Stepbrother Billionaire(33)
Author: Colleen Masters

Five…I count down in my head. Four…Three…

I feel a hand on the small of my back and spin around sharply to find Emerson standing before me. And of course, he looks utterly fantastic. A gray blazer, light slacks, and trendy suede loafers have him looking right at home in this neighborhood. And he’s lost the glasses, too—the better for me to ogle his twenty-five-year-old—or rather, twenty-six-year-old face.

“You showed up,” he grins, his eyes gleaming as he gives me a subtle once over.

“Yeah, well,” I shrug, burning up under his gaze. “I can’t resist a martini, so.”

“Hey, I’ll take it,” he replies. “Come on. The bar’s right over here.”

I clutch onto my tiny black purse as Emerson leads us over to an unremarkable doorway embedded in the busy line of shops. He raps the door three times quickly, then twice at a slower pace. I cock an eyebrow at his antics, but before I can say anything, the door swings open for us.

“It’s sort of a speakeasy type place,” he explains, nodding for me to follow him. “Just a little bit exclusive.”

And he’s not kidding, either. As I step into the dimly lit bar after him, I feel my jaw drop. The place is elegant, impeccable, and super swanky. I almost laugh, remembering the little seafood shack we went to on his eighteenth birthday. How far we’ve come! There are only a dozen or so people in here, all of them looking perfect. This must be some elite, secret spot, known only to the rich and famous. Wait a minute…is Emerson rich and famous now himself?

“This is my favorite table,” he tells me, sinking into a plush corner booth.

“You have a favorite table here?” I breathe, sinking down beside him.

“Sure,” he grins, “And a favorite drink too.”

I gape as a martini appears on the table before Emerson. He winks at the server, who clearly knows Emerson’s usual order. The server, dressed in a finer suit than any of the men I’ve dated, asks me for my order.

“I’ll…have what he’s having,” I say faintly.

The man nods and hurries off to fix a drink for me. I look around at the exquisite room, the beautiful patrons, and the specter from my past sitting across the table from me.

“OK,” I say at last, “This, my friend, is officially bizarre.”

“I guess it sort of is,” Emerson laughs, more than happy to acknowledge the strangeness of our reunion. “But, what good thing in life isn’t a little surreal? I say we run with it.”

A perfect martini materializes before me. I thank the server, pluck up the cocktail, and hold up my glass in a toast.

“Well, happy birthday, Emerson,” I say, “I hope you enjoy your one night of being older than me as much as you did when we were kids.”

“Oh, I think I will,” he smiles, clinking his glass to mine.

I take a sip of my drink and freeze, savoring the mind-blowing deliciousness of it. This is top-shelf vodka. The kind that ought to be kept in a safe. A drink like this must cost a fortune. And this is Emerson’s usual?

“So, I guess the past eight years have treated you well?” I ask, stunned by the fineness of the liquor.

“I’ve done OK for myself,” Emerson nods.

“Well, since there’s no elegant segue to be found here, start from the beginning,” I tell him, “How’s your life been, Tank?”

“Oof,” he cringes, “Using my old lacrosse nickname? Harsh.”

“Yeah, well. Old age has hardened me,” I say, trying to keep a straight face. “Now spill!”

“OK, OK,” Emerson says, taking a sip of his drink. “Well, when we last saw each other, shit was going down in flames. Mom had just relapsed, obviously, and I had just…well…”

“Kicked the shit out of grade-A douchebag and gotten expelled,” I finish his thought.

“That would be correct,” Emerson nods. “Mom and I picked up and left. We landed at her sister’s place in Pennsylvania for a minute. We got Mom into rehab, and I found a little apartment outside of Philly. Nice town, you know. I didn’t do much for the next year except visit my mom, take odd jobs to pay rent, and tool around on the computer. I don’t think you knew this about me in high school, but I’ve always been kind of a tech nerd. I became fascinated with programming, data, building things that other people could use.

I got my GED, and told myself I’d take a year to learn some more about programming before applying to college. I took some courses in the city, and found out that I was pretty damn good at the whole thing. The app craze was only just about to take off as I put together my first real project. With a little bit of luck, and a whole lot of venture capital backing, the thing took off. I sold my app, made a ton. Overnight, everything was different. So instead of going to college, I just kept building, and thinking, and meeting new people. Eventually, I ran into Cooper, and he all but handed the European offices of Bastian to me on a silver platter. I’ve been there for a couple of years, and it’s been amazing.”

“So you’re telling me that you went from bad boy jock to tech millionaire?” I ask, staring at him across the table.

“Close,” he says, unable to contain his proud but modest smile. “I went from bad boy jock to tech billionaire.”

My eyes go wide as I try to comprehend the thing he’s just told me. Emerson’s smile fades as I sit silently beside him.

“Sorry, was that a total asshole move?” he asks, frowning, “I don’t know what I was thinking, just bringing that up—”

“No, Emerson,” I say quickly, reaching for his hand before I can stop myself. “It’s amazing. I’m just so, so proud of you.”

In unison, we glance down at our now-clasped hands on the table. Bashful as ever, I lift my fingers away. My skin tingles where it glanced against his. As if I didn’t have enough reason to be nervous around him before, now it turns out that he’s not only my long-lost first love, but also a goddamn billionaire?

This is shaping up to be quite a week, I’ll tell you.

“But…what about you?” Emerson says, breaking the pointed silence, “How did things play out for you?”

“Well,” I begin, taking a nice big sip of my drink. “From the point of our parents’ disastrous one-day marriage, my dad totally wiped out. Relapsed harder than ever. Really just never recovered. My grandparents took me in until high school was over, and then I moved to the city to study at The New School with Riley. We’ve been living together ever since, in this great place my grandparents own…Ugh. Sorry. I sound like such a mooch.”