FREE PREVIEW - The Billionaires and The Booknerd
Chapter One
Brooklyn
I stood in the center of the bathroom, staring at the reflection of the lavish chairs behind me. There were drapes covering every inch of the walls, delicate fabric that shimmered in the soft bathroom light. The entire room was blanketed with rich burgundy and sunflower yellow, the vibrant mixture of colors giving out a warm glow. It was like a childhood blanket or a fort of protection from the storm—and I was right in the middle of it.
It seemed odd to appear so sad in the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. I was wearing my sister's creation, a wonderful mixture of white satin and silver chiffon that sparkled every which way I turned. Truly, it was a dress made for Cinderella. The bust was a strapless corset with a broach in the shape of a diamond that matched the sparkling stars glittering from top to bottom.
The bottom of the dress dusted the tile floor, and my heels were made to match. I even had a tiara in my hair that accentuated my black bangs while the rest of my hair sat up in a braided bun. There were jewels in my hair as well. I was covered.
And I felt like a lie.
“You look amazing!" Peyton shouted from the doorway. She had a way of being super annoying without really being annoying—but I think it was just a sister thing. “I have to get the photographer. Did you get your mask?”
I held up the crystal mask in my hand, the one that would cover the top half of my face. I was more than happy to participate in this ball as long as I had the mask. I didn't really want anyone to know who I was, but I also did. I wanted to show people that bookworms could be successful and sexy. It was the condition upon which I showed up.
I wanted people to see me instead of the mound of books surrounding me.
“No one will ever believe it's you,” she said giddily while stepping up beside me. “And you'll blend right in.”
“I did that pretty well before.”
“Oh, don't be drab, Brook. It's going to be an awesome night. Maybe you'll hook up with somebody, maybe even Brett.”
“Not with my old boss.”
She shrugged. “He is sort of boring, isn't he?”
“Well, he's just like me, so that's saying something.”
“No way! He's boring because he chooses to be boring. You're just full of information, and people can find that boring. I certainly don't.”
“Don't feel obligated to compliment me tonight, Peyton.”
“You're my sister. I'm always going to compliment you.”
I smiled warmly at her reflection while rubbing my bare arm. “Sorry—I'm just really nervous. I never do these things.”
“That's why I invited you. You're always in that library with those dusty books. All that dust probably clogs up your brain. You need to unwind, sissy.”
“A few drinks should do it.”
“Should we have our famous cocktail?”
I giggled. “You mean the one we named after our favorite movie star?”
“Let me get a J. Reynolds, please.”
We broke into laughter as two women wandered into the restroom. As they passed us, we headed for the door. Peyton tangled her arm around my waist, and I fixed the mask over my face. We were fast approaching the entrance to the ball.
It was my moment to shine.
Now, if I could just keep from shaking, I'll do just fine.
Peyton was known for throwing the most lavish parties in town in the most luxurious of spaces. No expense spared—that was her motto. The proceeds always went to charity, which drew in the most expensive tastes in Arizona from men's magazine owners to fashion designers alike. Everybody was drawn to the party—and to Peyton.
She was always pretty and popular, successful, and sweet. I never quite understood how we were sewn from the same fabric. I was so much more drab and different from her, a truly old book that was bound with fine leather but ultimately looked unappealing. Peyton could socialize. I couldn't. That's all.
When we walked through the doors, the entire room turned to greet Peyton. I guess they were looking at me, too. There were so many masked faces, and I wasn't sure if that made me feel better or worse—I guess that would depend on how drunk I could get.
I wandered away from Peyton as a small crowd gathered around her. She was definitely the popular one. She could talk to just about anybody in a room while all I wanted to do was find the nearest exit and bolt. But I had promised her I would come. I had sworn that I would wear this dress and make my appearance. I would socialize and try to fit into the elite crowd that really just made me want to barf.
I headed for the bar. There was a medley of choices, all of them more appealing than the last. I chose a whiskey sour to start. I needed to hit hard if I was going to make any progress in lubricating my social skills. A tall man in a fine suit drew up beside me.
“Hey, Brook,” he said. “You look wonderful.”
“Thanks, Brett. How did you recognize me?”
“Peyton told me what you were going to wear.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, she did.”
“Should we go for a dance?”
“I don't know. The floor is empty. I don't think I've had enough liquor yet.”
He placed a reassuring hand on the small of my back. I gave him a polite smile.
“Well,” he said. “There's always time for another drink. Let me get your next one.”
I leaned against the bar, his hand still on my back. It felt nice to have human touch for a moment. I wasn't worried about it being inappropriate considering he was my previous boss. His opinion—whether it was high or low—couldn't influence my current job.
I turned slowly and he turned with me, keeping an arm around my waist. I felt claimed. It wasn't the best feeling,
