The Billionaire Book Club

I finish reading the sentence I’m on before peeling my eyes away, but when I do, Cap is staring right at me.

Like, hard. So hard, it seems like he’s trying to look through me. I glance down at myself, just to make sure I haven’t taken some kind of transparent form.

When I look back up and draw my eyebrows together, he speaks. “Hello, fair lady.”

I squint. “Uh…hi.”

“I trust the day is treating you well.”

Why does he sound so strange?

“Um, sure.”

“Great, great. That’s fantastic. I’m so pleased you’re enjoying your day.”

His smile is wonky around the edges and weirdly stationary. I’m legitimately starting to wonder if he’s a pod person, inhabited by some alien after being abducted. He doesn’t sound like himself at all.

I shrug and look around a bit to see if there are any hidden cameras. But I don’t see any. When I look back to Cap, he’s waiting expectantly for an answer, so I supply the only one I can think of. “Yep. No complaints here. So far, so good.”

“Right, well, I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of your attendance at an upcoming event. A lavish ball, so to speak.”

“Excuse me?” I scrunch up my nose and assess his face closely to make sure I’m not missing some kind of indicators of a stroke or seizure.

But his face never changes. No weird twitches. No signs of emergent red flags. Instead, that weird, wonky smile remains intact on his lips. “Madame, I’d love the pleasure of your beautiful company at an extravagant event, and perhaps, if the night proves to be delightful, we’ll also find ourselves enjoying a languid walk in the moonlight. Or a lovely twirl around the promenade—”

Delightful? Moonlight? Lovely twirl? What in the hell is he talking about?

I strive to decode his words, but in no time at all, right smack between my brows, a headache begins to set in.

“Okay, yeah. Stop.” I raise a hand between both of our faces. “Seriously. You’re starting to creep me out.”

He pauses before huffing out a breath. “I have a work function I need you to attend.”

Finally, he speaks English again.

“Oh,” I say. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

He shrugs and laughs a little, murmuring to himself, “I have no idea. How silly of me.”

“When is it?”

“This Saturday night.”

“Saturday night?” I ask. “A work function?”

“Yes,” he affirms.

“That’s weird. What kind of work function for a lawyer happens on a Saturday night?”

“It’s a party, but it’s for work, and I need you to be there, okay? There are assistant-type things to be done, and you are the assistant,” he huffs.

“All right,” I say, holding up my hands. I fear if I don’t agree, he’ll start using words like lovely and delightful again. “I’ll be there.”

He nods frantically, and I widen my eyes when he doesn’t say anything else. He widens his back, apparently unable to determine what I’m waiting for.

“What time is this event?”

“Eight.”

“Huh,” I murmur. “That’s pretty late—”

“For a work function,” he cuts me off. “Yes, I get it. But that’s when it is. You can come as you are at six-thirty, though, because I have some…stuff…we need to do beforehand.”

“Stuff?”

“Yes, stuff. Very important lawyer stuff with my assistant. Can you be there or not?”

“Geez, yes. I record in the morning, but I can be there at night, okay? Relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

I laugh. Outright. He looks like a lot of things right now, but relaxed is not one of them. “No. No, you’re not. You’re like one of those wind socks in front of a car dealership, shifting back and forth constantly. Only they have an excuse, and you don’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, for one thing, the wind doesn’t blow in here.”

He quirks a challenging brow. “And for another?”

“I don’t have another point. Just the one.”

“You said for one thing,” he argues and searches my eyes like he’s trying to find a fucking loophole inside my brain. “That implies multiple points.”

“Well…I don’t have them.” I raise both of my hands in the air on a sigh. “I’m all out of points, Cap.”

He doesn’t believe me, and his expression shows it. “I think you do, but for some reason, you’re not saying it. Why are you not saying things to me, Ruby? I want you to say all the things to me.”

“You are so seriously weird today.”

“I’m perfectly normal.”

“Are you hormonal?” I raise a teasing brow. “On your man period, maybe?”

“That’s really insulting, you know.”

I scoff through a laugh. “Yes, I know. I’m a woman, and I’ve had that said to me only about one million times. It’s horribly tacky.”

“People actually say that to you? That you must be on your period because you’re moody?”

“Men,” I correct. “Men say that. And yes, they say it all the time.” I shake my head and mutter softly, “Especially my ex-boyfriend.”