Stepbrother Billionaire(32)
Author: Colleen Masters

“Drinks?” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “What drinks are those?”

“The drinks we’re going to have tomorrow night. I know a great martini bar around here. It’s not as good as champagne in a motel room…”

My heart flips over as he immediately brings up our fated night as lovers. Christ, he knows how to go right for the jugular, doesn’t he?

“Last time I checked, I hadn’t agreed to a drink,” I remind him.

“True. But you know what tomorrow is, don’t you?” he grins.

Of course. If Saturday is my birthday, then tomorrow is his.

“You want to spend your birthday…with me?” I ask.

“I do,” he replies.

“Don’t you have some leggy, blonde supermodel to entertain?” I shoot back.

“Several,” he says without missing a beat, “But I’d still rather hang out with you. Meet me at Clinton and Houston at eight. Wear something fancy.”

I know that there’s no way he’s going to let me off the hook, here. The best I can do is say yes now and blow him off tomorrow.

“Fine,” I say crisply, extending my hand for him to shake, “See you then.”

I swallow a gasp as he scoops up my hand, draws it to his lips, and plants a kiss there. Someone turned into a gentlemen over the past eight years. I wonder how the hell that happened?

“Looking forward to it,” he smiles, holding onto my hand for longer than is necessary. “And don’t you dare blow me off, Ab. It is my birthday, after all.”

I turn on my heel and hurry away, feeling all the blood in my body rush to my head. It’s a good thing I’m familiar with this city by now, because I can’t pay a lick of attention to anything all the way home. In the blink of an eye I’m staggering, dazedly, back into my apartment. I drop my purse onto the floor and flop onto the couch, staring straight ahead of me, unseeing. Riley pokes her head out of her bedroom as she hears me enter.

“Hey! How’d it go?” she asks.

“I got the job,” I tell her, my voice flat.

“That’s great, Abby!” she squeals, rushing out to join me on the couch. She stops short at my glazed expression. “Abby? Isn’t that great?”

“Sure,” I tell her, “The job is great. It’s perfect, actually. Amazing company, good salary, nice benefits. Oh! And Emerson Sawyer happens to work there, too. So there’s that.”

Riley stares at me blankly. I haven’t uttered Emerson’s name for years—well, not while sober, anyway.

“Are you shitting me?” Riley hisses. “You saw Emerson today? At your new company?”

“Oh yeah. He’s going to be showing me the ropes,” I tell her. “Or he would be, if I was going to take the job. Which I’m obviously not.”

“Excuse me?” Riley exclaims. “Why the hell would you not take it?”

“Did you miss the part about Emerson working there?” I shoot back. “As in my one-time brother, long-lost lover, walked out of my life forever and broke my heart into a million little pieces Emerson?”

“No, I caught that loud and clear,” Riley replies, slinging an arm over my shoulder. “And there’s no way you’re passing up a dream job because he happens to be working at the same company. If anything, his working there should be a perk!”

“What,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“Now you can rekindle your romance at last!” Riley exclaims, “It’s kismet!”

“It’s a train wreck waiting to happen,” I correct her. “In case you’re forgetting, we didn’t exactly end on great footing, Emerson and I.”

“So what? It was your parents who fucked everything up back then,” Riley presses, “You could totally hit it off now that you’re adults.”

“God. Did you give him a pep talk too or something?” I ask, shaking my head, “He asked me out for a birthday drink about three seconds after we’d run into each other.”

“What?!” Riley shrieks, pulling me to my feet. “He asked you out?! For when?!”

“Tomorrow,” I tell her, wiggling out of her excited grasp. “But don’t get your hopes up, it’s not happening. No way. No how.”

All at once, Riley snaps from giddy girlfriend to drill sergeant mode. Stepping into my path, she plants her hands on her hips and levels a glare at me that could cut through diamond.

“Abigail Cecily Rowan,” she begins. “For the past eight years, I have watched you pine away for this person, miss him beyond all comprehension, and refuse to get serious with anyone else because no one could ever take his place in your heart. Now, all of a sudden, fate has deposited him back into your lap, and you’re seriously thinking of bailing? That, my dear, just will not do. I am not going to stand by while you flip off destiny and forever ruin your happily-ever-after chances because you’re afraid of getting hurt again. You will take this job. You will let Emerson back into your life. And you will start tomorrow with a drink on his birthday. Do I make myself clear?”

Looking into Riley’s furious face, I realize two things. First, I’ve been dying for someone to give me permission to see what happens from here with Emerson. I don’t know how to give it to myself, of course, so thank god she’s here. Second, even if I didn’t want to see him ever again, she would make me anyway. So, this is looking like a win-win.

“Will you at least help me pick out something to wear?” I ask softly.

“Please,” she scoffs, “As if I’d let you dress yourself for something this important.”

And just like that, the matter is settled. I let myself consider the possibility that maybe running into Emerson today wasn’t a cruel joke from the universe, but a gift. A super sexy, super loaded, super intelligent gift wrapped up in an incredible person that I’ve loved since I was a kid, that is.

Chapter Thirteen

After trying on twenty outfits, getting in at least three fights with Riley, and nearly booking a plane ticket to Canada rather than going through with this evening, I make it out the door to meet Emerson. He’s asked me to meet him back on the Lower East Side, just a stone’s throw from the Bastian offices. I arrive a few minutes after eight and linger on the corner. The birthday boy is nowhere in sight.

Riley dressed me up in a deep red dress with a low-cut back and tasteful scoop neckline. My blonde hair is arranged in a loose chignon, and the warm spring night doesn’t even require me to wear a jacket. My stomach is a little fluttery, and I’m still halfway convinced that I dreamed up seeing Emerson the other day, but I’m willing to stand here for another five seconds or so before I flee.