Billionaires Dollar Series

“That’s right,” Nick says. “We’ve known each other for what, eight years now, Blair?”

“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 body language 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 place to discuss business,” Mr. Adams retorts. The two men at his side both look away, clearly uncomfortable 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 relax!”

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 place. “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 calculation. “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 his company? Buy out his board? Tank his stocks?”

Nick narrows his eyes at me. “You don’t need to know,” he says, articulating 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 and last time you use my name to boost your reputation.”

“Trust me, it’s definitely the last 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 plan?”

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 the lawn before he has a chance to answer. How much easier my life would be if my brother hadn’t decided to become best friends with the least friendly man on the planet. Infuriating, maddening, and absolutely impossible to ignore.

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 Nicholas 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 place of burning curiosity and genuine interest.

Because handsome was far too tame a word for Nicholas Park. There was a slight crook to his nose that gave his face character; his black 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 years later, 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 playing 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.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

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 glasses 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 planned 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.