The Billionaire and the Geek (Love On The Flip Side #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Chase Knightly

Sane, normal people would say I’m too old for this shit. Too old to be having fun with a plane full of men and women twenty years younger than me.

If any of those sane, normal, boring people ever dared tell me that to my face, I’d say I’m young at heart, I always know how to have fun, and also, fuck them.

Both grooms invited their closest friends, and all of us who live in England are currently on the private jet on our way to Ibiza for this extravagant double bachelor party.

Out of the ten people on board, the only person besides me who was invited by Nate is Noah, a friend he made at grad school in Oxford. All his other friends will meet us there because they’re flying in from the US.

Nate let me know that two more of Ru’s guests will also meet us there, and with a cheeky grin he added that otherwise we’ll be surrounded by “the enemy,” meaning not American.

I greeted everyone as naturally as possible, and got through it easily enough at first by not letting on how aware I was of our age differences, but when Noah came in I had to keep my chill for completely different, thrilling but also embarrassing reasons—the man is gorgeous.

I didn’t know the friend Nate made in Oxford, the one he’s been telling me about for close to two years, would be the perfect embodiment of everything I find attractive in a man.

I also wasn’t aware I could even feel that kind of make-your-knees-weak attraction for a man who’s so much younger than me.

Yet here we are . . . stuck in a plane for another two hours on our way to the land of debauchery, where we’ll spend three days making bad choices. Or at least that was what Nate said the plan is.

I need to focus on something else, though, literally anything else, so I pick the obvious choice.

The other six people who are currently chatting, drinking champagne, and laughing in the cabin of the jet are not only a guest of The Honorable Rupert Francis Harrington Cardew, but probably also have a pedigree as spiffy as Ru’s.

In all my years living in England, I’ve learned there is a great variety in the quality of aristocrats.

Ru’s one of the good ones, and I’ve loved getting to know him better since he took over his father’s company and now helps manage my wealth. Of course, thanks to his relationship with Nate, he’s also become one of the few people who know me as more than the Midas of venture capitalism.

I’ve known Nate, to some degree, all his life. His father is a few years older than me, but we grew up in the same circles, and have done business together many times over the years, but the best way to describe our connection is to say I’m a friend of the family.

Certain New York families have been close for centuries at this point, and it’s easier to shed the mask of societal propriety when I’m around people who understand what that life was like for me.

Like me, Nate escaped to the other side of the pond, but it still feels like a slice of home whenever we have dinner together.

That’s probably why I enjoy myself so much on the flight to Ibiza, why I allow myself the chance to laugh and chat without measuring every single word I say.

Ru’s sister Petra and her best friend Jenna are a riot, telling tales about some party they went to last month and all the scandals that resulted from it. Ru’s friends from school tell me about their new polo centre, and the pictures they show me are impressive enough to have me promising a visit.

The two-and-a-half-hour flight passes by quickly enough, as does the quick drive to the private villas Nate’s best man, Seth, booked for the twenty people invited for the weekend. Seth’s another man I’ve known all his life.

Chaos ensues when Seth starts dividing up rooms, everyone shouting protests at the same time. Seth clearly knows the dangers of mob mentality because he holds his hands up in surrender before giving up completely.

“Fine! There are six rooms in this villa and seven in the other one.”

“We call the master,” Nate shouts before his best man is even done talking.

“I demand a room for myself,” I say as fast as my mouth can move. “I’m not bunking with any of you animals.”

“The old man has spoken,” Nate agrees and claps his hands once.

“Do you want to room with us?” Petra asks Nate’s sister Chelsea.

“Oh my god, really?” she asks excitedly, then remembers her husband is right beside her and throws him a guilty wince. “I mean—”

He waves her off.

“It’s fine. I’m going to drag Zack with us so we can find you three a room with enough space.”

“You are a good man,” she says with a dreamy smile.

I make my escape before the real chaos breaks out, and I find the room furthest away from the living room and kitchen. I suspect all the rooms have amazing views, but I still sink down onto the edge of the mattress and look out at the endless Mediterranean.

I’m a fun guy, young at heart, and I know I’m going to have a good time this weekend, but I still need a few minutes to myself.

“I am very lucky,” Nate declares loudly—a.k.a.

drunkenly—over the blaring music in the second villa.

He jumps up on the couch and sways dangerously before Ru steadies him with a hand on his hip.

“I needed to choose between a bunch of people for my best man. I almost chose you, dude.” He points at me, and I’m shocked enough to sputter.

“You did?” I demand.

“Yup.” He nods firmly. “I knew you’d foot the bill for a kickass bachelor party.”

I can’t help but smirk at the little shit.

I know damn well Seth’s paying for all of this.

“Thanks for the ringing endorsement,” I grumble sarcastically.

“And you’d probably have made sure no one had to share rooms if you’d planned this.” He’s got that right. “I also almost made Noah my best man.”

When he points at the thin man with the wild curls and big glasses, I find myself yet again floored by how gorgeous he is.

I’d seen him before, of course, at the airport, on the plane, but now I’m really looking.

Too fucking young, Knightly.

Having my best friend’s voice in my head is pretty irritating, but yeah, Gab isn’t wrong. Sure, Noah’s not a baby by any means, probably in his early thirties or late twenties, but that’s still twenty years my junior. I look away purposefully, but I can’t focus on the rest of Nate’s speech.

Pictures of my lonely past flash in my mind, but somehow that pity party isn’t as painful as when the prospect of my lonely future makes an appearance.

I’ve got to get serious about dating again.

I’m not like Gab. In fact, I’m the opposite of her.

I do want someone to share my life with, and I don’t want children. I’ve achieved almost everything I ever dreamed of since I left Boston behind. I’ve made sure my last name isn’t synonymous with failure and shame.

There’s only one thing left.

Well, two, if other people are to be believed.

“Chase!” Nate shouts, and snaps me the fuck out of that unnecessary mood. By the tone I don’t think it’s the first time he’s called for me, so I hurry over to the other side of the room where he’s standing with . . . yup, Noah.

“What’s up? Want to guilt me into paying for something?”

Pushing all sad and disgustingly entitled thoughts away is the only sane thing to do at the moment, and humor is the easiest path.

“I wanted to introduce you two,” Nate says with a roll of his eyes, still speaking way too loudly.

“I’ve met him, mate,” Noah says, in a tone that implies he’s begged Nate repeatedly not to do whatever he’s about to do.

“No, no,” Nate says stubbornly. “I need to tell Chase that you do the book thing.” He shakes his head twice. “Sorry, just realized how drunk I am. That you’re a literary agent,” he explains, looking up at me with earnest eyes.

And there it is, the other thing.

“Nate—” I start but he cuts me off.

“It’s been years by now, and you haven’t outright rejected any of the offers, and more keep pouring in. You have to make a decision and Noah knows his stuff. If you want to finally get people off your back, you should at least know every option you have.”

He then turns to Noah, meaning I’m stuck staring at the back of his head.

“Lots of publishing houses want his autobiography, and I’m not saying he should do it, but I know you can help him figure it all out.

” He claps Noah on the shoulder. “Not on this trip of course, but I don’t want to keep forgetting to put you two in contact, so just give him your card or something, okay? And you.”

He points a finger right at my face, less than an inch away from my nose.

“Contact him. I don’t wanna hear you whine about this again unless it’s to tell me you’re doing it or not doing it, all right? All right.” He nods to himself and leaves.

And I . . .

I’m left staring at a pair of wide, nervous brown eyes.

“Sorry about that,” I say for some reason.

“Don’t worry,” he says quickly, then reaches back for his phone and holds it out to me.

I’m not too old that I don’t understand what the gesture means.

We’re not exchanging cards, because that’s not something people do anymore.

I put the top of my phone over his and his contact appears on my screen only a couple of seconds after.

“Thanks, Noah Ellington.” I keep staring at the screen, at the letters of his last name for longer than necessary, just buying myself a few more precious seconds to get my breathing in order, my reaction to him in check.

“No problem, Chase Knightly,” he says, when I feel like I’m strong enough to look up again. “And no pressure on calling or anything. If you have any questions, though, I’ll be more than happy to answer any and all of them for you.”

He gives a tiny, frankly adorable nod, and then just . . . leaves.

It feels too sudden, too harsh.

I’ll see him again soon enough, I reassure myself for some strange reason, then once more stuff every unwanted feeling and thought down deep and bolster myself to have a good fucking time.