±


    ¡°So let me get this straight. The reason you said we couldn¡¯t keep¡­ well, kissing, was because you don¡¯t feel you have the time for any form ofmitment.¡±


    I drift closer to her. Jesus, but it¡¯s hard to think with her this close. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s pretty much it.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 21

    Her smile is half timid, half brave. ¡°So as long as we establish that this is¡­ consensual and fun and entirely without expectations¡­ there shouldn¡¯t be an issue?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re approaching this very logically,¡± I point out.


    She smiles. ¡°Engineering student.¡±


    ¡°I get it,¡± I say. ¡°Engineer, here.¡±


    ¡°So what do you think?¡±


    ¡°If I had to approach this logically?¡±


    Be moves closer, nodding. I lose the fight with my self-control, reaching up to slide wet fingers over her cheek. It¡¯s just as soft as it looks. ¡°I¡¯m having a difficult time thinking at all,¡± I confess.


    And damn it, but Be flushes again, her smile a beautiful thing. ¡°You could, you know, not,¡± she breathes.


    ¡°Not think?¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    I bend my head and savor the moment-the sight of her lips opening for me and her eyes fluttering closed. Just like I¡¯d tried to in the kitchen, I kiss her softly. Properly.


    The taste of her lips is like honey, sweet and overwhelming. It draws me in. Soon, cupping her cheeks isn¡¯t enough, and my hands venture down under the surface to close around her waist.


    Be sighs into my mouth. It¡¯s a soft, trusting sound, one that speaks of surrender, and damn if my body doesn¡¯t ache to receive all she might have to offer.


    ¡°See?¡± she murmurs, stepping close enough that our bodies are flush below the surface. ¡°Look at me having no expectations. I¡¯m doing it so well.¡±


    I pull back long enough to chuckle, my fingers digging into her hips. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to have none.¡±


    Heat shes in her eyes, brief and fiery, and then a shy smile spreads across her face. It would take a far stronger man than me to resist. I can¡¯t, it¡¯s that simple. So I kiss her again, luxuriating in the feel of her against my lips. The taste of her against my tongue.


    It¡¯s nothing at all to lift up her up and tell her to wrap her legs around my waist. To reach under her, gripping her thighs to keep her secure.


    Be twines her arms around my neck like I¡¯m all the support she needs, like she trusts me. And damn it, for so long I¡¯d thought I was tired of being the one people leaned on-in my business, my family, my rtionships. But here with her, it makes me feel like I can do anything at all, just because this beautiful young woman trusts my strength.


    ¡°Damn,¡± I murmur, breaking off long enough to kiss her cheek. ¡°I came over for a dip in your pool.¡±


    Her smile widens and I hear my own words back, groaning. ¡°That¡¯s not how I meant that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she murmurs, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses to my neck. It¡¯s making it very, very hard to focus on keeping my hands where they are and not sliding them down. The desire to tug her bikini out of-no. That¡¯s not me. Shouldn¡¯t be, at least.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Be,¡± I breathe, my fingers digging into the supple skin beneath my hands. ¡°Thest time I had a moment to myself was years ago.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she murmurs again, her hands now buried in my hair. She does some sort of sorcery with her fingers, twisting and tugging, and I lose all train of thought. No one has touched me like that in a long, long time. Perhaps ever. ¡°This is good though, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I groan. ¡°Very.¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in her voice, speaking between soft, feathery kisses. ¡°We¡¯re adults. We can make adult decisions.¡±


    ¡°God help us, yes we can.¡±


    Her hands rake down my back and the shivers that explode over my skin are heavenly, they¡¯re maic, and it¡¯s impossible to not take control of the kiss. I can¡¯t resist sliding a hand down to her ass and squeezing.


    The water might be cool but there¡¯s a fire raging below, in the space between our bodies, pressed so close together. Be bites into my lower lip and holy shit, I don¡¯t think a woman has ever done that before. I palm one of her tits through the thin, flimsy fabric of her bikini top.


    Somehow, the string tiees undone, and then my hand is the only thing covering the soft swell. A taut nipple tickles my palm.


    My poor, shattered self-control frays further.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I murmur. Be nces down, her chest now bare as the top floats uselessly between us. I look down, too, and she¡¯s fucking perfect. ¡°So much better up close.¡±


    Beughs, leaning in to hug me. It hides her tits from view, but now they¡¯re pressed tight against my chest, and that¡¯s definitely not less distracting. ¡°Whoops,¡± she breathes.


    I smooth a hand over her back. Had that been nervousughter? ¡°Truly unintentional,¡± I say. ¡°I can close my eyes while you cover back up.¡±


    Another chuckle, more genuine this time. ¡°Nothing you haven¡¯t seen before.¡±


    ¡°At quite some distance,¡± I point out.


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± Her lips briefly touch my shoulder. ¡°But I did notice that you put a window in the treehouse facing this way.¡±


    I grip her tightly and wade toward the edge of the pool. ¡°A construction error,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure it has shutters.¡±


    Anotherugh. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve started covering up.¡±


    ¡°Practically a crime,¡± I tease, and she rxes entirely in my arms, leaning back again. I don¡¯t look down at her chest again. It takes willpower, and probably gives me a few new gray hairs, but somehow I manage.


    ¡°So,¡± she says, knotting her fingers behind my neck. If the kisses hadn¡¯t already, the look in her eyes alone would break down my resolve. It¡¯s soft and shy and kind, all at once, as she gazes at me like I¡¯m a man without baggage and burdens, a man she likes.


    ¡°So,¡± I echo. ¡°Clearly, I want to spend time with you, despite not having much time at all. Do you think I can manufacture some? Invent a machine for that?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d make a fortune,¡± she says, ¡°but I think we¡¯ll manage without it, too.¡±


    ¡°Somehow,¡± I say. ¡°Because I do want to eat a proper dinner with you. Just the two of us. Though God knows when we¡¯ll manage that.¡±


    ¡°Tonight?¡± she asks, ncing toward my side of the hedge. ¡°Your mother still has the girls, right?¡±


    I frown. ¡°She does. But I promised to have dinner with my brother.¡± Could I cancel? Liam never came to town, the bastard, but Be is warm and half-naked in my arms¡­


    ¡°Oh, of course you should do that. I¡¯ll be here.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t incentivize me to go,¡± I say, releasing my hold on her. I close my eyes and keep them that way.


    Beughs. ¡°You can look, you know.¡±


    ¡°Not if we¡¯re going to get out of this pool and go our separate ways I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± she says. ¡°As if I¡¯m irresistible.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 22

    ¡°You have no idea.¡± Complete honesty fills my voice. ¡°Can I open my eyes now?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She¡¯s flushed and wet and gorgeous, all covered up again. ¡°When are you meeting him?¡±


    ¡°Far too soon, probably.¡±


    She chuckles. ¡°Poor brother. You seem so excited about it.¡±


    I kiss her again, taking my time. It¡¯s a kiss to savor, now that I know there¡¯s more of this toe. I can¡¯t wait. ¡°I¡¯d better go,¡± I say. ¡°Want to help me set up the inside of the treehouse tomorrow? I have about forty-five minutes of kid-free time.¡±


    Beughs, waving me away. ¡°Go. And yes, I¡¯ll help. I can¡¯t wait.¡±


    And judging by the tone of her voice, she means it, too.


    I knock on Ethan¡¯s door the next day, right on time. I¡¯m not the least bit nervous, nor has the memory of yesterday been ying on repeat-of being in his arms, our bodies pressed together underwater, his warm, demanding mouth on mine¡­


    No, I¡¯m unaffected. And if I could only tell myself that enough times, it might be true.


    I¡¯d said I had no expectations, but after he kissed me, well¡­ That¡¯s not entirely true now, not when I know what he¡¯s capable of. And if he only had time for me every other week, that would be okay, if only he¡¯d kiss me like that. Like he wanted me more than he wanted air, his hands gripping me like I was desire itself.


    I press the heels of my hands against my burning cheeks. Until a few months ago, I¡¯d been six years into a rtionship with my ex and content. He was still the only man I¡¯d ever slept with. Who was this new me who made out in pools with attractive older men?


    Ethan¡¯s front door opens. ¡°Sorry for the wait,¡± he says. ¡°I was on the phone. Come on in.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Our arms brush as I step past him inside. There¡¯s a hint of him, of soap and linen and man, in the air between us.


    ¡°No, thank you,¡± he says, shutting the door firmly behind me. ¡°For helping me with the treehouse. Foring over whenever we need you. Brownies, interior decorating¡­ you know everything.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me, at your service.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s eyes lighten. He reaches out and braces a hand against the wall on either side of me. ¡°At my service?¡±


    I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m breathing. ¡°Yes.¡±


    He bends to press a warm kiss to my neck, right below my jaw. A shudder runs through me at the contact. ¡°And now I have you here all alone,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°So it¡¯s it was all a ruse? You never wanted my treehouse decorating skills.¡±


    His lips trail up to meet mine. It¡¯s slow, tentative,nguid. Drawing me out and into the kiss until I¡¯m drowning in it. He doesn¡¯t stop when I¡¯m struggling for breath. No, Ethan just returns to my neck, continuing down, turning back the edge of my shirt to reach my corbone.


    I grip his shoulders. ¡°Eager?¡± I murmur, but I¡¯m talking about myself here, because I¡¯m shivering all over.


    Ethan smiles against my skin. His kisses slow, returning to my mouth. His hands dig into my waist. ¡°Yes. I can¡¯t help it,¡± he says. ¡°After yesterday, well¡­¡±


    I run soft fingers over his cheek. He hasn¡¯t shaved today, the stubble sharp against my fingers. It¡¯s wrong topare, but my mind goes there anyway. He¡¯s different in every possible way from the only man I¡¯ve been with before.


    ¡°I get it,¡± I whisper. ¡°I feel it too.¡±


    Ethan groans and rests his forehead against mine. ¡°Where did youe from?¡±


    ¡°Route 520,¡± I murmur. ¡°From central Seattle. Took the exit over by Evergreen za, and then east into Greenwood.¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    He gives me his wide smile, the one that takes my breath away. It speaks of days in the sun and arms strong enough to carry both your groceries and your troubles. He kisses me again, and I have the distinct feeling of being swept off my feet, of flying further and further away from the Be who takes things slowly and methodically and who-


    Ethan¡¯s phone rings. He breaks away from me, his hand sliding from my waist to his pocket in search of the offender.


    He raises the phone to his ear, his smile gone. ¡°Hi.¡±


    I wrap my arms around myself and follow him, at his insistence, into the living room. Boxes of items he¡¯d ordered are spread out on the hardwood floor. I look through a massive box of throw pillows and listen to Ethan¡¯s conversation.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not eptable. I¡¯ve told you this before. I want at least a week¡¯s advance notice, and I want you to send me a copy of the flight details.¡±


    His voice is unlike I¡¯ve ever heard it before.


    ¡°I¡¯m not keeping you from them. I¡¯m just holding you to two very simple rules. Do you want me to write them down?¡±


    I grab a box of the outdoor lights and contemte heading out into the garden. This is a personal conversation.


    ¡°I remember,¡± he mutters. ¡°And if you think it¡¯ll make me more likely to¡­ No¡­ Yes, and anyway, it¡¯s simple. Let me know more than a week in advance and I¡¯ll be the one to tell them.¡±


    Yeah, I should be out of here. I clutch the box of lights tight and head toward the patio door.


    ¡°I won¡¯t put them on.¡± His voice softens, but it¡¯s not with kindness. It feels almost threatening. ¡°Lyra, that tactic won¡¯t work either. Let me know when you¡¯ve booked your flight.¡±


    I¡¯ve just gotten the patio doors open when Ethan clicks off the phone. After taking a deep breath, he picks up two of the miniature wooden chairs, one under each arm, and heads toward me.


    ¡°Trying to make an escape?¡± he asks, but the genuine humor in his voice is gone. It¡¯s been reced by that furrow in his brow, the one that makes him look older than he is. Funny, what a difference expressions make.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°That sounded personal. I didn¡¯t want to intrude.¡±


    We walk in silence across hiswn toward the treehouse in the corner. It¡¯s beyond anything I¡¯d imagined-shingles and a stedder and a tiny balcony. Small window-boxes have been installed, too. It¡¯s kid heaven. Rich kid heaven, perhaps. It looks like a dream.


    I pause on thewn. Ethan stops too, looking from me to the treehouse. His face lightens somewhat. ¡°Impressed?¡±


    ¡°Wildly,¡± I say. ¡°Can I move in? I promise I won¡¯t y loud music. I¡¯ll be the model tenant.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Tempting, but I¡¯m not sure that wouldply with housing regtions. It doesn¡¯t have any heating. Not to mention it¡¯s tiny. Like, miniscule.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t knock my new house.¡±


    Ethan chuckles, putting the chairs down by thedder. ¡°Just wait till you see the patio add-on thepany sent me sketches of.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    He runs a hand over his neck. ¡°And you weren¡¯t intruding.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°It was my ex-wife.¡± His jaw works, looking away from me toward the house. ¡°She likes to talk a big game abouting to visit, but she rarely does. The girls get worked up about hering only to be disappointed when she bails.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 23

    ¡°Ah. That¡¯s why you¡¯ve set rules?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Someone has to.¡± He shakes his head, motioning me to join him as he heads back to the house. I pick up another box of pillows and he grabs the child-sized table.


    My mind is reeling with questions as I follow him back across thewn. Why, how, when, who? There¡¯s a story here, but like all stories, it¡¯ll have to be told at its own pace.


    Ethan sets the child-sized table down with an exhale. ¡°Damn it,¡± he mutters. ¡°She¡¯s not even here, and she¡¯s still ruining this.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let her,¡± I tell him. That¡¯s what I¡¯d had to realize thest few months after the break-up with Ryan. I could let his actions haunt me and consume me and make my day miserable¡­ or I could shut them out altogether.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    His smile is nted. ¡°Truer words have never been spoken. Come on, I want you to see the inside.¡±


    I climb up thedder and peer inside the treehouse, the smell of fresh wood in my nostrils. More spacious than it looked, the treehouse is gorgeous, with carved details in the ceiling and a built-in bookcase alongside one wall.


    ¡°Yep, I¡¯ll take it,¡± I say.


    Ethanughs. ¡°Still not for sale.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you an offer you can¡¯t refuse.¡± Turning around, I stretch my arms out. ¡°Come on. Hand me the chairs.¡±


    Piece by piece, we decorate the interior, Ethan helping me as I hang up the lights. They fall in lovely draping lines from the ceiling and down around the eaves. When he connects them to the outdoor electricity system¡­ well, it¡¯s beautiful.


    I sink down onto the heap of cushions we¡¯ve built in one corner, right by the bookcase. ¡°Haven and Evie will love it.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll want to sleep out here tonight,¡± Ethan says, settling himself beside me. ¡°I can already see us having the argument.¡±


    I smile, reaching out to dislodge a piece of errant sawdust caught in his hair. ¡°You win some, you lose some,¡± I murmur.


    Ethan stills, shifting closer. ¡°Do that again.¡±


    ¡°This?¡± I run my fingers through his hair, less careful now. It¡¯s like coarse silk against my skin.


    It¡¯s very easy to oblige. I lean against the wall and gently scrape my nails against his scalp.


    Ethan groans. ¡°Continue like this and I might actually let you move in here.¡±


    ¡°Do you allow pets?¡± I ask. ¡°Because Toast needs a human keeper.¡±


    ¡°Not usually, but I¡¯ll make an exception for you.¡± A muscr arm reaches out and settles across my legs, a handing to rest on my bare thigh.


    Not once have I been so physically aware of a man-of where our bodies touch, of his physicality, of the very air that separates us.


    ¡°You are almost too good to be true,¡± he says.


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°I tell you I can¡¯t offer you anything, and instead of running, you just ept it. You make no demands. I¡¯m trying to figure out your angle.¡±


    ¡°My angle?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Nobody can be this kind and smart, not to mention unbelievably hot.¡±


    Myughter is shaky. Maybe Ethan notices that, because he turns, an eyebrow raised. ¡°You don¡¯t believe me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been called many things, but not hot.¡±


    His brow furrows. ¡°What kind of morons have you dated?¡±


    More shakyughter. I can y it off with a joke, but he¡¯d just spoken about his ex-wife, and here in the small space with him¡­


    ¡°Just the one,¡± I say. ¡°He had his moronic moments, though.¡±


    ¡°The one?¡±


    Ethan¡¯s hand on my thigh moves, smoothing up and down, even as he turns to face me fully. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    I put a hand on his chest and y with the buttons. The slide into sensuality is effortless, with both of us reclined here on the pillows. ¡°We were together for a long time,¡± I say. ¡°Six years.¡±


    ¡°Six years?¡± he murmurs. ¡°I wasn¡¯t even married that long.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°Three and a half,¡± he says. ¡°But tell me more about you.¡±


    I drop my head back into the soft pillows. There¡¯s no way I can tell Ethan about how Ryan had walked out-about the words he¡¯d spoken one morning over breakfast. Pass me the butter. Oh, and I¡¯ve found someone else. ¡°This wasn¡¯t supposed to be feelings o¡¯clock.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s hands settle around my waist. ¡°And all because I had the audacity to call you hot,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I won¡¯t do it again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank you.¡±


    ¡°I can use other words. Sexy, irresistible, a turn-on¡­¡±


    Laughing, I pull his face down to mine. He obliges immediately, lips settling on mine. It¡¯s a long, long while before we break apart enough for me to speak, and when we do, I can barely remember the conversation.


    ¡°Charmer,¡± I murmur, shifting so he can settle morefortably against me. It¡¯s a simple enough movement-almost instinctual. But as my legs widen to make room, I can feel the hardness of him pressing against my thigh. All my attention narrows to that single point of contact, even as Ethan continues kissing me, as his hand slips under my shirt.


    It¡¯s intoxicating and frightening and invigorating, my body tingling. Ethan wants me, and here is visceral proof of that. The idea of being hot and irresistible shifts from a foreign concept to something very real. A role he¡¯s cast me in-a role I¡¯ll y dly. It doesn¡¯t even feel like acting.


    He kisses down my neck, his hands working expertly along the length of my blouse. Button after button falls to his skill, his mouth there a secondter.


    ¡°Like silk,¡± he murmurs, his lips against my stomach.


    Maybe it¡¯s those words. Maybe it¡¯s his touch. Or maybe I¡¯ve hungered for this for so long, for touch that¡¯s uplicated and strong. There¡¯s no doubting his desire.


    And it feels so good to be wanted.


    So I reach down and undo the front sp of my bra. The cups spring apart, and Ethan is there an instantter, wide hands caressing the fabric off.


    ¡°Nothing you haven¡¯t seen before.¡± I aim for teasing, but my voicees out breathless. ¡°The first time from this very tree.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 24

    He hums low in his throat, staring down at my boobs like they contain all the answers, capable of curing cancer and restoring peace in the Middle East. His hands on my waist tighten into a bruising grip.


    ¡°All right,¡± I murmur into the silence. ¡°So I guess you¡¯re more of a boob man. d we have that settled.¡±


    Ethanughs huskily, a handing up to cup and weigh and tease. ¡°Recent convert,¡± he says, bending to flick his tongue over a rapidly hardening nipple. The sensation makes me gasp, and when he settles his mouth and sucks¡­


    Is it possible to shatter from this alone? I never have before, but as Ethan¡¯s mouth bites and licks, I think I just might. I wrap my legs more firmly around him and surrender to the touch.


    And touch me he does. Hands on my waist, my hips, my neck, my nipples. Hands on the buttons to my shorts. I rise up on my elbows and shrug out of my shirt altogether. It suddenly feels like the easiest thing in the world to give in to the fire between us, to take off my clothes. His pleasure in my body is evident-why shouldn¡¯t I feel the same way?


    Ethan kisses me, tongue against mine. I grip his shoulders as he breaks apart long enough to speak. ¡°Tell me if it¡¯s too much,¡± he murmurs, his hand smoothing down my stomach to stop at the waistband of my shorts.


    Oh Lord.


    His hand dives clean underneath the waistband of both shorts and panties, smoothing over skin and then he¡¯s there. I gasp as his fingers make contact.


    Ethan groans. ¡°Be, holy shit.¡±


    We breathe in tandem as his fingers reach further down still and one slides deliciously deep inside. His groan is deeper this time.


    ¡°You¡¯re so wet.¡±


    Faint embarrassment, and then nothing, because his hand is parting and stroking and I need to get him out of his clothes, too. I want skin on skin on skin on skin.


    Ethan¡¯s hand disappears. He grips my shorts and cotton panties instead and I lift my hips obediently. He tugs, tossing them to the side, and then I¡¯m naked and covered at the same time-covered in his dark gaze as it rakes me from head to toe. Fire spreads through me as it cloaks, shields, driving away any hints of insecurity.


    His eyes lock between my legs. A hand returns, circling, stroking, once easing inside and I arch up, staring blindly at the pinewood ceiling.


    Ethan curses. ¡°Fuck, Be, I need you.¡±


    I reach for him.


    His phone goes off.


    ¡°Why,¡± he curses, ¡°does this always happen?¡±


    Iugh breathlessly and wrap both my arms and legs around him. He¡¯s still fully clothed, his jeans rough against my skin. ¡°Don¡¯t go.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to.¡± He reaches for his phone, turning off the rm.


    ¡°Will they be here soon?¡±


    ¡°In ten minutes,¡± he says. ¡°My mother is bringing them over, and I told her to be very punctual.¡±


    Gripping his shoulders, I press a kiss to his cheek-the only part of his face I can reach from this position. ¡°In that case, you definitely need to let me get dressed.¡±


    ¡°Let me take it under consideration.¡±


    Giggling, I wiggle against him. ¡°And we need to get the flowers in here. And turn on the lights. And the te of cookies.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Whose side are you on?¡± he asks darkly, but he sits back on his heels and drags me up into sitting with him.


    ¡°Yours.¡±


    He hands me my clothes, running a hand over his face. ¡°Holy shit. That was¡­ intense.¡±


    I slide up my panties and shorts, feeling the exact same way. ¡°You could say that.¡±


    He watches as I fasten my bra, eyes dark.


    ¡°It¡¯s not goodbye forever,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°Thank God for the small mercies.¡± He kisses me, hard and true. ¡°Will you stay? Be here when they get back?¡±


    ¡°Of course I will, if that¡¯s okay.¡±


    He helps me down thedder, hands on my waist and lifting me thest bit. ¡°It absolutely is.¡± Reaching down, he adjusts his trousers. ¡°Although I¡¯ll have to stop myself from kissing you for a few minutes.¡±


    Laughing, I grab his hand, pulling him toward the house. My body feels too light and too heavy at the same time. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s fix thest things.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s just so pretty,¡± Haven says. It¡¯s the twentieth time she¡¯s made the same observation today. She¡¯s sitting cross-legged on one of the tiny kid-chairs, a book open in front of her, and the widest, happiest smile on her face.


    ¡°That was the idea,¡± I say. I¡¯m halfway up thedder, leaning in through the door. ¡°But you still can¡¯t sleep here tonight.¡±


    She blinks at me, eyes wide. ¡°Why not, Daddy?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve already discussed that.¡±


    Evie gives a dramatic sigh from her sprawl on the cushions. ¡°I¡¯m staying.¡±


    ¡°Neither of you are.¡± My voice is firm. ¡°There are no beds here, no ss in the windows. It¡¯ll get cold and damp.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s summer,¡± Evie says. Her voice is tiny but full of fiery determination.


    ¡°What happens when you need to pee at night?¡± I point out. ¡°No bathroom out here.¡±


    That momentarily stumps them both.


    But then Haven¡¯s eyes light up. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to go back to the house. It¡¯s not that far.¡±


    I lean my head against the wooden doorframe. I¡¯d really created my own monster with this one. ¡°Mr. Snuggles lives in your room,¡± I point out to Evie. ¡°I don¡¯t think he would like sleeping out here. Elephants don¡¯t climb.¡±


    Her small face screws up with sudden consternation. This is a problem.


    ¡°You can carry him, or I could,¡± Haven points out, disying a rare bit of sisterly assistance. I¡¯d be pleased at that, if she wasn¡¯t doing it to further her own goals.


    Evie nods slowly. ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°But Mr. Snuggles doesn¡¯t like the dark.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. And it¡¯ll get very dark out here,¡± I say. ¡°No night lights.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 25

    Evie rises from the pillows, her mouth now set in a different kind of determination. She heads toward me. ¡°Come on, Haven,¡± she tells her big sister.


    Victory!


    ¡°Want to jump?¡± I ask, holding my arms out to catch her. Squealing, she throws herself out of the treehouse and I catch her, spinning her around. Crazy to think that I won¡¯t always be able to do this. A few more years and she¡¯ll be too big. A few more years after that and she¡¯ll be asking to wear makeup or go on dates, and then college and-


    ¡°Faster!¡± she screams.


    So I spin her around until my arms ache, until Haven rolls her eyes impatiently. But I ask her too, of course.


    ¡°Do you want to jump too?¡±


    She hesitates only a moment before nodding. I catch her as well, and when I bend to pick up Evie, both of them give little hoots. It¡¯s been a long time since I carried both of them at the same time. My body reminds me exactly why I¡¯d stopped, but I ignore the protesting muscles. Mind over matter.


    ¡°Daddy truck,¡± Evie deres.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I grunt. Haven pushes the patio door open and I set them both down on the living-room carpet, ignoring the protests. ¡°Whoops,¡± I say. ¡°The Daddy truck ran out of gas.¡±


    Maria snorts from the kitchen, and I¡¯m happy at least someone appreciates my amazing jokes. ¡°Dinner¡¯s almost ready,¡± she calls.


    Evie throws herself onto the couch and scrambles to arrange the pillows into a little fort. ¡°Is Being too?¡± she asks.


    I blink at her. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°But Be was the one who fixed the treehouse,¡± Haven says. ¡°She should get dinner.¡±


    I rub the back of my neck, no idea at all how to respond. ¡°I installed it,¡± I say weakly. Well, technically I paid someone to, but the nuances of that seemed unimportant to explore with a six- and a three-year-old.


    Maria joins the conversation. ¡°Maybe she wants more than the asional hello,¡± she suggests. ¡°She¡¯s been very kind to the girls.¡±


    I look at my housekeeper in surprise. Seeing my nce, she just clucks her tongue and shakes her head, turning back to ting. Her expression makes it clear that I¡¯m being slow.


    All right then. I clear my throat. ¡°Would you like it if Be came over for dinner tomorrow evening?¡±


    Both girls cheer, Evie going so far as to break into a little impromptu dance, wiggling her butt.


    Apprehension makes my stomach knot. Thest thing I want is for them to get too attached to someone who isn¡¯t permanent. Lord knows their mother had already done enough damage on the trust front.


    ¡°I like it too,¡± Maria says. ¡°I¡¯ll make something special. I like having guests to cook for.¡±


    ¡°Steak?¡± Evie asks hopefully. For some reason, she¡¯s gotten it into her head that steak is her favorite food, even though she only ever eats a few slices. It really is mine, though. Perhaps that¡¯s why she¡¯s adopted it too.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Maria says. ¡°Or perhaps we¡¯ll make homemade pizza? You can all make your own? And afterwards you can show Be your dance recital, Haven.¡±


    The girlsunch into feverish practice at that suggestion, so energetic that I have to tell them off when it¡¯s time to get seated for dinner. They¡¯re still excited when I put them to bed, even as I read them their favorite stories and stay for ten minutes extra to make sure they¡¯re truly out for the count.


    And then I let my mind stray to the one thing it had wanted to obsess over since that morning. The memory has been nonstop knocking on my mental door, and now I let it in, reveling in it.


    Be, naked and smiling beneath me in the treehouse.


    The feel of her body under my hands, the expanse of fair skin, smooth and rosy and freckled and dear God, the slick heat of her¡­ The mental image makes my body ache with need. If only I could¡¯ve buried myself inside of her and felt her arms around me, her body shuddering¡­


    What hade over me? I¡¯d practically mauled her in my children¡¯s new treehouse, for Christ¡¯s sake. The more I think about it, the more aroused I get, and the more aroused I get, the more the guilt grows.


    So when the house is quiet, when I¡¯ve made sure everyone is asleep, I softly shut the door to my bedroom and give her a call.


    She answers on the second signal. ¡°Ethan?¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry for calling sote.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s notte. It¡¯s not even nine o¡¯clock.¡±


    ¡°Right. I suppose I¡¯m on a different schedule,¡± I say. ¡°Everyone¡¯s asleep here.¡±


    She gives a softugh. ¡°How¡¯d it go after I left? Did they y in it the whole day?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I had to convince them not to sleep in it, too.¡±


    ¡°You were right.¡±


    ¡°I usually am.¡±


    Her breathlessughter sounds indecently husky to my ear. ¡°So humble, too.¡±


    ¡°The humblest,¡± I say. ¡°But Be, about earlier¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what came over me. Just yesterday I told you I wanted to take you to dinner, and today I practically attack you.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± she protests. ¡°I was equally involved.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    The image of her absolutely unreal body rears its glorious head again. I think it might keep hitting me in regr intervals from now on, for the rest of my life, never lessening in potency.


    There are worse fates.


    ¡°You were,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m d we were interrupted about as much as I hate that we were.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have stopped you.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have stopped,¡± I vow.


    Be¡¯s sigh is a tad shaky. ¡°What are you doing now?¡±


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m lying on my bed. I¡¯ve just put two very excited children to bed. I¡¯m actually on the phone right now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you are?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 26

    ¡°Yes. With my neighbors¡¯ young, ridiculously hot niece. She¡¯s moved in for the summer.¡±


    ¡°Is she nice?¡±


    ¡°Very,¡± I say. ¡°Too nice, actually. Shees over with baked goods and helpful ideas and is very understanding about my role as single dad. It¡¯s almost too much.¡±


    ¡°Gosh,¡± Be says. ¡°She sounds awful.¡±


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s the worst,¡± I agree. ¡°I keep hoping she¡¯ll have some w, something humanizing, but Ie up short every time.¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s that perfect. You¡¯ll just have to keep digging,¡± Be suggests.


    ¡°Regarding that,¡± I say. ¡°Would you let me dig tomorrow?¡±


    A brief pause. ¡°What kind of digging are we talking about here?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t an innuendo. That¡¯s a bit on the nose, even for me.¡± I run a hand through my hair. Do I sound too excited at the prospect? ¡°No, I was wondering if you¡¯d like toe over for dinner.¡±


    ¡°Oh! I¡¯d love to!¡±


    ¡°The girls would be here too. They were the ones who suggested it, actually.¡±


    Her voice turns yful. ¡°I see. You were pressured into making me an offer.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°They have water guns aimed at my head as we speak.¡±


    ¡°Do you need to be rescued?¡±


    ¡°Think you could handle them if I said yes?¡±


    She snorts. ¡°Handle? Please. I can do one better than that. I can offer to teach them how to bake cookies in exchange for handing over their weapons.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I admit. ¡°They¡¯d cave in an instant.¡±


    Beughs again. It¡¯s a beautiful sound, feminine and happy. A sound I want to be responsible for drawing out again and again. ¡°I¡¯ll be there,¡± she says. ¡°Anything to save you from being forced to make advances under duress.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. But just so we¡¯re clear, none of my advances to you have been under any kind of duress.¡±


    Quite the opposite. I can¡¯t seem to stay away.


    ¡°Well,¡± she says, voice dropping low. ¡°I¡¯m d to hear that, although, after today¡­ I didn¡¯t really think they were.¡±


    Myughteres out a bit hoarse. ¡°No, I was pretty forward.¡±


    ¡°I enjoyed it. And maybe tomorrow evening, after the girls have gone to bed, I could stay for a little while?¡±


    Holy shit. Just those words, just the promise of it, and my body reacts. The image of her naked resurfaces in my mind like clockwork. Fucking hell.


    No less potent.


    And my name, whispered¡­ ¡°You should definitely stay after they¡¯ve gone to bed.¡±


    ¡°Okay, good.¡± A smile in her voice. I can see it in front of me-kind, tentative, yful, shy, all of those things rolled up in one. This woman is driving me insane. ¡°Goodnight then.¡±


    ¡°Goodnight, Be.¡±


    But it¡¯s a long time until my body has finally calmed down enough to settle for sleep, and only after I¡¯ve taken the edge off with my own right hand.


    Tomorrow couldn¡¯te fast enough.


    ¡°This movie is really good,¡± Evie tells Be. ¡°The best.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Haven slumps against the giant cushion fortress she¡¯s built in front of the TV, her little sister lying down beside her.


    ¡°Only okay?¡± Be asks, not seeing the not-so-subtle shake of my head. This is thorny territory.


    Haven jumps on the chance toin. ¡°Yes, because it doesn¡¯t have a prince in it!¡±


    ¡°No prince!¡± Evie chimes in happily. A familiar logo appears on the TV in front of us.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Be says tactfully. Yeah, this movie is a frequent source of conflict in this household-as are all decisions. But I¡¯d implemented a system. The kids each get to choose what to watch every other day. Simple. Fair. An elegant solution.


    And always met withints.


    ¡°But movies without princes are great too,¡± Be says. ¡°After all, every movie can¡¯t have a prince in it. And not all princesses need a prince.¡±


    Evie grins, not at all tactful in her victory. ¡°Exactly.¡±


    It¡¯s a great message. Could she also tell them never to date? Like, ever?


    Be nces back at me, smiling.


    ¡°Great answer,¡± I tell her.


    She pretends to wipe sweat off her forehead and settles back on the couch next to me. ¡°Felt tricky,¡± she stage-whispers.


    There¡¯s no need to. Once the movie is ying, both of the girls zone out entirely. Bombs could be falling around the house and they wouldn¡¯t hear a thing.


    Although, I¡¯m somehow certain that if I yelled who wants ice cream, they¡¯d find a way to break that trance.


    I barely watch the film-I¡¯ve seen it enough times. No, Be is the interesting show here. Stretching my arm out, I drape it over the back of the couch. Just enough that I can curl my fingers over her shoulder.


    Be nces up at me, a smile in her eyes. ¡°Hello,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I murmur back. ¡°No need for a prince, huh?¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    She pushes her thigh against mine. yful, but my body is on hair-trigger alert, and my other handnds on her leg. ¡°Not actively looking for one, at least,¡± she teases. ¡°But if you happen to find one along the way¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± My thumb rubs circles on the smooth skin of her knee. Thank God for summer and dresses. ¡°An idental prince.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 27

    ¡°Something like that.¡±


    ¡°Picked up along your own adventure,¡± I say. Her hair has slipped forward, blocking her cheek from view, and she pushes it back with a slim hand.


    ¡°I think I¡¯d be more interested in finding someone to go on adventures with.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± I say, keeping my voice light. Of course she wants to make her mark on the world. Perhaps travel the globe, meet interesting people. And my adventuring days are if not over, at the very least put on indefinite pause.


    Be¡¯s hand finds its way up to my head and then her fingers are twining in my hair. My eyes flit closed of their own ord. ¡°Damn it,¡± I murmur. ¡°Sorcery.¡±


    How can something so simple feel so good? I crack open one eye to see if the girls are still preupied-yes, they¡¯re glued to the movie-and close my eyes again.


    ¡°Nobody does this for you, huh?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°We can¡¯t all be princesses with castles and butlers.¡±


    ¡°No, some of us just have mansions and staff.¡±


    I bark augh at that. Evie nces back and gives a sharp ¡°Shh, Daddy!¡± before turning back around. No sign at all that she¡¯d even registered my arm around Be.


    But there is being reckless and there is being in stupid. So I force iron-d will through my veins and remove my hand from her knee. It isn¡¯t easy. The awareness of her body against mine is more than a physical thing. It feels like a force, urgent and pressing, and I¡¯m entirely caught in its grip.


    It¡¯s a relief when the moviees to its predictable end. I extricate myself from Be, though it feels like losing a limb, and tell Haven and Evie it¡¯s time to go to bed.


    Haven epts her fate stoically-this happens once a day, after all-but Evie puts up a fight. All the usual tactics fail, until it bes clear she¡¯s just biding for time.


    ¡°Be?¡± she asks. There¡¯s a rare note of shyness in her voice.


    ¡°Yes, Evie?¡±


    ¡°Will you read to me?¡±


    My heart kicks into overdrive. They¡¯re getting too attached, they¡¯re getting too attached¡­


    ¡°Of course I will.¡± Be takes Evie¡¯s hand in hers and my daughter pulls her toward her room, almost skipping. The sight is enough to still the quiet panic in my head.


    ¡°Daddy?¡± Haven asks from her bedroom, a book in her hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ming.¡±


    It takes twenty minutes for Haven to fall asleep. I close the door gently behind me, only to see that Evie¡¯s is still open. When I peek inside, Be is sitting beside my daughter¡¯s bed, the book closed in herp.


    Evie is fast asleep.Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    Be motions questioningly. Can I leave?


    It makes me chuckle. ¡°Yeah,e on.¡±


    She tiptoes out of the bedroom and I close that door, too.


    ¡°She was out like a light.¡±


    ¡°And sleeps like a baby.¡±


    ¡°Very fitting.¡±


    I motion with my head and we walk down the stairs. ¡°Thank you for staying. For reading to her.¡±


    ¡°I enjoyed it,¡± Be says. ¡°I don¡¯t have any nieces and nephews, no kids around me¡­ I tried doing voices. I don¡¯t know if it worked.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure it did. I never have the patience for that. No, it¡¯s safe to say you have two new members of the Be Simmons fan club.¡±


    She walks ahead of me into the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen ind. ¡°Just two?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m already a fan.¡±


    ¡°You are?¡±


    ¡°Have been for weeks,¡± I say. ¡°Did you like the movie?¡±


    In the dark, her eyes are almost ck. ¡°I didn¡¯t catch a word.¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± I say. ¡°Neither did I.¡±


    ¡°What do you want to do now?¡±


    ¡°I think I have games. We could drink wine and y.¡±


    She nods slowly. ¡°Games.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Most of them are for kids. I have Twister. Operation. Forty-piece puzzles.¡±


    ¡°Exciting.¡±


    ¡°Very. But I might have Yahtzee somewhere.¡± Potentially in the garage. Or the attic. It seems very unimportant.


    Be steps closer, wetting her lips. ¡°I don¡¯t want to y Yahtzee.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that good of a game,¡± I agree.


    ¡°Too much math,¡± she says.


    I reach up and run my fingers along her cheek, down to her chin, tipping her head back. Her skin is like silk, and now I know that it¡¯s like that everywhere. ¡°Says the engineering student.¡±


    ¡°To the engineer.¡± Her voice is a soft exhale against me.


    ¡°There is one game we could y.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have a good name,¡± I admit. ¡°Repeat-of-what happened-in-the-treehouse is the working title.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 28

    ¡°But without interruptions?¡±


    ¡°But without interruptions, yeah.¡±


    Her hands tten against my chest. It¡¯s nothing at all to dip my head a bit further, to press my lips against hers, to feel the sweet thrill of her mouth opening to me. So I do.


    Be kisses me back like she wants me just as much. No pretension, no deception. Just warm eptance and heat.


    She wraps her arms around me. The simple act presses her body tight against mine, soft in all the right ces, and my previous resolution to go slow disappears entirely. Poof, gone.


    My hands grip her thighs and lift her up on the kitchen ind. Beughs breathlessly, but I cut it off with a kiss. Her hands rake through my hair just the way I like, and fucking hell I want this woman. More than I¡¯ve ever wanted anything.


    My hands find the hem of her shirt and slip under, smoothing over the soft skin of her waist and hips. Moving higher still.


    Be pulls away from my lips enough to speak. I don¡¯t pause, switching my attention to her neck instead. ¡°Ethan¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I think I might shatter if she tells me to stop. I¡¯ll obey, of course, but damn how I hope she won¡¯t.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be a total repeat of the treehouse,¡± she says.


    I grip her waist like I need her to survive. At the moment, it¡¯s pretty damn close. I should respond, but she¡¯s soft and warm and so sweet against my lips. It¡¯s far easier to surrender than to converse.


    I force myself to form the words. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°This time, I can¡¯t be the only one nude.¡±


    The words barrel through me, and just like that, I¡¯m drowning in need. There¡¯s no resurfacing.


    I lift her up and head down the hallway to my bedroom. Thank God for someone-the interior decorator?-putting it on the ground floor.


    Be giggles. ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m taking you on our first adventure.¡± I push open the door to the master suite. ¡°Ta-da.¡±


    Sheughs again, but it¡¯s huskier this time, breathless and tinged with anticipation and desire. ¡°Unchartered territory,¡± she says.


    I set her down on the bed. She scoots back immediately and opens her arms, weing me on top of her. Forcing myself to go slow, I kiss down her neck, folding her dress up inch by inch, kissing her stomach and chest and teasing her nipples through the fabric.


    Be is the one to take off her bra. ¡°So impatient,¡± I murmur. Dimly, I wonder if I¡¯m really speaking to her at all, or to the painful ache in my jeans. The desire to bury myself inside of her feels all-consuming. I¡¯m like my kids with that movie-nothing else could get my attention now, not even ice cream.


    She reaches for my shirt and I pull it off. For a moment, she only looks at me, reaching out to run a hand tentatively over my bare chest. Her fingers rake through the hair on my chest.


    A brief sh of self-consciousness hits. I¡¯m not in my twenties anymore. I certainly stay in shape, but the days I had the time to maintain carefully sculpted abs are gone.


    But then Be arches her back and any thoughts of my own physique evaporate. There¡¯s no room for that, not when rosy, pink nipples beckon and firm, round tits. Fuck, I¡¯ve missed tits.


    I bury my face against her chest, using my mouth to kiss and suck. Beughs, but it turns into a gasp when I bite a nipple. ¡°Too rough?¡± I murmur.


    ¡°No.¡± The word is whispered. ¡°Do it again.¡±


    Smiling, I give her other nipple the same treatment. She arches up, her leg locking behind my hip. The movement brushes right over my hard-as-steel cock.


    That¡¯s it. I tug off her dress altogether and run my hands over the fair, silky skin on disy. I pause when I get to her cotton panties, unbearably sexy in their simplicity. ¡°Do you want me to slow down?¡± I ask.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Be¡¯s dark hair is spread around her on the pillow, a halo, a crown. ¡°I want you to speed up,¡± she murmurs.


    Iply.


    Ethan tugs my panties down my legs. A brief pang of shyness hits me as I¡¯m once again naked and he¡¯s not, syed out on the bed in front of him. It doesn¡¯tst, not as his gaze rakes over me. It drips with desire and deep primal admiration.


    How could I not want him when he looks at me like that?


    ¡°You¡¯re just going to look?¡± I ask, my voice breathless with anticipation.


    Strong hands settle on my knees, pushing them apart. ¡°Taunting me right now is dangerous.¡±


    I can¡¯t form a witty response to that, nor even a coherent one, because he settles between my legs and unleashes heaven. That¡¯s what it feels like.


    His mouth paints heat across my sensitive skin. I stare up at the ceiling and breathe through the pulsing need that sweeps through me with ever sweep of his tongue.


    His hands don¡¯t stop, either. They roam my body as he works, twisting, teasing, caressing. My muscles rx, one after one, surrendering to his skill.


    Only to lock up when his mouth settles on a sensitive spot. The touch feels like liquid fire.


    ¡°Right here?¡± he asks hoarsely, repeating with his finger.


    I nod like a maniac. Yes, yes, yes yes yes. Ethan grins between my legs and bends to his work. It¡¯s not long until I copse in on myself like an exploding star, my body arching upwards.


    But he¡¯s relentless, continuing on past the point of no return. Past the point where I would have stopped touching myself if this was a solo thing. I twist my hips, trying to get away, but he¡¯s merciless as he worries my sensitive skin.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± I mewl. If he continues, I¡¯ll rise and leap and fall again.


    He finally lets me go, rising up on his knees. The satisfied grin on his face takes the little breath I had remaining right away. Thick hair and wide shoulders and so much masculine vitality that it almost pains me to look at him.


    Breathtaking.


    ¡°Your turn to get undressed,¡± I say, nodding to his offensive jeans. ¡°Off.¡±


    ¡°If you insist.¡± He reaches for the zipper in his jeans and pulls them down. The length of him springs free and I can¡¯t tear my gaze away. Not even as he kicks off his jeans altogether, not as he gives his cock a slow stroke, not as he reaches for something in his bedside table.


    My throat feels dry.


    Other parts of me are¡­ not.


    Ethan rolls on a condom with expert precision, not the least bit bothered by me watching him.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± I murmur, not knowing if it¡¯s a plea or a question. Perhaps it¡¯s a prayer. He kneels by my legs and spreads them apart further, a hand on his cock as he lines himself up.


    Anticipation makes it hard to breathe.

 Billion Dollar Catch 29

    He pushes into me in one deep thrust. Inch after inch after inch fills me up. ¡°Fuck, Be¡­¡±


    Yes, I think in response. Fuck Be, and don¡¯t stop, not ever.


    It was never this gloriously uplicated with my ex. It¡¯s wrong topare, but it¡¯s not really even aparison, just knowledge. A certainty that sears through my brain. I won¡¯t be satisfied with anything less now. No awkwardness or shyness or overthinking.


    Just pure action.


    Ethan makes it simple. Faced with his want, there¡¯s nothing to do but to give in.


    His hips move in deep, rolling thrusts, reaching deep inside me. Once. Twice. Fourteen times. And all the while he¡¯s staring down at me like I hold all the secrets-like this is everything he¡¯s ever wanted.


    His gaze is the best thing I¡¯ve ever worn.


    ¡°Touch yourself,¡± he tells me, so I reach up and cup one of my breasts, flicking my nipple. ¡°Fuck yes, just like that.¡±


    I give him a show at the same time as he gives me one, moving in powerful thrusts above me. The look in his eyes makes me heady with power. So heady that I reach down and touch myself, there, even as he moves inside me.


    Ethan¡¯s green eyes burn even brighter. ¡°Come around me?¡±


    I don¡¯t know if I can. But as my finger circles, as he speeds up, as his hands dig into my thighs¡­ I¡¯m sensitive enough, pushed to the edge by his tongue before. And with him sliding in and out, stretching me apart¡­


    My second orgasm spreads through my body like a shot of pleasure straight to the vein. I keep my eyes on Ethan the whole time, muscled above me, on his five-o¡¯-clock shadow and burning intensity.


    He shatters right after me. A deep, rumbling groan and rapid, erratic thrusts. He¡¯s pushing hard enough into me that my inner thighs might bruise, but it only strengthens the orgasm zing through me.


    Like a tree falling, Ethan settles on top of me, damp forehead against my neck. I wrap my arms and legs around him and struggle to find my way back to steady breathing.


    ¡°Holy fuck,¡± he mumbles.


    A tired chuckle spreads through my chest, into him, and he raises his head to give me a zed look. What?


    ¡°It felt holy,¡± I supply, hugging him tighter.


    Ethan gives me a crooked smile. ¡°Best review I could ask for,¡± he says.


    ¡°I¡¯ll put in on Yelp?¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he says, easily breaking my stranglehold and guiding himself out, a hand on the base. He ties the condom off with a practiced flourish. ¡°That was beyond,¡± he says. ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ I haven¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while?¡±


    He stretches out next to me, lying on his back. ¡°Was it that obvious?¡±


    ¡°Only a little bit,¡± I say. The depth of his need feels ttering.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s it. No more brownies.¡±


    I raise myself up on an elbow. ¡°Why on earth did you think of that?¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way I can repay you for that. So no more baked goods. You¡¯ll just make the bnce even more uneven.¡±


    I reach out and smooth a hand through his hair, and his eyes close. ¡°You can repay me by doing that again, some time,¡± I say.


    ¡°Oh, I n to.¡± He puts arge hand on my thigh,forting and warm. ¡°When was yourst time?¡±


    ¡°A few months ago, with my ex.¡±


    ¡°The one you told me about? The moron?¡± Ethan sounds pleased at the thought, or perhaps the epitaph.


    But then his hand tenses on my thigh. ¡°You said he was the only rtionship you¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t strike me as someone who has one-night stands.¡± He turns his head to look at me. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me I was your second.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°All right what?¡±


    ¡°All right, I won¡¯t tell you that.¡±


    He groans, shifting onto his stomach and wrapping an arm around me. ¡°I was?¡±


    I bury my face into the bed. ¡°This is a greatforter,¡± I say finally. ¡°What¡¯s the thread count?¡±


    ¡°Be.¡±


    ¡°No, don¡¯t tell me. Five hundred? Has to be Egyptian cotton, too.¡±


    Ethan groans and I look at him. ¡°Why does it matter?¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a beat, so I scoot over and run my hand through his hair again. Surefire tactic, that. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Tell me anyway.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°It makes me feel worse. And awesome. And then worse again for feeling awesome.¡±


    ¡°Why on Earth would it make you feel bad?¡± Had I seemed inexperienced? Just because I¡¯d only had sex with one person didn¡¯t mean we hadn¡¯t done it many times.


    He looks over at me with eyes that seem older than he is. The same ones I sometimes saw when he spoke about his ex-wife or his kids. ¡°Like I¡¯m taking advantage,¡± he says.


    I move closer, until I¡¯m pressed against his side. ¡°And what am I? Helpless? A victim?¡±


    ¡°Never that.¡±


    I slide my leg in between his and let my fingers graze through his chest hair. The sheer manliness of him will probably never stop thrilling me. It¡¯s like every inch of him screams gic superiority, a neon billboard to women everywhere. I¡¯ll give you great babies.


    ¡°So? If you tell me one more time that you have nothing to offer me, I¡¯ll beat you,¡± I warn.

 Billion Dollar Catch 30

    He groans, but there¡¯s lightness to it-a hint of yfulness. So I reach down and run my fingers along the length of him, and it twitches to life at my touch. ¡°Besides, I know you have something to offer.¡±


    Ethan pulls me closer. ¡°Perhaps the only thing,¡± he says, bucking his hips into my grasp for added effect. He¡¯s growing harder by the second.


    ¡°And very eager,¡± I tease, tightening my grip. He hisses out a breath.


    ¡°And sensitive. And very, very keen on you.¡± He flips me over, lips on my neck as I continue to stroke him. He hardens in my hand.


    ¡°Ready again so soon?¡± I murmur, my breath speeding up as his lips find one of my nipples.


    ¡°I¡¯ve thought a lot about how I want to take you,¡± he says against my skin. ¡°No time to spare.¡±


    But despite that, the second time is slower-Ethan takes his time, shifting me into different positions, coaxing me through it, always with the same glowing desire in his eyes. I copse on his bed after we¡¯re done. Not for all the world could I move-not with the aftermath of that many orgasms coursing through my body.


    A thump upstairs.


    Ethan springs to life. One second he¡¯s sprawled with a leg over mine, the next he¡¯s standing, pulling on his clothes.


    ¡°Haven sometimes has nightmares. Evie sometimes wakes up. They mighte down here.¡±


    I grip theforter, pulling it up to cover me. Damn.


    Ethan pauses by the door to his bedroom, ncing back to me. ¡°Go check on them,¡± I tell him. ¡°I¡¯ll get dressed and slip out.¡±


    He frowns, clearly conflicted, but what I¡¯m saying makes sense. ¡°All right. I¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. We¡¯ll talkter.¡±


    Another nod, this time with a smile. ¡°Text me when you¡¯re back home safe,¡± he teases, slipping out and closing the door behind him.


    I snort, reaching for my clothes. The walk is what, fifteen feet? But when I finally make it back to my oversized mansion of a house, Toast meowing his displeasure at his evening meal beingte, I do just that.


    Be Simmons: I¡¯ve braved the streets of Greenwood Hills and made it home safely.


    Ethan Carter: Thanks for letting me know. I¡¯ve heard the gangs are notorious around here.


    Iugh quietly to myself, my body still tingly with residual pleasure.


    Be Simmons: Was everything okay upstairs?


    Ethan Carter: Yes. Haven had a nightmare and asked me to stay with her. I¡¯m texting from the chair in her room now.


    Be Simmons: Poor thing. Good thing you¡¯re there. Thanks for tonight.


    Ethan Carter: No, thank you. Sorry about how it ended.


    Be Simmons: No need to apologize. I¡¯ll sleep well now.


    Ethan Carter: Good. I know I most definitely will. Theing days are a bit busy, but I want to see you again.


    My heart does a little double take at that.


    Be Simmons: So do I. Let me know when it would suit you?


    Ethan Carter: Will do. Sleep well, Be. Dream of me.


    I put my phone down with a smile.


    I have no idea where this is heading. He¡¯s rified that he doesn¡¯t either, that he¡¯s busy, that he doesn¡¯t have the time for rtionships.


    And yet, I¡¯m pretty sure I will dream of him.


    ¡°Let me get this right,¡± Trina says. ¡°So not only did you not tell us that the two of you have be friends, you also didn¡¯t tell us that you kissed, even though it was days ago. You¡¯ve also now slept with him? And you¡¯re telling us two days after?¡±


    ¡°Inexcusable,¡± Wilma says. ¡°This is grounds for emunication.¡±


    Laughing, I arrange the ingredients I need on the giant kitchen ind. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure where it was heading, or if it was even heading anywhere at all. I couldn¡¯t jinx it!¡±


    A derisive snortes through the phone-Trina. After years of friendship, we¡¯ve perfected these three-way conference calls.


    ¡°Look,¡± Wilma says, and it¡¯s clear in her tone that she¡¯s not talking to me. ¡°You can be upset with Beter. For now, we have so many more important things to ask.¡±


    I groan. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I have to! How was it? Who initiated it? Do you want to sleep with him again? What does this mean? Are you two dating? How big was he?¡±


    ¡°Wilma!¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she demurs. ¡°I mean, was he well-endowed?¡±


    Laughing, I start measuring out the ingredients for chocte muffins. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± Trina says. ¡°What, did you do it in the dark?¡±


    ¡°No, no, I know the answer to that question, and I¡¯m not sharing it with you. I meant all the others. I have no idea what it means. He¡¯s made it very clear that he can¡¯t offer any kind of real rtionship.¡±


    ¡°Boo,¡± Wilma says.


    ¡°No, no, it makes sense. He has two kids,¡± I point out, scooping up a cup of flour.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Trina chimes in. ¡°And Be is far too young to be a stepmom.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    I frown down at the mixing bowl. Stepmom. The word¡­ wow. The idea hadn¡¯t urred to me. ¡°The girls have a mom,¡± I say.


    ¡°Yeah, but one who¡¯s not around. Come on, Be. Did you enjoy it? Do you like him? Tell us something at least.¡±


    ¡°I do like him,¡± I say. Probably too much. Definitely more than he likes me. ¡°And I did enjoy it. But I¡¯m trying very, very hard not to get my hopes up or get my emotions too involved.¡±


    ¡°Smart,¡± Trina notes. ¡°No repeat of this spring.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 31

    ¡°No, I can¡¯t have that,¡± I say. They¡¯d been by my side all through the hellish time, when my ex had said those disastrous four words. I¡¯ve met someone else. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s better or worse when there¡¯s no warning and no time to adjust. Trina and Wilma had been there throughout that emotional roller-coaster ride.


    ¡°But what has he actually said?¡± Wilma insists. ¡°Give us cold, hard facts.¡±


    I reach for the baking soda. ¡°Well, he¡¯s said several times that he can¡¯t offer me anything, that he doesn¡¯t have time to date. He¡¯s also mentioned that his divorce was a bad one, and he¡¯s not on good terms with his ex-wife.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s likely scarred by that,¡± Trina says. ¡°Perhaps unwilling to trust again. Focuses on his children and work instead of rtionships.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re his shield,¡± Wilma agrees. ¡°Perhaps he even thinks he can¡¯t keep a woman? That no one would want a man with two young kids and no time?¡±


    Trina hums in agreement. ¡°That must be it, too,¡± she says. ¡°Although the fact that a multi-millionaire mogul can get scared and self-conscious does not bode well for the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Wilma says. ¡°Be will just have to help him ovee his trust issues.¡±


    ¡°Hold on, hold on,¡± I demand. ¡°When did you two be therapists, huh? Where did all this psychoanalysise from?¡±


    ¡°Tell us we¡¯re wrong,¡± Trina challenges.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re wrong or right.¡± I frown at the bag of cocoa powder. ¡°But¡­ it would make sense if that was his motivation, yes. Of course, it doesn¡¯t have to be thatplicated. He could just not be interested in anything more with me.¡±


    ¡°Be,¡± Wilmains. ¡°Stop it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible!¡± I insist. ¡°And that would be okay, too. At this point, we have too few data points.¡±


    ¡°So go get some more,¡± Trina says. ¡°You haven¡¯t spoken for three days, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. He¡¯s been busy. And so have I, for that matter.¡± The words only burn a little on the way out. It¡¯s not technically a lie. I¡¯ve been making progress on my thesis and I¡¯ve been on one apartment tour.


    And I haven¡¯t been wondering why my phone had fallen silent after our brief goodnight text that evening.


    Not at all.


    ¡°Be¡­¡± Wilma says. ¡°Are you really okay with that?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°But my freak-out is really very minor. I know for a fact he enjoyed it. A lot, actually. And I know he¡¯s busy. So I¡¯ming up with a strategy.¡±


    ¡°I like the sound of this,¡± Trina says. ¡°New lingerie? Phone sex?¡±


    ¡°Show up to his office in nothing but a trench coat?¡± Wilma suggests.


    ¡°Chocte muffins.¡±


    Trina groans as the same time as Wilma exims, ¡°Yummy!¡±


    ¡°Your signature move,¡± Trina says. ¡°Bribing people with baked goods.¡±


    I startbining the dry ingredients, ncing at the oven. Almost at temperature. ¡°It worked on the two of you,¡± I point out. ¡°And so far it¡¯s worked splendidly on him.¡±


    ¡°Honey, I think he was always interested in more than just your cupcakes.¡±


    That tears augh out of me. ¡°You might be right about that.¡±


    ¡°But hey, why not? Gives you an excuse to go over there, right?¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I say. ¡°Baking with a purpose.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re devious,¡± Wilma says.


    ¡°And clever. But let us know how it went this time, okay?¡± Trina says. ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten that we were the ones who had to dare you to go over there.¡±


    ¡°And I haven¡¯t heard a thank-you yet!¡± Wilma chirps.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you, thank you, thank you. I¡¯m your eternal servant.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit much. Some cookies would be enough.¡±


    ¡°Noted.¡±


    ¡°Now scram,¡± Wilma says. ¡°And put on something cute when you go over there.¡±


    ¡°Something that makes the ¡®cupcakes¡¯ look good,¡± Trina says with augh.


    ¡°I¡¯ll send you a picture of the outfitter.¡±


    ¡°And an update!¡±


    ¡°And an update,¡± I agree. We click off, the giant kitchen falling silent once more. I smile the entire way through my baking. Trust Wilma and Trina to put things into perspective for me.


    And they were right. They had been the ones to dare me to go over there in the first ce. Toastes jumping onto the kitchen counter to inspect what I¡¯m doing.


    ¡°No,¡± I tell him, reaching over to pick him up. He looks at me grumpily, his mission thwarted. ¡°No cats allowed on the kitchen counters.¡± At least not while I¡¯m baking, but I don¡¯t add that. It¡¯s better to be consistent.


    He gives an annoyed meow. ¡°I know,¡± I say. ¡°But only a month and a half left now before your real humans get back. Excited?¡±


    Toast looks spectacrly unexcited and heads off to the living room. Yeah, well, I wasn¡¯t too excited about that either, or about the conversation I¡¯d still not had with Ethan. The one where I was not the Gardners¡¯ niece. Every day that passed would make it harder when I finally had to, which was annoying in and of itself, when it wasn¡¯t that big of a deal in the first ce.


    Tonight, I tell myself, putting the muffins into the oven. Tonight, I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll give him muffins and the truth.


    What man could resist that?


    That¡¯s not at all what happens.


    I ring the bell by Ethan¡¯s gate a bit after six p. m. He should be home, and they should just have finished dinner, in time for the girls to watch a bit of TV before heading off to bed. It¡¯s all a long string of shoulds.


    Maria isn¡¯t the one who answers. It¡¯s Ethan, his voice distant. ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Hi. It¡¯s Be. I made some extra muffins and wondered if the girls want any?¡±


    In the background, a little girl screams, ¡°Muffins!¡± I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s Evie or Haven.

 Billion Dollar Catch 32

    ¡°Come on in,¡± Ethan says. ¡°I¡¯ll leave the front door open for you. We¡¯re in the backyard.¡±


    I close the gate firmly behind me and head up the path, stepping into the empty hallway. The house is quiet-he must have unlocked the door with his phone. These Greenwood Hills houses and all their security protocols.


    ¡°Ethan?¡± I ask, walking through the living room. It¡¯s a mess of toys and games and a giant plush unicorn I haven¡¯t seen before.


    I find them outside, by the treehouse. The sight is enough to make me smile. Ethan, lifting Evie up. Haven, leaning out of the treehouse window.


    He¡¯s so unbearably attractive right then. Strong arms as he holds his daughter. Thick hair, pushed back from his face. Slightly tan skin. A man who exudes everything a woman might want: stability, strength,petence, humor¡­


    ¡°Be!¡± Evie calls. She wriggles out of Ethan¡¯s arms andes barreling toward me. ¡°I heard you have muffins!¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± I crouch down and open the container. ¡°Do you want one?¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ¡°Yeees.¡±


    I put the lid back on yfully as she reaches for one, and she giggles. ¡°Have you had dinner first?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯ve eaten,¡± she says. ¡°Chicken nuggets.¡±


    ¡°Chicken nuggets?¡± I nce past her to where Ethan is trying to coax Haven out of the tree. Maria must have the evening off.


    She manages to grab one of the muffins and darts back, her blonde ponytails swinging. ¡°Got it!¡±


    ¡°Yes you did. You have to tell me what you think, too. Do you like chocte?¡±


    ¡°I love it.¡±


    Behind her, a sudden wail rings out. Haven is lying on the ground by the treehouse, Ethan beside her. ¡°Haven? Honey?¡±


    Things move very quickly after that. He carries her inside, telling me that she might have broken her wrist, that we need to go to the hospital.


    ¡°What do you need me to do?¡± I ask. ¡°Do you want me toe? To stay here with Evie?¡±


    Ethan hovers by the kitchen ind, one hand on Haven¡¯s back as she cries into his shoulder. Evie stares at her father and crying sister with round eyes.


    ¡°Haven¡¯s upset,¡± she tells me quietly. I wrap my arm around her and she leans into the touch.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± Ethan says. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    The following minutes are an exercise in careful, diligent patience. Putting the shoes on Evie. Grabbing her toy elephant-he has toe too. Where are we going? The hospital. Is Haven going to die? What? No, absolutely not. She might just have a sprain. Okay. Can I have ice cream? No, not right now. But can I bring my muffin? Yes.


    By the time Ethan backs out of the driveway, the kids buckled in and their backpacks in my arms, I feel sweaty.


    Haven¡¯s crying has be softer now.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Ethan asks, looking at her through the rearview window.


    She shakes her head.


    ¡°Of course not, honey,¡± he says. Everything about him-from his voice to his hands on the steering wheel-radiates quiet confidence. ¡°But the pain won¡¯tst forever. And you might even get one of those cool casts, like your friend Kevin, remember?¡±


    Haven nods miserably. ¡°It was green,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I don¡¯t want a green cast.¡±


    ¡°You can have any color you want,¡± Ethan promises.


    From her car seat, Evie starts suggesting all the colors in the rainbow, much to Haven¡¯s distraction. By the time we arrive at the nearest clinic, she¡¯s settled on either a soft purple or a pastel pink. That¡¯s if she needs a cast at all.


    Ethan parks and we head into the private clinic, all four of us. The receptionist gives a short, professional nod as soon as Ethan says his name and pushes his card over the counter.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± she says, smiling down at Haven. ¡°We¡¯ll get you X-rayed and looked at right away.¡±


    Halfway down the corridor, Evie decides that a fake nter is more important, and I scoop her up in my arms, putting her on my hip. She immediately starts ying with my hair instead.


    ¡°Pretty,¡± she tells me, her voice far away. She¡¯s looking at the approaching doctor.


    Ethan turns to me. ¡°I think it might be best if Haven and I do this part alone. Is that okay?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be out here,¡± I tell him. ¡°Won¡¯t we, Evie? There¡¯s a yroom here.¡±


    His exhale is one of gratitude, and then he disappears into the treatment room with a miserable Haven.


    Evie and I stay upied, but it¡¯s hard not to let my mind wander to that room. Evie asking questions I can¡¯t answer doesn¡¯t help, either.


    ¡°Will Haven get a cast?¡± She grabs a few stic figurines, setting them down decisively on the table in front of me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Maybe. Where was Maria tonight?¡±


    ¡°In town.¡± She hands me a small, stic dog. ¡°This is you.¡±


    ¡°This is me?¡± I turn the dog over, a tiny Dalmatian. ¡°And who are you?¡±


    She holds up a little firefighter. ¡°Ah,¡± I say. ¡°Good choice.¡±


    We y for a little while, Eviepletely lost in the imaginary world. I¡¯m woof, woofing, when Ethan and Haven finallye down the hallway to join us.


    Her arm is in a cast, Ethan¡¯s hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°Look,¡± she tells us, holding up her arm.


    ¡°Purple!¡± Evie exims.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    Haven gives me a small nod. ¡°Okay, sort of.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s been given painkillers,¡± Ethan says, smoothing his hand over her hair. ¡°You don¡¯t hurt anymore, do you?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 33

    ¡°No. But I feel a bit weird.¡±


    ¡°Did it break?¡± Evie asks, inspecting her sister¡¯s arm.


    ¡°It¡¯s a fracture,¡± Ethan says. ¡°Which means it did break, but only a little.¡±


    Haven nods. ¡°And it will heal really, really fast.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it will. Come on, let¡¯s get home.¡±


    I grab Evie¡¯s backpack and reach for her hand. She takes mine without question, eyes still on her sister¡¯s cast.Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ¡°I want one,¡± she tells me.


    ¡°Maybe when you¡¯re older,¡± I say, which is a beyond stupid reply, but she seems to ept it as normal.


    Ethan and I walk out of the hospital, each of us hand-in-hand with a little girl. A smiling doctor stops us when we¡¯re almost by the door.


    ¡°This is for you,¡± he tells Haven, holding up a giant lollypop. ¡°For being so brave while we applied the cast.¡±


    She takes it with big eyes. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Of course. And for you, littledy¡­¡± The doctor hands Evie a smaller lollypop, forestalling any protests. ¡°There you go. You two take care of your mom and dad, now.¡±


    Oh, Christ.


    Do we correct that? I nce toward Ethan to see his response, but a small voice stops us.


    ¡°We will!¡± Evie chirps, already hard at work unwrapping her lollypop.


    Wow.


    Ethan shakes the doctor¡¯s hand. ¡°Thank you. We¡¯ll be back for the checkup.¡±


    The four of us get settled into the car, snapping buckles for car seats and seat belts. Adorably, Evie holds out her lollypop to me.


    ¡°Want to taste?¡±


    ¡°No, thank you,¡± I tell her. ¡°That¡¯s yours. Besides, candy isn¡¯t good for dogs, you know.¡±


    She blinks at me, and then bursts into delighted little giggles.


    ¡°Woof,¡± I say again, tightening the strap around her. ¡°Woof, woof.¡±


    From the driver¡¯s seat, I catch Ethan watching us with an inscrutable look on his face. He looks away as soon as everyone is locked in and we begin the short drive back to Greenwood.


    ¡°Do you want ice cream?¡± he asks Haven. ¡°You can have some when we get home. And you can choose any movie you want.¡±


    ¡°Any movie at all?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Haven¡¯s voice brightens a bit. ¡°We should tell Grandma, too. About my cast.¡±


    ¡°We can call her as soon as we get back to the house.¡±


    ¡°And Mommy?¡±


    The pause in Ethan¡¯s reply is slight, but it¡¯s there. I nce toward Evie-but no risk there. She¡¯spletely absorbed in demolishing her lollypop.


    ¡°We can call her too,¡± he says carefully. ¡°If you want, sweetie.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Maybeter.¡±


    Ethan pulls me aside as soon as we get back home, as Haven runs upstairs to get her favorite stuffed animal. ¡°Thank you,¡± he says, and there¡¯s so much emotion in his eyes that I can do nothing but bob my head. They shine with concern and gratitude and relief.


    ¡°Of course. What can I do now?¡±


    He nces from me to Evie, who is ambling around in the living room. ¡°Maria has the night off,¡± he says. ¡°That would be fine, but now¡­ I don¡¯t want to leave Haven for too long.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°Go be with her. I¡¯ll stay with Evie and dig through your freezer for ice cream.¡±


    His hand squeezes mine once. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I¡¯m a yawning mess when Evie is finally down for the night a long whileter. From the murmured conversation in Haven¡¯s room, she¡¯s not asleep yet, still shaken by the experience of today.


    I go downstairs and wash up the bowls, tiredness like a gray haze at the edge of my vision. I had no idea that taking care of children was like this-fun and amazing and absolutely exhausting. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve been vignt nonstop since I arrived. How does Ethan do it, day in and day out?


    But then I think of Evie¡¯s little hand in mine, and I understand.


    He joins me in the kitchen a whileter. The faint lines of his face look deeper, eyes weary.


    ¡°What a day,¡± I say softly.


    ¡°The worst.¡± He braces his hands against the kitchen ind. ¡°She wanted to climb thedder herself. She¡¯s done it a dozen times. Hell, she does more dangerous things than that on ygrounds.¡±


    ¡°It happens,¡± I say. ¡°Most kids break something, sometime.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I know. But I was right there, and when she slipped, I wasn¡¯t fast enough. I wasn¡¯t even looking.¡±


    ¡°You said it yourself, she¡¯s done it a dozen times.¡±


    ¡°At least she got the color she wanted on the cast,¡± he sighs. ¡°Small mercies, I suppose.¡±


    I put my hand on his. ¡°You did everything right.¡±


    ¡°I installed a death trap in my backyard,¡± he says, but his voice is somewhat lighter. Driven by impulse, by the darkness in his eyes, I reach over and wrap my arms around him.


    Ethan hesitates for only a moment before his arms settle around my waist. He bends his head atop mine and takes a deep breath.


    ¡°You did nothing wrong,¡± I mumble into his chest. The scent of him fills me, soap and man and him.

 Billion Dollar Catch 34

    ¡°You¡¯re too kind to me,¡± he says. ¡°It keeps tipping the scales. I can¡¯t possibly repay you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want repayment. And it¡¯s impossible to be too kind.¡±


    He leans back, tipping my head up. There¡¯s quiet determination in his gaze. ¡°No, it isn¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry I haven¡¯t called you since the other night.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re busy. I understand that.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve wanted to, though. Every night, I¡¯ve thought of your body against mine.¡±


    Oh God.


    Never before has a man spoken like this to me, and in Ethan¡¯s deep voice, with his hands on me¡­


    ¡°So have I,¡± I whisper. ¡°All the time.¡±


    He closes his eyes, a pained expression on his face. ¡°I don¡¯t think you know just how tempting you are to me.¡±


    I run my hands over his chest. ¡°I don¡¯t?¡± I murmur. ¡°I think you made that pretty clear the other night.¡±


    His hands make a deliberate path down my body to grip my ass. ¡°I n on making it clear again, and soon. I¡¯ve had a lot of time these past days to think about all the different ways I want you.¡±


    I tuck my head against his neck to hide my treacherous cheeks. Ethan must feel it though, because he gives a low snort and tugs me tighter against his body.


    ¡°Judging from the way you blush, I¡¯m guessing dirty talk wasn¡¯t a part of yourst rtionship?¡±


    ¡°Not usually.¡± Not at all, to be fair. Ryan had been pretty straightced, and after my first wild ideas were shot down, I stopped trying. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have.


    Heughs darkly. ¡°Fuck, there are so many things I want to try with you, Be. To ask you if you¡¯ve done before. To tell you.¡± He squeezes, emphasizing his words.


    I hold on to his shoulders and revel in the strong, hard nes of his body against mine. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to that,¡± I say. ¡°There are a few things I¡¯d like to try, as well.¡±


    His eyes burn on mine, ring with heady want. ¡°Damn it,¡± he says. ¡°Now all I can think of is fucking you. Right here, bent over the kitchen ind and moaning my name. And I can¡¯t have that.¡±


    My mouth is dry. Parched. Just like that, I want him too, aching for the vision he¡¯d just described-to feel his strength and fiery passion unleashed again.


    He closes his eyes. ¡°God, your face. You¡¯d want that too?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I wet my lips, testing out the words. ¡°I¡¯d want you to grip my arms from behind, too. I¡¯ve seen that somewhere and¡­ what?¡±


    Ethan is smiling, his small, crooked, private smile. ¡°Nothing,¡± he says. ¡°I can do that. I¡¯d like to do that. What else?¡±


    ¡°Grip my hair,¡± I murmur. ¡°I like that. And could you¡­ God, why is this so difficult? I¡¯ve never had this kind of openmunication about sex before. Just saying the words is a challenge.¡±


    Ethan kisses me again, lingering this time, his tongue gently coaxing mine. I¡¯m breathing hard by the time he pulls back. ¡°I want to hear it all,¡± he says. ¡°Everyst thing you want. No need to be embarrassed about it.¡± He rests his mouth against my ear, speaking in a voice that sends shivers down my spine. ¡°I¡¯vee several times in the shower these past days, and every time my hand is wrapped around my cock, I imagine it¡¯s your sweet pussy I¡¯m inside of.¡±


    Holy shit.


    My blush is a furious, scarlet thing, even as my body clenches at his words. Ethanughs. ¡°Was that far enough for you?¡±


    I swallow. ¡°Was it¡­ you have? That¡¯s true?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± he says. ¡°And every night I¡¯ve wanted to text you toe over.¡±


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°How could I? I only have forty-five minutes before my daughters might wake up with a nightmare; could you be in and out in that time frame? No. That¡¯s not fair to you or me.¡±


    My mind is still reeling from his earlier words. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯d mind,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly suffering in that arrangement, you know. I did like sleeping with you.¡±


    ¡°Thank God for that,¡± he says, but his eyes dart back toward the staircase, and I understand. It¡¯s not tonight, either. He needs to be with Haven-she might be asleep right now, but the painkillers will wear off soon enough.


    I rise up on my tiptoes and press my lips against his. I make it sweet and soft, kissing him the way I¡¯d want to if we were something, if this was a first kiss after a date.


    He kisses me back gently.


    ¡°Three things,¡± I say finally. ¡°Number one, I know you have limited time. Forty-five minutes of you is better than forty-five minutes without, so don¡¯t hesitate, okay?¡±


    I hold up a second finger. ¡°I¡¯ll head home now so you can be with your daughters. Does Maria have the morning off tomorrow, too?¡±


    He nods.


    ¡°Then the second thing is this-I cane over tomorrow and make breakfast. We could make a thing out of it, pancakes and waffles and fruit. A kid who¡¯s just fractured something deserves that.¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    Ethan exhales. It¡¯s a long, tired thing, but his eyes are filled with gratitude. ¡°You¡¯re too kind to me,¡± he says. ¡°Don¡¯t protest this time. It¡¯s true. I¡¯ll have to repay the Gardners somehow for having the good sense to leave for the summer, so I could get to know you instead.¡±


    My smile feels brittle. ¡°I¡¯ll be back tomorrow. Text me when the girls are up?¡±


    ¡°I will. What about your thesis?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the good thing about being a student,¡± I say. ¡°My time is flexible.¡±


    ¡°What was the third thing?¡±


    I force the words out. ¡°If you ever want to fuck me over a kitchen ind, mine is avable.¡±


    His eyes sh, and then he¡¯s kissing me again, a good long while before he finally lets me go. ¡°I¡¯ll take you up on that,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Sleep well, Be.¡±


    Guilt erupts inside me the second I close his gate behind me. With every kiss, every encounter, I feel myself slipping further and further into the lie. The time when it was just a tiny, inconsequential thing might have passed.


    Because now, having held his daughter¡¯s hand at the hospital, seeing the gratitude in his eyes¡­ I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s such an easy thing to shrug off anymore.


    ¡°Daddy flip!¡± Evie announces. ¡°Daddy can flip!¡±


    Be shoots me an amused nce under her sideswept bangs. It¡¯s challenging. Go ahead and try.


    She¡¯d showed up bright and early, a mix for pancakes in one hand and a bottle of maple syrup in the other, just as casually stunning as always. Rosy cheeks and hazel eyes.


    I give Evie a half-smile. ¡°You want to see?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 35

    Beside her, Haven is watching me with wide eyes. I know what she¡¯s thinking. She¡¯ll ask to try in a second.


    ¡°All right, then.¡± I grab therge fry pan and twist my wrist, flipping the pancake high up in the air. After doing an Olympic-worthy somersault, itnds back in the pan.


    Evie and Haven apud. So does Be,ughter in her eyes.


    ¡°Very impressive,¡± she tells me.


    ¡°Anything for thedies,¡± I say.


    ¡°Can I try?¡± Haven says, stepping forward. I push back her honey-brown hair.


    ¡°I think you¡¯d need both hands, sweetie. The pan is heavy.¡±


    She looks down at her cast and gives a dramatic, pained sigh. I know for a fact she¡¯s not in pain, though. I¡¯ve followed the doctor¡¯s dosage orders to the letter. Well, to the milligram.


    ¡°But you can set the table,¡± Be offers instead. ¡°I know you can do that one-handed.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Haven says. ¡°Can I use the fancy sses?¡±


    She¡¯s asking Be, who looks at me, her eyebrows raised.


    ¡°Yeah, go ahead,¡± I say. ¡°She means winesses,¡± I tell Be. ¡°She likes to drink her water and orange juice out of them.¡±


    Be¡¯s smile lights up her face. It¡¯s the kind of smile that a man can¡¯t do anything but stare at, wondering at his luck. A girl moves in next door who not only wants to sleep with me, but who somehow fit herself into this domestic narrative as well? It¡¯s enough to make my mind spin away in what-ifs and could-bes.


    ¡°How fancy,¡± she teases. ¡°Do you have them use linen napkins, too?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I deadpan. ¡°Evie¡¯s starting finishing school next year.¡±


    ¡°Finishing school, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Manners are really important in preschool. Who curtsies to who, you know.¡±


    She rolls her eyes to me, but the smile on her face remains in ce. Stupid jokes. Stupid feeling in my chest.


    The sound of my doorbell sounds throughout the house. Frowning, I head to the inte and press down answer.


    I¡¯m greeted by a familiar face.


    ¡°Mom?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Let me in,¡± she says, impatient as always. I do, and behind me, two little voices rise in happiness.


    ¡°Grandma¡¯s here!¡±


    They scamper off toward the front door, their feet echoing down the hallway. They¡¯re more than capable of opening the front door on their own.


    Be bites her lip, looking at me. ¡°Should I stay?¡± she asks.


    It¡¯s a split-second decision-whether or not to drag her deeper into my life, as if she wasn¡¯t already deep enough. The whole thing feels like it¡¯s spinning out of my grip.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Of course you should.¡±


    My mother walks into the kitchen with long strides. In herte sixties, she¡¯s still a force to be reckoned with, her permed hair like a helmet.


    ¡°Mom,¡± I say, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were nning on stopping by today.¡±


    Nor so early.


    ¡°You text me yesterday and tell me that my oldest granddaughter took a fall,¡± she says. ¡°There¡¯s no other ce I¡¯d be.¡±


    Haven clings to her leg, holding up her cast. ¡°Look, I chose purple.¡±


    ¡°Excellent color, dear,¡± Mom says. ¡°It¡¯s the color of ambition and nobility.¡±


    Christ.


    Haven beams at herment, though I¡¯d reckon she has no idea what either of those words mean.


    ¡°Mom,¡± I say, ¡°I¡¯d like you to meet Be. Be, this is my mother, Patricia.¡±


    My mother¡¯s hawk-like eyes focus in on Be. ¡°Delighted,¡± she says, shaking Be¡¯s hand. ¡°I¡¯m simply delighted.¡±


    ¡°So am I,¡± Be says. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Be is my neighbor for the summer,¡± I supply. ¡°She was here yesterday when Haven fell.¡±


    ¡°And now I¡¯m making pancakes,¡± Be adds, returning to the stove. ¡°Would you like some breakfast?¡±


    My mother settles down at the breakfast table. Haven grabs the seat next to her. ¡°I¡¯d love some,¡± she deres, ¡°as well as the story behind how you two met. But first, Ethan, you¡¯re teaching your children how to drink out of winesses? What are you thinking?¡±


    I stifle a groan. Trust your mother to be able to embarrass you in front of a girl, even when you¡¯re thirty-six and a father of two.


    This is going to be a challenging morning.


    My mother looks at the shut door long after Be¡¯s left. I shake my head at the discussion I know ising and lift Evie up out of her chair.


    ¡°Where did Be go?¡± she asks.


    ¡°She went home. She has work to do, you know.¡±


    ¡°Coming back?¡±


    ¡°Eventually, yes, I¡¯m sure she will. But probably not today.¡±


    Evie really only gets the yes part of that reply, smiling as she totters off toward the yroom that sometimes masquerades as my living room. ¡°Be¡¯s a doggy,¡± she murmurs to herself. ¡°Woof woof.¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    What in the world?

 Billion Dollar Catch 36

    ¡°So,¡± my mother says, sinking more meaning into the single word than many authors do in an entire novel.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°So,¡± I echo. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just go ahead and say what you want to say?¡±


    Mom¡¯s eyebrows rise. ¡°Honey, I don¡¯t know enough to say anything. What I have are questions.¡±


    Sweet mercy. ¡°I don¡¯t have an awful lot of answers for you.¡±


    She scoffs, like she knows that¡¯s not true, and wiggles a little on the barstool. ¡°Awfully ufortable, these,¡± shements. ¡°Why¡¯d you choose them?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t choose them.¡±


    ¡°Right. Lyra did.¡±


    Can I fire a distress signal? If I thought trying to exin Be and me to my mother was bad, discussing my ex-wife is arguably much worse.


    ¡°Where are you going with this?¡±


    Mom makes a tentative spin on the chair, holding on to the ind the entire time. ¡°So stupid,¡± she says. ¡°Right. Well, the girl next door seems really nice. She knows how to cook. Kind, too. And she looks at you like¡­ well, she likes you.¡±


    I close my eyes. So far, so good. ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is. So why don¡¯t you take her out on a proper date?¡±


    My eyes pop open again. ¡°You want me to date her?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been alone for too long. And I include the years you were married to that bitch in that.¡±


    ¡°Mom.¡± I nce back toward the living room, but the joyful sounds of Paw Patrol drown out our conversation. Haven and Evie aren¡¯t listening.


    ¡°It¡¯s the truth!¡± she protests, eyes as just as determined as mine. ¡°Let me take the darlings on Saturday and you go sweep her off her feet. You still remember how to, I hope?¡±


    I look up at the ceiling and count to five. It¡¯s mildly mortifying to get advice like this from one¡¯s own mother, but¡­


    ¡°I still remember,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She smiles and gets up, starting to clear the tes. ¡°Excellent. Saturday it is, then.¡±


    I nce back at the living room and what the hell, why not-I¡¯ll speak my fears. After all, my mother had raised two sons and done a great job.


    ¡°I worry, though¡­ I don¡¯t want them to get too attached. They¡¯re just now starting to get over Lyra¡¯s absence.¡±


    Mom¡¯s face darkens. ¡°A child never gets over that.¡±


    ¡°I know. You know what I mean, though. They don¡¯t ask for her that often anymore, they don¡¯t cry for her.¡±


    She gives a thoughtful nod, but her eyes are ripe with spection. I know the look. It means she¡¯s plotting something. ¡°It seems like they already like her.¡±


    ¡°They do.¡±


    ¡°Just make sure you go slow, and I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be fine. My grandchildren are strong. Besides, who said anything about marrying the girl?¡±


    ¡°Mom!¡±


    Her smile is wide, and she pats me on the arm as she walks past me to the living room. ¡°You¡¯ve lived for others for long enough, Ethan. Including your employees. This could be good. Stop worrying so much.¡±


    I stare after her, watching as she sinks down into the couch and Havenes up to nestle against her side.


    My hand fists at my side, hard, before I release it and let the tension drain away. A date would make things more serious. It would invite all kinds of potential trouble. But maybe my mother had a point-there was no need to think that far ahead, and Lyra had been years ago.


    It¡¯s time to try again.


    So I call Be that night, after the kids are asleep and my mother has left, lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling.


    She answers on the third signal. ¡°Ethan?¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°Is everything all right? How¡¯s Haven?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s doing great. She¡¯s actually starting to look forward to showing off her cast to her friends. We¡¯ve been discussing who might be jealous.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Be says. ¡°Looking ahead. I like it.¡± Then she sighs. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this morning. I¡¯m sure your mother had questions for you after I left.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to make things difficult for you.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t.¡± Quite the contrary, actually. ¡°She liked you.¡±


    A pause. ¡°She did?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Your pancakes received ster reviews.¡±


    Be chuckles. ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t tell her the mix came from a box.¡±


    ¡°Of course not. I¡¯m a gentleman.¡± I run a hand through my hair, surprised by how¡­ just happy her voice makes me. And she hasn¡¯t even been away for that long-what, twelve hours? ¡°I have a question,¡± I say. ¡°More like an order.¡±


    ¡°An order?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Clear your schedule on Saturday. I¡¯m picking you up and we¡¯re spending the day far away from Greenwood.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m being kidnapped?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. I can be charming when I try to be.¡±


    ¡°So you haven¡¯t even been trying?¡± she asks. ¡°Then I¡¯m in serious trouble.¡±


    Her words make meugh. ¡°Oh, you absolutely are. You haven¡¯t forgotten our conversation from the other night, have you?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 37

    ¡°About¡­ us?¡±


    Her hesitance to speak the words out loud makes me smile. Such a charming mixture of bravery and innocence, in a way. ¡°Yes, when I started to tell you about all the things I want to do to you. I want to hear your list on Saturday.¡±


    Am I imagining things, or is Be¡¯s voice breathless? ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re ready for my list.¡±


    Her teasing pushes me over the edge. ¡°Do your worst.¡±


    ¡°All right, I will. Underestimating me isn¡¯t a good tactic, you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±


    ¡°You should be,¡± she says. ¡°What are you doing now?¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°Lying on my bed.¡±


    ¡°Do you only ever call me from bed?¡±


    Oh, the temptation. ¡°It makes it very easy to imagine you¡¯re next to me.¡±


    Her voice drops. ¡°I see. Anything in particr you¡¯re imagining?¡±


    If she insists¡­


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re not wearing a lot of clothes in my imagination.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± is all she says, and then I hear footsteps on hardwood floors.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°To my bed,¡± she says.


    Are we doing this? Surely not. But¡­ damn if her breathlessness in my ear isn¡¯t hot as hell. Can I push it?


    A real gentleman wouldn¡¯t, but despite my joke, I know I¡¯m not one of those-and Be has told me she¡¯s okay with this. With us.


    ¡°I like the sound of that,¡± I say. ¡°What are you wearing outside of my imagination?¡±


    ¡°Pajama shorts and a T-shirt.¡±


    The image makes me smile, at the same time as my mind wanders. Her long, fair legs would be on disy. ¡°Nice,¡± I say. ¡°But I like you better without.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m taking the shirt off now¡­ no bra underneath.¡±


    ¡°Mmm, fuck. I can picture your tits.¡±


    ¡°I wish you were here,¡± she says. ¡°Doing what you did the other night.¡±


    I undo the zipper to my jeans and look over at my bedroom door. It¡¯s firmly shut and the girls are fast asleep upstairs. ¡°What did I do the other night?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Ethan.¡±


    ¡°I want to hear you say it.¡± I push down my boxers and close my hand around my rapidly hardening cock. It¡¯s so easy to see her in front of me, back arched and those beautiful rosy nipples ready for me.


    ¡°Sucked on my nipples,¡± she whispers. There¡¯s only brief hesitation in her voice, and damn if it doesn¡¯t make me grow harder.


    ¡°Yes, I did. Bit them, too.¡±


    ¡°I liked that,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°So did I. I want you to touch yourself now,¡± I tell her. ¡°Are you wearing panties?¡±


    ¡°Slide your hand in and touch your pussy for me.¡±


    A breathy moan. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Imagining her like this is the easiest thing in the world. On her bed, phone sped to her ear, her other hand working between her legs. ¡°I want you so much, Be.¡±


    ¡°I want you too.¡± Her voice has changed, now, deepened and darkened into something I can¡¯t turn away from. ¡°I¡¯m imagining your touch on my skin.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°You tell me,¡± she murmurs. ¡°It¡¯s your touch.¡±


    ¡°Your lips. Your neck. Your nipples. Your stomach. Your inner thighs. Your pussy.¡±


    A breathy sigh from Be-I imagine her running her hand down her body, just like that. ¡°So greedy.¡±


    ¡°For you? Hell yes.¡±


    ¡°Just hearing your voice is making me wet,¡± she murmurs. ¡°It¡¯s actually¡­ wow, I¡¯ve never done this before.¡±


    ¡°Getting dirty on the phone?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay. It¡¯s just me, baby. It¡¯s just us.¡± My cock slips easily through my hand now as I stroke. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you could say that wouldn¡¯t turn me on.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± she asks.


    ¡°What do you think I¡¯m doing?¡± I retort. ¡°I¡¯m so hard here for you, and you feel so good around me.¡±


    Her voice¡­ her breathy moans in my ear. It¡¯s enough to send need pounding through my spine, my legs, my cock.


    ¡°Slide a finger inside,¡± I tell her.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she whispers. ¡°I wish it was you. My finger isn¡¯t big enough.¡±


    ¡°Use two.¡±


    ¡°Still not big enough.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 38

    Fucking hell, at this pace I¡¯m going to explode before she does. I slow down my strokes and bend my knees slightly, my rhythm slowing.


    ¡°Tell me how you want me to fuck you,¡± I say.


    And she does, in faltering tones, growing stronger by the sentence. ¡°You¡¯re inside me¡­ oh, you feel so good, Ethan. So good.¡±


    I can see her beneath me, I can feel her around me, and damn if I can¡¯t almost taste her on my tongue. Be is in my ear, but she¡¯s everywhere, too.


    ¡°I¡¯m close,¡± I tell her. ¡°So close to finishing inside you.¡±


    ¡°Do it,¡± she breathes. ¡°I¡¯m close, too.¡±


    ¡°Same time?¡±


    ¡°Yes. God, I want you.¡±


    ¡°Want you too.¡± My hand speeds up, my cock slipping through my grip, and I¡¯m teetering on the edge. The sound of a long, single moan from her pushes me over. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s a more beautiful sound in the world than Be surrendering to her pleasure.


    I erupt across my stomach, my chest heaving.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± I tell her, when I¡¯m able to speak. ¡°I haven¡¯t had an orgasm that strong in¡­ well, since thest time we had sex. But on my own? Can¡¯t remember when.¡±


    Herughter is breathless and hot and shy, all at the same time. ¡°I¡¯m d to hear that.¡±


    ¡°How was yours?¡±


    ¡°Electric.¡±


    The single word bounces around in my head, even as I close my eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see it again in person,¡± I say.


    ¡°On Saturday?¡±


    ¡°On Saturday,¡± I echo. ¡°And Be?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re good at it. Talking dirty, I mean.¡±


    Her response is sweet. ¡°I have a good instructor.¡±


    ¡°Sleep tight, Be.¡±


    ¡°Good night, Ethan.¡± It¡¯s not long until I fall into a deep, sated sleep with her voice still murmuring through my mind. Knowing I should stay away, keep my walls up, and yet¡­ feeling more whole than I have in years.


    When the bell to my gate rings mid-Saturday, Ethan has already got his monster of a Jeep running. ¡°Come outside,¡± he calls through the inte. ¡°Let yourself get kidnapped for the day.¡±


    Laughing, I grab my bag and call goodbye to Toast. He doesn¡¯tment, lying on the bottom staircase and watching me through slitted eyes.


    ¡°Don¡¯t miss me too much,¡± I tell him.


    He turns his head away resolutely.


    I lock the door behind me, initiate the roughly five hundred security protocols through the surveince app on my phone-Fort Knox could learn a thing or two from this house-and hurry down the path to Ethan.


    He¡¯s grinning, eyes sweeping over my clothes. ¡°Good look,¡± he tells me.


    I nce down at my jeans and hiking shoes. The button-down I¡¯m wearing is somewhat form-fitting, but I¡¯m definitely dressed for a day outdoors.


    ¡°You told me to expect something woodsy.¡±


    ¡°That I did.¡± He¡¯s in dark jeans and a sweatshirt, and with his wide smile and tousled hair¡­ well, he looks like a million bucks. But then again, we can be naked and I¡¯ll probably still feel underdressed next to him-that¡¯s just the kind of man he is. ¡°Come on, Bells. Get in.¡±


    I jump into the passenger seat. It¡¯s not just an expression, either, as the car is genuinely so high that I need to jump. Seeing it, Ethanughs.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask. ¡°You¡¯re driving a monster.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re calling names, I can think of a few for your Honda.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t hate on the Honda,¡± I tell him. ¡°She has a proud history and I won¡¯t hear any ageist ims against her.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s smile widens as he puts the car in drive. ¡°You won¡¯t hear another word from me-¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ¡°-if you promise to keep up today.¡±


    ¡°Keep up? We¡¯re hiking, right?¡±


    He nods. ¡°I have absolutely no idea if you¡¯re someone who likes that, so I¡¯m taking a wild gamble here.¡±


    I grin. ¡°What would you do if I said I hate trees? And walking?¡±


    He pretends to deliberate for a moment before shaking his head. ¡°This is when having a n B would havee in handy.¡±


    ¡°Good thing you don¡¯t need one.¡± I push my seat back and make myselffortable. ¡°I love the outdoors.¡±


    ¡°Thank God.¡± He pretends to wipe sweat off his forehead. ¡°We¡¯re not going anywhere challenging, though.¡±


    ¡°Think I can¡¯t handle it?¡±


    He reaches over to rest a hand on my thigh, the other on the steering wheel. ¡°Be,¡± he tells me, ¡°I¡¯m learning that underestimating you is a bad tactic.¡±


    It gives me a ridiculous thrill to put my hand on top of his. Today is beautifully undefined-I don¡¯t know if this is a date, the start of something real, or just the two of us spending time together as friends. But I¡¯m going to enjoy the heck out of it regardless.


    Ethan sets course to Mount Rainier National Park. The long drive isn¡¯t at all unpleasant, either; there¡¯s always something to talk about or just calm silence in the car. It feels mature, somehow, the casualfort between us.


    The first major parking lot we drive past inside the national park is almost empty, but Ethan just keeps driving.


    ¡°I know just the spot,¡± he says, turning onto a gravel road. As we begin to climb, the drop to my right deepens, trees dwindling in the distance.


    ¡°All right, I give. I¡¯m happy you¡¯re driving a monstrosity.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 39

    Ethan chuckles. ¡°Four-wheel drive is a beautiful thing.¡±


    We park on a teau, right next to an old, abandoned groundskeepers lodge. Nestled into a natural grove of trees, it¡¯s all but hidden from the valley below. It¡¯s a beautiful summer day, the sun peeking out behind clouds.


    ¡°We¡¯ll start here,¡± Ethan says, pulling out water bottles for us both. The scent of pine and dew is heavy in the air, and for a moment I just close my eyes and take a deep, filling breath.


    I open my eyes to find Ethan looking at me. I smile at him. ¡°This is your form of escape, right? Away from work and responsibilities?¡±


    He gives a slow nod. ¡°Always has been.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for showing it to me,¡± I tell him.


    He runs a hand over the back of his neck, but he¡¯s smiling. ¡°Come on,¡± he tells me. ¡°I want to show you this view.¡±


    The trail he¡¯s chosen for us isn¡¯t too hard. It loops up to a viewpoint, the stunning greens of the national park spreading out in front of us like an unbelievably idyllic desktop picture on aputer. The mountain itself crowns the picture in the far distance,plete with a snow-capped peak. It¡¯s beyond gorgeous.


    I sink down onto a log and take a deep sip from my water bottle. ¡°We didn¡¯t see anyone else on this track,¡± Iment. ¡°Howe this ce isn¡¯t packed?¡±


    Ethan¡¯s smile is crooked. ¡°Technically speaking, it¡¯s not an official track.¡±


    ¡°Technically?¡±


    ¡°It used to be, but they¡¯ve closed it.¡± He reaches around for his backpack and opens it with a swift tug. He pulls out a packet for us both containing a delicious-looking sandwich.


    ¡°Courtesy of Maria,¡± he says.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to tell her thanks. This looks amazing.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s worth her weight in gold,¡± he agrees, sitting down next to me.


    I take a bite and savor the taste, the fresh air, the beautiful view and the sunshine. It¡¯s a gorgeous ce, and perhaps¡­ perhaps this would be the time to tell him about that little lie, the one I¡¯d somehow fallen into telling over and over again.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± I begin, but I lose my nerve the second he turns to look at me. It¡¯s too beautiful a ce to sully. ¡°Isn¡¯t this kind of a simple pleasure for a man like you? The newspapers all want Greenwood Hills residents to be sports-car-owning jet-setters.¡±


    He cocks an eyebrow. ¡°Perhaps I would have been, if I didn¡¯t have children and responsibilities. Like your aunt and uncle, traveling all summer.¡±


    I take a big bite from my sandwich and nod, feeling awful.


    ¡°But I¡¯ve always enjoyed the outdoors, even as a kid. My brother and I grew up by the coast and we were constantly in the water. Besides¡­¡± He looks over at me, the furrow in his brow back. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if we wanted to go somewhere with people.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be recognized?¡±


    ¡°I could be. It¡¯s not supermon, but it happens, yeah. I¡¯m sometimes photographed too.¡±


    And I¡¯d be by his side when that happened, which would take our¡­ whatever this is into something far more. ¡°Makes perfect sense,¡± I say.


    His shoulders rx. ¡°I figured neither of us wanted that.¡±


    ¡°No, not at all.¡± I could think of little worse, to be honest, than public scrutiny of what was still so undecided. Ethan finishes his sandwich and reaches out to put his arm around my shoulders. I lean into his side, feeling ny percent amazing and ten percent like a fraud.


    ¡°I¡¯ll remember this tomorrow,¡± he says.


    I can¡¯t help needling him. ¡°I should hope so,¡± I tease. ¡°Or do you usually suffer from memory loss?¡±


    ¡°No, youedian,¡± he says. ¡°And perhaps I shouldn¡¯t bring it up, but¡­ what the hell. My ex-wife is nning oning over tomorrow.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°She¡¯s the queen of changing nsst minute, so it¡¯s not set in stone. But I¡¯ve tried to prepare the girls for it.¡±


    I swallow. ¡°Where does she usually live?¡±


    ¡°No idea. Last I heard, down in Pornd, but she travels a lot. She¡¯s a proud member of the sports-car-owning jet-setting club you mentioned earlier.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    He sighs again. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have brought it up.¡±


    ¡°No, of course you should¡¯ve. I¡¯m always here to listen if you need to talk.¡±


    He squeezes my shoulder. ¡°Too kind.¡±


    I pull back and look at him, wiggling my eyebrows. ¡°How do you know it¡¯s kindness, huh? Perhaps I have ulterior motives.¡±


    ¡°Right. And what would they be?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t possibly tell you, of course. But theoretically, hypothetically, it might involve you, and me, and a bed¡­¡±


    A smile breaks across his face. ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have to be kind to me to achieve that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d sleep with just anyone, would you?¡±


    ¡°If that anyone were you, yeah.¡± He presses a kiss to my cheek, trailing down to my neck. ¡°So be rude all you like. You won¡¯t scare me away.¡±


    ¡°What a relief!¡± I trail my hand through his hair. ¡°I can finally drop this good-girl act.¡±


    He snorts again, pressing his lips to mine. ¡°Sorry, Be,¡± he says when he¡¯s finished kissing me, ¡°but it¡¯s fairly obvious that it¡¯s not an act.¡±


    ¡°Shoot.¡± I¡¯m breathless from his lips. ¡°You know my secret now, then.¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯re good through and through? Yeah, I¡¯m fairly certain of that.¡± He pulls me into standing. ¡°Let¡¯s head back down to the car before we do something we shouldn¡¯t on this trail.¡±


    We talk about everything and nothing on the drive back, and I discover small, banal things about him. That he only drinks his coffee ck and that he hates carrots. His first kiss was at twelve, and it was with the neighbor girl-he winks at me when he says this and tells me it¡¯s clearly a pattern-but his brotherter confessed to having a crush on her. Itplicated things for about a week.


    I discover big things, too. He believes that his daughters saved him, in a way, from bing one of those people who dedicate their lives to work, and that he¡¯s grateful to them for that.


    He asks me things too. About my brother and my parents, about my education, about where I¡¯ve travelled. And I tell him things about my family and my studies and my dreams. I only speak this freely around Wilma and Trina, but in the car with him¡­ well, the casualfort is back.


    We¡¯re almost in Greenwood by the time Ethan looks over at me with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Sooo,¡± he says, drawing out the vowel.


    ¡°So,¡± I echo, twisting around to look at him. His thick hair is pushed back and an easy, charming smile is in ce.

 Billion Dollar Catch 40

    ¡°Speaking of that list of yours¡­¡±


    ¡°We weren¡¯t speaking of anything remotely rted to that.¡±


    He reaches out and puts a hand on my knee again. ¡°Everything is remotely rted to that.¡±


    I look down at his hand, at the long fingers and broad knuckles. ¡°All right. How about I don¡¯t tell you the list as much as I show it to you?¡±


    His grip tightens on my knee. ¡°I¡¯d be amenable to that.¡±


    ¡°Amenable?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡± He nces over at me again, and this time there¡¯s no mistaking the heat in his gaze. ¡°I have about an hour until I¡¯ve promised the girls I¡¯d be home.¡±


    I trace his fingers, one at a time. ¡°Spend that hour at mine?¡±


    ¡°Excellent idea.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been known to have good ones every now and then.¡± Excitement, anticipation, nerves¡­ they all rise up inside me. This is so far out of myfort zone-the seduction, the exploration. Surely he must have been with women his own age, with far more experience and talent.


    But here he is with me.


    Ethan wraps his arms around me as soon as the front door closes behind us. Toast is nowhere to seen, but then it¡¯s always a coin toss to see if he¡¯ll wee me home or not.


    ¡°Who knew I¡¯d be visiting my neighbor¡¯s house so often this summer?¡± he whispers in my ear, walking me backwards.


    I wrap my arms around his neck. ¡°Who knew I¡¯d be visiting my neighbor¡¯s house so often?¡±


    Ethan kisses me deep and slow, his hands moving at the same time, deliciously big and skilled over my body. ¡°Your neighbor is very pleased about the whole thing,¡± he says, pulling my hips against his for added emphasis.


    ¡°So is this neighbor,¡± I murmur against his lips. ¡°So pleased that she would probably not report you to the homeowners association if you yed loud music.¡±


    Ethan leans back. ¡°Wow, she must be very pleased.¡±


    ¡°Very,¡± I agree. ¡°But she wouldn¡¯t be against more pleasing.¡±


    His darkughter washes over me, and then he¡¯s gripping my thighs and lifting me up against his body. There¡¯s such casual strength in the movement. ¡°I remember mention of a kitchen ind,¡± he says.


    My throat goes dry. ¡°I did mention that.¡±


    Ethan walks us into the kitchen, setting me down on the cool marble. His hands make quick work down the buttons of my shirt.


    ¡°I remember mention of arm-gripping and hair-tugging, which I can do,¡± he says, bending to kiss my neck. ¡°What else? Time for you to practice telling me.¡±


    I¡¯m about to, but forming words is difficult when his lips are approaching my bra. He pushes the cups down with no preamble, no warmup, his lips closing around one of my nipples. I gasp at the sensation-so sensitive, and he knows it.


    Ethan grins, switching to my other breast. He uses his teeth this time, his hands already undoing the button of my jeans. ¡°Come on. There must be more than that.¡±


    I lift my hips so he can slide them off me. ¡°Well, you certainly weren¡¯t dressed in my kitchen ind fantasy.¡±


    Grinning, he reaches down and tugs off his shirt. The expanse of wide, muscled chest and a smattering of hair greets me. I look at him, wanting him on top of me, against me, holding me. Anything to feel that chest.


    His smile turns crooked. ¡°That impressive, huh?¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡± Perhaps he¡¯s joking, but I¡¯m certainly not. I reach for his pants, but he pushes my hand away.


    ¡°Not fair,¡± I say.


    ¡°Patience, Be¡­¡± He pushes me back on the counter and spreads my legs easily. His arm curls around my thighs, holding me in ce. I¡¯m locked to this moment-to him and to us. His right hand tugs my panties to the side.


    I don¡¯t protest. Not when he puts his mouth on me, his tongue, his lips. No, I stare unseeing up at the beautifully iid spotlights in the ceiling and struggle to contain my breathing.


    It¡¯s almost embarrassing how much I¡¯m enjoying this. How good he is-how easy this is with him. There¡¯s barely any thought at all, justplete surrender, and perhaps it¡¯s because of his enthusiasm. He handles me like he likes it-like he loves it-and it¡¯s so easy to let go.This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    And when my orgasm finally barrels through me, he¡¯s there, holding me and watching me through lidded eyes. Telling me in a rough voice how much I turn him on.


    How much he needs me.


    So it¡¯s not difficult at all to slide off the counter and turn around, my arms braced against the cold marble. And God help me, but I even wiggle my ass a bit.


    What¡¯s gotten into me? Not Ethan, at least-not yet, and all I can think about is changing that fact.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he growls, pping down on one of my cheeks. It stings, but only for a moment. ¡°You¡¯re so damn beautiful, it¡¯s unreal.¡±


    ¡°Again,¡± I say.


    ¡°This was on your list?¡±


    I open my mouth to reply but all that escapes is a yelp as his handes down again, this time on my other cheek.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± he says.


    ¡°Yes.¡± It had been buried deep, but it had undeniably been there. My ex had never been interested in trying this-nothing remotely resembling rough.


    Ethan tugs my panties down, leaving them halfway on my thighs. My entire body trembles in anticipation, in wait, and then¡­ sting. Another p.


    ¡°Your skin is gorgeous,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve thought that from the first time I saw you.¡±


    ¡°Peeping from your tree?¡± I tease, and gasp as another p reverberates through me. He¡¯s not using a lot of force, not at all proportional to the heat rushing through me. But rushing it is, and I arch my back, aching for him.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t spying. But if I was, you were exactly the sight I would have chosen. You¡¯re so fucking hot, Be, and I¡¯ll keep saying it until you believe me.¡±


    He undoes the sp of my bra, having a better angle at it than me. I throw it to the side and look back at him.


    He¡¯s gazing in spection. ¡°Spanking, huh?¡± he drawls. ¡°Interesting. I wonder¡­¡±


    He runs his hand between my legs, one finger sinking deliciously deep. ¡°Fuck, you¡¯re wet.¡±


    I rest my forehead against the cold marble and focus on breathing. Exposed like this¡­ somehow it only makes me more aroused. Knowing he¡¯s watching and enjoying me. Hearing him say the words.

 Billion Dollar Catch 41

    A zipper is undone. Then he pulls the hardness over my ass, between my legs, teasing me again.


    ¡°What do you want me to do now?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Fuck me.¡±


    ¡°What? I didn¡¯t quite hear you.¡±


    ¡°I want you to fuck me. Right here.¡± I force thest word out before I lose my nerve. ¡°Hard.¡±


    Ethan groans. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever tire of hearing words like thate out of your mouth.¡±


    I look back at him. ¡°I said now.¡±


    Grinning, he nces down, his hand moving¡­ but he doesn¡¯t push in. ¡°Fucking hell. Be, I didn¡¯t bring a condom.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m on the pill,¡± I say, arching a bit higher. I¡¯m practically panting with need. Will he just enter me already? I need him.


    ¡°And you¡¯re good at taking it? Regrly and all?¡±


    ¡°Yes, every morning.¡± It¡¯s as ingrained a habit as breathing, almost-I¡¯ve done it for years and years.


    Ethan seems to consider. But I wiggle my ass again, spreading my legs wider¡­


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he says, decision made, and positions himself. We both groan as he pushes into me, inch after inch, deliciously deep.


    I¡¯ll never tire of this.


    Ethan reaches for my arms and tugs them back, my chest rising from the cold marble. He thrusts deep and hard, exactly what I¡¯d asked him for.


    It¡¯s amazing.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± he breathes. ¡°Right there. Good girl, Be, right there¡­¡±


    I¡¯m barely able to reply, busy as I am focusing on my breathing, on the pleasure growing inside me again. Something about this, about Ethan so unleashed and me bent over like this, has me on hair-trigger. And perhaps I won¡¯t always want it like this, but right now it¡¯s the only thing I want.


    His hand ps down again. ¡°Your pussy is fucking unreal around me.¡±


    My concentration shatters with his words. It¡¯s impossible to stop my pleasure from cresting, and when he switches a hand from my arm to my hair, giving it a light tug¡­


    My body explodes again. I¡¯m dimly aware of Ethan cursing, of his hips thrusting erratically, of the pulsing deep inside me as he finishes.


    And then we¡¯re both panting hard, bodies still intertwined.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± I murmur. My legs feel shaky. So do my arms, to be fair. My entire body is jelly.


    ¡°You could say that again.¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ¡°Oh my God.¡±


    Laughing weakly, Ethan pulls out, turning me around and pulling me against his body. My panties are still around my knees.


    ¡°Not too rough?¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°No.¡± I lean my head against his chest and breathe in the deep, male scent of him. ¡°That was perfect.¡±


    A hand strokes over my hair. ¡°It was. It was also intense as hell.¡±


    I nod. It¡¯s hard to form thoughts.


    Perhaps Ethan senses that, because he smiles and bends down to tug my panties back into ce. ¡°Come on,¡± he tells me. ¡°Show me to your room.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have to go?¡±


    ¡°Not quite yet.¡± He supports my weight, and once we¡¯ve made it to my bedroom, I almost feel like a person again. A newly fucked person, true, but someone who can remember the alphabet and basic arithmetic. Calculus is probably still beyond me.


    Ethan stretches out on the bed beside me and wraps an arm around my waist. I turn into him and take another deep breath again. Funny, how he smells this good.


    I think I tell him that because heughs. ¡°Never been told that before,¡± he murmurs. ¡°So do you. Especially right now.¡±


    Closeness and pleasure and him are everywhere, filling my head and my chest. Perhaps that¡¯s why the sudden spear of guilt is so intense, piercing through my haze of delirious calm.


    I have to tell him.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± I say, looking up at the edge of his jaw. It¡¯ll be easier to meet than his eyes. ¡°I need to tell you something. About me staying here. There¡¯s only about a month and a half left, and when I-¡±


    Ethan¡¯s arms flex around me. ¡°Be, please don¡¯t, don¡¯t say anything at all. Just be here with me until I have to leave. Let¡¯s just be us, with no thoughts of the future.¡±


    I swallow my words. They go down painfully, their edges sharp. ¡°All right,¡± I murmur, nestling closer against him, holding on while I still can.


    I¡¯m shocked the next day when Lyra doesn¡¯t show up like she said she would. Absolutely amazed-never in a hundred years had I predicted this. She¡¯s usually the paragon of dependability.


    But I can¡¯t tell my kids that, and not just because they don¡¯t yet grasp sarcasm.


    Haven tugs on my pant leg. ¡°So she¡¯ll be here tomorrow instead?¡±


    ¡°Yes, honey, that¡¯s what she said.¡± On the phone-after I¡¯d given her my piece. She¡¯dughed, of course, and said that the ways of air travel were beyond her. I don¡¯t control storms, darling.


    ¡°And Be? Will she be here too?¡±


    I frown at Haven. ¡°No, she¡¯ll be in her house. Maybe she cane over for dinner afterwards, though.¡±


    Under no circumstances did I want Be and Lyra to meet. It was just one of those things, like Evie¡¯s idea about putting ketchup on ice cream. You could do it, but what was the point? No good woulde of it.


    Haven crosses her uninjured arm over her chest. ¡°So tomorrow, then.¡±


    The tone of her voice isn¡¯t entirely happy, either. There¡¯s something else in it-skepticism. It tears at my heart to see her develop that feeling so early on, and especially against her mother.


    A part of me longs to reassure her. Mommy loves you and she¡¯ll be here as soon as she can.

 Billion Dollar Catch 42

    But I can¡¯t bear to lie to my kid, not when it would just raise her expectations again. So I lift Haven up instead, careful not to jostle her arm. ¡°How about we y in the treehouse instead? You can show me the new game you and Evie invented.¡±


    She nods, mollified, but the lure of y doesn¡¯t entirely soften my own irritation. Who knows if Lyra will even show up tomorrow? And if she doesn¡¯t, what will I tell my girls then?


    But when the next day rolls around, a ck cab does indeed stop outside of my house around midday. I watch with bated breath from the window in my study.


    Is it¡­?


    It is. Lyra gets out, a navy dress wrapped snug around her tall, curvy form. Her light-brown hair falls around a face that is just as immactely done up as I remember. She hasn¡¯t stopped wearing her beauty as armor, it seems.


    Sighing, I shut the door to my office and head down to the living room. Maria looks up when I enter, the girls ying quietly behind her. They never y quietly-another way this impending visit is impacting them.


    ¡°She¡¯s here?¡± Maria asks. There¡¯s a furrow in her brow that doesn¡¯t surprise me at all. She¡¯s heard the girls ask for their mom just as often as I have.


    I nod. ¡°All right, girls. Mom is here!¡±


    Evie cheers, racing toward the front door. Haven follows more cautiously, holding her cast close to her chest.


    I put a hand on the back of her head. ¡°You okay, kiddo?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± A pause. ¡°Do you think she¡¯ll like the purple?¡±


    ¡°I think she¡¯ll love it,¡± I say. ¡°Besides, you love it, which is all that really matters.¡±


    Haven nods once, her small face determined. She shouldn¡¯t have to wonder about her mother, but here we are, and damn if I know how to get them out of it without causing more pain.


    Evie pushes the front door open and Lyraes sweeping into the house on a pair of heels and a wind of righteousness, crouching in the hallway to hug both girls.


    ¡°Oh, my darlings,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you both so much.¡±


    I cross my arms over my chest and try to stop my teeth from grinding one another into dust. I¡¯m not entirely sessful.


    ¡°Haven, my love, does your arm hurt terribly?¡±


    Haven shakes her head. ¡°It only hurt when I fell, and for a day afterwards.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you were very brave. Did Dad take you to the hospital?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and Be.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s our friend,¡± Evie announces. ¡°She bakes.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s nice.¡±


    Evie tugs on her mother¡¯s hand. ¡°Come on, I wanna show you my room!¡±


    ¡°Has anything changed?¡±


    ¡°I have a new bed!¡±


    I follow at a distance, listening to the kids chatter to Lyra about all the changes that have happened since they saw herst. For Evie, Lyra is practically a stranger, one who shows up every now and then but whom she doesn¡¯t really miss. Haven¡¯s the one with the memories, with friends who ask her questions about her parents.


    Lyra stays for lunch. Maria serves it without a word of hello to my ex-wife, and Lyra doesn¡¯t say thank you. Is the dislike mutual? Why had I been so blind before?


    ¡°I brought you gifts, things I¡¯ve found when I¡¯ve been traveling,¡± she says, pulling out things from her bag. ¡°This one¡¯s for you, Haven.¡± She pushes something that looks suspiciously like a makeup palette across the table. ¡°To y around with and experiment.¡±


    Haven inspects it immediately.


    ¡°Lyra,¡± I say quietly, ¡°is that makeup?¡±


    She turns to me, warmth disappearing from her eyes. ¡°Yes, Ethan, it is. It¡¯s just for fun.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s six.¡± I look over at Haven, who has turned the palette over to fiddle with the sticker on the back. Good thing she isn¡¯t getting too attached-that thing will go in the trash the second Lyra¡¯s left.


    Lyra ignores me, pulling out an electronic tablet for Evie instead. ¡°This one has a ton of games on it, honey.¡±


    Evie shrieks and begins to press at the screen, her sister joining her. My face must have shown the dismay I feel-not only do they already have tablets, but I keep them on very limited screen time. These gifts are extravagant and thoughtless.


    Is this what the future will be like? Lyra dancing in to town to give them expensive purses and clothes before dancing right back out of their lives again.


    She notices my displeasure, because she brings it up the second we¡¯re out of earshot of the kids.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so prim, Ethan. They¡¯re just kids.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not just kids, they¡¯re my kids.¡± I cross my arms over my chest and look over at the girls. Maria meets my gaze and begins to coax the girls to go outside and y. They disappear a few momentster.


    Lyra watches them go. ¡°I miss them when I¡¯m away,¡± she says softly. ¡°It¡¯s made me think¡­¡±


    Not this.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not entirely happy with the custody agreement,¡± she says.


    ¡°You agreed to it,¡± I say, gritting my teeth. Our positions had been crystal-clear in the divorce negotiations. Lyra wanted my money. I wanted my kids. She¡¯d even called me the perfect catch-that¡¯s what she¡¯d seen when we first met.


    So when herwyer had written out the number, the amount she wanted in order to surrender her custody ims¡­


    Easiest deal I¡¯d ever signed.


    Lyra runs her hand through her hair, flicking it back. It feels disgusting now to think that the calcted move had once enchanted me. ¡°Oh, I remember. But deals can be renegotiated.¡±


    ¡°Not this one.¡±


    Her hand curls around my arm. ¡°So determined, Ethan.¡±


    ¡°You can visit any time, but you don¡¯t, so I can¡¯t possibly fathom what you¡¯d want with custody,¡± I say. It¡¯s easy to guess what her lifestyle is like now, too. International travel. Parties. A fast life, the one she¡¯d lived when I met her and the one she¡¯d always wanted to escape back into.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯m not a fan of your attitude,¡± she tells me. ¡°You used to be fun. I remember a night in Cabo, many years ago, when-¡±This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going down memoryne with you.¡± I shake off her hand. ¡°Come on. The girls said they wanted to show you their treehouse.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 43

    ¡°All right.¡± She trails after me as I open the door to the patio. ¡°Do you spend all your time with children, Ethan? That can¡¯t be healthy for you. I mean, raising kids isn¡¯t exactly a science.¡±


    I¡¯ve never been an angry man, nor a violent one. Never had the inclination, but now¡­ Lyra can bring it out so easily with dismissivements like that about our children.


    ¡°Mommy! Look at our treehouse!¡± Haven calls, and Lyra dutifully heads across thewn, pausing momentarily in dismay as her high heels sink into the grass.


    It feels like an eternityter when it¡¯s finally time for her to leave. The girls ask her when she¡¯ll be back, to which she says as soon as I can, a tant lie. It could be tomorrow or six months from now, knowing how Lyra is. It might make me a horrible person, but I almost wish it was ten years. A chance for the girls to grow up without having their hopes crushed over and over again.


    ¡°I¡¯ll follow you to your car,¡± I murmur.


    Lyra frowns. She hasn¡¯t called her cab yet-waiting curbside won¡¯t appeal to her. But I open the front door and motion her out. Maria closes it behind me with soft murmurs to the girls.


    ¡°Another lecture?¡± Lyra asks.


    I shut the gate behind us. ¡°No, just a reminder. You¡¯re their mother. Visit whenever, but give us enough time to prepare in advance and most of all, stick to what you¡¯ve said.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    I grit my teeth. ¡°Honestly, though, why do you even show up? You got the money. You have no responsibilities. Either be a mother or fully walk away. This in-between state isn¡¯t helping anyone.¡±


    Lyra looks past me. For a moment, I wonder if she¡¯ll actually answer me-if I¡¯ll finally get some form of understanding into the woman who¡¯d once set out to ruin my life.


    ¡°They¡¯re my kids too,¡± she finally says. ¡°Even if I¡¯m not-ah. We¡¯ve gotpany.¡±


    I turn to follow her gaze, and damn it, but it¡¯s Be. She stops a few feet away and nces between us. There¡¯s a Tupperware box of brownies in her arms.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to interrupt.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not. Be, this is Lyra, my ex-wife. Lyra, this is Be. She¡¯s the Gardners¡¯ niece, staying next door for the summer.¡±


    Lyra¡¯s face clears. ¡°My children have just told me about you. You were at the hospital with Haven?¡±


    ¡°Yes I was.¡± Be nces toward me again. ¡°She was very brave.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m certain of that. She has good genes.¡± Lyra¡¯s smile turns sharp. ¡°How nice of you to swing by to give the girls brownies.¡±


    Be doesn¡¯t wither under my ex-wife¡¯s stare. She smiles blithely back instead, and in that instance, the difference between them couldn¡¯t be clearer to me if it had been written above their heads. A brightly decorated viper in the bushpared to a warm, inviting hearth fire.


    ¡°The kids really like them,¡± Be says warmly. ¡°Well, it was great to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, likewise.¡± A ck car pulls to a smooth stop next to us, and Lyra turns to press a kiss to my cheek. ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon,¡± she tells me, like we¡¯re the best of friends.


    ¡°All right.¡± I doubt it.


    ¡°Goodbye, Be.¡±


    ¡°Bye.¡±


    Lyra¡¯s cab drives off, and Be and I watch it disappear. The trees on either side of the street rustle slightly in the passing wind, as if they¡¯re sighing in relief.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Be says. ¡°I thought she came yesterday.¡±


    ¡°That was the n, but ns have never mattered much to her. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I reach for the box of brownies. ¡°I could really use one of these right now.¡±


    She smiles crookedly. ¡°I sort of figured you would.¡±


    ¡°You know me that well already?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to.¡± She opens the lid for me and I fish one out. ¡°How are the girls?¡±


    ¡°Happy, for now. Evie doesn¡¯t really have any understanding of why it¡¯s odd that a mother would go away for so long. Haven¡­ she¡¯s more confused.¡±


    ¡°Understandable.¡± Be puts a hand on my arm, and God help me, but I lean into her touch. I¡¯m like a starved man when ites to it, and I doubt I¡¯ll ever be sated. ¡°How are you?¡±


    ¡°In need of a ss of whiskey,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe I was ever married to that woman.¡±


    Be nods, but her eyes burn with curiosity. Of course she wonders.


    ¡°Come in?¡± I suggest.


    ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± Her smile softens, and at the sight, something inside of me starts to as well.


    It¡¯s a long time before we finally settle down on the patio, just her and I, the kids asleep and the evening air warm. The summer sunlight ys softly on her hair, draped like a shimmering wave of brown down her back.


    I¡¯m here with her, and yet my mind can¡¯t stop tracing the contours of the old wound with Lyra. Over and over the encounter ys. Was I too firm? Not firm enough?


    Be tucks her legs underneath herself. ¡°I wish I knew what to say.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°About today,¡± she replies. ¡°You¡¯re preupied.¡±


    ¡°Right, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°No, don¡¯t be. I just want to be able to help you somehow, and I can¡¯t.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°You are helping, just by being here. And your brownies, too-they certainly helped.¡±


    She smiles. ¡°These were I¡¯m-sorry-your-ex-wife-is-a-bitch brownies, so they¡¯d better. The ones I made the first time were I¡¯d-like-to-get-to-know-you brownies.¡±


    I snort. ¡°That makes sense,¡± I say. ¡°These were a bit saltier.¡±


    Be sticks out her tongue at me, and Iugh, moving closer to her. Putting an arm around her feels like the simplest thing in the world, and by far the simplest thing I¡¯ve done today. She leans into my side, warm and true and somehow so easy. It makes it simple to say the words. ¡°All right,¡± I murmur. ¡°So you want the whole sordid tale?¡±


    ¡°If you want to tell it,¡± she says.


    ¡°I don¡¯t, really. But it might make you think slightly better of me.¡±


    She looks up. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 44

    ¡°Can you honestly tell me you haven¡¯t wondered why I was married to Lyra? From what you¡¯ve heard so far?¡±


    Be bites her lip, but the answer is in her eyes. ¡°A bit.¡±


    ¡°Just a bit? Good.¡±


    ¡°Well, she is very beautiful.¡±


    I snort again. ¡°And she knows it. Well, I met her at a party out of state. She was witty and charming, and one thing led to the other. She was pregnant two monthster.¡±


    Be¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Yes. On purpose, too, as I discovered yearster. She¡¯d lied about taking birth control entirely.¡±


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± Be says. ¡°That¡¯s despicable.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I¡¯m inclined to agree. We got married shortly before Haven was born.¡± And Lyra had never wanted the pictures disyed anywhere, either, because of her noticeable baby bump.


    ¡°Did you want to get married?¡±


    I run a hand over my face. ¡°Yes and no. It felt like the right thing to do. The kid was ours and I¡­ well. I owed it to Haven and Lyra to give it a shot. Marriage, I mean. We signed a prenup, because at the end of the day we hadn¡¯t even known each other a year. She hated that, but¡­¡±


    Be nods slowly. ¡°But it didn¡¯t work out.¡±


    ¡°No. She was never interested in being a mother. We argued a lot.¡± Everything had been a fight, by the end. She wanted more parties. More time away from me. More money in her ount. ¡°And not too long after Haven, she got pregnant with Evie. I do think that was a genuine mistake on her part-she didn¡¯t want to be pregnant again.¡±


    Be puts a hand over mine, threading her fingers through mine. ¡°But you wanted Evie.¡±


    ¡°Of course I did. How couldn¡¯t I, after having held Haven? Evie arrived nine monthster and the marriage copsed soon after that.¡±


    Fights.


    I can¡¯t do this anymore.


    Lyra packing up her things.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Be¡¯s voice is thick with sincerity, and for the first time in a long while¡­ it doesn¡¯t grate. It doesn¡¯t feel pitying. There¡¯s none of the implied we-suspected-it-all-along that I¡¯d gotten from my mother or my brother. They¡¯d apparently known she was a gold-digger from the start.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t heard the worst yet,¡± I say, ncing behind me to double-check that the patio door ispletely locked. The next words are difficult to speak out loud. Difficult to even consider without anger rising up to put me in a chokehold.


    Be squeezes my hand. ¡°I haven¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°It all came out in the divorce settlement. It was so tantly obvious, with her on one side and me on the other, that all she¡¯d ever wanted was money. She was the one who made the offer. She would relinquish her custody if I agreed to scrap the prenup.¡±


    Be¡¯s drawn-in breath is audible. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Dead serious.¡± My voice feels detached, far away, floating somewhere over the burning rage in my stomach. I will always try to keep my daughters from finding out about that, but one day they¡¯ll draw the conclusion themselves, and hearing them ask about it will break my heart more than Lyra ever did. ¡°She told me straight out that she¡¯d lied about birth control with Haven for that purpose.¡±


    ¡°She trapped you?¡±


    ¡°Essentially, yes.¡± I reach for my ss of whiskey and knock it back, but it does nothing to quell the tension inside me. ¡°Joke¡¯s on her, though, because I was dealt the best hand. I can always make more money, but the kids are irreceable.¡±


    Be is silent for a long while. So long that when I look down at her, I¡¯m shocked to see that her eyes are glittering, sparkling with unshed tears.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I know it¡¯s¡­ wow. You¡¯re strong, Ethan. And kind. And a far better person than I am, for being able to be civil to her today. I want to p her now.¡±


    It takes me a moment to absorb the impact of her words. It¡¯s been an age since I¡¯ve felt anything but a fool over my blindness in that marriage. Someone who¡¯d easily been yed. I¡¯d walked straight into her trap.


    Seeing Lyra and Be together had made it all so clear. Be values her studies and her future, baking and hiking, children and animals-at least the cat she¡¯s taking care of.


    And her face is an open book.


    ¡°Be,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯ve seen the truth. I¡¯m a dad who either spends too little time with his kids or too little time at his job. I promised to read your thesis and I haven¡¯t even managed to follow up on that. I have no idea what I can realistically offer you in terms of the future¡­ but I want to try.¡±


    Be cups my face between her palms, the skin soft against the stubble on my cheeks. Her eyes are wide. ¡°To try?¡±


    ¡°Yes, to try and date you properly. To be an us, whatever that means. We¡¯ll figure out the details along the way.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    I haven¡¯t been nervous in a long time. But I¡¯m nervous now, watching her beautiful hazel eyes, the unlined skin of her face, the kindness in her smile. She¡¯s so young, and so smart, and so gorgeously unattached. She could be with anyone. Anyone at all that isn¡¯t me, with a truckload of baggage and two kids.


    ¡°I want to try too,¡± she murmurs, and the smile that breaks across her face¡­ it takes my breath away.


    I catch her lips with mine. Sheughs as I bend her back, as she stretches out on the loveseat and wraps her arms around me. I can¡¯t remember thest time I felt as hopeful about the future as I do now, so I grip her tight, as if I can keep both her and the feeling close by arms alone.


    I rearrange my bangs in front of the hallway mirror for the fiftieth time, my hair long down my back-and thank God for that, because for some reason I¡¯ve gone with a backless dress.


    One I¡¯d bought years ago on sale, andter realized was not only unpractical but basically useless. Not only was it risky, as it was just fastened with a tie around my neck, but it was light blue. When did I go to events that called for dresses like these?


    Tonight, apparently.


    I take a deep breath and push an offending tendril of hair to the side. Ethan and I are going to a party-and we¡¯re doing it together. ¡°Easy peasy,¡± I tell my own reflection. ¡°He likes you, you like him¡­ nothing could be simpler.¡±


    The bell to the gate rings and I grab my purse in one hand, bending to say goodbye to Toast. My hand disappears in the cat¡¯s thick gray fur.


    ¡°Wish me luck?¡±


    He butts his head against my hand and lets out a small, warm purr. I scratch behind his ear. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I ask. ¡°Are we bing friends?¡±


    Toast winds around my leg before disappearing down the hallway, probably offended by the mere suggestion. ¡°Don¡¯t worry!¡± I call after him. ¡°I won¡¯t tell anyone!¡±


    Then I lock the door behind me and head down to meet Ethan. He has his back to me, his navy trousers expertly fitted, contrasting with the blue shirt that stretches taut over his shoulders.


    I pause with my hand on the gate. ¡°Sorry,¡± I say, ¡°but I¡¯m looking for my neighbor? Single dad, usually wearing shorts?¡±


    Ethan¡¯s smile is wide and carefree, the one that always manages to take my breath away. Will I ever gain immunity? I doubt it. ¡°You¡¯ve only seen me at my worst, haven¡¯t you?¡± he asks.


    ¡°If that¡¯s been your worst, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready for you at your best.¡±


    His gaze wanders over my form, down my neck, my dress, my espadrille wedges. ¡°You¡¯ve been holding out on me too,¡± he says. ¡°Are you nning on opening the gate or am I doomed to admire you from a distance forever?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 45

    Laughing, I push it open, stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the waiting crook of his arm. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t doom you to anything.¡±


    Ethan presses a kiss to my temple. ¡°You¡¯re stunning.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure this isn¡¯t overdressed for a barbecue?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he snorts. ¡°Trust me, Cole and Skye rarely do casual. This might be called a barbecue, but it¡¯s really their version of a summer party.¡±


    Perhaps he notices my nerves, or he can anticipate them, because he tugs me closer. ¡°Sure you want to go? I don¡¯t mind staying home. I know what being seen together with me can mean, sometimes.¡±


    ¡°No, no, of course I want to go. I was just wondering if you¡¯re sure, actually,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯ll get questions from your friends, you know.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s smile is a sh of white. ¡°As opposed to theck of questions I got when I was single, you mean?¡±


    ¡°I guess I¡¯d forgotten about that.¡±


    ¡°And so what if they have questions? I meant what I said¡­ I do want to try. And being my date to a party is part of that.¡±


    It¡¯s a statement, but Ethan¡¯s deep voice makes it a question. It¡¯s the same question he¡¯s been asking me all week-either with his words or his touch. Can we make this work? And at every turn I¡¯ve said yes, yes, yes. This time is no different.


    I slip my hand through his. ¡°All right, then. I¡¯m ready.¡±


    ¡°We have one stop to make first.¡±


    ¡°We do?¡±


    He tugs me along toward his house, the gate already half-open. ¡°Someone is very excited about seeing you in your dress.¡±


    Havenes running down the hallway toward the open front door. ¡°Be!¡±


    ¡°Haven!¡±


    Her eyes widen as she takes in my dress. I wonder if I should pull my hand out of Ethan¡¯s, but he keeps his grip firm around mine. Has he spoken to them yet?


    ¡°You look so pretty!¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell her. ¡°Do you like the color? It¡¯s not purple, but it¡¯s pretty close.¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s still pretty,¡± she assures me. Her eyes snag on our intertwined hands. ¡°Daddy, are you taking Be to a ball?¡±


    He reaches out and musses her hair. She darts back, shooting me a can-you-believe-this-guy? look. I bite my lip to keep fromughing. ¡°It¡¯s not a ball,¡± he says, ¡°and I¡¯m not a prince.¡±


    Haven rolls her eyes and looks straight at me. ¡°I know Daddy¡¯s not a prince, but you look like a princess.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell her, because just like that, Haven has banished my nerves entirely. The only thing that really matters beyond Ethan is his daughters, and if they¡¯re fine with us, I can handle whatever questions his Greenwood Hills friends might have.


    Ethan keeps his hand in mine on the walk over to Cole¡¯s house. The summer air is warm, and the sun won¡¯t set for hours still. It¡¯s the perfect evening for a party.


    I push the faint, incessant guilt to the back of my mind-but only for tonight. I¡¯ll tell him tomorrow. And besides, house-sitter, the Gardners¡¯ niece¡­ does it really matter so much, in the grand scheme of things? Ethan has beening over nearly every evening this past week, and the things we¡¯ve spoken about, the things we¡¯ve done¡­ He¡¯ll understand when I tell him.


    We pause outside of a house that is the size of a small castle. If I thought mine or Ethan¡¯s was imposing, this is¡­


    Ethan snorts beside me. ¡°Big, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    That¡¯s an understatement. It looks like the kind of house people who¡¯ve never been to Greenwood Hills think are in Greenwood Hills.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I say.


    ¡°It¡¯s even worse on the inside. Come on, let me show you.¡± He keeps his hand in mine as we walk up the massive driveway, nodding to some of the people milling on the front porch.


    It is even worse on the inside. Double staircases, marble floors, interior design that looks too casually thrown together to be anything but nned-likely the work of an interior designer. No one actually owns fourteen coffee-table books.


    Skye sees us first and reaches out to hug us both. ¡°Thank God,¡± she says. ¡°Familiar faces!¡±


    Ethan raises an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s that bad?¡±


    She nces over her shoulder. ¡°Not at all. Just¡­ well, a little, actually. I¡¯ve just spent the better part of an hour debating publishing models and while that¡¯s fascinating, I could use an escape.¡±


    ¡°Is Isaac upstairs?¡±


    Skye¡¯s eyes warm. ¡°Yes, and I can¡¯t wait to sneak back up thereter. Oh, I didn¡¯t mean that how it sounded. Please don¡¯t take offense.¡±


    Ethan shakes his head. ¡°None taken. I know the feeling.¡±


    ¡°I bet you do.¡± Skye gives me a wide smile. ¡°I¡¯m so d you could make it too, Be.¡±


    I meet her smile with my own. She hadn¡¯t even nced down at my hand, still intertwined with Ethan¡¯s. ¡°So am I. You have a beautiful home.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. A bit on therge side, though, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I must look as shocked as I feel, because sheughs. ¡°Oh, I know what it looks like. I¡¯d shave off a few square feet myself, but that doesn¡¯t work when your husband develops properties for a living.¡±


    ¡°Poor you,¡± Ethan teases, and Skyeughs again.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m really struggling here. Come on, you two. I¡¯m guessing you want to bypass all the unnecessary mingling?¡±


    Ethan nods. ¡°If possible?¡±


    Skye winks at us. ¡°Of course it is. Having a lot of square feet does have some perks, you know.¡±


    She leads us through a gigantic kitchen and out through a back door. We emerge to the side of the crowded patio, following her down a few steps to a sunken lounge. Sitting on the patio furniture are people I recognize. ir, Nick, Cole, all sharing a drink. From across thewn, the sound of soft live music drifts toward us.


    Well, this is certainly one kind of barbecue, I guess. Ethan wasn¡¯t kidding when he said they didn¡¯t do casual.


    We have a seat on the empty loveseat. ir grins and nods to our intertwined hands. ¡°Good to see you two took our advice,¡± she says, blonde hair like a golden waterfall around her face. She¡¯s still as unbelievably gorgeous as the first time I¡¯d met her.


    Nick elbows her gently, and she gives us a chagrined smile. ¡°Sorry. I know these things take time, and I shouldn¡¯t push.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we took too much time, did we? It¡¯s been two months since I moved in?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 46

    Ethan rests his arm behind me on the couch and takes a sip of the drink just offered to him. ¡°Something like that, yes.¡±


    Cole shakes his head. ¡°I can¡¯t believe your luck, man. The perfect woman just moves in next door? That just doesn¡¯t happen. I feel like you haven¡¯t worked for it enough.¡±


    Ethan snorts, but he doesn¡¯t object. ¡°Can¡¯t say I disagree.¡±


    ¡°How about you?¡± I ask Cole and Skye, who¡¯s just sat down on the armrest of his chair. ¡°How did you two meet?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Cole says, ¡°it¡¯s a rather long story.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very short,¡± Skye protests. ¡°He was trying to tear down property that I was trying to protect.¡±


    Cole mutters something in his ss that sounds an awful lot like that¡¯s not how we met, but Skye ignores himpletely.


    ¡°That soundsplicated,¡± I say, ¡°and very intriguing. What happened next?¡±


    Theyunch into their story together and I listen, nestled into the crook of Ethan¡¯s arm. It¡¯s clearly a telling they¡¯ve perfected, because they know when to pause for the other¡¯s part. It¡¯s as thrilling to watch as the story itself.


    From there, the conversation flows easily. It¡¯s not awkward at all, actually, being here with Ethan¡¯s high-flying friends. I¡¯m certainly aware of the difference between us-I have nowhere to live and they probably all own multiple houses-but it doesn¡¯t make me self-conscious the way it had when I first met them at dinner. They¡¯re people, I¡¯m people. Not to mention that Ethan likes them, and I trust his judgment. Not once has he lorded his money or status in a way that¡¯s made me ufortable.


    Cole stops by my sideter, a ss in his hand. ¡°You¡¯re the Gardners¡¯ niece, right?¡±


    The pulled pork slider I¡¯ve just swallowed turns to lead in my stomach. I can¡¯t reply.


    By my side, Ethan speaks for me. ¡°Yes, she is.¡±


    ¡°Some of their close friends are here, I believe. Craig and Joanna Robson. Do you know them? They¡¯re over by the fire pit.¡±


    ¡°We can go over and say hi,¡± Ethan offers, finishing thest of his own slider. ¡°I don¡¯t mind.¡±


    Oh no.


    No, no, no.


    ¡°Thanks for letting me know,¡± I tell Cole. ¡°I might talk to themter, but for now, I need another one of those burgers.¡±


    ¡°So do I,¡± Cole says, motioning to one of the waiters. ¡°Isn¡¯t my caterer the best?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and you¡¯re the humblest,¡± Ethan says, epting another of the sliders. Somehow, neither of them pick up on the panicked sweat that must have broken out across my forehead.


    The second it¡¯s just the two of us again, I grip Ethan¡¯s hand tightly. ¡°Do you want to head out soon?¡± I ask. ¡°I think I¡¯ve had enough miniature burgers and crooning jazz music tost me a week, possibly longer.¡±


    Ethan tips my head back and kisses me, right there in front of anyone who might be looking. ¡°Thought you¡¯d never ask,¡± he says.


    The sigh of relief that escapes me as we leave Cole¡¯s mansion behind is tinged with heavy guilt. All it would¡¯ve taken was one word to the wrong guest at that party for the innocent lie toe crashing down around me.


    And it would be so much worse if he didn¡¯t hear it from me.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± I say softly. ¡°Tonight was amazing. This whole past week has been, actually. Absolutely amazing.¡±


    He fits his arm tightly around my waist. ¡°I¡¯m happy to hear it,¡± he murmurs. ¡°It¡¯s been amazing for me too.¡±


    ¡°I want you to know that meeting you was¡­ well, one of the best, most unexpected things in my life. I had no idea when I moved here for the summer that this would happen between us. It¡¯s been the best surprise.¡± I swallow, forcing the next words out. ¡°That¡¯s what I want you to focus on.¡±


    He unlocks the gate to his house, pulling me along up toward his front door. The sudden change in direction disrupts my flow. ¡°We¡¯re going to yours? What about the kids?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯re sleeping in my bed tonight.¡±


    ¡°What about the girls? Won¡¯t they be surprised when I¡¯m here in the morning?¡±


    ¡°You oftene by for weekend breakfast anyway,¡± he says, unlocking the front door. The second it closes behind us, he wraps his arms around me. ¡°You can¡¯t say things like that to me, Be, not without living up to them. Stay the night with me. Let me show you just how good of a surprise this has been for me too.¡±


    My arms tighten around his neck. The fierce sincerity in his voice has dealt a withering blow to my resolve, but it makes one final, valiant stand. ¡°Ethan, I need to-¡±


    He presses his lips to mine and swallows the truth I¡¯d nned onying out for him, meeting it with soft heat and strong, gripping hands. The truth is better spoken in daylight, after all.


    The dark is for lovers.


    Heys me out on his bed, strips me slowly, even as I do the same to him. Tonight there are no discussions about lists or wants or fantasies. There¡¯s just us and the sound of our breathing.


    And when he spreads my legs and fills me up, when I cradle him against me and run my nails gently down his back, it¡¯s different than it¡¯s been before. We make love without words this time, but we¡¯ve never spoken louder.


    Ethan shudders in my arms when hees, burying his head against my neck. We lie like that for a long, long time.


    ¡°Stay,¡± he murmurs. ¡°I love having you in my bed.¡±


    I wrap both my arms and legs around him, fighting against the tears that prick at my eyes. He might have said bed, but the word I hear is life. And I feel the same way.This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    ¡°I love being in your bed,¡± I whisper, desperately hoping that I¡¯ll still be invited after tomorrow, when the truth meets the cold light of day.


    Be groans and turns over in bed, pretending to put a pillow over her head. She mumbles something that sounds like it¡¯s so early.


    Laughing, I pull the cover up around her and press a kiss to her bare, smooth shoulder. ¡°Sleep a while longer, then.¡±


    She grumbles again but doesn¡¯t try to keep me in bed-not that I would¡¯ve been averse to her trying. But there are sounds from the hallway outside of my bedroom that are easy to recognize.


    I pull on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans and open my bedroom door to two girls, one in a tutu and the other in nothing but her nightie, dancing around with the theme song to Paw Patrol ying in the background.


    ¡°Morning!¡± Evie chirps. It¡¯s one of those small Evieisms-she¡¯s never quite figured out the point of adding good to good morning or good night.


    I scoop her up and ruffle Haven¡¯s hair. ¡°Did you guys just get up?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Maria is making breakfast, but she says we have to wait for Be, too.¡± Haven tries to peer around me into the dark of my bedroom. ¡°Is she still asleep?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s let her wake up slowly. Why don¡¯t we go grab some orange juice?¡±


    When Be finally emerges, she¡¯s showered and sheepish. The expression on her face makes me chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says. ¡°I thought I was used to early mornings, but apparently not.¡±


    ¡°You slept in for thirty minutes. It¡¯s hardly a capital crime.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 47

    Maria hands her a cup of coffee, the smile on her face just a tad smug. ¡°Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Be says earnestly. ¡°And thank you for preparing breakfast. Can I help with anything?¡±


    ¡°You can sit down with the girls,¡± Maria tells her. ¡°Sir?¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    I nod and lift Evie up from where she¡¯d been trying to climb on the drawers to reach the fruit tter. ¡°Come here, kiddo.¡±


    She wails in protest and goespletely limp in my arms-the newest tactic. It makes it damn near impossible to put on her clothes or brush her teeth, but it won¡¯t help her here.


    ¡°Won¡¯t work.¡± I tell her, plopping her down in her chair at the breakfast table. ¡°You¡¯ll get food in a minute.¡±


    ¡°Patience,¡± Haven tells her, with all the pretentious experience of being the older sibling.


    ¡°We¡¯ll all get food in a minute,¡± Be says, smiling at me from the other side of the table. It throws me off for a second, but then warmth spreads through my chest. It¡¯s odd, this¡­ or perhaps it¡¯s odd that it isn¡¯t odd, not at all. It feels right.


    The girls are going to get attached. Hell, they already are. But maybe that¡¯s okay. Perhaps she¡¯s here to stay-and perhaps letting someone new in is the right thing to do. The girls can¡¯t live in Lyra¡¯s shadow forever. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t either.


    Evie pulls Be into the living room immediately after breakfast. ¡°Can you help us?¡± she asks, holding up the makeup palette Haven had gotten from my ex-wife. ¡°I want a butterfly on my cheek.¡±


    Be looks over at me. Her expression is a mix of help me and what do I do? I grin and shake my head at her. You¡¯re on your own.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± she tells my youngest, ¡°but I¡¯m not good at drawing. Okay, have a seat here¡­¡±


    By the kitchen ind, Maria is humming to herself as she wipes off the marble. When she notices me watching, she shoots me a not-so-subtle thumbs up. ¡°Great job,¡± she tells me.


    Well.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± If both my mother and housekeeper approve¡­ perhaps my own apprehension is needless.


    It¡¯s midday by the time Be and I get a moment alone together. The girls have run out to y in the treehouse, with Maria to supervise. It¡¯s a Saturday unlike any I¡¯ve had in years-with no pressing demands to work, with an adult in the house that isn¡¯t my family, with possibility hanging in the very air.


    Be pulls me into the living room and down onto the couch. I wrap an arm around her and breathe in her scent. Shampoo and perfume and something else, warm skin and woman. I want to hold her like this forever.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°Mhm?¡±


    She pushes me back, a hand on my chest. ¡°I need to tell you something.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± My fingers twine through her hair, soft and silky.


    ¡°Remember when we first met?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do. You came over to introduce yourself with your I-want-to-get-to-know-you brownies.¡±


    ¡°Yes, right.¡± She takes a deep breath. ¡°And you asked me who I was, what I was doing here over the summer. Well, you kind of assumed, actually. And-¡±


    The sound of the bell to the gate rings through the entire house, amplified by the built-in speakers. ¡°Shit,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I can tell this is important.¡±


    She nods. ¡°But it can wait. Are you expecting someone?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± I say, heading to the hallway. The face on the inte is as familiar as it is inconvenient at the moment. ¡°You¡¯re here?¡±


    My younger brother¡¯s voice echoes back to me. ¡°Yes, and you¡¯re there. d we¡¯ve established that.¡±


    The snide asshole, probably flown in from New York or Tokyo or wherever he¡¯s been for work, and never a call in advance.


    I open the gate for him and turn to Be, who¡¯s already gathering up her things.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to go,¡± I tell her.


    ¡°Yes, I do.¡± She presses a kiss to my cheek. ¡°I don¡¯t need to force my way into every friend or family event you¡¯re having. That¡¯s not exactly nice, is it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not forcing your way into anything.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± she says. ¡°I left my thesis on your bedside table. Don¡¯t be too harsh in your critique, all right?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to read it.¡±


    She smiles at me, and it¡¯s her normal kind smile, but it¡¯s tinged with something else that I can¡¯t ce. What had she been meaning to tell me, exactly? A thousand options race through my head and none of them seem pleasant.


    But there¡¯s no time for that, because the front door opens and Liam steps in. He¡¯s in a suit, no tie, his hair a mess. ¡°Finally,¡± he says, ¡°I though¡­ oh. Hello,¡± he says to Be. The same height as me, the two of us dwarf her in the hallway.


    She gives him a half-smile and extends a hand. ¡°Hi there. I¡¯m Be, Ethan¡¯s friend.¡±


    He shakes her hand. A light shines in his eyes-one I remember from our childhood. ¡°Ethan¡¯s friend? How nice. I¡¯m his brother, Liam.¡±


    ¡°A pleasure.¡±


    ¡°Likewise.¡± His gaze meets mine with a wink. ¡°And why didn¡¯t I know you had a new friend, Ethan?¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t I know you wereing to town?¡±


    Liam waves that away, like it doesn¡¯t matter, and reaches up to undo the top button of his shirt. ¡°Wasn¡¯t sure I was until I boarded the ne. Now, beautiful Be, are you telling me that my big brother has finally found himself a girl?¡±


    I groan and reach out to brace myself against the wall. Trust Liam to have as impable timing as he did social skills. A skilled-as-hell investor, he¡¯d developed an oversized ego to match his oversized trades.


    I build things. Companies. Tech. My moneyes from creation. Liam¡¯s? Hises from trading, and damn if you didn¡¯t have to be an asshole to pull off that confidence trick.


    Beughs, but it sounds a bit forced. Damn it. ¡°I think you¡¯ll have to ask your brother about that,¡± she says. ¡°But for the record, I¡¯m all in.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyebrows shoot even higher, looking over at me now. ¡°Did you hear thedy?¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± I say, unable to stop the smile from tugging at the corners of my mouth. Whatever she¡¯d been about to tell me earlier, she¡¯s all in. All in.


    Liam finally lets go of Be¡¯s hand. ¡°And you certainly live up to your name,¡± he tells her.


    ¡°All right, did youe here just to hang in the hallway?¡± I ask.

 Billion Dollar Catch 48

    He shakes his head at Be, as if I¡¯m not there. ¡°He¡¯spletely forgotten his manners. Do you think he¡¯s a lost cause?¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°He has potential, but¡¯s it¡¯s been close at times.¡±


    ¡°Good thing he has you to pull him back from the brink.¡±


    Be looks over at me,ughter in her eyes. Whatever she sees on my face draws it to the surface, and it fills the air between us, light and lovely. ¡°Happy to,¡± she says. ¡°I was actually heading out. It was nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Sure you can¡¯t stay?¡± Liam asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, I have work to do. Besides, you have nieces to attend to.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Do you feel like being a canvas for makeup? They need someone to try out their new designs on.¡±


    My brother looks suitably rmed at that.


    But as it turns out, he¡¯s safe. Evie and Haven attack him with questions instead as they show him the treehouse and Haven¡¯s cast. They even perform a dramatic reenactment of Haven¡¯s fall andugh as Liam pretends to catch her.


    I do have to give it to my little brother-for all that he¡¯s never here, when he is here, he¡¯s all in. He stays for a few more hours, but I don¡¯t manage to get a real conversation going, one about his job or his ns for the future.


    It¡¯ste that evening when I finally open Be¡¯s thesis. She had indeed left it on my bedside table with a small post-it note on top.


    Be honest, she¡¯s written in looping cursive.


    I lie back with an arm under my head and start to read. She¡¯s a great writer, sinct and clever. I¡¯ve made it nearly halfway through when my phone rings.


    I answer without looking at the caller ID. ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± I tell her. ¡°Really good. Especially your use of-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not your little girlfriend.¡±


    My voice breaks off. ¡°Lyra?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s me.¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°What? No, how are you? How nice of you to call?¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    I grit my teeth. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Right down to business as usual. But that¡¯s all you care about, Ethan, isn¡¯t it? Business?¡±


    ¡°If you called just to have a fight, I¡¯m more than willing to hang up.¡±


    ¡°So testy.¡± She clicks her tongue. ¡°All right, I¡¯ll get to the point. You see, I¡¯ve been thinking a lot since Ist saw you. About one thing in particr-your cute neighbor girl.¡±


    I put down the thesis. ¡°Whatever you have to say, I don¡¯t want to hear it.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t? Oh, this I do think you¡¯ll want to hear. You see, meeting her got me thinking. I spent a lot of time talking to neighbors when I lived in Greenwood. You never had time for that sort of thing, of course.¡± A delicate pause. ¡°Or for me.¡±


    ¡°Lyra,¡± I warn. ¡°That is not the truth.¡±


    ¡°Well, I spoke to Mrs. Gardner several times. A nice, if somewhat severe, older woman. And one thing I remember very clearly.¡±


    Lyra pauses, like an actor before delivering a particrly juicy line. I have no patience for her dramatics. ¡°All right? And what was it?¡±


    ¡°Neither she nor her husband have any siblings. I remember, you see, because she oftenined that they were the only ones able to take care of their elderly parents.¡±


    It takes me a moment longer topute this information than it should. No siblings. And no siblings meant¡­ no nieces and nephews.


    ¡°You understand, right?¡± Lyra asks. ¡°This means your girl is a little liar.¡±


    There¡¯s no response to that. None at all, not against the pounding of my pulse or the anger at Lyra¡¯s obvious glee. Because I can¡¯t believe it. It¡¯s such an outrageously stupid lie, and Lyra is not above lying herself, just to stir things up.


    I hang up without responding, unable to face Lyra¡¯s gloating. Dazed, I nce down at Be¡¯s thesis, at the carefully scribbled post-it note. Be honest.


    There¡¯s no way she¡¯s been lying to me about this. Why would she? Why else would she be staying in their house?


    A loose sheet of paper peeks up out of the neatly stapled work in my hands. I tug it loose, and find that it¡¯s a letter. It must have gotten caught amongst the other pages.


    Reading the title takes me several tries.


    Application for Washington Polytech financial aid.


    Applicant: Miss Be Mary Simmons.


    The rest of the words blur together in a haze of thoughts, one moving faster than the other.


    If she had lied¡­ why had she? Perhaps she¡¯s been hired by the Gardners? She might actually be the live-in housekeeper, the cleaner, the stewardess. Lying about that made no sense, not unless you took into consideration an artfully ced document about her need for money in a binder meant for me.


    This has to be what she¡¯d tried to tell me earlier. She¡¯s going to ask me for money.


    Around me, the world gently copses.


    In terms of work, that day is aplete waste. The words on the screen in front of me swim-it¡¯s no use. I can¡¯t focus at all. No, my mind is on Ethan, on spending the night in his bed, on his wordsst night.


    I run a hand through my hair and try to shake the wide, stupid smile on my face. It refuses to budge, like it¡¯s been welded in ce. This thing with Ethan and me is better than anything I¡¯ve had before. Realer than reality, none of the pretense, just the two of us.


    And as soon as I get the chance to tell him the truth, there won¡¯t be anything between us. The longing toe clean is nearly overwhelming now. To meet his eyes and have him know all of me, the same way I want to know all of him. I text him and let him know that I¡¯m free that evening, after his brother has left, but he doesn¡¯t respond.


    The doorbell to my gate rings instead. Toast barely looks up from his perch on the couch-he¡¯s gotten used to Ethan¡¯s evening visits. I head over to the foyer and press the door to the gate without looking, unlocking the front door too.


    It¡¯s him, because of course it is. His thick hair falls over his forehead, nearly hiding the furrow in between his brows. How I long to erase it inughter or pleasure. That might be my goal in life, I think. Just keeping that furrow at bay.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say, reaching for him. He lets me pull him inside. ¡°Has your brother left?¡±


    ¡°Yes, a while ago.¡±


    ¡°It was really nice to meet him.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 49

    Ethan nods once, his arms at his side. By this time, he¡¯s usually wrapped them around me, sometimes carrying me off unceremoniously to the sofa or the bed.


    ¡°Good,¡± he says, but his tone says it¡¯s anything but. ¡°Be, I just heard that the Gardners don¡¯t have a niece.¡±


    My breathing chokes off for a second.


    And then I¡¯m babbling. ¡°Oh Ethan, I wanted to tell you so often, but I was afraid of how you¡¯d react. That¡¯s no excuse, of course. I should¡¯ve, of course I should¡¯ve. I tried to tell you this morning.¡±


    He¡¯s so still he might be a statue. ¡°So you¡¯re not family?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Then who are you exactly?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m house-sitting for the Gardners this summer. They needed someone to watch the cat, and the house, and water the nts and run water in the pipes¡­ it¡¯s like a summer job.¡±


    ¡°You get paid to live here,¡± Ethan rifies. The furrow in his brow is deeper, now. No erasing it in sight.


    ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°Was that so unthinkable to tell me? Why lie?¡±


    My chest feels like it¡¯s caving in on itself. I don¡¯t know where to start, how to approach this, and my words just spill out. ¡°I had two friends visiting, Wilma and Trina. I think I¡¯ve told you about them? It was a few days after you¡¯d seen me topless by the pool. They dared me to go over and introduce myself, and I was nervous. You assumed I was rted to the Gardners¡¯ somehow and I just rolled with it, because it felt silly to say that I was a house-sitter. You so clearly had your life together and¡­ well. But I had no idea what we¡¯d be, Ethan. None at all.¡±


    He holds up a hand. ¡°Your friends dared you toe over?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I mentioned that you were attractive. They wanted me to take a risk-I hadn¡¯t really spoken to a man after Ryan. And you work in the industry I study, so they told me to give it a shot¡­ Ethan?¡±


    He turns from me, a hand on the front door, and the tension in his shoulders would be visible from space. My words trip over each other in their rush to get out.


    ¡°It was a white lie, and it grew from there, until it felt impossible to undo. I¡¯m so sorry about that. Everything else I¡¯ve told you has been theplete truth, I promise.¡± My chest isn¡¯t just caving in, it¡¯s imploding, leaving me a hollow mess inside. Damn my tongue and my inability to find the right words.


    Ethan doesn¡¯t turn. ¡°Did you put your financial aid application in your thesis on purpose?¡±


    ¡°The document. Stuck in the thesis you left me. Was it on purpose?¡±


    Oh God. One of the letters must have gotten caught amongst the pages, stuffed as they often were in the same bag. The conclusions he must have drawn¡­ ¡°No, absolutely not.¡±


    He opens the door and heads out into the warm evening air.


    ¡°I need time,¡± he says.


    I follow him out on the frontwn. ¡°Okay,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll be here. And if you want to-¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t want to talk.¡± He pulls open the gate in my overwrought, wrought-iron fence. ¡°You lied to me, Be. For weeks.¡±


    And on that note, the gate locks behind him and he¡¯s off, out of my temporary property and perhaps permanently out of my life. I sink down onto thewn and try to keep from crying. But I don¡¯t seed in that, either.


    ¡°So you haven¡¯t spoken to him since?¡± Wilma asks, the concern on her face threatening to undo my calmposure.


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s been over a week?¡± Trina challenges. ¡°How can he be so hurt by this? It just doesn¡¯t make sense to me.¡±


    ¡°It makes perfect sense,¡± I say. ¡°He doesn¡¯t trust people easily, not after his divorce¡­ and then I went and lied to him.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what he¡¯s told his kids,¡± Wilma muses. ¡°They must be asking where you went, all of a sudden.¡±


    Sighing, I reach up for one of the packets of cocoa powder on the high shelf in the kitchen. With only two weeks left in the house, I¡¯m tentatively starting to arrange my meager possessions into boxes. Perhaps it¡¯s early to be packing, but I¡¯m so stressed by the radio silence from my neighbor-turned-lover that I have to keep myself busy somehow.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even want to think about that,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯m not sure he¡¯ll forgive me-ever.¡± The fear has been my onlypanion in the past week and a half, as I¡¯ve given him the space he asked for.


    ¡°That would be crazy,¡± Trina protests. ¡°Of course he will. From what you¡¯ve told us, this was real. It was great. If he¡¯s as smart as you think he is, he¡¯ll see that.¡±


    ¡°He might. But he could also decide that I¡¯m not worth the trouble. What good is loving someone if you can¡¯t trust them?¡± I¡¯d had a lot of time to think it through in the past few days-all the opportunities I¡¯d had to set him straight and not taken. It¡¯s a peculiar kind of pain, when it¡¯s entirely of your own making.


    Wilma shakes her head. ¡°You can¡¯t speak like that. You have to believe he¡¯lle around.¡±


    I snort, but nod anyway, mostly for her benefit. It¡¯s a discussion we¡¯ve had a million times. Me, rational, logical-insisting wishing for something doesn¡¯t help ite true. Her, a strong believer in belief itself, in good vibes and the universe and The Secret.


    ¡°Maybe he will,¡± I say, lifting up one of the cardboard boxes on the kitchen ind. ¡°Maybe he won¡¯t. But it doesn¡¯t change anything in the short term. I still have to find a ce to stay.¡±


    ¡°You can stay with one of us, of course,¡± Trina says. ¡°And I¡¯lle with you apartment hunting this weekend. You¡¯re visiting a few ces on Saturday, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Thank you, honestly. Both of you.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    Wilma smiles. ¡°That¡¯s what friends are for. I haven¡¯t forgotten who patched me back together after Ben and I broke up.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention you and Ivan,¡± Trina supplies, a smile on her lips. ¡°Or when you were convinced you failed your entrance exams. Or when we were at that party and you got-¡±


    ¡°All right, all right, we get it.¡± Wilma reaches out with her fingers syed, ready to pinch Trina¡¯s arm, but she dances back.


    ¡°We¡¯re here to support Be!¡± Trina says. ¡°No fighting!¡±


    Laughing, I step in between the two of them, holding up my arms like a judge in a boxing ring. ¡°Not in this house, you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So protective of the house,¡± Wilma says morosely, ¡°and not of your friends.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Material objects are forever, right? That¡¯s the saying?¡±


    ¡°Friendships are forever.¡± Trina gives me a push and Iugh, nearly tripping over Toast. He gives a disgruntled meow and looks up at me expectantly. I nce over at the time on the oven.


    ¡°Right, food time. He¡¯s like an rm clock, this one. He knows on the minute when it¡¯s time for him to be fed.¡±


    ¡°Smart cat,¡± Wilma says, sinking back into her kitchen chair. ¡°By the way, how have the sleeping aids I gave you worked out?¡±


    ¡°The non-sleeping-pill-sleeping-pills?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 50

    ¡°The organic, natural, herbal remedy sleeping aids, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Surprisingly well,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve been sleeping much better these past two months, and much deeper.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Wilma makes the universal sign for sess, an elbow tugged downwards, and shoots Trina and me a victorious look. ¡°Another win for ¡®untested and scientifically dubious medicine.''¡±


    ¡°It worked this time, yeah,¡± I allow. ¡°But I do feel very hormonal. That¡¯s not a side effect, is it? Like, my breasts are tender all the time. And while I usually get nauseous sometimes around my period, it¡¯s never been this bad before.¡±


    Wilma frowns. ¡°They¡¯re not supposed to affect that side of things,¡± she says. ¡°Sure you¡¯re not just about to have your period?¡±


    ¡°No, I had¡­ actually, I don¡¯t know when Ist had my period.¡± It feels like a long time ago. Longer than it should have been, longer than it usually feels like.


    ¡°Be,¡± Trina says carefully, ¡°you don¡¯t think you could be pregnant?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m on birth control. I take it every morning, like clockwork. I¡¯m like Toast with his food. Never miss a day.¡±


    ¡°Good, because that¡¯s not what you need right now.¡±


    ¡°Definitely not. It¡¯s probably nothing,¡± I say, waving my hand dismissively. ¡°I¡¯ll sort it out.¡±


    And that¡¯s that. It¡¯s not untilter, when they¡¯ve left and I start mentally calcting the days, that I realize my period isn¡¯t just fashionablyte. It¡¯s the kind ofte that would be downright rude to the host.


    I¡¯m not always very regr, but has it ever been thiste before? And once the idea takes root, it¡¯s impossible to get out-like when you leave the house and can¡¯t remember if you¡¯ve turned off the curling iron or not. The thought of pregnancy niggles away in my brain until I can¡¯t focus on anything at all.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just get one little test,¡± I tell Toast, grabbing my car keys. ¡°Just one little test. It¡¯ll be negative, and then I can stop worrying.¡±


    I get in my trusty little car with its new battery and pray it¡¯ll start. It hasn¡¯t given me grief this summer after I visited the mechanic, but of course this would be the day it acts up.


    Not today, I repeat. Not today of all days. And my Honda hears me, or perhaps Wilma is right and the universe does listen to your wishes, because I back out of my driveway without any trouble.


    No, the trouble starts when I drive down the quiet street and meet an achingly familiar Jeep. I slow my car to a crawl, and amazingly¡­ so does he.


    Two windows roll down. One by the driver¡¯s seat, revealing Ethan with both hands sped tightly on the wheel. There¡¯s no smile on his face, his jaw tense.


    The backseat reveals the cutest little six-year-old ever to live, with two ribboned pigtails. ¡°Be!¡± Haven says. ¡°Where have you been?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I haven¡¯t been around, sweetie,¡± I say, refusing to look at her father. ¡°I¡¯ve been very busy.¡±


    ¡°Can youe overter? I¡¯m going to a birthday party and I want braids, but Daddy can¡¯t do braids, and Maria isn¡¯t home tonight.¡±


    It takes everything I am to shake my head. Thankfully, Ethan spares me from answering. ¡°Be is busy tonight, too,¡± he says. ¡°She has school, you know. She needs to study.¡±


    Haven¡¯s face falls, and she shoots her father a re. He can¡¯t see it, but judging by its potency, I¡¯m sure he can feel it through the seat.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I agree. ¡°But I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see you again soon.¡±


    It¡¯s a lie, because I¡¯m not sure at all, not judging from the way her father is frowning. He looks over at me, and for the first time, our gazes lock.


    His brow is furrowed, his eyes narrowed with conflicting emotion. I can¡¯t tell if he misses me or wants to strangle me. Or himself. Or us both.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± I murmur.


    He shakes his head. ¡°We can talkter,¡± he says, rolling up their windows. I lift my foot off the brake and like two ships in the night, our cars start moving again. Haven waves cheerily from the backseat and I wave back.


    I manage to keep myposure for roughly five more seconds before my eyes well up, and by the time I park outside the pharmacy, I have to give myself a few minutes before I can go inside.


    I can¡¯t possibly be pregnant. This can¡¯t be happening, because if I am¡­ there¡¯s no way Ethan will ever look at me softly again.


    When I return to my oversized, over-empty mansion, Toast greets me by the door. He winds his way in between my legs and gives a soulful meow. I nce down at my watch, but it¡¯s not mealtime yet.


    I scratch him under the chin, sniffling. ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell him. ¡°You¡¯re a lot of work, but I like you.¡±


    He butts his head against my leg onest time. You¡¯re wee. I imagine him saying. But don¡¯t get used to it.


    I don¡¯t make it further than the guest bathroom on the first floor. There, under the soft lighting from directional spotlights, I¡¯m faced with the truth.


    I¡¯m pregnant.Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    At least if the four different pregnancy tests I¡¯ve bought and taken are to be trusted, and considering there¡¯s four of them¡­ I can¡¯t rationalize it away.


    Pregnant.


    How? Had my birth control pills expired? I race up the stairs to my bedroom, as if solving this problem might somehow solve the other one, the one involving unexpected motherhood.


    My hands shake as I look on the back of my birth control pills. Finding the expiration date and¡­ no. They¡¯re not expired. Not even close.


    What¡¯s happened? How have they failed?


    My gaze snags on the green bottle of sleeping aids that Wilma had given me. A bunch of leafy herbs are pictured on the front.


    Still trembling, I reach out and grab the bottle. Pills rattle inside. I scan the back¡­ St John¡¯s Wort, chamomile, ginger. And below, in the tiniest font known to man.


    Should NOT be taken in conjunction with hormone-based birth control.


    I sink down onto myrger-than-life bed, in myrger-than-life house with myrger-than-life problem.


    I¡¯m pregnant. I¡¯m pregnant. I¡¯m pregnant.


    And it¡¯s a fucking herb¡¯s fault.


    Which isn¡¯tforting at all, because it¡¯s not really true. It¡¯s my fault for not reading. For not researching. For assuring Ethan that I was on birth control and had the situation handled when I didn¡¯t.


    My stomach sinks with the realization that he¡¯s not going to handle this well. He¡¯s not going to believe me, not after knowing how Lyra had trapped him. Andbined with my previous lie¡­ What will he think of me?


    My stomach drops out from under me entirely, and I race to the bathroom, violently ill for the first time during this pregnancy.


    It won¡¯t be thest.


    The knowledge is irrevocable. It weighs on my mind every second of every hour, pulling me from sleep, from rest, from study. I spend that night staring up at the ceiling, trying toe to terms with the unexpected.

 Billion Dollar Catch 51

    Pregnant. A child.


    I would be a mother in nine months, and Ethan a father again.


    And right now I¡¯m the only one in the entire world who knows.


    The knowledge feels almost suffocating,bining with fear. How am I going to do this? Be a good mother and keep up with my studies?


    But I dismiss that thought fairly easily. My studies could wait a few months if they had to-children couldn¡¯t. And hadn¡¯t I always wanted to have kids one day¡­ Was it really so different, having them now or in five years¡¯ time? A small, surprised glow of happiness starts to form inside me, living right alongside the fear and the panic. I¡¯m going to be a mother.


    I have to tell Ethan. That¡¯s the first thing on my mind the next morning, as I try to formte a strategy. Tell the child¡¯s father, step one. Call my mom, step two. Find a ce to live, step three.


    Easy enough. What could possibly go wrong?


    I¡¯m eating breakfast and strategizing tactics for step one when my doorbell rings, which almost cuts off my air cirction. Has he beat me to it?


    He has, because when I open the gate, whoes walking up with his back straight and face determined? No one but Ethan.


    My hands start to shake, and uselessly, they flutter toward my still-t stomach. I knot them tightly together.


    ¡°Hi,¡± Ethan says, his voice low. ¡°Can Ie in?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡± I push the door open further and he steps inside, standing strong and tall in the center of my hallway. Well, not my hallway much longer.


    We stare at each other for a few moments.


    ¡°Well,¡± he says, his lip curling wryly. ¡°We¡¯ve really made a mess out of this, haven¡¯t we?¡±


    Relief so heady it nearly makes my knees buckle sweeps through me. He might not trust me, but he¡¯s noting here to tell me he never wants to see me again.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, ¡°although it was of my making.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I didn¡¯t react the way I should¡¯ve, either.¡± He pauses, frowning. ¡°Be, are you okay? You look tired.¡±


    Great, thanks. I¡¯ve just been having an existential crisis for the past fourteen hours. I wring my hangs and nod toward the couches in the living room. ¡°Do you want to have a seat?¡±


    Puzzled, Ethan follows my lead. The furrow in his brow is deeper than it¡¯s ever been before. ¡°Be?¡±


    ¡°I have to tell you something. Something else.¡± I knot my hands together in myp and pray to any and all gods listening for strength. For finding the right words. Because maybe, if I can just phrase this right¡­


    ¡°All right,¡± Ethan says. His voice is an ocean of caution. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°I discovered something yesterday. And I know what you might think when you hear it, but your first assumption won¡¯t be true, because I didn¡¯t n it at all.¡± My voice wavers twice, but so far my eyes are clear of tears. I can feel them waiting in the wings, though, ready for a cue only they know.


    ¡°What is it, Be?¡±


    I take a deep breath, fear roiling in my stomach. ¡°I¡¯m pregnant,¡± I say, and then my words trip over one another on their way out. ¡°You see, I took this herbal sleeping aid all summer, and apparently it interfered with my birth control. I¡¯ve Googled, and it¡¯s well-known in the medicalmunity, but I didn¡¯t know, and I didn¡¯t read the small print properly.¡±


    Ethan has be a statue again, frozen marble, strong lines immortalized in stillness. He gives no impression that he¡¯s going to speak soon, or perhaps ever again.


    My hands feel sweaty. ¡°I took the tests just yesterday. Four of them, actually. This is aplete surprise to me too. Ethan, I don¡¯t want you to think¡­ it wasn¡¯t intentional.¡± That¡¯s the cue, apparently, because my eyes well up of their own ord. Showtime!


    It takes forever until he speaks, and in the silence, the faint hope I¡¯d harbored weakens and sputters out entirely. His voice is weary.


    ¡°And I¡¯m the father, I assume. Fucking hell, Be, I didn¡¯t want more kids, especially not now.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I¡¯m nodding furiously. ¡°It¡¯s the worst possible timing, I know that. Same for me with school.¡±


    He¡¯s silent again, for so long that I have time to count to sixty twice. Wondering if I should keep exining, if I can only make him see¡­ But when he opens his mouth, I realize he¡¯s just been gathering steam.


    ¡°You told me you were on birth control.¡± It¡¯s the voice he uses when he deals with people he wants to get rid of-I¡¯ve heard him use it with his ex-wife.


    ¡°I am. But the herb in the sleeping aids decreases its efficiency. It was actually on the bottle, but I didn¡¯t read the fine print. That¡¯s on me.¡± Desperate, so desperate to be understood, I continue. ¡°It¡¯s called St. John¡¯s Wort. The herb. You can search it online.¡±


    He nods again. Falls silent.


    My heart beats a war drum in my chest.


    ¡°Where are you going now? After you move out of here?¡± Ethan asks. Polite interest in his voice, nothing more.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking at ces on Saturday. If I don¡¯t find anything right away, I¡¯ll stay with a friend.¡±


    ¡°All right. Well, you have my number. Call me if that doesn¡¯t work out or if you need anything.¡± He stands, and from his back pocket, pulls out his wallet. Counts through the bills. Puts a stack of them on the living-room table.


    ¡°For all the medical appointments,¡± he tells me, ¡°and the vitamins, for everything like that. I know it¡¯s costly.¡±


    I can hardly see the bills through my tears, can barely hear him through the audible sound of my heart breaking.


    This can¡¯t be happening. ¡°Ethan¡­¡±


    He pauses by the hallway. How has he made it all the way over there in the span of my heart cracking?


    His gaze is courteous, but there¡¯s no emotion on his face, like he¡¯s shut me out entirely. Like I¡¯m now a stranger.


    Like I¡¯ve betrayed him.


    The words spill out of the crack in my soul. ¡°What about us?¡± I ask. ¡°Is there any way you could forgive me? For lying about being their niece¡­¡±


    Ethan looks away, his jaw working. ¡°That lie seems almost minor now inparison,¡± he says calmly. ¡°Did you get inspired from Lyra¡¯s story, or was this always the n? Were you aiming for this from the first time you came over to introduce yourself? I¡¯d have to assume so, since that¡¯s the first time you lied to get closer.¡±


    I can¡¯t get enough air. It¡¯s all been sucked out of this room, out of the space between us, leaving it an empty vacuum.This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Ethan, that¡¯s not at all-¡±


    ¡°Spare it, Be.¡± He shakes his head. The disgust on his features¡­ it might be aimed at me or at himself or at us both. Probably us both. ¡°You might be having my child, but I¡¯m not about to trust you again. I¡¯ll be in touch.¡±


    He heads toward the front door, pulling it open. I stumble after him but only make it to the foyer before it ms behind him. Somewhere deep in the house, I hear a cat yelp at the sound.


    Slowly, ever so slowly, I sink to the floor. The stone is cold against my skin and my tears, when they fall, glisten on the hard surface.

 Billion Dollar Catch 52

    One thing is inevitable in life, and it¡¯s that time never stands still. The days keep turning, despite the internal state of panic I¡¯m in.


    Most days I spend ignoring my thesis in favor of pregnancy research, apartment hunting, packing up my belongings and ensuring the Gardners¡¯ house is in pristine condition for their arrival. I¡¯m to be out one day before they arrive, which includes coordinating with the cleaning crew to do a final sweep of the house.


    All these tasks are good. They keep me busy-too busy to focus on the fact that my baby¡¯s father hates me. That I have no idea at all how I¡¯m supposed to break this news to my parents, to my friends.


    That I might eventually have things like preempsia or something that¡¯s called lightning crotch.


    My visit to the OB-GYN isn¡¯t for several weeks yet-she¡¯dughed when I said I thought I shoulde in right away. ¡°Between week six and eight,¡± she told me, ¡°you¡¯re wee toe in for your first appointment. Before then, I can¡¯t really see much.¡± And then, the first person to say it, she added, ¡°And congrattions, Be.¡±


    I¡¯d cried after I hung up the phone, but I do that a lot these days.


    The hardest thing was to be quiet around Wilma and Trina. I joined them for drinks one evening to celebrate Trina¡¯s new appointment as an undergraduate teaching assistant, and had to me a headache for my choice of drink.


    ¡°How¡¯s Ethan?¡± Wilma had asked, her hand reaching out tond on mine. ¡°Have you been able to get through to him?¡±


    ¡°No. That ship has sailed entirely, I think.¡±


    ¡°Stubborn, infuriating man,¡± Trina had said. ¡°Do you want us to knock some sense into him? We could, you know.¡±


    ¡°Greenwood Hills security might get to us first,¡± Wilma mused. ¡°We¡¯d have to go incognito.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Be, if you lend us your trench coat, we¡¯ll go pummel your man for you.¡±


    I¡¯dughed, touched and warm and sad all at once. My heart ached to tell them the truth, but it still felt too big for me to grasp myself. I couldn¡¯t even imagine saying the words out loud.


    I¡¯m going to be a mother.


    I¡¯d kept my hand on my stomach for the rest of the night, a quiet determination growing every time I¡¯d repeated those words in my head. And I¡¯m going to do the best job I can.


    So by the time I¡¯m set to move out of the Gardners¡¯ mansion in Greenwood Hills, it¡¯s real to me, just as real as the new and painful morning sickness that has started to make an appearance. I hope it¡¯s just passing through, and not here to stay.


    I keep the trunk to my Honda Civic open and carry bag after bag out to the car. I tuck my handbag in on top and I¡¯m just narrowly able to close it.


    There. An entire summer-and entire life, it feels like-all packed up.


    There¡¯s no sound from the other side of the hedge. It¡¯s empty, quiet, just like my phone has been. Ethan hasn¡¯t been in touch, and I¡¯ve been too afraid to contact him. He¡¯ll do the right thing, but knowing he¡¯ll do so begrudgingly, thinking I tricked him¡­


    The shame of it makes my cheeks burn.This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I walk through the house onest time, attic to the basement, making sure everything is in ce. Expensive vases in their correct spots, check. Kitchen cupboards empty of my items, check. Saying goodbye to Toast¡­ not check.


    ¡°Toast?¡± He¡¯s not upstairs, not in any of his normal spots.


    ¡°Toast?¡± He¡¯s not downstairs, sprawled on the couch or waiting by his food bowls.


    I rush out the front door and shut it firmly behind me. Had I forgotten to do that while I carried my things? Had he finally managed to make his big escape?


    ¡°Toast? Toast!¡± The entire yard is fenced, but he¡¯s a cat. In the fight between the two, I knew which one I¡¯d put money on. I walk around the property, calling his name, panic increasing with each passing minute. This can¡¯t be happening, not today, not when I have to leave, and not to Toast.


    It¡¯s one thing too many.


    ¡°Toaaast!¡±


    I look under the lounge chairs and by the pool. The gardening shed, too. Nowhere. Gone.


    A deep voice calls out from the treehouse. ¡°Has the cat disappeared?¡±


    Ethan. Watching me from his side of thewn, just like the first time we¡¯d seen each other.


    I nod miserably. ¡°I think he snuck out when I was loading my car.¡±


    ¡°And you haven¡¯t found him?¡±


    He withdraws from the window, only to return a secondter. ¡°I¡¯lle help you look.¡±


    My heart is pounding by the time he¡¯s at my front gate. He walks in with a single nod to me, striding around the perimeter of the property. I follow him.


    ¡°He¡¯s been gone for about an hour at least.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing your ¡®aunt and uncle¡¯ would hate it if he¡¯s gone?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Hate might even be an understatement. Toast¡¯s well-being had been key in the house-sitting manual I¡¯d been given. All instructions began and ended with him. How could I have been so stupid?


    Ethan and I are quiet as we look. A truce, of sorts, even if my body feels like a live wire, taut with his presence.


    ¡°How are the girls?¡± I ask, my curiosity oveing my caution.


    ¡°Good.¡± Ethan¡¯s voice is clipped. And then, reluctantly, ¡°They¡¯re wondering why you stoppeding over.¡±


    ¡°What did you tell them?¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯re getting ready to move and you¡¯re very busy.¡±


    I nod, slowly. Makes sense. And yet, one day, we¡¯d have to talk to them. They¡¯d be getting a baby brother or sister, after all.


    Perhaps Ethan hears my thoughts in the silence, because he drags a hand through his hair. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Be,¡± he tells me. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± I say. One problem at a time.


    Cat today. Baby tomorrow.


    But by the time the sun starts to set, Toast is still nowhere to be seen. Ethan has to return to the girls, and I walk him to the gate, right past my fully packed Honda.


    ¡°Let me know if I can do anything to help,¡± he says.


    ¡°You¡¯ve already helped,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you for looking with me.¡±


    He nods once, ncing toward the car. ¡°Text me when you¡¯re settled into your new ce. I¡¯lle over, one day. We have¡­ things to go over. Logistics. Preparations.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 53

    ¡°Okay. Yeah, I¡¯ll do that.¡± The furrow on his brow is killing me, making me feel like a personal failure. I haven¡¯t helped smooth it out at all-I¡¯ve only made it deeper.


    We¡¯ll be okay, I tell myself and the baby. Your daddy is a really good man. He¡¯lle around. But try as I may to crush the small kernel of doubt, a flicker of it remains.


    ¡°Be¡­¡± Ethan says.


    ¡°There¡¯s something moving in your car.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± I open the trunk and immediately start digging through my bags, and yes¡­ there¡¯s an annoyed hiss and then a gray head peeking out of one of my bags.


    ¡°Toast!¡±


    The disgruntled cat lets me pick him up. ¡°You¡¯d been hiding in my packing, you rascal?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t confirm or deny, choosing silence instead-a clever move. ¡°Oh, thank God,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you, Ethan. I truly can¡¯t thank you enough.¡±


    He nods again. ¡°Sure. Drive safe, Be.¡±


    ¡°I will. Ethan?¡±


    He pauses by the gate, big and solid and real and further out of my reach than he¡¯d ever been before. His gaze is heavy. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m truly sorry about this situation. Whether you believe me or not regarding the rest, I hope you¡¯ll believe that. I never wanted us to be like this.¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a long moment. ¡°That,¡± he says finally, ¡°I think I can ept.¡±


    He disappears, out of my driveway and back to his own house, where his existence will continue as it was before I came into the picture.


    Toast purrs contentedly as I carry him back up to his ptial house. I press a kiss to the soft, warm fur on top of his head. ¡°Goodbye,¡± I murmur. ¡°I¡¯ll miss you so much.¡±


    ¡°Daddy,¡± Evie wails from her car seat. ¡°Let¡¯s gooo.¡±


    ¡°Just a second.¡± I stretch to my full height, peering above the hedge. I¡¯m just barely able to make out the shape of a sleek, silver Jaguar on the driveway. The same car that¡¯s always parked there when my neighbors are home.


    No beat-up Honda Civic in sight.


    ¡°Daaaddy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes.¡± I close Evie¡¯s door and settle into the driver¡¯s seat. Haven is quiet in the backseat, ying with a doll she¡¯s holding.


    I see them when I back out of my driveway, right through the ts in their fence. Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, walking down the familiar path toward their garage.


    They see me. I raise a hand in hello, which is nothing we¡¯ve ever done before. Why am I starting now?


    My car crawls forward.


    Mr. Gardner, his gray hair perfectly coiffed, raises a hand in a hesitant hello back. The car continues down the street. If I¡¯d spoken to them more, I would have known Be wasn¡¯t the real deal.


    Haven gives a dramatic sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t like our new neighbors.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not new,¡± I correct. ¡°They¡¯ve lived there for years, you just haven¡¯t noticed.¡±


    She res at me through the rearview mirror. ¡°They are new,¡± she protests, ¡°because Be lived there before.¡±


    My hand tightens around the wheel. Be, my salvation, and Be, my ruin.


    ¡°She was only living there temporarily.¡±


    ¡°Tem-po-rar-ily,¡± Haven pronounces, pouring as much disdain as is possible for a six-year-old into the word. It¡¯s clear she doesn¡¯t find my side of the argument very convincing.


    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± I say. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I agree with you. I don¡¯t like them very much either.¡±This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Not inparison-not even now, knowing what I know, when Be¡¯s name turns to ash on my tongue and the memories feel like wounds.


    Haven hoots in the backseat, content with her victory. Evie, having followed this conversation carefully, asks the one thing she¡¯s picked up on.


    ¡°Be ising back?¡±


    Haven saves me from responding. ¡°No, silly,¡± she says. ¡°Her and Daddy had a fight.¡±


    ¡°Bad Daddy,¡± Evie says, her voice one of deep reproach.


    Sometimes I think parenthood is like being trapped in a madhouse for years, desperately trying to stay sane.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t have a fight,¡± I lie, breaking one more of the rules I¡¯d tried to live by for so long. Be honest with your kids.


    ¡°Then why are you so grumpy?¡± Haven asks, and after a millisecond¡¯s pause, she exims, ¡°Aha! See?¡± like she¡¯s just received confirmation.


    I shake my head, turning the car onto my mother¡¯s street. Thank God she¡¯s been a Greenwood Hills resident for as long as I have.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve been grumpy,¡± I say, parking the car on the curb. ¡°Be and I were good friends, and then she had to move away.¡±


    This, Evie understands. ¡°Daddy¡¯s sad?¡±


    I exhale slowly. Daddy¡¯s pissed, actually. Furious. Offended. Shocked. But I¡¯m forced to lie again, because Be has ensured she¡¯ll be in their lives, now as the mother of their half-sibling.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Daddy¡¯s sad.¡±


    Haven reaches forward and puts her good hand on my shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t be sad. You still have us.¡±


    I put my hand on hers and feel like an indecisive balloon, caught between intion and detion. My anger dissipates like smoke in the wind. ¡°And you two are all I¡¯ll ever need, baby girl.¡±


    Haven¡¯s hand slips from underneath mine. ¡°Grandma!¡±


    A secondter she¡¯s utched her seat belt and struggles with her door, my motherughing on the other side as she pulls it open.


    ¡°Hi there, honey!¡±


    The girls wave cheery goodbyes to me as they bound up my mother¡¯s driveway, hand in hand with her. I have everything I need, truly. I have a fantastic mother, two beautiful children, apany that¡¯s thriving and a job that I love. I can handle another kid.

 Billion Dollar Catch 54

    Hell, that part is probably the easiest; I know from experience that holding your child, seeing him or her for the first time¡­ yeah, that wouldn¡¯t be difficult at all.


    No, the difficult part would be facing Be over and over and over again. It wouldn¡¯t be like with Lyra. No, every time I¡¯d see Be, it would be like seeing my own doomed hope.


    She¡¯d never sneer at me orugh like Lyra did.


    And somehow that felt worse.


    The gates to Cole¡¯s mansion slide open when I approach, allowing me to park by his house. A nce at the watch tells me I¡¯m a few minuteste, and I find him and Nick on the back porch. Aptop is ced on the table, but that¡¯s the only sign that this is a work meeting, the two of them reclining with sunsses on.


    I shake my head at them. ¡°All you two are missing is a pair of pina cdas with tiny umbres.¡±


    Cole pushes up his sunsses. ¡°Are you offering to make us two, Carter?¡±


    ¡°In your dreams.¡± I sit down on the lounge chair opposite them. ¡°Is Skye around?¡±


    ¡°Upstairs, working,¡± he says. ¡°She has a deadline next week.¡±


    ¡°New book?¡±


    ¡°A new chapter to her editor,¡± he says. ¡°Books aren¡¯t that fast to write. I should know, because I once said that and got my head bashed in.¡±


    ¡°Your hotels aren¡¯t fast to build either,¡± Nick points out. ¡°Learn some humility.¡±


    Cole throws his hands up. ¡°It¡¯s my one w.¡±


    ¡°One?¡±


    ¡°Yes, one. Without humility, I couldn¡¯t possible admit to more.¡±


    I snort. ¡°You said this was a business meeting. To the best of my knowledge, though, we¡¯re not in business together. Nor do our areas ovep.¡±


    Nick¡¯s grin is crooked. ¡°Not yet, they don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been talking,¡± Cole continues, ¡°about creating a holdingpany.¡±


    I lean forward. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. A capital venture firm, of a sorts. Not the kind Nick runs, but with more focus on investing. We all have investments of our own, of course,¡± Cole says. ¡°This one would be more for our own amusement. It would allow us to invest inpanies off the beaten track.¡±


    I run a hand over my jaw. ¡°One we¡¯d own jointly?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯d all invest an equal share. The management would report to us, since we¡¯d constitute the board.¡±


    Nick nods to me. ¡°And we¡¯ll hire a known, expert capital investor to run the whole thing. He¡¯d have his own team.¡±


    I find myself nodding along. My own investments are solid, A-grade. Long-term, and all with the help of a private financial manager. This, though¡­ it would be fun. We could have a say in the cements.


    ¡°He?¡± I repeat. ¡°Do you already have someone in mind for the position of chair and manager?¡±


    Cole grins, like he¡¯s already told a joke. ¡°Your little brother.¡±


    Myugh is surprised. ¡°No, no way.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s one of the best investors in the country,¡± Cole says. ¡°You don¡¯t think he¡¯ll ept?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure of that, no. He¡¯s been distant for years, and he¡¯s never in Seattle. He really only cares about making money.¡±


    Nick raises an eyebrow. ¡°And that would be a bad thing how?¡±


    I run a hand over my face. Having Liam¡¯s smug face around on the regr¡­ ¡°Mixing family and business never ends well.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d take the heat off of that,¡± Cole says. ¡°Any bad news woulde from us.¡±


    ¡°Think about it,¡± Nick offers. ¡°It¡¯s your call, in the end. We just figured it might be a good solution.¡±


    ¡°Right. Thanks.¡± I look past the two of them to the tennis court in the distance, the perfectly mowedwn, the impossible homeliness of Cole¡¯s pce.


    ¡°Why are you so morose, anyway? I thought you¡¯d dance at this suggestion,¡± Cole says. ¡°The girls are all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, absolutely.¡± I run a hand over the back of my neck. ¡°Man, it¡¯s such a fucking clusterfuck of things. I don¡¯t even know where to start.¡±


    ¡°Start at the beginning,¡± Nick says.


    But that¡¯s impossible.


    The girl next door tricked me into bing a father again. She actually lied to me about who she was the entire time, too. Fun, right?N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    There¡¯s no way I can pour out all of my embarrassment on a silver tter and share it with them, not while it still feels like it might choke me.


    ¡°It¡¯s Be,¡± I say simply. ¡°She wasn¡¯t who I thought she was.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Cole¡¯s voice is delicate. ¡°Should have recognized the look on your face right away.¡±


    ¡°You wore it yourself long enough,¡± Nick tells him.


    Cole holds up a hand. ¡°You wore it the longest out of all of us. Just because I couldn¡¯t recognize it at the time doesn¡¯t make it less of a fact.¡±


    Nick ignores his future brother-inw and turns to me. ¡°Not who you thought she was? That girl was as transparent as ss, man.¡±


    ¡°And she clearly liked you,¡± Cole says. ¡°Sweet, too.¡±


    ¡°Have you tried saying you¡¯re sorry?¡± Nick asks. ¡°Hurts like a motherfucker to admit, but it does the trick every time, even when you¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t need to hear thest part,¡± Cole remarks.


    I grit my teeth at their well-meaning advice. ¡°There¡¯s no solution to this. She¡¯s a bit of a maniptor.¡±


    ¡°Be?¡± Cole asks. ¡°We¡¯re talking about the same girl who blushed when we joked about how you were both single?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 55

    I reach for theputer on the table. ¡°Don¡¯t we have an investmentpany to create?¡±


    They exchange a nce, and the conversation about my morose state is thankfully left behind. Not forgotten, though. No doubt they¡¯ll ask again, and again, and again, until I¡¯ll finally be forced to relive the entire humiliating ordeal.


    Transparent as ss.


    I¡¯d thought so too, once, watching her cheeks flush beautifully.


    Turns out she lied with her body too.


    I pace back and forth in my new living room. It¡¯s a fairly simple thing to do, considering it¡¯s the size of a shoebox and still unfurnished. Get a couch is currently number seven on my list of tasks, right under things like research pre-natal vitamins and tell my friends and family I¡¯m pregnant, but above such trivial things like buying renter¡¯s insurance.


    Ethan is going to hate it. The surefire knowledge only adds to my pace as I try to wear down a path on the linoleum floor. He¡¯d texted that he specifically wanted to see where I¡¯m living, and I didn¡¯t see the point in denying him that. His kid would live here too.


    The apartment might be tiny, but it¡¯s still a godsend. I¡¯d contacted thendlord seven minutes after the post appeared online, and Trina and I had been there bright and early the next morning.


    She¡¯d rolled her eyes when I¡¯d told her it had charm. I think you need to look up the dictionary definition of that word, she¡¯d said.


    But I can see potential in these walls, in the corridor-like kitchen and the bedroom that¡¯s just big enough to fit both a bed and a crib. It¡¯s just under my budget, which is good, because I¡¯ll need every penny I can when the baby gets here.


    ¡°Our baby,¡± I tell my stomach. It¡¯s still mostly t, but when I press my fingers against it, it feels harder-almost like I¡¯ve grown abs. ¡°Your father is going to love you,¡± I say, ¡°even if he¡¯ll never love me. No worries on that score, though. Won¡¯t ever hold it against you.¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    It¡¯ll take years until my baby will be able to reply, but the conversation still feels reassuring-like we¡¯re in this together.


    I look at my phone to check the time. He¡¯ste. He¡¯s neverte. A loop back down to the mirror, yes, my hair still looks good, I return to the living room to pace. It¡¯s not a particrly good way to pass the time, but the knot of nerves in my stomach won¡¯t let me rx.


    The doorbell rings and I open my front door with the greatest pretense of calm I¡¯ve ever managed to pull off.


    Ethan¡¯s green eyes meet mine. ¡°Hey,¡± he says.


    ¡°Hi.¡± I take a step to the side. ¡°Come on in.¡±


    He steps past me into the apartment. The scent of him hits me, familiar shampoo and sweater and man. I knot my hands together in front of me.


    ¡°This is the ce,¡± I say, clearing my throat.


    He looks around, his facepletely devoid of his usual easy smile. It¡¯s clear in the silence that he sees the things I¡¯ve tried to ignore. The cracked paint. The crooked windowsill. The giant stain on the floor.


    ¡°You¡¯re renting this?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s centrally located, has loads of natural light, and a parking spot.¡±


    I sound like a realtor.


    Ethan nods once, striding through to the kitchen. He eyes the rickety chairs and kitchen table like he¡¯s spotted an adversary in a boxing ring. One second, two seconds, but then he surrenders and has a seat on one of them. His long legs barely fit in the space.


    ¡°Have a seat,¡± he tells me, like it¡¯s not my kitchen and my rickety kitchen chairs. ¡°We have things to discuss.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we do.¡± I sit down opposite him and sp my hands together on the table, like we¡¯re about to have a business meeting. ¡°Have you researched St John¡¯s Wort? That it can interfere with birth control?¡±


    His jaw works, but his reply is smooth. ¡°I have. It can.¡±


    The tone makes it clear that he still doesn¡¯t believe me-that he can¡¯t let go of his suspicion that this was premeditated. For the love of God, he had been the least premeditated thing I¡¯d ever done in my life!


    ¡°Have you been for a check-up yet?¡± he asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m going tomorrow, actually. I¡¯m six weeks along now.¡± Six weeks of being pregnant, six weeks since I¡¯d been in his arms and he¡¯d looked at me like¡­ like we had a future.


    Like we could have a life together.


    ¡°Good.¡± Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulls out a folded wad of papers. Unfolding it, he startsying out documents on the table, one after one. ¡°Mywyers have been working on these the past few weeks,¡± he says. ¡°Would you be okay with joint custody?¡±


    I swallow. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay for all of the medical expenses, birth, health insurance, all of that, both for you and the child.¡± Another document pushed over to my side. ¡°Schooling and college as well. Money will be made avable in a trust, only essible by me or by the child, when theye of age.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± My voice sounds feeble, lost in the explosion of legalese and documents on my wobbly table. Perhaps it¡¯ll crumble under the weight-I feel like I might.


    ¡°A monthly allowance for you. I don¡¯t want my child or the mother of my child to live in a ce like this.¡±


    ¡°A monthly allowance?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He pushes another piece of paper over to me. There are numbers on it, one highlighted in bold, but I can¡¯t pay attention to that. Not when it feels like I¡¯m losing my dignity and my heart at the same time, both of them sliding further and further out of my grasp.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want a penny,¡± I say.


    He grits his teeth. ¡°Be.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t, truly. I don¡¯t want an allowance, or for you to dictate where I live.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stubborn about this.¡±


    ¡°Stubborn? How can I not be? This was never what I wanted. This, between you and me. Documents and coldness and¡­ and¡­ monthly allowances. Don¡¯t you think I know that you¡¯re only doing this because you have to, but you¡¯d rather it never happened?¡± I shake my head. ¡°But I can¡¯t feel that way. This pregnancy was aplete surprise to me. I¡¯m scared senseless, I have no idea what I¡¯ll tell my parents or my friends, or what to do with school. The only thing I know is that I want to give this child everything I can.¡± My throat is closing, but I force the rest out, too. ¡°Nothing has changed for me, Ethan. I still hope you¡¯ll forgive me.¡±


    He closes his eyes, like the tears clouding my vision are too hard to face. ¡°Be, you lied to me. About who you are. About your birth control.¡±


    ¡°Not about birth control,¡± I whisper. ¡°And never about who I am. I¡¯m a graduate student. I like to bake. I¡¯m a tolerably good hiker. For Christ¡¯s sake, I want to work as a systems engineer-you know that, Ethan. Why would I want to be pregnant in the middle of that?¡±


    He shakes his head once. ¡°You know exactly why.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not Lyra,¡± I say. My tears have given way to a startling, righteous anger. How dare he think I¡¯d put myself in this position just for money? ¡°I¡¯m just not. So stopparing me to her.¡±


    His eyes open with clear irritation. ¡°Why the first lie, then? Why pretend to be their niece?¡±


    ¡°I have asked myself the same question over and over these past few weeks. I was nervous and flustered and you were, well, you, and you suggested that and it sounded good. I gave a half-nod and then I was trapped, and I was too embarassed to set the record straight after that. It¡¯s honestly just as stupid as it sounds.¡±


    ¡°You want me to believe that, but Be¡­¡± He pushes away from the table, his chair creaking ominously. The alleyway kitchen looks minuscule with him braced in between the cupboards. ¡°I can¡¯t, okay? I just can¡¯t.¡±


    Despair and anger, both in equal measure, threaten to choke off my words altogether. Getting them out should earn me a medal. ¡°I lied about being their niece. I¡¯ll always be sorry about that. But I didn¡¯t lie about birth control, and I don¡¯t want your money. That has never been part of why I care about you.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 56

    His shoulders are tense, like he¡¯s preparing for blows, but he¡¯s not moving toward the door. Not yet. ¡°You¡¯re entirely too likable on your own,¡± I tell him. ¡°You¡¯re a fantastic father. You¡¯re brilliant at what you do at work. And you¡¯re so funny. No one makes meugh like you do.¡±


    My words hang in the air between us, him not moving, me not speaking. My heart feels like it¡¯s about to beat out of my chest.


    It breaks him out of the spell. He strides out to the living room, right to the front door. It doesn¡¯t take him many steps.


    I follow. ¡°I was with my ex for six years,¡± I tell him, wrapping my arms around my chest, trying to keep myself from unraveling. ¡°And I thought I loved him-I thought I knew what love was. But I was wrong, because being with you, Ethan¡­ it felt likeing home.¡±


    He¡¯s still not looking at me; his hand is on the doorknob. The words might feel like theye from the very bottom of my soul, but there¡¯s no telling if they¡¯re even reaching him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave me alone in this.¡± My voice breaks, but I¡¯m beyond embarrassment. ¡°I don¡¯t want your checks. I want you toe to my doctor¡¯s appointments with me.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    He shakes his head once. ¡°Damn it, Be, I can¡¯t.¡±


    I grip hold of his arm with both my hands, willing him to look at me. ¡°What can I do to make you trust me again? What can I say?¡±


    His voice sounds just as defeated as mine. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Be. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    He pulls the front door open and my hands fall limp to my sides. It closes with a decisive snap behind him as he leaves, taking my hope that I¡¯d one day be forgiven away with him.


    ¡°Grandma! Look at me!¡± Haven crouches down on the grass, tucking her legs and arms underneath her. ¡°Evie?¡±


    Her younger sister obediently puts the two stic crowns on Haven¡¯s back, the golden crests upwards. ¡°Look! What am I?¡±


    My mother squints at her oldest grandchild. ¡°A royal stone? A stone queen?¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°Are you a hedgehog?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s her new favorite animal,¡± I stage-whisper to Mom. Louder, ¡°that was very inventive, honey!¡±


    She tosses the crowns off and grins. Evie grabs one of them and runs off, shrieking, looking behind her to make sure Haven is giving chase. She is.


    I take a deep sip of my ss of lemonade. Maria¡¯s recipe, and just as invaluable as Maria herself. She¡¯s sitting down the table from us, tucked under the parasol, a book in hand. I can tell she¡¯s watching the girls over the top edge of the page.


    ¡°A hedgehog,¡± Momments. ¡°Of all the possible animals.¡±


    ¡°The week before it was a hippopotamus.¡±


    ¡°Goodness. You need to get these girls a pet. Something fluffy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that when they can hear. Haven¡¯s been pushing Operation Canine since, well, she learned to speak.¡±


    ¡°A hamster,¡± my mother suggests. ¡°Small, furry. It¡¯ll tide them over until you have time for a dog.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll never have time for a dog.¡± I take another deep sip of the icy drink. With work and now another child on the way¡­ no time at all.


    Be had her check-upst week. I¡¯d called her after, our conversation brief and focused on the child. Everything looked good, she¡¯d told me. Healthy heartbeat.


    I¡¯d shut myself in my office after that phone call, my head in my hands with emotion. Healthy heartbeat. Another baby. My baby.


    I blink, refocusing. ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a million miles away.¡± My mother clucks her tongue, the way she did when I was young. It¡¯s been twenty years since I¡¯ve heard that sound. ¡°I just asked if you¡¯ve heard anything from Liam since he visited?¡±


    ¡°No, nothing.¡±


    She frowns, shaking her head. ¡°Weird.¡±


    My little brother¡¯s frequent absences andck ofmunication is a sore point for us both, but I know it hits her harder. ¡°He¡¯ll probably visit again soon. He often has business here, after all.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re probably right.¡± She raises a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. ¡°I thought I¡¯d see Be today again. The neighbor girl?¡±


    A billion different responses race through my head. ¡°She¡¯s moved away,¡± I say finally.


    ¡°Well, not out of the city?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I can sense her frowning at me, but I keep my gaze locked on my kids ying in the treehouse.


    ¡°They had a fight,¡± Maria offers, without looking up from her book. ¡°They¡¯re not talking.¡±


    Oh, Lord. ¡°No, we-¡±


    ¡°A fight?¡± my mother asks. ¡°Ethan, what could possibly have been big enough to justify a falling out? Fix it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not-¡±


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t been happy since,¡± Maria supplies, ratting me out to my mother. I shoot her a warning re, but she ignores me soundly, flipping the page of her book. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened.¡±


    ¡°Ethan, exin yourself,¡± my mother demands.


    I look up at the sky and take a deep breath-save me from the meddling of women.


    ¡°She turned out to be more like Lyra than I¡¯d expected,¡± I say, wincing internally at the memory of the quiet tears running down her cheeksst time we met. Lyra never did that, except in fits of dramatics.


    Maria scoffs.


    Mom just raises her eyebrows. ¡°Ethan, you can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m dead serious.¡±


    ¡°That girl didn¡¯t have a single maniptive bone in her body. What¡¯s worse, she seemed like the kind of person who could be manipted!¡±


    I grit my teeth. ¡°Trust me when I say that she does.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t, not until I hear the full story.¡± Her voice is the same one I¡¯m using-the one that brooks no argument. Carter stubbornness in action, and it¡¯s a face-off. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Maria puts down her book and heads down to where the kids are. Effortlessly giving us privacy.

 Billion Dollar Catch 57

    I clear my throat. ¡°She lied about who she was. She said she was the neighbor¡¯s niece when she was actually hired to house-sit for the summer and take care of the cat.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± my mother says, and a whole world is contained in that word.


    ¡°Just say what you¡¯re going to say.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll say that she was probably intimidated. I know you don¡¯t always think so, sweetie, but you¡¯re sometimes rather impressive. Has she apologized for it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Profusely, actually. And exined it. And on some level, perhaps I could understand it-that lie, anyway.


    ¡°And?¡± Mom asks. ¡°That¡¯s it? That¡¯s the whole reason you¡¯re not talking?¡±This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    I shake my head, my teeth grinding together. No one, I¡¯ve told no one, and it¡¯s¡­ well. It¡¯s too much to keep to myself.


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s pregnant.¡±


    My mother is silent. The times I manage to strike her speechless are rare, but I don¡¯t take any pleasure from this particr moment.


    Her eyes are wide. ¡°You¡¯re having another child?¡±


    ¡°Unnned, but yes.¡±


    Her eyes grow hazy with tears, the widest smile spreading over her face. I can¡¯t help it-I smile too.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± she says, ¡°another grandchild. A baby! And how was that not the first thing you told me today, Ethan? You let me babble on about Liam and my book club and groceries!¡±


    Iugh, reaching over to hug her. ¡°Mom, it¡¯s still early days, and it¡¯splicated.¡±


    ¡°This part is very simple, though. You¡¯re having another kid. Are you happy?¡±


    I haven¡¯t really thought about it in those terms. Happy. But when I don¡¯t let my thoughts speak and just listen to what¡¯s inside me¡­ ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Really happy, actually.¡±


    Mom wipes at her eyes. ¡°Why on Earth isn¡¯t Be here? Move her in with you! What are you waiting for?¡±


    Ah.


    ¡°She said she was on birth control,¡± I say. ¡°Clearly, she lied.¡±


    My mom grows still. ¡°Did she tell you that?¡±


    ¡°She denies that she nned it, of course. Says she took some herbal medication at the same time that interfered, something called St. John¡¯s Wort.¡± I shake my head, turning away from the look in my mom¡¯s eyes. ¡°But I won¡¯t be dragged into the same arrangement as with Lyra. The kid, I¡¯m happy about. Not Be.¡±


    Thwap. My mom hits me on the back of the head, and not gently, either. ¡°Ouch. What was that for?¡±


    ¡°For being an idiot,¡± Mom says. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that the girl I met-who was clearly keen to make a good impression on me, and on you, I might add, looking at you like she thought you¡¯d hung the moon-is somewhere in the city all alone, thinking you hate her? The mother of my future grandchild?¡±


    ¡°Erhm. Yes, I suppose.¡±


    She leans away from me, arms crossing over her chest. Rare are the times I¡¯ve seen her truly angry. ¡°Did you investigate? Ask her OB/GYN to confirm any of her story? Or did you jump straight to your own conclusions?¡±


    Damn it. ¡°Mom, she lied.¡±


    ¡°About some things, but not about all. And now you¡¯ve left her on her own to deal with a mistake that the two of you made together.¡±


    ¡°I know how-¡±


    ¡°I never thought I¡¯d have to have this discussion with you. You¡¯re thirty-six years old!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware of that, but-¡±


    ¡°You were interviewed in the newspaperst month! A full-page spread!¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re letting Lyra win if you do this.¡± She puts her finger n my chest, the eyes I¡¯ve inherited staring back at me. ¡°She was one woman. She doesn¡¯t speak for all of us. And I¡¯d bet my finest racehorse that the only thing Be has inmon with Lyra is her gender.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a racehorse-that¡¯s not an expression.¡± I run a hand through my hair, looking away from her. Her words are hitting too close to a truth I¡¯m desperate to believe in.


    ¡°I might. What do you know?¡± Mom huffs out an annoyed breath. ¡°Tell me more about her. What was she like?¡±


    ¡°She was very good with the girls,¡± I say. ¡°Even when she clearly had no clue what to do, she was good.¡± In the distance, Evie shrieks withughter, the sound like a balm to my senses.


    Mom leans back in her chair, knotting her fingers together in herp, like they¡¯ve done all the pointing they¡¯ve needed to today. ¡°What else?¡±


    I wet my lips. Wonder if I¡¯ve chosen the worst possible person to confide in. ¡°She was kind. Truly kind, not the polite type of kind.¡±


    ¡°She was?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And funny. Quietly strong, too, the kind of brave you don¡¯t see, but it¡¯s there, underneath the surface.¡± I bury my head in my hands, arms braced against the patio table. ¡°Christ. Have I really gotten it all wrong? Messed it uppletely?¡±


    ¡°You might¡¯ve,¡± my mother says. ¡°But if she¡¯s all that you¡¯ve just described, I think you still have time to fix it.¡±


    The running of feet breaks me out of my thoughts. Evie sprints into my arms, climbing onto myp. I lift her up.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, baby girl?¡±


    ¡°Daddy¡¯s sad again,¡± she says, her weight warm in my arms. ¡°I could see.¡±


    ¡°Daddy¡¯s not sad,¡± I protest.


    ¡°He¡¯s just contemting his past failings,¡± my mother murmurs.


    I nce at her, but she just shrugs, unrepentant.


    Evie puts her hand on my cheek. ¡°Not sad anymore,¡± she deres. ¡°Come y with us?¡±


    I stand, bouncing her a little bit in my arms. ¡°Sure. Are we ying magical treehouse?¡±


    Walking down thewn with her, I make a decision. Honesty. That¡¯s what I¡¯d always tried to adopt with my kids, and perhaps it¡¯s time I started extending that value a bit further. ¡°Evie?¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 58

    ¡°What do you think of Be?¡±


    ¡°Really nice.¡±


    ¡°Nice?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And good cookies.¡±


    ¡°She makes good cookies, yes, that¡¯s true.¡± I smooth a honey-brown curl back from her forehead, my mind racing ahead. ¡°What would you think of hering over more often?¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Wilma breathes. The amazement on her face doesn¡¯t seem fake, either-does she really find this picture as fascinating as I do?


    ¡°It¡¯s amazing, right?¡±


    ¡°It really is.¡± She puts the picture down between us on the floor, as I¡¯m still sans couch, and we both stare at the ck-and-white sonogram. ¡°I¡¯m still in shock, Bells.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so am I! I still can¡¯t grasp that that little girl is inside me,¡± I say. ¡°Or guy, I suppose. And it¡¯s so early still. My OB/GYN told me it¡¯ll look much more like a babyter on.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know they did ultrasounds this early,¡± Wilma says. ¡°Well, to be fair, I don¡¯t know anything at all about pregnancies. I know your belly gets big, and I know theyst for nine months, but that¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right on all three counts, actually. It¡¯s early for an ultrasound, but I think it¡¯s because of Ethan¡¯s health n.¡± His name only burns a little on the way out. ¡°The new clinic I¡¯m at is fantastic.¡±


    ¡°Has he seen the picture?¡±


    ¡°No. I considered sending it to him, but I also asked him toe to the check-up with me, and he didn¡¯t.¡±


    Wilma lies back on the floor with a dramatic sigh. ¡°The man is an idiot.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°The problem is that he isn¡¯t, though. He¡¯s probably been retracing all of our conversations and finding patterns to fit his theory.¡±


    ¡°You can be a clever idiot.¡±


    ¡°Something you know from experience?¡±


    Wilma lifts her head briefly to stick her tongue out at me, before settling back down. ¡°You can¡¯t tell me you aren¡¯t angry with him, Be. You can¡¯t possibly be handling this as serenely as you seem to be. I know you-and you¡¯re not one to back down from a fight. Wow, this crack in your ceiling is legit.¡±


    I nce up. ¡°I called thendlord about it, but he said it was part of the old building charm.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not so charming when old buildingse down around you and you¡¯re buried in rubble.¡±


    ¡°No hating on my home.¡±


    ¡°Calling it a home is a bit of a stretch,¡± Wilma points out. ¡°And don¡¯t deflect. You¡¯re angry at him?¡±


    I keep my eyes on the wide fissure in the ster and try to keep my own cracks at bay. ¡°He¡¯s dismissing everything we had because of this pregnancy. It¡¯s like he¡¯s seeing what he wants to see, instead of the truth. Of course I¡¯m angry at him.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Wilma¡¯s voice is determined. ¡°Better angry than sad.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m both.¡±


    ¡°Both is also good.¡±


    ¡°Have you started studying psychology and not told me about it?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m just an armchair expert. Do you have any dreams? I could interpret those.¡±


    ¡°Sadly, I¡¯m all out.¡±


    ¡°Dang.¡± She looks down at her watch. ¡°Trina should be here soon with the take-out.¡±


    ¡°Awesome.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to point out the crack in the ceiling to her.¡±


    I groan, because Trina is an architect student. ¡°You know exactly what she¡¯ll say.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Wilma says, relish in her voice. ¡°She¡¯ll say it¡¯s structurally unsound. But look at it this way-she might be able to get yourndlord to lower the rent on those grounds.¡±


    ¡°Yippie. Also, what the heck am I going to tell my parents? You¡¯re very wee toe up with suggestions.¡±


    ¡°Theye to town next month, right?¡±


    ¡°Tell them the truth,¡± Wilma says, grinning at my expression. ¡°Yes, they might have apoplexies, but what else can you do?¡±


    ¡°Conceal it for eighteen years, never visit, be-¡±


    The sound of my phone ringing echoes through the still mostly empty living room. I reach for my bag, thrown by the front door.


    ¡°Ten bucks it¡¯s Trina who can¡¯t remember our take-out orders,¡± Wilma says.


    I chuckle, fingers closing around my phone. But the name on my screen isn¡¯t our friend at all.


    ¡°It¡¯s Ethan.¡±


    Wilma straightens. ¡°Shit.¡±


    My heart in my throat, I answer. ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°Hi.¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ¡°We have a lot to talk about,¡± he says. ¡°Are you home? Can Ie up?¡±


    ¡°Now? Like, right now?¡±


    Wilma¡¯s eyes widen, and then she¡¯s nodding. Yes, she mouths.


    ¡°Yes, now.¡± Ethan¡¯s voice is the embodiment of polite, cool professionalism. ¡°Unless you¡¯re busy, in which case I cane backter.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 59

    You¡¯re not busy, Wilma mouths, already standing to grab her purse. I wave at her. Stay. But she shakes her head.


    ¡°Okay. Yeah, okay. Are you downstairs?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in the area. I¡¯ll be there soon.¡±


    He hangs up without another word. I sit staring at my phone, my heart racing. It isn¡¯t until Wilma heads to the front door that Ie to. ¡°He wants to talk.¡±


    ¡°I heard,¡± she says. ¡°Be, this is great.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s probably about contracts. I didn¡¯t sign them thest time.¡±


    She put a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Whatever it is, just remember that you have the right to be angry, to be furious, to be sad, anything and all of that.¡±


    ¡°Good luck, babe. And call me immediately after.¡±


    She disappears down the hallway, the low heels of her boots steady on the floor. They¡¯re far steadier than the beat of my heart.


    I snatch the sonogram picture from the floor and clutch it to my chest. It feels like armor-like my strength. Funny, that. In so short a time my life has reoriented itself entirely around this child, like a changing its source of gravity.


    Ethan had to be close, because I¡¯m still sitting on the floor when he knocks. In his hands is a Tupperware box with small, irregr chocte squares.


    They disrupt my thoughts-I don¡¯t even say hello. ¡°You brought brownies?¡±


    ¡°The girls and I baked them this morning.¡± And then, perhaps because he can¡¯t resist, he adds, ¡°Maria didn¡¯t help us.¡±


    I take it from him. ¡°Impressive.¡±


    ¡°Marginally, perhaps.¡± Ethan¡¯s eyes slide from mine to the image I¡¯m clutching, and the faint smile fades from his face.


    ¡°Is that¡­?¡±


    ¡°Can I see?¡±


    I hand it to him, and for a long moment he just studies it, a finger tracing the small shape. For some reason the sight of him clutching the tiny picture makes me want to cry. I swallow the emotion down.


    ¡°It¡¯s really hard to make her out yet,¡± I murmur. ¡°It¡¯ll be clearer on the next ultrasound.¡±


    Ethan nods, and I realize I¡¯d forgotten that he¡¯s done this before, that of the two of us he¡¯s the one with more experience. ¡°A girl?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. Too early to tell, but I just think of the baby as a girl.¡± In my head, she already has Ethan¡¯s honey-brown hair and green eyes, fitting in with her older sisters.


    Ethan just looks at the image, his head bowed. I rock back on my heels and can¡¯t help but notice the circles under his eyes, the unusually tousled thickness of his hair.


    ¡°Be,¡± he says finally, his gaze meeting mine. ¡°I don¡¯t know where to begin.¡±


    I swallow. ¡°Why don¡¯t you begin at the beginning?¡±This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°How pragmatic.¡±


    ¡°Engineering student,¡± I say, the old joke slipping out.


    His lip curls. ¡°Engineer.¡±


    Hope soars inside me.


    He hands back the picture, but there¡¯s reluctance in the gesture. ¡°I can send you a copy,¡± I say.


    ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±


    Sounding more sure than I feel, I slip my hands into the pockets of my slightly-too-snug jeans. ¡°Starting at the beginning, huh?¡±


    ¡°How far back are we talking here?¡±


    He rubs the back of his neck. ¡°I¡¯ll fast forward from the Big Bang, but pretty far back.¡±


    ¡°I really wish you had a couch.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be one of those conversations, huh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it might be.¡± Ethan looks up at the ceiling, exhaling, like he¡¯s gathering strength. And then, ¡°Do you know there¡¯s a gigantic crack in your ceiling?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not important.¡±


    ¡°It strikes me as very important.¡±


    ¡°The ce is safe. They wouldn¡¯t rent it otherwise.¡±


    His scoff tells me he thinks I¡¯m an idiot. ¡°Landlords do plenty of shadier things than that. And you refused to let me find you a better ce to live?¡±


    I cross my arms over my chest. ¡°You can¡¯t ask me to ept your charity. Knowing what you think of me, too? Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°Be, I don¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°It was basically charity.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯ve been an ass.¡± Ethan spreads his arms wide, and like his frame, like his voice, they fill the small space. ¡°From the second Lyra called me to tell me the Gardners had no niece, I¡¯ve been an ass.¡±


    I blink. ¡°That¡¯s starting from the beginning?¡±


    ¡°No. I got distracted.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°For so long after Lyra, I shut down. I wasn¡¯t¡­ I didn¡¯t look for love. I hadn¡¯t looked for it actively before her, and after that, well¡­ There were women, but nothingsted, because I never allowed it to.


    ¡°And then you walked over with those damn fudge brownies. And I wanted you, even though I knew I shouldn¡¯t let myself.¡±


    I have to swallow before I can speak. ¡°Because you thought you couldn¡¯t offer me a rtionship?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And it wasn¡¯t because of ack of time, or because of the girls.¡± He puts a hand to his chest. ¡°It¡¯s because I wouldn¡¯t let you in. Not really. But you didn¡¯t walk away. You kepting, as irresistible as you¡¯d been the first time, and I decided the risk was worth it. Because I knew there was a risk, and in the back of my mind, I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.¡±


    I wrap my arms around myself. ¡°And then it did.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 60

    He nods. ¡°And then it did. And it was like a confirmation of everything I already knew, that rtionships weren¡¯t for me, that women weren¡¯t to be trusted. But lost in that realization as I was, I left you alone with this, and I¡¯m more sorry than I can say. It¡¯s inexcusable.¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°You¡¯re right. This is a couch conversation.¡±


    Hisughter is short, surprised. ¡°Told you it was.¡±


    ¡°Ethan, what you thought I did was pretty inexcusable, too.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being too kind to me again,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve been an ass. Be angry at me.¡±


    ¡°I have been.¡±


    ¡°But not just at you. At myself, too. At your ex-wife for putting these thoughts in your head.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the one who listened to them. But I won¡¯t, not again, not where you¡¯re concerned.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to have to learn to trust each other again. It won¡¯t be an overnight thing, but we have to.¡± And then, because I haven¡¯t said it before, and because I can¡¯t resist, ¡°We¡¯re going to be parents together, you know.¡±


    And the answering smile on his face makes the knot inside me loosen. ¡°We are.¡±


    ¡°And I n on being very, very, very involved,¡± I add. ¡°Comparatively speaking, you know.¡±


    ¡°To my ex-wife?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.¡± Ethan steps closer, the solid wall of him now inches away. ¡°That¡¯s not all I came here to say.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not?¡±


    ¡°No. But the next part mighte off as a bit desperate.¡±


    Iugh, pushing my hair back. My emotions feel scattered and my defenses flown wide. ¡°I¡¯ll try not to judge.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says, mock serious, and then actually serious, as he reaches up and catches a stray tendril of my hair between his fingers. ¡°The truth is that I¡¯ve missed you, Be. What you said about needing to learn to trust is right. We need to re-learn one another again. We need¡­ well, I need to have you close.¡±


    A thousand responses flit through my mind. Some kind, some sappy, some¡­ well. ¡°More papers for me to sign?¡±


    ¡°Christ no, not now, not ever.¡±


    ¡°I would, though. Whatever you need to feel secure.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s hand flits to my chin, tilting my head upwards. The space between us feels like it¡¯s alive, humming with anticipation and closeness. It¡¯s been weeks since we touchedst.


    Weeks.


    ¡°Do you think you can forgive me, Be?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I murmur. ¡°Because you¡¯re toote. I already have.¡±


    A smile ghosts across his lips. ¡°My heart damn near stopped after the first word.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. Is that dangerous for a man of your age?¡±


    His smile is full-blown now. ¡°Teasing me while we¡¯re having this conversation is very unsportsmanlike. I can¡¯t retaliate at the moment, not while I¡¯m begging.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯ll behave.¡±


    ¡°Please try to.¡± His thumb smooths over my lower lip, the roughness soft over my skin. ¡°Move in with me, Be. With us.¡±


    My breathes out in a surprised huff.This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    ¡°I know I¡¯m asking a lot,¡± he says. ¡°What I told you about having little to offer wasn¡¯t entirely self-defense, after all. Ie with two energetic kids, aplicated, pain-in-the-ass ex-wife, workaholic tendencies, and plenty of trust issues.¡±


    ¡°And a very nice treehouse,¡± I murmur. ¡°Youe with that too.¡±


    ¡°Is that a selling point?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡± I wet my lips. ¡°What about the girls, though? What would they say?¡±


    ¡°They love you,¡± he says, hand cupping my cheek. I fight the urge to lean in to the warm touch. ¡°They have since you first met them. But we¡¯ll go slow, for all of our sakes.¡±


    I grip his shirt, as if to make sure he¡¯s real. Everything he¡¯s saying¡­ it¡¯s what I¡¯ve wanted to hear for weeks. ¡°Ethan, I need to know. Is this just because I¡¯m pregnant? It¡¯s okay if it is. I¡¯d understand that. But I need to know where we stand, the two of us.¡±


    ¡°I deserve that question,¡± he murmurs. ¡°I¡¯ll admit that the baby forced me to reconsider certain things. Without that, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d have worked through this as quickly as I have. It would have been¡­ easy, so to speak, to dismiss you and not open up. But even if you hadn¡¯t been pregnant¡­¡±


    He looks away, something like embarrassment crossing his face. ¡°I got annoyed at Maria for changing my sheets, the ones you¡¯d slept in.¡±


    ¡°And I couldn¡¯t eat a baked good without thinking about you. Looking for you on my morning runs. It might have taken me longer toe around without the baby, but I would¡¯ve, Be. I missed you too much.¡±


    My hands tten against his chest, soaking up the feel of him. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it? My grand deration, and I get an oh?¡±


    I tap my index finger against him. ¡°Patience, Ethan.¡±


    He gives a long-suffering sigh, but there¡¯s something else in his eyes. Tentative happiness-hope. ¡°I¡¯ve never been good at that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve missed you too,¡± I say. ¡°More than I expected, and far more than was good for me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m selfishly very d to hear that.¡± His other handes up, tangling in my hair. ¡°What about my question? Will I get an answer to that?¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°I already said I forgive you.¡±


    ¡°No, baby. About moving in.¡±


    It¡¯s not fair, asking me that with his mouth so close to mine. ¡°In time,¡± I murmur.

 Billion Dollar Catch 61

    ¡°Hmm. I¡¯ll take that, for now.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I stretch up on my tiptoes. ¡°Because that¡¯s all you¡¯re getting. For now.¡±


    He bends his head, warm breath against my mouth. The faint pause is a delicious thing. I¡¯m the one who breaks it, pressing my lips to his. They¡¯re warm and soft and as he kisses me, it¡¯s likeing home.


    Several weekster


    Be flips over to thest page. ¡°And this section? You didn¡¯t have anyments on this one.¡±


    I skim through the final paragraphs. ¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s excellent.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re not just saying that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not just saying that. I¡¯ve been honest with the feedback so far, haven¡¯t I?¡±


    She nods, her fingers stroking down the page of her thesis. With only weeks until it¡¯s due, Be is polishing and re-polishing and re-re-polishing. ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± I tell her. ¡°A few final adjustments, but after that, it¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me to stop tinkering with it.¡±


    I chuckle, rising from the kitchen table. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying. Do you want more frozen yogurt?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an enabler,¡± she says. But she holds out her bowl. I mix the vors she likes from the freezer and when I return, I scoot my chair close to hers.


    ¡°Pregnantdies get what pregnantdies want.¡±


    She hums in displeasure around her spoon.


    ¡°Pregnantdies. I sound so old.¡±


    ¡°You will be a mother in a few short months,¡± I point out.


    ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s the fun kind of old.¡±


    I roll my eyes at her. ¡°You¡¯ll be a young mom,paratively. Twenty-four is well below the national average.¡±


    Be takes another bite of the fro-yo. Her hair is braided down her back, but little tendrils have escaped, framing the beautiful cream of her skin. My hand aches, wanting to reach out and pull her close.


    But we¡¯ve been good so far.


    Very, very, very good. She hasn¡¯t made any signs that she wants more than asional kisses, and I haven¡¯t pushed.


    Trust. Time. Go slow.


    It¡¯s driving me insane, but I¡¯m sticking to the program.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know when I should start applying for jobs. I¡¯ll be done with my studies right around the time this little guyes out.¡± She puts a hand on her tummy, beautifully rounded. ¡°It seems pointless to start until a while after that, but¡­¡±


    ¡°You have time,¡± I say. ¡°All the time in the world, in fact.¡±


    Her gaze locks with mine. This is getting close to things we haven¡¯t discussed yet, things like money and the future of our rtionship.


    I¡¯ll never offer her a contract again, but she¡¯ll never want for anything-not if she¡¯ll let me take care of her. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve wanted to take care of anyone except my daughters, but with Be, the desire is bone deep.


    ¡°I want to work,¡± she says. ¡°Eventually, after the baby. It¡¯s what I studied for.¡±


    ¡°Of course you do. It would be a shame for the industry, too, to lose someone like you.¡± I tap her thesis on the table. ¡°It¡¯s not quite Nobel-prize worthy, but it¡¯s close.¡±


    Be rolls her eyes, smiling. ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Yes. A tad biased, too.¡±


    A sound upstairs. Be pauses, and we both wait for the footsteps down the stairs. They don¡¯te.


    ¡°Evie sometimes knocks things off her bedside table,¡± I say. ¡°She¡¯s a very active sleeper.¡±


    ¡°Ninja dreamer.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. I¡¯ll go check on her.¡±


    Be nods, diving deep into her dessert. I pause with my hand on the back of her chair. ¡°It¡¯ste. Stay the night?¡±


    ¡°If your master n is that I¡¯ll sleep in the guest room so often that I eventually forget I have my own apartment, just know that I¡¯m on to you.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are,¡± I say. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not working.¡±


    Be smiles up at me. Pregnancy has given her a near-perpetual flush in her cheeks, and something about her eyes, her hair¡­ it¡¯s different, subtle, beyond the more obvious changes in her body. Impossibly, she¡¯s even more beautiful.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°It¡¯s a brilliant n,¡± she says.


    ¡°One you should stop actively opposing.¡±


    Her handes to rest on mine on the back of the chair. Slender, warm fingers. My body tightens at the faint contact. ¡°I¡¯ll stay the night.¡±


    ¡°Thank God. I was seconds from begging.¡±


    She shakes her head, taking her hand off mine. ¡°tterer.¡±


    ¡°The guest room is made up,¡± I add, innate politeness forcing me to. But so is my bed, I want to add. Stay with me.


    So far she hasn¡¯t. Not once.


    Andter that night, when I¡¯m lying in bed staring up at the dark ceiling, I go over all the fifteen reasons I shouldn¡¯t get out of bed and walk down the hallway to her room. Things like space and time and privacy and boundaries and trust and forgiveness and pregnancy. Lyra had hated being touched when she was pregnant-she hated being pregnant at all.


    Be has been different at every turn, but maybe¡­


    I don¡¯t dare push it. Push us. This is too important.


    But then, around midnight, someone pushes my door open just a smidge. I sit up in bed.

 Billion Dollar Catch 62

    It¡¯s Evie, her nightie bunched around a shoulder, her curls a halo around her head.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Bad dream.¡± She¡¯s half asleep, still, the way she often is the few times she wakes up in the night.


    I pull back the covers and lift her up. She curls in my bed with a sigh and I smooth a hand over her fluffy hair. She¡¯s asleep in seconds. From experience, I know the dream will be forgotten in the morning.


    All in good time, I think. For now, I have all three of my girls under the same roof, and that¡¯s more than enough.


    Be stays over once more that week. Every time she agrees feels like victory, especially since the girls love it, too. They¡¯re very hard to get into bed at a reasonable hour when Be¡¯s around to y with.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t a dog be nice around here, Be?¡± Haven asks her, ncing in my direction to make sure I¡¯m overhearing. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you just love one?¡±


    Be chuckles. It¡¯s not the first time she¡¯s been subjected to Operation Canine. ¡°A dog would be nice,¡± she says, ¡°but they¡¯re a lot of work.¡±


    Haven¡¯s smile dims. I had to give her props, though. She knows I¡¯ll do a lot to make sure Be is happy-her question had been strategic.


    I put my hand on the back of her head. ¡°Perhaps one day in the future. When you and Evie are older.¡±


    ¡°Everything is always when we¡¯re older.¡±


    ¡°Not everything,¡± I say. ¡°You used to ask for another sibling. Remember how I said ¡®maybe when you¡¯re older¡¯?¡±


    She eyes Be¡¯s tummy. The girls hadn¡¯t been able to believe there was actually a baby in there until Be started to show. Now that she does, they understand it, but they don¡¯t really have a solid conception of it.


    I¡¯m still having trouble grasping it some days, to be honest.


    ¡°Is it a boy or a girl?¡± she asks Be. It¡¯s only about the fourteenth time she¡¯s asked.


    Be musses Haven¡¯s hair. She hates it from me, but she tolerates it from Be. ¡°I still don¡¯t know. Your dad and I have decided not to find out. We won¡¯t know until he or she arrives.¡±


    Haven rolls her eyes. She doesn¡¯t understand the decision. Neither do any of our parents. But what about the gifts? Be¡¯s mother had asked me, the first time I met her. I don¡¯t know what to get!


    But Be had been firm, and I¡¯d agreed with her. This baby had been a surprise from the beginning.


    Let it be a surprise to the very end.


    That didn¡¯t mean that Be didn¡¯t suspect, only that her suspicions changed pretty much weekly. I was getting whish from keeping up with the ever-changing pronouns.


    ¡°We should head upstairs,¡± Be tells Haven. ¡°It¡¯s gettingte. We should finish the book we started yesterday.¡±


    Haven slips her newly non-casted hand into Be¡¯s and pulls her excitedly up the stairs. Her patience seems infinite. I keep waiting for the furrowed brow, the irritation, that she¡¯ll take me aside and say it¡¯s too much. Bing a first-time mom is enough for anyone-bing a stepparent at the same time¡­


    But she¡¯s neverined, and I¡¯m in awe.


    We¡¯ve just said goodnight when I hear an excited call from her bedroom. ¡°Ethan! Ethan, get in here!¡±


    I¡¯m down the hall and opening the door to her bedroom in seconds, in nothing but my boxers. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Be is sitting on the side of her bed, hair loose, a hand on her stomach. ¡°Come feel this-he¡¯s kicking.¡±


    ¡°He is?¡± I fall to my knees in front of her, putting my hand softly on her tummy. She grips my wrist and moves it slightly to the left.


    ¡°Right here,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Come on, give your dad a high five¡­¡±


    I keep my hand pressed close. She¡¯s in one of my T-shirts and her skin is warm through the thin fabric. And then I feel it. A movement, slight but unmistakable.


    Be grins down at me, tears in her eyes. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± I echo, putting my other hand on her stomach too. ¡°Do you feel it? Inside?¡±


    She nods. ¡°It¡¯s so distinct, I can¡¯t imagine what it¡¯ll be like when he¡¯s bigger¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re back to he?¡±


    She looks sheepish. ¡°Yes. I know I change my mind often, but now I¡¯m sure again.¡±


    I can¡¯t hide my smile. ¡°Do you feel okay? It doesn¡¯t hurt?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all.¡± She puts her hand on top of mine. ¡°He¡¯s stilled now. Maybe he just wanted you here.¡±


    I can¡¯t think of a single intelligent thing to reply to that.


    ¡°I know I wanted you here, at least,¡± Be continues, a blush on her cheeks. ¡°Do you think you could stay the night with me?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Dear Lord, yes.


    She scoots back up the bed, giving me a glimpse of those fair legs and a hint of purple panty, and then she disappears under the covers. I slide in behind her, and I don¡¯t hesitate for a second in reaching for her.


    She settles into the crook of my arm with a soft sigh. ¡°I¡¯ve missed this,¡± she breathes.


    I run my hand over her silky hair and try to focus beyond the warm weight of her body against mine. Months, Be. It¡¯s been months.


    ¡°So have I.¡±


    I wrap my other arm around her, bending my head to rest it against the top of hers. She smells like my soap, having used my shower today. It makes me inordinately pleased.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    Her hand smooths over my stomach and every muscle in me locks in ce. ¡°I knocked on your bedroom door thest time I was here.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Her voice is abashed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I just wanted you to hold me, and I couldn¡¯t fall asleep. But you already had someone in your bed.¡±


    ¡°Evie?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell if it was her or Haven.¡±


    I grip her tighter. ¡°I can hold you now.¡±


    She turns her face toward my chest, her lips grazing over my skin. I stare up at the ceiling and force myself to stay rxed. But her lips continue up to my neck, and it¡¯s impossible.

 Billion Dollar Catch 63

    ¡°Kiss me good night?¡± she murmurs, a hand on my chin, and dear Lord¡­


    I kiss her and I do it properly, coaxing her warm mouth open, my tongue sweeping in. Perhaps goodnight kisses should be chaste, soft things, but there¡¯s nothing chaste about this.


    Be kisses me back, her hands on my bare chest. She lifts one of her legs to drape it over me and oh fuck, the pressure on my aching, hard-


    She pulls back.


    ¡°Ignore it,¡± I say. Can she hear the desire in my voice? ¡°I know you¡¯re not ready yet, that we¡¯re taking it slow. I can wait.¡±


    In the darkness, I can¡¯t make out her expression. But then her hand moves downwards, over my chest, my stomach, beneath the stic band of my boxers.


    There¡¯s not a part of my body that could have stopped her, and least of all that one. I hiss out a breath as her hand closes around me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to ignore it,¡± she says. ¡°Silly man, I¡¯ve been waiting for you!¡±


    ¡°Waiting for me?¡±


    ¡°To feel like you trusted me again. I didn¡¯t want to rush you.¡±


    I open my mouth to respond, but the words die as her movements speed up. For a long few seconds I can do nothing but breathe.


    ¡°You have no idea how that feels,¡± I murmur. ¡°Or how long I¡¯ve wanted you.¡±


    ¡°The second one I know pretty well.¡±


    I wiggle my T-shirt out of the way and up her body, and she stops stroking long enough to slip out of it. There¡¯s brief hesitation in the air as I put my hands on her. ¡°Be?¡±


    ¡°My body is different,¡± she says, voice soft, almost apologetic. ¡°I know that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is.¡± I weigh her full, firm tits in my hands, bending my head to take a nipple in my mouth. The soft swell of her belly against me is wondrous. ¡°You¡¯re even more beautiful. It¡¯s not fair, really.¡±


    Sheughs, but the sound dies as I use my teeth, transformed into a gasp. ¡°I remember some things,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°So do I.¡± Be shifts so she can stroke me at the same time and I damn neare right then, her soft breast in my mouth and her hand on my cock.


    Proudly, I exercise restraint, reaching into depths of character I didn¡¯t know I had. And when she finally begs me to, when I reach into her panties, she¡¯s the kind of wet that I know I¡¯ll dream about for years.


    ¡°Ethan,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Please.¡±


    I run my hands over her naked body, wondering how to do this best, how to not hurt or harm. Finally, I settle behind her, lifting her leg and keeping my arm around her. ¡°Just like this, baby,¡± I murmur, guiding myself. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to be inside you¡­¡±


    Pushing in is likeing home-there are no other words for it. She twists her head to kiss me, my hand between her legs to ignite her own pleasure, my hips thrusting¡­ the idea of there being space between us isughable.


    I always want her this close.


    I grip her as tight as I dare when I shatter, my body curved around hers and still buried deep. Her soft, encouraging moans are the most beautiful sound.


    ¡°Move in with me,¡± I mumble against her neck. ¡°I¡¯m very close to begging.¡±


    Be surprises me then. She doesn¡¯t say yes. She doesn¡¯t say no. She just rxes against me. ¡°Oh, I love you, Ethan.¡±


    I close my eyes at the words, at the emotion that threatens to split me in half. Just when I thought I had nothing left to give, she proves me wrong.


    ¡°Christ,¡± I whisper.


    Be chuckles. ¡°Still just me.¡±


    ¡°I love you too,¡± I murmur. ¡°Far, far more than I should, probably, but if there¡¯s a way to stop I hope I never find it.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± she whispers, twisting to kiss me. ¡°Can I move out of the guest bedroom now?¡±


    Laughing, I pull her close. ¡°Baby, you are never sleeping in here again.¡±


    Lucas Edwin Carter was a surprise down to the veryst moment, which made sense, since he had been nothing but surprising from the time he was two lines on a pregnancy test.


    We¡¯re at a farmers¡¯ market with the girls when another round of Braxton Hicks contractions hits. Ethan is at my side, arm around my waist. ¡°Another set of false ones?¡±


    ¡°I think so, yes. Who knewbor was so much fun that your body had to simte it for weeks beforehand? Oh. Ouch.¡± I grip his arm, resting my face against his chest. He smells good.


    ¡°Not right now, sweetie,¡± he tells someone who¡¯s hopefully not me. ¡°Be will be fine, but she¡¯s in a bit of pain right now.¡±


    ¡°Baby pain?¡±


    ¡°Right, pregnancy pain.¡±


    No, I want to object,bor pain. The contractions have never been quite this painful before-and have they ever gone on for quite this long? I¡¯m about to open my mouth to tell Ethan that perhaps this is different, when the contractions release me from their fiery grasp. The pain is gone.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I murmur, releasing his arm. ¡°We¡¯re good. We¡¯re good.¡±


    The furrow in his brow is back, concern in his eyes. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°One hundred percent.¡± My voice is more certain I feel, but I¡¯ve learned that¡¯s another part of pregnancy. You¡¯re asked to self-assess all the time, as if you have a direct line ofmunication with the baby-as if we keep up a text conversation.


    Ethan eyes my stomach with a fair bit of skepticism. He¡¯s the one who wants to go to the hospital at every hint of a contraction, has been more nervous than me since I entered the ninth month.


    Better safe than sorry is his constant refrain. It¡¯s gotten us admitted to the hospital twice so far only to be sent back home.This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going in today,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°Fine.¡± His hand rests on my low back as we continue walking through the market, looking at the best early spring has to offer.


    And then the second contraction hits.


    And then the third one.


    And they¡¯re not at all like the ones that havee before. Ethan steers me toward the car, calling for the girls to hurry up and swearing under his breath.


    ¡°This was a bad idea,¡± he mutters, ncing at me.

 Billion Dollar Catch 64

    I gasp with sudden relief as a contraction lets go of me. ¡°I wanted to go to this market. Did you get the local honey? The organic one Skye told us about?¡±


    ¡°No, and we¡¯re not turning back to find the honey stall.¡±


    I stop dead in my tracks, and he¡¯s forced to stop beside me. ¡°Ethan, that was the whole point of using here!¡±


    He looks up at the sky, like he¡¯s asking it for strength. Perhaps he is. I re at the perfect line of his jaw. ¡°We are not turning back,¡± he says, ¡°but I can send someone to get it for you? Would that make you feel better?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just wasteful. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be super quick.¡± But I¡¯m not quick, because as soon as I turn, another contraction strikes me.


    If the other ones were Little League, this one is Varsity.


    My nails dig into his arm and I¡¯m gasping. ¡°No honey.¡±


    ¡°No honey,¡± Ethan repeats. ¡°Be, your water just broke.¡±


    I look down at the leggings that have been my home for the past few weeks. It takes me a painfully long moment topute that what he¡¯s saying has actually happened. ¡°Oh God. How didn¡¯t I notice that?¡±


    He leads me toward the car. ¡°We¡¯re going to the hospital, and I don¡¯t want an argument about it.¡±


    I¡¯m still stuck on the water breaking. ¡°I really thought I¡¯d notice it.¡±


    ¡°You were in the middle of a contraction.¡±


    I breathe through my nose in the front seat, listening to the familiar hustle and bustle of Ethan fastening the girls¡¯ seat belts in the back. They¡¯re unusually quiet. I should ask about that, but then pain hits me again and I pretty much forget my own name.


    Ethan calls his mother from the car, and she¡¯s on the curb outside her house when we arrive.


    ¡°Come here, girls,¡± she tells them. ¡°You¡¯ll stay with me for the night.¡±


    Haven hesitates with her hand on the car door. ¡°Good luck,¡± she tells me. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not hurting too much.¡±


    I give her a wide smile and reach out to sp her hand. ¡°Thank you, sweetheart. I¡¯m not in too much pain at all. We¡¯ll see you tomorrow, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Her dad kisses her on the head and lifts her out, and then we¡¯re off again, Evie already dancing up the driveway in the rear-view mirror.


    Ethan handles everything in the hospital, my go-to-bag on his shoulder. For a crazy few seconds I almost feel like Haven with a broken arm, when Ethan had shown his insurance card and the arm was in a cast within the hour.


    But I doubt this will be as quick.


    We¡¯re escorted down the hall and another contraction hits. I want to scream for painkillers, for an epidural, for something, but the hospital is calm around me and perhaps that only happens on television, so I settle for leaning on Ethan.


    ¡°We¡¯re almost there,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯ll get to lie down soon.¡±


    We get a private room, but I¡¯m mostly focused on the bed and the nurse waiting with a smile. ¡°Shall we count those contractions together?¡±


    So we do, and in short order I¡¯m changed into a gown, attached to a machine that measures the fetal heart rate, and they check how open I am. Apparently more open than they¡¯d suspected, because they administer an epidural without me having to dramatically demand one. And then we¡¯re left there, Ethan and me and our unborn baby.


    ¡°The painkiller is kicking in,¡± I tell him a whileter.


    ¡°I can tell.¡±


    ¡°Come here.¡± I pat the side of my decadently wide hospital bed. He takes a careful seat on the very edge, like a little baby bird. The absurd analogy makes me want tough.


    He smiles at my smile. ¡°Something funny?¡±


    ¡°Yes. A lot of things. Like the fact that I won¡¯t exit this room without a baby.¡±


    ¡°Wild, huh?¡±


    ¡°Very.¡± In so many ways. Innumerable ways, actually. I stare unseeing at the screen by the end of the bed and think about all the things that can happen after this.


    I¡¯m so underprepared.


    ¡°You okay over there?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I murmur, trying to breathe. It turns out breathing through my pain was nothingpared to my panic.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been preparing for this moment, but not for what happens after. I¡¯ve read all the pregnancy books but not the motherhood books. I¡¯m not ready.¡±


    Ethan grips one of my hands, but I don¡¯t want it right now. I¡¯m too busy panicking. ¡°You know,¡± I use him. ¡°You¡¯re the perfect father, and you have heaps of practice. But what if I screw up on the first day? What if I don¡¯t know how to hold him, or to help him with his homework, or what if he¡¯s allergic! And I give him peanuts!¡±


    ¡°Be-¡±


    ¡°No, I take it back. I don¡¯t want this.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s eyes are clouded with concern, but through it all, he forces a wide smile. It¡¯s the one I like best-the one that says everything is going to be all right because he¡¯s there.


    ¡°So it¡¯s a boy now?¡±


    I shoot him my best death re. ¡°I¡¯m convinced now. I know it.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll figure out how to raise him together,¡± he says. ¡°And no one knows what they¡¯re doing until they do it. That¡¯s just life.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°Not making me feel better.¡±


    Laughing, he puts his hands on either side of my face. They¡¯re cool against my skin.


    ¡°Focus on this. One thing at a time. I might know how to do a lot of the other stuff, but I¡¯ve never done this, and I¡¯m in awe of you.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes. Seeing you over the past few months, too¡­ you¡¯re magnificent, and stronger than I could ever be. The rest will be a piece of cake, and I¡¯ll be right there with you.¡±


    His eyes widen as mine tear up. ¡°Be?¡±


    ¡°Excellent speech,¡± I sniffle. ¡°Did you practice it beforehand?¡±


    ¡°No. Should I have?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°You nailed the delivery.¡±


    He smooths my hair back. ¡°Done panicking?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s officially over.¡± I settle back into the bed and nod toward my bag. ¡°I brought some stuff for us to entertain ourselves with while we wait. Skye told me there might be a lot of waiting.¡±


    He grabs my bag, grunting at the weight, and looks through it. His voice is incredulous. ¡°You packed a book on molecr physics?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to learn more.¡±


    ¡°Wilma¡¯s thesis?¡±


    ¡°She asked me to read through it andment on any mistakes.¡±


    ¡°You brought this?¡± He holds up a tome of a book, written by one of the literary greats.


    ¡°I saw it in your study. I¡¯ve never read it. It¡¯s a ssic,e on. Don¡¯t look at me that way.¡±


    He puts the entire bag down, contents and all. ¡°Have I told youtely that I love you?¡±


    ¡°Hey, the bag isn¡¯t that bad.¡±


    ¡°Sure it¡¯s not,¡± he says, grinning. ¡°We¡¯re not here for a vacation. But if you want to read Tolstoy in between contractions, I won¡¯t stop you.¡±

 Billion Dollar Catch 65

    I mutter something about how I¡¯m at least trying to be cultured and Ethan bends to kiss me, breaking off my protests.


    But his kiss is soon broken off in turn by another contraction. And then another. And it¡¯s not long until our doctor returns, a smile on her face.


    ¡°Looks like someone¡¯s getting ready to meet their baby,¡± she tells me.


    If I¡¯ve ever doubted the theory of rtivity before, I¡¯ll never do it again. Because time warps and bends and speeds up and slows down in theing hours. Or is it days? Weeks? An eternity?


    Because there¡¯s no telling how long mybor is. It¡¯s a blur of pain and orders and breathing. Of faces. Dearest is Ethan¡¯s, close to mine, telling me things in a deep, calm manner. I barely make out his words, but his voice is heavenly.


    Or at least I thought his voice was heavenly, but then a wail cuts through the air that is infinitely preferable. I see two tiny, blood-covered feet before my screaming baby is pulled away.


    ¡°I can only see his feet,¡± I half-sob, half-cry. ¡°I love his feet.¡±


    Ethan isn¡¯t next to me anymore, his face focused on the bundle. ¡°Wait till you see the rest of him.¡±


    ¡°Him? It¡¯s a boy?¡±


    The nurse returns, cing the tiny, ruddy-faced baby on my chest. ¡°A boy,¡± she confirms.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I whisper to him, to this beautiful, mushed, minuscule human being who is somehow part me and part Ethan. ¡°I¡¯ve waited for you for so long.¡±


    He looks up at me and I look down at him and my tears don¡¯t stop. I doubt they ever will.


    ¡°Ethan, look,¡± I breathe.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking,¡± he murmurs, bending so his head rests next to mine. ¡°I¡¯m looking, Be.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s asleep?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Ethan stretches out beside me, and we both watch the crib at the foot of the bed with bated breath.


    Not a peep.


    ¡°Thank God.¡± I stretch out fully for what feels like the first time in days. Not even at gunpoint could Ie up with a single part of my body that isn¡¯t sore.


    Ethan slides his arm underneath my head. ¡°I practically had to bar the door to keep the girls out.¡±


    I smile at that. ¡°They want to y with him?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Haven gets that he¡¯s not big enough yet, but Evie doesn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Yesterday she snuck a doll into his crib when I looked away.¡±


    Ethan groans. ¡°Was it her purple-haired one, at least?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you bet it was. She means the best.¡± Both the girls did. The other day they¡¯d sat next to me and watched him as he slept, and I¡¯d answered all their questions to the best of my ability. Certain questions, like how did you and Daddy make him? had been difficult to answer.


    We picked him up at the baby store, I¡¯d felt like saying, but I¡¯d mangled a short reply about how it could happen when two people loved each other. Anything more borate than that and I¡¯d need Ethan as backup.


    ¡°Your parents just called,¡± he tells me. ¡°They arrive in town next weekend to meet him.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll be taking a ton of pictures,¡± I warn. ¡°Prepare yourself.¡±


    ¡°Oh, your mother told me she already has a scrapbook nned,¡± Ethan says, sounding pleased by the thought. His meeting with my parents a few months ago had gone far better than I¡¯d hoped. My parents, apprehensive of the whole situation, were immediately at ease in hispany. I understood the feeling perfectly.


    ¡°Both of our brothers need to meet him, too,¡± Ethan says.


    ¡°Wyatt is dying to,¡± I say. ¡°Has Liam epted your offer to work with you on the newpany?¡±


    ¡°No, and I don¡¯t even know what city he¡¯s in.¡± There¡¯s more in his voice than he¡¯s letting on-I know the distance between him and his brother pains him. ¡°He said he¡¯d think about it. Cole is nning to speak with him, and I¡¯m not sure Liam is prepared for that. He¡¯ll be steamrolled.¡±


    Laughing weakly, I turn onto my side and bury my head against his chest. Through all of this, the long nights and my panic and the difficulty withtching, Ethan has been here. Something about the sheer strength of him, his wide smile, hispetence, makes for the best anti-stress medication on the globe.


    ¡°I¡¯m so very, very happy I did all this with you,¡± I tell him.


    His other armes around me, somehow avoiding all the bits of me that hurt. ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± he says, ¡°because I can¡¯t imagine doing it with anyone else either.¡±


    ¡°I love you,¡± I tell him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being so crazy thest few weeks.¡±


    ¡°That was your right.¡± He presses soft kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my closed eyelids, my mouth. ¡°You¡¯d look so good in white.¡±


    I burst intoughter. ¡°Ethan Carter, you never stop trying, do you?¡±


    ¡°I never will. Marry me, Be.¡±


    I smile against his jaw, burying my face there. ¡°You¡¯re relentless.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to?¡±


    It¡¯s the first time he¡¯s asked that particr question, though he¡¯s been mentioning marriage for months. I lean back and meet his gaze with my own, and there¡¯s no fear or concern there. No hint that he¡¯s asking out of a misguided feeling of responsibility.


    ¡°I do,¡± I whisper, running my finger along his cheek. ¡°I really, really do.¡±


    His smile could light up a stadium, but it¡¯s just me here, and I¡¯m hit with the full force of it. My heart leaps into overdrive.


    ¡°I love you,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°I love you too,¡± I whisper. ¡°But perhaps a small ceremony? Just the five of us, and our parents.¡±


    ¡°The five of us,¡± Ethan repeats. ¡°I think that might be the best phrase I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, and then groans. ¡°But it might be the six of us.¡±


    I put my hands t against his chest. ¡°Hold on there, stud. I¡¯m not ready to be pregnant again.¡±


    ¡°Haven asked me for a dog yesterday.¡±


    ¡°You agreed?¡±This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°She chose a very weak moment. I was sleep-deprived and holding Lucas and there was absolutely nothing I would have said no to. We should be lucky she didn¡¯t ask me for a pony.¡±


    Laughing, I pull him closer. ¡°Some could say the same about your proposal here, choosing a weak moment.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not remotelyparable.¡± He kisses me again, soft and sweet. ¡°You should get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°We both should. The girls won¡¯t be back for hours.¡±


    ¡°Remember when Cole called me a lucky bastard because my perfect woman moved in next door?¡± Ethan murmurs.


    I fight against my impossibly heavy eyelids. ¡°I remember thinking he was wrong, because that was the way it was for me,¡± I say.


    ¡°He was right.¡± Ethan¡¯s arm tightens around me. ¡°Because you¡¯ve given me everything I¡¯ve ever wanted, including the things I¡¯d never thought to ask for. And I¡¯ll never stop loving you for that.¡±


    I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat. ¡°You¡¯re taking the words right out of my mouth,¡± I murmur. ¡°Because that¡¯s the way it is for me.¡±


    His lips find mine, and kissing him is home, safe and thrilling at the same time. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to agree to disagree,¡± he says, pulling theforter up and over us. I snuggle closer to him and close my eyes, the feeling of his arms around me all I need. From the foot of the bed, there¡¯s a small cooing sound from our sleeping son.


    The one who was as unexpected as he will be loved, born into a home with two clever older sisters and two parents who love each other very much-because I hadn¡¯t lied to the girls when I exined how Ethan and I¡¯d made him. I¡¯d just simplified a tiny bit.


    Authors note


    Thank you so much for reading!


    Ethan and Be will be back, because the Seattle Billionaires series isn¡¯t over yet¡­

 Billion Dollar Fiance 1

    *****


    We all be what we pretend to be.


    *****


    Madison


    Have you ever tried to te eighty smoked salmon puffs in under five minutes, all while your cheating ex is watching you?


    It¡¯s not something I¡¯d rmend, but damn if it doesn¡¯t kick mypetitive streak into overdrive. Jason stands on the other side of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest as he watches me move at the speed of light.Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    I finish ting thest salmon puff just in time-the door opens and the sound of mingling party guests filters in.


    Made it.


    I don¡¯t look over at Jason with my victory, because I¡¯m a thirty-year-old woman with some dignity, but it¡¯s close.


    ¡°This is for you,¡± I tell the waiter returning to my side. He lifts the te up on one arm in an expert move and disappears back out the door.


    Then I let myself nce over at Jason. He¡¯s turned his back to me, lifting crates. His part in this catering event is thankfully over.


    Good riddance, babe.


    Alma reaches for a misshapen puff I¡¯d had to discard. There¡¯d only been one. ¡°Mine,¡± she tells me, both of us watching as Jason disappears out the back door without a word of goodbye to either of us. ¡°Ten bucks says he gets lost in the garden before he makes it to the driveway.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Fifteen.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m impressed by you.¡± Alma shakes her head, moving around the giant kitchen ind. ¡°I¡¯ve said it before, but I still am.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easy to be impressive when you don¡¯t have a choice,¡± I say.


    She shoots me a look, her curls locked in a bun on top of her head. ¡°Don¡¯t downy this, Maddie. You¡¯re being a goddamn boss handling him, not to mention her, and you should own it.¡±


    My smile is unbidden. ¡°All right. I¡¯m a boss.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit. And one day you¡¯ll be an actual boss too.¡±


    My grin widens. ¡°As soon as I can.¡±


    And that day can¡¯te too soon, not as I¡¯m forced to see Jason at least once a week. Our shifts seldom ovep-I take a lot of the catering shifts to avoid him, and he rarely deigns to work outside the restaurant.


    But one day I¡¯ll have my own ce.


    Alma raises a hand. ¡°Sous-chef, right here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be my first hire.¡±


    ¡°Are those yours?¡± she asks, nodding to the bruschetta I¡¯m preparing. The bread is freshly toasted, the tomato mixture already done-everything prepped before we arrive at the client¡¯s house for the party.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, adding a touch of balsamic to each. ¡°Marco liked them.¡±


    ¡°Liked?¡±


    I grin at her. ¡°He actually used that word.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± She shakes her head, ting her own. ¡°High praise from him.¡±


    ¡°The highest.¡± Our top chef and boss is meticulous about what tes he¡¯ll serve-about vor profiles and spices and mouthfeel. It¡¯s a meticulousness that¡¯s been rewarded with stars.


    Michelin ones.


    And so he¡¯s regrly hired to cater for people like Cole Porter, whose kitchen is the size of my entire apartment. It¡¯s not the first time Alma and I are here, but it never stops impressing me.


    It¡¯s also the reason I can¡¯t quit just because Jason and I imploded. Throw away a chance to work and learn from Marco Rossi just because Jason slept with the waitress?


    No, not while I still have things to learn and bills to pay. Not when I¡¯d worked my ass off to get hired.


    And not while I¡¯m trying to get the fellowship at the Washington Culinary Institute.


    Alma and I te the next set of hors d¡¯oeuvres in practiced moves-crab cakes with a dollop of caviar on top. We work best in tandem, knowing each other¡¯s stations intuitively. Serving up food on tters in five to ten-minute intervals, ensuring all of Cole and Skye Porter¡¯s hundred-and-forty guests have something to eat.


    My hair escapes my headband and I curse, heading to the sink to wash my hands. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I cut bangs,¡± I tell Alma. ¡°That was a mistake.¡±


    ¡°You needed a change, and your hair took the brunt of that. It¡¯ll grow back-at least you didn¡¯t get a drunk tattoo.¡±


    ¡°The small mercies, I suppose.¡± I smooth the hair back in ce-the braid is still intact-and wash my hands again. I¡¯ll have to ther them in moisturizer tonight.


    ¡°Why do we have so much marinara sauce?¡± I put the lid back and lift the pot up with both arms. ¡°Who packed for us?¡±


    Alma snorts. ¡°One of the new hires.¡±


    ¡°Christ.¡± I back away to stand in the middle of the kitchen. ¡°Should we serve it by the bowl? What was he thinking? I¡¯ll take this out to the van.¡±


    ¡°Please do,¡± Alma says. ¡°Oh, watch out, you¡¯re right by the-¡±


    The back door swings open. I turn just in time to get a set of impressions, tall man suit, and then we¡¯re colliding.


    The lides loose. Defying gravity, the sauce flies heavenward and stters everywhere, the pot slipping through my hands to crash on the floor.


    ¡°Oh my God, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    The man stares down at the giant red stain on his once-pristine shirt. Thick, honey-brown hair hides his face from view, despite his height.


    ¡°We can clean that up for you right away,¡± I promise, although I don¡¯t have a clue as to how.


    He seems to think the same thing, because he makes a low, amused sound. ¡°I¡¯d like to see you try.¡±


    I swallow, taking a step back. ¡°I apologize again, sir. The cost of dry cleaning is of course on me.¡±


    He holds out his hands, one of them covered in marinara sauce.


    ¡°Right!¡± Setting down the now near-empty pot on the kitchen ind-at least the problem of too much marinara sauce has been solved-I reach for the paper towels. Alma is behind me, alreadyying out towels over the mess on the floor.


    ¡°Here you go.¡± I start wiping off his hand, as if he¡¯s a child. A quick nce up reveals green eyes torn between anger and amusement. A familiar mouth.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 2

    A familiar jaw.


    A familiar face.


    Surely it can¡¯t be¡­ can it?N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    Is this the boy-now a man-who had once been my neighbor? I haven¡¯t spoken to him since he moved out of my hometown at sixteen.


    Liam Carter¡¯s eyes widen, and the fingers I¡¯m furiously wiping clean curve around mine. ¡°Why are you so familiar, then?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t recognize me?


    I take a step back and smooth my hands over my apron to stop the sudden sweat on my palms. We might have been best friends once, but he¡¯s a guest here and I¡¯m a caterer.


    One who¡¯s just ruined a very expensive shirt.


    ¡°We used to know each other, many years ago. We were neighbors.¡±


    Recognition shes in Liam¡¯s eyes. ¡°Madison Webb?¡±


    I nod. ¡°In the flesh.¡±


    He smiles, the dimple in his cheeking out to y. I¡¯d almost forgotten he had that. ¡°Maddie¡­ it can¡¯t be!¡±


    ¡°Why not? You¡¯re not the only one who could leave Fairfield, you know,¡± I say, reaching for more paper towels. ¡°Here. For your shirt.¡±


    Liam¡¯s lips curve up into a smile. ¡°I think the ship has sailed for the shirt.¡±


    His voice is different too. It had dropped before he left, but it was never this, this deep, masculine sound. He¡¯s taller than I remember. The promise of the man he¡¯d be was always there, in the set of his shoulders and the strength of his jaw, but seeing it fulfilled in front of me is something different altogether.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it might have, yeah.¡±


    Without taking his eyes off me, Liam shrugs out of his suit jacket and hangs it off one of the kitchen chairs. His hands move to the buttons of his shirt next. Our eyes lock, and silence fills the space between us. His hands don¡¯t stop moving and soon his shirt hangs off his wide frame in all its marinara-sauce-stained glory.


    Keep your eyes on his face, Maddie, I tell myself. Not on the evident fact that Liam Carter, at thirty-one, is no longer thenky teenage boy I¡¯d once known.


    He shrugs out of the shirt and starts to ball it up. The muscles in his arms flex, and oh Lord, he has a little trail of hair down the expanse of a rippled stomach.


    I can¡¯t reconcile the image I have of Liam-of his gap-toothed smile as he raced me down the hill on our bikes-with the man standing in front of me.


    It doesn¡¯tpute.


    ¡°Trash can?¡±


    I swallow. ¡°Over there. I owe you for this.¡±


    He throws the shirt away. ¡°You know, I didn¡¯t expect there¡¯d be quite so much sauce when I met you again. Some sauce, sure. But not so much of it.¡±


    Behind us, Alma chuckles.


    ¡°It¡¯s very good sauce,¡± I say, like an idiot.


    ¡°It smells delicious.¡± He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. ¡°So you¡¯re working as a caterer?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a cook, yeah. The restaurant I work at is often hired for Mr. Porter¡¯s events.¡±


    He nces toward the door leading to the dining room beyond, to where life and guests beckon. ¡°Does Ethan know you¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°Ethan¡¯s here?¡± I haven¡¯t seen Liam¡¯s big brother in years, either-not since they both moved away from Fairfield.


    Liam¡¯s smile curves, transforming his features into casual charm. ¡°So that¡¯s a no.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a no.¡±


    His eyes travel down my body, but I¡¯m not in a cocktail dress or an evening gown. Jeans and a chef¡¯s jacket, now ruby-red down the front. I can feel the marinara soaking through to my T-shirt underneath.


    ¡°A chef. Doesn¡¯t surprise me, actually.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°You always loved cooking with your mom.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± I ask, like he¡¯s not standing there shirtless and I haven¡¯t just bathed my client¡¯s guest in expensive sauce. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°I work together with Cole.¡±


    Right. Of course.


    He works together with the billionaire who hired me. Why am I surprised? When the Carters left Fairfield, they left their humble beginnings behind as well.


    The days when Liam and I rode our bikes through familiar streets, when our adjoining backyards were our kingdoms to rule, are long gone.


    ¡°Speechless, Maddie? That¡¯s certainly a first. I remember it being difficult to ever shut you up.¡±


    My mouth drops open and Liamughs at the expression-a glimpse of the old familiarity. ¡°And you¡¯re just as arrogant as always,¡± I tell him.


    He inclines his head. ¡°More so, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Evolved in the wrong direction?¡±


    ¡°Oh, but I would call it the right one.¡±


    Behind me, a door opens. Liam¡¯s eyes shift from mine to whoever just entered.


    ¡°I¡¯d ask why you¡¯re half-naked in my kitchen, but I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d get a good exnation.¡±


    Oh shit.


    Liam just grins, answering Cole Porter like this isn¡¯t one of the city¡¯s most influential businessmen. ¡°I walked headfirst into a tub of marinara sauce. It was delicious, by the way. Your caterers know their stuff.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 3

    Cole Porter wears a resigned expression and a tailored suit. ¡°They sure do. I take it you need a spare shirt, then?¡±


    ¡°If you have one.¡±


    Mr. Porter rolls his eyes. ¡°If I have one. Up the stairs and to the right-I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    Liam¡¯s gaze shifts back to me, a crooked smile on his lips. ¡°Sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    He disappears up the stairs with his zer in hand, muscles shifting under his tanned back.


    Mr. Porter pauses with his foot on the step. ¡°I apologize about him,¡± he says, like I¡¯m the wronged party here.


    ¡°Not a problem at all, sir.¡±


    ¡°Please let Marco know that he outdid himself tonight. The bruschetta?¡± He lifts two fingers to his lips, smiling. ¡°Delicious.¡±


    My smile widens. ¡°Oh, he¡¯ll love hearing that, sir.¡±


    Liam


    ¡°She,¡± I say, holding my hands up in the universal sign of calm down. ¡°I¡¯d love to discuss this, but not right now.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not giving you the opportunity to not call me again.¡±


    ¡°I never said I would,¡± I say, unable to help myself. ¡°We had a great time, but it¡¯s been weeks.¡±


    ¡°You left me with a huge room service bill to pay.¡±


    Had I?


    Fuck. ¡°My apologies,¡± I say, reaching into the inner pocket of my suit jacket. Any longer and I¡¯ll bete to my meeting. I pull out my wallet. ¡°How much was it? I¡¯ll double it. Consider it payment of interest.¡±


    She throws back her shoulders and aims the remnants of her take-away coffee straight for me. A lifetime of ying tennis has given me quick reflexes, but I hadn¡¯t expected this, so I only have time to turn my face.


    Lukewarm coffee seeps through my shirt.


    ¡°What the hell?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want your money,¡± she spits, walking away from me on high-heeled boots. ¡°Go to hell, Liam.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± I mutter, looking down at my pressed shirt. It¡¯s gone from white to off-white, and it¡¯s not that ttering shade interior designers keep yapping on about. I shrug out of my suit jacket to spare it the indignity of getting coffee stains too.


    A man in a suit chuckles as he walks past me, but I ignore the onlookers.


    And fuck it all, now I¡¯ll bete, because I¡¯m not walking into the biggest meeting of my career with a shirt that looks like it¡¯s taken a swim in a French press.


    A quick detour to Seattle¡¯s Financial District and I¡¯ve traded my old shirt for one devoid of stains, stuffing it in a trash can on my way back. Throwing away stained shirts is bing something of an unfortunate habit ofte.


    ncing at my watch tells me all I need to know.


    I¡¯m fifteen minuteste.Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    I fold up the anger and stow it deep inside, letting nothing but calm control show as I walk into the high-rise. That Walker Steel had agreed to a meeting at all came as a shock-I¡¯m not about to let myself ruin it because of a foul mood.


    No, I¡¯m the guy they call when things are going to shit. When the Dow Jones drops five hundred points in an hour and the other traders are losing their minds. When a broker has made a terrible decision and we have to recuperate the losses before a high-end client finds out.


    Making money is what I do best. Nurturing those zeroes and ones, doubling them and then doubling them again.


    Don¡¯t get me wrong, though. I¡¯m great with people too-which had made me one of the youngest senior brokers on Wall Street.


    Double-talk? I¡¯ve tripled it.


    Sweet-talk? So good you¡¯ll get cavities.


    ¡°Mr. Carter,¡± a man a few years younger than me says, nodding. ¡°Let me escort you to the meeting room.¡±


    Albert Walker has an office on the top floor, not that he¡¯s ever there to use it. Walker Steel conducts business at the sites and he¡¯s notorious for eschewing traditional markets and big-city conventions.


    In other words, he avoids men like me.


    A middle-aged man with russet hair greets me as I emerge from the elevator. ¡°Dennis Walker.¡±


    ¡°Liam Carter,¡± I say, my hand closing tight over his as we shake.


    His is just as firm around mine, but his face looks like a scowl is its default mode. ¡°d you could make it.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t miss it for the world.¡±


    He lets go first. ¡°My father has epted this meeting as a courtesy to Cole Porter.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re grateful for the opportunity.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve yet to decide if there will be one at all.¡± Judging by the tone of his voice, I chalk up his vote in the no column.


    So it¡¯ll be a tough sell. My favorite.


    Albert Walker rises from behind his desk as we enter. The old man looks just like in the pictures I¡¯ve seen, in a suit that looks two sizes too big, a mustache, and eyes sharp like a hawk¡¯s. They¡¯d have to be for Walker Steel to have survived this long without taking in outside investment.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± he says, extending a hand across his desk. ¡°I was wondering if you¡¯d be a no-show.¡±


    ¡°Apologies,¡± I say, hand firm. ¡°I was detained at my previous meeting.¡±


    Albert¡¯s lips quirk under the mustache. ¡°Hmm,¡± he says. ¡°Have a seat, then, and let¡¯s hear your pitch.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Straight to business? You¡¯re a man after my own heart.¡±


    ¡°I very much doubt that,¡± he says, ¡°except in this regard, perhaps.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 4

    I lean back in the leather-d chair, forcing the anger at She deeper down into the storage recesses of my mind.


    Time to deliver, Liam.


    ¡°Porter, Park and Carter isn¡¯t an investmentpany driven by a faceless board. Our strength is our board, in fact, and the business experience of its three principal members.¡±


    Albert nods, leaning back in his chair like he¡¯s preparing himself for something entertaining. No other investmentpany has been allowed a stake in Walker Steel. When my brother and his new partners had expressed an interest in doing so, I¡¯d known I had to be the one to aplish it.


    But he doesn¡¯t seem to be taking our offer seriously.


    ¡°In our conversations over email, I¡¯ve sent you a sliding scale of ourmitments. We¡¯re willing to waive several of the rights usually orded to shareholders.¡±


    Albert¡¯s hand curls over the carved armrests of his chair. ¡°And you would be the one principally in charge of the investment? We¡¯d bemunicating with you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I say. ¡°As the manager and acting CEO of Porter, Park and Carter, I oversee our entire portfolio.¡±


    And it was one hell of a portfolio, too. But my reply didn¡¯t seem to sway Walker-his mustache dropped lower as he frowned. ¡°See here,¡± he says, ¡°that¡¯s the one thing that sticks me the wrong way.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Do you know how many Wall Street bankers have sat in the chair you¡¯re sitting in? Professing they¡¯re different, how theirpanies are different, that we¡¯re not selling out by epting their money. Money they¡¯re only throwing at us because they think they can make a quick buck.¡±


    Damn.


    I stretch my legs out in front of me, projecting the picture of ease. ¡°I can¡¯t speak for the previous bankers you¡¯ve met,¡± I say, ¡°but I¡¯m confident that I¡¯m different.¡±


    Albert¡¯s eyebrow rises. ¡°Oh? Because your record would seem to indicate otherwise.¡±


    What?


    Dear reader, my record is ster.


    ¡°I was the youngest investment banker at my previous bank to singlehandedly oversee a mutual fund,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve beat index by more than seventy percent for the past seven years. I was the top wealth manager at-¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± Albert says, sweeping his hand across the desk as if I¡¯m an unruly child. My eyes narrow. ¡°I¡¯m well aware that you can make money. Cole Porter wouldn¡¯t hire you if you didn¡¯t. But that¡¯s the thing-I don¡¯t want a Wall Street banker connected to thispany. I don¡¯t want to hear your opinions in shareholder meetings. I know how you live, you young bucks from the big banks. What you spend your money on. And there will be none of that connected to Walker Steel. We¡¯re a familypany.¡±


    Pulling out my hair strand by strand might be morefortable than this conversation. How the hell am I being judged by the lowest standard set by my peers?


    ¡°I¡¯m from Washington. I grew up just a few hours from here.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ve barely been here since you started working for the major banks in New York.¡± Albert raises a bushy eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s more, I don¡¯t want any of that yboy lifestyle connected to thispany.¡±


    My scowl must have given way to confusion, because Albert chuckles. Dennis walks around the desk to lean against the wall, both Walkers looking at me like the answer is obvious.


    I¡¯m not going to make this sale.


    ¡°yboy lifestyle?¡± I ask. How the hell would they know how I spend my private time?


    ¡°Wall Street bankers are known for it,¡± Dennis drawls. ¡°We were willing to assume better of you because of your connection to Cole Porter, but the little show I saw outside the building this morning convinced me otherwise.¡±


    A sinking realization. ¡°Ah. You¡¯re referring to the coffee incident?¡±


    Albert isn¡¯t smiling. ¡°The very one,¡± he says. ¡°Like I said-we¡¯re a familypany, Mr. Carter. We build things. We sell things. We care about our customers and our employees, and we operate ording to certain values. Anyone who considers investing in ourpany, anyone at all, would have to clear a high bar.¡±


    I¡¯m failing to do so.


    And there¡¯s nothing I hate more than failing.


    I nod, tapping my fist against the armrest. Think fast, Liam.


    ¡°I understand, Mr. Walker. It¡¯s the same principle Porter, Park and Carter is trying to pursue. Looking for investment opportunities inpanies that¡¯llst, industries that can revolutionize. You might not like me, but you can trust the board to be true to those values.¡± I push my shoulders back, meeting his gaze squarely. ¡°As for myself, you¡¯re right-I did work on Wall Street. I was good at it. But it became too much after a while, surrounded by a lifestyle I disliked. That¡¯s why I returned here, to my home, to my family. And as for the incident this morning¡­¡± I shake my head, like it¡¯s all one big misunderstanding. Like I¡¯m a reformed and contrite Wall Street banker. ¡°Very unfortunate. I tried to tell the woman that we¡¯d never met, but she seemed determined to take out her frustrations on me. The coffee and my shirt were coteral damage.¡±


    Dennis crosses his arms over his chest, looking ready to call bullshit. Judging by the look on his face, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if that¡¯s his favorite pastime. ¡°A convenient exnation,¡± he says.


    ¡°Only because it¡¯s true.¡± I spread my hands wide, like I have nothing to hide, as the lies continue to fall off my lips. ¡°I¡¯m in amitted rtionship. My fianc¨¦e works here in Seattle.¡±


    Albert¡¯s eyes soften. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s her name?¡± Dennis asks.


    ¡°Madison,¡± I reply. The name rolls off my tongue like it¡¯s obvious, which is the only way to make a lie believable.


    But the choice of name surprises me.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to stay, just like Porter, Park and Carter,¡± I continue. ¡°I firmly believe that our values align, but I respect your hesitation. Walker Steel hasn¡¯t survived this long without being cautious.¡±


    ¡°Damn straight we haven¡¯t,¡± Albert says. ¡°Look, Cole Porter and Ethan Carter hired you, and that¡¯s the single thing you have going for you. You might be running the show, but it¡¯s their money, and that makes me calmer.¡±


    I fight against the urge to grit my teeth. Here I thought I was done living under someone¡¯s shadow. ¡°Give me a chance to prove you wrong,¡± I say. ¡°If youe to the decision that you¡¯d rather we not invest, that¡¯ll be respected, no hard feelings.¡±


    He raises an eyebrow again. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is about you, Carter, but¡­ here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. Join Dennis and me for dinner a week from today. I¡¯ll email your office with the details.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to.¡± I reach over the desk for a handshake, and Albert¡¯s meaty fist closes around mine again.


    ¡°Wives present,¡± he adds. ¡°Or fianc¨¦e, in your case. Please bring Madison.¡±


    My hand grows tighter around his. ¡°Oh, I will.¡±


    Chopping vegetables isn¡¯t a recognized sport, but it should be, and I¡¯ve never met a fellow chef who felt otherwise. The carrots, leeks and courgettes under my knife all surrender to my furious pace.


    My knife is part of me and it knows my moods all too well by now. On the other side of the counter, Alma makes noment, but her own chopping speed is up. We¡¯re part of the lunch team at Marco¡¯s this week, which means no catering work, but no dinner services either.


    Which means I can avoid Jason for yet another five days. I¡¯m bing a pro at this game, like a reverse Where¡¯s Waldo.


    ¡°When¡¯s the application deadline?¡± Alma asks, ncing over her shoulder to the chef¡¯s office. But Marco¡¯s always deep in thought when he¡¯s in there, not to mention his hearing isn¡¯t excellent after a lifetime of kitchen work.


    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± I say.This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 5

    ¡°Please tell me yours is ready.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s more than ready.¡± Has been for weeks, ever since I decided to apply for the culinary fellowship Jason has his eyes set on. At the time, it had felt like revenge against his cheating ways.


    Now it feels like a stepping-stone tounching my own culinary career as a chef.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait for you to go through to the next round,¡± Alma says. ¡°Or the look on Jason¡¯s face when you announce it.¡±


    My own grin is wide, directed at the leeks I¡¯m butchering. ¡°That¡¯s the idea,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯ll be embarrassing if I don¡¯t seed, though.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll never know,¡± Alma says, waving her knife in a move that¡¯s dismissive and dangerous at the same time. ¡°I¡¯ll sure as hell never tell him. How would he find out?¡±


    I shrug. The chef scene is small in Seattle, and most of us know each other, at least by name. ¡°Here¡¯s to hoping he won¡¯t.¡±


    We stand side by side as we pour the chopped vegetables into the giant stock pan. Prepping it for this evening¡¯s dinner service, when the next round of chefs will use it to make risotto.


    ¡°Guess what,¡± Alma says, her voice dropping low. ¡°I googled your mysterious friend from Cole Porter¡¯s party.¡±


    ¡°Alma, you-¡±


    ¡°Do you know what his brother does?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, because who doesn¡¯t? My parents kept sending pictures of news articles in our group email thread. They were almost as proud of Ethan as they were of me, that the boy who¡¯d lived next door had be so sessful.


    ¡°And you know them?¡± Alma asks, stirring the stock. It¡¯s set to simmer for hours. ¡°Madison, I thought you grew up in a tiny seaside town!¡±


    ¡°I did, but even tiny seaside towns have neighbors. Besides, I haven¡¯t seen Liam since I was¡­ sixteen?¡± I shake my head. ¡°Long time ago.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s good-looking,¡± she says. ¡°I know I¡¯m married, but I can still look.¡±


    I wipe my hands on the towel slung over my shoulder, moving to clear our chopping boards. ¡°He¡¯s also living in a different world from us. A world where he eats the salmon puffs, and we make them.¡±


    She snorts, ignoring myment. ¡°Perhaps it was a sign, you bumping into him.¡±


    ¡°A sign? I don¡¯t believe in signs.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know, Miss Make-Your-Own-Luck. But I think things are looking up.¡± Alma puts her hands on her hips. ¡°Culinary fellowship, hot new man in your life¡­¡±


    ¡°Your imagination is taking you ces.¡± But I¡¯m grinning as I reach up to undo the top button of my chef¡¯s shirt. The door to the kitchen swings open and a waitress sticks her head in. ¡°Maddie?¡±This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You have a visitor.¡±


    ¡°I have a what?¡±


    She shrugs, her smile wide. ¡°There¡¯s a man in a suit here asking for Madison Webb. He said to tell you that it¡¯s about calling in a debt owed, and that you¡¯d know what that means?¡±


    My eyes must be the size of saucers, because she winks. ¡°I¡¯ve given him a ss of wine and told him to wait.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Liam¡¯s here? Right when my shift ended?


    ¡°See?¡± Alma says. ¡°I told you things were looking up. Now go out there and make your own luck.¡±


    It takes me five minutes in the changing room to tangle my dark hair out of the braid. It¡¯s not much better when I do, though, because it¡¯s wavy and mussed. My bangs will not cooperate either, but I try to brush them to either side of my face and smooth the rest into a ponytail.


    Liam¡¯s getting me sweaty after a long shift, and he¡¯ll just have to like it.


    I head out of the kitchen and into the restaurant. After months of working here, Marco¡¯s feels like home, the decor of beige and blue calming my senses.


    I see Liam right away.


    Leaning back in a chair like he owns it, an arm draped over the one next to him, his face turned down to his phone.


    The ss of wine on the table looks half-drained.


    I clear my throat. He looks up, charming smile at the ready. ¡°Ah, Madison. Thank you foring.¡±


    ¡°You came here,¡± I point out.


    His smile curves. ¡°So I did. Come, have a seat. Do you want something to drink?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s three in the afternoon,¡± I say, sliding into the seat opposite his. ¡°So no.¡±


    ¡°Still judgmental, I see.¡±


    My eyebrows rise and heughs, leaning back in his chair again. ¡°That¡¯s the Maddie I remember,¡± he says. ¡°Always quick to bite. There wasn¡¯t a challenge you didn¡¯t relish.¡±


    I cross one leg over the other, wishing I¡¯d worn something else to work today, anything that wasn¡¯t my old hoodie. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you¡¯re the Liam I remember,¡± I say, cocking my head. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you in a suit, and now you¡¯re only ever in one.¡±


    ¡°I upgraded,¡± he says.


    ¡°How did you find me here?¡±


    ¡°I spoke to Cole to find out the name of the caterers,¡± he says, like that¡¯s a casual thing. I suppose it is, for him. ¡°It was easy to call Marco¡¯s and ask when you were working.¡±


    My eyebrows must be to my hairline, because he snorts. ¡°Just a bit of casual detective work.¡±


    Nothing about it sounded casual. I wish I¡¯d ordered a drink so I¡¯d have something to do with my hands. I fold them in myp. ¡°That seems like a lot of work for someone who could have just asked for my number on Saturday.¡±


    Liam gives a nod, a thick tendril of his honey-brown hair falling over his forehead. ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s my lot in life to regret decisions, it seems.¡±


    ¡°That sounds ominous,¡± I say. ¡°It seems to me like you¡¯ve done well for yourself since you moved out of Fairfield.¡±


    His square jaw tenses, but there¡¯s nothing but ease in his voice. ¡°Well enough,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m back in Seattle now, for work.¡±


    ¡°And you work in investment banking?¡±


    ¡°You sound surprised. Why?¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 6

    I bite my lip. There is no telling where Liam and I stand after this many years of silence. We¡¯re not the kids we once were, and it¡¯s difficult to find glimpses of his former self in the tall man before me. His smiles were never this charming before.


    ¡°Well,¡± I start, ¡°it¡¯s not really a profession kids grow up aspiring to, you know. Although you were always fond of math. Leading the Mathletes to the championships, and all.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°I¡¯d almost forgotten about that.¡±


    ¡°Right. Well, that was where you were thest time I saw you.¡±


    Liam drums his fingers on the table. ¡°And thest time I saw you, you had dyed a pink streak in your hair and your favorite band was Green Day.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t remind me.¡± I put my head in my hands. ¡°My worst phase.¡±


    ¡°And for fourteen years,¡± he says, ¡°that¡¯s the image of you that¡¯s stuck.¡±


    ¡°Thank God I¡¯ve given you a different one, then,¡± I say, even though it¡¯s one of me in a toorge hoodie and no makeup.


    His smile widens. ¡°I like both, but this one is preferable.¡±


    Yeah, I should have gotten something to drink. My hands feel useless in myp, my throat dry.


    ¡°Why did you stop by?¡± I ask, running a hand over my hair. Yes, most of it is still in the ponytail. ¡°You said you had a favor to call in. Like I said, I¡¯m happy to reimburse you for the shirt.¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    Liam snorts. ¡°That¡¯s not why I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    He nces around at the restaurant, the other tables too far away for their conversations to be anything more than hushed murmurs. ¡°The favor is significantly bigger than I have any right to call in.¡±


    ¡°If it has anything to do with insider trading or cocaine, I¡¯m out.¡±


    Liam breaks out into a surprisedugh, just as I¡¯d hoped. ¡°All the stereotypes in one sentence. I¡¯m impressed, Maddie.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the only investment banker I¡¯ve ever met,¡± I say, smiling. ¡°So you¡¯re going to have to prove me wrong.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll be easy. I¡¯m not asking you to do either of those things.¡±


    I pretend to wipe sweat off my forehead. ¡°Thank God. I wasn¡¯t prepared for the moral question of whether to turn you in or not.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll spare you that, at least.¡± Liam¡¯s smile falters, but it¡¯s slight. It¡¯s enough for me to see the boy I once knew in his face, despite the five-o¡¯clock shadow. ¡°Do you enjoy working here?¡±


    ¡°Marco¡¯s is one of the best restaurants in Seattle. Absolutely, I do.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Liam says, but his tone doesn¡¯t sound like it is. He takes a sip of his wine, leaning back on the chair. ¡°I¡¯ll juste right out and say it.¡±


    ¡°Please do.¡± My mind is running on overdrive trying to figure out what he might want. Another, smaller part of me is disappointed he hadn¡¯t shown up just for old times¡¯ sake.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to close a business deal,¡± Liam says. ¡°In an effort to seem more¡­ family-friendly, so to speak, or value-driven, I might have said that I had a girlfriend. A fianc¨¦e, to be precise.¡±


    My smile is incredulous. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±


    ¡°I wish I was,¡± he says. ¡°It was the best thing I could think of.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to say when they prove you wrong?¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s the thing.¡± He inclines his head to me. ¡°I¡¯m hoping they never have to find out the truth.¡±


    My mouth opens, but nothinges out. He can¡¯t be suggesting what I think he is¡­ is he?


    ¡°Speechless,¡± hements. ¡°If I wasn¡¯t hanging on the edge of my seat for your reply, I¡¯d gloat.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s hanging on the edge of his seat. His ss of wine in one hand, the other flung over the back of the chair next to him, Liam looks like he¡¯s in control. Like he¡¯s only ever in control, like the suit he wears had asked him to please be tailored to his specifications.


    ¡°So¡­ you want me to pretend to be your fianc¨¦e? To help you somehow close this deal?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Liam says. ¡°Just to make me seem more¡­¡±


    ¡°Likable?¡± I ask.


    His wide smile is back, but there¡¯s a calcted edge to it. He must be used to negotiating business. ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°And I was the first woman you thought of?¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes darken with what looks like embarrassment. ¡°They asked for my fianc¨¦e¡¯s name, and yours was the first toe to mind.¡±


    I blink at him, at a loss for words.


    Liam¡¯s not, though. His smile turns crooked, his gaze wandering over the near emptiness of Marco¡¯s. In between lunch and dinner, the hour we all jokingly call twilight.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to rm you,¡± he says, ¡°but there¡¯s a man in a chef¡¯s jacket staring at us like he wishes he was armed.¡±


    I nce over, only to see Jason with his hand on the door to the kitchen. His dark hair is tucked under a baseball cap.


    He¡¯s looking from me to Liam, the corners of his mouth turning down like he¡¯s tasted something sour.


    I give Liam my sunniest, widest smile, like he¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever wanted in life. ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± I tell him, reaching across the table to put my hand on his.


    ¡°You are?¡± His skin is soft and warm. He flips my hand over and threads our fingers together. ¡°I¡¯m assuming this has something to do with the man over there.¡±


    It¡¯s petty, but it feels amazing. ¡°It might,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll y your fianc¨¦e at the events you need me to, if you¡¯ll y my boyfriend a few times here around the restaurant.¡±


    ¡°Someone you want to make jealous?¡±


    ¡°An ex, yes.¡±


    ¡°Yikes,¡± Liam says, throwing a nce toward the kitchen door, but Jason¡¯s long gone. ¡°And you work together?¡±


    ¡°Unavoidable,¡± I say. I¡¯d known the risks when I got involved with someone at work, and I¡¯d done it anyway.


    Liam¡¯s gaze returns to my hand, turning it over in his. I find myself holding my breath as his fingers trace mine. ¡°I guess there¡¯s only one thing left to do, then,¡± he says.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 7

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°We have to buy you a ring.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t go ring shopping like this,¡± I say, tugging at my hoodie. ¡°I¡¯ll get thrown out immediately for viting the dress code.¡±


    ¡°Stores don¡¯t have dress codes,¡± Liam says, holding the front door to Marco¡¯s open for me.


    ¡°Oh, they sure do, they just happen to be unwritten.¡±


    ¡°Like your ring,¡± he says. ¡°Diamond cut? Princess? You can have whatever you like, for the duration of this little charade.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never thought about what kind of engagement ring I want.¡±


    Liam nces down at me. ¡°You haven¡¯t? I thought all women did that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, all women. Because we¡¯re a homogenous group.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± he says, nodding toward the street. ¡°Come on, Maddie. I have a store in mind.¡±


    ¡°You go shopping for engagement rings often?¡± I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, like this is a normal walk with a normal friend.


    As if it wasn¡¯t a six-foot-two resurrected old-friend-turned-fake-fianc¨¦ in a tailored suit.


    Perhaps that¡¯s why I¡¯m handling all of it so calmly. At any moment, this absurd dream will snap to pieces.


    ¡°Not that often,¡± Liam says, the same teasing charm in his voice. ¡°You¡¯ll be my first.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m honored,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to give me more info here, Liam.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an open book. Ask me anything.¡±


    ¡°Why did you say my name?¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± He looks across the street, directing us to a crosswalk. ¡°I wish I had an answer to that. I can only assume it¡¯s because I¡¯d met you just a few days earlier.¡±


    ¡°At the Porters¡¯.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°And you go to parties like that often?¡±


    ¡°A fair bit, yes. There¡¯s a lot ofworking involved in my job.¡±


    ¡°I thought investors spent all their time behindputers, day-trading.¡±


    He chuckles, the sound deep and masculine. My mind can¡¯t seem topute that the Liam in my memories is this man, the two of them one and the same.


    ¡°When they¡¯re just starting out, perhaps. But not at my level.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Big Shot.¡±


    Liam¡¯s hand drifts over my low back as we walk around a hot-dog stand. ¡°As the future Mrs. Big Shot, it should please you,¡± hements.


    ¡°Will I be expected to go to some of those parties with you?¡±This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°A few, perhaps,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t know where this is heading. This mighte as a surprise, but I¡¯m ying this by ear.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t usually stage fake engagements?¡±


    ¡°Only biannually,¡± he deadpans, ¡°and always off-Broadway.¡±


    I can¡¯t help but grin. ¡°This is ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Oh, for sure,¡± he agrees. ¡°Might go down as the stupidest thing I¡¯ve ever done to secure an investment deal.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re still determined to do it?¡±


    ¡°Something being a stupid idea has never stopped me before,¡± he says, as we turn the corner.


    ¡°I remember. You were the worst cliff-diver in the history of Fairfield.¡±


    ¡°The best,¡± he corrects.


    ¡°Only because you took the worst risks.¡±


    ¡°Someone had to,¡± he says. ¡°We¡¯re going to dinner on Saturday a week from now.¡±


    ¡°With who?¡±


    ¡°With the two men I¡¯m trying to convince I¡¯m trustworthy, and their wives.¡±


    ¡°And us?¡±


    ¡°And us.¡±


    Theplexity of the situation washes over me, and I put a hand on Liam¡¯s arm. ¡°We¡¯re going to be talking to them?¡±


    ¡°Well, that is assumed at dinner, yes.¡±


    ¡°We need to practice,¡± I say. ¡°I need to know everything about you.¡±


    ¡°Everything?¡± Liam asks. ¡°That sounds¡­ excessive.¡±


    ¡°Everything,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°They won¡¯t ask us what kind of shampoo the other one uses,¡± he says. ¡°This isn¡¯t a ¡¯90s romanticedy, and we¡¯re not trying to fool immigration agents.¡±


    ¡°We still have to act believable, though.¡± I don¡¯t say what¡¯s at the forefront of my mind, which is that I have to somehow turn myself into the kind of woman a man like Liam Carter would have proposed to.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 8

    But that seems better left unstated.


    ¡°I think the key word in that statement was act,¡± Liam says, putting a hand on the diamond-shaped door handle to the jewelers. ¡°And we¡¯re just about to get our first trial run. After you, Maddie.¡±


    I step past him into the brightly lit store and nod to the security guard by the entrance. Two attendants look over to see us enter. One gives us a bright hello, while the other¡¯s gaze drops to my clothes.


    See? I want to tell Liam. There are dress codes in ces like this!


    But their attention snaps to Liam as soon as he puts a hand on my low back. ¡°Ladies,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m sorry we didn¡¯t call ahead to book a time, but we need a consultation.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s quite all right, Mr. Carter,¡± the older one says, her hair in an elegant French twist. ¡°What are you looking for today?¡±


    Mr. Carter, is it? Is he a frequent customer here? My mind fills with images of beautiful women, draped in diamonds that he can now afford by the dozen. I push the image away.


    Liam looks down at me. ¡°An engagement ring.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Congrattions! Wi, please get our clients something to drink. What would you like? A ss of champagne?¡±


    I open my mouth to reply, but Liam is faster. ¡°Champagne would be great.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯sing right up. Now, these two counters have the widest selection,¡± she says, smiling down at the rows of rings. ¡°We have it all, and if there¡¯s something you can¡¯t find, we¡¯re skilled at bespoke.¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be-¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll bear it in mind,¡± Liam says.


    ¡°You two have a look and see if anything speaks to you. Remember, every band can be adjusted or made in a different material. Gold, white-gold, tinum.¡±


    My head feels dizzy with all the wealth on disy, the rows and rows of diamonds and sapphires.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, reaching for the ss of champagne the younger attendant offers us.


    By this point, I could use it, and I don¡¯t care that it¡¯s only mid-afternoon.


    Liam¡¯s hand stays on my low back. His touch is casual, like we do this all the time. ¡°Which one do you like?¡± he asks. The scent of cologne and coffee hits me, delicious and masculine.


    I blink, focusing on the diamonds neatly arranged like trophies in a hunting case. My eyes catch on a modest diamond on a tinum band. ¡°How about that one?¡±


    The attendant unlocks the case without a word, holding it out for me to try. It¡¯s big, but it slides on my finger well enough.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Liam says, but dislike is clear in his voice.


    You¡¯re not the one who¡¯s going to wear it, buddy. ¡°I like it,¡± I say.


    His fingers dip into the groove of my lower back.


    ¡°But honey,¡± he says, leaning in so the attendant can¡¯t hear him, ¡°a woman I proposed to wouldn¡¯t wear anything that small. It won¡¯t look realistic.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow at him, and the attendant drifts away to give us room. ¡°So this is about you looking good?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about both of us looking good,¡± he counters. ¡°What about that one?¡±


    He¡¯s pointing to an engagement ring with a diamond the size of a golf ball.


    ¡°I¡¯ll break my finger with that one on.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Of course you won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°A sprain, at the very least. A stressed ligament.¡±


    ¡°What about this one, then?¡±


    It¡¯s better, but the diamond is still of a preposterous size. ¡°You really want to give me that to wear? You¡¯re not afraid I¡¯ll drop it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay for insurance,¡± he says. ¡°So? What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re going about this the wrong way,¡± I say, turning so that we¡¯re face-to-face. We¡¯re closer than I¡¯d be to anyone I wasn¡¯t actually engaged to, but seeing as we¡¯re acting¡­


    Liam¡¯s hand tightens on my waist. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You want to prove that you¡¯re value-driven. That you¡¯re family-oriented. Right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± he echoes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know these people, but I¡¯m guessing they won¡¯t be impressed with me having a diamond you can spot from space.¡±


    He frowns, like I¡¯m making sense and he doesn¡¯t like it.


    ¡°Let¡¯s meet halfway then,¡± he says, looking down at the case. ¡°Choose something that¡¯s in-between, honey.¡±


    I lean over the counter, aware of how close we¡¯re standing. It takes me a minute until I find one that¡¯ll work. An emerald-cut diamond with a halo of brilliants on a tinum band.


    It¡¯s not massive. It¡¯s not small.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Excellent choice,¡± the attendant says, pulling it out of the case. ¡°Let¡¯s see it on¡­¡±


    It¡¯s one of the most surreal experiences of my life, pushing the grimy sleeve of my hoodie up and watching her slide the otherworldly ring onto my finger.


    Her polished nails are a stark contrast to mine, cut short and polish-less. Nothing else works in a kitchen.


    ¡°Look at that,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°It¡¯s perfect.¡±


    Liam¡¯s voice is decisive. ¡°We¡¯ll take it.¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir. Let me just get the sizing correct¡­¡±


    As she fiddles with my finger, I shoot Liam a look. It¡¯s a we-don¡¯t-know-how-expensive-this-ring-is kind of look.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 9

    He doesn¡¯t seem to get it, raising an eyebrow at me. What, honey?


    When I hear the price, standing by the cashier next to him, it¡¯s staggering. It¡¯s the GDP of a small country. It¡¯s not something I can walk around wearing. It¡¯s something that should be locked into a safe and the key thrown away.


    Liam hands over his credit card like he¡¯s paying for lunch. How much money does he make, really? Investment banking is known for being obscene. But, Liam? The Liam I grew up with?


    As we walk out of the jewelers with a tiny velvet box, I have to admit to myself that he¡¯s really not the boy I knew anymore.


    His phone rings as we step out onto the street. Liam nces at his watch before he replies, the charming smile he disyed in the store wiped clean.


    ¡°Carter,¡± he says.


    I look at the people passing us, minding their own business, and feel like the heavy weight of the ring in my pocket is burning lead.


    I put my hand over it just in case, as if hordes of thieves are about to descend. Can they tell? Are there diamond-sniffing dogs?


    Liam blows out a breath. ¡°Take the short position. We have enough capital. Leverage a few of our other positions too.¡±


    My gaze drifts from passersby to Liam. The sharp cut of his jaw as he speaks. The words that sound like a differentnguage.


    The giant diamond in my pocket.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    By the time he hangs up, I¡¯m biting my lip to keep fromughing.


    ¡°Something wrong?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Look at us,¡± I say, sweeping a hand from him to me. ¡°There is no way this¡¯ll work.¡±


    He frowns, the furrow in his brow returning. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Who would ever believe you are engaged to me? Or the reverse, for that matter?¡±


    ¡°Your ex at the restaurant seemed to believe it,¡± Liam points out. ¡°So did thedies in the store just now.¡±


    ¡°They wanted to make a sale.¡±


    ¡°They still believed it. I could tell.¡± There¡¯s more confidence in his voice than I feel in my little toe, so I release the breath I¡¯ve been holding.


    ¡°I¡¯m just warning you,¡± I say.


    ¡°So we¡¯ll do a better job at acting.¡± Liam nces back down at his phone. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    I¡¯m left standing there while he replies to a text or an email, the afternoon sunlight glinting on his thick, honey-brown hair.


    ¡°And now I¡¯m talking to myself,¡± I say. ¡°Delightful. Liam, there are things we have to discuss.¡±


    ¡°There are?¡± His fingers fly over the phone and then he slips it back into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, a charming smile back on his face. ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡±


    ¡°We need an origin story.¡±


    ¡°An origin story?¡±


    ¡°How did we meet?¡± I prod. ¡°Where did you propose to me?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not going to ask about any of that.¡±


    ¡°How often have you met these people before? The ones we¡¯re to pretend in front of?¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes flit to mine. ¡°Once.¡±


    ¡°Once? They are absolutely going to ask how we met, then. It¡¯s amon enough ice-breaker.¡±


    He sighs, like this is another thing on his already full agenda. ¡°Okay, we¡¯lle up with something. Come on, let¡¯s sit down.¡±


    He stops by a small caf¨¦ on the corner, but I shake my head. ¡°Not here. Let me lead the way.¡±


    Five minutester we¡¯re sitting under the shade of tree on a little square, tucked inside the high-rises in the Financial District.


    ¡°This ce is much better,¡± I say, handing him a menu. ¡°I went to school with one of the cooks here.¡±


    Liam snorts, looking down at the selection. ¡°You always loved food.¡±


    ¡°Everyone loves food,¡± I correct. ¡°I just love making it, too.¡±


    He tosses his menu back on the table and leans back, eyes on me. ¡°We stick as close to the truth as we can.¡±


    ¡°For our origin story?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We grew up in the same town, lost touch, but reconnected in the city a while back.¡±


    ¡°How far back?¡±


    He runs a hand along his jaw, looking past me. ¡°That¡¯s tricky.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°There might be pictures of me with dates out there, so if they decide to fact-check this, we can¡¯t have been an item for long.¡±


    I shake my head at him, but my heartbeat speeds up as I look down at my menu. I know nothing about his life now, and he knows nothing about mine.


    We¡¯re old friends hovering on the edge of strangers, trying to pretend we¡¯re lovers.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you need a fianc¨¦e? To scrub clean your image as a yboy?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the way they see it, at least.¡±


    I take a deep breath. ¡°We¡¯re a whirlwind romance, then.¡±


    ¡°We met again and sparks just flew,¡± he says. ¡°Let¡¯s stick to the catering story. It works.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 10

    ¡°With a different timeline?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We met¡­ two months ago,¡± he says. ¡°That should be fine.¡±


    My eyebrows shoot high. ¡°And we¡¯re already engaged?¡±


    ¡°Whirlwind,¡± he says, motioning for the waiter. ¡°A ck coffee.¡±


    ¡°An icedtte for me, please.¡±


    Liam raises an eyebrow at me. ¡°See? We¡¯re learning things already. Now I know your coffee order.¡±


    ¡°How did you propose?¡±


    He waves a hand. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, as long as it¡¯s not ludicrous.¡±


    ¡°No giant TV screens?¡±


    ¡°None at all.¡± He undoes the button in his suit jacket, ncing back down at the heavy watch at his wrist. ¡°How do you want me to have proposed?¡±


    ¡°Just the two of us,¡± I say, swallowing. ¡°No family or friends. Back in Fairfield, overlooking the ocean.¡±


    Liam looks at me, and it¡¯s a moment before he speaks. ¡°All right,¡± he says finally. ¡°That¡¯s how I proposed.¡±


    ¡°And I said yes right away.¡± I put the ck velvet box on the table between us, handling it with all the carefulness of an armed grenade. ¡°How about you keep a hold of this until we meet next Saturday for the dinner?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to wear it to the restaurant? Let your ex get an eye full of the thing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll just as soon lose it in a pan.¡±


    Liam¡¯s mouth quirks, and he slides the box into his suit jacket. ¡°I¡¯ll keep it safe.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    He extends a hand. ¡°Give me your phone and I¡¯ll add my number. You can call or text me whenever with questions, if there¡¯s anything else about our story that needs ironing out.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I hand it over, watching as he works. ¡°Where do you live?¡±


    ¡°I rent an apartment here in the city. Haven¡¯t decided if it¡¯s worth buying anything yet.¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re not sure if you¡¯re staying?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°But I thought you were working for your brother?¡±


    There¡¯s a slight edge to his voice that I can¡¯t ce. ¡°I run an investmentpany he¡¯s co-founded,¡± he says. ¡°Together with Cole Porter and Nichs Park.¡±


    ¡°Which is why you were at that party.¡±


    ¡°Which is why I was at that party,¡± he agrees.


    I shake my head. ¡°There is pretty much nothing about your profession that I understand.¡±


    Liam snorts. ¡°Trust me, the feeling¡¯s mutual. I don¡¯t have the faintest idea how to mb¨¦ something.¡±


    ¡°Alcohol in a pan, and a bit of fire. You¡¯re wee.¡±


    There¡¯s real amusement in his smile. ¡°I¡¯ll bear that in mind if I ever decide to cook.¡±


    ¡°Make sure your fire rm is on first.¡±


    His smile widens. ¡°Let me know when you need my services at the restaurant.¡±


    ¡°To cook?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he snorts, ¡°to work my magic on your ex.¡±


    I tug at the cor of my hoodie. ¡°It¡¯s just to make him¡­ to give him a bit of his own medicine, and to stop him trying to talk to me.¡±


    ¡°Whatever the aim, I¡¯m game,¡± Liam says. ¡°What did he do, anyway?¡±


    The waiter arrives with our coffee, giving me a convenient excuse to gather my thoughts. The stark fact of Jason¡¯s betrayal, of the scene I¡¯d walked in on, still makes my cheeks heat up with shame. I don¡¯t need Liam to know how pathetic I felt about Jason sleeping with one of the waitresses right under my nose.


    ¡°We grew apart,¡± I say, reaching for my iced coffee. ¡°So, the n is for me to be myself, and our origin story is a modified version of the truth?¡±


    ¡°Small lies are easier than big ones,¡± Liam confirms, with the ease of someone who lies for a living.


    I take a sip of my drink. ¡°Right.¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call you with the details for next week when I have them. Where do you live? I¡¯ll pick you up.¡±


    ¡°Just outside of the city. I can send you the address.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He downs thest of his coffee, already motioning the waiter for the check. ¡°Sorry, Maddie, but I have to get back to work.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I get that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to let me know when you need me to white knight at Marco¡¯s.¡± He signs our check and hands it back to the waiter, barely sparing him a nce. ¡°That reminds me-we¡¯re going to a nice restaurant next week. Do you have something to wear?¡±


    I look down at my sweatshirt and back up to him. ¡°Of course I do. I don¡¯t always walk around like this.¡±


    He stands, smiling with satisfaction. ¡°You¡¯d look lovely even if you did,¡± he says, and I¡¯m sure that¡¯s a lie. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you soon.¡±


    ¡°See you soon,¡± I echo, watching as he strides out of the square and disappears into the City¡¯s mass of suit-d bodies, bing one with the ambition of the ce.


    There¡¯s no way this is going to end well, but as I lean back in the chair and contemte theing week¡­ the only thing I know for certain is that it¡¯s going to be fun and unexpected.


    Spending time with Liam always was.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 11

    The car pulls to a stop outside a brick mid-rise, no more than four stories tall. I shoot Madison a text to let her know I¡¯m outside.


    A smattering of unease sets in as I look out the window. As far as magic tricks go, this might be the most daring one I¡¯ve attempted yet.


    Pulling a fianc¨¦e out of a hat.


    Vanishing her into thin air again in the next.


    If this works out, I¡¯ll owe her a hell of a lot more than just pretending to be her rebound in front of that cap-wearing ex of hers.


    I turn my attention back to my phone-when the US market closes, another one opens-and monitor a few of my ounts. It¡¯s not until the driver clears his throat that I look up.


    Maddie walks down the steps in a pair of t shoes, a ck dress hugging her form. It¡¯s long-sleeved, and it goes to her knees, but the fit is everything her hoodie the other day had not been.


    She¡¯s not the girl I remember from childhood anymore.Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    She¡¯s a grown woman, and it shows. Oh, she¡¯s not the sinfully hot kind of woman, the kind to grace the cover of magazines. Don¡¯t get me wrong-she¡¯s sexy as hell. But it¡¯s the understated kind. The one that tells a man this is a woman who¡¯s able to give you advice, one who won¡¯t be afraid to tell you what she likes in bed. It¡¯s the girl-next-door vibe, and I¡¯m finding it far more enticing than I should.


    I open the door for her. ¡°You look great.¡±


    ¡°Better than a hoodie,¡± she says-putting her in the running for Understatement of the Year-and slides into the car.


    She fastens her seat belt with a huff, the sleek ckness of her hair swinging forward. Had I noticed her bangs before? I don¡¯t think I had.


    ¡°This is going to be interesting.¡±


    ¡°Nervous?¡±


    She looks at me, and the sh in her eyes is familiar where nothing else about her is. Fierce determination, the kind I¡¯d see before she challenged me to a bike race down the hill in our neighborhood.


    For all the other things that have changed, this one hasn¡¯t, even if the eyes staring back at me are now framed by long, mascaradenshes.


    ¡°I won¡¯t admit it if you won¡¯t,¡± she challenges.


    ¡°And I never will.¡±


    ¡°So I won¡¯t either.¡± She shoots me a grin, triumphant, and holds out her hand. ¡°My left finger is feeling awfully empty.¡±


    ¡°Look who¡¯sing around to a bit of bling,¡± I say, reaching into the pocket of my suit.


    ¡°I think it¡¯ll help me get into character,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m trying to think like someone who would be engaged to you might.¡±


    I snort. ¡°And how would someone engaged to me think?¡±


    ¡°See, that¡¯s the thing. I don¡¯t know yet. I¡¯m still workshopping.¡±


    ¡°Just be yourself,¡± I say, sliding the ring onto her finger. Courtesy of the sizing, it fits perfectly. We both watch in silence as it sparkles in the dim lighting.


    She pulls her hand back. ¡°Just be myself?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, though I¡¯m not sure if my advice is sound. ¡°Perhaps just a bit less¡­¡±


    ¡°A bit less what?¡±


    ¡°Opinionated? The Maddie I remember had opinions on everything.¡±


    She rolls her eyes, looking so much like her ten-year-old self that I want to grin. ¡°One of us had to.¡±


    ¡°Ouch.¡± I clutch a hand to my chest. ¡°On the eve of my proposal.¡±


    Maddie crosses her legs, and my eyes dart down of their own volition. If she notices, she doesn¡¯tment, eyes on the ring.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never worn anything like this,¡± she says. ¡°Did you really think a woman would want that giant ring? The first one you pointed at?¡±


    I snort. ¡°Yes.¡±


    She sounds disbelieving. ¡°The women you date would want that?¡±


    ¡°Are you still trying to get into character?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to wrap my head around it all.¡± She nces down at her ring, twirling it around her finger so only the tinum band shows. ¡°I¡¯ve searched on the inte about the people we¡¯re meeting.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve done your homework,¡± I say.


    ¡°Tried to, at least. Knowing their names and what they look like won¡¯t give me an edge when ites to talking points. Unless you want me airing how little I know about steel, I think I¡¯ll be quiet.¡±


    ¡°Sit there and look pretty,¡± I tell her, ¡°and I¡¯ll be happy.¡±


    She rolls her eyes again. ¡°I know, I know, my job is to make you look good.¡±


    I grin. ¡°A fake girlfriend seems far easier than a real one. I should have done this ages ago.¡±


    ¡°Yes, why haven¡¯t you?¡± she teases. ¡°Imagine all the time you might¡¯ve saved.¡±


    ¡°A lost opportunity.¡± My eyes snag on her hand, resting between us on the leather seat, and the ring on her finger. I hadn¡¯t given it a moment¡¯s thought all week, but seeing it on her is different.


    I reach out and wrap my fingers around hers.


    Madison looks at me. ¡°What?¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°We might have to touch tonight. A few instances here and there, just enough to make it look realistic.¡±


    Her fingers soften under mine, but her gaze doesn¡¯t. ¡°Like your hand on my lower back the other day.¡±


    ¡°Like that, yes.¡±


    Maddie nods, her eyes holding every bit of challenge I¡¯ve ever seen, the same ember that had sparked just a few minutes ago.


    ¡°I¡¯ll y my role,¡± she says. ¡°And I have the date and time for you to y yours.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 12

    ¡°Hmm,¡± I say. Her hand is warm and soft beneath mine. ¡°And when¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Drinks after work tomorrow,¡± she says. ¡°Everyone will be there, both kitchen staff and wait crew.¡±


    ¡°Including your ex.¡±


    ¡°Including my ex,¡± she says, voice low.


    I squeeze her hand. ¡°I¡¯ll be there to hold up my part of the bargain.¡±


    The car slides to a smooth stop outside an innocuous brownstone. I thank the driver and open the door, but there¡¯s not even a sign on this ce.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be right,¡± I say. ¡°Walker sent me the address, but this isn¡¯t a restaurant.¡±


    Madison¡¯s voice is high. ¡°Oh, this isn¡¯t just any restaurant! Renault¡¯s is one of the city¡¯s best, after Marco¡¯s.¡± Her sparkling gaze slides to mine. ¡°You know, their waiting list is legendary. When did you decide on this dinner?¡±


    ¡°Last week.¡± I offer her my arm. ¡°But nobody says no to Albert Walker.¡±


    Not even me, I add to myself, or I wouldn¡¯t be here with a fake fianc¨¦e.


    Madison leads me around the building, stopping at an inconspicuous entrance into the basement.


    ¡°Here?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says, and there¡¯s no mistaking the excitement in her voice. ¡°It¡¯s in the basement.¡±


    Stepping through the door is like entering a different world. The floor is cobblestone, though how they managed that, I don¡¯t know. Dim lighting gives the small ce a rustic charm, as does the softly ying violinist in the corner.


    The Walkers and their wives-they should form a rock band with that name-are already here. Albert and Dennis both stand as we arrive, the former smiling and thetter scowling. It seems the apple had rolled far away from the tree on that one.


    ¡°Carter,¡± Albert says, extending a hand over the table. I shake his in a firm grip, my other still resting on Maddie¡¯s back.


    ¡°Liam, please,¡± I say. ¡°Dennis, it¡¯s nice to see you again.¡±


    ¡°Likewise.¡±


    ¡°This is Rita, my wife, and Beth, my daughter-inw.¡± He sweeps his hands to the two women at the table, both of whom give me smiles far friendlier than the son.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you,¡± I say, pulling out the chair for Maddie. ¡°This is my fianc¨¦e, Madison.¡±


    Maddie¡¯s voice is soft with a smile. ¡°Thank you for inviting me along tonight.¡±


    ¡°Of course we did, honey,¡± Albert says. ¡°We like to get to know our potential business partners, and that includes their partners.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°Nobody knows them better,¡± Rita adds, her coiffed hair so stiff that it doesn¡¯t move when she shakes her hair. But her smile is all warmth.


    Maddie opens her menu, sucked into it like those board games in horror stories, gone for the world. I can see when it happens, seated beside her. The next question goes right over her head.


    ¡°She¡¯s a foodie,¡± I reply to Dennis, who asked what field Maddie works in. I drape an arm around the back of her chair in a casual mark of ownership. ¡°A chef, actually. I usually let her order for me-it¡¯s more exciting that way.¡±


    It¡¯s aplete ad lib, but it¡¯s a crowd pleaser. Albert nods and looks down at his menu. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll do the same and let the youngdy pick my food,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m feeling adventurous.¡±


    ¡°First time in thirty years that¡¯s happened,¡± Rita quips.


    Maddie looks up from her menu, smiling at the missed joke.


    ¡°You¡¯re picking my food tonight,¡± Albert tells her. ¡°I¡¯ve been informed by your man here that you¡¯re a gourmand, and I want the same treatment you give his and your own tastebuds.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what the heck,¡± Rita says, putting down her own menu. ¡°Why don¡¯t I get the same?¡±


    Maddie blinks twice, giving me a view of longshes sweeping over her cheeks.


    y along, I beg.


    But my prayer is unnecessary, because her smile is effortless. She¡¯s delighted. ¡°Truly?¡± she asks, like she¡¯s won a prize.


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± Albert agrees.


    ¡°You already know you¡¯re picking mine,¡± I say, my own menu still unopened on the table. I give her a crooked smile. ¡°You know what I like, sweetheart.¡±


    Her breathing hitches once, but she doesn¡¯t break stride.


    ¡°All right.¡± Her voice is that of a toon sergeant on the first day of boot camp. ¡°With the exception of Liam, give me the quick and easy. Are you vegetarians? Any dietary restrictions?¡±


    ¡°No and no,¡± Albert responds. ¡°No weaklings in the Walker family.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll have the steak,¡± Dennis says, putting down his menu. His scowl has deepened, even as his wife¡¯s smile has widened.


    ¡°Count me in,¡± she says.


    What a match they make.


    Five minutester, and Maddie has ordered us each an appetizer, entr¨¦e and dessert, speaking to the waiter like it¡¯s a differentnguage. I have no idea which of the sets is for me, but eating a bit of odd fish or a mushroom I don¡¯t fancy feels like a small price to maintain the ruse.


    My gamble pays off when the food arrives. The smell of truffle, cheese and pasta hangs thick in the air. ¡°Marvelous,¡± Rita says. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have ordered this if you hadn¡¯t suggested it, dear.¡±


    ¡°Renault¡¯s sauce is famous. I had to choose it.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯d you find this one?¡± Albert asks me, wiping at his mustache with a linen napkin. ¡°She seems far too good to be cozied up to an investment banker.¡±


    Under the table, Madison¡¯s leg bumps mine. I don¡¯t need to look at her to know it¡¯s her version of I told you so. They¡¯ve asked for the origin story, and we¡¯re not even halfway through the evening.


    I lean back in my chair, like I¡¯m settling in for a good story. ¡°I met her before I was a banker,¡± I say. ¡°Otherwise she would never have given me the time of day.¡±


    Maddieughs. ¡°That¡¯s the secret.¡±


    Rita puts down her winess. ¡°So you¡¯ve been together a long time, then?¡±


    ¡°Not at all, actually.¡± Maddie looks over at me, and there¡¯s warmth in her eyes, a summer meadow beckoning. ¡°We reconnected recently, when Liam came back to town.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 13

    I let my own gaze soften. ¡°Bumped into her at an event-she was catering.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± Dennis¡¯s wife says. ¡°That is too cute!¡±


    Maddie sighs. ¡°It didn¡¯t feel it at the time. I¡¯m standing in a stained chef¡¯s jacket, my hands elbow-deep in ting food, and he walks into the kitchen in a suit.¡±


    Everyoneughs at that, including me, my hand fitting around her shoulder. She¡¯s a natural at this.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You knew each other?¡± Rita asks. ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°We grew up in the same town, right on the ocean.¡±


    ¡°We were neighbors,¡± Maddie adds, ¡°and good friends.¡±


    I reach for my ss of wine, shaking my head like I¡¯m cursing the past. ¡°If only we¡¯d known how we¡¯d end up, we could have gotten together sooner.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t ready for me sooner,¡± Maddie teases, and the group breaks intoughter again. It¡¯s delighted-they¡¯re enjoying our little show.


    I should have gotten her a more expensive ring.


    I hold up my right hand, as if I surrender. ¡°You¡¯re probably right.¡±


    ¡°How was he as a kid?¡± Albert asks Maddie, his voice just as gruff as usual. Is this a test?


    What¡¯s the right answer?


    ¡°Brave,¡± she says. ¡°He used to love jumping from the highest cliffs and racing through the forest on his bike. I did my best to keep up.¡±


    ¡°You always did,¡± I say.


    She shoots me a grateful smile. ¡°I tried,¡± she amends. ¡°And he was great at math in school-he was a Mathlete. I definitely had a crush on him, but he was always so busy with life that I doubt he noticed.¡± She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, the fall of her dark hair shifting. Is she blushing?


    Damn it all, I can¡¯t see!


    ¡°He¡¯s noticed now,¡± Dennis¡¯s wife says.


    Madison nods. ¡°Finally!¡±


    Laughter rolls across the table again, some genuinely amused, some polite, and some, I reckon, bewildered.


    That¡¯s mine.


    Her story isn¡¯t at all how I remembered things. Was she just ying to our audience? Embellishing the truth?


    The conversation spins on around us, about Walker Steel, Seattle¡¯s newest building projects, the restaurant Maddie works at. There¡¯s no shortage of topics, and it isn¡¯t until dessert that Albert brings up business, the issue that¡¯s been running beneath the evening like a steady ocean current.


    ¡°Thank you foring out tonight,¡± he says. ¡°You can tell a lot from a man by thepany he keeps.¡±


    I incline my head. ¡°Likewise,¡± I say. ¡°Yours is lovely.¡±


    Ritaughs, as does his daughter-inw. Dennis doesn¡¯t, but then again, he seems incapable of the emotion.


    Albert puts his napkin down next to the passion fruit cr¨¨me br?l¨¦e he¡¯s just demolished. ¡°Tell you what, why don¡¯t the two of youe up to our cabin next weekend. It¡¯s arge ce, you¡¯ll have a guest room all to yourself, and you and I can talk more over a day of shooting.¡±


    I tamp down the urge to smile, meeting Albert¡¯s gaze straight-on.


    He wants to test my values, sure, but more than that he wants to test mymitment. What potential investor wouldmit not only an evening, but an entire weekend?


    He¡¯s checking if Porter, Park and Carter will go the extra mile. Albert Walker is ying a game of chicken, but if he thinks I¡¯ll be the one who veers first, he doesn¡¯t understand the first thing about me.


    ¡°We¡¯d be delighted to,¡± I say, raising my ss. ¡°To a mutually beneficial friendship.¡±


    ¡°To a mutually beneficial friendship,¡± he echoes, before looking at Maddie. ¡°And to fianc¨¦es with excellent taste in food.¡±


    I turn to Maddie as well, a shiver of dark delight running through me at the warmth in her eyes. ¡°To fianc¨¦es.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for tonight,¡± I say. ¡°I had a lovely time.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one we ought to thank,¡± Rita says, a hand on the open door to their car. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll look at a menu the same way again.¡±


    I smile, leaning into Liam¡¯s arm around my waist. ¡°Going for the unexpected usually pays off.¡±


    ¡°And if not, you¡¯ve had an adventure. I¡¯ll see the two of you next weekend.¡± She disappears into the car and the Walkers roll out of view.


    Liam releases a breath. ¡°That,¡± he says, ¡°was excellent.¡±


    I look up at him. ¡°I told you they¡¯d ask about our origin story.¡±


    ¡°You did,¡± he admits. ¡°They bought it, too.¡±


    ¡°Only because we stuck close to the truth, like you said we should.¡±


    He drops his arm from my waist. ¡°It¡¯s not toote for a celebratory drink, is it?¡±


    I look down at my watch. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think it is. Know a good ce around here?¡±


    ¡°As a matter of fact, I do.¡± Liam¡¯s smile is crooked, like he¡¯sughing at some inside joke only he knows.


    I narrow my eyes at him, but the look he gives me back is angelic.


    ¡°Come on, Maddie.¡±


    Ten minutester we¡¯re in a rooftop bar,plete with smooth, jazzy music and intimidating decor. Seattle¡¯s skyline unravels all around us, lights stretching as far as the eye can see.


    I sink down into one of thefortable sofa chairs, crossing my legs. ¡°I¡¯ve never been up here. What was this ce called? Legacy?¡±


    Liam nods, reaching for his ss of whiskey. ¡°A lot of people overlook it. It¡¯s one of Cole¡¯s properties, actually.¡±


    ¡°Cole?¡± And then it clicks. ¡°Cole Porter?¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 14

    The man I¡¯d worked for several times-and the man Liam works with.


    A small but important distinction.


    ¡°The very one.¡± He takes a sip of his whiskey, closing his eyes as it goes down. ¡°Have you taken acting sses since I knew youst?¡±


    ¡°You thought my performance was that good?¡±


    ¡°It was wless,¡± he says. ¡°The Madison I knew was terrible at lying.¡±


    ¡°Lying and acting feel different.¡± I sip my own drink, looking past him to the group of suited men doing shots. Here on a business trip, no doubt.


    ¡°They¡¯re not the same?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps they are, but they don¡¯t feel it. One is putting on an act, leaning into a different identity¡­ the other is just bald-faced lying. Does that make sense?¡± I shake my head. ¡°It¡¯s toote for these kinds of philosophical discussions.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyebrow rises. ¡°Do you want toe with me to their cabin next weekend?¡±


    ¡°You already said we would.¡±


    ¡°I can get you out of it, if you¡¯d rather not.¡± His gaze returns to his ss of whiskey, a tendril of hair falling over his forehead. ¡°I¡¯m aware it¡¯s more than you bargained for.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you need me there? To make you seem likable?¡±


    His lip quirks. ¡°Under normal circumstances I¡¯d resent the implication that I¡¯m not likable on my own¡­ but yes. I probably do, if the man is to ovee his hatred of bankers.¡±


    ¡°Why does he hate bankers so much?¡±


    Liam raises an eyebrow. ¡°Because he¡¯s normal, I suppose. Who doesn¡¯t? Wall Street has the worst reputation in the country, and often well-deservedly so.¡±


    I lean on the armrest of the chair, my head in my hands. Liam¡¯s not looking at me, which gives me plenty of time to study him. The boy I¡¯d known, elongated and hardened and poured into a tailored suit.


    ¡°Why did you work there, then?¡±


    He lifts one shoulder in a nonchnt shrug. ¡°I was good at it. Why not?¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem like theplete answer.¡±


    ¡°Nor have you given me yours,¡± he says, inclining his ss to me. ¡°If you join me at the cabin, I¡¯ll find a way to even out the score.¡±


    ¡°The score?¡±


    ¡°For you helping me more than I¡¯m helping you.¡±


    ¡°You are helping me,¡± I say. ¡°In two nights¡¯ time, I¡¯ll be parading you in front of my ex.¡±This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly enough to even the score. One night inparison to an entire weekend?¡±


    I bite my lip, considering. Liam¡¯s eyes trace the movement and a pulse of unexpected heat sweeps through me.


    ¡°Do you have arge, fancy kitchen in your rental?¡±


    Liam snorts. ¡°Not what I expected you to say. But yeah, it¡¯s pretty big.¡±


    ¡°Do you have appliances?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea.¡±


    ¡°I want to cook in it a few times, then,¡± I say. ¡°In the interest of evening out the score.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyebrow rises. ¡°Agreed,¡± he says. ¡°To satisfy my curiosity-why?¡±


    I trace the rim of my winess, not wanting to meet his gaze. Everything about Liam screams mary sess.


    ¡°My kitchen is tiny,¡± I admit, which is an understatement. It¡¯s a shoebox with a shitty oven and two stovetops.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Liam says. ¡°And for a chef like yourself, space is of the essence.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the key ingredient.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± He leans back in the chair, ss dangling from his fingers. ¡°For as long as you¡¯re my fake fianc¨¦e, my kitchen is yours. What do you n on cooking? Can¡¯t get enough of it at your job?¡±


    For a brief moment, I consider telling him about my application for the culinary fellowship. About the five dishes I have to prep for my entrance exam-if I even make it that far.


    ¡°I need to test out new dishes,¡± I say. It¡¯s not a lie.


    ¡°Do you want to open your own restaurant?¡±


    I smile. ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that obvious, is it?¡±


    ¡°To me it is. Sometimes I fall asleep picturing it.¡± I close my eyes, pretending. ¡°It changes from day to day. The decor and the location, not to mention the menu. I have so many ideas. I know it¡¯s going to be rustic, though, and focus onmunal eating. I¡¯ve always liked that.¡±


    ¡°Communal, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And I¡¯ve always toyed with this idea¡­ it¡¯s a bit unorthodox.¡±


    ¡°Hit me with it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to have some sort of buy-one-meal-give-one-away policy, so that every dish I serve also helps the city¡¯s food shelter. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s even viable, but I want to look into it. Run the numbers.¡±


    Liam¡¯s voice has a smile in it. ¡°You¡¯ve changed in some ways, Maddie, but not in all.¡±


    ¡°You were always a dreamer with your eye set on the prize.¡±


    A blush creeps up my cheeks at the offhandment. It might mean nothing to him, but I don¡¯t have a single friend in this city that I¡¯ve known from childhood. Especially not one who¡¯s grown up into a man with a capital M.


    ¡°So,¡± he says, draping an arm over the back of the lounge chair he¡¯s sitting on. The look he gives me is warm. ¡°Tell me the role I¡¯m supposed to y in two nights¡¯ time as your fake fianc¨¦.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 15

    I re-cross my legs. ¡°Not fianc¨¦, I think. Boyfriend.¡±


    His eyebrows rise. ¡°You dislike the rock that much?¡±


    My fingers curl around the beautiful diamond, as if it has ears of its own. Don¡¯t listen to him. ¡°Not at all. I just don¡¯t think fianc¨¦ would be all that believable.¡±


    ¡°The Walkers bought it.¡±


    ¡°The Walkers don¡¯t know either of us as well as my co-workers do,¡± I say.


    ¡°Good point,¡± Liam says, a smile lurking in the corner of his mouth. ¡°I¡¯ll be your boyfriend, then. Origin story?¡±


    ¡°Same one. Or do you object?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. And your ex?¡± His mouth curls around the word, like it¡¯s distasteful. ¡°Will he bring a new woman there?¡±


    My fingers tighten around the ss I¡¯m holding. Sally will probably be there. If they¡¯re together or not is a different story-judging by the looks she shoots me, I don¡¯t think she got what she wanted when she slept with him.


    She might have broken us up, but Jason isn¡¯t dering his intentions to her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say.


    Liam¡¯s smile grows crooked. ¡°The aim is to make him jealous, then.¡±


    I nod once, because it¡¯s petty and because Jason might not care at all. If he does, it¡¯s only because he¡¯s arrogant as hell.


    ¡°All right,¡± Liam says. ¡°I know how to make a man jealous-but I need your permission first.¡±


    ¡°My permission?¡±


    ¡°To kiss you.¡±


    ¡°To kiss me?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, smile growing wider. ¡°I won¡¯t be able to fulfill my purpose if I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    It¡¯s the answer thatunches a thousand replies in my mind. None of them reach shore, though, because I can¡¯t formte a response. I take a gulp of wine and focus on stringing words together.


    ¡°If we have to, then¡­ sure.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyebrows rise. ¡°If we have to? Your words are knives, Maddie.¡±


    ¡°And your ego is bulletproof.¡± Warmth creeps up my chest, my neck, and I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s from the alcohol alone. ¡°So we¡¯re going to engage in PDA?¡±


    ¡°If the moment calls for it,¡± he says, voice lowering. ¡°As long as I know you won¡¯t ruin my performance by pushing me away halfway through.¡±


    My lips feel dry. ¡°Kiss me well enough and I won¡¯t have to.¡±


    Liam¡¯s smile widens. ¡°You know better than to challenge me, Maddie.¡±


    ¡°Do I?¡± I take a sip of my drink, my eyes never leaving his. Something sparks in them as he registers the meaning of my words, a sh of heat.


    What are we doing?


    ¡°I see,¡± he murmurs. ¡°And what does-¡±


    ¡°Liam Carter?¡± A dark-haired woman puts her hand on the back of his chair, a smile curving her lips. Her blow-dried hair has artfully ced highlights.


    I slide back in my seat.


    ¡°It¡¯s been months,¡± she says, only addressing him. ¡°We¡¯ve missed you around here.¡±


    He leans back in his chair, like nothing has happened, like we weren¡¯t just interrupted. ¡°I¡¯ve been busy,¡± he says, and the drawl of his voice makes my brow furrow. It¡¯s simr to the voice he¡¯d used when we first met the Walkers, and it¡¯s best described in one word.


    Uninterested.


    ¡°If you ever get unbusy,¡± the woman says, giving me a polite nce, ¡°you know where to find me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll bear that in mind,¡± Liam says.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    She gives him a final smile before sauntering off, letting me admire the way she walks in sky-high heels. It¡¯s a skill I¡¯ll never have cause to master.


    Liam knocks back his ss of whiskey, his eyes not meeting mine.


    Right.


    ¡°There¡¯s one thing we haven¡¯t discussed,¡± I say.


    Liam inclines his head. ¡°Lay it on me.¡±


    ¡°While we¡¯re doing this, we can¡¯t be involved with other people. Not that we¡¯re involved with each other, but¡­¡± My treacherous eyes find the woman across the bar, sitting with her friends. Whatever her and Liam¡¯s rtionship is like, it had clearly been intimate. ¡°When it¡¯s over, our so-called split is friendly. No drama.¡±


    There¡¯s no way I¡¯ll have a boyfriend who cheats on me again, not even a fake one.


    Liam raises an eyebrow. ¡°You thought I¡¯d sleep around while you wear my ring on your finger?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admit. ¡°We just met again.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m doing this to prove to Walker that my values are in the right ce, and fidelity is certainly one of them.¡±


    ¡°The best way to not seem like a yboy is to stop acting like one?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Something like that, I suppose.¡±


    A suspicion takes hold. ¡°Why did thedies in the jewelry store know you?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± he says, smiling crookedly, ¡°I am a very good customer.¡±


    I meet his gaze with my own. If nothing else, this little exchange has cleared me of any foolish notions. The absolutest thing I need in my life is another man who sleeps around.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 16

    I¡¯m not getting burned again.


    ¡°As long as we understand one another,¡± I say, raising my ss to his.


    ¡°We do.¡± He touches his crystal tumbler to mine, the deep green of his eyes almost ck.


    I¡¯m on the line for dinner service, working fish, with Jason right beside me. It had once been my favorite station in the kitchen-the ability to see Jason¡¯s work on the meat station, his skilled hands on the knife.


    Now it¡¯s torture, and every time our elbows bump, I have to stop myself from recoiling.


    ¡°Two more polenta sides, and I need them now!¡± Marco¡¯s voicees from the pass. ¡°I have two sirloins that are dying out here!¡±


    I nce down the line to where Alma is working sides, her hands flying across the handles of the pots. ¡°One minute out, chef!¡±


    ¡°Make that thirty seconds!¡±


    I wince at themand in Marco¡¯s voice. The restaurant is filled to capacity, and he¡¯s running the pass himself, which means there are several high-level VIPs out there.


    An intense Saturday-night dinner service means there¡¯s only one possible choice for the drinks after work.


    Lots, and lots of shots.


    We don¡¯t speak about it during service, but I know the prospect of letting loose is fueling all the cooks in the kitchen. The anticipation of greener pastures at the end of this service, all of us up to our elbows in the spirit of teamwork.


    ¡°Scallops in two!¡± I call.


    ¡°Mashed ready in two!¡± Alma echoes.


    Dinners like this feel like marathons and sprints at the same time, and my skin is mmy beneath the chef¡¯s jacket. By the time we te ourst meal, the mood is electric.


    ¡°Can¡¯t believe I had to ¡¯86 the sirloin before the service was done,¡± Jason says at my side. He¡¯s leaning on the counter, a towel slung over his shoulder. ¡°Great job on fish tonight. You really held it together.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Anything less, and I would seem ungrateful. Anything more, and our within-earshot co-workers would know we¡¯re not friends anymore. With the exception of Alma, they don¡¯t know why we broke up.


    ¡°Tonight¡¯ll be fun,¡± he continues. ¡°We should be able to talk.¡±


    I look around, at Marco¡¯s back by the pass, but nobody¡¯s paying attention.


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s no point in that.¡±


    Before he can say anything else, I head to the changing rooms. Irritation rushes through my veins like hotva, mingled with emotions I know well by now.


    Shame and anger. But if Jason hasn¡¯t driven me away from Marco¡¯s yet, he sure as hell won¡¯t now, and especially not when Liam and I will rub his nose in it.


    Alma is waiting for me when I emerge from the restaurant, already dressed in ck jeans and boots, a cigarette in hand. She stubs it out when she sees me.


    ¡°Are we going to get something to eat before we join the others at the bar?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°And I have to brief you about what¡¯s about to happen.¡±


    Her eyebrows rise. ¡°That sounds ominous.¡±


    ¡°It might be,¡± I say, pulling her toward our favoritete-night sandwich joint around the corner. ¡°Do you remember my old childhood friend we met at Cole Porter¡¯s? Who came here to meet me?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Oh, please tell me this is good.¡±


    I give a shaky chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s insane, that¡¯s what it is.¡±


    Alma hardly believes the story, and hearing me tell it, I barely do either.


    ¡°So it¡¯s all fake?¡± she asks for the tenth time.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s just an act, the whole thing. We both get what we want from it.¡± I stop by the trash can, throwing away the hot dog wrapper.


    ¡°Mhm,¡± she says, looking like the Cheshire cat. ¡°You know this is the start of a movie. You¡¯re going to get married for real when this is all said and done.¡±


    ¡°We are not,¡± I say. ¡°We couldn¡¯t be more different. He¡¯s a high-flier now, and all he cares about is money and status.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± she says.


    ¡°And the women he dates now are nothing like me, Alma.¡± My hand curls into a fist at my sides, thinking about the woman at the bar and the beautifully manicureddies in the jewelry store. Most days I don¡¯t even wear makeup, since the kitchen gets so hot.


    ¡°Right,¡± she says. ¡°And he could have asked any of them to help him, but he asked you, because he wanted you to be his fake fianc¨¦e.¡±


    I shake my head, intent on replying when my phone buzzes in my pocket. And because the Universe loves coincidences, it¡¯s Liam.


    Liam: I¡¯ll be there in fifteen.


    My steps lengthen. ¡°Come on,¡± I tell Alma. ¡°We should join the others.¡±This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    The run-down bar where Marco¡¯s kitchen and wait staff party has a charm that onlyes from heavy use. The ce smells like beer and memories-in-the-making.


    ¡°Here they are!¡± calls Enrique, one of Marco¡¯s waiters, when we enter. His wide smile enfolds us both. ¡°The lost cooks!¡±


    ¡°What took you so long?¡± Maria asks, as people move around the high table to give us space. Her boyfriend is sitting next to her, amon fixture at these events.


    My gaze snags on Jason. Sally is standing next to him. They¡¯re ignoring one another, but I imagine I can see the tether between them like it was made out of shiny rope.


    ¡°Maddie, have you heard the news?¡± Enrique asks.


    ¡°No. What¡¯s happened?¡±


    ¡°Jason just got shortlisted for the culinary institute¡¯s fellowship!¡±


    Beside him, Maria rolls her eyes. The crew¡¯s opinion on Jason is divided-some think his arrogance is justified, others do not. I might be the only one who¡¯s been a card-carrying member of both factions, though never at the same time.


    Jason runs a hand over his neck, looking over at me. ¡°I got the email just a few hours ago,¡± he says.


    The words are like a bucket of cold water dumped over me. I¡¯d checked my inbox after work, and it had been empty.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 17

    ¡°Congrattions.¡± The word feels ufortableing out of my mouth.


    ¡°Never had any real doubts,¡± he adds, drawing a range of guffaws and ah, Jason from our co-workers.


    But then his gaze moves from me to something behind me. A secondter and a strong arm settles around my waist, the scent of sandalwood and shaving cream washing over me.


    ¡°Sorry I¡¯mte,¡± Liam drawls, his voice cocked only for me. Something presses against my hair-his lips? ¡°I got caught up with work.¡±


    ¡°Did everything go all right?¡±


    ¡°It did,¡± he says, like we both know what I¡¯m referring to. ¡°They caved.¡±


    ¡°They always do,¡± I tease.


    His voice sounds like crushed velvet. ¡°You would know.¡±


    The implication in his words is heavy, but it¡¯s his tone that make my cheeks heat. I¡¯m saved from answering when Alma nods to Liam from across the table. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again.¡±


    ¡°Likewise,¡± he says smoothly. My skin feels electric from the touch of his hand on my lower back. The dark suit he¡¯s in makes the rest of us look shabby inparison. I don¡¯t look at Jason directly, but I can feel his gaze like a force field.


    Liam presses another kiss to my head. ¡°I¡¯ll get us something to drink.¡±


    ¡°My usual?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m on it,¡± he says. I bite my lip to keep from chuckling. He has no idea what my usual is.


    Jason¡¯s narrowed eyes lock onto mine. I give him a nd smile.


    How does that feel?


    Liam returns a minuteter and hands me a ss of white wine. He raises an eyebrow, the question clear. Good choice?


    ¡°Perfect,¡± I say.


    The others have questions for him-most notably about when we¡¯d met-and Liam handles it like he¡¯s born to be an actor. He slides into a booth with me at his side, bracing a suit-d arm on the table. ¡°I¡¯ve known Maddie a long time,¡± he tells Enrique. ¡°Long before she knew how to cook.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always known how to cook,¡± I protest.


    He drapes an arm around my shoulders. ¡°You didn¡¯t when you set off the fire rm trying to make us cinnamon rolls. The fire truck came.¡±


    I roll my eyes, but I¡¯m smiling as the othersugh. ¡°Only because you told me they were your favorite.¡±


    ¡°And I was very touched by the effort,¡± he says, tugging me closer. ¡°Nowe on, guys. Are your after-work parties usually this tame?¡±


    Enrique and Ryan trip over themselves to assure him that no, they most certainly aren¡¯t, and before long Liam has ordered a tray of shots for the entire table. If he didn¡¯t have the others¡¯ attention yet, he has it now.


    There¡¯s nothing that¡¯ll win over wait staff like free alcohol after a dinner service from hell.


    Liam pushes my hair back, bending so his mouth is by my ear. ¡°This is going well so far,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Your ex is staring daggers at me.¡±


    ¡°I hope you wore your armor,¡± I murmur back. ¡°Because he might strike soon.¡±


    Liam¡¯s chuckle is all-masculine. ¡°He¡¯s wee to try.¡±


    And try he does. I watch as he brushes off Sally¡¯s attempts at getting him to y darts, advancing to our booth. He slides into the spot Enrique just left.


    Jason¡¯s smile isn¡¯t friendly. ¡°This must be a new thing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s pretty new,¡± I confirm. ¡°But considering we knew each other for years beforehand¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been seamless,¡± Liam says. He reaches for his beer and Jason¡¯s eyes snag on the watch at his wrist. They narrow.


    ¡°What do you work with, if I might ask?¡±


    ¡°Investment banking,¡± Liam responds. His voice is smooth like the polished rocks of a river-like he¡¯s doing Jason a favor by responding.


    ¡°A banker,¡± Jason repeats. ¡°I have to give it to you, I never thought Maddie would go for someone in that profession.¡±


    Liam¡¯s voice is cutting. ¡°Perhaps she just hadn¡¯t met the right one.¡±


    And perhaps she doesn¡¯t like being spoken about like she¡¯s not here, I think. ¡°We can¡¯t all be cooks.¡± I reach for the leftover shots on the table and push one to Jason, another to Liam, and raise my own. ¡°To new rtionships.¡±


    ¡°To new rtionships,¡± Liam echoes.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    Jason¡¯s fingers are clenched tight around his shot.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to toast?¡± I ask sweetly. ¡°After all, aren¡¯t you and Sally a new rtionship?¡±


    Jason shakes his head once, but it¡¯s not a no. It¡¯s an I can¡¯t fucking believe this.


    ¡°To new rtionships,¡± he mutters. We all toss back our shots.


    The mood at the table is arctic.


    Jason opens his mouth with narrowed eyes, but the look I give him stops him in his tracks. Whatever you¡¯re about to say, I tell him with my eyes, I don¡¯t want to hear it.


    ¡°Darts?¡± I ask Liam.


    The small, crooked smile he gives me is filled with so much intimate heat that my stomach knots. ¡°I might let you win this time,¡± he says, raising an eyebrow.


    Christ, it¡¯s been a long time since a man looked at me like that-like I¡¯m all he wants.


    I slide a hand up his strong arm. ¡°I like it best when we both win.¡±


    A sh of wickedness in Liam¡¯s eyes. ¡°At the same time, preferably.¡±


    The blush on my cheeks isn¡¯t faked. Neither of us spares Jason another look as we head to the dartboard, but I can feel his stare along the back of my neck.


    Liam chuckles as he hands me the darts. ¡°That,¡± he says, ¡°was incredibly fun.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 18

    I smile, biting my lip. ¡°It was, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°All we need now is the final nail in the coffin.¡±


    I throw my darts in rapid session, none of them going where I want them to. ¡°The final nail in the coffin?¡±


    He tosses his suit jacket over his shoulder, the sleeves pushed up to reveal muscled forearms. ¡°He¡¯s watching us right now.¡±


    I don¡¯t turn around. ¡°Oh?¡±


    His lips curve into a smile as he raises his hand, running soft fingers down my cheek. ¡°I intend on giving him a show.¡±


    My heart is beating at double speed, trying to knock through my chest. ¡°Okay,¡± I whisper.


    Liam raises an eyebrow, lowering his head. ¡°I trust you¡¯re not nning on pushing me away?¡±


    ¡°Make it good, and I won¡¯t.¡±


    I catch a glimpse of his smile and then my eyes flutter closed of their own ord, anticipation humming through my body.


    Liam kisses me like we¡¯ve done it a million times before, his lips moving like they know mine intimately.


    Except they don¡¯t, and the rush of heat sweeping through me is tinted with nervous excitement. He tastes like whiskey and something else, something spicy and unfamiliar.


    His fingers dig into my hips and when his tongue slips into my mouth, I actually moan, a sound somewhere between a whine and an exhale.


    I don¡¯t want him to stop.


    My hands slide up his chest, hard beneath my touch. I can feel the strong, fast beat of his heart under my palms.


    Liam pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. I don¡¯t open my eyes, trying to hold on to the magic.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t push me away,¡± he murmurs.


    Words are beyond me. I make a small sound instead, halfway between a hmmph and a yes.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wear it like a badge of honor.¡± He grips my hand with his, strong fingers around mine. ¡°Ready to leave?¡±


    Nodding, I turn and wave to the others with my free hand. Thest thing I see before we emerge into the Seattle night is the stunned faces of my co-workers and the surprised fury on Jason¡¯s.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I breathe.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Wow?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Holy shit, that felt good!¡±


    Liam¡¯sughter is low. ¡°That is an even better badge of honor. Don¡¯t stop, Maddie. Lay it on me.¡±


    ¡°You did so well.¡± I tug on his hand and we turn down toward the glittering boardwalks along Elliot Bay. The cool air feels like a balm as it hits my heated skin. ¡°I should have enlisted a fake boyfriend ages ago!¡±


    ¡°d we¡¯ve bothe to the same realization,¡± Liam remarks, bumping my shoulder with his. ¡°Do you know what else I¡¯ve realized?¡±


    ¡°Tell me.¡± His hand around mine is warm and strong, the contact sending heat up my arm.


    ¡°Your tolerance for alcohol is shit.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Liamughs, and I¡¯m distracted by the deep, genuine sound. ¡°You have no tolerance at all. You had one ss of wine and two shots.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and I¡¯m perfectly fine.¡±


    A streetlight appears out of nowhere and Liam tugs me out of the way, avoiding a narrow collision. ¡°Yes,¡± he says, ¡°you¡¯re perfectly fine.¡±


    ¡°I am. If you were to tell me to walk on a straight line and touch my nose at the same time, I¡¯d get an A+.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think those tests are graded on a curve.¡±


    ¡°They should be.¡± I look over at him. ¡°Do you always wear suits?¡±


    I can¡¯t see clearly in the dark, but I think a smile is tugging at his lips. ¡°Most days, yes.¡±


    ¡°Did you reallye from work before you joined us here?¡±


    But it¡¯s a weekend, not to mentionte in the evening. ¡°Okay,¡± I say. ¡°Be honest. How much do you work?¡±


    Liam snorts. ¡°Good thing you asked me to be honest. That¡¯s something I usually lie about.¡±


    I roll my eyes, trying to match his long strides along the promenade. ¡°So twenty-four-seven, then?¡±


    ¡°I do sleep,¡± he says. ¡°I work out.¡±


    ¡°But when you¡¯re not doing that¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m working, yes.¡±


    I frown, my thoughts running back to the boy I¡¯d known and how little I see him reflected in the man beside me. Working so hard just to make money. ¡°I don¡¯t see the point,¡± I admit.


    His voice grows a tad harder. ¡°That¡¯s okay.¡±


    A burst of wind sweeps across the bay and I tug my jacket tighter around myself. ¡°A lot of people don¡¯t understand why I spend so much time cooking,¡± I say, ¡°so I suppose I can¡¯t judge.¡±


    ¡°About that¡­¡± Liam¡¯s voice deepens. ¡°What is it between you and your ex?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean,¡± he says. ¡°Why did you break up?¡±


    My skin feels mmy underneath my clothes. ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 19

    ¡°I¡¯ve got time.¡±


    I pull away toward the waterfront, leaning against the railing. His hand slips out of mine.


    It¡¯s a long moment before either of us speaks. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me,¡± Liam says finally. ¡°It would inform my performance, though. Are we rubbing his nose in it? Or trying to make him jealous so you can get him back?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want him back.¡±


    Liam¡¯s snort is soft. ¡°All right. Granted, I don¡¯t have a stake in this game, but I¡¯m d. He seems¡­ unsavory.¡±


    The term makes me smile down at thepping waves below. ¡°It took me two years to figure that out.¡±


    ¡°You were a part of his fan club back there?¡±


    The question makes meugh. ¡°Oh, yes. He¡¯s a brilliant cook, you see. And he¡¯s so damn arrogant that it masked his other ws.¡±


    Liam makes a small sound, encouraging and disparaging rolled into one.


    ¡°After a bit of soul-searching, I¡¯ve realized he probably wasn¡¯t all that good to begin with.¡± I toe a pebble over the edge of the boardwalk, hearing the soft ssh as it falls to a watery grave below.


    ¡°I¡¯m impressed you didn¡¯t quit.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I couldn¡¯t! Marco¡¯s is one of the best restaurants in the city. Do you know how many applications he gets a month for line cooks?¡±


    Liam¡¯s lips tug. ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s many. And I¡¯ll be damned if I leave just because of Jason.¡±


    He exhales. ¡°You haven¡¯t changed one bit.¡±


    Before I can figure out what to make of that, he turns, crossing his arms over his chest. ¡°What was all the talk about a culinary fellowship? He didn¡¯t seem capable of shutting up about it.¡±


    I heave a big sigh. ¡°It¡¯s a pretty big deal. We both applied, actually.¡±


    ¡°And he got short-listed.¡±


    ¡°And you¡­?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t get an email today,¡± I say. ¡°I checked.¡±


    Liam raises an eyebrow. ¡°When was thest time you checked?¡±


    ¡°A few hours ago, I think.¡±


    ¡°Check again,¡± he tells me. ¡°ces like that will sometimes send their eptance or rejection emails in batches to avoid overloading their system. And did you look in your spam folder?¡±


    ¡°No, no, I haven¡¯t.¡± I fumble in my pocket for my phone. ¡°You think it might have ended up there?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s worth a try.¡±


    I refresh my email app with trembling fingers, Liam¡¯s warm presence at my shoulder. Like magic, an email appears at the top, sent just two hours ago.


    Washington Institute of Culinary Arts.


    I close my eyes and hold the phone out to him. ¡°I can¡¯t read it. You do it.¡±


    He epts my phone. A faint pause, and then there¡¯s a smile in his voice. ¡°All right. Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°Liam!¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Dear Miss Webb. I¡¯m writing to inform you that you have been shortlisted as one of the candidates for this year¡¯s culinary fellowship. This means you will bepeting-¡±


    He breaks off with a huff as my armse around him. It takes only a moment for his hands to rest on my back, palms t, pulling me tight against his warmth.


    ¡°You know what this means,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to be using your kitchen morning, lunch and dinner!¡±


    Liam opens the door to his Seattle apartment two dayster, one hand on the doorframe and the other in the pocket of his suit.


    He looks down at my grocery bags. ¡°nning on feeding an army?¡±


    I hand him two bags, bending to pick up two more. ¡°I¡¯m still in the testing phase.¡±


    ¡°Which means what? That you¡¯re making a ton of dishes?¡±


    ¡°Tons and tons.¡± I follow him through an apartment devoid of personality, an expensive rental condo in various shades of beige.


    ¡°Here it is,¡± Liam announces, turning the corner to the open-n kitchen.


    Granite countertops.


    A six-ted stove.


    An induction oven.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I murmur, putting my grocery bags on therge kitchen ind. ¡°It¡¯s perfect.¡±


    ¡°Bigger than you have at home?¡±


    ¡°Just a tad,¡± I say, walking around to open cab doors. ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t mind me here?¡±


    ¡°No. I haven¡¯t used this kitchen once since I moved in.¡±


    I pause, my hand hovering over a shiny appliance I can¡¯t wait to try. ¡°You haven¡¯t done what?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°I order in most days.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s sacrilege with a ce like this,¡± I say, excitement thrumming through my veins. There are so many dishes I¡¯ve been perfecting over the years, and now to put them all together, a menu to wow the selectionmittee.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be in my home office if you need anything.¡± Liam is looking down at his phone, fingers already flying as he replies to an email.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 20

    ¡°You¡¯re working from home?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I figured that was for the best. Can¡¯t have you start another fire on me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll never let me live down those cinnamon rolls, will you?¡±


    ¡°Never.¡± He gives me a crooked smile. ¡°You¡¯ll let me taste the food when you¡¯re done, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, if you promise to give me honest feedback.¡±


    ¡°I never give anything but,¡± he replies, already heading across the living room. I shake my head at the preposterous idea of wearing a suit to work from home and turn to unpacking my grocery bags.


    It¡¯s two hourster when I sink down onto a chair and survey my work. Pots and pans of every size litter the working space. I¡¯ll only have two hours to cook the five dishes on the day of the selection, which means time is up, but I¡¯m nowhere near done.


    I shake my head at my own thinking. I need to finish the dishes first before I¡¯ll decide.


    My hands are up to my elbows in pasta dough when Liam¡¯s voice speaks at my side. ¡°Making bread?¡±


    I nearly jump out of my skin. ¡°What?¡±


    He leans against the now-packed counter, a cup of coffee in his hand. He raises an eyebrow. ¡°Are you making bread?¡±


    ¡°Pasta,¡± I say. ¡°One dish will have fettucine.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he murmurs, eyes looking over my dishes. He runs a hand over his jaw, right along the five-o¡¯clock shadow. His eyesnd on the KitchenAid. ¡°That¡¯s my machine?¡±Copyright N?v/el/Dra/ma.Org.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Top shelf.¡±


    He frowns. ¡°How did you get it down?¡±


    ¡°I might have done a bit of climbing on your cabs.¡±


    ¡°You should have asked me,¡± he says.


    ¡°And interrupted your work? No.¡± I grin at myself, looking down at the dough. ¡°The stock market waits for no one.¡±


    Liam snorts, but it¡¯s good-natured. ¡°You¡¯re cute.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re distracting me.¡±


    His smile widens, and this time it¡¯s achingly familiar. ¡°Cracking the whip, Maddie? I approve.¡±


    ¡°I have to learn, for when I have my own restaurant.¡±


    ¡°And everyone will call you Chef?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes. That¡¯s the part I can¡¯t wait for.¡±


    He raps his knuckles against the ind. ¡°All right. Call me when it¡¯s time toe eat.¡±


    ¡°The one thing you know how to do in a kitchen,¡± I tease.


    He shakes his head at me, but he¡¯s smiling. I watch his back as he retreats to his office. It¡¯s been a long time since I cooked for a man, even if it¡¯s someone I¡¯m only tonically engaged to.


    When I finally raise my voice, my back is aching. ¡°Liam!¡±


    ¡°Coming!¡± He emerges a few minutester, hands undoing the top button of his shirt. The jacket is discarded, and the sleeves rolled up over his forearms.


    He runs a hand through his hair, surveying the dishes arranged on the kitchen ind. ¡°You made all of this? Today?¡±


    I nod. ¡°It¡¯s meant to be a representative sample of your menu, your repertoire.¡± I push a te over to his side of the ind. ¡°This is the pasta.¡±


    He sinks down onto a chair and I busy myself with lighting two candles, arranging my own te. Nerves make my heart beat fast.


    ¡°You really made homemade pasta?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Liam smiles as he spears fettine infused with pumpkin and sage sauce.


    ¡°Maddie¡­¡± he says after swallowing, putting down his fork. ¡°This is excellent.¡±


    ¡°It is, isn¡¯t it? What else?¡±


    He takes another bite, thinking. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ hearty? I¡¯m not a food expert, or a food critic. All I know is I like it.¡±


    I grin, reaching over with my own fork to taste. It¡¯s the pasta dish I¡¯ve made for friends and family for years, one I know and love. Perhaps it¡¯s not innovative-but that¡¯s just it. I want to use fresh, local ingredients in rustic meals. Food for the soul and innovation within bounds.


    Jason had oncemented that my kind of thinking made for excellent cooks, not chefs.


    Liam lifts his fork. The te is already half-empty. ¡°I should have someone cooking for me more often.¡±


    I snort, finishing the ting of the next dish. Braisedmb on top of a vinaigrette sd.


    Liam gives the te a full 360 spin. ¡°This looks artistic.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit more experimental,¡± I admit.


    He closes his eyes as he chews. ¡°This,¡± he says, ¡°is fucking amazing.¡±


    My smile widens as I watch him enjoy my food.


    He has one hand on his knee, legs wide, his frame tall and secure. And I vow to stop thinking of all the can¡¯ts and shouldn¡¯ts Jason was so good at putting into my mind.


    Perhaps I¡¯ll use both tarragon and sage in a sauce, like my own private fuck-you to one of his iron rules.


    ¡°I never knewmb could taste this good,¡± Liam says.


    I cock my head, looking over at him. ¡°Why did youe back to Seattle?¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 21

    He puts down his fork, the dark green of his eyes imprable. ¡°Ethan offered me a job as principal investor and overseer of an investmentpany he was setting up with two friends.¡±


    ¡°Cole Porter?¡±


    ¡°And Nichs Park,¡± Liam says. ¡°So that¡¯s what I am now, head of a fledging investmentpany called Porter, Park and Carter.¡±


    I frown at his tone. ¡°And you aren¡¯t enjoying it?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± he says, taking another bite of the food.


    ¡°You don¡¯t sound overjoyed.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°They¡¯re putting a lot of funds behind these investments, and they all have a wish list the size of Mount Rainier.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re Santa?¡±


    Almost despite himself, Liam smiles. ¡°And I¡¯m Santa,¡± he confirms.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Walker is one of these investments?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s never taken in outside investors. If I get this¡­¡± His lips quirk up. ¡°Well.¡±


    I can hear what he¡¯s not saying, cutting through themb. Ambition had always vored the air around him, even when we were thirteen and working on our science projects in school.


    He wants to be the one to crack Walker Steel.


    ¡°How¡¯s Ethan doing?¡± I ask.


    ¡°He¡¯s good.¡± Liam gets up and heads to one of the cabs. He pulls out a bottle of red wine. ¡°He has three kids now.¡±


    ¡°Three?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Are you surprised?¡±


    I think of Ethan¡¯s steadiness, his calm, even as a kid. He¡¯s a few years older than Liam and me, and had never been keen to join our antics. ¡°No, not at all.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Liam confirms, filling two winesses. ¡°He has a house in Greenwood Hills and will soon get married for a second time.¡±


    I push our tes away, getting up to finalize the third dish, duck and polenta. ¡°I wonder what he would think of our little charade.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Liam holds out a ss for me, our fingers brushing against each other. ¡°He would scold me like I was ten.¡±


    I smile at the consternation in Liam¡¯s voice, wiping off the sides of the te. The duck looks just right-pink on the inside and crisp on the outside. Three slices rest on a bed of polenta.


    ¡°I read an article about him in the newspaper pretty recently,¡± I say. ¡°What does Patricia think about it all?¡±


    Their mom had always been the entric sort, strict in some ways and ridiculously easygoing in others. Liam¡¯s jaw tenses. ¡°She¡¯s very proud,¡± he says. ¡°As are we all.¡±


    There¡¯s something rehearsed about the words, so I don¡¯t push. I hand him the te instead.


    ¡°You know,¡± he says, looking down at the food, ¡°I can¡¯t imagine how you won¡¯t get the culinary fellowship.¡±


    I burst outughing, thinking of the dishes Marco conjures up on the daily, of the snobby food critics that make up the gatekeepers of my world.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, resting my hands on the kitchen ind. ¡°You¡¯re very sweet.¡±


    A raised eyebrow. ¡°Sweet? I haven¡¯t been called that in over two decades, if ever.¡±


    ¡°You were sweet as a boy,¡± I say. ¡°Sometimes.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Good thing you added a qualifier there.¡±


    ¡°I remember when you helped my parents and me take care of all those puppies.¡±


    ¡°I was eight,¡± he says, ¡°and they were puppies. I wasn¡¯t being altruistic.¡±


    I lean forward, sping my hands together on the ind. Liam¡¯s gaze tracks the gesture. ¡°You were sweet in other ways.¡±


    He takes a sip of his wine, gaze on mine. Somewhere in my head warning bells go off, but I silence them, like I do so often with my rm in the morning. ¡°How so?¡±


    I swallow. ¡°Remember when I-¡±


    The sharp sound of a doorbell ringing cuts through my reply. Liam runs a hand through his hair. ¡°Sorry,¡± he says, heading to the front door.


    I busy my hands with the kitchen, putting away pots and clearing the ind,


    ¡°Hey,¡± I hear Liam¡¯s low voice. Like so many of these open-nned spaces, there isn¡¯t a lot of privacy.


    ¡°Hi, Liam. It¡¯s been a while.¡± A woman¡¯s voice, unmistakable in its pitch that indicates intimacy. My hand tightens around the bag of flour I¡¯m folding shut. ¡°I just wanted to see if you were home and interested in sharing a sster tonight.¡±


    Liam¡¯s voice is so smooth it could cut through butter. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± he says. ¡°Sorry to disappoint.¡±


    A lowugh. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll survive. See you around?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know if I find the time,¡± he replies. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t hold my breath.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll just have to find someone else to entertain myself with.¡±


    By the time the door closes and Liam makes his way back to the kitchen, my hands are near trembling on the pan I¡¯m trying to scrub.


    He stops beside me, solid, real, and I breathe in the faint scent of sandalwood and red wine. His hands close over mine in the sink. ¡°I have a cleaning service,¡± he says quietly. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do the dishes.¡±


    The soapy pan slides out of my fingers and hits the sink with a dull thud. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you heard all that?¡± he asks.


    ¡°I did.¡± I reach for the tea towel. ¡°Someone in the building?¡±


    ¡°She lives a few floors down,¡± Liam says, leaning back against the kitchen ind. His eyes are inscrutable again, twin pools of caution.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 22

    ¡°What a convenient arrangement,¡± Iment. Mentally, I pat myself on the shoulder. No iciness in my voice, nothing at all to hint at the unwee roil of emotion in my stomach. Emotions I had no business feeling in the first ce. ¡°I suppose you don¡¯t really work twenty-four-seven.¡±


    Liam¡¯s lips quirk, and I hate that he¡¯s amused at this, that he can read my emotions. So I turn around, reaching for another pot to scrub, cleaning service be damned.


    ¡°I know we agreed we wouldn¡¯t see other people while we do this,¡± I say, ¡°but I guess I understand it if it¡¯s in your own building. Perhaps it¡¯s a lot to ask, that¡­ a man like you be celibate for a few weeks.¡±


    Liam¡¯s snort is soft, and then his hands appear again, taking away the pot I¡¯m scrubbing. ¡°I have cleaners,¡± he repeats. ¡°And what exactly does ¡®a man like me¡¯ mean?¡±


    I wave my hand at him, and suds fly from my fingers. He doesn¡¯t seem to notice. He probably has a dry-cleaning service too. The difference between our stations in life seems so clear to me, then. Gone are the days when we sat together, heads bent over our homework.


    ¡°A-woman-in-every-port-kind-of-guy,¡± I say. ¡°A man with the kind of reputation that he has to make up a fake fianc¨¦e for a business associate to believe he¡¯s not a yboy.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes darken, but his face remains calm. ¡°I won¡¯t be with anyone while we¡¯re fake engaged,¡± he says. ¡°Regardless of the location. Same as you, Maddie.¡±


    I give a little snort, but the sound is half-crazed. ¡°No risk,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for romance.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes make it clear that he wants to say me neither, but evidence of the contrary had juste knocking on his apartment door. The casualness of it makes me shiver.


    ¡°When did you get good at girls, anyway? You always had your head in a fantasy book or your hands on a calctor.¡±


    ¡°We all grow up,¡± Liam says. ¡°After all, the Maddie I remember wouldn¡¯t kiss a man the way you did the other night.¡±


    The air feels thin, like I¡¯ve climbed to the top of a too-high mountain.


    I¡¯m afraid to see the view.


    So I clear my throat, nodding to the te on the kitchen ind. ¡°I still need your opinions on the duck.¡±


    Liam retreats, sinking down on the stool with quirked lips. He takes a bite of the duck as I watch.


    Then he raises his ss of wine in a toast, and I follow suit. ¡°Delicious,¡± he says. ¡°To culinary fellowships and fruitful partnerships.¡±


    ¡°To weekends away,¡± I say, ¡°and to prestigious investment opportunities.¡±


    His eyes stay on mine as we drink our wine, and something moves in the pit of my stomach, lurches and flips over. We¡¯re about to embark on another adventure together, but I know, instinctively and deliciously, that it won¡¯t be anything like the ones we undertook as children.


    Maddie is quiet in the passenger seat. I nce over to see her hands sped tight in herp. My hand twitches with the odd impulse to reach out and take hers.


    But it¡¯s not something she¡¯d wee.


    The words from the other night echo in my head, the recrimination of my actions and my so-called yboy status. The worst part is that she¡¯s not wrong, either.


    I do know how to talk to girls now, as she so quaintly put it. Women like me, I like them. The implications have never bothered me before.


    Buting out of Maddie¡¯s mouth, the word yboy sounded twisted, ufortable. Like hearing a song backwards.


    ¡°You all right?¡± I ask.


    She stretches her legs out in front of her, the shes of green outside the car windows whirling past. ¡°I¡¯m excited.¡±


    ¡°Excited?¡± There¡¯s no hiding the incredulity in my voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to spend the weekend at a giant hunting cabin in the woods withplete strangers and a fake fianc¨¦. What¡¯s not to love? It sounds like the premise of a horror movie.¡±


    I can¡¯t help butugh at that. Maddie¡¯s always had a way of cutting right through the bullshit.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to not leave you alone,¡± I say. ¡°And let¡¯s just promise here and now that neither of us will go into any basements or attics.¡±


    ¡°I agree. And it doesn¡¯t matter if we hear any loud sounds at night-no investigating.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t even dream of it,¡± I promise.


    She shifts her seat further back, as if her short legs need the space. ¡°What did your bosses say about this weekend? Did you tell them you were going to tter Albert Walker?¡±


    My grin is crooked. ¡°I didn¡¯t give them all the gory details. I just told them I would get them Walker Steel if it¡¯s thest thing I do.¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t like to lose, do you?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± I say. ¡°I never have.¡±


    Maddie¡¯s delightedugh fills the car. My foot presses down on the gas in response until it feels like we¡¯re flying down the road.


    ¡°Modest as always,¡± she says.


    We arrive at the cabin by noon, pulling onto the gravel road indicated by my GPS.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Maddie says, looking out at the green thickets surrounding us. ¡°I¡¯m definitely feeling serial killer vibes.¡±


    ¡°I have to go out in the woods with him,¡± I say.


    ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯ll have a rifle.¡±


    I pull to a stop outside the giant timber house, too big to bear the diminutive term of a cabin. ¡°So will he,¡± I say.


    Maddie reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder, her fingers squeezing. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll write a lovely obituary,¡± she tells me.


    I meet her eyes, nearly gray in the dappled sunlight. No one has eyes like hers. ¡°Just make sure it¡¯s ttering.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll exaggerate, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    As we smile at each other, I¡¯m about to tell her that my aplishments don¡¯t need embellishing when the front door opens. Rita Walker emerges, dressed head to toe in khaki, her hair tied back with a headband.


    ¡°Showtime,¡± Maddie murmurs, sliding her hand off my shoulder.


    The cabin is as much timber on the inside as it is on the outside. Trophies hang on the wall in the giant sitting room, twelve-point antlers. Seeing them makes me grin. Funny, how fat cats always have certain things inmon.


    In New York, they¡¯d invite you to upscale restaurants or strip clubs. The Hamptons, perhaps, if they were older and farther up thedder. In London it was men¡¯s lounges, Chesterfield sofas and cigars.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    The ones I¡¯d met in Tokyo had preferred schmoozing over copious amounts of sake in a restaurant, everyone still in their suits.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 23

    I guess this is the Washington way-cabins, forest, and hunting.


    I can handle that.


    ¡°This is the guest suite,¡± Rita says, pushing open the door to a bedroom. Windows open up to the woods beyond, arge poster bed in the center. ¡°Make yourself at home and take some time to get settled. Albert will head out to shoot in about an hour.¡±


    She closes the door behind us and then it¡¯s just us, Maddie and me, in this giant room.


    She runs a hand over an oak dresser. ¡°It¡¯s like a shrine to outdoorsiness,¡± she says, stopping by a taxidermied pheasant. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll be able to sleep with this guy watching us.¡±


    I sit down on the bed, hands braced behind me. ¡°We can banish him to the bathroom.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯ll be able to use the bathroom with him watching me?¡± Opening a drawer, she finds a package of tissues. Turning the pheasant around, she drapes a paper tissue over its head. ¡°There!¡±


    ¡°You have impable problem-solving skills.¡±


    ¡°I try.¡± She rocks back on her heels. ¡°You know, you look good when you¡¯re not wearing a suit.¡±


    I grin. ¡°But only when I¡¯m not?¡±


    Maddie bites her lip. ¡°Not what I meant, but hey, if you heard it that way¡­¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°You¡¯re terrible.¡± I stretch back on the bed, looking at the vaulted wooden ceiling above. My phone stirs in my pocket, but I ignore it. ¡°There¡¯s only one bed in this room.¡±


    ¡°Considering we¡¯re supposed to be engaged, I think that¡¯s to be expected.¡± She pauses by the nightstand, picking up a book from a neat stack.


    I raise my eyebrow at her. ¡°And you¡¯re okay with that?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve slept in tents together,¡± she says. ¡°Probably much closer than we will in this giant contraption of a bed.¡±


    Yes, I think. When we were ten. And all it takes is one nce at Maddie, at the dark hair that shines like silk and the curves of her petite form, to see that she¡¯s not ten anymore. But her tone makes it clear that I¡¯m the only one having those thoughts.


    I close my eyes at the memory of the kiss, just a few days ago, when it felt like her body was opening to me.


    ¡°Look at it this way,¡± she says. ¡°This will give you some training for sleeping with a woman tonically.¡±


    ¡°Yippie,¡± I mutter.


    Herughter fills the room, just like it did in the car, and it warms every surface it touches.


    Albert gives me one of those bushy-eyebrowed looks as we walk back toward the cabin, his Jeep parked behind us. ¡°Not bad,¡± hements. ¡°Not bad at all for a banker.¡±


    I shrug. ¡°I was raised in a town that had one foot in the forest, the other in the ocean.¡±


    ¡°It shows.¡±


    Dennis frowns at me. I give him a nd look. He must have hoped I¡¯d flounder out in the woods. Albert sees it too, for he nods toward the shed in the back. ¡°Will you give the birds to Robert for dressing?¡±


    A final nce toward me, and Dennis retreats down to the shack.


    My next sentence is calcted. Risky, but calcted.


    ¡°Your son doesn¡¯t care much for the idea of me, does he?¡±


    Albert kicks off the mud from his boots. ¡°No, I can¡¯t say that he does.¡±


    ¡°Oh well.¡± I lean back, tugging at my jacket. ¡°And here I thought I might be inching you closer toward our deal.¡±


    Albert grins. ¡°All we¡¯ve done so far is shooting.¡± The look in his eyes tells me he¡¯s well aware of my frustrations-he know he¡¯s drawing this whole thing out.


    He¡¯s also enjoying it.


    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s all we ever do, I¡¯ll be happy I got the chance.¡±


    Albert shakes his head, but there¡¯s amusement there. ¡°I¡¯m starting to see how you got someone as nice as Madison to say yes to you.¡±


    ¡°Words are sweet,¡± I respond, heading to the front porch. He follows, and we both stop at the domestic image revealed.


    Maddie and Rita are in the kitchen, elbow deep in cooking. Maddie¡¯s hair is tied back and her cheeks flushed, from the heat of the stove or excitement, I don¡¯t know.


    ¡°Just in time!¡± Rita says. ¡°Dinner is in half-an-hour.¡±


    I walk around the kitchen counter and pull Maddie against me, kissing her silken hair.


    She pushes me away with augh. ¡°You¡¯re muddy.¡±


    ¡°I thought your love was unconditional.¡± Her cheeks me further. Beside her, Rita chuckles.


    ¡°Men,¡± she says. ¡°Off to the showers with you, and don¡¯te back until you stop getting dirt all over my floors.¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± Albert says, heading off in one direction.


    Maddie¡¯s eyes track me as I leave toward our room. And God help me, but I wink.


    She looks back down at her chopping board immediately and I¡¯m forced to stifle the mad urge tough. Being fake engaged just might be the most fun I¡¯ve had in years.


    Dinner is a quiet affair, marked by considerable praise for Maddie-all of it well-deserved.


    ¡°Will you please write down the recipe?¡± Rita asks. ¡°Whatever you did to this meat is¡­ well. In my twenty years of trying to cook venison, I¡¯ve never gotten it this tender.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll write it down before we go tomorrow,¡± Maddie assures her.


    ¡°How much would you cost to hire as a private chef?¡± Albert asks. Rita gives him a light shove in reproach, but they¡¯re both smiling.


    ¡°The key,¡± I say, draping my arm around the back of Maddie¡¯s chair, ¡°is to marry her. That¡¯s my strategy and it¡¯s working beautifully so far.¡±


    ¡°A shame you can only have one wife,¡± Rita quips to her husband.


    By the third helping of red wine, Maddie switches our sses when our hosts have their backs turned. My half-empty for her full.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 24

    I raise an eyebrow at her, but she just gives me a look. ¡°You told me I was a lightweight,¡± she whispers.


    My hand slips down to her shoulder, and she¡¯s warm and real by my side. ¡°I¡¯ll take one for the team, but you owe me one.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who owes me,¡± she murmurs back, straightening as our hosts return.


    When we finally retire for the evening, my head feels like it¡¯s grown two sizes. Albert had insisted on whiskey too, and there had been no way to decline. The second the door closes behind us, Maddie lets out a helpless little giggle.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask her, tugging at the buttons of my shirt. I sink down onto the edge of the bed and it feels like cotton candy beneath me, sinking and swaying.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you drunk since¡­ well, since Jeremiah Mobie¡¯s party.¡±


    It¡¯s a tough thing, sorting through thirty-one years¡¯ worth of memories and names.


    ¡°Oh. That party.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She tugs off her shoes, still chuckling as she heads into the adjoining bathroom. I listen to her as she cleans off the few traces of makeup. ¡°You threw up in my mother¡¯s rosebushes.¡±


    ¡°I did no such thing,¡± I say, dignified.


    ¡°Oh, you did. She noticed.¡±


    I lie back on the bed. ¡°I can¡¯t think she minded,¡± I say. ¡°Your mother loved me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you were like the son she never had.¡±


    Images dance behind my closed eyelids, of summer days in Fairfield with a throng of friends from childhood, none of whom I¡¯m still in contact with. Everything had changed when we¡¯d moved away, my mother wanting to be closer to Ethan¡¯s college.


    Something of the gravest importance strikes me. ¡°Who¡¯d you go to prom with?¡±


    There¡¯s a beat of silence. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Who did you go to prom with?¡± I¡¯d left midway through high school.


    Maddie¡¯s voice is closer, and when I open my eyes again, she¡¯s crouching by her weekend bag. ¡°I went to prom alone.¡±


    ¡°Alone?¡±


    Her voice makes it clear I¡¯ve raised her hackles. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with that. I had a great time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. It was more¡­ alone? Wow, we sure went to school with a bunch of idiot guys.¡±


    Maddie¡¯sughter is soft, washing over me like a wave. Fuck, but I really am drunk.


    ¡°Of course I forgot something. Why is packing always so difficult? I forget something every time.¡±


    ¡°What did you forget this time?¡±


    Her voice is muffled by the sound of rifling through stuff. ¡°Something to sleep in. Do you have a T-shirt I can borrow or something?¡±


    The instant response is no.


    Not because I don¡¯t have something, but because the mental image of Maddie naked sweeps over me. Of sleeping in a bed with her when there¡¯s nothing between us, including clothes, secrets or a bargain.


    I¡¯ve never seen her naked.


    And I¡¯ve never wanted anything more.


    ¡°Liam?¡± The bed dips as she sits down beside me. ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    I open one eye to see her peering down at me. ¡°I¡¯m debating whether or not to lend you a shirt.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she says. ¡°Is it that difficult a decision?¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe,¡± I mutter. Maddieughs, but it¡¯s tinged with something I can¡¯t ce. Nerves? ¡°I¡¯ve decided,¡± I announce. ¡°There should be a gray T-shirt in my bag.¡±


    She bounces up from the bed. ¡°Thank you. Now, are you going to sleep with your shoes on?¡±


    Sighing the sigh of men who can¡¯t rest in peace, I kick off my shoes. My head is only moderately spinning now.


    But my efforts are derailed, like a train switching tracks, by Maddie. She emerges out of the bathroom in nothing but my T-shirt and a hairbrush in hand.


    It skims the tops of her thighs, leaving the curving shape of her legs on full disy. Long calves and soft thighs. And when she reaches up to brush her hair, the fabric rises an inch, revealing just a hint of ass cheek.


    Fucking hell.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    I lean back on the bed and abandon project take-off-clothes, focusing instead on project don¡¯t-get-aroused. I¡¯m halfway ready to deem it a lost cause when Maddie¡¯s voice reaches me.


    ¡°Liam?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± Is it obvious in my half-strangled voice what I¡¯m thinking?


    But then she says nothing else. Curiosity kills this cat, because I rise up on an elbow to see her sitting cross-legged on the bed beside me. The angle gives me a tantalizing glimpse of ck,cy panties.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    Please tell me you¡¯re overwrought with desire.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ why aren¡¯t you yourself? Around these people, I mean? It¡¯s like you flip a switch when we¡¯re around otherspared to when we¡¯re alone. Most of the time, at least.¡±


    I put an arm over my face. Of course she couldn¡¯t just be ovee with desire. I¡¯d let my dreams bleed into reality again.


    ¡°I am myself.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she murmurs. ¡°You¡¯re saying all kinds of things that I¡¯m not sure you really mean.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had too much whiskey for this conversation.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ve had the right amount.¡± Cool fingers close around my wrist. ¡°Liam,e on.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 25

    I let her tug my arm away and turn my head. With her hair loose, in my giant T-shirt and not a stitch of makeup on her fair skin, she¡¯s glowing.


    ¡°Definitely too much whiskey,¡± I confirm.


    Maddie stretches out beside me. ¡°You weren¡¯t always like this,¡± she says, with an insistence that reminds me she hasn¡¯t had no wine tonight, either, even if she skipped the whiskey.


    ¡°I worked hard to be who I am,¡± I protest. The vaulted ceiling above seems to beckon, as if I could touch it if I only stretched out my arm high enough. ¡°I was one of the youngest traders on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. I worked for two separate hedge funds at the same time, both of them waiving the nonpete uses because they wanted me.¡± My smile feels hazy. ¡°I¡¯ve beat the market index every year of my career. And yet I¡¯m working for my big brother.¡±


    Maddie¡¯s voice is soft. ¡°Is it about Ethan, then?¡±


    The words slip out of their own ord. ¡°Even you preferred him, once.¡±


    A beat of surprised silence. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Fuck.¡± I run a hand over my face. ¡°Now this is a conversation I¡¯ve not had enough whiskey for.¡±


    ¡°Liam¡­¡±


    I reach for the buttons on my shirt, undoing them one at a time until it hangs off me. ¡°It was ages ago.¡±


    It feels like a century has passed, and yet it¡¯s hovering close, gone but still visible. Being close to Maddie is bringing up memories I haven¡¯t revisited in years.


    But they¡¯re there, like they¡¯ve been waiting for me all along.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asks. ¡°Ethan barely spent time with us.¡±


    I push the shirt off, balling it up and tossing it in the general direction of my bag. ¡°I know you two kissed, once.¡±


    ¡°He told you?!¡±


    ¡°He did,¡± I say. And he didn¡¯t have a thought in the world that I might not be thrilled by the revtion,ing home to let me know that he¡¯d just gone for it behind the hedges, but that kissing was pretty wet and not something he¡¯d rmend.


    We¡¯d rough-housed a lot, Ethan and I, but nothing like we did that afternoon, with me intent onmitting fratricide.


    I don¡¯t look at Maddie, but the silence beside me is flustered. ¡°It was a long time ago,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°Yes, it sure was.¡± I undo the zipper of my pants and push them down, not caring that she¡¯s watching. The alcohol runs like fire through my veins. ¡°Still, he was your first kiss.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you knew about that,¡± she murmurs, like this has changed something. A paradigm shift in her thinking.


    I can¡¯t for the life of me think why it would matter. Maddie had treated me no differently before than she had after, like she saw me as a brother.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have mattered,¡± I say, pulling back the covers. Her eyes drift across my bare chest, my arms, and damn it if I don¡¯t feel a swelling of pride that¡¯s bone-deep and primitive. ¡°I don¡¯t have a T-shirt,¡± I murmur, inclining my head toward her. ¡°It¡¯s currently in use.¡±


    Her hand fists in the fabric. The action pulls the hem up higher and¡­ wow. ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not, as long as you¡¯re okay with me sleeping in my boxers.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay with it,¡± Maddie says, nodding. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m okay.¡±


    Smiling, I climb under the covers. A flick of my finger turns the lights off, hiding the giant ode to timber from view. The nket of intimacy grows heavier, not lighter, under the weight of darkness.


    A question rises to the surface of my mind. It¡¯s one I shouldn¡¯t ask, but my inhibitions seem lowered, the gates blown wide open.


    ¡°When you told the Walkers how we met, you said you had a crush on me when we were kids, but that I never noticed.¡±


    A faint humes from Maddie¡¯s direction, and the soft sound races through my system. She¡¯s so close I can reach her-touch her under the covers.


    ¡°Is there a question in there somewhere?¡±


    ¡°It was an excellent piece of adlibbing. Unless¡­¡±


    The sound of sheets ruffling, of someone turning onto her side. Her voice is closer when she speaks. ¡°Didn¡¯t your mother teach you it¡¯s rude to demand answers to questions you already know the answer to?¡±


    Whatever sweeps through me then, I don¡¯t have the words for. Triumph, warmth, fear.


    I hadn¡¯t known.


    Hadn¡¯t even suspected.


    To think that all those years, when my eyes would track her movements in the school cafeteria like a hawk, when herpany turned from friendly to something that made my heart pound, she¡¯d felt the same way.


    ¡°I can hear your gloating, Liam,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s loud.¡±


    God help me, but Iugh. ¡°You¡¯ve always been able to read my mind.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m d to see it¡¯s mostly intact,¡± she says, ¡°after all your boozing and schmoozing.¡±


    But her tone isn¡¯t one of reproach, and the warmth in my body rises with her words. My hands ache with the need to reach out underneath the covers and pull her close.


    It takes more willpower than I thought I had to resist. She sees too much, Maddie. She sees right through me.


    And she¡¯s made her opinion of me clear.


    ¡°This is nice,¡± she murmurs into the darkness of our bedroom.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve slept in the same bed as someone.¡±


    I close my eyes against the softness of her voice. ¡°d to help.¡±


    ¡°I work so much. You work a lot, too. And I want it all-the restaurant, the opportunities¡­ but it gets lonely. Don¡¯t you get lonely, too?¡±


    And perhaps I¡¯ve had just the right amount of whiskey for this question, because the answer feels like it¡¯s dragged from the very depths of my soul, something I¡¯d never admit to anyone else.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur. ¡°But not right now.¡±


    Her breathing is soft in the darkness. ¡°Me neither.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 26

    I wake up to the sound of birdsong and the feeling of warmth surrounding me, still caught in the current of a half-remembered dream. Birds are unusual enough to drag me out of sleep.


    So is the arm lying across my waist, warm and strong. I snuggle deeper into the soft linen. If this is a dream, going back to sleep seems like the best thing to do.


    But the arm around my waist moves, tightening, and I¡¯m pulled against a hard chest. Someone sighs against my hair.


    My mind pulls itself fully out of sleep.


    Liam is holding me.


    We must havee together in our sleep, sometime during the night, but I can¡¯t remember it. My cheeks me with the realization that it might have been me who reached for him.


    Had he been awake?


    Is he awake now?


    A careful nce over my shoulder sets my nerves at ease. He¡¯s not, eyes closed and eyshes long against his cheeks. They¡¯re dark at the base and light at the very ends, like burnished gold, as if they¡¯ve been bleached by sunlight.


    I stare at them for several long moments.


    Other sensations intrude. My leg in between his. The rise of his chest. The softness of his lips.


    I close my eyes, listening to the chirp of birds outside and the sudden thrum of my heart.


    This has not gone ording to n.


    But then, nothing about this whole arrangement has. Because it turns out that Liam is just as capable of enthralling me as he once had been, when he¡¯d been nothing but a mop of honey-brown hair and bruised knees.


    His breathing hitches once, and then he sighs, tugging me closer. The movement sets my back against his front, from head to toe, our bodies resting together like two spoons in a drawer.


    And oh Lord, he¡¯s hard.


    It¡¯s unmistakable through the fabric of his boxers. Barely breathing, I rest my hand on top of his arm around me. His skin is hot to the touch, like he¡¯s operating his own private furnace inside.


    Liam groans and shifts, his leg sliding between mine. His hand snakes under the hem of my T-shirt to smooth up my skin.


    Holy shit.


    Is he awake?


    Does it matter?


    The clear evidence of his erection twitches once against my back, like it¡¯s giving me a response. No, it doesn¡¯t.


    But he won¡¯t be asleep forever, and as good as his touch feels¡­ the idea of having his hands on me while he might dream about someone else is like a firebrand down my throat.


    ¡°Liam,¡± I whisper, not moving from my position. His thumb grazes the underside of my breast. ¡°Liam.¡±


    ¡°Mmm?¡± The hand goes t against my skin. ¡°Maddie.¡±


    ¡°The very one.¡±


    A groan. ¡°It¡¯s too early.¡±


    ¡°The early bird gets the worm,¡± I say, like an idiot, because I can¡¯t focus on anything with him pressing against me.


    A hoarse voice replies. ¡°That saying has never made sense to me.¡±


    ¡°It does to the bird.¡± I nce over my shoulder as he blinks his eyes open, the dark green the same color as the Washington pines outside our cabin window. His body tenses when he realizes our position-his hand on my skin, my leg between his, the hardness of him pressed against my back.


    Our eyes meet.


    And then he rolls onto his back, releasing me so abruptly that my skin smarts from the sudden absence.


    He puts a muscled arm over his face. ¡°That¡¯s not embarrassing at all.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t tell anyone.¡±


    ¡°Thank God for the small mercies.¡± He nces down his nose at himself, like he¡¯s telling his body to behave, and the image is enough to make me giggle. ¡°Not helping,¡± hements.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I tug the cover up to my chin. ¡°It happens sometimes, I know.¡±


    He runs a hand through his hair, the thickness tousled and unkempt. It¡¯s not fair that he just wakes up like that.


    The words dance to the tip of my mind. I don¡¯t mind. But the image of the woman at the bar stops me, the voice of the one who¡¯d knocked on his door.


    It¡¯s been a long time since I was the girl Liam confided all his secrets to. And perhaps I don¡¯t want to be anything less than that girl again, not to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he repeats.


    ¡°Soon enough you¡¯ll be allowed to find a woman who can help you out with that,¡± I say, inclining my head to his midsection.


    His eyes drift closed, arge hand raking over his face. ¡°Right. Well, I hope I didn¡¯t crush you in your sleep.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m uncrushed.¡±


    ¡°Good, because I¡¯d hate it if I became the serial killer in this serial killer house.¡±


    ¡°Did you see that they have a basement? Rita told me yesterday.¡±


    He opens one eye. ¡°You didn¡¯t go down, did you?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t, scout¡¯s honor.¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Good.¡± The eye closes. ¡°Albert mentioned he wants to go for a walk around the grounds with his dogs before you and I head back to Seattle. The sooner I get him on board, the sooner we can end this charade.¡±


    My hand tightens on the edge of theforter. ¡°So you¡¯re actually going to see a man about a dog.¡±


    His lips quirk. ¡°Yes. Fancy that.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 27

    I swing my legs off the side of the bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of panties, his T-shirt, and his diamond ring. I look down at my hand.


    ¡°Can I shower first?¡± I ask. ¡°I want to see if I can help with breakfast.¡±


    Behind me, Liam takes a deep breath. ¡°Sure,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ll just lie here for a while. Seems like I need a cold one.¡±


    Myughter is strained with nerves and things unsaid.


    The warm water does nothing for my body¡¯s awareness of him, my skin remembering where his had been. Like footprints in the snow, he¡¯d marked me, and they refuse to thaw away.


    By the time Liam and I climb into his sportscar to head back to Seattle, the sun has already passed its peak and afternoon has begun.


    He drums his hands on the steering wheel.


    ¡°In a rush?¡± I ask him, shifting my seat back to give myself space to stretch. He snorts as he looks at me.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need that much leg space,¡± he says. ¡°You haven¡¯t grown an inch in height since we were fourteen.¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yourments might be true, but they¡¯re unnecessary.¡± I stretch my legs out and wiggle my feet in the delicious space. ¡°See howfortable I am?¡±


    A smile lurks on his lips, but his fingers don¡¯t stop tapping away at the steering wheel.


    ¡°Again, what¡¯s the hurry?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m having dinner at my brother¡¯s house tonight. My mother will be there too.¡±


    ¡°Oh, say hi from me,¡± I say.


    He arches an eyebrow. ¡°As they are blissfully unaware of our little arrangement, I won¡¯t. But thanks for the sentiment.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Right. That¡¯s going to get us in trouble one of these days.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t I know it,¡± he mutters.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t family dinners usually a good thing, though?¡±


    Liam takes a moment to answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll be able to get used to it.¡±


    ¡°To what? To dinners?¡±


    ¡°To the way you seem to know what I¡¯m thinking, even when I haven¡¯t said a thing.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, I do know you quite well. Or at least I did, even though the new you is less familiar.¡±


    Liam¡¯s voice has the faint trace of a smile in it, the trees passing outside the window echoing the green in his jacket. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re getting to know the new me too, it seems.¡±


    I turn down the little mirror in the car to look at my bangs, hopelessly out of control after my morning shower. ¡°So you¡¯re not excited about dinner?¡±


    ¡°I should be working,¡± he says, which sounds like a half-truth. ¡°I lost all of yesterday, and half of today.¡±


    ¡°Technically, you were working this weekend. I can testify to that-you were very schmoozy with Albert.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a word.¡±


    ¡°It is now,¡± I say. ¡°Besides, don¡¯t you want to see your nieces and nephew?¡±


    ¡°The oldest is Ethan through and through, but the middle kid¡­ I can see us in her.¡±


    ¡°Us?¡±


    He turns to me, eyebrow raised at the pitch in my voice. ¡°Yes. The way we were as kids, I mean. She has the energy of a thousand batteries.¡±


    I can¡¯t help it-Iugh. ¡°Poor Ethan.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s handling it well enough, but I can¡¯t wait until she¡¯s older. I hope she gives him hell,¡± Liam says, but his voice is fond.


    ¡°I hope I¡¯ll get to meet them one day.¡±


    My words are spoken without thinking, but the words drop like an anchor between us, drawing up a host of questions that neither of us have answered.


    Because we¡¯re not in a proper rtionship.


    So I lean back and search for a change of topic, a way back to our easy conversation.


    ¡°It¡¯s been fourteen years since we saw each other every day,¡± I say. ¡°Tell me what you¡¯ve been up to.¡±


    Amusementces his voice. ¡°You want a y-by-y of fourteen years¡¯ worth of life?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Tell me what you ate for breakfast on the first of March six years ago.¡±


    Heughs. ¡°Probably nothing but a ck cup of coffee.¡±


    ¡°Nothing? But breakfast is the best part of the day!¡±


    ¡°No, it absolutely is not,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s an unnecessary hurdle. I wake up and I want to start my day-not pause and eat.¡±


    For a moment, I can do nothing but look at him. His words are sphemy.


    He nces over at me with a cocked eyebrow. ¡°Let me guess. It¡¯s your favorite meal of the day?¡±


    ¡°Undoubtedly.¡± Looking down at my hand, I dramatically pull my engagement ring off.


    Liam chuckles. ¡°No you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I roll down my car window, ring sped in hand. ¡°But this is over.¡±


    Heughs and my window rolls back up again, controlled from his door. ¡°Mercy, please,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ll never say a bad word about breakfast again in yourpany.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s enough that you¡¯re thinking it,¡± I say, but I slide the tinum ring back on my finger. ¡°You¡¯re going to let me prove you wrong.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 28

    ¡°You¡¯re going to cook me breakfast?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, dead serious. Some things are not joking matters. ¡°Do you like bacon?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    ¡°How do you like your eggs?¡±


    ¡°Anything but poached.¡± He nces over at me. ¡°Why do I feel like I¡¯m being interrogated?¡±


    I settle back into my seat, smiling at him. ¡°Because you are. I¡¯m not leaving anything to chance.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t y fair.¡±


    ¡°And I still haven¡¯t learned anything about what you¡¯ve been up to in the past fourteen years.¡±


    He shakes his head, honey-brown hair falling across his forehead. ¡°I¡¯m not the interesting one here. I want to hear about you.¡±


    ¡°About me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. What was your first job? Did you date anyone in high school? When did you move to Seattle?¡±


    I bite my lip. ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not?¡±


    ¡°You refusing to answer any of my questions but asking me three in a row. How about we get to ask one each?¡±


    His lips quirk. ¡°Sure. You first. Tell me about your first job.¡±


    I settle back in the seat. ¡°Do you remember the small pretzel and hot dog stand in Fairfield?¡±


    The rest of the drive is filled with old memories and stories, ones I haven¡¯t thought about for years. Liam¡¯s are more oundish-he lived in a two-bedroom apartment with four guys when he first moved to New York-but no less intriguing.


    He¡¯s halfway through a story about a terrible boss when his phone rings, connecting to the car speakers.


    Liam takes one look at the screen and groans.


    My eyes widen.


    Cole Porter.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say anything,¡± he warns me, pressing answer.


    ¡°Hey. Everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, absolutely.¡± Cole¡¯s voice fills the car. ¡°Look, I just got a call from Albert Walker.¡±


    Liam snorts. ¡°I just left his hunting cabin. Seems like he¡¯s acting fast.¡±


    ¡°Seems like you¡¯ve been pretty sessful.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s seriously considering it,¡± Cole says. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re doing is working.¡±


    ¡°I knew it would.¡±


    Cole snorts. ¡°He wants to have a chat with both of us, so I invited him to an event I¡¯m having at Skye Hotel this Thursday. I think we almost have him.¡±


    Liam nods, eyes on the road. ¡°Great news. I¡¯ll be there.¡±


    Cole pauses. ¡°He also spoke of someone named Madison¡­ who you¡¯re apparently engaged to. Have you been living a double life, man?¡±


    Liam¡¯s face is tight. ¡°Not that I know of.¡±


    ¡°Well then, I look forward to meeting her. Bring her along to the event, will you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see if she¡¯s avable.¡±


    Cole chuckles again. ¡°Great. And Carter?¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you break the engagement news to Carter Senior yourself, all right?¡±


    ¡°Thanks, man.¡±


    The line clicks off and the car falls into tense silence.


    Liam clear his throat. ¡°Are you free Thursday?¡±


    That seems like the least of our concerns. ¡°What are you going to tell Ethan?¡±


    He snorts, eyes on the road. ¡°I¡¯ll cross that bridge when Ie to it.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t be at the event?¡±


    ¡°God, no. He only leaves his home when forced to. Trapped in domestic bliss, that one.¡±


    Liam looks over at me, and there¡¯s a hint of triumph in his face, victory in his eyes. ¡°If Albert is calling for a meeting with Cole, we¡¯re close to getting him.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°You have a one-track mind, you know.¡±


    ¡°Ites in handy sometimes,¡± he says, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.


    In his dark jeans and white fisherman sweater, a jacket thrown on top, he looks like the Liam I used to know. The one who spent more time outdoors than inside, always quick with a smile and a wink. He looks approachable. Handsome.


    Normal.


    I look away. ¡°And you need me at the event?¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 29

    ¡°If you¡¯re avable, yes.¡±


    ¡°Let me check my schedule for the week.¡± I sort through my phone, seeing that I have a missed call from my mother. She¡¯d be over the moon if she heard Liam and I¡¯d reconnected.


    ¡°I have an evening shift on Wednesday, but I can exchange it with another cook.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, truly. Hopefully this¡¯ll be thest time we need to pretend.¡±


    Thest time, yes. And then we¡¯d go our separate ways again?


    ¡°Is there a dress code for this event?¡± My hand goes to the hem of my shirt by its own ord. A quick mental survey of my wardrobe options¡­ and no, I don¡¯t have anything I¡¯ll feelfortable standing next to Liam in a suit in, not at a party at a Porter hotel.


    ¡°I¡¯ll send you the details,¡± he says.


    I pull my legs up underneath myself and look at his profile, at the strong chin and straight nose. He looks deep in thought.


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡±


    His mouth softens. ¡°I¡¯m thinking,¡± he says, ¡°that there isn¡¯t a woman in America who¡¯d put up with what you have these past few weeks, with an initial bargain that changes every day.¡±


    My teeth dig into my bottom lip. ¡°Oh. Well, we¡¯re friends, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°We are,¡± he confirms, voice dropping. ¡°And I¡¯m wondering why the hell we ever lost touch after I moved away from Fairfield.¡±


    I¡¯m putting salve on a burn on my hand when Alma pops her head into the changing room. Her chef¡¯s jacket is pristine, as opposed to mine, one of us starting her shift and the other finishing hers.


    We¡¯re like ships in the night tonight.


    ¡°Guess what?¡± she asks.


    ¡°What?¡± I look into the mirror beside her and try to smooth my hair down into something that resembles order. Behave, dammit.


    ¡°I actually have two things.¡± She closes the door to the changing room, shooting me a conspiratorial grin. ¡°Number one-I overheard Jason say to Enrique that he¡¯s cooking ossobuco for the entrance test to the fellowship.¡±


    My lips quirk. ¡°It¡¯s one of his signature dishes.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s some insider info for you. Now you have to cook ossobuco too but make it better.¡±


    I grin. ¡°Oh, I know better than to go head-to-head with him on that. What¡¯s the second thing?¡±


    A smile lights up her face. ¡°There might be a certain someone seated in the dining room right now, a bouquet of roses in front of him, waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, and he¡¯s wearing a suit and he looks delicious. Are you sure the two of you are still in a fake rtionship?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± I say, undoing the buttons of my chef¡¯s jacket at the speed of light. Why oh why don¡¯t we have a shower here at Marco¡¯s?


    ¡°If you¡¯re so sure, then why is he here with flowers?¡±


    I tug the jacket off and return to my mirror perusal. ¡°You don¡¯t have mascara with you, do you?¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± Alma hands me a slim ck wand. ¡°And you¡¯re just friends, are you, if you¡¯re putting on makeup for him?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for me,¡± I say, elongating myshes. ¡°I can¡¯t walk next to a man like that while looking like carrion.¡±


    Almaughs, a delighted sound. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to be more than friends?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m still on a hiatus from men.¡± I hand her the mascara. ¡°Thanks, you¡¯re the best.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re the luckiest,¡± she says. ¡°Jason is arriving any minute to start his shift-hurry out there so he can see you and your hot-as-sin friend.¡±


    I give her a wide grin before slipping out of the changing room and heading through the kitchen. Marco is in his office, his broad back to me, and I hesitate for a second with my hand on the door to the dining area.


    I haven¡¯t told him about the fellowship shortlisting yet. He knows about Jason, but I¡­ well. The more people I tell, the bigger the disappointment might be if I don¡¯t get it.


    Should I let him know?


    But then his phone rings and the moment slips away.


    Liam is waiting in the restaurant, wearing a gray suit, no tie, and the familiar five-o¡¯clock shadow. He doesn¡¯t see me when I arrive, frowning down at his phone. A bouquet of red roses lies on the table in front of him.


    I ignore the curious looks from the wait staff and kick his shoe. ¡°You¡¯re in my ce of work.¡±


    Liam looks up, and the smile that spreads across his face is entirely indecent. I know it¡¯s part of the act, but my body doesn¡¯t, and it¡¯s suddenly remembering the heat of his as he slept next to me.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t stay away,¡± he says. ¡°These are for you.¡±


    I ept the heft of the roses, each of them long-stemmed, the petals curved and dusky. ¡°You got me flowers?¡±


    Liam¡¯s smile turns teasing as he stands. ¡°A flower for my flower.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°You¡¯re too sweet, sugar muffin.¡±


    ¡°Sugar muffin?¡± His long fingers rest under my chin and he tips my head back, lowering his face to mine. He kisses me with a soft normalcy, like this is how he always greets me. Warm lips move against mine, making it hard to think.


    ¡°Hello.¡±


    ¡°Hi,¡± I breathe back.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    I nod, because words still seem too fraught to attempt. He grabs my hand and I¡¯m pulled toward the exit, through the familiar setting of the restaurant I¡¯ve worked at for months. I don¡¯t see any of it.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    We pass Jason by the front door. His mouth is set in an ugly t line as he watches us pass.


    Liam nods at him, but I don¡¯t, because I¡¯m still struck by the casual way Liam¡¯s touching me. The casual way he kissed me.


    ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡± I ask when we¡¯re safe and sound on the sidewalk.


    He releases my hand, grinning. ¡°I raised the stakes, asking you toe with me to yet another event. Figured I needed to pay you back.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 30

    I swallow. ¡°You sure did.¡±


    ¡°I think this fake boyfriend stuff is for me,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve never bought flowers for a woman before and enjoyed it this much.¡±


    I blink down at the beautiful but deceptive roses, all part of the ruse. ¡°They¡¯re gorgeous.¡±


    ¡°A rose for my rose,¡± he says, and thenughs again at the statement. ¡°Your ex looked struck.¡±


    I force down the foolish hopes that had risen when his mouth had touched mine, because of course he¡¯d known Jason was around. ¡°Thank you for that little piece of showmanship.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re very wee,¡± he says. ¡°Now,e on. We¡¯ve got ces to be.¡±


    ¡°We do?¡± I heft my bag onto my shoulder and shift the flowers into my other arm. ¡°I thought Cole¡¯s event wasn¡¯t until tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not, but I figured we¡¯d go dress shopping.¡±


    My eyebrows must have risen to my hairline, because Liam actually reaches up and runs a hand over the back of his neck. He looks like when he was eleven and confessed he¡¯d been the one to leave the door to my hamster cage open.


    ¡°Dress shopping?¡±


    ¡°Like we¡¯re the characters from Pretty Woman?¡±


    He grins. ¡°In essence, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°But I want you to know that I don¡¯t see you as a prostitute.¡±


    ¡°The praise, the ttery-it¡¯s too much.¡± I give him a light shove, and even the brief contact sends a shiver through me. Get a grip, Webb. ¡°You don¡¯t think I have dresses to wear?¡±


    His eyes narrow, like he¡¯s nning his next words carefully. It¡¯s the same expression I¡¯ve seen him wear around Albert Walker. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have a lot of lovely options,¡± he says. ¡°But as you¡¯d not attend this event if it wasn¡¯t to help me, I think it¡¯s fair that I help with the necessary equipment.¡±


    ¡°Necessary equipment? God, Liam, you really know how to tter a girl.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s one of my many talents.¡±


    ¡°You might be the least modest person I know.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says. ¡°Achievementes in all forms.¡±


    I shake my head at him, looking past him to the stores that line the central Seattle street.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    He¡¯s not wrong, strictly speaking. My cocktail dresses amount to exactly one, and I¡¯d already worn it to our previous dinner with Albert.


    ¡°Let me get this straight,¡± I say. ¡°You really want toe shopping for dresses with me?¡±


    There¡¯s a sigh from the man on my left, and when I nce over, Liam is responding to an email on his phone.


    I frown. ¡°Do you do this with all the girls?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says, pausing to finish whatever he¡¯s doing. As soon as the phone is gone, he gives me the charming smile I recognize is his trademark. ¡°And I¡¯m really just here to pull out the credit card.¡±


    ¡°Your solution to all of life¡¯s problems?¡±


    ¡°It just might be,¡± he says. ¡°Now, let¡¯s go wherever you want to go.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing this is a one-store maximum?¡±


    ¡°That would be preferable,¡± he says.


    Perhaps the person I was a few years ago would bristle against this. Be offended, even. Or perhaps I would have thrown myself into it with reckless abandon.


    But now, with my daily job as far away from fashion and dresses and softness as possible, well¡­


    ¡°I know just the ce,¡± I say.


    ¡°Excellent.¡± Liam¡¯s eyes drift to my lips, and then lower still, to the hand still gripping my flowers. He frowns. ¡°What have you done to yourself?¡±


    He takes my hand in his, turning it over to inspect the bright red burn on the side of my palm. It¡¯s still smarting.


    ¡°What did you do?¡±


    ¡°Hot pan.¡±


    ¡°Let me rephrase-what did the hot pan do to you?¡±


    ¡°It attacked me,¡± I say. ¡°Vicious little thing, but don¡¯t worry. I gave as good as I got.¡±


    His lips twitch. ¡°Your profession is dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Every profession has its dangers. I like the fact that mine is limited to burns, and not, you know, a financial copse.¡±


    Now Liam¡¯s smile is full-blown. His fingers rest around the burn, as if he can pinch it shut. ¡°upational hazard,¡± he says. ¡°Do you need to put something on this?¡±


    ¡°I already have.¡± My body is warring between wanting to pull my hand back, and wanting to curve my fingers around his. This bright burn isn¡¯t the only blemish I have, my fingers dotted with scars from simr idents.


    They¡¯re a chef¡¯s hands, and they¡¯re my tools, but they could never be called dainty.


    His fingers shift over to my pinky instead. ¡°Remember when you broke this?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re brave enough to bring that up.¡±


    He grins. ¡°We¡¯re never too old to have this argument.¡±


    ¡°I told you we should have climbed my route,¡± I say, but my voice is soft, even as I imitate my nine-year-old self.


    ¡°And I told you,¡± Liam echoes, ¡°that you should have followed my path exactly.¡±


    We both look at my crooked pinky. The memories of days in the sunlight, of misty rains and muddy shoes, when all we did was explore.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 31

    He gives my fingers a squeeze before dropping them. ¡°Do you have a store in mind?¡±


    We arrive at Ivy & Oak, the giant gilded doors opening automatically for us. It¡¯s the store my mother always makes a beeline for when she¡¯s in Seattle, and the familiar scent of the store makes me smile.


    And amongst the zers and cardigans, they also make killer eveningwear.


    We¡¯re greeted by an upbeat middle-aged woman who escorts us to the changing rooms, a beautifully lit area with plush seating.


    ¡°You¡¯re wee to have a seat, sir,¡± she tells Liam. ¡°Now,¡± she says to me, ¡°what are you looking for?¡±


    As I rattle off a description of a cocktail dress, she nods. ¡°I see, I see.¡±


    ¡°Something to match him,¡± I say, nodding to my newfound-friend-and-sometimes-fake-fianc¨¦. The man in question isn¡¯t listening to us, his brow furrowed as he works on his phone. The giant bouquet of roses rests on the seat beside him.


    ¡°Ah,¡± the woman says. ¡°I see. Well, I¡¯ll bring you a set of options right away.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± And that¡¯s how I find myself standing in front of a floor-length mirror in a rose-colored changing room, my hands still smelling faintly of the ratatouille I¡¯d cooked earlier in the day, wearing a tailored purple dress that costs nearly three hundred dors.


    Sometimes in life, you just have to shrug and go with the flow.


    I turn every which way, and the skirt swishes around my legs. The movement is so unfamiliar and so lovely that I do it a few more times for good measure.


    ¡°Everything all right in there?¡± It¡¯s thedy¡¯s voice. I nce at the rack she¡¯s brought into my changing room, the eight dresses hanging neatly. ¡°Yes, everything is fine!¡±


    It¡¯s about a minute until I dare pull back the curtain a bit to see Liam alone on the plush couch, still with his phone. Someone¡¯s put a ss of champagne on the table next to him.


    ¡°Does alcohol just appear, wherever you are?¡± I ask.


    He nces up at me, then to the ss, before grinning. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s one of my best qualities. How¡¯s the dress?¡±


    I push the curtain back and spin, the purple panels flowing around my legs.


    ¡°Gorgeous,¡± Liam says. ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s the first one I¡¯ve tried!¡±


    ¡°So? You look great in it.¡± He reaches up and puts his hands behind his head, one long leg on top of the other. ¡°The color suits your hair.¡±


    ¡°Are you a fashion expert?¡± I look at myself in the mirror, turning every which way. With a sweetheart neckline, it looks good.


    ¡°I am an expert in all things,¡± he says. ¡°I used to be an expert in you.¡±


    My heart lurches beneath my ribs. ¡°I used to be an expert in you, too. Do you still like your Pop-Tarts choctey and toasted?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like them at all, now.¡±


    ¡°See?¡± I shake my head at him, mock sadness on my face. ¡°I¡¯m no longer an expert.¡±


    His smile widens. ¡°It¡¯s like you don¡¯t know me at all.¡±


    ¡°Help,¡± I call out. ¡°I¡¯m with a stranger!¡±


    Laughing, he nods to the changing room. ¡°Go on, you lunatic.¡±


    The next dress is an absolute no, and so is the third one. I don¡¯t even go out to show them to him, because the silken fabric clings in ces that no fabric should cling to, giving me extra pairs of hips.


    ¡°Are you holding out on me?¡± Liam asks through the curtain.


    ¡°You want to see what I¡¯m trying on?¡± I shuffle with the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back just to reveal my face.


    But that¡¯s not what happens. His gaze goes directly to the mirror behind me instead, where my body is on full disy in nothing but panties and a bra.


    A heated beat of silence.


    ¡°This outfit,¡± he murmurs. ¡°This is my favorite.¡±


    The knocking between my ribs bursts into a stampede, and the memory of his body against minees back like a torrent. His hardness pressed into my back.


    I can¡¯t breathe.


    Until his smile breaks out, the one that¡¯s wide and effortless and charming, the one that says don¡¯t take me seriously. ¡°Albert Walker would sign the deal on the spot, if you came to the party looking like that.¡±


    I roll my eyes at him and smile, pushing him away and the curtain closed. A joke.


    We¡¯re just friends.


    And as I nce in the mirror at my gray cotton panties and the nude-colored bra, I look familiar and strong. I like my body. But I¡¯m dead certain it¡¯s not the kind to make Liam Carter pause.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    Swallowing, I carry on with my task. Dress on, dress off. Repeat.


    When I slip into thest dress, I know it¡¯s a keeper right away. The fabric is a thick, stretchy red, clinging to my form in artful drapes. It¡¯s off-the shoulder, and the straight neckline coupled with the construction makes my waist look tiny.


    Oh, and did I mention the slit?


    It has a slit.


    It goes to mid-thigh, but with the folds of the dress the effect is elegant without drifting into tacky.


    I can¡¯t remember ever looking better.


    ¡°Maddie?¡± Liam¡¯s voice reaches me. ¡°You know you¡¯re going to look good in anything.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just saying that because you want to leave.¡±


    ¡°Leave?¡± He snorts. ¡°I¡¯ve got champagne, my phone, and a beautiful woman nearby in her underwear. I¡¯m perfectly fine where I am.¡±


    ¡°Have I mentioned that you¡¯ve be kind of a sleaze-ball?¡±


    ¡°Multiple times, I believe,¡± he replies. ¡°It hasn¡¯t lost its novelty yet.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 32

    Looking myself over in the mirror, I split my bangs so they form more of a sideswept look. Imagine myself in a pair of heels¡­


    ¡°I think I found the dress.¡±


    ¡°You already have,¡± he replies. ¡°The purple one.¡±


    I pull the curtain back and lean against the side of the cubicle, pushing the slitted leg out. ¡°Come again?¡±


    Liam does a double take. His gaze rakes me from top to bottom, and the heat that blooms in it makes me shiver.


    It feels so good to be wanted.


    ¡°Maddie¡­¡± he says, putting down his phone.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice, right?¡± I walk barefoot onto the padded carpet, turning to give him the full three-sixty view. My blood is beating with adrenaline.


    ¡°Gorgeous,¡± he murmurs.


    I watch him in the mirror, sitting behind me. ¡°Come here,¡± I say. ¡°I want to see if I match you.¡±


    He raises an eyebrow but does as I say. He¡¯s tall beside me, the button of his suit jacket undone. A hint of a tan ys across his skin.


    He slides his arm around my waist as we watch ourselves in the mirror, my red dress and his tailored suit.


    ¡°You match me,¡± he says. ¡°You always have.¡±


    And I¡¯m the one who has to swallow at that, looking at him in the mirror and seeing him look right back at me.


    ¡°Only took ten dresses to find the right one,¡± I say.


    ¡°It would have been worth it if it took twenty.¡± Liam kisses me on the forehead, his hand squeezing my waist before he lets go. The words he¡¯d said don¡¯t, however.


    They stay with me as we head to the register, as Liam adds the purple dress to the cashier with a hushed no to my protest, handing over his card.


    They stay with me when he gives me a crooked smile and tells me to use his kitchen this weekend.


    And when I try to sleep that night, with the big event the next evening, the look in his eyes ys over and over.


    You match me. You always have.


    The red dress floored me.


    I know it¡¯s materialistic of me, but hell, there is nothing like a woman in a sexy dress, and there¡¯s nothing like a woman in a sexy dress who knows she¡¯s sexy.


    And that¡¯s what Maddie had looked like, with the red dress clinging to her form. entuating the narrow waist, the delicate shoulders, the strength in her legs.


    I lean my head back against the car seat and close my eyes. The want is growing stronger by the day, by every joke she makes and every taunting smile.


    When I¡¯dplimented her yesterday, with her standing in that changing room in only her underwear¡­


    Her face had gone nk-like I¡¯d shocked her to her core.


    Like the implication of my joke was foreign to her. What else had I been able to do then, but to joke it away?Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    The door to my car opens and I blink my eyes open, only to see the real Maddie standing there.


    And I¡¯m reminded once again that my mind has ws, because she¡¯s ten times lovelier in person than in my memories.


    ¡°Hey there,¡± she says, smiling. ¡°Were you sleeping on the job?¡±


    ¡°Very nearly.¡± Whatever magic she¡¯s done to her face has made it luminescent, amp I should look away from but can¡¯t. Her eyes are deeper, somehow, darker. Long, darkshes sweep like the wings of a butterfly when she blinks.


    And the red on her lips makes them look more fuckable than ever.


    She looks a million miles away from the neighbor girl I¡¯d grown up with, and yet so familiar it makes something inside of me ache with longing.


    ¡°You okay there, Carter?¡±


    ¡°Never been better,¡± I say, and by God do I mean it.


    It takes us no time at all in the light Seattle traffic to arrive at Skye Hotel. Maddie slides her arm underneath mine and wobbles slightly on her heels.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I¡¯m not used to walking in these things.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll catch you if you fall,¡± I promise.


    Her gaze tracks the hotel. ¡°This ce is pretty new, right? I¡¯ve never been here before. Isn¡¯t there a bookstore in the lobby?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was opened just two years ago.¡± I snort. ¡°Cole named it after his wife.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Maddie breathes.


    Does she find it romantic? Ostentatious? I can¡¯t tell. ¡°We almost forgot,¡± I say, sliding my hand into my coat pocket. ¡°You have to wear your ring.¡±


    Maddie smiles as she sees it, like she¡¯s being reunited with a long-lost friend. ¡°There you are, little guy. I¡¯ve missed you.¡±


    ¡°I doubt he¡¯s sentient.¡±


    She covers her left hand with her right. ¡°Not while he can hear you!¡±


    ¡°And to think you thought the ring was too much,¡± I tease, my eyes tracing the outlines of her lips. They¡¯ve never looked fuller.


    ¡°He¡¯s growing on me.¡±


    And I¡¯m growing on you, I think, my mind remembering the soft feel of her body in my arms. It had struck me at odd moments throughout the day, but it had never been as intrusive as right now.


    ¡°Are you ready to do this?¡± she whispers, waggling her eyebrows. ¡°It¡¯s showtime.¡±


    ¡°Break a leg,¡± I tell her, sliding my arm around her waist. ¡°Except, don¡¯t, considering the heels.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 33

    I notice the men ncing our way the second we enter the hotel lobby. Perhaps that¡¯s just a masculine thing, or just a me thing, but I pick up on them as if I¡¯m a submarine with a radar, heading into a warzone.


    I can¡¯t me them. The red dress on Maddie, coupled with the fall of her ck hair, is the sort of thing that draws eyes.


    My arm tightens around her waist. She looks up at me, smiling, and I smile back. Nothing you need to worry about, I think. I¡¯m just fighting a battle with twenty other men in my mind.


    You might be happy to know that Ie out of the fight victorious, with no more than a few nicks and bruises.


    I¡¯ve never felt this way before about a date. Is it because we¡¯re friends, too? Because I¡¯ve held her sobbing in my arms when her cat died, all those years ago?


    Or is it because my blood boils when I kiss her?


    Maddie slides next to me in the elevator. I punch the button for the top floor.


    ¡°Yes?¡± A faint hint of perfume washes over me. Something spicy, with a hint of florals.


    ¡°I just realized something. Cole Porter will be here, right?¡±


    It¡¯s thest thing I thought she¡¯d say. ¡°Yes, I believe so. It is his party, after all.¡±


    ¡°You know I¡¯ve spoken to him-he knows I¡¯m a caterer.¡±


    I understand her worry right away. ¡°We told Walker we met when you were catering.¡±


    ¡°Right, but I might work Cole¡¯s events in the future. He¡¯s one of Marco¡¯s biggest clients.¡±


    And that would be awkward, having been introduced as my fianc¨¦e-not to mention my soon-to-be-ex-fianc¨¦e.


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle it,¡± I tell her, and just in time, because the doors to the elevators slide open. ¡°None of this will reflect badly on you, I promise.¡±


    Now, I¡¯ve been to many of Cole Porter¡¯s hotel bars, but none is as impressive as the one on the top floor of Skye.


    The decor calls to mind old English studies, dark academia, Chesterfield sofas and cigars. It¡¯s a mix of a speakeasy and a library, heavy on the booze and low on the books.


    ¡°Christ,¡± Maddie murmurs. ¡°Look at this ce.¡±


    Perhaps I should let my arm fall from her waist, but I can¡¯t find it in myself to let her go at all. Besides, I need to be nearby if she takes a tumble on those wicked-looking heels of hers.


    ¡°Cool, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like the city version of Albert Walker¡¯s cabin.¡±


    Chuckling, I steer us toward the bar. A sax yer riffs a solo somewhere behind us.


    I order an Old-Fashioned for myself and a champagne for thedy. Maddie takes a step closer to me, like she¡¯s leaning on me for support.


    ¡°Guess what?¡± she whispers.


    ¡°What?¡± The drink down my throat does nothing for the pit of desire in my stomach. If anything, it just fans the mes.


    ¡°A woman just stared daggers at me, the first of the night.¡± Her smile is wide, teasing, the one I love the most. ¡°Another one of your conquests?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see her, so I couldn¡¯t tell you,¡± I murmur, raising an eyebrow. ¡°And for the record, I think ¡®conquests¡¯ is considered a derogatory term now.¡±


    ¡°Depends on the conquests, I suppose,¡± Maddie says. ¡°I¡¯m sure some would enjoy it.¡±


    I shouldn¡¯t.


    But I say it anyway.


    ¡°And is there anyone here you¡¯d like to be conquered by?¡±


    ¡°I think I prefer being the conqueror.¡± She looks away from me to the crowd, as if she¡¯s scanning for possibilities. I lean against the bar next to her, the two of us side by side and only a few inches apart.


    ¡°Man in a ck suit, two o¡¯clock,¡± I say. ¡°He¡¯s already checked you out.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm. Well, I might be done with men altogether.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± I take another sip of my drink to burn away the re of disappointment. ¡°On behalf of all men, let me just say that would be a tragedy.¡±


    She lets out an audible breath. ¡°A tragedy, you say?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d have to institute a national day of mourning,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d never wear anything but ck again.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    Her arm grazes mine. ¡°A pity, since you look so good in gray.¡±


    ¡°Not as good as you look in red.¡± I can¡¯t stop flirting with her. Can she hear how serious I am, beneath the light words? ¡°You look like you should be distracting Bond at a poker table.¡±


    Her mouth softens into a smile. Because that¡¯s the thing with Maddie. When she¡¯s not challenging me, she¡¯s smiling at me, and it¡¯s only ever those two. ¡°Are you Bond in this scenario?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I suppose it depends on whether or not you choose to distract me.¡±


    A teasing smile ys on her lips. ¡°A pity that there aren¡¯t any poker tables here, then.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I can have that arranged.¡± My gaze dips down to the cherry red of her lips. ¡°What¡¯s the reason behind this vow of celibacy, then? Don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s because of Jason.¡±


    ¡°It might be,¡± she admits.


    I put a hand to my chest. ¡°You can¡¯t let him give all of us a bad name.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she teases, ¡°you¡¯re often good enough at doing that all by yourself.¡±


    ¡°Wounded, I say. Wounded.¡±


    Maddie puts her hand over mine on my chest, her fingers warm. I can feel the band of her engagement ring against my skin. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she says. ¡°There¡¯s still hope.¡±


    Hope for me to redeem myself?


    Or hope that she might break her vow against men?

 Billion Dollar Fiance 34

    But then she takes her hand back. ¡°In truth, it¡¯s rtionships I¡¯ve put a pause on,¡± she says. ¡°They¡¯re too much work.¡±


    ¡°Atst, something I can agree with.¡±


    ¡°When was yourst rtionship?¡±


    ¡°What constitutes a rtionship, exactly?¡±


    I grin, unperturbed. ¡°Four or five years ago, probably. Itsted for two years.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, too,¡± Maddie says. ¡°You work and work and work, and you put in effort, but then the rtionship falls apart anyway.¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± I say, taking a sip of my drink. ¡°What was the reason you and Jason broke up?¡±


    She shakes her head, her nce sliding from me to the mingling guests. Whatever the reason, she¡¯s not about to tell me tonight either. An unexpected re of jealousy burns through me.


    What is his hold over her?


    Does she want him back?


    ¡°Oh, look. Albert¡¯s here!¡±


    I catch sight of him talking to Cole on the other side of the bar, and sitting in a leather sofa with his thick, gray mustache, he looks like he could be part of the decor.


    Apparently, Maddie is thinking the same thing, because she stands on her tiptoes to reach my ear. ¡°He looks like he should be signing a deration of war or sitting in the Oval Office.¡±


    My mouth tugs into a smile. ¡°He does.¡±


    And despite my initial frustration with the man¡¯s high-handedness, with the distrust for investors, his long-drawn game of cat-and-mouse¡­


    Now it¡¯s begrudging respect and thankfulness I feel for him, because if it wasn¡¯t for him, Maddie wouldn¡¯t be here to make meugh. I press another kiss to the top of her head, her hair silky smooth under my lips. ¡°Will youe join us in about five minutes?¡±


    ¡°You have a n?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    She squeezes my arm, smiling. ¡°I¡¯ll join you in five.¡±


    Albert and Cole look up at me when I advance, both nodding.


    ¡°Good to see you again,¡± Albert says.


    ¡°Likewise. Thank you forst weekend-it was more fun than I¡¯ve had in a while.¡±


    ¡°Judging by your aim, though, you need a bit more practice.¡±


    I chuckle, raising my tumbler. ¡°You¡¯re right about that.¡±


    ¡°This is a good man you¡¯ve hired,¡± Albert tells Cole. ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I had my doubts in the beginning-he¡¯s all slick, like a greased-up New York banker.¡±


    Cole Porter lifts an eyebrow at me, looking pretty slick himself, I think. But he¡¯s worked with Albert for years, exclusively sourcing steel from Walker for his building projects.


    ¡°We had the exact same fear,¡± Cole says. ¡°That¡¯s why we hired the man and put him to the test.¡±


    I raise my ss. ¡°And have I passed?¡±


    ¡°With flying colors,¡± Cole assures me, but it¡¯s really Albert he¡¯s talking to.


    And Albert leans back in the sofa, eyeing us both. ¡°I have to say, I think I¡¯ve decided to give you lot a chance.¡±


    My lip quirks up, but I let Cole be the one who responds. Because while I¡¯ll be at the helm of the investments, the money I handle is Cole¡¯s-a third of it, at least.


    ¡°Happy to hear it, Albert.¡±


    ¡°Truth be told, it¡¯s time. We need outside capital to grow, and you¡¯ll provide us with that.¡±


    ¡°That we will,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to meet with your office in theing week to hammer out the details.¡±


    ¡°Like a shark, isn¡¯t he?¡± Albertments to Cole. ¡°Going in for the kill.¡±


    But he¡¯s grinning, and when he reaches for my hand, we shake. ¡°Where¡¯s your lovely fianc¨¦e?¡± he asks. ¡°I have a message from my wife to ry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s here somewhere.¡± I make a show of looking over my shoulder. ¡°Maddie¡¯s always making friends.¡±


    Cole raises an eyebrow at me, but I give him a cool look. One I hope he interprets correctly as mind your own business.


    ¡°I have to tell you,¡± Albert says, ¡°that Rita was the one who put the final straw in the coffin of this investment, here.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not liken it to death, shall we?¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    Heughs, good-natured. ¡°She told me that if a woman like that loved you, you couldn¡¯t be too bad of a fellow, even if you had worked on Wall Street.¡±


    An unfamiliar pang hits my stomach, an acid taste in my mouth that I haven¡¯t felt in years.


    Guilt.


    ¡°She¡¯s too kind,¡± I say.


    Maddie takes that moment to appear on my left side, right on schedule. Her smile washes over all of us like a warm wave.


    ¡°There you are, darling,¡± Albert says. ¡°We were just talking about you.¡±


    She nces up at me, a soft question in her eyes. ¡°All good things,¡± I reassure her, my hand sliding to her lower back like a ma finding its source.


    ¡°Seems your man here has been sessful,¡± Albert tells her.


    ¡°He has? That¡¯s wonderful!¡±


    ¡°Wore me down in the end. I meant to tell you-Rita tried your venison recipe yesterday.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 35

    ¡°She did?¡± Maddie shifts from me to Albert, sitting down next to him. ¡°How did it go?¡±


    While they fall into a domestic discussion of how to best cook game, Cole takes me aside.


    ¡°Liam,¡± he says, and the tone in his voice hints at roughly five different arguments.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± I tell him. My eyes are still on Maddie, her face animated as she talks about cooking.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t told Ethan about this.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    Cole sighs. ¡°Your personal business is yours, of course. But I¡¯ll be damned¡­ she looks familiar.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve spoken to her before.¡±


    ¡°I have?¡± Another pause. ¡°Yes, I have. Shit.¡±


    Albert takes his leave soon after that, telling me he¡¯ll call in a few days for the final details. Maddie returns to my side, smiling at Cole. There¡¯s something on her face that I haven¡¯t seen in ages-shyness.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Madison,¡± Cole says, his hand outstretched. ¡°That¡¯s your name, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It is, sir.¡±


    ¡°Madison of the excellent salmon puffs,¡± he says. ¡°How did you end up engaged to this guy here?¡±


    Maddie¡¯s cheeks flush, but her eyes are teasing. ¡°I ask myself that question daily.¡±


    Coleughs, pping me on the shoulder. ¡°Well, I hope it doesn¡¯t interfere with your excellent salmon puff-making skills.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I can assure you it won¡¯t.¡±


    Cole shoots me a look that has the words we¡¯ll talkter zed across it. ¡°It was nice to meet you again,¡± he tells Maddie, leaving the two of us alone in the crowded bar.


    She turns a radiant smile on me. ¡°Albert agreed?¡±


    ¡°He did.¡±


    ¡°Congrattions, Liam.¡± She throws her arms around me, the heat of her body tight against mine. She lets go before I do, but I don¡¯t let her go far. My arm slides back in ce around her waist.


    ¡°It was in no small part thanks to you,¡± I say. ¡°As much as it pains me to admit.¡±


    ¡°Sharing the victory, are you?¡±


    ¡°Not in my nature. Now, we might technically be done for the night, but this calls for a celebration.¡±


    Maddie¡¯s eyes dance, the glitter in them bringing out the familiar old pattern in me. I wanted to impress her and make herugh when I was a kid, and I want the same thing now.


    Some things are eternal.


    There¡¯s no celebrating without champagne, and the bottle in the wine cooler between us is the finest they have.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never actually had Dom before,¡± Maddie says, swirling her ss around. She¡¯s crossed her legs, and the slit has ridden high, an expanse of smooth skin on disy.


    ¡°Is this research for you, then?¡±


    ¡°Everything I taste is research.¡±


    I can¡¯t help it. ¡°Everything?¡±


    Her mouth quirks, but she doesn¡¯t reply, taking another sip of her champagne. ¡°This is far too easy to drink.¡±


    My own ss is already empty, but we have an entire bottle to finish. ¡°That¡¯s the point, I think.¡±


    She looks over at me, the unique gray of her eyes clear as mist. ¡°So neither of us are rtionship people.¡±


    It¡¯s out of left field, but I grin, nodding. ¡°Seems like it. Another thing we have inmon, Maddie.¡±


    ¡°Look at all the couples here tonight.¡± She nces around us, at the vast expanse of the bar. A couple is seated not far from us, their hands intertwined on the counter.


    ¡°They¡¯re everywhere,¡± I confirm. ¡°It¡¯s an infestation.¡±


    ¡°Can you imagine having to get dressed up for date night once every week?¡±


    ¡°Having to answer flirty texts all day.¡± I pretend to shiver. ¡°Like I don¡¯t have better things to do?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Not to mention, do I look like I¡¯m made out of free data? I can¡¯t spend it on mindless chatter.¡±


    Iugh, reaching for the bottle between us. I refill both of our sses. ¡°Rtionships and ambition don¡¯t mix.¡±


    ¡°They definitely don¡¯t,¡± she confirms. ¡°I should find myself a guy with absolutely zero ambition. That¡¯s what I need, you know.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°You do, do you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s the problem.¡± She turns to me, and the hem of her dress hikes just a little bit higher. ¡°I¡¯m not attracted to guys without ambition.¡±


    ¡°A ssic catch-22.¡±


    ¡°So it is.¡± She raises her ss to me, smiling. Her bangs are swept to the side today, her skin flushed beneath. ¡°But everyone has their problems, I suppose, and I can live with it if that¡¯s mine.¡±


    ¡°You can really live without men?¡± I shake my head. ¡°You¡¯re strong.¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t live without women?¡±


    ¡°Not sure if I can dignify that with an answer.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a no, then.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a hell no.¡± I tap my fingers along the bar. ¡°And I call bullshit on the fact that you say you can.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 36

    Maddie¡¯s eyebrows shoot high, just like I knew they would. There¡¯s nothing that gets her rising to the surface like a challenge. I lean in, nodding to the couple a few seats down from us. ¡°I bet they think they¡¯re pushing boundaries when they use handcuffs in bed.¡±


    Her eyes widen. ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°I bet they text all the time, and they fight every Sunday over where they¡¯re going to eat brunch. And even with all that, even with the boring vani sex, they¡¯re still getting it regrly, and that¡¯s what no one can live without.¡±


    Maddie¡¯s tongue darts out to lick her lips. ¡°You¡¯re telling me handcuffs in bed isn¡¯t pushing boundaries?¡±


    I give a slow grin. ¡°That¡¯s your takeaway from everything I said?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°Handcuffs isn¡¯t very experimental, no,¡± I confirm. ¡°Have you ever used them in bed?¡±


    She takes another sip of her champagne, a ratherrge one, but her eyes are steady on mine. It¡¯s clear she¡¯s not going to let me shock her.


    ¡°I have not, no.¡±


    ¡°A shame.¡± My hand drifts closer to hers on the bar. ¡°So the sex in yourst rtionship wasn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± she fills in. ¡°It wasn¡¯t interesting.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t interesting?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The flush creeps down her neck, and she reaches up to push her hair back. The movement exposes the long column of her throat and the wide expanse of skin. Corbones. Shoulders.


    My thoughts derailing.


    ¡°I¡¯ve sometimes wondered if perhaps it¡¯s me, that I¡¯m just not that¡­ God, I¡¯ve had too much champagne for this conversation.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing.¡± I make my voice firm. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    She looks up at the ceiling, like she¡¯s petitioning the gods for help. ¡°I¡¯ve started to wonder if it¡¯s me, that I¡¯m just not that interesting.¡±


    I¡¯m shaking my head in disgust before she¡¯s finished the sentence. ¡°Well, that¡¯s bullshit.¡±


    ¡°And how would you know? You¡¯ve never had sex with me.¡±


    Not yet, my mind supplies.


    I hold her gaze. ¡°I can tell.¡±


    The flush deepens, until Maddie feels like a me, scorching me across the few inches separating us.


    ¡°It sounds like it¡¯s the men you¡¯ve been with that have been the problem,¡± I say.


    ¡°Maybe. Perhaps there¡¯s just no such thing as a guy that¡¯s smart, funny, sweet, and good in bed.¡±


    I don¡¯t disagree with her, because I¡¯m all of those things except sweet. ¡°You can have thest one, at least. What¡¯s made you think you¡¯re not interesting?¡±


    She looks past me, like she¡¯s debating her answer. My curiosity rises by every second passing, and not for the first time, my mind returns to the image of her ex ring at me.


    I¡¯ve never enjoyed being red at more.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you this.¡±


    ¡°Why on earth not?¡± I pour us both more champagne. ¡°You¡¯ve known me forever.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, thest time we saw each other, we were still too young to be thinking seriously about having sex. I was, at least.¡±


    I grin. I¡¯d been thinking about it, all right, but my first time had still been a few years away.


    Maddie smiles as well, and for a few moments we just look at each other.


    ¡°You¡¯ve grown up real handsome, you know,¡± she tells me.


    This is when I should quip back how she¡¯s done the same. Raise an eyebrow and say I know. But thepliment strikes lower, right in my chest, warming me more than the alcohol had.


    Fuck, I need to get a grip.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    Maddie saves me from responding, because she puts her head in her hands. ¡°Most of the sex I¡¯ve had just hasn¡¯t been¡­ fun? The guys get so serious right away. Like we¡¯re working on a group project.¡±


    ¡°And we all know how disappointing those can be.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And I¡¯ve tried to suggest things to two guys, Jason being one, about my¡­ preferences, and it¡¯s gone down like a bomb each time.¡± She raises a finger at me, like I¡¯d been about to interject. I hadn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯ve tried saying it constructively and encouragingly, like I¡¯m coaching a little league team.¡±


    My grin is wide. ¡°But no dice?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s like I¡¯m critiquing them when I suggest that I don¡¯t have a button you can just press and poof! Sess.¡±


    I hide my grin behind my hand, but Maddie catches it. She shakes her head. ¡°Can¡¯t believe I said that.¡±


    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve only met your ex once, but it¡¯s fairly obvious he¡¯s not going to handle criticism well. He¡¯s too arrogant.¡±


    ¡°Pot,¡± she says, nodding at me, ¡°meet Kettle.¡±


    I cluck my tongue. ¡°Oh no. His arrogance is fragile-mine is not. To stay the best, you have to keep adapting and learning. No man has the luxury to ignore it when a woman tells him what she wants in bed. No man who wants to have sex with her again, at least.¡±


    Maddie cocks her head, regarding me. Her lips have fallen open.


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Anything wrong?¡±


    Something dances in those gray eyes of hers. ¡°How do you seduce all those women?¡±


    ¡°All those women,¡± I quote, shaking my head. ¡°I wish you hadn¡¯t gotten that impression.¡±


    ¡°Is it wrong?¡±


    I raise a shoulder in a half-shrug. There have been many, but something about hearing her familiar voice speak the words doesn¡¯t make me feel proud about it. ¡°There¡¯s no real how-to guide.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 37

    ¡°But I want to know,¡± she insists. ¡°I want to see.¡±


    She shifts on her barstool so she¡¯s turned toward me, pushing her hair back so both of her corbones are on full disy. I¡¯ve never been a corbone guy before, but she¡¯s damn near converted me.


    ¡°If I was just anyone, someone sitting here at this bar, what would you do? Give me the moves, let me see it. Pretend I¡¯m someone you¡¯re attracted to.¡±


    I bite my tongue. Fuck, but she¡¯s gorgeous when she smiles at me like that. She also scrambles my brain.


    ¡°Won¡¯t be a pretense, Maddie.¡±


    Her eyes widen.


    I make a show of moving my barstool closer to hers so our knees touch. ¡°What are you drinking?¡±


    She looks from her ss to me. ¡°Champagne.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense.¡± I raise an eyebrow and let my eyes fall from her eyes to her lips, her neck, her chest. ¡°Only the best is good enough for someone like you.¡±


    A giggle slips through Maddie¡¯s lips, but she sticks to her character. ¡°A pick-up line? I expected better.¡±


    My smile widens. ¡°You¡¯re in luck, then. Because proving I can be better is one of my favorite pastimes.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And I knew, when I saw you across the bar, that I¡¯d work hard with you.¡±


    Maddie wets her lips and my eyes track the movement. We might be ying strangers-but I know how soft they are to kiss.


    ¡°tterer,¡± she breathes.


    I put my hand on her bare thigh, her skin like warm silk. Lean in a little closer. ¡°It¡¯s not ttery if it¡¯s true, and the truth is I haven¡¯t been able to keep my eyes off you all night.¡±


    Maddie¡¯s eyes don¡¯t stray from mine. ¡°Nor your hands, it seems. My waist and your arm are well-acquainted.¡±


    ¡°The start of a beautiful friendship.¡± I drop my voice, lowering it for her ears only. ¡°But to tell you the truth, my hands don¡¯t want just friendship.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t?¡±


    I shake my head and look down at my hand on her thigh. Maddie does the same, both of us looking as I tighten my grip. ¡°They want much, much more.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°Greedy,¡± she whispers.


    I smooth my fingers an inch higher. ¡°And as stunning as you are in this dress, I want to peel you out of it and learn every inch of your skin, until you let me prove myself to you over and over again.¡±


    Maddie sways closer, her body curving. It¡¯s nothing at all to reach out and slide my arm around her waist. Back where it belongs. ¡°An excellent performance,¡± she murmurs. There¡¯s something breathless in her voice, something that sets off my own heart.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She bites her lip. ¡°This ce has rooms, right?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a hotel,¡± I say, ¡°so one would assume so. Are you tired?¡±


    She gives a small shake of her head. ¡°I¡¯m not tired.¡±


    I don¡¯t let go of her gaze as I drain thest of my champagne, not even as I nod for the bartender to pay our bill.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go find you a room.¡±


    Liam closes the door to the suite behind us and hits the light switch. Dim, artful lights illuminate the richly decorated space.


    I run my hand along the soft linen of the king-size bed. Therge windows open up to the city beyond, two armchairs ced in front. A crystal decanter is filled with amber liquid on the table between them.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been inside a Porter hotel until today,¡± I say. ¡°This bed looksfortable.¡±


    ¡°Sort of the point, I imagine.¡± Liam leans against the closed door, arms across his chest.


    He¡¯s grinning.


    ¡°You think I¡¯m going to lose my nerve,¡± I say. ¡°You don¡¯t think I¡¯ll go through with it.¡±


    He undoes the button to his suit jacket. ¡°Oh, I know you won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°When have I ever backed down from a challenge?¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± he says. ¡°But no one is challenging you to this.¡±


    You¡¯re wrong, I think. I¡¯m challenging myself to this.


    Because being around him tonight, and hearing his words and smile¡­ it feels good to be wanted. To be seen. And damn it, perhaps it¡¯s time to prove to myself what I already know, what Jason had made me doubt.


    I am interesting.


    I give him a crooked smile and open the mini fridge. ¡°I¡¯m going to give you the world¡¯srgest hotel bill.¡±


    ¡°Go right ahead,¡± he says.


    I pull out a few of the cute, miniature bottles of liquor. ¡°How does it feel to be astronomically rich?¡±


    Liam chuckles, sinking down into one of the armchairs. ¡°Excellent.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine.¡±


    I survey the tiny bottles I¡¯ve arranged on the counter.


    Liam¡¯s voice reaches me again. ¡°After a while, though, it just feels normal.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell that to journalists,¡± I say. ¡°You won¡¯t get any sympathy points.¡±


    He chuckles again, but the sound is hoarser than before. We¡¯d finished a bottle of champagne and perhaps that¡¯s what¡¯s talking, but if it is, I¡¯m notining.


    ¡°It¡¯s really just numbers in a game now,¡± he says.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 38

    ¡°One you¡¯ve decided to win?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± He epts the drink I hand him, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Are you a bartender too?¡±


    ¡°No, but I¡¯ve learned.¡±


    He takes a sip, eyes not leaving mine. ¡°Can you do it all, Maddie? Drinks, cook, bake¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a good baker, actually. There¡¯s too much precision work. You¡¯d probably like it. It¡¯s a bit like math.¡±


    ¡°Like math?¡±


    ¡°An equation, I mean. And if you get anything wrong, the solutiones out all incorrect.¡± I sit down on the bed, facing him. He¡¯s draped his arm over the back of the leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other. ¡°You¡¯re distracting me now. I¡¯m not getting the suave treatment.¡±


    His smile widens into a sh of white. ¡°What do you think I do beyond talking to a woman?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know exactly, but I think it¡¯s a lot more.¡±


    ¡°You seem to be very fascinated with my dating habits.¡± He nods to the ss in my hand. ¡°You¡¯re not going to taste your own drink?¡±


    I take a sip and relish the burn. ¡°You worried I¡¯d drugged yours?¡±


    ¡°Terrified,¡± he deadpans. ¡°Now, what are we going to do to get this notion out of your head?¡±


    ¡°What notion?¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯re not interesting.¡± He says the word like it¡¯s an insult. ¡°Interesting, like an article in a newspaper is interesting, or a painting at a museum.¡±This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Oh. That.¡± I lean back on the bed. ¡°This is veryfortable.¡±


    ¡°You should tell Cole the next time you see him.¡±


    ¡°Hah, never.¡±


    ¡°You might not have noticed,¡± Liam continues, ¡°but I saw the way men looked at you tonight, and let me tell you, they all found you more than merely interesting.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the dress.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it certainly helps. Feel free to lie like that, by the way.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I look down only to realize that the slit is riding high, all of my left leg exposed. ¡°God.¡±


    ¡°I figured it wasn¡¯t on purpose,¡± Liam says. ¡°A shame, that. I almost thought you were trying to seduce me.¡±


    My throat feels dry, and I take another sip of my drink for good measure.


    ¡°I meant what I said too. I can¡¯t see you in it without wanting to peel you out of it.¡±


    ¡°Holy shit.¡±


    His grin is back, the intensity fading from his features. ¡°Too much?¡±


    ¡°No. Not at all.¡± Except no drink in the world now helps against my dry mouth. ¡°Liam, I¡¯m not sure I know how to do this.¡±


    I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. But he doesn¡¯t mock me or tease. He leans forward with his arms on his legs. ¡°There¡¯s no manual.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s what I need,¡± I say. ¡°A manual for how to have uplicated, fun, interesting sex.¡±


    ¡°Sex is always interesting. What you want is great fucking sex.¡±


    ¡°Yes, God yes. That¡¯s exactly what I want.¡± I stare up at the ceiling, because facing him is difficult. ¡°And when we were riding the elevator up here, I was determined to have it with you.¡±


    ¡°So I figured,¡± he says, augh in his voice. ¡°I¡¯m not adverse to the idea myself, you see.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t feel nervous at all then, but I do now.¡±


    ¡°Mmm. It¡¯s normal to feel nervous.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t? I wouldn¡¯t say that.¡± Liam rises from his seat, and a secondter the bed dips as he sits down beside me. I watch as he props up a few pillows against the headboard and leans back. ¡°Perhaps I just have the good kind of nerves.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so do I.¡±


    He raises an eyebrow.


    ¡°I do,¡± I insist, turning over on my stomach. His gaze is deep green on mine, the first boy I ever had a crush on.


    The man I¡¯ve rediscovered.


    And the nerves don¡¯t disappear, but they change, because he¡¯s not a stranger at all. He¡¯s Liam, my Liam, and the fact that we¡¯re adults doesn¡¯t change that.


    It only enhances it.


    His voice is hoarse. ¡°You know I can¡¯t handle it when you look at me like that.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to stop looking at you?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡±


    I shift closer to him, rising up on my knees. His gaze drops to my neck and the exposed skin. Note to self, off-the-shoulder dresses mean you have to invest in a strapless bra, but they¡¯re worth every penny.


    ¡°Your skin looks like silk.¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°That¡¯s a great line.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says, shifting so he can slide an arm around my waist. ¡°My arm belongs here.¡±


    Oh, does it ever.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 39

    He¡¯s undone the first two buttons of his shirt, and I can see his pulse there, pounding beneath the skin.


    ¡°What do you usually do now?¡± I whisper. We¡¯re close enough that my skin is warmed by his exhale.


    ¡°See, Maddie, that¡¯s the thing. You¡¯re not like anyone else.¡±


    ¡°The ybook doesn¡¯t apply?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s tossed out the window.¡± His arm tightens, pulling me closer. My handse to rest on the hard nes of his chest.


    ¡°Liam¡­.¡±


    ¡°Mhm?¡± He bends his head to mine, our foreheads touching. We¡¯ve kissed before, but it¡¯s never been like this-when the anticipation alone is enough to set my skin zing.


    ¡°I want you,¡± I whisper.


    A small smile and then my eyes flutter closed, because he¡¯s closing the distance between us. He kisses me carefully, like he¡¯s afraid I might pull away. Like he¡¯s unsure I really want this.


    But his hands grip my waist like retreat isn¡¯t an option.


    His lips raise goose bumps on my arms, send liquid fire through my veins. I want more, and at the same time, I never want him to stop kissing me just like this.


    Like he¡¯s afraid I¡¯ll vanish.


    Liam¡¯s lips ghost across mine. ¡°You taste like champagne,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°I do?¡± I kiss him again, the movement likeing home. ¡°You taste like something I should have had a long time ago.¡±


    Liam groans low in his throat and kisses me with such force that I¡¯m bent backwards, both of his arms circling my waist. Our tongues meet and my nerves melt away like snow in April, flooding and settling lower down, to where my body is starting to ache.


    Liam doesn¡¯t stop kissing me. He alternates between long and fast, between light and deep, until I feel like my lips are swollen.


    When Ie up for air, the lighting in the room has dimmed, like the world itself has narrowed to just the two of us.


    ¡°Did you turn down the lights?¡±


    Liam¡¯s smile is a bit feral. ¡°There¡¯s a switch right here.¡±


    ¡°We should write Cole a thank-you cardter.¡±


    ¡°He should thank us,¡± Liam corrects. ¡°We¡¯re testing out these beds for him.¡±


    ¡°Taking one for the team.¡± I swing one leg over his, straddling him.


    His hands settle on my hips. ¡°One could even say it¡¯s our civic duty. We wouldn¡¯t want some unsuspecting tourist to break the bed and a bone, now would we?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be able to live with myself.¡±


    ¡°d we¡¯re on the same page.¡± Liam kisses me again, the soft scratch of his beard against my face.


    I revel in the feel of it under my hands, as I slide fingers along his jaw. Everything about him is different. Masculine.


    ¡°When did you get like this, huh?¡±


    He switches from my mouth to my cheek, kissing a line to my ear. ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°So broad.¡± My hands grip his shoulders.


    Heughs softly against my skin. ¡°That¡¯s just nature, sweetheart.¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing just about it.¡±


    His hands slide to my hips, his legs flexing beneath me. ¡°And when did your body grow the perfect handholds?¡±


    ¡°Sophomore year of college.¡±


    Liam snorts and leans back against the headboard. His eyes are slitted, and something moves in them that¡¯s stirring the same force in me. ¡°I have half a mind to have you right here, sitting like this, so we can talk while we fuck.¡±


    I don¡¯t look away, even as the words make my insides re. ¡°Talking, huh?¡±


    ¡°Talking,¡± he confirms. ¡°I want to hear you tell me what you like. What feels good.¡±


    ¡°You want me to keep up a running narration?¡±


    A corner of his lip quirks, and my insides tighten as his hands smooth up the sides of my waist. His thumbs graze the underside of my breasts.


    ¡°I sure as hell wouldn¡¯tin if you did,¡± he says. ¡°But I¡¯ve changed my mind. I told you I¡¯d peel you out of this dress, and I¡¯m not doing it sitting like this.¡±


    I yelp as he flips us over, as I find myself stretched out horizontally on therger-than-life bed. Liam¡¯s hands are everywhere, running up the slit in my dress and tracing the length of my arm. ¡°You tell me,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Remember?¡±


    ¡°I remember,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Because if this is a group project, it¡¯s something we¡¯re both getting an A in.¡±


    I bite my lip, but my smilees out anyway. ¡°We always did work well together.¡±


    ¡°We always did.¡± He pulls me up, my hair tumbling around me as we stand next to the bed.


    ¡°The zipper is in the back.¡± I sweep my hair out of the way. His hands are strong and sure as it¡¯s tugged down, and warm as they smooth over my arms to push the fabric away. It falls into a pool of red at my feet.


    My chest rises and falls with the force of my breathing.


    ¡°Stunning,¡± Liam says, running his hands down my arms. My strapless bra is more like a bustier, the panties matching. It had felt like vain folly when I¡¯d put them on this morning, but standing now in front of him, I feel beautiful.


    I turn around and meet his dark gaze. ¡°Thank you for the dress.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    My smile is coy as I focus on undoing his buttons. His breath ising fast, too, beneath his shirt. As it falls off him, I run my hands over the strong chest, the hard stomach, the indentions at his hipbones.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 40

    A smattering of hair makes a little line over his stomach, disappearing into his pants.


    He shivers as I trail it with my fingers. ¡°Maddie, God¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to touch you since you stood shirtless in Cole¡¯s kitchen, after I ruined your shirt.¡±


    ¡°Fuck-really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We have all night, right?¡±


    Hisughter is low. ¡°Cole doesn¡¯t usually rent out his rooms by the hour, no. But there¡¯s no way I¡¯llst all night with you looking like that.¡±


    I take a step away from him, tossing my hair back. His gaze rakes down my body and I feel dizzy with the blood rising in me.


    ¡°Then have me.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me twice.¡±


    Liam¡¯s kisses aren¡¯t slow andnguid now. They scorch my lips and leave me breathless, until I¡¯m forced to break away for air. He runs a hand over my hair and twists his fingers into it, tugging my head backwards.


    I see a sh of his grin before his lips trail down my neck.


    Hispliment falls like armor around me, shielding me from my own thoughts and doubts.


    His hand brushes over my bra buckle. Perhaps he senses my shiver, because his lips return to mine, kissing me with a force that melts away all hesitation.


    He unsnaps the buckle.


    Our eyes meet as he tosses it aside, his so dark they¡¯re almost ck with desire. Then he turns his gaze downward.


    ¡°As much as I liked the lingerie,¡± he murmurs, ¡°I like these infinitely more.¡±


    My breath catches in my throat as his finger circles one of my nipples. It¡¯s already hard-both of them are, pointing straight at him like signal lights.


    He tweaks one in between strong fingers, sending shivers across my skin. A crooked smile on his face as he cups the other in his hand.


    It¡¯s unbearable.


    But no, because when he ducks his head and sucks a nipple in his mouth¡­ that¡¯s unbearable. My whole body draws taut, focusing on the sensation, as heady pulses of need wash over me.


    I slide my fingers into the honey-brown of his hair. ¡°Liam, I-¡±


    He bites down on a nipple and a gasp steals the rest of my words, rips them right out of me.


    ¡°So you like that,¡± he says, a note of deep satisfaction in his voice.


    His grin is wide as he slides his arms around me, walking me back to the bed. I stretch out with him on top of me. ¡°Let¡¯s find out what else you like.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°I like this,¡± I say, sliding my hand through the faint hair on his chest. ¡°It¡¯s new.¡±


    ¡°Since youst saw me at sixteen, you mean?¡±


    I nod, hiking my leg up around his hip.


    Liam¡¯s smile widens. ¡°A lot has changed since then, sweetheart.¡±


    ¡°I can tell.¡±


    He takes my hands in his, encouraging them to explore. They don¡¯t need to be asked twice. Skating over the grooves in his back, the muscles along his sides, the deep ridges in his stomach-I revel in every inch of him, now carved into a man.


    He groans when my fingers trace the waistband of his pants. Heart beating in my chest, I reach down and palm him through the fabric.


    He¡¯s like a rock beneath my hand.


    Liam lifts himself off me. ¡°Not yet,¡± he tells me.


    I pout, and I¡¯m rewarded by a hoarseugh. ¡°Fuck, don¡¯t look at me like that. I¡¯m trying to stick to my list of priorities.¡±


    ¡°Priorities?¡±


    ¡°Let me show you.¡± He slides an arm beneath my head and settles in next to me. I lose myself to his kisses, barely registering the hand that¡¯s pushing my legs apart. Only when his fingers dance along thecy edge of my panties do I realize where he¡¯s heading.


    But Liam doesn¡¯t stop kissing me, not as he starts stroking me through the fabric. Not even as I grip his shoulder, my nails digging into his skin.


    ¡°Stop teasing.¡± He¡¯s touching me everywhere except where I ache.


    ¡°But that¡¯s number one on the list.¡±


    I reach down and push a determined hand inside his pants. The bulge twitches under my hand and his fingers falter between my legs.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll tease you right back, Carter.¡±


    His breath quickens, the stubble on his chin brushing across my cheek. ¡°You always did keep up with me.¡±


    ¡°Keep up? I used to lead the way.¡±


    ¡°Funny how memories differ.¡± He grins, shifting beside me so I have more ess. I manage to undo the button in his pants with one hand-a feat I doubt I¡¯ve ever aplished before or ever will again.


    Liam¡¯s fingers curl around the fabric of my panties and tug them to the side. He curses as his fingers make contact with my skin.


    Me? I close my eyes and focus on breathing. It feels like forever since I was touched by anyone who¡¯s not me.


    ¡°Fuck, Maddie. Do you know how good you feel? So wet.¡± As if to prove it, his fingers part and dip, making my toes curl with pleasure.


    ¡°Congrattions.¡±


    I¡¯d meant it sarcastically, but my voice is breathless.


    Liam¡¯s is sincere. ¡°Thank you.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 41

    His fingers find my clit, like he¡¯s touched me hundreds of times before, and when he starts to lightly circle¡­


    I turn my head against his shoulder to muffle the moan that escapes me. This is torture, death by a thousand faint touches, and yet I never want him to stop.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to taste you,¡± he mutters. ¡°And I can¡¯t fucking wait to be inside you.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t wait?¡± The deep rumble of his voice through his chest is right below my ear. ¡°I¡¯m damn tempted not to, but we didn¡¯t go thirty years without having sex to finish within fifteen minutes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who assured me they don¡¯t rent rooms by the hour here.¡± I slide my hand underneath his boxers, fighting against the tightly stretched fabric to wrap my fingers around him. He¡¯s hot to the touch, and so hard it has to hurt. ¡°Can¡¯t we y all night?¡±


    ¡°More like all week,¡± he mutters, moving out of my reach. My protest dies as I watch him kneel between my syed legs.


    He shakes his head as he stares down at me. ¡°You¡¯re so fucking gorgeous. It¡¯s unreal.¡±


    I grin at him. ¡°I¡¯m already on my back and in your bed, Liam. You don¡¯t have to keep seducing me.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t stop,¡± he vows, hands gripping hold of my panties. I lift my hips so he can slide them off me. ¡°You¡¯re getting the full experience.¡±


    ¡°The VIP package?¡±


    ¡°With backstage passes and everything,¡± he confirms, settling in between my legs. His eyes give me one final look, dark on mine. ¡°Remember-you tell me what you like and what you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You bet.¡± But my next sentence, the one about how much I liked his finger inside of me, dies on my tongue the second his touches me. And perhaps I haven¡¯t really been touched like this before, this slow, teasing flow of his tongue mixed with fast kisses and skilled fingers.


    There are no pointers to give. He knows this better than I do, because I touch myself with fingers, never tongues. And when he closes his lips over the apex of my thighs and flicks his tongue back and forth¡­This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    Ie with my hand buried in his hair and my eyes locked on the ceiling. My orgasm is strengthened by the sheer shock sweeping through me and the satisfied grunts from between my legs.


    ¡°Knew you¡¯de,¡± he says, the soft-sharp stubble of his skin against my inner thigh.


    I take a few moments to catch my breath.


    ¡°Do you know what?¡± I ask, looking down at the deep-green eyes regarding me with masculine pride. ¡°I know you¡¯re going toe as well.¡±


    He grins. ¡°You might be right about that.¡±


    ¡°Shocking.¡±


    He lifts himself up on arms taut with muscle, and I watch him without shame-watch as he pulls down his boxers and the length of him springs free.


    My mouth waters at the sight.


    He reaches for something in the pocket of his jacket. ¡°Keep looking at me like that,¡± he tells me, ¡°and I think I¡¯ll-shit. Fuck, that feels good.¡±


    I can¡¯t answer him, because my mouth is upied. But I can look up at him, at the way his eyes are half-hooded with pleasure.


    Power has its own rewards-the power to please, power to control, power to tease. My stomach tenses with the realization that I have power here, over him. And that just like he had known what to do without me telling him, I don¡¯t need pointers here.


    Not when the swirl of my tongue around the head of him makes his hips thrust. And not when his fingers twine in my hair, his breath quickening.


    ¡°Maddie,¡± he says.


    I don¡¯t stop.


    ¡°Maddie.¡±


    I might as well not have heard him.


    Liam pushes against my shoulders and I fall back on the bed, grinning. ¡°I was having fun with that.¡±


    ¡°So was I¡­ too much fun.¡± He flips me over, pulls me to the edge of the bed-bent over for him. The sound of foil ripping goes off like a cannon inside my mind, my insides aching.


    I wiggle my ass. ¡°Please. I need-¡±


    The rest of my words are stolen as he pushes inside. I grip the sheets and breathe through the intensity.


    I¡¯d forgotten how deep sex can be-how far inside you a man can reach.


    Liam¡¯s hands grip my hips. ¡°Perfect handhold,¡± he murmurs, like he¡¯s just confirmed something to himself. And then he pushes into me again, slow, deliberate strokes that make it clear he¡¯s warming me up.


    I look over my shoulder. He¡¯s watching where we join, and the sight of his face-of the features locked in primal satisfaction-makes my body go boneless.


    God, but it feels good to be wanted, to be touched, to be had like this.


    It feels even better when his hands move over my skin like he can¡¯t stop touching me, like he doesn¡¯t know where to rest his hands. It¡¯s not long until the room is filled with the sound of us.


    I hope Cole soundproofed these rooms.


    Liam pulls out of me without any warning. ¡°On your back,¡± he orders, reaching for one of the pillows.


    I lift my hips up so he can tuck it beneath me. My legs are braced against him, feet on either side of his head.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t like missionary, do you?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°I¡¯m aiming for better than interesting sex here, Maddie, without pushing the boundaries too far.¡±


    We both watch as he lines himself up and pushes in, inch after inch disappearing inside me.


    ¡°You¡¯re seeding.¡±


    His eyes are dark as they shift from my face to my body, down to where we¡¯re joined. Mine trail him just the same-his muscles flexing as he barrels into me.


    ¡°How,¡± another moan, ¡°did you,¡± a gasp, ¡°get so,¡± help me, ¡°in shape?¡±


    Liam raises an eyebrow. ¡°How did you learn how to squeeze a man half to death?¡±


    He reaches for my left hand, fingers pausing briefly around my engagement ring. ¡°Here,¡± he says, cing my hand between my legs. My middle finger just barely grazes his cock on its way in and out of me. ¡°Show me how you work your clit.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 42

    Oh God. I¡¯ve never been this turned on before, not as the raw need in his eyes matches that in me. I touch myself as he thrusts, in and out, the both of us climbing toward a rapidly approaching peak.


    Liam¡¯s hands tighten around my ankles as he groans. The sound-the broken, hoarse cry of pleasure-pushes me over the edge again. Pleasure sweeps through me and carries me away. Liam follows along with a final, deep push inside me.


    I fall back on the bed and try to string my fractured mind back into a semnce of order. A few momentster, Liam stretches out beside me. His hair is mussed and the green of his eyes is liquid.


    ¡°Well,¡± I finally murmur. ¡°I think it¡¯s a good thing we have all night.¡±


    His answering smile holds the promise of pleasure. ¡°Sleep is overrated.¡±


    I wake up to a warm woman in my arms, a head that¡¯s cloudy after too much champagne, and morning wood to rival several acreages of forest.


    Dark hair tickles against my forehead and I move it away, blinking my eyes open. Where am I?


    The Skye Hotel.


    Madison in the red dress.


    And her naked body syed out before me like a feast.


    She stirs against me, sighing. And fuck me, but I¡¯d slept straight through the night without waking up once to check the markets on my phone.


    When did that happen?


    ¡°Liam?¡± Her voice is soft with sleep,zy like a summer¡¯s afternoon.


    ¡°Mmm.¡± I rest my lips against her shoulder, the skin warm underneath my mouth. I press my erection firmly into her back. ¡°We¡¯ve got to stop meeting like this.¡±


    A sleepy chuckle. ¡°God, did we really¡­?¡±


    ¡°We really did. Twice, I think.¡±


    She puts a hand over her face. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I slept with my fake fianc¨¦.¡±


    ¡°me me,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m the one who seduced my fake fianc¨¦e. I should have known you weren¡¯t strong enough to resist, when you asked me to give it to you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, take all the me.¡± She twists her hips back, trapping my cock against her ass. ¡°I was just an innocent bystander.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure you fully understand what bystander means.¡± I move my hips slightly, the friction against her skin sending pulses of pleasure through me. My left hand finds the unbelievable handhold of one of her tits.


    She looks over her shoulder and I¡¯m met by gray eyes, questioning and soft. ¡°Okay,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I was about to ask you what happens to the women you seduce the morning after, but I think you¡¯re about to show me.¡±


    My hand trails down her stomach, down between her legs. Bless a woman who sleeps without panties. ¡°You were the one who told me that you expected more than one go in a night.¡±


    ¡°I did?¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± God, but she¡¯s soft and slick against my fingers, like wet silk. Her breath catches when I slip my middle finger inside her hot heat, but it¡¯s not purely with pleasure.


    ¡°Sore?¡±


    Maddie nods, shooting me a look I know well from our childhood. She always hated admitting weakness.


    My hand slows. ¡°I can be gentle.¡±


    She releases anguid breath, softening against me. ¡°And I can take it.¡±


    I toss back the cover and reach for one of the condoms I¡¯d taken out of my walletst night. Good thing I always carry several.


    I slide it on while Maddie watches, her sideswept bangs falling into her eyes. The remnants of yesterday¡¯s eye makeup somehow makes her more eye-catching, and not less. Light smudging that speaks of good times and countless orgasms.


    I lift her leg up and push into her from the side. Her mouth falls open, her eyelids fluttering closed.


    I pause. ¡°Too much?¡±


    She shakes her head no, but her eyes don¡¯t open. I flex my hips slowly, using every ounce of willpower I possess to keep my body from thrusting.


    Pulling out the big guns, I reach down and tease her clit. Maddie¡¯s breath begins to speed up.


    ¡°Fuck, but you feel good.¡± I flex my hips again. ¡°Did any of the uninteresting guys tell you that? How you¡¯re like a hot vice around my cock?¡±


    A smile ys on her lips. ¡°Never stop seducing me.¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± I vow. The friction and the heat is damn near my undoing, the pleasure tingling in my spine and tightening my balls like a canary in the coal mine. Warning me to stop, or taunting me to go faster.


    Maddie lifts her leg up higher and leans her head back on the pillow. ¡°Just like that,¡± she breathes. ¡°Go slow, just like that.¡±


    Did you hear that? I ask my cock, aching with the need to speed up. But even at this pace, it¡¯s not long until I¡¯m teetering on the edge of explosion.


    I rest my head against her shoulder. ¡°Fuck, Maddie¡­ I won¡¯tst long.¡±


    She reaches back and puts a hand on my hip. Fingers dig into my skin, pulling me closer. ¡°Then don¡¯t.¡±


    I grip one of her tits in my hand as I bury myself deep, groaning into her shoulder as Ie. She moans with each spasm of my hips.


    Who knew the morning-after orgasm would be as earth-shattering as the main event?


    Groaning, I roll onto my back and discard the condom. My heart is pounding like I¡¯ve run a fucking marathon.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    And now that I¡¯m no longer thinking with my cock¡­ ¡°Christ, what time is it?¡±


    Maddie tugs theforter up, her voice bright. ¡°Almost ten.¡±


    My handnds on my forehead, which does nothing to stave off the headache I¡¯m now registering. Once, drinking and working had been par for the course-that¡¯s how juniors investors lived, after all.


    But I haven¡¯t worked hungover in years, not since I joined the big leagues.


    I swing my legs over the side of the bed and run a hand through my hair. Soft, tentative fingers trail down my back. ¡°Thanks forst night. For agreeing to¡­ well. This.¡±


    I look over my shoulder at her, at the shape of her corbones and the smooth skin of her neck. ¡°This is a first,¡± I say.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 43

    ¡°A first?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never had a woman thank me for sleeping with her.¡± A grin. ¡°It¡¯s not bad.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t get used to it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, toote. I¡¯ll be expecting this from now on. Next time, I want you to send me a personalized thank-you note.¡±


    Maddie turns on her side. ¡°Next time? Who¡¯s being presumptuous now?¡±


    My heart speeds up at the implication of her words, of mine, but I just hold up my hands. ¡°Now I know what you look like when youe, and if you don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be working hard to see that again, you don¡¯t know me at all.¡±


    She reaches for one of the pillows and lobs it at me. It bounces off my shoulders and crashes into the bedside table, amp tumbling to the floor.


    ss shatters.


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    Laughing, I grip her around the waist. ¡°That¡¯s the girl I remember from when I was a kid.¡± I bring my lips close to her ear. ¡°Let¡¯s go ride our dirt bikes after this and steal apples from the tree down the street.¡±


    She jabs an elbow into my side. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I vandalized your employer¡¯s hotel.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll just add it to my tab.¡± I pull off of her, getting off the bed. Faint sunlight streams in from the draped windows.


    I pause with a hand on the bathroom door, ready to shower. Maddie watches me from the bed, her dark hair spread out on one of the white cotton pillows.


    ¡°Join me?¡±


    Her mouth curls, but there¡¯s a hint of something in her eyes. Shyness?


    Where did thate from?


    ¡°All right,¡± she says, tossing the covers back.


    We waste a lot of soap, and a ton of water, but damn if it¡¯s not a shower for the ages. Running my hands over the wet curves of her body pushes out the insistent thought that I¡¯ve overslept.


    It¡¯s often said that a man only has enough blood to keep one thing working at a time-his brain or his cock-and for the time being I¡¯d given authority over to thetter.


    Maddie surprises me when she puts a hand on my arm as I¡¯m stepping out of the shower. The kiss she presses against my lips is achingly sweet,den with meaning I don¡¯t understand.


    ¡°What was that for?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°I just felt like it.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow, but she says nothing, reaching for one of the fluffy hotel towels.


    In one solid wrap, the gorgeous curves of her body-the firm tits, the red hips, the treasure beneath-are all gone from view.


    I wrap a towel around my waist and head into the hotel room in search of my clothes. ¡°Are you working today?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and tonight I¡¯m cooking the meals again, the ones you tasted.¡±


    I pull on my pants. ¡°Again? How often are you doing that?¡±


    ¡°This¡¯ll be my fourth time.¡±


    ¡°Fourth?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I do it as often as I can. Don¡¯t professional athletes train? Don¡¯t painters practice? It¡¯s the same thing here.¡±


    I nce over to see her pulling up the tight red dress, and pause with my hands on the buttons of my shirt.


    It doesn¡¯t look as good going on as it diding off, but it¡¯s still a fucking sight.


    Maddie catches me watching. Her hair is wet and straight around her face, her skin clean and flushed. She looks delicious.


    ¡°Good dress,¡± she says, patting it.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°The best dress,¡± I confirm.


    She turns around and gestures for me to do up her zipper. I oblige, my fingers trailing across her skin. ¡°The test will be at the culinary institute, in one of their ssrooms.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Together with the other finalists.¡±


    My fingers pause. ¡°You¡¯re all cooking at the same time? In front of judges?¡±


    Which meant her ex would be in that room, too. The ex she¡¯d enlisted me to make jealous. My stomach tightens at the thought, and it¡¯s not pleasurable.


    ¡°I was thinking¡­¡± Maddie says, not turning back around. ¡°Would you mind being there?¡±


    ¡°Being there?¡±


    ¡°Each finalist can bring a guest or two, you see. They¡¯ll be there to watch the final test. A few other chefs are often there too, sometimes food bloggers and culinary critics¡­¡±


    I rest my hands on her shoulders, thumbs right at the nape of her neck. ¡°Send me the details.¡±


    The muscles rx under my touch. ¡°Will do.¡±


    Fifteen minutester we check out of the Skye Hotel, standing side by side in the giant bookstore-turned-lobby with wet hair. Our clothes are very clearly not daytime attire.


    Maddie wraps her arms around herself beside me, not looking at the concierge.


    I hand over my card. ¡°We broke amp,¡± I add, unable to stop my lips from twisting into a smirk.


    The hotel staffer nods with professional courtesy. ¡°Not a problem, sir. We will-¡±


    ¡°Yes, go ahead and charge the cost to the card.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 44

    Maddie releases a sigh as we step out of the hotel. ¡°God, that was so embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°I can guarantee you he¡¯s seen worse.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s that, I suppose.¡± She shakes her head at the thought, looking up at me. ¡°Have you told your brother about us, by the way? Like Mr. Porter mentioned?¡±


    The question is like a bucket of ice water over my head. I can see his face in my mind, the scowl he used to wear whenever he scolded me. Everyone in Seattle can¡¯t stop associating me with him. Are you Ethan Carter¡¯s little brother, the Ethan Carter?


    My irritation isn¡¯t fair, but that¡¯s the thing with anger. It¡¯s not rational.


    ¡°Hopefully he won¡¯t have to be told at all,¡± I say, searching for my phone in my pocket. ¡°Albert will sign the deal, all will be done, and then¡­¡±


    ¡°And then what? Will we have a polite and amicable split?¡±


    I nce from my phone-forty-five unread emails have already cluttered up my inbox. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. Polite and amicable.¡±


    She nods. The ends of her hair, still wet, have left a wet spot on her red dress. My eyes linger on it longer than I should, and she frowns when she catches me looking. ¡°I figured I didn¡¯t have time to blow-dry it.¡±


    ¡°Good thinking.¡± I slide my phone back into my pocket. ¡°I¡¯ll order a cab for us each. Are you headed home?¡±


    ¡°I am, yeah.¡±


    I slide an arm around her waist and press my lips to her forehead. Not all sex is equal, and hotel sex is the pinnacle, but that¡­ that had been amazing. ¡°Thanks forst night,¡± I say. ¡°It was more than interesting, Maddie, and you are more than interesting.¡±


    There¡¯s a teasing smile in her voice. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I quite believe you.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I ask. ¡°Do you need another demonstration?¡±


    Grinning, she slips out from my arm and backs away toward a waiting cab. ¡°Yes. Two nights from now, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°Oh, sweetheart! You¡¯re going to do so well!¡± My mom¡¯s voice is cheerful on the phone, if a bit echoey. My parents are big fans of using the speakerphone function.


    ¡°Do you want us toe up and taste the food?¡± Dad asks. ¡°The dishes you¡¯re nning on serving the judges?¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Dad, you say everything I cook tastes good.¡±


    ¡°Because it does!¡±


    ¡°Sure, but everything, Dad?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t lied. Not once.¡±


    ¡°You also haven¡¯t been very constructive,¡± I say, but I¡¯m grinning as I tuck my phone under my ear. ¡°I was thinking abouting home the weekend after. Would that work?¡±


    ¡°Of course it works. You¡¯re always wee.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re always here,¡± Dad interjects.


    ¡°Awesome.¡± Clearing my throat, I don¡¯t give myself time to consider my next words. ¡°Guess what? I bumped into Liam Carter the other day.¡±


    ¡°Liam? From next door? That¡¯s lovely! How was he?¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°His brother has been doing so well,¡± Dad adds.


    ¡°Oh yes. We read about Ethan in the newspaper just the other day. How is he?¡±


    ¡°I spoke to Liam, Mom, not Ethan.¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s back in Seattle for work. He works as an investor, actually.¡±


    ¡°Like a banker?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I pop the phone to my other ear and start to wipe down the kitchen counter. I¡¯d just tried-and failed-to perfect one of my recipes. For some reason, I just couldn¡¯t get the tartness in the sauce right. ¡°He¡¯s working for his brother now.¡±


    ¡°Imagine that,¡± Mom says. ¡°And was he good-looking?¡±


    Myughter is tinged with just a hint of hysteria. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s grown into his looks.¡±


    ¡°Fine boy,¡± my dadments. ¡°You said he¡¯s working for Ethan?¡±


    ¡°Sure is.¡± I sit back on one of the kitchen chairs. My dad grumbles something on the phone that sounds like let me find something.


    My parents have never been shy about being proud of Ethan. Without a father of their own, and with Liam being my best friend, both boys were often in our house as I grew up. How could they not be? We shared a hedge.


    ¡°Porter, Park and Carter? Is that the name of the investment firm?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°Your dad has just googled on his iPad,¡± Mom informs me. ¡°He¡¯s gotten very good at it.¡±


    I smile, despite myself. It had been his Christmas gift. ¡°Are you getting tech-savvy in your old age, Dad?¡±


    He harrumphs. ¡°They¡¯ve been mentioned in a newspaper. Several times, actually. And the Wall Street Journal¡­ Wow, Judy, take a look at this.¡±


    I frown. ¡°What did you find, Dad?¡±


    ¡°Thepany¡¯s investments are in the billions. And you said Liam worked there?¡±


    I clear my suddenly dry throat. ¡°He¡¯s the lead investor, yeah. I kinda think he¡¯s the one running the show, and the others are members of the board.¡±


    There¡¯s a brief silence on the other end of the line. ¡°Would you look at that,¡± my father says, the pride clear in his voice. ¡°Two of them in the same family.¡±


    I¡¯m struck by something quite simr, right beneath my breastbone. ¡°Must be gic.¡±


    After we¡¯ve hung up, the number stays seared into my brain, prompting me to do a bit of digging online.


    The sums are staggering. Even more staggering is the idea that Liam is in charge of all of this-that his decisions can influence whether they lose or make millions upon millions of dors.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 45

    And he carries that on his shoulders every minute of every day.


    My eyes nce down to the ring on my left finger. He¡¯d forgotten to ask for it back for safekeeping after we said goodbye outside the hotel, and I¡¯d forgotten to give it to him.


    It winks at me under my kitchen light, a brilliant piece of magic amidst the mundane.


    The memory of his hand on my left one, guiding it between my legs as he touched my engagement ring.


    Touch yourself with this hand.


    And he¡¯d watched as I¡¯d done it.


    My body heats up at the memory. One night with Liam Carter, yboy extraordinaire and suave investor.


    And a night with green-eyed Liam, the boy I¡¯d had a crush on my entire childhood. I reach for my phone and don¡¯t think, don¡¯t consider, before I write him a text.


    Madison: I think I might go into the fake fianc¨¦ business. If I do, can I count on your rmendation?


    His response is almost instantaneous, the dots appearing before I¡¯ve put my phone down.


    Liam: No, you¡¯re a trade secret. I can¡¯t have you booked up for months.


    Madison: Oh? Does this mean you¡¯re considering seeking my services again?


    Liam: Given how brilliant having you by my side has been for business these past few weeks, I just might.


    Madison: If my restaurant dreams fail, I think I have a future in fake rtionships.


    Liam: As if, though. I still think about the duck you made.


    Madison: You do?


    Liam: Do you want to know what I had for lunch today?


    Madison: I¡¯m riveted.


    Liam: The ham and cheese sandwich from the deli on my street. Like I had yesterday. And the day before that. And every other day, actually, this month.


    Madison: Please tell me you¡¯re kidding right now.


    Liam: I¡¯m dead serious.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    Madison: There is so SO MUCH good food in Seattle! How??


    Liam: Time is money, and money can get you home-delivered burgers and sandwiches to eat while you work.


    Madison: Excuse me while I faint in horror.


    Liam: Have I found the one surefire way to insult a chef?


    Madison: That, and telling me I use too much tarragon. I don¡¯t use too much tarragon.


    Liam: You will never hear that from me.


    Madison: Every day, Liam? Every day?


    Liam: Every day.


    Madison: Dear Lord, don¡¯t tell me you do the same thing for dinner too.


    Liam: Would you cut contact with me if I said yes to that question?


    Madison: I¡¯m considering it, yeah.


    Liam: You know what this means.


    Madison: That you¡¯re suffering from high cholesterol?


    Liam: Funny. No, it means you should take pity on me ande over to use my kitchen again. It¡¯s been feeling lonely since you left.


    Madison: No, not the stainless kitchen! Not the six-te stove!


    Liam: The very one. It was weeping the other day. I had to get a plumber toe and look at the sink.


    Madison: As it so happens, I am free tonight, and I still have to perfect my recipes.


    Liam: Just my luck.


    Madison: I warn you, though. I cook best when I havepany in the kitchen.


    Liam: That can be arranged. You look hot when you¡¯re wielding a knife.


    Madison: That¡¯s a dangerous fetish there, Carter. Sure you don¡¯t need to talk to someone?


    Liam: No. I just need you in an apron, and nothing else, chopping carrots.


    Madison: Carrots? I think Freud would have a field day with that. Any more weird fantasies you want to share?


    Liam: Look, I¡¯mmitting to the idea of giving you really fucking interesting sex, and I¡¯mmitting hard.


    Madison: Wow. Yourmitment is noted and appreciated.


    Liam: Thank you.


    Madison: I¡¯lle over in a bit, then. You¡¯re not allergic to anything, are you?


    Liam: Mediocrity. But food-wise, no.


    Madison: Remind me why we ever stopped being friends?

 Billion Dollar Fiance 46

    Liam: The fuck if I know, Maddie. The fuck if I know.


    My heart is pounding so hard that I fear it might break through my chest in its struggle. The sheets underneath me stick to my damp skin.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I breathe. ¡°Your kitchen wasn¡¯t the only thing that felt lonely.¡±


    Liam chuckles at my side, tucking an arm underneath his head. ¡°I told you, I¡¯mmitted to making this as interesting for you as I can. Consider yourself a challenge, and I¡¯m determined to win.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m all for you winning,¡± I say. ¡°It feels an awful lot like I¡¯m winning, too.¡±


    He props himself up against the headboard. Thick hair falls over his forehead. ¡°You¡¯d never had sex in that position before, had you?¡±


    ¡°Was it that obvious?¡±


    His grin widens. ¡°Just a tad.¡±


    I run a hand over my thighs. ¡°It felt like I got a really good stretch, too.¡±


    ¡°Well, I like to provide an array of health benefits beyond the simple orgasm,¡± he says. ¡°We can do it on a treadmill the next time for even greater effect.¡±


    I turn over on my stomach, my head in my hands. ¡°Multitasking. I like it.¡±


    Liam raises an eyebrow. ¡°Think of the things you could get done and have sex at the same time.¡±


    ¡°Watching TV.¡±


    ¡°Working.¡±


    ¡°Doing your taxes.¡±


    ¡°Cooking.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Ouch, but¡­ yes.¡±


    Our eyes meet inbined amusement, and a smile spreads across my face. He echoes it.


    ¡°I never thought we¡¯d end up here.¡±


    ¡°Hey, me neither,¡± I say. ¡°One day, you were someone from my past I thought fondly of. The next thing I know, I¡¯m bent over a bed in a hotel room.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes sh with satisfaction. ¡°And what a sight you were.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember when your mother sat us down to discuss the birds and the bees?¡±


    Liam groans, resting his head against the headboard. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me. Worst day of my life.¡±


    ¡°Hands-down the most elegant bohemian I¡¯ve ever met,¡± I say. ¡°Your mother, I mean.¡±


    ¡°I figured you weren¡¯t referring to me.¡±


    I reach for one of his pillows and prop it up beneath my head. ¡°Remember when she told us that if we had an urge to explore with each other, that was okay, as long as wemunicated enough?¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    Liam closes his eyes. ¡°I wanted to kill her in that moment.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°My mind just went nk. My mother had beat her to it, regarding the¡­ mechanics of it all, but she hadn¡¯t gone into as much detail about pleasure and consent as your mom did.¡±


    Liam cracks open one eye. ¡°We fought about it afterwards.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡±


    ¡°Howe?¡±


    ¡°Because I was furious she decided to have that conversation with me when a pretty girl was over.¡± Liam reaches out and catches a strand of my hair, dark through his fingers. ¡°I was sure you¡¯d never ¡®explore¡¯ with me after she pointed it out like that.¡±


    Pretty girl. I¡¯d had a crush on him back then, and I¡¯d admitted it.


    Had he¡­?


    I wet my lips. ¡°It was pre-emptive, at least. We are exploring with each other now.¡±


    Liam¡¯s mouth curves into a smirk. ¡°She¡¯s often right in the end, I¡¯ll give her that.¡±


    My eyes fall to his lips, and further down still, to the expanse of his chest. ¡°A part of me thinks it¡¯s a shame we didn¡¯t explore more when we were teenagers. Or¡­ perhaps just that you moved away when you did.¡±


    ¡°I might agree with that.¡±


    My smile widens. ¡°Are you telling me that you might, asionally, have had a crush on me too?¡±


    ¡°Are you going to force me to admit it?¡±


    ¡°I knew it!¡±


    Liam reaches for me, flipping me over so I¡¯m pinned beneath him, his leg between mine. ¡°It¡¯s rude to hit a man where it hurts.¡±


    Laughter makes my chest ache. ¡°Howe you never told me?¡±


    ¡°You never told me,¡± he points out.


    ¡°We might not have had our crushes at the same time.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± He lowers his head to my neck, pressing a kiss to the spot beneath my ear. I wrap my arms around his shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure they were at the same time.¡±


    ¡°How would you know?¡± I arch my back, my nipples hardening against his hair-roughened chest.


    ¡°Because mine was pretty much constant.¡±


    My hands tighten on his back. If Liam senses my surprise, he doesn¡¯t show it, lips trailing down my corbone.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 47

    ¡°And you never let on,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°You kissed my brother.¡± Liam¡¯s voice is muffled against my skin, his head still bowed. ¡°Of course I didn¡¯t tell you.¡±


    If I¡¯d been shocked before, it¡¯s nothing to what I am now. Something that I so rarely thought about-the kiss behind the hedge, Ethan¡¯s voice businesslike throughout-had influenced Liam¡¯s behavior?


    ¡°I know I¡¯m arguing semantics here, but it¡¯s really more urate to say that he kissed me.¡±


    Liam snorts, sitting up between my legs. A simple look down shows what I¡¯d already felt against my thigh-he¡¯s hard again. ¡°I know. But I was eleven and unreasonable.¡±


    I reach down, wrapping my fingers around him. Liam closes his eyes as my hand strokes. ¡°It didn¡¯t mean anything,¡± I murmur. ¡°And if I could go back, you¡¯re the one I would have kissed.¡±


    The skin under my fingers is so soft, the hardness beneath like steel. I run my thumb over the head and his hips buck into my hand.


    ¡°I want you inside me.¡±


    Liam reaches for a condom, his eyes on mine as he rolls it on. We both moan as he pushes inside, the deliciously full feeling spreading through my lower body like water through sand.


    I hold on to him as he carries us both past the point of no return. It isn¡¯t until after, when he pulls me against his side, that we speak again.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for that.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡±


    His hand settles at my waist, smoothing up the curve of my hip. ¡°It was just in missionary.¡±


    I smile against his shoulder. His skin smells good, like man and soap and faint sweat. ¡°I¡¯m not about to file aint.¡±


    ¡°Thank God.¡±


    I sling my arm over his chest and close my eyes. It feels perfect like this, when it¡¯s just the two of us and no expectations or pressure.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you something,¡± Liam says.


    I raise myself up on an elbow. ¡°Hit me.¡±


    ¡°What do you think a four-year-old girl would want as a birthday gift?¡±


    I snort. ¡°You¡¯ve been meaning to ask me? Because I¡¯m a four-year-old girl?¡±


    Liam reaches over to flick me on the nose. ¡°You¡¯ve been one. I have not.¡±


    ¡°One of your nieces?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s her birthday party on Saturday.¡± He runs a hand over his face, like this is the biggest challenge he¡¯s ever faced. ¡°My brother already gives his kids whatever they want, so he has no advice to offer.¡±


    ¡°Well, what does she like?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Liam,¡± I say, reaching over to p him on the shoulder.


    ¡°I know, I know. I¡¯m a bad uncle.¡±


    I smooth my fingers over the skin I¡¯d just yfully attacked. My hand can¡¯t help itself, it seems. ¡°How often do you see them?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t exactly run down their door. Ethan and I see each other more often now, but that¡¯s because we work together.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± I reach past him to our winesses, half-forgotten on his bedside table. The bed isrge enough that I have to stretch. ¡°Hey, that reminds me-I told my parents about you, by the way.¡±


    ¡°You did what?¡±


    I sit next to him, leaning against the headboard. ¡°I didn¡¯t give them the full lurid tale.¡±


    ¡°Good thing, or Mr. and Mrs. Webb would be breaking and entering this apartment right now.¡±


    ¡°They would do no such thing, even if they knew.¡±


    Liam raises an eyebrow. ¡°Are you sure about that? Because you¡¯re the apple of their eye.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°The banana of their heart,¡± he continues, his hand walking up my bare thigh. ¡°The pear of their ear.¡±


    Iugh, clutching the winess in both hands to keep it from trembling. It¡¯s been years since I¡¯ve seen the silly side of Liam-and it¡¯s miles from the man who¡¯d walked into the woods to hunt with Albert Walker.


    ¡°What have you been drinking?¡±


    ¡°The same wine as you,¡± he informs me. ¡°What did you tell them?¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°That we bumped into one another. They were really intrigued to hear you work as an investor.¡±


    ¡°They were?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I wasn¡¯t being sarcastic.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°Dad even searched you on the inte while we were speaking.¡±


    ¡°He did?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. He was mightily impressed, and not a little proud, I think.¡±


    Liam leans his head back against the headboard, his hand curved around my thigh. ¡°Would you look at that,¡± he says.


    ¡°He also informed me about the sheer amount of money that Carter, Park and Porter invests.¡±


    A twitch of his lips. ¡°Porter, Park and Carter,¡± he corrects me.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 48

    ¡°That¡¯s not alphabetical order.¡±


    ¡°No, but it¡¯s the order they agreed on.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I think it sounds better when Carter is first.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure my brother agrees with you,¡± Liam says, taking a sip of his wine. ¡°So you read about the numbers, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The crook of his eyebrow makes me wonder if I¡¯m heading in the wrong direction, but it¡¯s Liam. It¡¯s my Liam, who once had a poster of the Terminator on his bedroom wall. ¡°Honestly, Liam¡­ how do you do it?¡±


    His eyebrows shoot high. ¡°How do I do what?¡±


    ¡°Manage all that money? Isn¡¯t it the most stressful thing ever?¡±


    ¡°Stressful,¡± he says, like he¡¯s tasting the word. ¡°Yeah, it can be that.¡±


    ¡°I mean, one wrong investment and you lose money, right? For thepany?¡±


    He nods. ¡°Yes. But one good investment, and I make money for thepany.¡±


    ¡°But in this case, it¡¯s not just anypany-it¡¯s three people. And they¡¯ve entrusted you with their fortunes.¡±


    His lips curve into a smile. ¡°Fractions of their fortunes, Maddie. Practically nothing but shavings on top of an iceberg.¡±


    My mind can¡¯t reallyprehend that staggering fact, so I breeze past it. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it get¡­ too much sometimes? The responsibility?¡±


    Liam shrugs. ¡°Rarely.¡±


    ¡°Come on, I know you. I know you¡¯re obsessive at heart, andpetitive. I refuse to believe that it doesn¡¯t affect you.¡±


    ¡°Of course this is the fact you¡¯d hone in on.¡± He waggles his eyebrows at me. ¡°Are you impressed?¡±


    He¡¯s trying to get a rise out of me, and a part of me wants to respond no, just to tease. But the truth slips out instead.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I know I¡¯m not alwaysfortable with the responsibility of cooking a guest¡¯s food, and that¡¯s only one person I can disappoint-and it¡¯s only a meal.¡±


    Liam drains thest of his wine, putting the ss back on his bedside table. ¡°It gets pretty fucking hairy sometimes,¡± he admits.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ like walking a tightrope. It¡¯s a high-stakes game, and at any moment, you might tumble and fall. Doesn¡¯t matter how many safetys I put in either, because they could all fail too.¡±


    His hands begin to move. They¡¯re broad over the backs, fingers long. ¡°You know I love numbers. And it¡¯s all calctions. Percentages. Eventualities. Odds.¡±


    I nod, thinking back to when he¡¯d helped with my math homework. He himself had only ever had trouble with one thing-not showing his work.


    ¡°This is the same thing, but it¡¯s all real-world. Realpanies. It¡¯s the best game I¡¯ve ever yed.¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°But it¡¯s not a game.¡±


    ¡°Oh, everything in life is a game, Maddie. And everything can be won.¡±


    Grabbing hisforter, I drape it across myself, shivering despite the heat. He tracks the movement and drapes an arm around my shoulder. ¡°But what you do? That would make me legitimately nervous.¡±N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    ¡°What I do?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Having a guestin because I identally undercooked something.¡± He gives a violent mock shiver. ¡°Terrifying.¡±


    ¡°It can be,¡± I admit. ¡°Even worse if the chef on duty is an asshole about it, too.¡±


    His hand tightens on my shoulder. ¡°Can they be?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes.¡± I finish thest of my wine and he takes the ss from me, joining his on the bedside table. ¡°A kitchen is a bit like a ship.¡±


    Liam raises his eyebrow. ¡°You have me intrigued now. Are there pirates? Treasure to plunder?¡±


    ¡°Oh, there are pirates a plenty. And if you have a bad captain, or poor crewmates, the ship isn¡¯t going to go very fast. Worse still if you hit a storm.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± Liam says. ¡°Hit me with your war stories.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re ready? It involves carnage.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m even more intrigued now. This sounds like an HBO show in the making.¡±


    ¡°I was neen and working my first kitchen. Part-time, I might add, as I had culinary school at the same time. Our chef had just been put on eight weeks of bedrest for a routine surgery¡­ and the recement was this batshit crazy sous chef they¡¯d sourced from out of state. This guy thought he was Gordon Ramsey-but only they yelling and swearing part, not the actually-good-at-his-job part.¡±


    ¡°Shit.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯de to work and ask what my task was, and he¡¯d yell at me that it was prepping, it was always prepping, and was I stupid?¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°Fuck. Can he do that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, this was just a normal Tuesday! I¡¯ve been called far worse in a kitchen.¡± I shake my head. ¡°The next day I don¡¯t ask, and then he yells at me for prepping and not asking him first.¡±


    ¡°The guy¡¯s impossible to please.¡±


    ¡°Impossible,¡± I agree. ¡°Anyway, so we had a particrly bad Friday night service. I¡¯m cooking sides, and I¡¯m already nervous as all hell, because I¡¯m not that experienced yet.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Liam agrees. ¡°And you have this asshole breathing down your neck.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Now, our dishwasher identally drops a few tes, and he cusses her out so bad that she runs out crying. Quits on the spot.¡±


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Liam says. ¡°He made her walk the nk.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re down one person now. And if you¡¯ve ever tried working a kitchen without having a dishwasher¡­ well, it¡¯s a catastrophe waiting to happen. Then the guy working the pizza oven calls in sick-now we¡¯re down two.¡±


    ¡°Rats abandoning the ship,¡± Liam says.


    I snort. ¡°We¡¯re really getting a lot of mileage out of this metaphor, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re thrifty like that. So what happened next?¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 49

    ¡°He yells at me to cover the ck. So now I¡¯m working two stations, and I¡¯m not doing either particrly well. Orders keeping in, and Chef¡¯s losing it. The man couldn¡¯t keep a cool head if it was snowing inside.¡±


    ¡°On deck,¡± Liam corrects.


    ¡°On deck,¡± I agree. ¡°Anyway, then I manage to slide a boning knife through my hand.¡±


    ¡°Right here,¡± I say, lifting up one of my hands. ¡°Between these two tendons. It went straight through and into the cutting board on the other side.¡±


    Liam goes white underneath the tan of his skin, but the fingers gripping my hand are steady. The scar is faint and white-unremarkable now. ¡°Fuck, Maddie.¡±


    ¡°I tell him that I¡¯m sorry, Chef, but I really think I need to go to the hospital. It¡¯s not just a minor cut.¡±


    Liam¡¯s fingers tighten around mine. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me he made you keep working.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course he did. Told me I was being a pussy and to suck it up. We actually put glue on my hand and wrapped it in gauze from the first-aid kit.¡±


    ¡°The fucking bastard.¡±


    ¡°The fucking pirate,¡± I tease, wrapping my fingers around his. ¡°I finished the shift like that, and when it came time to get my pay-yes, this might have been an under-the-table kind of thing-he only gave me half.¡±


    ¡°He what?¡±


    ¡°Considering I was only working one-handed, as he said.¡± I snort. ¡°Like a real pirate.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes are murderous. ¡°Tell me you¡¯re making that up.¡±


    ¡°My imagination is good, but it¡¯s not that good.¡± I shrug. ¡°I went to the hospital the next day. Turned out all I needed was disinfectant and more gauze-didn¡¯t even need stitches. But they frowned at the whole superglue thing.¡±


    ¡°One wonders why,¡± Liam murmurs. ¡°Christ, Maddie.¡±


    ¡°I never went back to that restaurant again. Didn¡¯t even get a reference.¡±


    His hands tighten around mine. ¡°That¡¯s not amon urrence, is it?¡±


    ¡°Asshole chefs? Or slicing through your hand?¡±


    ¡°Both. Either.¡±


    ¡°Both aremon,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s one of the reasons why I love my job at Marco¡¯s. His kitchen runs like a smoothly oiled engine.¡±


    Liam grimaces. ¡°We were on the seas.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry. I was getting into deep water there.¡±


    ¡°Much better,¡± he says. ¡°My head was swimming with the mixed metaphors.¡±


    My hands curl around his shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed. He falls against the linen with a smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to board you.¡±


    His smile widens. ¡°Are you now?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I straddle him, his skin hot against mine. ¡°Which means you have two choices. Fight or surrender, but either way, I¡¯m going to plunder your bounty.¡±


    ¡°Wait a second.¡± He reaches up and fits one of his hands over my left eye, making me one-eyed. ¡°There,¡± he says. ¡°Now you¡¯re more believable.¡±


    ¡°I should have a sword, too,¡± I say. ¡°Perhaps a saber?¡±


    Liam¡¯s smile turns crooked, his hips bucking underneath mine. ¡°I think I have the sword in this scenario.¡±


    He pulls me down to kiss me, and I lose track of metaphors and stories and old scars, losing myself in him.


    It¡¯s a while until he speaks again, but when he does, it¡¯s to murmur a statement. ¡°My niece¡¯s birthday party would be far more bearable if you came with me.¡±


    ¡°But then your brother would find out about this little charade.¡±


    ¡°At the moment,¡± Liam says, hands gripping my hips, ¡°that doesn¡¯t seem like such a bad thing.¡±


    I run my nails down his chest. ¡°I can¡¯t, in any case.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a hot date?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, just to see his expression, the rising eyebrows and darkening gaze.


    ¡°Maddie¡­¡±


    ¡°A hot date with the food shelter on Forty-eighth.¡±


    He groans. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Can you stop being so good? If I had a conscience, it would be smarting right now.¡±


    I shriek when he flips us over, settling between my legs and bending his head to my nipple. My fingers slide through his hair. ¡°Good thing you don¡¯t, then.¡±


    Hisughter is rough, and then we stop talking altogether, both of us lost in an ocean of sensation.


    My brother¡¯s house in Greenwood Hills, with its neatly trimmed hedge and high wrought-iron fence, usually only conveys one thing. Domesticity.


    Today, the pink balloons tied to the gate tell a different story.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    Evie¡¯s turning four, and judging by the cars parked all along the street, my brother has gone all in.


    My phone vibrates in my hand with a text.


    Madison: What did you settle on?


    Liam: I got her a reallyrge stuffed unicorn.


    Madison: Define reallyrge.


    Liam: Currently-upying-my-entire-backseatrge.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 50

    Madison: Wow.


    Liam: It even has a removable saddle and bridle. Question: do you ride unicorns? Isn¡¯t that sacrilege?


    Madison: Good point. But considering they¡¯re not real, I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯ll be offended. The unicorn sure won¡¯t be.This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    Liam: I got her something else, too. Remember when we used to race across town to y on the pinball machine?


    Madison: Oh, I remember. You always stole my quarters.


    Liam: I would never do such a thing.


    Madison: Sure you wouldn¡¯t. So you got her a pinball machine?


    Liam: A miniature one. I saw it in the toy store.


    It had been an impulse buy, one driven by memories and the image of Maddie smiling in my head, her eyes glittering with challenge.


    Madison: I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll love it. You¡¯ll have to tell me what her reaction is.


    I should put my phone down. I should go inside, to brightly colored cupcakes and little girl hugs and discussions about stocks with my brother. But my fingers won¡¯t let me, glued to the phone and the conversation with her name on the top.


    Liam: Have you started your shift yet?


    Madison: You mean, am I texting you while I¡¯m cooking? No, I¡¯m not, so I haven¡¯t.


    Liam: Oh, snarky. I like it when you get feisty with me.


    Madison: I know you do. Perhaps that¡¯s why I do it.


    Liam: And you know I like it when you try to impress me, too.


    There¡¯s a pause before she replies, and I grin down at my phone. Yesterday, she¡¯d dered she wanted to give me the best blow job I¡¯d ever had, saying she had techniques she¡¯d always wanted to try.


    I¡¯d said bring it on.


    I don¡¯t know what pleased me more, the sensation of her mouth around my dick or that she wasfortable enough to explore things she¡¯d always wanted to.


    Madison: Great. Now my skin is on fire and I have to go out into the kitchen in five minutes.


    Liam: Serves you right for being so talented with your mouth and living like a modern-day Mother Teresa. How are you theplete package?


    Madison: Cooking at the shelter once a month is hardly record-breaking.


    But still damn impressive. It also made clear what I already knew, which is that Maddie is a far better person than I am.


    Liam: Whatever you say, Gandhi.


    Madison: Gotta go. Enjoy the party, eat a cupcake for me, and please film your niece¡¯s reaction to the gifts. I wanna see itter.


    I read the text twice, something in my chest squeezing at the sweet words. Responses rise to my fingertips. Simr wishes for her, see youters and take cares. But in the end I settle for something simple, but effective.


    Something from the heart.


    Liam: Please be careful with knives.


    There.


    Grinning, I coax the giant unicorn out of my car. It¡¯s not well-behaved, the floppy limbs getting caught in between the seats and the horn poking me in the side.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± I say. ¡°I can empathize with the problem, but get a grip, man.¡±


    The unicorn doesn¡¯t respond. Shouldering the giant white plushy under one arm and the wrapped pinball machine under the other, I make my way into the den of children like a hero set to face a deadly horde of zombies.


    But the ce is curiously calm when I enter, the living room empty and the doors to the backyard wide open.


    My brother¡¯s housekeeper is the first to see me. She gives me a wide smile when she sees the unicorn.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t missed it, have I?¡±


    Maria shakes her head. ¡°Everyone is outdoors.¡±


    ¡°Another bouncy castle?¡±


    ¡°Two, this time.¡±


    I shake my head, leaning against the kitchen counter. ¡°My brother really has no boundaries with those girls.¡±


    Maria¡¯s smile turns indulgent. ¡°They¡¯re good girls, Mr. Carter. And Evie will be ecstatic when she sees that horse, just you wait.¡±


    ¡°Ethan might not be,¡± I say. ¡°This¡¯ll take up half the space in her room.¡±


    ¡°She has space,¡± Maria says.


    I suppose that¡¯s true. Ethan¡¯s kids are growing up very differently to how we were raised, in a two-story house with one bathroom shared between the three of us.


    Is that something he reflects on?


    ¡°No, Clover! Stop!¡± A cocker spanieles running into the kitchen, a familiar girl right on his heels.


    The dog bounces up and down at my feet, tail wagging. ¡°Hey there,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry, I can¡¯t pet you right now. My hands are busy.¡±


    Clover doesn¡¯t seem to care, and neither does Haven, wrapping her arms around my legs. ¡°Uncle Liam!¡±


    ¡°Hey, kiddo. Have you been good?¡±


    ¡°Really good.¡±


    ¡°But not too good, right?¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 51

    ¡°No.¡± She rocks back on her heels and gives me a wide, gap-toothed smile. ¡°I tried the thing you showed me, with putting tape underneath the faucet. Daddy got water all over his shirt.¡±


    I grin. ¡°Excellent job, kid. High five.¡±


    She touches her tiny palm to mine. ¡°He told me you used to do that a lot on him when you two were small.¡±


    ¡°We did.¡± That and much worse, but I¡¯m saving those pranks for when she gets older. ¡°Where are your siblings?¡±


    ¡°Be¡¯s upstairs with Lucas, because he was screaming a lot. Daddy¡¯s outside with Evie. Come on, there¡¯s cake!¡±


    I follow her into the yard, half-full with kids in brightly colored T-shirts running from bouncy castle to bouncy castle.


    Clover immediately leaves us to do ap around the yard, his long ears pping. The dog is spoiled beyond belief.


    Evie spots me andes bounding over with her pigtails flying. I let the presents drop and scoop her up, spinning her around.


    ¡°Christ, kid. You¡¯re getting big.¡±


    ¡°Four,¡± she informs me. ¡°I¡¯m four years big.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you most certainly are.¡±


    ¡°Unicorn!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for you.¡± I set her down and she throws herself on the plushy. It¡¯ll probably have a few beautiful grass stains after this. ¡°Happy birthday.¡±


    My brother appears, handing me a ss of something that looks suspiciously like lemonade. ¡°You made it,¡± he says.


    ¡°Of course I did. Wasn¡¯t about to miss this rascal¡¯s milestone.¡± I reach down to tug at one of Evie¡¯s pigtails, and she shoots me a grin. ¡°What are you going to name him?¡±


    Her face screws up with determined concentration. ¡°Lady,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Lady Sparkle.


    Both Ethan and I chuckle at that. ¡°That¡¯s a very good name,¡± I say. Evie turns around, calling a few of her friends over to inspect it.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    I rest the pinball machine against my leg. ¡°Two bouncy castles?¡±


    ¡°Had to topst year,¡± Ethan says. We both watch as Cloveres bounding past us with a hot dog between his jaws, a thief on the run, straight from the grill.


    ¡°Damn dog,¡± Ethan mutters. ¡°I spend half-an-hour training him only to have it all undone when Evie tosses him a meatball from the dining-room table.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°He¡¯s also not the smartest dog in the kennel.¡±


    ¡°No, he most certainly isn¡¯t.¡± But Ethan¡¯s voice has an undercurrent of fondness, just like it always has when he discusses his children, wife, and home. As much as I¡¯ve teased him about it, there¡¯s no mistaking the quiet contentedness that radiates from him like aforting cologne.


    ¡°Closed the Walker deal a few days ago. Signed andpleted.¡±


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you managed that,¡± Ethan says. ¡°When Nick brought up the idea, I told him there was no way the old man would let us in as investors-not even if you ran point.¡±


    My lips curl into a crooked smile. ¡°Proved you wrong, there.¡±


    ¡°You sure did. I expect the news will go off like a bomb in certain circles when it bes official, though.¡±


    ¡°All the investors he¡¯s turned down before us?¡±


    ¡°The very ones,¡± Ethan confirms. He clears his throat, turning so we¡¯re standing side by side. His voice lowers. ¡°I heard something along the grapevine.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to talk to you about that.¡±


    A brief pause. ¡°So it¡¯s actually true?¡±


    ¡°In some ways yes, in some ways no.¡±


    ¡°Just to make this clear-we are talking about you being engaged? To be married?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the kind of engaged we¡¯re talking about, yeah.¡± My fingers tighten around the lemonade ss. This would have been a good time to borrow some divinity and turn it into wine. ¡°But it¡¯s a brief arrangement. You see, Albert Walker made it clear that he didn¡¯t trust bankers, and particrly not me. I think the word yboy was used.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s voice is measured. ¡°So you found someone to y a fake girlfriend?¡±


    ¡°Fianc¨¦e, yes.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s supposed to make him think you¡¯re somehow more trustworthy?¡±


    I run a hand over my jaw and look out across the sea of children ying. ¡°I¡¯m not too proud to admit there are a few faults in the n.¡±


    ¡°Good God, Liam, you¡¯ve lost it. How could you go through with this?¡±


    ¡°You three told me you wanted Walker Steel, and in the next breath you told me it was impossible,¡± I mutter. ¡°How did you expect me to react?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t like that you¡¯ve made me an unwitting party to this.¡±


    ¡°If it all falls apart, I¡¯ll take the me for it,¡± I say. Just like I do with all investments, whether they¡¯ve gone awry or not. The tightrope I¡¯m walking shakes, ever so slightly.


    ¡°Let¡¯s pray he never finds out.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯ll be an amicable split between my fianc¨¦e and myself soon, no harm, no foul.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course,¡± Ethan says. His voice is thick with sarcasm. ¡°And what woman are you paying to agree to this scheme?¡±


    ¡°As a matter of fact-¡±


    ¡°Uncle Liam! What¡¯s this? Is it for me too? I didn¡¯t see it!¡± Evie is jumping by my feet, pigtails flying, as if she¡¯s giving me her best imitation of Clover.


    ¡°Yes, this for you too.¡± I hand her the wrapped miniature pinball machine. ¡°You might want to open it inside. Or not, you know. Tearing it open right here works too.¡±


    Ethan snorts, bending to help her with the ribbons. Her eyes are wide as she opens the package.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    I rub my neck. ¡°Your dad and I used to y these a lot when we were kids. I thought maybe you and Haven could do the same, when you¡¯re a bit older.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 52

    ¡°And Lucas?¡±


    ¡°And Lucas,¡± I confirm. ¡°But you¡¯ll have to give him a few years to catch up to you two.¡±


    She nods sagely, her hands stroking the hard stic case. Ethan looks up at me. ¡°A pinball machine?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Seemed like a cool idea.¡±


    ¡°No, it is,¡± he says, turning back to it. ¡°See here, Evie? You put your hands on either side, and you press to keep the ball from rolling. Uncle Liam and I can show youter.¡±


    Remembering my promise, I catch a quick picture of the two of them to show Maddieter. Evie sees it and gives me a giant smile.


    I grin back at her. ¡°Just wait till it¡¯s time to show you some pranks, too.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± says Ethan.


    ¡°Yay!¡± says Evie.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go and say hi to Mom,¡± I say. Escaping that dicey situation intact, I search the party for the familiar head of styled hair. I find her sitting in a sunchair next to a table of face paints, a lemonade in a cocktail ss in her hand.


    ¡°Hi, Mom.¡± I kiss her cheek. ¡°Have you been exposing all these kids to your painting?¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°A few. Did you see a girl with a butterfly on her face? Or a boy with a Spiderman mask?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t, no.¡±


    She sighs, patting the chair next to her. ¡°I asked one girl if she wanted something that was a bit Starry Night inspired, or perhaps M, but she chose a star.¡±


    ¡°She wouldn¡¯t have been able to sit still long enough for you to impersonate Van Gogh.¡± I cross an ankle over my knee. ¡°But good for you for trying.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mom says. ¡°And good for you foring out and about a bit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m out and about all the time.¡±


    She raises an eyebrow. ¡°See, you say that like you expect me to believe you. I know how hard you work. You and Ethan have always worked so much, from the time you were young. I have no idea who you¡¯ve gotten that from.¡±


    I grin at her. ¡°You don¡¯t see yourself reflected?¡±


    She grins right back at me, and despite the few added lines and wrinkles, she¡¯s every inch the fun-loving, unpredictable mother she¡¯d been twenty years ago when she¡¯d suggest breakfast for dinner and sleeping under the stars. ¡°Nope.¡±


    I nod to the drink in her hand. ¡°Did you manage to get something a bit stronger than lemonade?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. It¡¯s a kid¡¯s party.¡± She frowns down at her ss. ¡°Haven offered me this, calling it a fancy person¡¯s ss.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re a fancy person. That¡¯s apliment, Mom.¡±


    ¡°I suppose. But we¡¯re not done talking about you and finding a work-life bnce.¡±


    I groan. ¡°A lecture? At a four-year old¡¯s birthday party?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s never a bad time for a lecture.¡±


    ¡°I can think of many, many inopportune times.¡±


    Mom puts her hand on my leg. ¡°Look, Liam. All I¡¯m saying is that Ethan has gotten it right. He works, but he has a family toe home to. A wife toe home to. It doesn¡¯t have to look the same for you, but there has to be some kind of bnce. Find your off-switch.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say, ncing around at the colored streamers and the still-unsmashed pi?ata hanging from the girls¡¯ oak tree. The treehouse is decorated with balloons.


    Ethan achieving perfection, yet again.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find it,¡± Mom says. ¡°And I have no doubt that when you do, it¡¯ll be unique, just like you.¡±


    Trust Mom to turn a lecture into a pep talk. My mouth is open to respond when Haven joins us. ¡°I¡¯ve decided now,¡± she tells Mom.


    ¡°You have?¡±


    ¡°A butterfly, please.¡± She turns her cheek to my mom, who reaches for her paints.


    ¡°Coming right up.¡±


    Haven grins at me. ¡°Uncle Liam?¡±


    ¡°Yes, kiddo?¡±


    ¡°When are we getting cousins?¡±


    I blink at her. ¡°What?¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in my mother¡¯s voice. ¡°The girls have friends who have cousins. They asked me earlier why they don¡¯t have any. I exined to them that the power to change that is entirely in your hands.¡±


    I just look at her.


    ¡°Well,¡± she amends, ¡°not technically in your hands, but you know that.¡±


    Haven blinks at me like a honey-blonde angel. ¡°So?¡± she prompts. ¡°Cousins, please?¡±


    I drain thest of my lemonade, the sweet vor doing nothing to restore my bnce.


    ¡°Not anytime soon,¡± I manage. ¡°Sorry, kiddo.¡±


    Find my off-switch, indeed. And perhaps I have, at least temporarily, because when I make my way out of the giant house in Greenwood Hills that evening, the sun just beginning to set, my hands on the steering wheel don¡¯t take me back to the high-rise I¡¯m currently calling home.


    They lead me to a mid-rise outside the city instead. And when I press down on the inte, the familiar voice washes over me like a wave.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± I say. ¡°Can Ie up?¡±


    I don¡¯t know why my mind stirs itself awake, but it does, halfway through the night. My bedroom is cast in shadow and the bed empty next to me.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 53

    I search through the nkets, but no Liam. The fabric is still warm to the touch.


    I slide out of bed and reach for my robe, wrapping it tightly around my waist. Has he left?


    Why would he?


    He¡¯de over after his niece¡¯s birthday party, asking me if I¡¯d be willing to feed a starving man-and he¡¯d been starving in more ways than one.


    I find him on my couch, his shape silhouetted against the light from aptop screen. He¡¯s only wearing boxers, and the thick hair is still mussed from my hands.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep?¡±


    He nces over at me. ¡°Did I wake you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I climb onto the couch, sliding in behind him and the cushions. His skin is warm against me. ¡°Are you working?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± he says. His left hand grabs my ankle, pulling it tightly around him. ¡°Just wanted to monitor the markets.¡±


    ¡°Do you do that often?¡± My fingers trail a path down his back, across the skin-covered muscles. ¡°At night, I mean.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t reply right away. ¡°Most nights, yeah.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    I trace his shoulder des and he shivers under the touch. My head feels heavy with sleep and pleasure, satisfaction still thick in my body from the hours before.


    It feels like ages since I had a man¡¯s strong body all to myself, where the air between us is heavy with ease and my hands free to roam.


    He groans when I stroke up his sides. ¡°That tickles.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop, Christ. Just make your touch firmer.¡±


    Grinning, I return to my task, tracing the lines of his stomach and feeling it tighten under my touch. The only sound is that of our breathing and the asional touch on his keyboard.


    ¡°And how are the markets looking?¡±


    ¡°Stable,¡± he says. ¡°The American markets are closed, but the British and Japanese are both open.¡±


    I smooth my hands down his arms, perching my head on his shoulder. His screen looks like something out of a movie-all tiny numbers and arrows, rows and rows of numerical values.


    ¡°That would give me a headache,¡± I murmur. ¡°Staring at that screen for more than a minute.¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in his voice. ¡°You never did like math in school.¡±


    I pretend to shiver. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me.¡±


    His hand covers mine, long fingers curling. ¡°We can go back to bed in a minute.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I rest my head against his back and feel the steady, calm beat of his heart. ¡°I wonder why you work so much.¡±


    His snort reverberates through me. ¡°You¡¯re not the first person to ask me that today.¡±


    ¡°Ethan?¡±


    ¡°Christ, no. My mom.¡±


    I think of the picture he¡¯d showed me, of Ethan sitting next to a small, four-year-old birthday girl with a wide grin and a pinball machine in front of her. A tiny miniature version of Ethan and Liam, with the same green eyes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t work nearly as hard as you do,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re the one risking a knife through your hand every day.¡±


    ¡°Am I going to regret telling you that story?¡±


    ¡°Not if you promise to be careful.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not neen and untrained any longer,¡± I inform him. ¡°And I¡¯d rather take a minor cut than lose millions of dors in a day.¡±


    He wraps my other ankle around him as well, my body now tied around him like a backpack. My nipples harden against his back from the friction.


    I close my eyes. The warmth of him is a respite from days of worrying about the culinary fellowship final, the dishes, the recipes.


    Here in the darkness, it¡¯s just the two of us.


    ¡°Come on,¡± he says finally. ¡°Hold on.¡±


    I tighten my limbs just in time as he stands, pulling me up along with him. My ankles lock around his waist.


    ¡°Woah.¡±


    He snorts, heading into my bedroom. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I gave you a piggyback ride.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever?¡±


    ¡°I must¡¯ve, at some point.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± He sits down and I slide off him on the bed. ¡°We stopped hanging out after junior high.¡±


    Liam shakes his head. ¡°That was my fault.¡±


    ¡°Was it?¡±


    His hands smooth over my robe, undoing the tie with quick hands. He tosses it aside. The way he touches my skin confirms what he¡¯s already told me. Your body is incredible, Maddie. I always want you wrapped around me.


    ¡°Yes. I was an idiot.¡± He tugs me close, our bodies touching. ¡°I was obsessed with video games and fitting in at school. Not to mention I¡¯d gotten it into my head that you had a thing for Ethan.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I rise up on my elbow. ¡°All because of that kiss?¡±


    He pushes a hand through the thickness of his hair. ¡°Yeah. Like I said, I was an idiot.¡±


    ¡°You were,¡± I agree. ¡°But in all fairness, I don¡¯t think junior high is easy on guy-girl friendships.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 54

    ¡°No,¡± he says, ¡°it isn¡¯t.¡±


    People had asked me plenty of times if Liam and I were together. He must have gotten the same questions¡­ and eventually it got easier not to walk to school together in the mornings.


    His hand smooths up my back, soft strokes that make my skin feel like burnished silk.


    ¡°We signed Walker Steel a few days ago,¡± he says. ¡°It should be in the papers as soon as it gets official.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Plenty of people will wonder why Porter, Park and Carter were allowed to invest when others haven¡¯t been.¡±Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°And it¡¯s because of you,¡± I say.


    His chest rises under my hand as he takes a deep breath. ¡°And you. I¡¯m sorry you won¡¯t get any credit in the newspapers.¡±


    I snort. ¡°I don¡¯t want credit.¡±


    ¡°No, I know you don¡¯t. Which is probably why you deserve it more than most.¡±


    A thought strikes me. ¡°Is part of this about¡­ about Ethan?¡±


    ¡°Why you work so hard, I mean. Is it that you feel you have to¡­ prove something?¡±


    Liam doesn¡¯t answer right away. I can¡¯t make out his expression in the darkness, so I just listen to the sound of his quiet breathing.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way I canpete,¡± he says finally.


    I wet my lips. ¡°Is there apetition, though?¡±


    ¡°There always has been. My earliest memories are of running and trying to catch up with him, already far ahead of me.¡±


    ¡°Has he ever-¡±


    ¡°Made me feel like I have topete? Of course not. That¡¯s not Ethan¡¯s way.¡± Liam gives a lowugh, but it doesn¡¯t sound amused. ¡°He¡¯s perfect in most ways. The ideal son and brother, the daring entrepreneur and inspiring boss.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not perfect.¡±


    ¡°I know he¡¯s not. He knows he¡¯s not. Everyone else, it seems, doesn¡¯t.¡± Liam¡¯s voice is calm, measured. Like this is one of the naturalws of the universe.


    I press my palm against his breastbone, hard underneath the skin. Trying to reach his heart. ¡°You can¡¯t live your life in reaction to someone. You have to live it for someone.¡±


    Long fingers wrap around mine. ¡°And who do you live your life for?¡±


    ¡°Myself,¡± I murmur. ¡°My family. Mymunity. For someone else, one day, perhaps.¡±


    ¡°A man?¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but I don¡¯t know.¡± I rest my head against his neck, my lips touching against the skin. ¡°I think I¡¯m done living my life based on the dictates of a boyfriend.¡±


    Liam¡¯s hand tightens around my waist. ¡°Of course you are. You were never meant to be dictated to in the first ce.¡±


    I kiss his shoulder, smoothing my hand down his taut stomach. ¡°So you signed the Walker deal.¡±


    ¡°Does this mean I¡¯m out of business as a fake fianc¨¦e?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t-oh. Mmmm.¡± My hand is lower, teasing the flesh growing beneath my hand. ¡°I was meaning to ask you about that.¡±


    ¡°Were you?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a party on Thursday, at Cole¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say. ¡°Marco¡¯s is hired to cater.¡±


    Liam¡¯s voice is breathless. ¡°Figures.¡±


    I tighten my grip, the smooth, hard length of him moving slickly through my hand. I doubt I¡¯ll ever tire of it.


    ¡°It¡¯s the night before the culinary institute finals,¡± I say.


    His voice is hoarse. ¡°I¡¯m aware. It¡¯s a lot to ask, which is why I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t ask what?¡±


    ¡°That you apany me to the party.¡±


    ¡°Will Albert Walker be there?¡±


    ¡°He might, but it¡¯s not confirmed yet.¡± He turns his face to mine, hips bucking slightly. ¡°Lord, how are you so good at that?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve taught me what you like.¡± To emphasize my point, I twist my hand when I reach the swollen head. Liam curses against my cheek, making me smile. ¡°So you¡¯re asking me to go as your date?¡±


    His breathing quickens. ¡°You¡¯re going to make me define what we are while you literally have my balls in hand?¡±


    ¡°Seems as good a time as any,¡± I tease.


    He turns over in the darkness, but I don¡¯t let him go. He pushes my legs wide and kneels in the space between them.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, hands tightening on my thighs. ¡°I want you to apany me as my date. But only if you want to, and only if it won¡¯t interfere with your test the next day.¡±


    In the darkness, his face is cast in shadows, the muscled chest just a wall of man. But his voice is clear and sincere.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± I murmur, reaching up to twine my arms around his neck. ¡°Of course I will, Liam.¡±


    His kiss is deep, probing, as if it¡¯s not enough to have my words as confirmation. My fingers twine in his hair as if they¡¯re returning home, pulling him down on top of me.


    He might have called missionary uninteresting, but there¡¯s nothing I want more than his body on top of mine, bearing me down into the mattress.


    Liam feels the same way, apparently, because he pushes into me bare with a groan that tugs at the very fibers of my being. It¡¯s the second time we¡¯ve had sex this night, and like before, the second time is slower.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 55

    He braces his hands against my headboard and rolls his hips. Deep, earth-shattering thrusts that fill me up. That make it hard to see straight.


    I grip his shoulders and meet him stroke for stroke, the two of us challenging each other and responding to it in the same moment. Go as my date. The words ring in my head-not as a fake fianc¨¦e, nor a fake girlfriend.


    Not a fake anything.


    And when he shudders in my arms, his groan sounding like it¡¯s drawn from his very soul, I realize this is the truest thing I¡¯ve ever known.


    I always feel good after sex. Not just the minutes after, but the hours, even the days. It¡¯s not exactly rocket science. Hormones, release, sexual pleasure-it¡¯s all in there.


    So I don¡¯t question the giant fucking grin on my face as I drive home early that morning from Maddie¡¯s condo. It¡¯s not a mystery to trace it back to its source. My hands still carry the warmth of her skin, the sweetness of her smile, the perfect rounded shape of her tits. So yeah.


    I¡¯m grinning.


    And if I look over at a traffic light and grin at the dude in the car next to me-who could not have had as good of a night as I¡¯ve had-then so be it.


    But the grin doesn¡¯t fucking go away. I even smile and nod at the man who works behind the counter in my building, something I¡¯ve never done before.


    What¡¯s worse, when I finally sit down at my desk, I can¡¯t focus on my numbers.


    And I have always, always been able to focus on my numbers. Many people will say it¡¯s not tangible, what I do. But I¡¯ve never once forgotten that every single number on my screen represents real dors and realpanies.


    There¡¯s an email in my inbox from Dennis Walker, and I even grin when I read his dry-ass words and the thinly veiled insinuation that he didn¡¯t agree with his dad¡¯s decision. If it wasn¡¯t for their strict norms and rules, and my own big mouth, I wouldn¡¯t havee up with this whole fake fianc¨¦e thing.


    Which means I technically owe Albert Walker one.


    Not to mention Cole, for hiring Marco¡¯s in the first ce, or I wouldn¡¯t have bumped into Maddie again.


    Fuck, but I feel good.


    When it¡¯s time for lunch, I reach into the fridge for the sandwich Maddie had made me and packed into my bag.


    She¡¯d shrugged it off that morning, telling me that she was making one for herself anyway. It tastes divine.


    I should tell her.


    Liam: I hope you n to make the restaurant of your dreams entirely sandwich themed.


    Madison: I¡¯m guessing you enjoyed your lunch?


    Liam: Enjoyed is too mild a word. You saved me from another gut-wrenching choice of burger or steak for lunch.


    Madison: You eat like a caveman.


    Liam: I do. You¡¯re wee to rectify that, you know. I¡¯m always willing to eat sushi or ceviche off your naked body.


    Madison: Now I¡¯m imagining wasabi in ces where no wasabi should ever go.


    Liam: I¡¯d protect you.


    Madison: I also have a new favorite thing. Morning sex.


    Liam: It¡¯s surprisingly underrated.


    Madison: From here on out, I¡¯ll never disparage it again. It might even make my top three list.


    Liam: What are the other top cements?Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    Maddie: How about I show youter?


    Liam: Fuck. Now I¡¯m hard when I should be working.


    Madison: The markets wait for no one.


    Liam: When one closes, another opens. That¡¯s the good thing about money-it never sleeps.


    Madison: God, that¡¯s clich¨¦. You should be the star in another one of those Gordon Gecko movies.


    Liam: Confession: I once had a poster of him on my wall.


    Madison: You¡¯re lying.


    Liam: I wish I was. It was a joke from one of my co-workers when I was working the floor, and then I couldn¡¯t not hang it up, you know.


    Madison: You were dedicated to the joke. I get it. I respect it.


    Liam: Thank you. When do you start your shift?


    Madison: In less than fifteen. Wish me luck.


    Liam: Do you need it?


    But there¡¯s no response after that, and eventually I force my eyes away from the small screen of my phone to therger screen of myputer. Screens, screens, all day every day.


    It¡¯s nearly six in the evening when her name shes on my phone again, far earlier than I¡¯d expected.


    ¡°Maddie?¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡± Her voice is tight. ¡°Sorry to just call you like this.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡±


    A sigh. ¡°This is so embarrassing to admit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°I did actually cut myself today at work.¡±


    ¡°Not badly,¡± she adds. ¡°But I¡¯m in the emergency room. Just a quick check-up, I didn¡¯t need more than a few stitches.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 56

    ¡°You needed stitches?¡±


    ¡°Just three.¡±


    I push away from my desk, reaching for my jacket. ¡°Which hospital are you at?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have toe.¡±


    ¡°Which hospital?¡±


    She sighs again, telling me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, is all. I know I asked if I could cook at yours after work, to practice my recipes, but now I¡¯m free already.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re seriously nning on working after this?¡±


    ¡°The culinary institute finals are in five days!¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re hurt,¡± I tell her, like I¡¯m talking to my nieces. I¡¯m already in the elevator on my way down.


    ¡°It barely hurts at all.¡±


    ¡°Then why do you sound pissed?¡±


    A pause. ¡°I¡¯ll exin when you get here.¡±


    It takes me no time at all to drive over to the hospital, but I don¡¯t smile haplessly at other drivers anymore.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    She needed stitches.


    Her friend is the one that meets me in the corridor, the face vaguely familiar from the drinks I¡¯d joined her co-workers for. Alma, I think her name is.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she tells me. ¡°Maddie is in the waiting room-they¡¯re finalizing her prescription. I have to get back to work.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for driving her up.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Alma gives me a spective look, one that turns her frown into a smile. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you two to it.¡±


    The side of Maddie¡¯s right hand is wrapped in gauze, making it nearly double its usual size. She smiles when she sees me, but it¡¯s a bit sheepish. ¡°You came?¡±


    ¡°I said I would. Does it hurt?¡±


    ¡°Not particrly.¡± Her dark hair is tied back in a professional braid, a few strands escaping to curl around her face. ¡°They gave me painkillers.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± And because I can¡¯t resist. ¡°I thought I told you to be careful with knives.¡±


    She huffs out a frustrated breath. ¡°I was careful. I¡¯m always careful.¡±


    ¡°The knife didn¡¯t get the message.¡±


    ¡°Clearly not.¡± Maddie looks down at her injured hand like it¡¯s grievously offended her. ¡°I have less than a week until the finals. Less than a week!¡±


    ¡°Can you stillpete?¡±


    The look she shoots me makes it clear I¡¯m an idiot for asking. ¡°It¡¯s just a scratch. I¡¯ll just have to wrap it tightly.¡±


    Her shoulders are tense, just like the line of her mouth. I drape my arm around her shoulders. ¡°But you¡¯re okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m okay.¡± She rxes against my side. Her hair smells good, like soap and shampoo and something herb-like from the kitchens. ¡°Today was such a mess.¡±


    ¡°It was?¡±


    ¡°From start to finish.¡±


    ¡°Not from start,¡± I say. ¡°The morning was very enjoyable.¡±


    She snorts softly, her uninjured hand resting on my thigh. ¡°The morning was very enjoyable,¡± she agrees. ¡°So I take back my statement. Everything after I came to work was a mess.¡±


    A nurse turns the corner to the waiting room and stops when she sees us. She smiles. ¡°Well, here¡¯s your prescription, Miss Bell.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Maddie says. ¡°And I¡¯m to take these¡­?¡±


    ¡°The dosage is on the bottle.¡± The nurse puts her hands in her pockets, nodding to the both of us. ¡°It¡¯s great to see that you have someone ready to take you home. You be careful now, and follow the doctor¡¯s orders.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Maddie says.


    We head down the corridor, my arm still around her. ¡°Did you just lie to a registered nurse?¡±


    ¡°Why would you think that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming the doctor¡¯s orders don¡¯t involve working in theing days, and I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re nning to.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t assume,¡± Maddie says archly. ¡°It makes an ass out of you and me.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s been years since Ist heard that one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not nning on going back to work¡­ today, at least.¡±


    ¡°You know, this amount of gauze really makes it look worse than it is. It looks like I¡¯ve been attacked by a bear.¡±


    ¡°It looks like you¡¯ve tried to make yourself one-handed,¡± I say. ¡°Look, I admire the dedication to the pirate jokes, but I like you better without hooks.¡±


    Her smile warms up her face, transforming it from annoyed andbative to luminous in an instant. It¡¯s not fair for someone¡¯s smile to be that¡­captivating. She shouldn¡¯t be allowed to wield that thing without a license. Think of all the traffic incidents she could cause by sting it recklessly.


    ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous,¡± she tells me.


    I lean my nose into her hair, unable to resist. ¡°And you¡¯re staying in for the rest of the evening. How about you let me cook for a change?¡±


    She gives a dramatic shiver. ¡°Sounds dangerous.¡±


    ¡°See what I¡¯m doing right now?¡± I say, brandishing her fancy chef¡¯s knife and attempting to slice a tomato. ¡°I¡¯m going to julienne these.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 57

    Maddie¡¯s eyebrows rise, as she sits on one of her kitchen chairs. ¡°You know the julienne slice?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡± I attempt to flip the knife in my hand. It¡¯s only moderately sessful. ¡°I¡¯ve been trained in all the best schools. Switzend, Japan, Nicaragua¡­ I¡¯ve been all over.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± She rests her head in her good hand, grinning. ¡°Go on then, Master Chef. Show me how it¡¯s done.¡±


    A minuteter, I hold up my chopping board with a finely sliced tomato for her inspection. ¡°You might want to take cover when I do the next part.¡±


    ¡°Take cover?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The oil usually spatters a bit.¡±


    ¡°How professional.¡±


    I cluck my tongue at her, turning back to the hot pan. Making the only thing I can-spaghetti Bolognese-for a chef who cooks in a Michelin restaurant? If nothing else can be said about me, let it be known I have balls.


    ¡°Will you tell me now?¡± I ask, lifting the pot to the spaghetti. Maddie had tried to interfere a couple of times, but I told her this was my turn to shine.


    ¡°Tell you what?¡±


    ¡°What happened today.¡±


    She groans, and when I look back, she¡¯s resting her head against the table.


    ¡°That bad?¡± Leaving the food to its own devices, I pull out a chair next to her.


    She mumbles something into the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not made of oak, so I didn¡¯t catch that.¡±


    Maddie twists so she can look at me, her head resting on her arm. A tendril of dark hair has made itself at home across her cheek. I reach out and smooth it back.


    ¡°I told Jason I was a finalist for the culinary fellowship.¡±


    My hand drops to my side, a re of jealousy burning inside me at the mention of her ex. ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°While we were working next to each other on the line.¡± Her words make it clear this was the gravest form of error.


    I lean back. ¡°That¡¯s bad?¡±


    ¡°Considering I should have been able to predict his response, yeah, it¡¯s bad. The line is like a well-oiled machine. Each of us prepares a few aspects of a dish. Timing is important. So is teamwork.¡±


    ¡°And Jason¡¯s a finalist too,¡± I mutter, remembering.


    ¡°Oh yes, of course he is.¡±


    My hand tightens. ¡°He didn¡¯t run his knife through your hand, did he?¡±


    Her lips twitch. ¡°To sabotage thepetition?¡±


    ¡°No, he didn¡¯t. Though I appreciate the sentiment.¡± She sighs. ¡°He got upset. Told me that I was wasting my time and the jury¡¯s-that I should have waited until I was ready. That¡¯s what he always said, that I wasn¡¯t ready yet. Not to apply, not to have my own restaurant¡­¡±


    My teeth bite down on my tongue. ¡°That¡¯s such fucking bullshit.¡±


    Her eyes flick to mine. ¡°I think so too, now. I didn¡¯t always.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the best chef I¡¯ve ever met. Not to mention you¡¯re the most hard-working person. Fuck, Maddie, you could have had a restaurant years ago.¡±


    Her smile widens. ¡°Thanks. But finding investors to back a young, undecorated chef isn¡¯t easy.¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Fuck that. I know a ton of investors-I am an investor. Anyone would be happy to back you.¡±


    Her uninjured hand grips mine, her eyes switching to my fingers. ¡°Well, I got angry too. Chopping and being angry don¡¯t mix.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine not.¡±


    ¡°Ergo, the Incident.¡± She holds up her injured hand, eying it usingly. ¡°And there¡¯s no way I¡¯m letting this bad boy cost me a shot at the fellowship.¡±


    ¡°I understand why not,¡± I say, and every fiber of me hums in agreement. How dare he tell her she¡¯s not ready? To try to psych her out ofpeting?


    ¡°Yes. The pasta is about to boil over.¡±


    ¡°Shit.¡± I make it just in time, lowering the temperature and shifting to the Bolognese sauce. It stares back at me, uninteresting and in, just like all food I¡¯ve ever been able to make.


    The question gnaws at my bones, my shoulders tensing from the possibilities of her answers. ¡°Will you tell me?¡±


    ¡°Why you and Jason broke up,¡± I say. ¡°Why you dated him in the first ce.¡±


    Can she hear the burning curiosity in my voice?


    It¡¯s quiet for so long that I nce back, only to see Maddie staring at me. Her eyes are cloudy.


    I stop stirring the Bolognese. ¡°Too personal?¡±


    Her lips curve. ¡°We¡¯ve gotten pretty personal with one another already.¡±


    ¡°So we have,¡± I agree.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a pretty story.¡±


    My dislike of Jason rises by yet another degree. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Her eyes drift to the window, staring out at the neighboring buildings. Light flickers in the windows. ¡°I¡¯d been suspicious for a while. Just little things, you know. But then one evening¡­ I was returning to the restaurant after working a catering job. Just to drop off some stuff. The ce was all locked up, but it wasn¡¯t entirely dark. There was a light on in the bar.¡±


    Dread sinks to the bottom of my stomach. ¡°What did you see?¡±


    She puts her head in her hands. ¡°God, why am I telling you this? It¡¯s so¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Maddie.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 58

    ¡°He was with one of the waitresses. She was bent over the counter by the bar, and he was¡­ well. I¡¯m sure you can picture it.¡±


    I can.


    The bastard.


    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± I say, leaving the pasta and sauce to their own devices to sit down next to her. Every man for themselves now, boys.


    Maddie¡¯s eyes are conflicted. ¡°It¡¯s been a few months now. I don¡¯t miss him, I don¡¯t love him anymore. But the one thing I can¡¯t get over is my embarrassment.¡±


    ¡°Embarrassment?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d spoken to that waitress-her name is Sally-just a few days before. She¡¯d looked me in the eye and smiled and she¡¯d known. Who else on the staff knew? Who knows even now?¡± Maddie shakes her head, her rapidly unraveling braid fraying further. ¡°For weeks after, going to work was mortifying.¡±


    My heart stutters in my chest at the thought. Damn, but she¡¯s stronger than I would have been in that position.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you didn¡¯t quit.¡±


    Trantion: I can¡¯t believe you work with the fucker every day.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t.¡± Her hand grows into a fist on the table between us. ¡°I¡¯d worked just as hard as Jason to be hired at Marco¡¯s. There¡¯s no way that I¡¯d leave, not when he¡¯d been the one in the wrong.¡±


    ¡°Damn straight,¡± I tell her. ¡°That¡¯s impressive, Maddie.¡±


    Her lips curve into a wry smile. ¡°That¡¯s one way to look at it, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s even more impressive is that you haven¡¯t sliced a knife through his hand, not once.¡±


    She leans back in the chair and sighs. Reaching up with her uninjured hand, she undoes her hair, the ck, silky strands falling in waves around her face. ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it.¡±


    ¡°I bet you have,¡± I say. ¡°I wish I¡¯d known sooner. Making him mildly jealous is not near vile enough of a punishment.¡±


    Maddie¡¯s eyes find mine. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to tell you. I thought that maybe it would make you¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± She takes a deep breath. ¡°I don¡¯t like who I am in that story. I don¡¯t like being the wronged victim, and I don¡¯t like that I once cared for him. And I really, really hate feeling naive.¡±


    I nod slowly. ¡°It¡¯s a narrative you don¡¯t want to revisit.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Her hand inches closer to mine on the table, her eyes lightening with humor. ¡°No, it¡¯s much safer to sleep with a childhood friend in an uplicated scheme of fake fianc¨¦s.¡±


    I chuckle, wrapping my fingers around hers. ¡°Entirely uplicated,¡± I agree. ¡°What can go wrong?¡±Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Everything, probably.¡± Her eyes dance on mine. ¡°The sauce is burning.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shit.¡±


    ¡°See?¡± I hold up my hand, disying the sleek lc gauze I¡¯d wrapped around the small injury. ¡°Be hurt, but make it fashion.¡±


    Liam raises an eyebrow, running his gaze from mine down over my body. ¡°You¡¯re wearing the dress.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± Gripping the airy, purple fabric in my uninjured hand, I give a little spin. ¡°I can dress up when I need to.¡±


    He tugs at the top button of his shirt. The suit jacket stretches across his shoulders, the dark color clinging to him like it was tailored. It probably was-yet another subtle reminder of the differences between Liam and me these days.


    Gone are the days he wore his big brother¡¯s hand-me-down jacket, too short in the sleeves.


    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me,¡± he says. ¡°I still have difficulty getting the image of you in that red dress out of my mind.¡±


    ¡°Well, do you have to? Get the image out of your mind, I mean? I quite like living there.¡±


    Liam¡¯s smile shes, the wide, crooked one I love the most. ¡°You enjoy torturing me?¡±


    ¡°You enjoy being tortured,¡± I correct. ¡°I¡¯ve learned that much these past few weeks.¡±


    He reaches for my hand and tucks it into the crook of his arm. The movement is casual, like I¡¯m on his arm at parties all the time.


    ¡°Ready?¡±


    I nod, ncing past him to the giant, familiar house beyond. ¡°Onest hurrah.¡±


    Liam¡¯s grin is teasing. ¡°Onest hurrah.¡±


    Entering Cole and Skye Porter¡¯s house through the front door, dressed in heels and a dress, is surreal enough of an experience that I consider pinching myself. Being in their massive kitchen and d in a chef¡¯s shirt feels far easier.


    Curious eyes meet mine, drifting from Liam to me like they¡¯re wondering who I am. And why wouldn¡¯t they? I¡¯m no one to these people, just the anonymous filler of salmon puffs.


    Liam bends to my ear. ¡°We won¡¯t stay for more than an hour.¡±


    ¡°We can stay longer.¡±


    ¡°No, tomorrow¡¯s too important.¡± His arm tenses beneath mine. ¡°We can¡¯t let Jason win that fellowship.¡±


    A surprisedugh escapes me. We? Another part is relieved. Telling him about Jason¡¯s cheating had been mortifying. And now, he¡¯s¡­ well. We¡¯re a team.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry,¡± I murmur back. ¡°My dishes are perfect.¡±


    ¡°I know they are. I¡¯ve tasted them all.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I lean closer, lowering my voice. ¡°Not that I trust your opinion, though. Anything that¡¯s not a burger or a BLT, and you¡¯re grateful.¡±


    ¡°Anything that¡¯s cooked by you,¡± he corrects.


    A warmth blooms in my chest that has nothing to do with the teasing words or the thought of tomorrow¡¯s final. ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯tpliment you on your work.¡±


    Liam¡¯s grin widens. ¡°Of course you can. I¡¯ll send you some spreadsheets to look at.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll do it for you?¡± I bat my eyshes at him. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone make such detailed spreadsheets. You must collect¡­ so much data.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 59

    Liam pretends to shiver. ¡°Christ, but that got me hard.¡±


    Iugh, looking around. No one is close enough to have overheard. ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Learned from the best.¡± He tugs my hand more firmly into ce and pulls me along richly decorated rooms and out to the patio. The early summer air is hovering between chilly and warm, like it can¡¯t quite make up its mind.


    Liam nods hello to a few people I don¡¯t recognize, but we don¡¯t stop moving, not until he¡¯s found the bar.


    I¡¯m smiling over the ss of champagne he hands me. ¡°This is where we were rushing to?¡±


    ¡°Never mingle without a ss in your hand,¡± he advises me. ¡°I¡¯ve learnt that the hard way.¡±


    And I¡¯ve learnt that he feels mostfortable with a ss in his hand, too, something I don¡¯t point out as I watch his eyes scan the crowd. Liam the investor, Liam the mingler, Liam the yboy.


    My eyes scan the crowd just the same. ¡°I don¡¯t see Albert Walker anywhere.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s here, somewhere.¡± Liam takes a sip of his champagne. ¡°There¡¯s Nick. We should go say hello.¡±


    ¡°Nick?¡± I shake my head in thanks to a waiter holding out a tray of bruschetta-bruschetta from Marco¡¯s, a recipe I¡¯ve made a million times over.


    ¡°One of the owners of Porter, Park and Carter. This is technically his wedding celebration.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s his what?¡± I hasten to keep up at his side. ¡°This is a wedding party?¡±


    ¡°In the loosest sense of the word,¡± Liam says. He stops next to a man of simr height with darkly cropped hair and eyes that could only be described as striking. A few years older than us, perhaps.


    ¡°Liam,¡± the man says. ¡°You managed to tear yourself away from the screens?¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t miss this celebration,¡± Liam replies, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I take it this wasn¡¯t your idea?¡±


    The man-has to be Nichs Park-groans. ¡°No. Nor was it my wife¡¯s, surprised as you might be. Cole is unstoppable when he has an excuse to throw a party.¡±


    Liam snorts. ¡°Do you think he has a Great Gatsbyplex?¡±


    Nick¡¯s smile is all teeth. ¡°I knew hiring you was a good move.¡±


    ¡°Happy to oblige.¡± Liam¡¯s hand drifts to my lower back, to the spot that feels increasingly empty when his hand isn¡¯t there. ¡°Madison, this is Nick, Nick, Madison.¡±


    I extend a hand to the man in front of me. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Likewise.¡± The shake of his hand is firm, the glint in his eyes curious. ¡°So this is the¡­ arrangement I¡¯ve heard so much about?¡±


    ¡°From Ethan?¡±


    ¡°And Cole,¡± Nick says, raising a shoulder in an elegant shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t have a single word of reproach. You do what you have to.¡±


    Reproach?


    So Ethan hadn¡¯t reacted well to our little ruse, then. A pang of guilt in my stomach, the same one I¡¯d felt when Liam and I spoke about itst, floods through me.


    ¡°My thoughts exactly,¡± Liam says, raising his ss to Nick¡¯s. The look they share is half-devil, half-wolf. United in the aim of profit and business.


    I swallow against the dryness of my throat. Working in the kitchen is stressful. It makes my back and feet ache after long hours. But it¡¯s damn easy in terms of morals, and I suddenly long for the simplicity of good produce and people to serve.


    Onest hurrah.


    ¡°There¡¯s my wife now,¡± Nick says, nodding to a throng of people across thewn. ¡°Two weeks, and I still haven¡¯t gotten used to the word.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s drawing a crowd,¡± Liamments. My eyes narrow in on the blonde in the silver dress, her hands moving as she talks animatedly to those around her.


    I¡¯ve seen her before-that¡¯s Cole¡¯s sister ir, who works in fashion. Alma showed me an outfit she wore once, telling me she was considering buying a simr-looking jacket.


    My hand tightens on the champagne flute. Yeah, the kitchen might have knives and heat, but it¡¯s much safer.


    ¡°A pleasure meeting you.¡± Nick nods to me before striding off, pausing only to grab a salmon puff from a tray.


    Liam¡¯s voice grows tight. ¡°Iing in five, four, three¡­¡±


    I turn my head just in time to see a face, familiar in the square jaw and high cheekbones, an older version of the man I¡¯m standing beside. ¡°Ethan?¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    His eyes narrow as he looks at me, piercing green. Then recognition floods through them. ¡°Maddie?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me. Gosh, it¡¯s been years. How are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m excellent.¡± His gaze flickers to his brother¡¯s above me, and that¡¯s when I realize that Liam never told him his fake fianc¨¦e was me. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware you¡¯d be here tonight.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t sound so disappointed,¡± Liam says.


    Ethan frowns, but the eyes that return to mine are the same I remember. Controlled, warm, stable. They might be the same color as Liam¡¯s, but I¡¯ve never seen them sh and deepen like his.


    ¡°It¡¯s lovely to see you again, Maddie. How are your parents? They still live out in Fairfield?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re great. Really impressed by you, by the way. They mention it to me every time they¡¯ve read something in the papers.¡±


    His smile is crooked, genuine fondness there, even as his eyes flick back to his brother. ¡°Tell them I said hi?¡±


    ¡°I will, absolutely.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry my brother pulled you into this idiotic scheme of his.¡±


    Liam snorts. ¡°Idiotic? It¡¯s worked, hasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Not every action can be judged by its oue.¡±


    ¡°You sound like a Jedi,¡± Liam says. ¡°Or a book of motivational proverbs.¡±


    ¡°Albert Walker is here, at this very party, and you decided this would be a good time to tempt fate yet again?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I thought it a perfect opportunity. It¡¯s thest he¡¯ll see of us before we peacefully break up. Maybe we¡¯ll even throw in a little lover¡¯s quarrel.¡± Liam¡¯s voice deepens. ¡°And do you know what I don¡¯t need? You, forgetting that I¡¯m no longer twelve and intimidated by a lecture.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 60

    Ethan¡¯s face grows flushed with irritation, his voice rising an octave. ¡°Stop using your childhood friend for a fake engagement and I might!¡±


    My hand tightens around Liam¡¯s sleeve. Cool it. ¡°I¡¯m not being used,¡± I say. ¡°He¡¯s faking for me, too.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s eyes swing to mine. He opens his mouth, but whatever he¡¯s about to say is cut short by a gravelly voice to our left.


    ¡°Well,¡± Albert Walker says. ¡°This has been very illuminating.¡±


    Cole Porter stands next to him, his face a thundercloud. They must have walked up to join the conversation, only to find the brothers too engrossed to notice.


    ¡°Mr. Walker,¡± Liam says. His voice is instantly calm again, like water over slippery rocks. ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you again.¡±


    The older man simply nods, like something has just been confirmed. My hand falls from Liam¡¯s.


    I want to sink through the ground.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°I imagine it is.¡±


    Then he turns, leaving all of us behind. Liam starts to follow him, but a raised hand from Cole stops him. ¡°Let me.¡±


    ¡°No, I need to exin.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t want to hear it.¡±


    The two of them disappear down a shaded path in the garden, following the man who¡¯d opened his country cabin for us. I want to wrap my arms around myself in guilt. I¡¯d had dinner at his table and cooked food with his wife.


    ¡°None of this is your fault,¡± Ethan mutters. ¡°It¡¯s all Liam¡¯s. What the hell was he thinking?¡±


    My words slip out of me before I can consider them. ¡°He wanted tond you three the biggest investment deal of the decade.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but there are limits.¡± Ethan shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry he dragged you into this. He was always good at that, dragging you into whatever game he had invented, and you ending up with a broken finger.¡±


    My heart smarts at that. ¡°I invented plenty of games too.¡±


    ¡°You did.¡± Ethan¡¯s lips curve into a reluctant smile, like he¡¯s remembering those days in Fairfield, when the hedge between our two houses had a well-trodden path through it. I wonder what the memories look like from his viewpoint. ¡°You were always a good influence on him.¡±


    ¡°I agreed to this too. The whole fake engagement.¡± My eyesnd on the diamond on my finger, the ludicrously expensive ring.


    Liam¡¯s ring.


    ¡°About that. Why did you?¡±


    There are a ton of answers. I thought rubbing a new rtionship in my ex¡¯s face would make me feel better.


    But no. It hasn¡¯t-and it¡¯s not why I continued.


    ¡°Because he asked me to,¡± I say simply. ¡°And because it was fun, at a time when I really, really needed it.¡±


    ¡°I can understand that. More than you know, I think.¡± We smile at each other for a moment. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± he adds, ¡°he couldn¡¯t have picked a better woman to fake propose to.¡±


    My surprisedughter breaks the tension. Liam turns the corner, a scowl on his face.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you two some space.¡± Ethan steps to the side, retreating into the throng of people-but not before he gives his brother a warning look.


    I can practically see Liam chafe under its weight.


    ¡°Did you speak to him?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°Walker had already made it to his car. I¡¯m going to talk to him tomorrow, make it clear that he can pull out of the contract if he wishes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d do that?¡±


    ¡°Of course I would.¡± He nces past my shoulder, before his hand shoots out and closes over my wrist. He pulls me around the house, toward the secluded area next to the kitchen door.


    My words pour out. ¡°I¡¯m sorry he found out. Sorry about your deal.¡±Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org.


    Liam nods tightly, releasing my arm to pace. There¡¯s a quiet fury in his form. ¡°Not your fault.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still sorry. I know how much it meant to you.¡±


    His hands tighten at his sides. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s just one deal. There¡¯ll be others, right? And you¡¯re still one of the best investors on the West Coast. And the East Coast, probably.¡±


    Liam snorts, a short, derisive sound. ¡°It was never about the money.¡±


    ¡°I thought it was always about the money.¡±


    He runs a hand through his hair, the movement jerky. ¡°The most prestigious deal in a decade, and it¡¯s just¡­ Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Why are you so angry?¡±


    ¡°Angry? Angry would be nothing. No, I¡¯m¡­ I don¡¯t even know what I am.¡± He shakes his head, eyes fixed somewhere far, far away. ¡°I have to be better. I have to prove that I¡¯m better than¡­¡±


    ¡°Better than Ethan?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he growls. ¡°Nick and Cole might trust me to manage their capital because of my record, but most think it¡¯s just because of myst name.¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°And this deal would have proven¡­?¡±


    ¡°That I can find investment opportunities where others can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°This all goes back to Ethan.¡± I shake my head, staring at Liam. ¡°Far back.¡±


    ¡°My whole life, I¡¯ve heard how skilled he is. How talented, how brilliant. I can¡¯t invent technology, but I can make money, so that¡¯s what I do.¡±


    ¡°Regardless of what it costs you?¡± A sinking suspicion settles in my stomach. ¡°What will you say to Albert?¡±


    He braces his hands on a low stone wall. ¡°I don¡¯t know yet. I¡¯ll have to figure it out, y it off his tone.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 61

    ¡°You still want to invest in hispany.¡±


    Steely green eyes meet mine. ¡°Of course I do. Nothing has changed.¡±


    ¡°Did you bring me here today for Albert¡¯s sake? Or to show me off in front of Ethan?¡±


    His eyes narrow. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean. You hadn¡¯t told him I was your fake fianc¨¦e.¡± Does this all go back to that stupid kiss in childhood? The one he told me he hadn¡¯t been able to get over? That would be beyond immature.


    Liam¡¯s chest rises with his breath. Once, twice. Our eyes remain locked, and in his, the answer is written across endless green.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t the reason,¡± he admits, ¡°but shocking him did cross my mind.¡±


    I lean against the wall of the house. My champagne ss is long since empty, but I look down at it regardless. The hand-blown flute is easier to face than the man I¡¯ve started to care about. ¡°Your world isplicated, Liam,¡± I breathe. ¡°Tooplicated for me.¡±


    A few secondster, his long fingers curl around my chin. His face is one of determination.


    ¡°Let me make a quick round and do damage control with Nick, Cole and Ethan. Then I¡¯ll drive you home.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    His lips against my temple are perfunctory, and then he¡¯s gone, and I¡¯m alone on the side of Cole Porter¡¯s house. The sounds from the kitchen are faint but unmistakable, reaching me through a half-cracked window.


    I sink down onto the stone steps and put my head in my hands. I¡¯m feeling too much, all of it at once, and parsing through my feelings is never something I¡¯ve been particrly good at.


    We¡¯ve never spoken about what¡¯ll happen after tomorrow. After he ys my boyfriend for thest time, after our ruse is up.


    I stare down at the band of tinum around my finger. An adornment. A curse.


    It¡¯s not a fake, but it might as well be.Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org.


    The sound of a door opening breaks me out of my musings. Someone walks past me on the steps. I follow the boots up along ck pants, a chef¡¯s jacket, and¡­


    No, not this too-not tonight. My already frayed self-control snaps, the sound almost audible to my ears.


    Jason¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Madison?¡±


    His lips tighten into a thin line. ¡°You¡¯re here as a guest?¡±


    ¡°I am, yes.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why you couldn¡¯t work tonight.¡± He gives augh that doesn¡¯t sound the least bit amused. ¡°Gosh, I barely recognize you these days.¡±


    I stand, brushing out the skirt of my purple dress. ¡°I could say the same for you.¡±


    He shifts the icebox he¡¯s carrying to his other arm, shaking his head. ¡°Dating one of these suit-d pricks, ruining your chances at the fellowship bypeting one-handed.¡± He shakes his head again, this time with something that looks awfully like pity. ¡°Maddie, you¡¯re a great chef. You have real potential. Don¡¯t waste it tomorrow, in front of chefs who¡¯ll remember it for the rest of your career.¡±


    Funny, how I once thought he was thergest man in the world. How he could aplish anything-the glow stretched from his knife-work to his social skills.


    Now he looks small, standing in front of me, and so transparent I can almost make out the shrubbery through him.


    ¡°The only thing I¡¯ve wasted is time, and only because I spent it on you,¡± I tell him. ¡°The one thing I¡¯m done wasting is my potential. So you better do your best tomorrow, Jason, because so will I, and I¡¯m a damn good chef.


    ¡°And do you know what else I¡¯m done with? You. I don¡¯t want your opinions about my life, about my work, about who I¡¯m dating. You forfeited the right to that when you screwed the waitress.¡±


    Jason¡¯s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. ¡°That was months ago, Maddie. I thought we could-¡±


    ¡°Well, you thought wrong.¡± Taking a move straight out of Liam¡¯s ybook, I pretend to flick a piece of lint off the sleeve of my dress. ¡°Good luck tomorrow, Jason. You¡¯ll need it.¡±


    Not looking back-never looking back again-I head toward Cole Porter¡¯s driveway, the same path I¡¯d walked all those weeks prior. And when I call the cab, and text Liam to let him know he doesn¡¯t have to drive me home, all I feel is a giddy sort of relief.


    Atst, all I have left to do is cook.


    Nerves race down my spine as I follow the attendant into therge teaching kitchen. My eyes search row after row of cooking stations for the one with my name on it.


    There, Madison Webb. And of course my cooking station is the one at the front, closest to the table of judges. It¡¯s not enough that they¡¯ll eat our dishes-they¡¯re judging us as we work, too.


    It¡¯s math homework all over again, and the little note at the side. Show your work.


    I¡¯d failed at that, back then.


    But there¡¯s no way I¡¯m failing today.


    I have to sp my hands behind my back to keep from double-checking that my hair is still firmly knotted into a chignon.


    I scan the scattered chairs beyond the judges. Culinary critics, journalists, family members, a few partners, friends to the contestants-all ready to watch the six of us prepare dishes for the best culinary tastebuds on the West Coast.


    I don¡¯t see Liam anywhere.


    I¡¯d texted him detailed instructions this morning, and he¡¯d responded with a thumbs up. But the piercing green eyes are absent from the crowd.


    Alma waves at me, her eyes wide. I wave back at her and smooth my hands over my apron. She¡¯s here. I¡¯m here. My ingredients are here.


    That¡¯s all that matters.


    A familiar voice mutters behind me, because that¡¯s just my luck. Of course Jason was assigned the cooking station behind me.


    I don¡¯t look back at him. I keep my eyes peeled on the judges who enter instead, one by one. My nerves rise as I recognize them-harsh food critics and famed chefs alike.


    But it¡¯s thest one that makes my nerves soar, as Marco steps into the room.


    Marco is one of the judges?


    Why hadn¡¯t I known that?


    He sits down at the judging panel, slender hands folded in front of him on the table. Perhaps he sees my gaze, because his lips quirk up at the corner, a bushy eyebrow rising in acknowledgment.


    Both Jason and I are cooking-and both of us are his employees. A nervous sweat breaks out at the nape of my neck. He¡¯s always praised Jason¡¯s skills with meat.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 62

    I¡¯m done for.


    No, Maddie. There¡¯s nothing I can do now but cook. I repeat the mantra in my head-nothing to do but cook. And for theing hours, cook I do. The chefs around me be irrelevant, even as I hear someone cursing as mb¨¦ing goes awry, or hissing at the scalding heat of boiling water.


    My hand, wrapped tightly in gauze, doesn¡¯t slow me down-not even as it begins to sting from the pressure I put on it.


    My damn eyes can¡¯t stop ncing over at the audience chairs from time to time, but Liam doesn¡¯t show.


    I push the disappointment away.


    ¡°Thirty minutes left!¡± a judge calls out. The energy in the air rises to fever pitch, tension practically rivaling oxygen for space.


    All around me, chefs race toplete their dishes.


    I stare down at the duck breast I¡¯m cutting. I¡¯ve never had duck this tender before, Liam¡¯s voice flits through my mind. Did you beat it into submission? A crooked smile on his lips. Or did it surrender, seeing you?


    I tranche the duck with sure strokes of my knife and ignore the way his unexined absence hurts, like a betrayal, like a p.


    When I nce back up, Alma is pulling on her jacket.


    She shoots me a thumbs up and a mouthed you got this. I grin back at her. Thanks, I mouth, waving at her to go. She has the prep shift at the restaurant.


    Everything goes downhill after that.


    The fish burns while I¡¯m busy finishing the tapenade. Three of my ravioli unravel in the pot. A nce at the clock and I identally pour too much salt into the mash.


    Sweat drips down my back and my legs ache from standing up, from tension.


    ¡°Keep going,¡± I murmur to myself, fighting against the pain in my hand. ¡°Come on, just get those dishes out.¡±


    And I do.


    God knows how I manage it, but by the time the clock runs out, there are five dishes ted and prepared on my station.


    I push away from the station and breathe, my chest heaving with effort. The duck isn¡¯t ted perfectly. I know for a fact that one of my sauces didn¡¯t emulsify correctly. But I did it.


    My triumph is short-lived, though, as the judges start to do their rounds.


    I tear off the apron and stuff it into my bag with more force than is warranted. Applicants do the same all around me, but I don¡¯t pay them any heed.


    The judges didn¡¯t say anything negative-but they didn¡¯t say anything positive, either. Only scribbled on their notepads and frowned after tasting each of my dishes, like they were trying to figure out what was wrong with them.


    Marco had been the paragon of neutrality. He didn¡¯t even acknowledge that he knew me.


    The only person in the room who got a positivement? Jason, of course. He got excellent steak from one of the judges.


    You could have heard a needle drop in the silence that followed amongst the chefs and the audience.


    And they¡¯d said nothing to me.


    And I knew for a fact that my fish was overdone.


    And why the hell had I gone with a balsamic reduction instead of an orange sauce for the duck?


    I rummage through my bag, fighting against the sudden lump in my throat. Because worst of all, Liam had known how important this was, and he hadn¡¯te.


    A patronizing voice behind me. ¡°You actually did quite well, Maddie. I saw your dishes.¡±


    ¡°Screw you.¡± Any more, and I¡¯ll snap.


    Surprised silence. ¡°There¡¯s no need to-oh.¡± Jason¡¯s voice grows terse. ¡°Well, you¡¯re a bitte.¡±


    The cool voice that follows is just as familiar, causing my heart to ache. ¡°If I want your opinion, I¡¯ll ask.¡±


    My hands tremble as I zip up my bag. I can¡¯t find the energy to greet him. Liam doesn¡¯t greet me either, a tall shadow waiting in the wings, knowing a storm is brewing.Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org.


    ¡°How did it go?¡±


    I shoulder my bag. There is no way this conversation is happening here. As I walk toward the exit, he falls in line next to me, long strides easily matching mine.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you did great.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. I overcooked the fish, my mash was salty, and there was too much tarragon in the pasta sauce.¡± An angry tear falls down my cheek and I wipe it away.


    ¡°But there¡¯s no such thing as too much tarragon.¡± Liam¡¯s voice is guarded, like he¡¯s waiting for the explosion. ¡°When do you get the results?¡±


    ¡°In a week. Where were you?¡±


    He blows out a breath, the silence stretching between us. He holds open the door to the institute and we emerge onto the sunny street, people passing by as if this was an ordinary day. As if I hadn¡¯t just had the most difficult culinary challenge of my life.


    ¡°I drove to Albert Walker¡¯s cabin,¡± he admits.


    My feet stop on the sidewalk, like they¡¯ve been rooted to the ground.


    Defiant green eyes meet mine. ¡°He drove upst night, apparently. Wasn¡¯t returning my calls. So I got in the car to follow him.¡±


    I swallow against the hurt that rises up in my throat. Ites out anyway,cing my words. ¡°And? Were you sessful?¡±


    Liam shakes his head. ¡°He wasn¡¯t in the mood to be convinced.¡±


    ¡°Shocking.¡± My fingers tighten around the handle of my bag. ¡°What did he say?¡±


    His jaw works. ¡°A lot. Most of it unttering.¡±


    Theugh that escapes me isn¡¯t happy at all. Exhaustion iscing my limbs, my hands shaky with the release of tension. ¡°Four weeks I¡¯ve prepared for this test,¡± I tell him. ¡°You knew what it meant to me, and you couldn¡¯t even text me to let me know?¡±


    Green eyes meet mine. ¡°I know. I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t here.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re not really, though, are you? Because you¡¯d make the same decision again in a heartbeat.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 63

    ¡°It¡¯s my job, Maddie.¡±


    I turn away from him, away from the culinary institute. I¡¯m probably walking in the wrong direction from where I parked my car, but I need to move. Get away from him looking at me like that.


    Like I¡¯d been a fool for expecting him to act any differently.


    A familiar burst of humiliation explodes in my stomach, because I¡¯ve done it again. Sometime over thest couple of weeks I¡¯ve gottenfortable. Forgotten that we¡¯re not anything, that we were friends once but it¡¯s not clear that we are again.


    Let myself hope against reason that this could¡­ that we could¡­


    Rtionships aren¡¯t for me. Jason had illustrated that-Liam has confirmed it. There¡¯s no way I¡¯ll let myself get hurt again.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    Liam¡¯s hand on my arm drops, his gaze searching my face. ¡°You¡¯re pissed.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not pissed.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I can tell? I¡¯ve known you since we were six.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, there was over a decade there where you didn¡¯t know me at all.¡± I look away from the intensity of his eyes. ¡°A decade where I didn¡¯t know you at all.¡±


    The differences yawn between us, clearer to me than they¡¯ve been for weeks. I¡¯m back in the kitchen at Cole Porter¡¯s, a half-remembered stranger in front of me covered in marinara sauce.


    Perhaps we¡¯re just clinging to what we once used to be and not who we actually are today. I¡¯m not someone who¡¯s ready to y second fiddle to the numbers on his screen.


    My ambition isn¡¯t less important than his.


    Liam steps back. ¡°Okay. Fine. I wasn¡¯t here, and it¡¯s your right to be¡­ angry about that.¡±


    ¡°Damn right.¡±


    ¡°Let me drive you home, at least. There¡¯s a bottle of champagne in my trunk to celebrate.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no reason to celebrate. I haven¡¯t gotten the fellowship yet.¡±


    He bites into his lower lip, eyes narrowing. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I reach into the pocket of my jeans and pull out the engagement ring. It had felt too risky to wear it today, but I¡¯d kept it close, a good luck token. ¡°I forgot to give you this yesterday, when we left the party.¡±


    Liam stares down at the glittering ring in my open palm for a few moments. His chest rises and falls, and I get the absurd idea that he¡¯s considering knocking it out of my hand altogether.


    But then he epts it, his hand curling into a fist around the ring. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m driving straight to Fairfield this evening. To my parents¡¯.¡±


    He nods once. His face is impassive, strong features inscrutable. ¡°Spending the weekend there?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m back on Monday.¡±


    ¡°Can I call you next week? Perhaps when you¡¯re not¡­ not angry anymore?¡±


    Twenty-seven letters in the Englishnguage, and a million possible words, but there¡¯s nobination that feels right.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say, turning around. ¡°See you around, Carter.¡±


    Whiskey usually helps. Champagne sometimes too, although it¡¯s never dark enough for my needs. Gin and tonics-deceitfully easy to drink. I need something that burns going down.


    It¡¯s the only way I¡¯ll purge the guilt ravaging my throat like a wildfire.


    Guilt in every which direction, in every rtionship. Beyond Albert, I can¡¯t think of a single person I know intimately that I haven¡¯t let down in the past forty-eight hours.


    My mind itemizes them effortlessly. Cole. Nick. Ethan.


    Maddie.


    The whiskey isn¡¯t enough to burn away the dismissive look in her eyes. I¡¯d prepared for anger. For irritation. For groveling.


    Not cool detachment.


    And not the announcement that she¡¯s pulling a disappearing act over the weekend.


    I swirl the tumbler around, watching the amber liquid. It¡¯s easier than facing the numbers on the screen.


    Drinking and investing.


    It¡¯s been years since that was my lifestyle, but here I am again.


    ¡°Just you and me, old friend.¡± I raise my ss to myputer and all three of the screens. I seldom day-trade anymore, but they¡¯re there just in case.


    They don¡¯t respond.


    And it¡¯s so fucking quiet in this giant apartment I¡¯d rented, in this giant fucking high-rise in the middle of a city I thought I¡¯d left behind for good.


    There¡¯s nothing in my fridge for lunch. Staring down at the food delivery app in my phone, the two familiar choices listed under Order again? feel like a personal attack.


    That¡¯s how I find myself grabbing the keys to the ostentatious car I¡¯d bought when I moved back and basically never driven. I head to Greenwood Hills, waving at the security guard as I pass the familiar gates.


    Ethan¡¯s home, because of course he is, with a six-month-old baby, a new puppy and two little girls. The man has be so domestic that he should be the one to wear the cor.


    Be¡¯s voice rings out through the inte. ¡°Liam?¡±


    ¡°In the flesh,¡± I confirm. ¡°I¡¯m here to crash family time.¡±Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You are family, silly.¡±


    The door swings open for me and I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m here, doing this, willingly walking in to talk to my brother about how badly I¡¯ve screwed up. Assuaging guilt with more guilt is definitely the way to go. Two negatives cancelling one other out, and all that.


    ¡°Come in,e in.¡± A bright-eyed Be opens the door with a smile. Her brown hair is in a messy bun, a wriggling form in her arms.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 64

    ¡°Lucas?¡±


    ¡°Just woke up from his nap. Look who¡¯s here! It¡¯s your uncle!¡±


    I reach over and run my fingers over my nephew¡¯s back. He¡¯s so tiny, the little thing-smaller than I remember his big sisters being at this age. Or perhaps I didn¡¯t notice back then, living in New York and detesting Ethan¡¯s ex-wife.


    ¡°Oh, will you? Thanks.¡± Be thrusts the bundle into my arms and I hold him awkwardly, my shoulder cradling his neck. Big green eyes look up at me with the intense curiosity only a small child is capable of.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Ethan is in the backyard,¡± Be calls over her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back-the dog needs feeding!¡±


    I close the front door behind me with a grin. So I¡¯ve managed to arrive on one of the rare weekends when they¡¯re staff-less, both housekeeper and cleaners off-duty.


    I find my brother lying on his stomach on the grass, his daughters on either side of him. Haven puts a foot on his back and he grunts.


    Giggling, she steps onto him, bncing with her arms out wide.


    ¡°What, exactly, are you guys doing?¡±


    Haven jumps off Ethan. ¡°Liam!¡±


    ¡°Hey, kid.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re giving Daddy a massage!¡± Evie scrambles onto Ethan¡¯s back as he struggles up on an elbow.


    ¡°Do you need to be saved? You look like you do.¡±


    Haven grips a hold of my shirt and tugs, standing on her tiptoes. ¡°Let me see him.¡±


    I lower Lucas and she gazes into his face. His eyes are just as curious as he stares at his big sister.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± she says brightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The baby squirms, wide-eyed.


    Ethan gets to his feet. ¡°They saw something on TV where a man got a massage by getting walked on.¡± Is that embarrassment on his face?


    ¡°And you volunteered as the test subject.¡± I nod. ¡°Makes sense. What did you say once? No dignity for dads.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± He nces from me to Lucas, as if he¡¯s about to ask to take him from me. My fingers tighten around the tiny bundle.


    ¡°Uncle Liam?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Haven?¡±


    ¡°Have you started working on our cousins yet?¡±


    Ethanughs, and I can¡¯t help but grin. ¡°Not really. Sorry, kid.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯d be just as surprised as you if any cousins showed up.¡± Ethan ruffles her hair. ¡°One day, perhaps.¡±


    ¡°Everything¡¯s one day,¡± Havenins.


    Ethan extends a hand to the patio chairs and I sit down in one of them, stretching out my legs. ¡°Wasn¡¯t expecting you today, Liam.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to be here.¡±


    He clears his throat, his gaze resting on me with a weight I can feel down to my toes. I meet it just as gravely.


    ¡°Girls,¡± Ethan says. ¡°How about you go y in the treehouse for a bit?¡±


    ¡°But Uncle Liam just arrived!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll y with you soon,¡± I say. ¡°I just need to talk to your dad.¡±


    Evie sighs but agrees, skipping toward the treehouse in the distance. Haven stops by her dad on the way.


    ¡°Make him give us cousins,¡± she stage-whispers in theically stern voice only a six-year-old is capable of.


    Ethan shakes his head when we¡¯re alone. ¡°They¡¯re obsessed.¡±


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re doing your best to keep their expectations low.¡±


    He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. ¡°Not my very best, perhaps. I might not nag you about it, but I wouldn¡¯t mind my kids having cousins, either.¡±


    I groan, resting my head against the chair. ¡°Not you too.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± Ethan confirms. He leans forward, arms on his knees. ¡°How did it go yesterday? You told me something about it.¡±


    ¡°I drove up to Albert¡¯s cabin,¡± I say, looking from him to Lucas, still in my arms. My nephew is busy trying to fit his entire fist in his mouth. ¡°We spoke briefly. He wasn¡¯t impressed by the ruse.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll call me againter this week, but I think it¡¯s safe to assume the investment is over.¡±


    ¡°I thought we already had the paperwork drawn up.¡±


    ¡°I told him he was free to tear it up if he wished-we wouldn¡¯t hold him to it.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s eyes widen, like he hadn¡¯t expected me to make such a concession. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°I expect Cole and Nick will be disappointed, but I¡¯ll have a new strategy to present at our next meeting. There are already a fewpanies I believe will yield extraordinary results in theing years, ones I-¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant, you know. When I asked how yesterday went.¡±


    My jaw tightens. ¡°Right.¡±Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t Maddie have that cookingpetition yesterday?¡±


    Ah.


    Herees the guilt.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 65

    I lean back in the chair, holding Lucas closer. ¡°That was all you had to say on the Albert Walker fiasco? I thought for certain I¡¯d hear an I told you so.¡±


    Ethan raises an eyebrow. ¡°We¡¯re not done talking yet, are we? There¡¯s still time.¡±


    I scoff. ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    ¡°So? Maddie?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she cooked for the judges of the culinary institute yesterday.¡±


    ¡°She says not well, but I¡¯m sure she nailed it. She makes the best food I¡¯ve ever eaten.¡± I nce down at a tiny stockinged foot, having escaped the swaddle. Lucas lifts it up in the air with a flexibility that would make an acrobat green with envy. ¡°I wasn¡¯t there to watch her or to cheer her on. I¡¯d promised I would be.¡±


    ¡°Because you drove to speak to Albert Walker instead.¡± The judgement hangs heavy in his words.


    ¡°Madison Webb,¡± Ethan says quietly. ¡°Where did you find her again? How did you convince her to be part of this whole thing?¡±


    ¡°She was working as a caterer at the Porters¡¯.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how you bumped into her?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Damn, what are the odds.¡±


    I look from him to the girls, blissfully ying far away. Rare are the times Ethan swears when he¡¯s with his family. He can¡¯t be as calm about all of this as he¡¯s pretending to be.


    ¡°And?¡± he asks. ¡°What¡¯s happened over these past weeks?¡±


    ¡°Well, you two haven¡¯t just been tonically dating, have you? I heard the way she spoke about you the other night. Saw it on her face, even.¡±


    ¡°No, it hasn¡¯t just been tonic.¡±


    ¡°You know, in any other circumstance I¡¯d be thrilled for you. You two messed it up enough when you were teenagers, and this is like getting a second chance.¡±


    My hand tightens around my nephew¡¯s soft thigh, clutching him to me. He gives a soft gurgle. ¡°We messed it up?¡±


    ¡°Mom and I always expected you¡¯de home one day and announce you were a couple.¡±


    ¡°And those expectations kept the very thing from happening,¡± I say. ¡°Yours and everyone else¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s notplicated,¡± Ethan counters.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯splicated. Everything is fuckingplicated when you¡¯re not called Ethan Carter.¡± I run my other hand through my hair, the guilt snapping at my heels, my anger rising. ¡°Why did you kiss her?¡±


    ¡°Kiss her? What, when we were kids?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You knew she was my best friend in the entire world. Why did you kiss her?¡±


    It¡¯s a question I didn¡¯t ask him back then, but now it pours out of me with barely concealed rancor. Ethan just blinks at me.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you were angry at me for weeks after?¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    He throws his head back andughs, the sound equal parts amused and startled.


    The anger inside me sharpens. ¡°Happy to entertain you.¡±


    ¡°It was a mistake, I admit. I was¡­ Christ, why have you never asked me this before?¡±


    There¡¯s no answer to that, none at all that I can think of.


    ¡°I was a kid, we were talking about kissing and neither of us had done it. It wasn¡¯t particrly well-considered.¡± Ethan looks from me to his son, still happily kicking his legs in my arms like a budding swimmer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t think I ever said that to you, but I was. I knew you liked her.¡±


    ¡°Why could you never say that?¡±


    ¡°Come on, Liam.¡± Ethan¡¯s smile turns crooked. ¡°We werepetitive as hell growing up. Or have you forgotten?¡±


    Forgotten?


    Growing up?


    I¡¯vepeted against you my entire life.


    He continues. ¡°She was angry at you yesterday, I take it.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    ¡°She wouldn¡¯t admit it, but yes. Furious.¡±


    ¡°You apologized, right?¡±


    ¡°Of a sort.¡±


    Ethan groans. ¡°Man, you need to learn how to say I¡¯m sorry and mean it. I can¡¯t believe you were given this chance again and fucked it up.¡±


    He makes it sound so simple, so straightforward. As if¡­ as if I¡¯m the one making it moreplicated than it needs to be.


    Your world is tooplicated.


    ¡°You made the wrong call yesterday,¡± he says.


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve sort ofe to that realization on my own.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to be with her?¡±


    My eyes drift closed, because I can¡¯t look at my brother while the images his question conjures up dance behind my lids. Maddie¡¯s teasing grin, her hand in mine. The way she¡¯d looked in the red dress. Her soft words in the darkness, voice like silk.


    ¡°I¡¯ve moved a million miles an hour for years and with her, I¡¯m just¡­ not.¡±


    When I open my eyes, Ethan is giving me a smile that¡¯s all too knowing. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty good sign.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in Fairfield this weekend. I¡¯d nned to give her space, but¡­¡± I look down at Lucas, bouncing him softly in my arms. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s been too long since I¡¯ve been back home.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 66

    ¡°Go, then,¡± Ethan murmurs. ¡°Give my kids some cousins.¡±


    ¡°Screw you,¡± I tell him, but we¡¯re both grinning.


    I nce from my book to the phone next to me. Still nothing. No email, no texts, no calls. Shaking my head, I flip the page and try to return to the flow of the story. I never have time to read, so this weekend should be a godsend.Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org.


    Another nce at my phone.


    Blowing out a frustrated breath, I put down the book altogether. There¡¯s no way to concentrate after the past couple of days I¡¯ve had.


    And whose call am I waiting for?


    The institute¡¯s?


    Or Liam¡¯s?


    My mind has been reying the events of the past few days nonstop. The confrontation with Jason at Cole Porter¡¯s, the argument with Liam yesterday, the sauce that didn¡¯t emulsify. It all stings, but the worst of it is his no-show. That he didn¡¯t text me beforehand.


    The realization that we¡¯re not what I¡¯d hoped we were.


    I push away from the bench in my parents¡¯ garden, tucking my book under my arm. Perhaps I¡¯ll go for a run instead, clear my head and race from my troubles.


    A car engine roars on the street outside my parents¡¯ house. I look over the hedge, frowning. My parents¡¯ house is on a cul-de-sac-and no one drives fast in Fairfield. A ck sports car parks outside our house, familiar in its sleek shape.


    No. No. No.


    But yes, because here he is, stepping out of the car and stretching to his full height. A gray button-down clings to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Liam locks the car behind him and runs a hand through his hair.


    He looks like something out of a magazine.


    I rush out to the sidewalk on half-steady legs. ¡°Liam? What are you doing here?¡±


    His lips quirk when he sees me, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. ¡°I couldn¡¯t let ourst conversation stand.¡±


    ¡°But why here? My parents are just inside!¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go say hi.¡±


    I just stare at him. ¡°Of course not. They don¡¯t exactly know what we¡¯ve been doing.¡± Grabbing his arm, I pull him down the sidewalk. ¡°Come on.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not adverse to a walk,¡± he says. ¡°Exercise is important.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°No, you are. But I want to get back in your good graces, so I¡¯ll refrain from pointing it out.¡±


    ¡°You just did.¡±


    ¡°Right. Well, I¡¯ll be on my best behavior from here on out.¡±


    I look over my shoulder. My parents haven¡¯te out to investigate the car-no doubt they¡¯re still nted on the back porch with the Saturday crossword and the ocean view.


    ¡°You drove all the way out here?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Do you know I haven¡¯t been back in Fairfield since I left?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I do know. My parents would have informed me the second they heard you¡¯d been in town.¡±


    Surprised green eyes meet mine, but hmm is all he says. And then I¡¯m the one who has to catch up with him, hurrying as he strides down a grassy path between two houses to the cliffs beyond. I tug my sweater tight around my body as an ocean breeze sweeps over us. It¡¯s always nippy this close to the Pacific.


    Liam¡¯s voice is pleased. ¡°Remember all the time we spent out here?¡±


    ¡°We tried to fish off these cliffs once. Your dad told us it wouldn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°He was right.¡± I shake my head, looking at him. ¡°Liam, why are you here?¡±


    He gives me a crooked smile, devoid of calcted charm or slickness. It¡¯s self-deprecating. ¡°I made the wrong call the other day. I suspected it the second I got in the car, but by then it felt toote. I figured putting out one fire was better than nothing at all.¡±


    I swallow. ¡°You didn¡¯t call me to let me know.¡±


    ¡°I thought about it.¡± Liam shoves his hands in his pockets, the wind tousling his thick hair. ¡°But I was¡­ well, I was afraid to.¡±


    ¡°Afraid?¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯d tell me I¡¯d made the wrong decision.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not for me to decide.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says, smiling, ¡°but you would have made it clear nheless.¡±


    I look away from him to the blue ocean beyond. It¡¯s calm, nothing like the storm inside me. ¡°What are we?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re friends,¡± Liam says. ¡°We¡¯ve always been friends. Not seeing each other for a decade hasn¡¯t changed that-not for me.¡±


    ¡°And sleeping together?¡±


    ¡°Not very friendly of us,¡± he admits. ¡°Awfully fun, though.¡±


    A small, breathlessugh escapes me. ¡°See, that¡¯s whatplicates it for me. I thought I¡¯d be able to separate things, to just have fun¡­ but that¡¯s not me.¡±


    ¡°I know, Maddie.¡±


    ¡°And I can forgive a friend easily for yesterday-for making the wrong call. Of course I can.¡±


    Something in his shoulders rxes, green eyes warming on mine. I force the next words out. ¡°But I don¡¯t know if I can forgive someone I¡¯m¡­ sleeping with doing that. I can¡¯t have anything like that happen again.¡± My words take on a frantic tone, but I can¡¯t stop it, can¡¯t stop my fingers from fisting in my sweater. ¡°I can¡¯t get hurt again.¡±


    ¡°I know, Maddie, I know. And I don¡¯t ever want to be the one who hurts you. I won¡¯t-if I say I¡¯ll be there, I will.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t promise that.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 67

    ¡°That I¡¯ll never hurt you? No, I suppose I can¡¯t.¡± His jaw works, like he¡¯s angry at the fact that he can¡¯t. ¡°But I promise that it¡¯ll never be intentional. That I¡¯ll make up for it if I do.¡±


    I look away from the fire in his eyes. My stomach feels like it¡¯s clenching so tight my muscles will be sore tomorrow. ¡°What are you suggesting?¡±


    Liam steps closer, a warm hand closing around my arm. ¡°I want all the mundane things weughed about. I want to waste my day texting with you. I want to have missionary sex. I want to go on dates, and have youugh at me, and make mistakes and apologize for them.¡±


    He¡¯s so close, so present, that he drowns out even the vastness of the ocean beyond. My breath feels short. ¡°Liam¡­¡±


    ¡°I know Jason was an asshole, and that he hurt you. But I won¡¯t.¡± He guides my hand to his chest, pulling it t against his warmth. ¡°I¡¯ve always been the happiest when I spend time with you. It was as true twenty years ago as it¡¯s been these past few weeks. I don¡¯t know how I forgot that, after I moved away from here.¡±


    I wet my lips. Forming thoughts feels difficult-forming words even more so. ¡°You chased your goals,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°I chased prestige,¡± he says. ¡°I realize that now. Ethan and I werepetitive, and there¡¯s nothing wrong with that. Butpeting now, when we¡¯re both adults and I¡¯m apparently the only one still in the contest¡­ it¡¯s mildly pathetic.¡±


    A surprisedugh slips out of me. ¡°Only mildly.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± His hand covers minepletely, warm and dry. ¡°You¡¯ve always been kinder to me than I deserve.¡±


    I look at my fingers peeking out beneath his. My nails are round, his square. His fingers long where mine are short. ¡°If you need time to think about it, I can give you that,¡± he says. ¡°Perhaps a minute or two. Maybe even five.¡±


    I snort. ¡°You were always impatient.¡±


    ¡°The worst,¡± he says, and there¡¯s something in his voice¡­ I meet the familiar green eyes, the ones that I somehowcked for a decade of my life.


    ¡°Why me, though?¡±


    His eyes widen. ¡°Haven¡¯t I just exined that? Childhood friends, excellent conversation, kindness¡­ you¡¯re funny, you know me, I feel myself when I¡¯m with you.¡±


    The wordsnd like a balm over my skin, but it doesn¡¯t stop my fear from bubbling to the surface. ¡°Liam, in the short time I¡¯ve known you again, I¡¯ve already met two women you¡¯ve been in rtionships with. You needed a fake fianc¨¦e. The jewelers knew you by name because you buy women so many gifts! That life¡¯s not for me. That lifestyle. And I can¡¯t¡­ Liam, you realize why that scares me?¡±


    His face is set in determined lines. ¡°I do. Truly, I do. But I¡¯m not Jason. I¡¯ve never once cheated on anyone, and I¡¯ll be damned if I¡¯m about to start now. Maddie-hey, Maddie, look at me. Do you know why the jewelers knew me by name?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because that¡¯s where I buy my mother¡¯s gifts. Mother¡¯s Day, birthday and Christmas. I have for years. They have her ring size and color preferences on file.¡± He smiles softly, his handing up to cup my cheek. ¡°The only woman I¡¯ve ever bought jewels for is¡­ well, you.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°Your ring,¡± he murmurs. ¡°The one we picked out together.¡±


    I swallow hard against the sudden lump in my throat. ¡°You genuinely want to be in a rtionship?¡±


    ¡°With you, yes.¡±


    My other hand joins the one on his chest, taking in the solid feel of him beneath my hands. ¡°I work a lot.¡±


    ¡°So do I,¡± he says.


    ¡°I want to open my own restaurant.¡±


    ¡°And I want to run the most sessful hedge fund in America. I don¡¯t know what we¡¯re doing here, by the way, but I¡¯m game.¡±


    I bite my lower lip to keep from smiling. ¡°Stop distracting me with jokes when we¡¯re having a serious discussion.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help it,¡± he says. ¡°The longer I can keep you from saying what I pray you won¡¯t, the better.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m about to turn you down?¡±


    The smile on his lips doesn¡¯t meet his eyes. ¡°Aren¡¯t you, though?¡±


    ¡°No. No, Liam, I¡­¡± Shaking my head, I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. They¡¯re frozen in surprise under mine.


    But then he kisses me back so sweetly that it aches, hands tightening around my waist. ¡°I¡¯m not turning you down,¡± I murmur. ¡°Even if I¡¯m still annoyed at you for not showing up yesterday.¡±


    His smile is one of genuine relief. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll let you cook me lunch every day for a week as penance.¡±


    Laughing, I push at his chest. He staggers back without a shred of hurt on his face.


    ¡°That¡¯s not punishment!¡±


    ¡°Then make me your prisoner,¡± he teases, hands circling my wrists like manacles. ¡°Do whatever you want to me.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like something you¡¯d dislike.¡± My chest feels light, airy, echoey. ¡°This is scary, Liam.¡±


    ¡°Being with me?¡±


    ¡°Being with anyone. I¡¯d sworn it off after Jason, not letting myself¡­ I promised I wouldn¡¯t get attached to anyone, but here I am.¡±


    Long fingers slide under my jaw, tipping my head back. Goose bumps dance across my skin. ¡°You¡¯re attached to me?¡±


    ¡°Dreadfully,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to stop.¡±


    ¡°I hope you never do, because Maddie, I think I¡¯m awfully attached to you too.¡±


    I give a mock shudder, swaying closer to him. ¡°What are we going to do about that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admits, his warm breath ghosting across my lips. ¡°We¡¯ve been careless.¡±


    ¡°The worst.¡±


    ¡°Just like when we were kids.¡±


    ¡°At least there were no broken bones this time.¡±


    ¡°Just an impaled hand.¡± His fingers slide through mine, grazing the edge of the gauze. ¡°How¡¯s the injury?¡±


    ¡°Will you just kiss me again?¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Now who¡¯s impatient?¡± he murmurs, but he¡¯s smiling, lowering his face to mine. It starts out gentle, but like so often between us, the kiss soon grows heated. His hair is soft through my fingers and his body firm against mine. He¡¯s a mile away from the boy I¡¯d known-and I¡¯m not the same girl, either-and yet he¡¯s everything I remember. Everything I want.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 68

    Here, on the cliffs where we¡¯d once dared each other to move closer and closer to the edge.


    We¡¯re still daring each other, only the edge is one another.


    It¡¯s the scariest thing I¡¯ve ever done. But as I¡¯ve learned these weeks, the scariest things are often the absolute best things for us-like confronting an ex, following a dream, or epting a wild card of a man.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    My lips are swollen when Liam finally raises his head. His eyes ze with barely controlled desire, the echoes of it making my legs weak. His hand slides down to my uninjured one. ¡°Come on,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Let¡¯s go talk to your parents.¡±


    ¡°My parents?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think you were the only one I came here to see, did you? Oh, you did. How embarrassing.¡±


    Laughing, I shove him again. He doesn¡¯t move an inch. ¡°You¡¯d think a man as smart as you would be nicer to the woman who just forgave him.¡±


    ¡°I should be, shouldn¡¯t I? I think it¡¯s the relief. It¡¯s making me giddy.¡± His arm reaches across my waist, pulling me into his side. ¡°I¡¯ve missed having you here.¡±


    ¡°On the crook of your arm?¡±


    He¡¯s being ridiculous, and yet my smile is stered to my face like a painting. ¡°Remember this?¡± I ask him, pulling us to a stop outside the house next to us. It¡¯s gotten new shutters, but otherwise it looks pretty much the same as when he¡¯d lived there.


    ¡°Of course I do,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I can even see my bedroom window.¡±


    ¡°An elderly couple lives there now. I know for a fact that your bedroom has been converted to a-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡±


    ¡°-knitting studio.¡±


    He exhales. ¡°Could be worse, I suppose. Could¡¯ve been used as a sex dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it still is,¡± I suggest. ¡°Knitting meets sex? There¡¯s something kinky there, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    His lowugh sends a shiver down my spine. ¡°That reminds me, we have so many things left to explore.¡±


    ¡°Nothing with knitting needles, I hope?¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t rule anything out prematurely,¡± he says. ¡°What if-oh.¡±


    My mom is standing on the porch, the front door open behind her. ¡°I wasing out to tell you there¡¯s freshly made lemonade, and what do I find?¡± she asks, surprise and delight clear on her features. ¡°Liam Carter?¡±


    He leaves my side to stride forward, a hand extended. ¡°It¡¯s me. It¡¯s so good to see you again, Luci.¡±


    Mom¡¯s smile is wider than it had been when I¡¯d arrived. ¡°Look at you! All grown up, and so handsome, too. But I always knew you¡¯d grow into your features.¡±


    Both of themugh,pletely unashamed. Me? Well, apparently your mother can still embarrass you, even when you¡¯re thirty.


    ¡°John!¡± Mom calls. ¡°You have to get out here! You¡¯ll never believe who stopped by for a visit!¡±


    What follows is a flurry of fond hellos andmentary, of my parents¡¯ beaming smiles. Liam handles it all like a pro, but there¡¯s slight wonder on his face, like he¡¯s surprised by the warmth of the reception.


    Had he forgotten? My parents had once considered him half theirs.


    ¡°Did youe down from Seattle to see Maddie?¡± Mom asks.


    ¡°I did. I made a mistake the other day and needed to apologize in person.¡± He grins, looking over at me. ¡°She¡¯s forgiven me, I think.¡±


    Mom puts a hand on his arm like he¡¯s the injured party. ¡°Of course she has. The two of you are friends.¡±


    ¡°We are,¡± he agrees.


    At that, I slide my hand through his and ignore our audience. His fingers tighten around mine in eptance.


    And my parents don¡¯t react to the gesture at all.


    ¡°That¡¯s a nice car you got there,¡± Dad says, nodding to the sleek vehicle parked on the street.


    ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Liam protests. ¡°I never drive it.¡±


    Mom pulls us both into the house, waving away the question that surely hovered on Dad¡¯s tongue. ¡°Come on, you two. Let¡¯s get Liam something to eat before he gets pestered with questions about turbo drives.¡±


    Therge hand wrapped around mine squeezes, and I squeeze it back.


    Liam¡¯s hand trails down my thigh, fingers soft against my skin. ¡°Imagine that,¡± he murmurs. ¡°You came, and there wasn¡¯t a knitting needle in sight.¡±


    Laughing, I grab one of my pillows and cover my face. It does nothing to shield me from the touch of skilled fingers over sensitive skin.


    ¡°This might be the best game we¡¯ve ever yed,¡± hements.


    ¡°So this is all a game to you,¡± I tease, tossing the pillow away. ¡°I knew you¡¯d misspeak sooner orter.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re just waiting for me to?¡± Liam kisses my hipbone, his five-o¡¯clock shadow roughening my skin.


    I run my hands through his hair. ¡°Mhm. But I¡¯ll tell you a secret.¡±


    ¡°Please do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m hoping you won¡¯t.¡±


    Grinning, Liam turns over on his back and pulls me along with him. My hand ttens against his hard chest, the smattering of faint hair beneath. ¡°I have no ns of screwing this up again. I like you too much.¡±


    The words spread like a warm wave through my chest, joining the list of things I¡¯ve learned over the past week. Like how he loves having sex sitting against the headboard, with me in hisp, so we can talk. And if I narrate what he¡¯s doing to me-what he makes me feel-he loses controlpletely, exploding with deep, shuddering breaths that leave me giddy. I¡¯ve learned that the best way to lure him away from work is with promises of food or me, preferablybined.


    But most of all, I¡¯ve learned that it¡¯s scary to try to trust someone again, but that these moments are worth it-when his heart beats strongly beneath my fingers and the silence is light withfort.


    I walk my fingers up to the strong jaw resting above me. ¡°I like you too,¡± I admit. ¡°It¡¯s like my childhood crush on steroids.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°They should put that on Hallmark cards.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps they already do.¡± I nestle closer into the strength of his body and refuse to look at the clock on the wall. Just a little while longer.

 Billion Dollar Fiance 69

    ¡°Have you heard anything?¡±


    I keep my eyes closed. ¡°Do you think I would be able to keep quiet about it if I had?¡±


    He runs fingers through my hair, and if I¡¯d been a cat, I¡¯d be purring. ¡°No. Not really your strong suit, that. I hope your neighbors haven¡¯t minded all the screams this week.¡±


    ¡°We haven¡¯t been that loud,¡± I protest.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t, no. You have.¡±


    Groaning, I bury my head against his chest and feel the rumble of hisughter. ¡°And don¡¯t you dare apologize for it-I won¡¯t, either. Hearing you scream my name might just be the best thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±


    I mumble something unintelligible.


    ¡°Yes, brilliant idea,¡± Liam continues. ¡°I¡¯ll record it next time and make it my ringtone.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely ridiculous.¡±Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yes. Just one of many things you do to me.¡±


    I rise up on an elbow, meeting his green eyes with my own. ¡°There¡¯s a sd in the fridge for you for lunch, and you know I¡¯ll tell you as soon as I hear anything from the culinary institute.¡±


    ¡°This sounds like the prelude to a goodbye.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you know that I-¡±


    I¡¯m cut off with a kiss, and I surrender for a while, skin against skin and lips against lips. I¡¯m breathing hard when I finally pull back. ¡°I¡¯ll bete for my shift if I don¡¯t leave soon.¡±


    ¡°Do you have to work on weekends?¡± Liam says, groaning as I sit up in bed. ¡°That means I¡¯ll have no excuse but to work too.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but you love to work.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I like spending time with you more. Perhaps I¡¯lle to Marco¡¯s and work.¡±


    I open the door to my closet and rummage through a drawer for underwear. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare. There¡¯s a strict noptop policy in the restaurant.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll break it for me,¡± Liam says, throwing an arm behind his head. His smile is crooked. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t be there.¡±


    ¡°Going to your brother¡¯s again?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Apparently he needed support with the kids-Be is with her parents for the day.¡±


    I smile, doing up the buttons to my jeans. ¡°Those girls must have the both of you wrapped around their little fingers.¡±


    ¡°They do. It¡¯s ridiculous.¡±


    I tug a sweater over my head. ¡°That reminds me, actually. If I write a letter, do you have a way of getting it to Albert Walker? Do you have his address?¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes turn serious. ¡°I do, yes. But you don¡¯t have to. I¡¯m the one who-¡±


    ¡°I want to. I was party to it, too. And I want to write and thank him and his wife for inviting me to their cabin, for the kindness they showed me.¡±


    He frowns, watching me as I run a brush through my hair. ¡°I don¡¯t deserve you.¡±


    ¡°We deserve each other,¡± I say. ¡°And we won¡¯t make the same mistake again. Have you spoken to him since you saw himst week?¡±


    Liam shakes his head. ¡°I think it¡¯ll be a while before I do. I made it clear to him, at least, that my actions werepletely unbeknownst to Cole. I hope it doesn¡¯t affect their business rtionship.¡±


    Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I smooth back tousled hair from his forehead. This past week has been blissful, in many ways, but I know Liam has kept most of his guilt and doubts from me. I¡¯ve done the same to him. ¡°You¡¯ll make it right,¡± I murmur. ¡°I know you will. It might take time, but that¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°I suppose it is.¡± He sits up in bed with a groan, wrapping a strong arm around my waist. ¡°Let me take you out tonight, after your shift.¡±


    ¡°Take me out?¡±


    ¡°Yes. A proper date, just you and me. I¡¯ll let you pick the restaurant.¡±


    ¡°I finish at six.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be outside.¡±


    I arrive at Marco¡¯s with just enough time to change into my chef jacket before my shift starts. Jason isn¡¯t working today-which makes an already good day five times better.


    Alma shoots me a knowing smile when I join her on prep.


    ¡°He¡¯s managed to worm his way back into your good graces, has he?¡±


    Smiling, I reach for a cutting board of my own. ¡°Liam can be very convincing when he needs to be.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s for sure.¡± Alma shakes her head, her knife working at a blinding pace. ¡°I overheard Jason asking Enrique the other day if he¡¯d heard anything about you and your investor.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± I say, my smile still in ce. ¡°Do you know something?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m done thinking about what Jason knows and doesn¡¯t know, about whether he¡¯s jealous or not.¡±


    Alma¡¯s grin matches my own. ¡°Finally,¡± she says. ¡°The man is trash.¡±


    I snort. ¡°He is¡­ and besides, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be working together much longer.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Have you gotten any offers?¡±


    ¡°No, but I¡¯m donepromising for his sake. One of us is going, because I want him out of my life for good.¡±


    ¡°Who knew getting fake engaged would be so good for you?¡±


    I bite my lip to keep from smiling, ncing over my shoulder to where Marco is working in his office. ¡°It should be prescribed as treatment far more often,¡± I say.


    It¡¯s nearly an hourter when Marco calls my name, leaning against the doorway. ¡°Maddie?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Chef?¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 70

    ¡°Can I see you in my office for a moment?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Chef.¡± Alma and I share curious nces before I head into Marco¡¯s office. He hasn¡¯t spoken a word about the culinary institute finals in the past week, and out of respect for his neutrality, I haven¡¯t mentioned them either.


    ¡°Have a seat,¡± he says, nodding to the chair in front of his desk.


    I sink into it. ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, couldn¡¯t be better.¡± He folds his hands together on his desk. ¡°I thought it a perfect time for us to have a little chat.¡±


    Crossing my legs, I try to projectpetent ease. ¡°Sounds good to me.¡±


    ¡°You see, contrary to what most of the staff believes, I¡¯m not ignorant about what goes on in my restaurant.¡±


    Okay then.


    ¡°Of course you¡¯re not.¡±


    His lips quirk. ¡°Both you and Jason are good chefs. I was pleased to see that you both applied for the fellowship.¡±


    My hands feel sweaty. ¡°Thank you, Chef.¡±


    ¡°The recognition, assistance and, to be frank, financial aid thates with the fellowship can make a huge difference in your budding careers.¡±


    I give a slow nod. ¡°So I figured, yes.¡±


    He leans back in his chair, eyes appraising. ¡°As someone who works with you both, I¡¯m sure you understood that I had be impartial at the judging.¡±


    My stomach sinks at the words. I don¡¯t think I can handle him letting me down gently, or seeing kindness in a face that usually barks orders.


    ¡°Yes, Chef. Can¡¯t have been an easy position.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s the thing. You two made it brilliantly easy to be impartial.¡±


    My hands fidget with the sleeve of my jacket. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I have no difficulty telling a cook and a chef apart. One follows orders, the other creates. One executes, the other is a visionary. That one¡¯s you, Madison.¡±


    There are no words.


    Perhaps he sees that, because Marco gives me an unexpected, rare grin. He nces at his watch. ¡°Let¡¯s hope they got the timing right on their end¡­ I think you should check your emails right now.¡±


    ¡°Right now, Chef?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I know you sometimes keep your phone in your back pocket.¡± He¡¯s smiling though, even as he makes it clear he knows the crew often vite the no-phone-while-on-duty rule.


    Swallowing, I fish it out and unlock it with trembling fingers. There¡¯s a notification on my email app.


    I nce from it to Marco, who¡¯s grinning like a Cheshire cat.


    Click.Content ? provided by N?velDrama.Org.


    The subject line is enough for my world to spin.


    Congrattions, Ms. Webb. We¡¯re happy to inform you that-


    It¡¯s all I need to see before I¡¯m up and out of the chair, throwing myself around the desk to hug Marco. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it!¡±


    He¡¯s stiff with surprise, but then an armes around me. ¡°Your food was the best. And before you need to worry if I was a biased voter, the jury was unanimous.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I can¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t¡­ Christ.¡± I put a hand to my forehead, feeling like I¡¯ve run a sprint. ¡°I¡¯ve learnt so much from you.¡±


    His smile is wide. ¡°I look forward to eating at your own restaurant one day, Chef.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I look forward to serving you, Chef.¡± My grin feels ten feet wide, a hundred. I open my mouth to ask when Jason will find out, only to find the words dying on my lips. I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t care what his reaction is, or if he¡¯ll take it out on me, on the restaurant.


    I was just awarded the Washington Culinary Institute Fellowship.


    And I¡¯m going to open my own restaurant. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But it¡¯s happening sooner rather thanter, and there is no chance in hell that my past is going to stand in my way.


    When I meet Liam outside the restaurant after my shift, I throw myself at him. He wraps his arms around my waist, delighted surprise on his face. ¡°What¡¯s this? Did you miss me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I grin. ¡°Well, yes, I did. But I got some good news.¡±


    His face grows still. ¡°You¡¯re not serious.¡±


    ¡°I am. I ampletely, utterly, more serious than I¡¯ve ever been before.¡±


    ¡°You got the fellowship?¡± His eyes begin to burn, the emerald color swirling with warmth. ¡°Holy shit, Maddie, of course you did!¡±


    He swings me around and I grab a hold of his shoulders,ughter and happiness coursing through my body. I¡¯m sure we¡¯re blocking people on the sidewalk, but if we are, I don¡¯t care.


    ¡°You know what this means.¡±


    He kisses me soundly. ¡°We need to celebrate. Come on, let¡¯s go find a knitting store.¡±


    Laughing, I slide my hand through his. ¡°Lead the way, you idiot.¡±


    Epilogue


    A few monthster


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this space perfect? Not too big, not too small. And look, there¡¯s a nook in that corner where I could install a booth. Only one booth might look strange, though.¡± Maddie frowns at the brick-covered wall. ¡°No, I changed my mind. It won¡¯t. It¡¯ll look eclectic and hip.¡±


    I grin at her. ¡°Do we still refer to things as ¡®hip¡¯ these days?¡±


    ¡°Good point,¡± she says, walking into the adjoining kitchen. ¡°Oh, this is so outdated. I¡¯ll have to change all of the appliances and install new counters.¡±


    I duck under a wooden beam. ¡°But the ce has charm and some real potential, Maddie.¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 71

    ¡°You think?¡± Her smile is bright over her shoulder. ¡°You have to like it too, Mr. Partner.¡±


    ¡°I do like it, Miss Partner. Besides, the location is perfect, and that¡¯s the only thing we can¡¯t change. Go crazy on the inside.¡±


    Maddie smiles, stepping closer. ¡°That¡¯s not very romantic of you. You¡¯re supposed toment on the atmosphere, the vibe. The history of the ce. That¡¯s what¡¯ll really make a restaurant pop.¡±


    I frown in pretend confusion. ¡°I thought it was the food?¡±


    Chuckling, she leans into me. ¡°That too, you idiot.¡±


    I press a kiss to her forehead. ¡°Well, you¡¯re the one who has to say it, Maddie, but I think this might be the one.¡±This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    She takes my hand and pulls me out into the space. The storefront isrge enough to sit a decent amount of people without losing any sense of intimacy.


    ¡°It¡¯s the one,¡± she deres. ¡°God, can you believe we¡¯re really about to do this?¡±


    The smile on her face is everything. It¡¯s what I¡¯ve tried to bring forth over and over again in the past couple of months; it¡¯s what she bestows on me freely, several times a day.


    It¡¯s my anchor and my light.


    ¡°I can, mostly because I believe in you.¡±


    ¡°The fellowship will help in getting press about this ce. We could have culinary critics booking tables for opening night.¡± Her eyes widen. ¡°Oh God, I¡¯ll have to cook for critics.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ll wow them all,¡± I say. ¡°Did Alma say yes to joining you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s practically as excited as I am!¡±


    I grin. Maddie¡¯s friend has grown on me in the past months. ¡°Good. You two are a good team.¡±


    ¡°Just like us,¡± she says, sliding her arms around my neck. ¡°Are you sure going into business together is a good idea?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I cup her cheek, using my thumb to brush back a strand of dark, silky hair. ¡°I have absolutely no idea if it is. But you and I always find a way to make bad ideas into good ones.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re good at that.¡±


    ¡°The best,¡± I agree. ¡°Do you want to know something else?¡±


    She cocks her head, so beautiful that it tears at my heart. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I love you.¡±


    Smiling, she kisses me with a sweetness I never thought I¡¯de to crave. Now I know I can¡¯t live without it.


    ¡°I love you too,¡± she murmurs, and damn if those aren¡¯t the best words a man can hear. Once I¡¯d thought it was I need you. It¡¯s still a close second, but only from her.


    I lift my head from hers. ¡°Do you remember the engagement ring?¡±


    Her brow furrows. ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember how you thought it was too ostentatious in the beginning?¡±


    She draws back, eyes intent on mine. ¡°Yeah, I remember.¡±


    ¡°You got used to it by the end.¡± I make my tone nonchnt, my arm around her waist. ¡°Was that an act, or the truth?¡±


    Maddie wets her lips. ¡°What are you really asking here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing. I¡¯m just trying to figure out if you genuinely liked that ring or if you¡¯d prefer something else.¡±


    I shrug, turning us around toward the front door. ¡°I¡¯m just making conversation, Maddie.¡±


    ¡°Sure you are. Besides, you returned the ring, right?¡±


    ¡°Did I?¡± I frown, holding open the door for her. ¡°I remember saying I intended to, but I¡¯m not sure if I ever did. I¡¯m a busy man, you know.¡±


    ¡°Liam!¡± Maddie bumps into me, her wide smile back. The love in her eyes threatens to undo me. ¡°You can¡¯t tease me like this!¡±


    ¡°Oh, but it¡¯s what I do best!¡± I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lead us toward the car. ¡°Come on, you budding restaurateur. We¡¯rete for lunch at Cole¡¯s, and I¡¯m all out of ring secrets to share.¡±


    Sheughs, leaning into my side. It¡¯s the perfect fit. ¡°For the record, it wasn¡¯t an act. I did end up liking the ring. But-¡±


    ¡°Good to know.¡±


    ¡°-that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not too ostentatious.¡±


    I snort. One day in the future, I¡¯ll have to make Maddie aware of just how much money is no longer an issue for me-and won¡¯t be for her, either, once she lets me. Once we be a we in a more permanent way than now.


    But one step at a time.


    ¡°You deserve nothing but the best,¡± I tell her instead. ¡°After all, you chose me, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Herughter warms me down to my very soul.


    The drive to Greenwood Hills is routine, now, as I¡¯ve made the trip nearly once a week in the past months. I¡¯m parking on Cole¡¯s driveway when Maddie clears her throat in a very un-Maddie way.


    ¡°So, your mother told me something the other week, actually,¡± she says. ¡°I forgot to tell you right away.¡±


    ¡°What was it this time?¡±


    ¡°Not a talk about the birds and the bees, I promise. No, it was about you and Ethan.¡±


    My hands flex on the wheel. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°She said the two of you are so simr. ¡®My boys always fought,¡¯ she said, ¡®because they¡¯re more twins than brothers.''¡±


    I¡¯m quiet for a beat. ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Maddie murmurs. ¡°I just thought you¡¯d want to know.¡±


    I put a hand on her knee. ¡°I¡¯ve never thought of it that way before.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± she says. ¡°But it rang true to me when I heard it.¡±


    The words settle in me, and I know I¡¯ll have to revisit the thought. Perhaps looking at it that way exins more than I¡¯ve let myself consider.


    We make our way to the Porters¡¯ backyard and Maddie slides her hand through mine.


    She snorts, never the one to admit such a thing. ¡°No.¡± But then, ¡°Only, I haven¡¯t really spoken to your business partners, with the exception of Ethan, since the whole¡­ fake engagement thing went south.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, they don¡¯t hold it over your head,¡± I say. They had held it over mine, but even then, it had been brief. I¡¯d made it clear I¡¯d never pull a stunt like that again. They¡¯d made it clear that one would not be tolerated.


    And then we¡¯d moved on.


    ¡°Besides,¡± I tease, ¡°you¡¯ve spent enough time with me now that they can¡¯t be intimidating anymore, right?¡±


    Maddie chuckles. ¡°What, because you¡¯re so intimidating? I think you might just be drunk on your own importance.¡±


    ¡°Love has made me confident,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s really your fault.¡±


    ¡°Oh, is it?¡± She shifts closer to me, voice lower. ¡°If my love is that powerful, I wonder what else I can make you do?¡±

 Billion Dollar Fiance 72

    I pretend to shiver. ¡°Anything.¡±


    She opens her mouth, but we¡¯re cut off by a child¡¯s exmation. ¡°Uncle Liam! Maddie!¡±


    Haven and Evie dance toward us, leaving a staggering toddler behind on thewn. Skye holds on to Isaac¡¯s hands, the small boy following my nieces intently with his gaze.


    ¡°Hi, you two,¡± Skye says. ¡°d you could make it.¡±


    ¡°Sorry we¡¯rete,¡± Maddie says. ¡°We were looking at a space in town for a new restaurant.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how exciting!¡±Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org.


    I leave them to chitchat-or more rightly, they leave me, seeing as I¡¯m inundated with questions from two small girls about whether or not I¡¯d brought them candy. It was something I¡¯d started a few weeks back but been forced to stop when Ethan used me of bribing them.


    Hey, I¡¯m a man who uses any means I can.


    Scooping Evie up, I grab Haven¡¯s hand. ¡°Where are your parents?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re over here,¡± Haven says, pulling me along. ¡°Come, I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    Cole and Nick are standing by the grill, Ethan sitting on the patio chair beyond. Both Be and ir are there too, one dark and one blonde.


    ¡°Hey, man.¡± Ethan nods at me, lifting Evie from my arms. She immediately scrambles off him.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Lucas?¡± she asks.


    ¡°He¡¯s sleeping,¡± Be responds, a hand on the baby carrier next to her.


    ¡°Still?¡±


    ¡°Babies sleep a lot.¡±


    ¡°One day you¡¯ll wish he slept more,¡± I tell Evie, reaching out to muss her honey-colored curls. ¡°He¡¯ll never stop bothering you.¡±


    Her eyes widen, like this is a new concept. But then her mouth stretches into a wide, front-tooth-less grin. ¡°Like me with Haven.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    She dances away from us, running across the grass to share this new revtion with her big sister-proving my very point. One of the dogs rises from his sprawl to follow her.


    Ethan looks from me to Maddie, still with Skye and Lucas in the distance. ¡°Everything all right?¡±


    I nod. ¡°We looked at a potential space for the restaurant. I asked what engagement ring she likes. The usual, you know.¡±


    My brother grins and hands me a beer. ¡°Getting ready to ask her?¡±


    Taking a sip, I shake my head. ¡°Not yet. We¡¯ll take things slow, but¡­ soon enough.¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have chosen someone better, you know,¡± he says. ¡°There¡¯s something about marrying your neighbor that just works.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Our situations aren¡¯t remotely simr.¡±


    ¡°In that regard, they are.¡± Ethan puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes, his grin widening. ¡°Great job on the recent investment, by the way. We were just discussing the numbers.¡±


    Cole drops down into the chair next to mine, a beer dangling from his fingers. ¡°The energypany? Unreal. How did you know they¡¯d double in value?¡±


    ¡°I ran the numbers.¡±


    He shakes his head, grinning. ¡°I was right about hiring you. I¡¯ve told you it was my idea, haven¡¯t I?¡±


    Ethan groans next to me. ¡°Is there anything you won¡¯t try to im credit for?¡±


    Cole considers for a moment. ¡°The big things are off-limits, I suppose. Gravity. Sunlight. Inventing antibiotics.¡±


    ¡°You have no shame.¡± Nick sits down next to his wife, throwing an arm along the back of the bench. ir settles more firmly into his side.


    ¡°Still a lie, brother,¡± she points out. ¡°You once tried to convince me you were responsible for the full moon.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ir rolls her eyes. ¡°He had a calendar with the lunar cycle, but he didn¡¯t share that little secret with me.¡±


    Cole¡¯s grin is shameless. Skyees up behind him, their wriggling toddler in her arms. ¡°What have you now done?¡± she asks her husband. ¡°And can you do it while entertaining your son?¡±


    Isaac settles in his father¡¯sp, his hands instantly seeking out his dad¡¯s gold watch. Cole indulges him, unsnapping it and putting it into small, grabby hands.


    ¡°He has good taste in toys,¡± hements.


    My eyes stray to Maddie as she makes her way into the circle. She sits down next to me, her hair falling like a dark waterfall around her face.


    How did I get so lucky?


    ¡°Hi guys,¡± she says to everyone and no one, crossing her legs. ¡°What are we talking about?¡±


    ¡°I have a topic,¡± Cole says.


    Nick rolls his eyes. ¡°Of course you do.¡±


    Bouncing his son on his knee, he looks from me to Maddie and back again. ¡°I spoke to the old Mr. Walker the other day.¡±


    Maddie¡¯s hand tightens around mine. I know she hadn¡¯t expected a reply to the letter she sent months ago, but she¡¯d wanted one, regardless.


    ¡°Oh?¡± I ask. ¡°What did he say?¡±


    ¡°Well, here¡¯s the thing. I mentioned that the two of you are together now.¡±


    Cole grins. ¡°He was very pleased with that. Hell, I even told him to go ahead and im all the credit for it. He got a real kick out of that.¡±


    For a moment, I just blink at him. ¡°Wow. Just when you think nothing can surprise you anymore.¡±


    Cole¡¯s eyes settle on Maddie. ¡°He told me to say congrattions on your fellowship, and that he looks forward to dining in your own restaurant one day.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Maddie murmurs, turning to look at me. There¡¯s relief and joy in her eyes, and I know she can let go of thest of her guilt. ¡°That¡¯s amazing.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± I agree, squeezing her hand with mine. ¡°He can be one of the opening night guests.¡±


    She opens her mouth to respond, but her words are drowned out by a loud shriek as Haven and Evie barrel into the gathering, Strike on their heels.


    Evie throws herself across myp, while Haven rocks on her heels, looking at Maddie. ¡°We¡¯ve been thinking,¡± she deres.


    ¡°Oh no. What have youe up with now?¡±


    My nieces share a nce that can only be described as conspiratorial. ¡°It¡¯s a question,¡± Evie adds.


    ¡°Okay, shoot.¡±


    Haven narrows her eyes. ¡°Now that you have a girlfriend, Uncle Liam, are we finally getting cousins?¡±


    The othersugh, but I just groan and throw my head back against the headrest. They¡¯ll never stop this nagging. Maddie¡¯s hand squeezes mine, but it¡¯s her answering words that make my heart constrict in my chest.


    ¡°You might be,¡± she says, ¡°but not yet. You¡¯ll have to be patient.¡±


    I squeeze her fingers in return, and for the first time, the prospect of starting a family of my own appeals to me. Maddie was my first friend, my first crush, the one I could always trust to have my back. Yearster, nothing has changed on that front. There¡¯s no one I¡¯d rather go on the adventure called life with.


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