My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

“And I don’t have contacts in publishing?” Cap asks, offended. “You do realize I’m a corporate lawyer, right? I have my hands in all-the-fucking pots.”

Evan chuckles. “Yeah, well, I don’t want your dirty-fucking-hands anywhere near my baby sister.”

“I still don’t see why I can’t help little Miss Maybe out…” Cap grins a devilish smile. “I’m very accommodating.”

The mere idea of Cap and Maybe within 100 feet of each other makes my gut churn.

“Mr. Ives,” Clara’s voice chimes through the intercom. “Your nine-thirty is here.”

“All right, well, I’d like to say it was great talking to you bastards, but I prefer not to start off my Monday with lies.”

Evan smirks. “Thanks again for helping Maybe out.”

“Of course. No problem.”

“And what about me?” Cap asks, and I laugh.

“What about you?”

“Don’t I get a thank you? A lunch date? Some-fucking-thing for all of the hard work I’ve put in for you dicks?”

“Aw, you feeling left out, bud?” I ask in a sugary voice. “How about I take you out to lunch next week? Will that make you feel better?”

His pout turns serious. “Somewhere nice?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know you’re a five-star restaurant kind of lady.”

“As long as we’re on the same page,” he retorts, and I click end on the call before he can rope me into another ten minutes of ridiculousness.

But in typical Cap fashion, before I even have the chance to let my nine-thirty appointment into my office, he insists on having additional last words via text.

Cap: Why don’t you go ahead and bring Maybe along? I’d love to meet this off-limits sister of Evan’s…

I roll my eyes. Always the shit stirrer.

Me: Lunch is canceled on account of you being a dirty bastard.

Sadly, my message doesn’t give me the satisfaction it should. If anything, it’s a stark reminder of the way I’ve been thinking about a very grown-up Maybe since the first time I saw her.

If anyone’s a dirty bastard, it’s me.

Maybe

After a short ride on the E train to SoHo and a five-block walk through a quiet side street of unique storefronts, I spot the sign for Charlie Bird—a cool, new-American eatery that Lena chose.

I locate her quickly, seated at an outdoor table with a half-drunk glass of white wine sitting in front of her. I nod my direction at the hostess and head straight for my delightfully weird new friend.

“Looks like you already got started without me,” I say by way of greeting and sit down in the seat across from hers. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long. There was a delay on the E.”

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “You’re just on time.”

Just on time? Pretty sure I’m fifteen minutes late, but who am I to argue?

I order a coffee from a fauxhawk-sporting, emerald-eyed server named Grady, and Lena frowns in disappointment.

“Really?” she questions. “Coffee? You’re not going to have something fun with me?”

“Trust me, I’m three cups behind my usual four-cup quota for the day. It will benefit both of us if I drink coffee.”

She laughs, shakes her head, and sips her wine while we both peruse the menu. It feels weird to have silence with a virtual stranger feel comfortable, but she’s so at ease with it, I can’t help but be the same.

By the time Grady comes back with my coffee, we’re both ready to order.

“Burger and fries, please,” I say and hand him my menu. “But I do have one very special request.”

Grady grins. “Hit me with it.”

I loathe coming across as difficult, especially when I’m at a restaurant, but this is one thing I can’t help but be difficult on.

“Please keep any and all onions away from my plate,” I say in the nicest way possible. “I’m truly not trying to be a pain in the ass here, but I’ll literally puke if they accidentally end up in my food.”

“Got it,” he says with a soft smile. “No onions.”

“I am forever grateful.”

Once Lena orders and the waiter heads toward the kitchen, she flashes a secret grin my way.

“You are flipping adorable.”

I furrow my brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Trust me, even our server would agree with me on this. You’re adorable.”

I groan and scrunch up my nose. Adorable is the last thing I want to be. Gorgeous, sexy—even hot. Now those are adjectives I can get behind.

“What’s wrong with adorable?”

“Adorable is for puppies and kittens. I want to be seen as a grown woman.”

“There’s nothing wrong with adorable.” She grins and takes a sip of wine. “Trust me, honey. Adorable for a grown woman is good. Guys blow their loads over adorable.”

I snort. “They do not.”

“Oh yes, they do.” She nods. Eyes serious. “Being able to combine innocence and secret sexpot is dick kryptonite.”

“Secret sexpot?” I question on a laugh.

“I have a good eye for these things.” Her smirk is both knowing and devilish. “I can tell, beneath those cute little jean shorts and Converse and beautiful girl-next-door face, there’s a total freak just waiting to come out.”