“Please tell me you’re not trying to set me up on a blind date,” Asher muttered.
“No!” Fiona’s eyes popped open. “My best friend, Daisy, is a writer, and she wants to shadow you because her next book is about billionaires, and well, you’re a billionaire.”
Weston leaned forward. “Oh, this just got interesting.”
Every other franchise owner turned toward Asher.
“She’s a writer.” His gaze narrowed on Fiona.
“Yep.” She nodded.
“Tell him what she writes,” Brogan said to his fiancé .
“Romance.” She smiled, wringing her hands.
Asher took a step backward.
“Oh, it’s really interesting, now,” Ethan said, grinning.
“And she wants to shadow me for a romance novel?” Asher asked, the blood draining from his face. “I mean…what is she looking for exactly?”
Even Gareth was leaning forward now.
“Sex positions,” Weston suggested with a grin as his strawberry-blonde assistant, Brynn, slid in between him and Ethan.
“Not everything is about sex.” Brynn smacked the back of her hand against his chest and reached around him, grabbing his drink and taking a sip of the champagne. He looked down at her and glanced pointedly at the glass. “What? The stuff they’re serving at the bar is awful. You guys got the good stuff.” She stared him straight in the eyes and took another sip.
“Not sex,” Fiona promised. “She wants to get the billionaire aspect of it right. Your schedule, your lifestyle—”
“So she chose the most boring one of us to shadow?” Ethan asked, still smiling.
“She chose the one she knows I can ask,” Fiona fired back.
“The one who’s going to say no because he can’t stand deviating from his schedule,” Weston teased, then ordered another drink from a passing waiter.
Guess even billionaires knew when to surrender.
Asher tilted his head at Fiona. “You know I’m incredibly busy right?”
“Told you,” Weston said to Gareth, who just grunted.
“She’s incredibly thorough and wants to be accurate,” Fiona pressed on, Brogan giving her the nod of approval.
“Oh fuck this, we’ve got it,” Weston said with a grin. “We don’t even have to wait for the game tonight. I’m going to bet you…one of Crossland’s coveted favor chips you have from last month’s game that you won’t do it. You won’t jeopardize your precious little routine.”
Asher’s head whipped toward Weston. “Fuck off. I’m not that rigid.”
“Yeah,” Gareth said, leaning his forearms on the tall table. “You are.”
“And what do I get if I do?” Asher asked Weston.
I rubbed my hand over the velvet back of Evie’s dress as I started to get an idea of how their monthly poker games worked.
“The satisfaction of knowing you won?” Ethan suggested, sipping his drink.
“A chip of your choice to be named once you know the details,” Weston answered. Ethan, Crossland, and Gareth all looked at him. “What? I’m not going to saddle the guy with a bet when he doesn’t even know the details.”
They all muttered inaudible sounds, nodding their heads in annoyed agreement.
Asher looked down at the table, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth, like he was calculating the risk versus reward of doing something as simple as agreeing to a few days of being shadowed.
“She’s really quiet,” Fiona promised.
“Don’t lie to him.” Brogan rolled his eyes. “Daisy is not quiet, but she’s funny and I like her, if that helps.”
“Considering the fact that you don’t like anyone?” Asher asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Exactly.” Brogan shrugged.
“Fine,” Asher said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Tell her that my schedule frees up in a few months. I’m in the middle of some major deals before then and—”
“That’s great!” Fiona interrupted. “She’ll be thrilled! Thank you!”
“I’m so going to regret this,” he mumbled.
“Rich people are weird.” The song changed and I pulled Evie back out on the dance floor.
“Says the rich guy,” Evie laughed, twining her arms around my neck.
“Nah. That over there,” I gestured toward the franchise owners, “is a whole other level of money. I have stupid money, but they have obnoxious, never spend-it-in-a-lifetime money.” I bent slightly and kissed her. “And a girl who is about to have her pictures in Sports Illustrated.”
She smiled against my mouth. “Take me home.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I made it home in record time, doing my best to ignore Evie’s hand as it rose higher and higher on my thigh with each mile we drove. Her fingers grazed the line of my dick by the time we pulled off the highway.
I was going to devour her whole as soon as we got in the fucking house. Shit, maybe I wouldn’t wait for the house. Maybe I’d take her in the car as soon as we parked.
“Tonight was amazing,” she said as we pulled into the neighborhood. “And I thought it would be daunting to be in front of all those reporters, but you made me feel like it was no big deal.”
“I was really proud of you,” I said, gritting my teeth as I turned into the driveway. “And you know what you’re fucking doing to me with those fingers of yours.”