Billionaires Dollar Series

“Fine,” I grumble. “Be that way.” But I’m smiling at him the entire way back into my closet. The black, 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 the last question.” I lie, slipping my feet into the nude heels. One last look in the mirror tells me I’ve chosen correctly. The dress had been an expensive purchase, but it’s made for occasions 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?”Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

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 plays in the spacious lobby, the notes rising to the glazed ceiling above. An attendant hands me a glass 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 place 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 only laughs. “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 Blair, 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 glance from Nick’s all-black 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 playfulness. “I told Blair that today was my day to wear black,” 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 play 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, but launch 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 glass 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 explanation for why the words tumble out of my mouth. I haven’t told anyone, but here I am, telling her.

“I’m planning a brand launch.” 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?”

I laugh, 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 glass 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.”

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.”