The Billionaire's Gamble

Chapter 6

It’s beena month since Evie and I explored the Seafarer together.

When I’d gotten back into my helicopter that day and watched Evie become a small speck on the deck of the massive ship, I’d sworn that I was going to avoid her as much as humanly possible for the rest of the time she worked for me.

The reality has turned out to be a bit different.

I make it a point to sign off on all major decisions personally, and I quickly struggled to find excuses for why I was suddenly sending intermediaries to deal with the ad campaign, what is arguably the most important part of the Seafarer’s upcoming launch.

So, despite my wishes, ultimately I’ve been forced to interact with Evie on an almost daily basis.

I try to have as many other people in the room as possible. I won’t give her any more chances to peek behind the curtain, trying to guess what kind of man I really am.

She’ll be disappointed to learn that there isn’t anything to see there. Work Nick isn’t a mask I put on in the office; it’s who I am, the result of decades of effort to stamp out any emotion that might distract from my quest to build my business.

I’ve managed to keep my emotions in line for years.

But now? Well, if I were so certain of my self control then why do I need human barriers between me and a young woman I’ve only known for a single short month?

I can’t exactly blame Evie for upending my carefully cultivated world. I can’t even blame my father for dumping Jack in my lap, as much as I’d like to. No, if I really want to point fingers, they’d only go back to myself.

My trouble all began when I decided to build that stupid ship. Because what was that if not an emotionally-charged decision? Everyone had told me I was a fool to do it, and I’d done it anyway. For me. Or, I suppose, for the boy I’d once been.

And now I have Evie Davis in my life, making things even more confusing, calling me out on my bullshit, looking for hidden depth. I haven’t felt so vulnerable in years, and I don’t like it at all. I should just fire her and call it a day. I could send her on her way with a significant severance bonus and absolve myself of any guilt I’d feel about using her campaign.

Because I can’t keep glancing up from my desk every moment leading up to 8 a.m. when she and her intern walk through my doors. I can’t keep watching her on the security feed as she works, chewing on the end of her pen, frequently brushing those gorgeous blonde locks behind her ears. I can’t continue to argue with her in my head, coming up with new comebacks for her insults, imagined conversations that inevitably end with me pushing her against a wall and snaking a hand between her legs as my mouth dominates hers…

“You okay, bro? You look a little tense.”

I jolt out of my thoughts at Jack’s words, embarrassed he caught me in my fantasy.

I glance at the time on my open computer and sigh. This is exactly what I’m talking about. One moment I’m working on my couch and the next it’s been twenty minutes of ruminating on how to best deal with the Evie Problem. Even Jack is starting to key in on things, a titanic feat since I’m pretty sure he’s high twenty-four seven.

“I’m fine,” I say grouchily, shifting and pulling my laptop closer.

“See you say that, but you’ve been staring at the same blank document for almost a half hour,” he says. “What gives?”

I sigh deeply. I can’t even escape the questions at home. It occurs to me that Jack and Evie would get along due to their constant desire to interpret me. Can’t he see that I’m working?

“I’m busy,” I mutter. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Jack doesn’t take the obvious cue to leave me alone. Instead he flops down on the couch next to me, holding a bowl of Fruit Loops. Unsurprisingly, neon-tinted milk sloshes out of the bowl and onto the leather.

“Whoops,” he says and wipes up the milk with the sleeve of his flannel.

I close my eyes and pray for patience. With each passing day of living together I’m getting less and less convinced that Jack and I are actually related. The kid is a mess and he doesn’t seem to care. He’s up all night, eats food that would put me in a coma, and seems utterly content to do nothing but play video games and smoke pot on my balcony.

I need to schedule in some time to deal with him. He needs a job. He doesn’t even own a suit. It’s a nightmare.

“Anyway,” Jack continues, oblivious to my internal torment, “I know we don’t know each other that well, but you weren’t like this when I visited for Christmas. Something’s up with you.”

“I’m surprised you remember Christmas,” I mutter, pretending to work but really getting nothing done other than clicking around a web page. He’d spent most of Christmas high as well. That is until he disappeared to go to Guam with friends. I’d been in the midst of the Seafarer’s latest building disaster at the time and had found it easier to just let him go than deal with a big fight and the subsequent sulking.

Jack either doesn’t hear or chooses to ignore my jab. “All you’ve done is work since I moved in. Don’t you have any hobbies?”

I don’t answer, continuing to click.

“Okay, I guess maybe you don’t have time for hobbies with the business and all,” he reasons. “But do you just never get laid?”

I click harder, trying not to picture curves clothed in tasteful business attire.

“Well?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” I demand with a growl, staring daggers at him.

Jack jerks back from my anger and a hurt expression crosses his features. But then he flops back, the look gone as quickly as it came.

“So I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then?” he asks.

“Take it however you want,” I mutter. I’m embarrassed at my outburst. What happened to cool and collected Nick? Maybe he was only sustainable when the world was at arm’s length.

Jack doesn’t say anything, and an uncomfortable silence descends. I try to go back to my work, but it’s hopeless. I shut the computer lid and turn to him.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I say. “I’m just overextended at work.”

“What’s new?” he asks. He wears a small smile, but it’s pasted on. His tone is sullen.

I sigh and rub my eyes, willing myself to be patient. I need to make an effort, even if I don’t have time for it. And also I’d sounded a bit too much like Dad just now for my comfort. “What does that mean?” I ask.

Jack shrugs. “It just feels like you’re always stressed out about work. I’ve been here for a month, and we haven’t done anything together.”

“What? You want to go see the Statue of Liberty?” I ask sarcastically. I immediately regret it. Why do I have to be such an asshole? Every time I open my mouth, my father talks out of it.

“Okay, look,” I say. “It really has been a uniquely trying time at work lately.” Evie flashes through my mind once again. She’d dressed down today for casual Friday, a tradition everyone in the office takes part in except for me. She’d worn a white shirt and a tight pair of jeans, black boots and a black leather jacket. She’d look good enough to eat.

I push past the image. “When things slow down we can do something.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Yeah, somehow I don’t think things ever ‘slow down’ around there.”

He’s not wrong. I sigh. “Okay then what? You want to do something?” I check my watch. It’s 8 o’clock and it’s looking like I’m not going to get anything more done today. I was going to sit around the apartment with a glass of Scotch and think about my (Evie) problems before going to bed, but I suppose I could give that time to Jack instead.

His eyes light up. “Wait, are you serious?” he asks. The excitement on his face actually makes me feel a little bad. I’ve made the kid’s week just because I’m throwing him a little attention. I’m glad that I’m not having kids. If this trial run is any indication, I’d be a terrible parent.

“Yeah,” I say with a small smile. “Whatever you want. Lay it on me.”

“Have you heard of a club called Naked City?”

I would stranglethis kid if there weren’t so many goddamn witnesses.

I’m standing on the street outside of a four-story building in the East Village surrounded by rich douchebags and my very excited younger brother.

Oh and about eight of his equally excited friends. All of whom are rich douchebags.

I knew just from the name that Naked City would not be my scene, but I agreed in the apartment because it was literally the very least I could do. Why not? In the name of brotherly bonding time I could put up with bad music and overpriced drinks for a couple hours.

But once we got to the place, it quickly became apparent that I’d fallen for a ruse.

We got out of my private car in front of the doors, and I was just taking in the sea of trendy designer clothing and enough diamond-studded chains to strangle a yak when Jack said, “Oh, by the way, a couple of my friends might join us.”

Before I could even process the information, we were accosted by a mob of kids all of whom looked under the age of twenty. The guys had the disdainful, haughty look of rich kids with their hip haircuts and top-of-the-line shoes. The girls sported long, bleached hair and tans. Immediately upon seeing me they started to toss their manes and give me flirty looks.

I looked straight over their heads and wished I were anywhere but here.

The feeling hasn’t dissipated.

“Broooo, I was telling these guys you wouldn’t come through.” One of the guys catches Jack’s hand and then slaps him on the back. He turns to me, looking me up and down, and says, “What’s up, Nick. I’m Chip. How’s it hanging?”

I stare in disbelief at this boy who’s laboring under the mistaken belief that we are anywhere close to a first-name basis.

Then I look at Jack. You’ve got to be kidding me, my glare says.

He grins back, half sheepish, half gloating at having pulled one over on me. To be honest, it’s something I would have done at his age and I’d be impressed if I weren’t so fucking annoyed. At least when I was his age I knew better than to hang out with morons like these.

I gesture for him to come here, and he reluctantly breaks away from the safety of his friend group to join me off to the side.

“Look—” he starts.

I cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t. Don’t even try,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” he tries anyway.

“I don’t forgive you,” I say flatly. “You don’t think I have better things to do than hang out with your friends tonight? Why am I even here?”

“I thought you might want to meet them,” he says.

I give him a look. “Bullshit,” I say. “Come on. Spit it out.”

Jack looks over his shoulder and then at the pavement. “Fine,” he says. “Look, this place is really exclusive. We’ve been trying to get in for weeks. But you need to be really famous or really rich to skip the line. So I thought that…”

I rub my eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

Jack clasps his hands. “Come on, man. Please? I’ll be a legend if you get us in here.”

I put my hands on my hips, the businessman in me sensing leverage. Maybe I can solve one of my problems right now.

“Okay, I’m going to make a deal with you,” I say. “I’ll get you in there. I’ll even get a private table, though that’s less for you and more so that these people’s sweat doesn’t get all over my suit. But on Monday you’re getting a job.”

He starts to protest but I talk over him. “It doesn’t have to be with me. It could be at a deli for all I care. But you’re getting a job and you’re signing up for GED classes. That’s my price.”

Jack waffles, looking between his eager friends and me. I check my watch. “This offer is only good for another thirty seconds,” I say. “Then I’m getting back in my car and going home.”

He relents. I’m not sure if I’m happy about it or not. He takes my offered hand and we shake on it. As we do so, I can’t resist saying, “But I am baffled you want to hang out with these people at all.”

“Oh come on,” Jack says. “They aren’t that bad.”

The group is taking a big selfie in front of the building, tongues out and middle fingers raised. Yes, they definitely are “that bad” and I can’t help but wonder if Jack getting a job is worth entrenching him further with this crowd.

A problem for later. For now I just need to get through this night.

I ignore the kids and go up to the bouncer at the head of the endless line that hasn’t moved at all in the time since we’ve arrived.

“There’s a line, pal,” he grunts.

“What’s it take to get in here?” I ask flatly.

He glances at me, noting my clothes with a professional eye, and asks, “How many followers do you have on Instagram?”

“Zero,” I say flatly.

“You famous?”

“No.”

“Then you’re a rich guy?”

“Bingo,” I say. “How much is this going to cost me?”

One significant check later, I’m in hell. The center of the building is open from the ground floor to the top where a glass ceiling shows the surrounding towers stretching overhead. Ringing the open space are banisters on each floor, illuminated by pulsing, flashing lights, behind which people either dance or stand, looking over to watch the main floor below and chugging drinks that probably cost sixty bucks a pop. The main floor itself is a gyrating, sweaty mass of humanity. At least nobody appears to actually be naked.

I manage to find someone who works there and shell out again for a private seating area on the second floor. Before long, I’m sitting on a black leather sofa that’s sticky from the sweat of whoever was sitting there before us, sipping from a glass of Scotch that’s swill compared to my private collection, and trying to avoid the attention of an eighteen-year-old friend of Jack’s.

“I’ll bet you have a huge company,” she says, enunciating the word “huge” and scooching so close she’s practically sitting on my lap. I look around for help but Jack, Chip, and the rest of the guys have all dipped out to the bar for drinks, leaving me sitting with a collection of girls so young I look like a predator.

“Excuse me,” I say stiffly and flee the scene. I’m not needed anymore. Let Jack and his idiot friends enjoy the space. I have no interest in having a conversation with any of them anyway.

Unfortunately that leaves me with the problem of where to go myself. I’m not buying another seat; I’ve already given this place too much money. I should just go home.

I’m almost to the door when I stop. As irritating as this club is, at least it’s pushing my work problems squarely to the back of my mind. I’m not too eager to return to that dark, empty apartment to be alone with my thoughts. Maybe I should stay. I think back to what Jack had essentially told me earlier, that I need to get laid.

He’s not wrong, but has it really come to this? Picking up women in a trashy club?

I move to an open spot at the flashing bar and lean against it, looking out over the sea of women.

My sex life is pretty boring, almost clinical, another task to be accomplished, and lately I’ve been so busy that it’s been constantly pushed to the back burner.

But even when I was getting laid more regularly, I never went out and picked up women at bars. Approaching Evie on the train had been completely out of character for me. No, to put it simply, I have a roster of women I’ve met over the years who I can call for a quick fuck.

Saying it that way sounds callous, but they know the score, and it’s not like they’re complaining. We drink top-shelf liquor, we hook up, we say goodbye as she gets into the private car I call to send her back to whatever corner of New York she came from. No television afterward. No sleeping over. Definitely no cuddling. Anyone who starts to toe these boundaries isn’t asked back.

So really I should just go back to my apartment and call one of those women. Anyone here is untested, an unknown who could get the wrong idea, think that I’m an available bachelor to be shot, stuffed, and hung on the wall of peaceful domestic bliss. And if not that, at the very least they could try to turn on an episode of The Office afterward.

The horror, the horror.

Still, for reasons unknown, I linger.

A couple very attractive women are making eye contact with me, even as they dance on other men. One, a leggy brunette, holds my gaze as she grinds on her man, biting her lip and then beckoning me with a finger. I glance at the guy and realize he’s making eye contact just as strongly. I quickly look away. Not looking to be the meat in this couple’s freaky sex sandwich.

Okay, that’s it. I’m going home. Maybe Katya is back from Moscow. She’s a special woman; her complete lack of emotion is found only in serial killers and my ideal sex partners. Then again?—

Suddenly I realize I’ve made steady eye contact with a striking young woman with black hair and green eyes. Only she’s looking at me differently than the others have been. This one’s looking at me like she knows me. And then with a jolt of recognition I realize that I know her too. It’s Mickey, the intern always attached at the hip to…

Fuck.

From behind the shell-shocked Mickey, squeezing through the crowd, a frown on her beautiful face, an untouched drink in her hand, is Evie. And my god does she look ravenous.

A tight red dress hugs her curves, pushing full breasts out deliciously. Her heels add three inches to her height, and they make her shapely legs look even longer. My gaze follows them up to where the dress ends at her upper thigh. I imagine my hand there, pushing it back and up. The dress is so short it wouldn’t take much to reveal her pussy. Where has this slutty side of Little Miss Business Attire been? The sight is enough to make my cock hard and my mouth water.

Evie doesn’t realize yet why Mickey isn’t moving. I tear my gaze away from her body and watch with a small smirk as her eyes travel to her friend’s face and then follow Mickey’s expression all the way to me.

Our eyes connect with a jolt that goes straight to my dick. She’s wide-eyed and gaping. I’ve recovered quickly enough to look smooth.

I raise my glass to her. Of course she’s here. Why wouldn’t she be here? The universe is obviously fucking with me, but two can play at that game. I’ll fuck the universe right back.

I swallow the rest of my drink, place the glass behind me on the bar without looking, and stride toward her. The crowd parts around me, a perk of being taller than just about everyone here. Evie stays lodged in place, not moving a muscle until I’m right on top of her.

“What are you doing here?” she blurts out.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I say. My eyes flit down to her dress, to its plunging neckline and painted-on tightness. “I didn’t think this was your scene.”

She flushes under my gaze and I get a thrill that I can cause her body to react without even touching it.

“It’s not,” she says. “It’s—” She looks around, presumably for Mickey, her backup. But Mickey appears to have disappeared in a poof of fruit-scented body spray.

I can’t help it. I reach out and use a single finger to turn Evie’s chin back to me. She allows it, surprise once again stunning her into compliance. But then she bats my hand away.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Redirecting your attention,” I say.

“Why?” she asks. Evie is trying to keep her face neutral but there’s annoyance in her sharp blue eyes. “At work you act like you can barely stand to be in the same room with me.”

“We’re not at work, are we?” I ask.

I have her there. Her mouth twists. I don’t know what I’m doing. I want this woman, but I can’t have her. I have rules against this. She could be the ruin of everything I’ve built. She has the power to destroy the man I’ve worked so hard to become. I should go home and call Katya and bury myself in my work until this lunacy goes away.

But my feet stay planted; I’m not going anywhere. Because I’ve never been a man who walks away from something he wants.

I bend down and whisper in her ear, “If you walked into work dressed like that I’d bend you over my desk and fuck you until you begged me to let you come.”

She jerks back, those perfect lips parting in surprise, and in lust. We have nothing in common in our personalities and yet I know we both feel this magnetic force between us. Right now her skin is crawling with anticipation, just like mine. This is going to happen. I’ve never been so sure of something in my life.

I reach out, grabbing her by the upper arms. God, she’s beautiful. And right now, she’s giving in. In this moment I could do anything I wanted to her.

I lean forward, her lips getting closer, both of our muscles taut and straining, and?—

“Brooo!” A drunken arm is swung over my shoulders and I’m cruelly ripped out of the moment and away from Evie by my drunk and high little brother.

It’s like a bucket of water has been dumped on my head. Suddenly I’m back in a loud, disgusting crowd surrounded by inebriated, sweaty strangers.

Jack is hanging off my neck, barely able to keep his feet under him, but I shake him off anyway, glaring at him in a way that would rattle the most ruthless businessmen. Jack barely seems to notice; my powers have never worked well on relatives. No, Jack has other things on his mind. He’s finally realized that he’d interrupted something, and I do not like the way he’s looking at Evie.

“Hey,” he slurs, offering a hand. “Jack.”

I risk a glance at Evie. She also looks like she’s been ripped out of a dream, blinking and flushed. She’s looking at Jack like she’s not quite sure what he is.

“My younger brother,” I say gruffly. Understanding floods her face.

“Oooh,” she says, taking his hand and shaking it lightly. “So you’re the one who dragged Nick here.”

A boozy grin crosses Jack’s face. “I’m the one,” he says. He claps me on the back. “He didn’t want to but it looks like he’s having fun now.”

I’m not sure what part of my expression implies that, but I don’t correct him.

“You’re here with friends?” Jack asks, looking around hopefully like there might be a gaggle of hot girls waiting on the sidelines.

“Just her bestie,” Mickey says, reappearing as quickly as she left and hooking an arm through Evie’s.

Jack looks even more pleased at the sight of the stunning girl. “You two should come up and join us,” he says. “We have a private area upstairs.”

The absolute last thing I want is for Evie to see me surrounded by Jack’s gaggle of underage idiots. “I don’t think—” I start quickly.

“We’d love to,” Evie says over me. She flashes me a grin that says she knows that this is going to be humiliating for me and she’s excited to see it. Before I can put in another word, Jack is leading the way up to the second story and all I can do is follow.

My absence has not aged any of Jack’s friends. They’re in the process of doing shots as we approach, and when Chip sees us with Evie and Mickey in tow he chokes on the liquor, a moment from doing a comical spit take.

The rest of the guys follow his gaze and their reactions would be funny if it weren’t Evie they were undressing with their eyes. They practically drool when they see her, shifting instantly into puffed up poses meant to display their meager muscles.

Evie and Mickey look at each other, and I’m delighted to see Evie’s expression seems to say that embarrassing me might not be worth it.

I walk up behind her and say into her ear, “I tried to get you out of it.”

She whips around at my sudden presence inches from her and looks defiantly up into my eyes. “They look nice,” she says.

We turn as one to see half a dozen pairs of hostile female eyes, the girls having realized that competition has arrived.

“Looks fun,” I say. “Sure you don’t want to slip out of here?”

“That hardly seems appropriate, Mr. Madison,” she teases.

Nothing about my thoughts right now is appropriate.

“Mr. Madison?” I ask. “Who’s that? I’m Nick, remember.” I cock my head. “We met on a train.”

“Hmmm… I don’t remember that ending so well,” she says.

“I don’t believe it’s ended yet at all.”

She stares into my eyes, and then the smallest of smiles teases at the edges of her lips. “Well, Nick, unfortunately I’m here with Mickey. And I’m not abandoning her to whatever this is behind us.”

Mickey, however, doesn’t seem to want to spend time here just to give Evie ammunition in our ongoing war. She taps on Evie’s shoulder and says, “Uh, babe? I’d go to the moon for you, but every friendship has its limits.” She nods at Chip, who’s making some sort of disgusting gesture with his tongue. “I think I’m going to go find that sexy Viking from earlier.”

Evie’s face doesn’t change. I can’t suppress my smile.

“Sounds like Mickey has defected,” I say.

Evie looks behind her again at the couches of teens, weighing if she wants to go into that pit of depravity alone just to spite me. Logic wins out.

“Apologize to your brother for me,” she says, starting to go.

“Wait a minute.”

My command halts her in her tracks, her body responding to my voice even though her brain knows better. She turns reluctantly.

“What, Nick?” she asks.

“I believe I asked you if you wanted to get out of here,” I say.

Evie puts her hands on her hips. “And I believe I told you that I don’t date co-workers.”

“Have you?”

“Well if I haven’t, I’m telling you now.”

“Then I’ll respond by pointing out that I’m not a coworker. I’m your boss. And I’m not asking you on a date.”

Evie’s cheeks redden. “If I won’t date coworkers, I don’t think it needs to be said that I also won’t fuck my boss.”

I raise my eyebrows innocently. “Fuck? Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to buy you a proper drink at a joint that doesn’t serve flaming shots.”

Evie crosses her arms. “And why do you want to do that? You’ve spent the last few weeks running away from me every time we might happen to be alone together.”

I scowl. “I don’t run from anyone, least of all you.”

Sensing a sore spot, Evie pokes harder. “Oh really? You practically sprinted out of that design meeting we had this morning.”

I had, and yes it was because I’d looked up from my computer to realize that Tom was walking out the door and the only other person in the room was Evie. But it wasn’t because I was scared to be in the same room with her. It was because I apparently can’t be trusted to stay professional when it comes to her.

But I can’t exactly tell her that.

“I had somewhere important to be,” I say.

Evie looks around. “Ah yes. I can see that. Did you all pregame at your apartment?”

“I’m not wasting top shelf whiskey on people that couldn’t distinguish it from Jack Daniels,” I say. “Not to mention that I wouldn’t let a single one of them into my apartment with a gun to my head. Jack’s bad enough as it is.”

Evie glances back, following my gaze. Jack is trying and failing to talk up a girl who’s staring at me unabashedly.

“Looks like you’re killing his game,” she says.

“First in a long string of things I can’t seem to get right with him,” I mutter.

“Hey,” Evie says, “you’re here, aren’t you?”

“Barely,” I reply and quickly change the subject. “So tell me. Are you going to go down into that sweaty mess just to spite me, or will you admit that this isn’t your scene and come someplace better with me?”

Evie is still hesitating, but the battle is almost over.

“Just a drink?” she asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

“One drink,” I promise.

“No strings attached?”

I make a gesture of crossing my heart. “Not a one.”

Evie bites her lip and then sighs. “I have to make sure it’s okay with Mickey.”

That sounds like victory to me. Maybe this night won’t turn out to be so bad after all.