The Billionaire Book Club

by Monroe, Max

  And the resemblance is startling. Familiar light-brown eyes, only a few more wrinkles in their creases. The same hair, only peppered with white and gray. The same strong jaw. Even the same nothing-but-trouble smirk appears on his lips when recognition takes over his face.

  Fast-forward twenty or thirty years, and I imagine this is exactly what Caplin Hawkins will look like.

  “Dad,” Cap confirms from behind me, reaching over a shoulder to take what is apparently Jared Hawkins’s hand. “Happy birthday.”

  Jared smiles then, our collision and the complexities of who might be at fault forgotten, and pulls the woman in his arms forward.

  She’s beautiful. And I mean that vividly. Long golden hair, high cheekbones, and full, luscious lips, she has the features of a much younger woman.

  It’s only in the tiny, superficial lines around her eyes that her age shows at all.

  “Mother,” Caplin greets then, and my body jolts with past embarrassment. For the sake of all involved, though, I do my best to lock it down. There’s absolutely no way I can go into the details of that mortifying phone call without making a scene.

  “Caplin,” she says back and pushes past me to place air kisses on both of his cheeks.

  As soon as she steps back, Cap jostles me back into place, but the spell is broken. Now that his body isn’t warming mine, I remember what a bad idea all of it really is.

  As much as I wanted that kiss, as much as I still want to feel his lips on mine, it’s probably a good thing it didn’t happen.

  But the ghost of his touch fires an aftershock on my lips, and I have to lift a hand to them to stop the burn.

  Okay. So, I guess it’s a good thing it only half happened.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins,” I say, pulling forward and away from Cap’s embrace. “It’s great to meet you.”

  Jared’s smile is warm and inviting, but Victoria’s doesn’t quite meet her eyes. Though, now that I’m looking closely, that might just be from a little cosmetic help called Botox.

  “How lovely to meet you, doll,” Jared says, and it reminds me so much of Cap, I grin over my shoulder to let him know.

  He rolls his eyes, but it’s pretty clear he knows. He comes by his large personality honestly—genetically.

  “Who is this beauty, Cap?” Jared asks. His wife rolls her eyes at the use of the nickname, but neither Cap nor Jared pay it any attention.

  Instead of waiting for Cap’s colorful commentary, I hold out a hand to Jared. “Ruby Rockford, sir. I work for your son. Thanks for having me here tonight. And happy birthday.”

  “Thank you.” He smiles as he looks between Cap and me, and I can only imagine the things he’s thinking. I’m just about to nervously chatter myself into a corner when Lena shoves into the middle of our circle and smiles.

  “What? Family reunion time, and I wasn’t invited?”

  Her father melts, clearly smitten with his grown baby girl, while her mother literally rolls her eyes. “You’re always invited LeeLee,” Jared murmurs, wrapping an arm around Lena’s shoulders and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  I suddenly feel extremely out of place. I shuffle backward, intent on finding my way out of their group, but Cap grabs me by the hips and redirects me right back in. I shoot a glare over my shoulder, but he just grins. The bastard.

  “It’d be nice if you started making your own family circle, dear,” Victoria comments. “You’re getting old. I’m not sure how much longer you have before no men find you desirable.” The whole mood of the group takes a nose dive, and I wince.

  Gah. Cap wasn’t kidding about how shitty it must have been for Lena having Vicky as her mom.

  My mom is neurotic and paranoid, but more than any of that, she’s loving.

  Lena bites her lip against what must be an onslaught of emotion and then visibly gathers herself. For her part, Vicky may as well not even be a part of the conversation.

  Lena’s talking to Jared, and she’s talking to Cap, and she’s even talking to me.

  But to Vicky? Her eyes don’t even bother moving in her mother’s direction.

  I have to admire her strength.

  “I actually have some news,” Lena says, and a small, slightly uncertain but mostly excited smile lifts her mouth. “I got into the Milano Fashion Institute. So, I’m happy to tell you that I’ll be going to Italy in late December for their winter semester.”

  “Fashion design school in Italy?” Jared asks and Lena nods. “For how long?”

  “I’ll be over there about a year.”

  All of a sudden, Jared looks surprisingly sad. I’m not sure I understand why, though. This is exciting news.

  Cap squeezes my hips, seemingly to communicate something to me. What it is, I have no idea, but I decide to keep my mouth shut just in case.

  “Congratulations, Lena,” Cap declares with just enough enthusiasm that his father turns his frown around. “We’re all really excited for you. Right, Dad? Mother?”

  Vicky nods noncommittally, but Jared pulls Lena in for a hug before whispering in her ear just loudly enough for the rest of us to hear.

  “I’ll miss you, Leenie Bean. But if this is what you want, I couldn’t be more thrilled for you.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” she says quietly as she melts into his side.

  “Congratulations,” I say, and even though it feels awkward coming off my lips, Lena’s responding smile is thankful.

  Jared, Cap, and his sister dive into a conversation about her plans and what she’s hoping to get out of fashion and design school in Milan, but I have a hard time following their chatter.

  The intensity of the moment—hell, the intensity of this entire night—begins to weigh heavy on my shoulders.

  The dancing.

  The fact that I actually told Cap my narration name.

  His penetrating, damn near addictive gaze.

  The almost-kiss.

  It all feels too…intimate.

  And now, standing in the middle of his family circle, overhearing their conversation and indirectly getting to know more and more about the larger-than-life man standing beside me, it’s simply overwhelming.

  The room starts to feel a little too warm, and the urge to flee the scene is too strong to ignore.

  “Excuse me,” I mutter to the group and then, on my tippy-toes, whisper into Cap’s ear, “I need to head to the ladies’ room.”

  Thankfully, this time, he lets me go.

  I step away from their group and away from the dance floor—away from the weird bubble of hormones Cap and I created right where he still stands.

  And as I walk in the opposite direction of them—of him—I’m a mix of many things, but I’ll be damned if I can tell which part of me feels the strongest.

  Relief that I just managed an escape…or disappointed that I’m no longer standing within his embrace.

  Cap

  It’s Monday night, and I’m doing what almost no guys do on a Monday night—heading straight for a pretend poker game that serves as a secret cover for a book club.

  But, obviously, it isn’t just any book club.

  It’s the Billionaire Book Club. Which pretty much makes it the best fucking book club around, no matter if its foundation was built on my ulterior, Ruby-inspired motives.

  Vin, my driver, expertly navigates the roads from my office to Thatch’s apartment, and I stare out the window, watching the buildings and streetlights and pedestrians pass by in a blur.

  I’m lost in my thoughts. Lost in my own damn head.

  Lost in whatever the hell is happening between Ruby and me.

  She looked so damn beautiful at my dad’s birthday party Saturday night.

  We danced.

  We almost kissed.

  She even met my insane family without fleeing the premises like her ass was on fire.

  Which is a damn miracle when it comes to my mother alone.

  But Ruby did end up excusing herself from the party a little too fucking early for my liking.

&n
bsp; When it comes to her, I’m finding that the path is rocky, and every time I think I make two steps in the direction of progress—in the direction of her gloriously naked body in my bed—she flips the fucking map and navigates us three steps back and another ten in a different goddamn direction.

  It’s like she’s semi-immune to my charm or something.

  Which, let’s face it, pretty much never fucking happens.

  Hell, where did it all go wrong the other night?

  Before I can begin to recount the events of Saturday in my head, for what has to be the fiftieth time, my phone serves as a distraction, chiming loudly from my jacket pocket.

  I pull it out to find a text from my sister.

  Lena: So…dear brother…why don’t you go ahead and spill the deets on your new lady friend?

  I sigh. Apparently, I’m not the only one whose brain is fixated on Ruby.

  Me: She’s my intern.

  Lena: And…

  And hopefully, very soon, a woman screaming my name and her orgasm in my fucking bed…

  Me: I see what you’re trying to do here, but there’s nothing to tell.

  Lena: God, you are so full of shit, and you know it.

  She’s annoyed. It makes me grin.

  Me: I’m the best brother in the world, and this is how you treat me? Wow, sis. What happened to the sweet little Lena I used to know?

  Lena: Oh, cut the crap, Cap. And don’t try to change the subject.

  Me: And what subject are we talking here? English? Math? A little history? Or shall we delve deep into fashion and design just to get you up to speed for Milan in the winter?

  The text bubbles move for a good fifteen seconds until a new message appears.

  Lena: Mr. Flannel Shirt wants to talk fashion and design? HA. You wouldn’t know fashion or design if it smacked you in the damn head. And, the subject is YOU, DUMBASS, and the fact that you NEVER bring dates to family events. Hell, you’ve literally never brought a girl around our parents since high school. Not your fuck buddies. Or your assistants. But you brought Ruby.

  Now, I’m annoyed. I don’t know why I’m annoyed, but I am.

  But she’s not finished.

  Ten seconds later, another message follows.

  Lena: You and I both know there’s a reason you brought her to Dad’s birthday party the other night. And, it needs to be said, I already love her. She’s far too smart for you and doesn’t walk around with the same stupid, horny, doe-eyed look that pretty much every other woman you’ve ever been with always seems to have.

  A grin forms on my lips without my permission, and my heart does something weird inside my chest when I read the second sentence of her message.

  What the fuck is that about?

  I ignore it, rub at my chest, and before I can type out a response, another text from Chatty Cathy fills the message box.

  Lena: Just admit it, bro. You like her. A lot. And who wouldn’t? She’s beautiful, funny, and extremely smart.

  Me: Is there something you’re trying to tell me? Are you trying to get Ruby’s digits from me because you want to date her? I’ll be honest, sis, I don’t think she swings that way, but I guess I could try to put a good word in for ya…

  Lena: Nice deflection, asshole.

  Deflecting. I’m not deflecting.

  I don’t have any reason to deflect…right?

  My chest does that weird thing again, and I decide to really turn the tables on my long-winded, prying sister.

  I laugh to myself as I tap my fingers across the letters and put together my own long-winded message that’s sure to change her nosy tune.

  When I hit send, my smile is one-hundred-percent satisfied.

  Me: Oh hey, by the way, I overheard a conversation Vicky was having with Glen Morris and his wife just before they left Dad’s party. She told them the good news about Milan. Well, sort of told them the good news. She had a few of the details mixed up. Said you were going there to learn how to be a chef and that Jared is basically paying for you to gallivant around Europe. But she definitely had the city right.

  Lena: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

  When Vin pulls up to the curb and stops in front of Thatch’s apartment, I send one final text to my sister.

  Me: Hey, Lena, sorry to cut this short, but I gotta head into a late meeting. Love you, sis. Talk soon.

  Lena: OF COURSE YOU’D LEAVE THE CONVERSATION NOW. AFTER TELLING ME THAT.

  Lena: P.S. YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE.

  I grin to myself as I lock the screen of my phone and slip it into my pocket.

  Obviously, my little sister has a very funny way of saying I love you.

  But I know the truth. I’m basically her favorite person on the planet.

  “What time do you need me back here?” Vin asks from the driver’s seat.

  “It might be a late night.” I grip the handle of the door. “So, why don’t you call it an evening, and I’ll grab a taxi home?”

  “You sure, boss?”

  “Positive.” I nod. “See you tomorrow, Vin.”

  I slide out of the back seat and step onto the pavement.

  With the number of questions I have rolling around in my head about Ruby, the Billionaire Book Club sure as fuck has some work to do.

  Fingers crossed these bastards can focus for more than ten fucking seconds tonight.

  “What’s this narrator’s name?” Thatch asks pointedly as the audiobook breaks between one chapter and the next.

  We’ve been listening to If I Don’t, a novel about a newspaper editor and her laundry list of suitors, for the last hour. The book is a romance, and I know that eventually it will center in on a man worthy of a woman’s affection, but so far, it’s been much more a story about self-love.

  I picked it specifically, as I have with all of the other books. But this time, I used different criteria. It’s not a book that Ruby is reading now. But it is entirely related to her.

  After the way things went at my dad’s party, I felt like a change in tactics was necessary. Ruby is like no other woman I’ve encountered before. She’s unpredictable, unconvinced, and mind-blowingly resistant to my normal charms.

  She never reacts the way I think she will. Hell, I don’t even know what she’s looking for anymore.

  I just have to hope—at some point—the answer will come in one of these books.

  “Elizabeth Aster,” I answer Thatch’s question. But the truth is, I know something they don’t—something about Elizabeth Aster that I’ll take to the grave if she really wants me to.

  That she and Ruby Rockford are, in fact, the same person.

  “I’ve long-since felt cursed by love,” she narrates, the soft seduction of her voice filling the whole of the smoke room and then some. It’s the first time I’ve listened to a book by her, and I’m starting to wonder if it might be a mistake. “Cursed by the men who could never find it in themselves to open up, cursed by the men who opened up to any woman they encountered…cursed by the man I’d yet to find.”

  Alarm bells go off inside my head, and I start to feel as though she’s speaking directly to me. Like Ruby herself is telling me the details of her past and the secrets of her heartbreak.

  And I don’t really know how to handle it.

  “I knew that it was only a matter of time and patience—that the man who would complete my life and fill the voids of my soul would eventually come—but waiting was a form of bittersweet agony.”

  “Man, she is sexy as hell,” Harrison says gruffly, rubbing at his chest in a way that kind of makes me want to punch him in the throat. “Why haven’t we been listening to these books all along?”

  Wes nods. “I’ll second that vote.”

  I narrow my eyes. “He wasn’t voting. There’s no vote.”

  “Hey, man. You should be happy,” Thatch interjects. “This is the happiest these fuckers have been about Thatch’s Book Club since we started it. So what if it takes a sexy voice to get them engaged?”

  “I just…” I pa
use, stumbling for an explanation that doesn’t include some mysterious possessiveness over a voice I can’t explain. “I don’t think we can fully emotionally relate to a scene if we don’t read it ourselves.”

  Kline draws his eyebrows together. I avoid his gaze. I have no fucking doubt the he-witch inside of him has the ability to see my secrets.

  “That doesn’t even make any sense,” Theo says logically, and as much as I’d like to argue with him, I can’t. I’m straight up pulling shit out of my ass at this point.

  But I had no idea how much it would bother me to have these fuckers lusting over Ruby’s voice.

  I mean, what is that?

  It’s got to be some sort of psychological defect where my inner child doesn’t want other kiddies playing with my toys.

  God, get it together, Cap.

  Kline continues to eye me closely, I can see it out of my peripheral vision, but the rest of them drop it pretty quickly when I say, “Whatever. Fine. Let’s just listen.”

  Trent and Quince have known me the longest, but when it comes to me, I actually think that’s a disadvantage. They’re used to me being wild. Used to me making sense in my own way—or not making sense at all.

  They’re disillusioned and numbed.

  But Kline…he’s too smart for my own good.

  “When I walk into the bar that night, a man immediately stands out from the crowd. It isn’t his shirt or his shoes or his hair that distinguishes him from the rest, though. It’s a feeling. An overwhelming wave of sense of self and peace that emanates from him like an aura. Is this… Could this be…the man of my dreams?”

  I reach down and pause the book on my phone, and silence settles over the room as it stops playing through the Bluetooth speaker.

  “Well. There you have it,” Trent says with a laugh. “You just have to be. Let your aura speak for you.”