The Billionaire Book Club

by Monroe, Max

  I wait eagerly for her eyes to meet mine again—for the fall of sexy, curled, blond hair to move back to a position that reveals her face—and will my heart to slow.

  It’s never raced like this before, and I don’t know what to make of it. Surely, I didn’t have any more caffeine today than I’ve had any other day.

  But maybe I’m developing an intolerance?

  I move back a step as Ruby makes it to the bottom of the staircase, to allow her to get both feet on flat ground. She lets go of the material of her dress, swipes both hands down over her abdomen and hips self-consciously, and then finally meets my eyes.

  I don’t hesitate. “You look beautiful, Ruby.”

  She blushes, but I’m not done, so I push onward. “You always look beautiful. But tonight—tonight, you take my breath away.”

  Heated cheeks accompany a drawn brow in her expression, and the combination of the two throws up a red flag. The woman who walked into the hair and makeup room is peeking around from behind the woman who came out, and I’m not ready for the full transition.

  I hold out an arm before she can comment with something that will belittle my compliment. Because for all of my showboating and plotting and one-liners, I meant what I just said with a sincerity even I can’t comprehend. “Shall we?”

  She nods and then looks me up and down. I’ve been through a makeover since we last saw each other too, having traded in my jeans, flannel, and boots for a tux and dress shoes. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s quite obvious she’s noticed.

  I loop her arm through mine to guide her to the hall, and then put a hand to the small of her back as we walk side by side.

  She fidgets nervously, rubbing the fingertips of her free hand against the front of her dress, and I tense my fingers at her back like a reflex born out of a need to comfort her.

  “So…” she hums, looking down the long hall in front of us and then glancing up at me. “What exactly should I expect here? Elephants? Silk dancers? Or, like, a Presidential State Dinner?”

  I laugh at her imagination and smile. “Somewhere in between, I’d say. My dad isn’t really into the whole dog and pony show, but Vicky is. She likes to keep up a certain appearance, and my dad likes to keep her happy. It’s all very complicated.”

  She shrugs and giggles a little. “I don’t know. That kind of sounds like every married couple I’ve ever met. Just…with a lot of money.”

  “Are you saying my parents are normal?” I grin suspiciously. “Because I’m having a hard time believing that’s what I hear you saying.”

  She laughs. “Well, I don’t know. You’d know better than me, seeing as I haven’t officially met them yet. I’m just saying their dynamic doesn’t sound all that out of the ordinary.”

  When we turn the corner at the end of the hall, the lights from the tent shine through the open French doors and reflect in Ruby’s wide eyes.

  There are vividly ornate arrangements of flowers in the center of each ivory-linen-covered table, and a pinwheel of gathered silks runs to the peak in the center of the room. In between, the top of the tent is clear, allowing a view to the pitch-black night sky, which is dotted artfully with stars.

  As we step out the doors and underneath it, I hear Ruby’s breath catch in her throat.

  My hand flexes at her back without command again.

  “Okay,” she says softly to herself. “Wow.”

  Her feet are frozen, fully paused by the wonder of a Hawkins party, but I know the night—and her wonderment—is far from over.

  I spot my sister on the other side of the room, getting a drink, and I take Ruby’s hand to guide her in that direction. Lena’ll be an ally in this crowd, especially for Ruby, so the sooner I introduce the two of them, the better.

  Eyes follow us across the room, but I don’t meet any of them. I don’t want to get sucked into a mindless conversation right now, and Ruby’s not ready yet. She needs to acclimate a little more completely.

  Lena turns around with a glass of wine in hand just as we arrive, and she starts to frown at the sight of me.

  But when my sister notices Ruby next to me, my hand very obviously connected to her in a possessive gesture, Lena’s eyes warm and the corners of her mouth change direction.

  “Well, dear brother. How interesting it is to see you.”

  I shake my head at her wolfish grin and guide Ruby to a stop beside me. She glances between Lena and me a few times and smiles. “You don’t really look alike at all, and yet, I can still tell you’re brother and sister.”

  I laugh, and Lena rolls her eyes. “Great,” she says derisively, to which Ruby laughs wildly.

  “Wow. So, it is possible?”

  Lena and I both raise our eyebrows in question, and Ruby doesn’t hesitate to explain. “To find a woman who isn’t fond of Caplin Hawkins.”

  My sister’s cackle can be heard far and wide as she eagerly reaches out a hand in Ruby’s direction. “It’s really nice to meet you. I don’t even know your name, and I like you already.”

  Ruby’s smile is radiant. “Ruby Rockford.” She jerks her head toward me. “I work for him.”

  “You work for him, and he actually brought you to one of our outrageous family functions… Interesting,” Lena muses. “Very interesting.”

  There’s accusation in my sister’s words. A “But you never bring dates to family parties…” hidden between the syllables.

  Shit.

  I clear my throat and redirect the conversation to something other than the questions that undoubtedly sit on the tip of my sister’s tongue. “Have you seen Jared and Vicky?”

  Lena snorts. “No. So far, I’ve been successful at avoiding them.”

  I smirk at her response. Our family dynamics are nothing short of strange, but it’s the reality of the Hawkins clan. We’re certainly not the Brady Bunch, and I can guaran-fucking-tee that fact will never change.

  Mostly, our stunted familial relationship has more to do with Vicky’s vapid ways than anything else, but that’s a story for a different day.

  Tonight, my focus is laser-sharp and pointed directly at Ruby.

  The band starts up across the room, Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night” bleeding through the crowd, and the goddess beside me starts to sway.

  I watch avidly as Ruby’s eyes close softly and contentment slides into the corners of her mouth.

  Instead of asking her to dance—and likely having her say no—I put a hand to her back and walk.

  “Excuse us a minute,” I say to Lena. She bites her lip and raises her eyebrows, but I don’t stick around to see or hear anything else. Her familiar eyes are filled with far too much suspicion and intrigue for me to give her any time to start her sisterly interrogation.

  “Where are we going?” Ruby asks as we make our way to the middle of the room. I don’t say anything, but rather, spin her to a stop in the middle of the dance floor and gently guide her body toward mine.

  Which, fuck, her body. It’s warm and soft and feels so damn good that I’m kind of mad at myself for not starting here first. On the dance floor. With Ruby in my arms.

  She balks a little, her face falling into a mix of confusion and fear, but she eventually settles with her hands resting lightly on my shoulders.

  I sway to the music, much in the same way she was swaying on her own, and rest my hands on her hips. They feel hot and supple beneath my fingertips, and I swallow hard against the rush of longing that washes over me.

  I want Ruby Rockford. I’ve wanted her for weeks at this point, but it hasn’t really hit me until now.

  I want her badly.

  Ruby

  Cap’s hands feel strong and dangerous in their place on my hips as we move from side to side with the melody of Frank Sinatra.

  And his big, muscular body feels good. Too damn good. I hate how much I’m enjoying it.

  My mind is scattered into a million hows and whys and whats that I can barely focus on a single thought.

  From the mome
nt I looked at myself in the mirror after getting my hair and makeup done, I’ve been walking on the eggshells hatched by nerves and uncertainty.

  Like, what in the actual hell is really going on here?

  I’m at a family function with my boss, dressed in a way that invites attention, and currently and alarmingly, dancing in his arms.

  What happened here that this suddenly feels very much like a date?

  But this most certainly isn’t a date…right?

  Cap stares down at me—I can feel the weight of his eyes as they roam my face—but I’m completely unable to return the gesture. I’m unable to meet his gaze.

  More like you’re afraid you’re going to get a little too lost in those warm, inviting eyes of his…

  I look everywhere else in the glamorous tent instead.

  Up to the silken drapes and starry sky, over to the people gathered by the bar, into the face of a far-too-amused Lena, and back over to the other side of the room to count the flowers in the centerpieces.

  I run the gamut like a circuit, but eventually, Cap grows tired of my less-than-stellar attention and squeezes his long-fingered, perfect hands on my hips.

  I swallow thickly, knowing I can’t ignore him forever, and then brace myself—for what, I’m not sure—as I look up and into his eyes.

  “Hey, there,” he says with the same goddamn smirk he used on me the day I met him. “Nice of you to finally join me.”

  “What?” I mumble, and he laughs.

  “With the way you weren’t looking directly at me, I was starting to wonder if I’d transformed into the sun, Rube.”

  “Oh,” I mutter. “Right. Sorry. I’m just a little…” Fucking overwhelmed? At a loss for words? Confused?

  “Out of sorts?” He tosses me a life vest via words, and all I can do is offer a half-shrug. “How about I not only lead this wonderful dance—” he squeezes my hips gently “—but the conversation too?”

  For some strange reason, even though Caplin Hawkins should never be trusted to lead a conversation—Lord knows, he will inevitably lead it down dirty paths—I nod my agreement.

  “I’ll start easy,” he says with a secret smirk. “What’s your favorite color?”

  I crinkle my nose at the random question but answer it all the same. “White.”

  “Your favorite fruit?”

  “Mango.”

  “Your favorite pizza topping?”

  “Mushrooms and extra cheese.”

  A soft laugh escapes his lungs. “That’s kind of weird…”

  “Don’t be a snob,” I retort, and it only makes him grin down at me.

  But the silence is brief as Cap proceeds to dive back into his twenty questions game.

  “Favorite spot in the city?”

  “Washington Square Park.”

  He zings the questions like an auctioneer, and I find myself joining in on the game, trying to answer them just as quickly as they leave his lips.

  “Favorite scary movie?”

  “Zero. I hate scary movies.”

  “What’s your stage name?”

  “Elizabeth As—” I pause and my eyes turn so wide, I’m certain they’ve consumed my entire face. I’m literally just a head with two giant eyeballs connected to a woman who just got loopholed by Caplin fucking Hawkins. “I can’t believe you just did that, you bastard!” I smack his shoulder with my hand. “That was not fair!”

  “How was that not fair?” he questions with a sly grin. “You agreed to let me lead the conversation. I’m certain you didn’t apply any rules on where I could and couldn’t lead it.”

  I narrow my eyes, but he just keeps on grinning.

  “You might as well just tell me the rest, Ruby.” He shrugs one annoying shoulder at me. “I mean, I have the first name and the first two letters of the last… At this point, it probably wouldn’t be too hard for me to figure it out on my own…”

  Goddammit.

  “Ugh.” I groan. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

  “I would like to let the record reflect that I simply asked a question. One that was not out of malicious intent, but actually because I just wanted to get to know you better,” he says, going all fucking lawyer on me. “So, I think the whole jerk statement should be struck from the court documents.”

  “God, you’re annoying, you know that?”

  “I’m pretty sure you mean I’m persistent.” He quirks a knowing brow. “So…?”

  He doesn’t have to finish the question. I already know what he’s getting at.

  And because I really don’t see any way around it, and I’m probably a bit insane, I tell him the one thing I never tell anyone. Not my mom or dad. Not Kevin. No one.

  “Elizabeth Aster.” I say my pseudonym out loud. To someone else. “It was my late grandmother’s name. And she is one of the main reasons I love reading romance novels.”

  “I like it.” His caramel eyes stare down at me with the kind of intensity that has goose bumps rolling up my arms. “The name and the reason for it.”

  Before I can open up my lips to add a very important disclaimer, he beats me to it. “And consider your secret safe with me. In my vault. Under lock and key. Never to be told to anyone else.”

  “Promise?”

  “Ruby, I swear.”

  For some crazy reason, I don’t doubt his words. I actually believe him.

  He smiles down at me, and there’s something in it—something personal and intimate—that gives me pause. Something that makes my shoulders tense and my back go ramrod straight. Something that has spurred one too many questions inside my head, and I can no longer avoid it.

  I squint up at him and tilt my head to the side. “What exactly is going on here, Cap? The whole makeover, the party…” I nod at our bodies. “The dancing.”

  “Do we really have to call it something specific?” He avoids cleverly. “Can’t we just enjoy it for what it is?”

  Unfortunately for him, I’ve heard that kind of line before, from a guy I met in undergrad, and I’m not all too fond of the blasé sentiment. “God. What is it with men and wanting to avoid labels?” I lower my voice to the timbre of a man and continue, “We don’t need labels, babe. What we have can’t be labeled.” I snort and roll my eyes. “This is about our connection. Not our relationship status,” I mock further.

  “Are you saying we’re in a relationship?” Cap says excitedly—playfully—pulling my body into his.

  I shake my head and slap his arm. “Cap, I’m serious!”

  “I can tell, doll. In fact, I can tell you’re serious most of the time.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Nothing,” he says seriously. “I’m just trying to enjoy the moment with you. And I wish you would do the same.”

  Enjoy the moment. Can I do that?

  “I-I…” I stammer a minute before putting my thoughts into vulnerable words I’m not completely sure I don’t want to take back. “I don’t know if I can.”

  His bright eyes hold mine, a soft smile cresting just one corner of his mouth. It’s human and understanding and completely unexpected from Caplin Hawkins.

  He is tough and bold and bright in every way possible.

  But in this moment, here on the dance floor with me…he’s tender.

  “Just try,” he says gently, sweeping a warm hand along my hip, bringing it up and rubbing the backs of his knuckles along my cheek.

  I’m not sure where the impulse comes from, or how it happens, but there isn’t even a question about my reaction—I lean into his touch.

  “Strangers in the Night” comes to a close, but neither of us pulls away.

  We stay there, deep in each other’s eyes and arms, swaying to the next song as it starts up.

  I don’t recognize it immediately, but as the band transitions from the intro into the real meat of the music, the irony couldn’t be any clearer.

  Ella Fitzgerald’s “Aren’t You Kind of Glad We Did?” confirms my decision to live in the moment.r />
  If I don’t use what I have when the opportunity is presented, will I ever really use it at all?

  My heart picks up speed as Cap’s smile grows. Whether it’s pure intuition or my body language or some type of psychic gift, he can see the change in me. I’m sure of it.

  Our bodies mold to each other as he spins me quickly to a new spot on the dance floor, and the way it makes my stomach feel puts a smile on my face.

  His smile this close up is a whole new animal—more powerful and influential and, perhaps, unstoppable.

  I could melt into the feel of it, get lost in the complexities—spend my life trying to crack its code.

  I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips, and I’m not ashamed to say I run my tongue along them in the hope I can taste it.

  Whiskey flares as Cap’s eyes lock on to the movement, and it’s all I can do to stop a full-body chill from overwhelming my frame.

  One second bleeds into the next, and time slows down. I can see every minute movement as Cap’s perfectly plush mouth comes toward mine—can feel every breath exchanged between us—and I do nothing to stop it.

  Live in the moment, take things as they come, stop cockblocking my own goddamn life. I’m determined to have this moment, no matter the consequences.

  My heart thunders in my chest, a wild animal contained in a cage of flesh and bone and purpose. It can’t run from me—it can’t run from this.

  Fingertips flex into the thin fabric at my hips, and I swear I nearly faint as Cap’s lips hover just above mine.

  My eyelids fall in a languid blink, a fraction of a second expanded into a faux minute of time. A lip grazes mine, just a hint of contact with the potency of a million pounds of pressure.

  It’s more than I’ve ever imagined a kiss could be, and it hasn’t even started yet.

  Dear God, I’m in so much troub—

  “Ow,” I groan as a huge force at my back slams me into the hard wall of Cap’s body and bumps our chins and teeth together.

  Cap winces too, rubbing at his face with a hand and steadying me at the hip with the other.

  I turn to find the offending object, just as it—he—turns to glare at me.