The Billionaire Book Club

by Monroe, Max

  I nod and then look down at my menu. “Yes, thanks.”

  I can feel her there staring at me, but I don’t look up until she’s gone. My smile has a way of saying things for me—a feature I mostly cherish—but in this case, I have to be careful with it.

  I’m all about women—every flavor of them, but I do have limits.

  And just barely eighteen is way too low for my standards.

  Impressionable, young, and too naïve has never been and will never be on my agenda.

  The young girl finally makes her way back to the front, and I peel my eyes away from the table to look at the space around me.

  Reflective silver plating covers the top half of the walls and, right below the ceiling, neon signs make a border around the space.

  Little flying pigs line the wall where the plating meets the tile below it, and the booths are covered in a shimmery silver and black vinyl.

  Most are empty, save an older man three booths to my right and a curled mass of blond hair three booths in front of me.

  I’m just about to look back at the menu when I notice the curled-up blonde’s familiar bag, and the quote Tell your dog I said hi stares back at me from above the front pocket.

  No way… Not even I’m that lucky…

  She shifts to the side and leans into her hand, picking her hair up out of her face and tossing it over her shoulder before yawning.

  The exquisite, petite, and very recognizable lines of her pretty face damn near punch me in the stomach.

  Holy hell. I guess I am that lucky.

  Ruby Rockford. Here, in the middle of the night.

  I guess this night isn’t going to be so bad after all…

  Headphones in place again, she’s concentrating hard on the textbook in front of her and sipping on a cup of coffee or tea. I can’t tell which, but when a waitress finally comes over to greet me, I get an idea.

  “What can I get you, honey?” the older woman asks through a mouthful of pink chewing gum.

  “A black coffee and a slice of apple pie for me…and…”

  The waitress raises her eyebrows. “You wouldn’t happen to know what she’s drinking, would you?” I ask, pointing discreetly to Ruby.

  “Hot chocolate.”

  I feel myself smile at the unexpected answer.

  “Send her another one from me?”

  The tired woman pops her gum between her teeth, nods, and heads for the back.

  And me? Well, I go back to studying Ruby like a little voyeur. She’s still fully focused, and a small line creases the space between her eyebrows. Her eyes are down, but the length of her lashes stands out even from ten feet away. And the way she’s wrapped up in her oversized sweatshirt makes me want to explore what’s underneath it even more.

  She’s not my usual type—the obvious sexpot with high heels and a low neckline—but undoubtedly, she’s still somehow sexier.

  Her big eyes, plush lips, and high cheekbones stand out from the rest of her delicate face.

  I’ve never seen features like hers, even after all the years I’ve dedicated to loving all kinds of women.

  Something about her is different.

  And goddamn, I like it.

  I watch as the waitress approaches her table with a steaming new cup and sets it down next to her. She jumps at the movement and looks up in a rush to tell her she didn’t order another one when the waitress very helpfully points to me.

  Her gaze follows the path the waitress’s finger creates and, instantly, her huge eyes widen even farther, the pointy-edged ovals transforming to nearly perfect circles.

  Out of all the late-night joints in the city, she sure as shit wasn’t expecting to see me in this one.

  Of course, I wasn’t expecting to see her either.

  If I were the kind of fool who believed in fate and destiny and all of that hocus-pocus bullshit, I’d probably consider it some sort of heavenly sign.

  But I’m not that kind of bastard, so I write it off as a fortunate coincidence.

  Luck. A big fat stroke of Cap-i-tain luck.

  She yanks her headphones off in a hurry, tosses them on the table, and scowls. “Really? You’re still stalking me? Do I need to report you to the bar association?”

  God, I love how feisty she is.

  I smirk.

  “Believe it or not, this is a complete coincidence. A happy one.”

  She snorts. “Speak for yourself.”

  “I am.”

  She doesn’t react expressively, but I don’t miss the small blush that breaks out over the apples of her cheeks.

  “Look, I really did just come in for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. Most people are sleeping this time of night. I certainly didn’t expect to find you here.”

  She chews at her lip as she considers my words and then digs under the loose sleeve of her sweatshirt for her watch. “This time of night?” she questions. “What time is it?”

  “Just after three.”

  “Three?” she almost shouts, jumping up from the table and packing her stuff frantically. “Crap.” She jerks at the strap of her familiar backpack, which is stuck on the corner of the table, and then stumbles backward when it lets go unexpectedly, mid-pull.

  “Hey, hey,” I say, standing from the booth and covering the distance between us quickly enough to steady her on her feet. “Where’s the fire? Time’s not going backward, so no matter where you’re supposed to be, you might as well calm down.”

  “I’m not supposed to be anywhere but sleeping,” she remarks. “I have to be up at five, and I didn’t realize how late it was.”

  “You’ve got two hours. That’s plenty.”

  She snorts. “Two hours is not plenty of sleep.”

  I shrug. “It’s probably what I get on most nights.”

  “Yes, but you’re a vampire,” she says casually, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “You know, I might be.”

  I look down at the book in her arm and read off the title on the spine. “Corporate Climate: Understanding the Principles of Case Context. A little light reading, I see.”

  She actually cracks a smile. “I have a mock trial coming up. I’m trying to be as well versed as possible.”

  “I could help, you know…” I pause and eye her knowingly. “In fact, if you came and worked for me, the experience itself would help. I’ll show you all sorts of things.”

  “Oh, I just bet you will.”

  Damn, her smart mouth might be my favorite thing about her.

  “As much as I’m digging the way your mind obviously works, my offer is completely innocent.”

  She scoffs. “Uh-huh. Sure, it is.”

  I shake my head as I reach out to take her book and tuck it under my arm. “Come on. Sit down with me. Drink your cup of hot chocolate that you already have—thank me very much—and let me help you.”

  She groans, looks at her watch again, and finally—blessedly—gives in.

  “Fine. Fine, fine, fine,” she repeats, grabbing the book back from my hands, shoving me out of the way and sliding herself and her belongings into my booth. “But if you make one comparison of law to sex, I’m out of here.”

  I cross my fingers and then cross them over my heart. “On my honor, my lady. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

  Her eyes are piercing and powerful as she meets mine head on. The contact feels like some sort of cosmic car crash. “Perfect gentleman? You don’t even know the meaning.”

  I have to bite back my grin.

  She is so, so right.

  Ruby

  Dangerous. That’s what this is.

  Sitting down in the middle of the night with Caplin Hawkins and his lascivious intentions didn’t seem like even the most remote of possibilities.

  But here I am, drinking a hot chocolate he bought for me, listening to him discuss the complexities of corporate law context.

  “Most judges are pretty time sensitive,” he says, and I can’t stop myself from stealing a glance at the way his lips mov
e with his words. They are full, firm but soft, and holy moly, those lips of his are a little too tempting for my liking.

  Snap out of it, Ruby.

  I blink five times and force myself to focus on what he is actually saying, not how good his mouth looks while saying it.

  “Obviously, if there’s a standing case somewhere you can research out of the time vortex, they have to abide by it, but most of them only remember a certain number of cases offhand. The ones they’ve experienced, through both their own court and others, the ones with enough relevance to make a lasting impact.”

  His voice lulls and dips and smooths over the rough words like calamine lotion. With how tired I am, how down my guard seems to be, it almost feels like it’s putting me at ease.

  I yawn. “Look, I appreciate all of your knowledge, but I truly think I’ve reached the point in the night where I am no longer retaining information. I’m tired, and I have to be up so soon.”

  “Where do you have to be in the morning?” he asks, and I balk.

  He notices, and being as perceptive as he is, knows exactly why right away.

  “Ah, yes. The job you won’t discuss. I really thought hooking was more of a nighttime activity, but who am I to judge?”

  I roll my eyes and, my defenses down, let a little detail slip through the cracks. “Hooking may not happen at five a.m., but that is when the recording booth opens.”

  He smiles, victorious and surprised all at once. “The recording booth, huh? Are you going to be the next big music superstar?”

  I laugh. My singing voice is terrible. “Uh, no. My best notes are something in the neighborhood of a shrieking cat and nails on a chalkboard.”

  “Okay, then…what? What do you do? You have to tell me. The suspense is killing me at this point.”

  “I just…” I groan. “I don’t tell people. I don’t really think I should tell you either.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m a steel trap!” he practically shouts. “If you only knew the things I know and don’t disclose, you wouldn’t even hesitate to tell ole Cap-i-tain.”

  I roll my eyes again. “But I’m not a client.”

  He rolls his back, takes out a dollar, hands it to me, and then physically makes my hand give it back to him. “There. You’ve now paid me to keep your secrets. Go ahead.”

  Goddamn, he’s too smooth for my own good.

  Nerves bubble in my belly, but I think it’s also a little bit of excitement. For as much as I keep my secondary career a secret, I truly love it, and it feels good to be able to share it with someone.

  “I…”

  He widens his eyes dramatically and taps his watch as I pause. “Getting closer and closer to five a.m., Ruby.”

  “Fine.” I sigh, and a shiver of eagerness runs down my spine at the same time. “I’m an audiobook narrator. For romance novels. Under a pseudonym, mind you, that I do not disclose to anyone.”

  “Really?”

  I nod.

  “That’s fucking awesome!”

  His enthusiasm is contagious, zinging through me and making me feel more awake than I have in the last week and a half, despite my lack of sleep. “I really love it. Some of these novels are so fun. It’s an unbelievable experience to bring the story off the page.”

  “Is that what you were listening to in the library? Something you narrated?”

  I shake my head. “Someone else. I like to listen to as many as I can. It helps me get better.”

  “Research always makes a stronger lawyer.”

  I wince at the reminder of my double life. “Obviously, I don’t need people knowing I do it, though.”

  He pulls his eyebrows together, and I honestly think he’s perplexed.

  “Because…why?” he asks. “There’s nothing illegal about being a narrator.”

  “People will use it against me, Caplin. And I’m already at a disadvantage in the courtroom as a woman.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Let me teach you something, Ruby. People can only use things against you if you let them. Being a narrator, being a woman, you’re better off embracing it. Use the skills you have that no one else does. That’s the real secret to it all.”

  I shake my head hard. “I don’t know.” He purses his lips, and I throw up my hands. “Look, you might be right, but I’m not ready, okay?”

  He shrugs, taking out the dollar we exchanged and waving it around. “Attorney-client privilege, remember? You have nothing to worry about.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But it’s done, right? Might as well make the best of it going forward.” He pauses for dramatic effect, waggling his eyebrows.

  I raise mine. “And I suppose you have an idea for how to make the best of it?”

  “Of course,” he says with a wink. “Tell me your stage name—”

  “Nice try, buddy.” I cut him off, and he just grins.

  “What I actually meant to say was, you should say yes to the assistant job and come work for me. I’ll be flexible about your recording schedule if I need to be, and if you need someone to test out the material on, I’ll be ready and willing.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Come on!” he says uproariously. “Can it really be that bad? That working for me is not worth its weight on your resume?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. If you’re smart at all, you’ll take the job, put my gold star on your resume, and then move on with your life.”

  “That easy, huh? I just fit you in. Like a bikini wax.”

  “Yes,” he says loudly. “Absolutely. Your calendar should just be a revolving list of me and bikini waxes.”

  “And law school and narrating and—”

  He waves me off before I can finish. “Yeah, yeah, all that too.”

  I chew on my lip and study his frisky brown eyes as they study me. They’re light and playful and, at the same time, unrelenting. If I don’t accept his offer now, he’ll just track me down and make it again. He’s like persistence’s annoying brother.

  “Fine.”

  “You’ll do it?” There’s doubt in his eyes.

  “I’ll do it,” I agree. “I don’t know why, and quite frankly, I don’t know why on earth you want me, but I’ll do it.”

  “Good. You can start tomorrow. I’ll see you at eight.”

  He acts like it’s all just that fucking simple.

  I laugh. “It already is tomorrow, and I just told you I’m recording at five.”

  “What time do you get done recording?”

  “Ten.”

  “I’ll see you at ten thirty, then.”

  “I have class at one,” I grumble. “This isn’t going to work at all.”

  “Yes, it is,” he says with a sigh. “Geez, you don’t think I’ve already thought of this stuff?”

  I laugh. “No, no, I didn’t.”

  “Well, I did. Working for me counts as an internship. Practical credit. You’re about to move into the independent study portion of your year anyway.”

  My mind calculates his words, and even as scared as I am to take this kind of a leap, I can’t disagree with him.

  If I do get internship credit from Caplin Hawkins Law, there is only one class that I would have to attend, other than my mock trials.

  “And what am I supposed to do until then?”

  “I’ll talk to your professors,” he responds without hesitation. “Hullum, Shank, Koontz, and Marisol. Trust me, Ruby, I know all of your third-year professors. Very well, actually.”

  “Um, no. I don’t want you doing that. What if I miss material? What if I don’t—”

  “Relaaaaax,” he groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus. I’ll teach you all of it. Trust me, you’re going to learn a whole lot more working for me than you are in one of those classrooms.”

  I glance up in suspicion, and he puts his hands up in surrender. “Just show up after work in the morning, and I’ll take care of the rest, okay?”

  I heave a deep sigh and consider it. I�
��ll never get an opportunity like this again. Ever. I mean, he’s one of the best lawyers in the country, for God’s sake, and he’s begging me to work for him. I’d be such a fool not to do this.

  “You really think my professors will be okay with this?”

  “I’m certain of it.”

  God, how does he make it pretty much impossible to say no?

  It’s like a fucking superpower.

  “Okay,” I finally agree. “But if I don’t learn enough to pass the bar, I’m going to find the nearest witch and put a penis hex on you.” I drop my voice to low and serious. “Never to sleep with a woman again.”

  “Wow,” he says through a soft chuckle. “You’re evil.” I smirk, and his smile deepens. “Man, I kind of love it.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t get any ideas. We’re working together—that’s it.”

  “Of course,” he says, a perfect picture of innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of anything else, Ruby.”

  That’s good. Just what I want.

  The only problem is…I don’t know if he can honestly say the same.

  But are you sure that’s the only problem? Because this man sure has a way of disarming you…

  I shake off the absurd thoughts and write them off as confusion from lack of sleep.

  I’d have to take a rock to the head before I’d even come close to falling for Caplin Hawkins’s cocky, charming swagger and smooth-talking ways.

  Cap

  When I get to work at five a.m., I turn on the lights in the hall of my office and take a stroll to the kitchen to grab some coffee to use in my coffeepot. Being the only lawyer in the office, I’ve never bothered to set up a formal break room. Instead, I keep the good stuff—like coffeepot—on a cart right in the corner of my own office.

  Unfortunately, without Liz here doing her job, no one has taken the initiative to set my coffee timer to brew upon my arrival. In fact, no one has done anything to ensure I have coffee at all.

  It’s horrifying.

  I make a mental note to make sure Liz’s new hire runs out to get me some more, as well as doing some of the more mundane errands. At ten thirty, I’ll have Ruby here to help with the other tasks.

  I smile. All in all, things are starting to shape up. I’m sure Liz will do a better job selecting someone this time, and my hire will pick up the slack.