The Bad Boy Billionaire: What a Girl Wants
Chapter One
Bar Veloce, New York City
“THIS,” I SAID angrily, waving my iPhone. I wanted to slam this down on the table, like I had done with the paper invitation to my high school reunion earlier this summer. But I wasn’t about to risk breaking my iPhone over the Paperless Post invitation intruding upon my inbox.
I settled for firmly placing my phone on the bar. It just wasn’t the same.
Roxanna reached for it, her red manicure a sharp contrast against the black screen.
“No way!” I snatched it back. “I’m not falling for that again.”
Roxanna just grinned. “You’re welcome for setting you up with the love of your life.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, pursing my lips and fighting a smile. It was the polite thing to say and I was always polite. I suppose I did owe her a thank you for her prank Facebook post announcing an engagement between me and Duke Austen, infamously known as the Bad Boy Billionaire. At the point of said announcement, he and I had met (and kissed) just once. That didn’t stop us from a sham engagement, which led to a secret romance. Now we were really, truly in love.
“What is it this time?” Roxanna asked, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. She was perched on a bar stool and sipping bourbon on the rocks. I took the seat next to her and sipped from the chardonnay she’d gone ahead and ordered for me.
“This is the invitation to the party celebrating the IPO of Duke’s startup.”
“How fabulous. Where is it?”
“That’s not the point. It doesn’t even matter, because it’s at the same time on the same night as my high school reunion .”
Roxanna raised one eyebrow. It was one of the traits of hers that I was jealous of, in addition to her carefree attitude, her amazing alcohol tolerance that which allowed her to drink copious amounts of whiskey without getting ridiculously drunk and her ability to talk herself into restaurant tables without a reservation.
“Are you actually torn between which event to attend?” Roxanna asked incredulously. “The hottest party in the city, celebrating the hottest business launch possibly of all time, with free booze and fascinating people. Oh, and your hot boyfriend. Or a party in an old gymnasium with the same old bores you’ve known for half your life. They’ll probably just want to talk about their kids.”
“It’ll be on the terrace at the Milford Country Club,” I replied, but unenthusiastically.
“Oh,” Roxanna sighed. “The country club. Someone get the velvet rope to keep out the riff raff.”
I sighed. “I know Duke’s party will be more fabulous. But why do I have this angst about missing my stupid high school reunion ? I could just go home and hit the pizza parlor on a Friday night and it’d be the same conversations with the same people.”
“Might I point out that you don’t ever have to go back to the pizza parlor on a Friday night? But I get it, Jane. This night is like some sort of finish line you have to cross.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That, and we had a deal. I would pretend to be his good girl fiancée and keep him out of trouble. In return, he’d be my hot and successful boyfriend on a night I’ll sorely need a confidence boost. But we can’t be in both places at the same time. And I held up my end of the bargain.”
“You could go alone,” Roxanna said, demonstrating that she was ballsier than me. “Since you do, in fact, have a hot successful boyfriend not to mention your numerous bestselling books. You shouldn’t need the confidence boost, Jane. You’re fabulous already.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile. “I know this is all silly.”
“Have you talked to Duke about it?”
“Of course not,” I replied. “That’s the mature, logical thing to do.”
“Are you not a mature, logical person?” Roxanna queried. I took a long sip of wine before answering.
“I am the kind of person so desperate for a date to my high school reunion that I faked a relationship.”
“Point taken.” Roxanna said before taking a sip of her bourbon.
My phone, still on the bar between us, buzzed and lit up with an incoming text message. I picked up the phone quickly in case it was something sexy from Duke. He was known to send Snapchats of himself without his shirt on or other flirtatious and naughty texts.
“Is that your bad boy billionaire lover?”
I frowned. “No, it’s Sam. He’s been texting me a lot lately. This one says, ‘How do you feel about second chances?’”
“Weird. Has he forgotten that you two broke up?”
Bar Veloce, New York City
“THIS,” I SAID angrily, waving my iPhone. I wanted to slam this down on the table, like I had done with the paper invitation to my high school reunion earlier this summer. But I wasn’t about to risk breaking my iPhone over the Paperless Post invitation intruding upon my inbox.
I settled for firmly placing my phone on the bar. It just wasn’t the same.
Roxanna reached for it, her red manicure a sharp contrast against the black screen.
“No way!” I snatched it back. “I’m not falling for that again.”
Roxanna just grinned. “You’re welcome for setting you up with the love of your life.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, pursing my lips and fighting a smile. It was the polite thing to say and I was always polite. I suppose I did owe her a thank you for her prank Facebook post announcing an engagement between me and Duke Austen, infamously known as the Bad Boy Billionaire. At the point of said announcement, he and I had met (and kissed) just once. That didn’t stop us from a sham engagement, which led to a secret romance. Now we were really, truly in love.
“What is it this time?” Roxanna asked, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. She was perched on a bar stool and sipping bourbon on the rocks. I took the seat next to her and sipped from the chardonnay she’d gone ahead and ordered for me.
“This is the invitation to the party celebrating the IPO of Duke’s startup.”
“How fabulous. Where is it?”
“That’s not the point. It doesn’t even matter, because it’s at the same time on the same night as my high school reunion .”
Roxanna raised one eyebrow. It was one of the traits of hers that I was jealous of, in addition to her carefree attitude, her amazing alcohol tolerance that which allowed her to drink copious amounts of whiskey without getting ridiculously drunk and her ability to talk herself into restaurant tables without a reservation.
“Are you actually torn between which event to attend?” Roxanna asked incredulously. “The hottest party in the city, celebrating the hottest business launch possibly of all time, with free booze and fascinating people. Oh, and your hot boyfriend. Or a party in an old gymnasium with the same old bores you’ve known for half your life. They’ll probably just want to talk about their kids.”
“It’ll be on the terrace at the Milford Country Club,” I replied, but unenthusiastically.
“Oh,” Roxanna sighed. “The country club. Someone get the velvet rope to keep out the riff raff.”
I sighed. “I know Duke’s party will be more fabulous. But why do I have this angst about missing my stupid high school reunion ? I could just go home and hit the pizza parlor on a Friday night and it’d be the same conversations with the same people.”
“Might I point out that you don’t ever have to go back to the pizza parlor on a Friday night? But I get it, Jane. This night is like some sort of finish line you have to cross.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That, and we had a deal. I would pretend to be his good girl fiancée and keep him out of trouble. In return, he’d be my hot and successful boyfriend on a night I’ll sorely need a confidence boost. But we can’t be in both places at the same time. And I held up my end of the bargain.”
“You could go alone,” Roxanna said, demonstrating that she was ballsier than me. “Since you do, in fact, have a hot successful boyfriend not to mention your numerous bestselling books. You shouldn’t need the confidence boost, Jane. You’re fabulous already.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile. “I know this is all silly.”
“Have you talked to Duke about it?”
“Of course not,” I replied. “That’s the mature, logical thing to do.”
“Are you not a mature, logical person?” Roxanna queried. I took a long sip of wine before answering.
“I am the kind of person so desperate for a date to my high school reunion that I faked a relationship.”
“Point taken.” Roxanna said before taking a sip of her bourbon.
My phone, still on the bar between us, buzzed and lit up with an incoming text message. I picked up the phone quickly in case it was something sexy from Duke. He was known to send Snapchats of himself without his shirt on or other flirtatious and naughty texts.
“Is that your bad boy billionaire lover?”
I frowned. “No, it’s Sam. He’s been texting me a lot lately. This one says, ‘How do you feel about second chances?’”
“Weird. Has he forgotten that you two broke up?”