Billionaires Dollar Series

“It’s my job, Maddie.”

I turn away from him, away from the culinary institute. I’m probably walking in the wrong direction from where I parked my car, but I need to move. Get away from him looking at me like that.

Like I’d been a fool for expecting him to act any differently.

A familiar burst of humiliation explodes in my stomach, because I’ve done it again. Sometime over the last couple of weeks I’ve gotten comfortable. Forgotten that we’re not anything, that we were friends once but it’s not clear that we are again.

Let myself hope against reason that this could… that we could…

Relationships aren’t for me. Jason had illustrated that-Liam has confirmed it. There’s no way I’ll let myself get hurt again.

“It’s fine.”

Liam’s hand on my arm drops, his gaze searching my face. “You’re pissed.”

“I’m not pissed.”

“You don’t think I can tell? I’ve known you since we were six.”

“Yeah, well, there was over a decade there where you didn’t know me at all.” I look away from the intensity of his eyes. “A decade where I didn’t know you at all.”

The differences yawn between us, clearer to me than they’ve been for weeks. I’m back in the kitchen at Cole Porter’s, a half-remembered stranger in front of me covered in marinara sauce.

Perhaps we’re just clinging to what we once used to be and not who we actually are today. I’m not someone who’s ready to play second fiddle to the numbers on his screen.

My ambition isn’t less important than his.

Liam steps back. “Okay. Fine. I wasn’t here, and it’s your right to be… angry about that.”

“Damn right.”

“Let me drive you home, at least. There’s a bottle of champagne in my trunk to celebrate.”

“There’s no reason to celebrate. I haven’t gotten the fellowship yet.”

He bites into his lower lip, eyes narrowing. “Fine.”

“Fine.” I reach into the pocket of my jeans and pull out the engagement ring. It had felt too risky to wear it today, but I’d kept it close, a good luck token. “I forgot to give you this yesterday, when we left the party.”

Liam stares down at the glittering ring in my open palm for a few moments. His chest rises and falls, and I get the absurd idea that he’s considering knocking it out of my hand altogether.

But then he accepts it, his hand curling into a fist around the ring. “Thanks.”

“I’m driving straight to Fairfield this evening. To my parents’.”

He nods once. His face is impassive, strong features inscrutable. “Spending the weekend there?”

“Yeah. I’m back on Monday.”

“Can I call you next week? Perhaps when you’re not… not angry anymore?”

Twenty-seven letters in the English language, and a million possible words, but there’s no combination that feels right.

“Sure,” I say, turning around. “See you around, Carter.”

Whiskey usually helps. Champagne sometimes too, although it’s never dark enough for my needs. Gin and tonics-deceitfully easy to drink. I need something that burns going down.

It’s the only way I’ll purge the guilt ravaging my throat like a wildfire.

Guilt in every which direction, in every relationship. Beyond Albert, I can’t think of a single person I know intimately that I haven’t let down in the past forty-eight hours.

My mind itemizes them effortlessly. Cole. Nick. Ethan.

Maddie.

The whiskey isn’t enough to burn away the dismissive look in her eyes. I’d prepared for anger. For irritation. For groveling.

Not cool detachment.

And not the announcement that she’s pulling a disappearing act over the weekend.

I swirl the tumbler around, watching the amber liquid. It’s easier than facing the numbers on the screen.

Drinking and investing.

It’s been years since that was my lifestyle, but here I am again.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Just you and me, old friend.” I raise my glass to my computer and all three of the screens. I seldom day-trade anymore, but they’re there just in case.

They don’t respond.

And it’s so fucking quiet in this giant apartment I’d rented, in this giant fucking high-rise in the middle of a city I thought I’d left behind for good.

There’s nothing in my fridge for lunch. Staring down at the food delivery app in my phone, the two familiar choices listed under Order again? feel like a personal attack.

That’s how I find myself grabbing the keys to the ostentatious car I’d bought when I moved back and basically never driven. I head to Greenwood Hills, waving at the security guard as I pass the familiar gates.

Ethan’s home, because of course he is, with a six-month-old baby, a new puppy and two little girls. The man has become so domestic that he should be the one to wear the collar.

Bella’s voice rings out through the intercom. “Liam?”

“In the flesh,” I confirm. “I’m here to crash family time.”

“You are family, silly.”

The door swings open for me and I can’t believe I’m here, doing this, willingly walking in to talk to my brother about how badly I’ve screwed up. Assuaging guilt with more guilt is definitely the way to go. Two negatives cancelling one other out, and all that.

“Come in, come in.” A bright-eyed Bella opens the door with a smile. Her brown hair is in a messy bun, a wriggling form in her arms.