Billionaires Dollar Series

I notice the men glancing 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 blame them. The red dress on Maddie, coupled with the fall of her black 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 I come 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 the last 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 fiancée-not to mention my soon-to-be-ex-fiancée.

“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.”Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

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 place.”

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 player riffs a solo somewhere behind us.

I order an Old-Fashioned for myself and a champagne for the lady. 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 flames.

“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 black 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 flare 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 black again.”

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 plays 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?