My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

And here I thought finding a man was going to be easy.

I seemed to have forgotten to calculate the whole “falling in love” aspect on my “Maybe Becomes an Adult” checklist.

Ugh. Now, what?

I look at my reflection in the mirror and then back at Lena.

“Do you think this is going to end in a disaster?” The words are almost too difficult to speak out loud, and my question comes out in a barely there whisper.

“You want my honest opinion?”

I swallow down the anxiety and insecurity sitting heavy against my throat and nod.

“No,” she says. “There can’t be a disaster when your auras mesh together like they do.”

Auras. Good Lord. Sometimes, she is so out there, it makes me laugh.

I mean, right now, I’m not laughing, but that’s par for the course when second-guessing and overthinking and anxiety show up to the party. That little trio sure has a way of sucking all the fun out of the room.

“You realize, I still have no idea what you’re talking about, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s what makes it fun.” Lena snorts. “Listen, auras aside, I know what I see, and when I saw the two of you together the other night, I saw a man with genuine eyes looking at a girl like she was walking on water.”

I stare at her like she has two heads.

“You might not believe it now, but sooner rather than later, you’re going to completely let your guard down and allow yourself to pay close enough to attention to see, know, and feel what I’m saying.”

God, I hope she’s right.

But hope isn’t a guarantee.

I guess all I can do is keep my heart open and pray like hell he accepts it with open arms.

“All right,” Lena says and grabs her purse off the counter. “Now it’s time to go dance our asses off and celebrate the fact that you had a fan-fucking-tastic interview today! Let’s do the damn thing, honey!”

Am I ready? No, not really.

But hopefully, by the time we get to the club, and I’ve managed a glass of wine or two, I’ll get there.

Paul’s Cocktail Lounge in Tribeca is unlike any nightclub I’ve ever been to.

The bouncers’ standards are insanely high—pretty much denying anyone who isn’t famous or doesn’t know a friend of a friend of a friend. Thankfully, Lena knows everyone, so the instant we stepped up to the entrance, a large, burly man by the name of Vito flashed a wink and a nod and opened up the red velvet rope to let us through.

I’m certain if I’d shown up here by myself, access would have been denied.

Once we step inside, my senses are hit from all angles. Pounding beats coming from the DJ at the center of the room. A hoard of people on the dance floor. Servers in cute dresses and a hip take on tuxedos rove around the club with silver drink trays. And bright floral wallpaper covers the walls, while the whole space is accented by reclaimed wood and dark leather.

This is the place to lose yourself to the music and dance.

And, after two glasses of wine and a round of dancing with Lena, I am here for it.

The DJ announces that we’ve officially hit the eleven o’clock hour, and I’ve yet to spot Milo anywhere. I discreetly check my phone just in case he tried to get ahold of me.

But no messages. No calls. Nothing.

Disappoint floods my belly, but I force myself to ignore it.

I came here to have a good time. To have a few drinks, dance, let loose, and celebrate that I’m possibly one step closer to getting the job of my dreams.

Not sit at the bar by myself and watch the time pass me by.

I spot Lena in the center of the dance floor, her long blond locks swaying across her back as she dances with an attractive-looking man in a white T-shirt and dark blue jeans. He grabs her by the waist and pulls her closer, and she grins up at him, never once stopping the rhythmic movement of her hips.

Within the five minutes I took to pee and grab a glass of water at the bar, she’s managed to hook herself a dance partner. A good-looking one, at that.

I grin to myself, amused by the girl who has managed to insert herself into my life and become one of my closest friends. Thank God for Lena. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her at this point.

And then, I put on my big-girl panties and head to the dance floor.

It doesn’t take long before I’m losing myself to the music, shaking my hips and raising my hands in the air and just letting go.

I don’t care that I’m by myself.

I don’t care that occasionally I get bumped by my fellow dancers.

I don’t care about anything besides having fun.