My Brother’s Billionaire Best Friend

by Monroe, Max

  “I just don’t know—” I start to refute, but she raises a hand in the air.

  “Just think about everything that’s gone down between you two.”

  I recount everything in my head.

  His near-overzealous willingness to help me with my career.

  Our constant supply of daily text and phone conversations over the past few weeks.

  The sexting. Holy hell, the sexting.

  Him being here tonight. At the exact kind of party he hates.

  “So,” Lena continues with a little cheeky grin. “You leave the whole you catching a ride home from him tonight to me, and just prepare yourself to put on your big-girl panties and do the one thing you’ve wanted to do for a long fucking time.”

  “Kiss him.”

  Her smile consumes her whole damn face. “Bingo.”

  Holy mother of mangoes, I hope I don’t screw this up.

  Somehow, some-insane-way, Yoda—aka Lena—pulled through.

  With some expert finagling, she made her brother Cap drive her home and arranged for Milo to do the same for me.

  I swear, she might be a witch or something.

  And now, I sit inside Milo’s fancy ride—some kind of sexy sports car that I don’t know the name of—while he drives me to my apartment in Chelsea.

  The normally bustling city streets are empty and bare at this hour of the morning, the clock on the dash shines with two a.m., and soft classical music plays from the speakers.

  I feel like I’m flying.

  High off the night.

  High off the awesome time I had at the party.

  High off Milo’s blue eyes and his full lips and the way he looks when he’s laughing.

  High off him.

  The man is like my own personal drug, one hit off his smile and I’m done for. Addicted. Desperate for more.

  Our conversation hasn’t waned since he showed up at the party this evening. We’ve talked about anything and everything. His business. His favorite places he’s traveled to. My time at Stanford. Bands we want to see live. My favorite book recommendations. The best secret spots in New York that tourists don’t know about.

  You name it, and it’s been discussed.

  And the more we talk, the more time we spend together, the more I understand why I’ve always carried a torch for him.

  Milo is the one guy who makes me realize why I’ve never dated or been in a long-term relationship, why no guy has ever held my interest for longer than a few weeks.

  It’s like I’ve been waiting for him or something.

  Which feels downright insane and a bit terrifying, if I’m being honest.

  What if this is only one-sided?

  What if Lena is wrong about him?

  What if I’m the only one who’s starting to fall deeper into like?

  Fuck. My brain feels like it might short-circuit if I keep circling around these racing thoughts.

  For once in your life, just stop overthinking shit and live in the present.

  Yes, that is exactly what I need to do. Live in the present. And right now, the present is enjoying the company of this intelligent, sexy, downright wonderful man.

  “Do you think that photographer managed to dupe some girl into doing his pretend photo shoot?” I ask, and Milo smirks at me.

  “So, you did know he was full of shit?”

  “Of course I did.” I snort. “When it comes to men and dating and relationships, I may be inexperienced in a lot of aspects, but I can smell a bullshitter from a mile away.”

  “I don’t think you’re as inexperienced as you think you are,” he comments, and I tilt my head to the side.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You can hold your own, kid,” he answers, and there is this genuine honesty highlighting his voice. “Behind that pretty, innocent face of yours resides a woman who seems to know what she wants. Truthfully, it’s jarring. But in a good way.”

  “Jarring?” I question. “How is that jarring?”

  “Because you may look like some delicate little flower, but you’re not. You’re feisty and sassy as hell when you want to be.”

  “I am not that sassy.” I try to disagree, but Milo flashes a knowing look my way.

  “Oh yes, you are,” he retorts with a little smirk. “But you’ve been like that since I’ve known you. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite things about you.”

  His words stun me into silence.

  One of his favorite things?

  So, he has more than one favorite thing? About me?

  My heart threatens to find a way out of my chest.

  Thankfully, Milo pulls up in front of my apartment building and double parks, and I grab my stuff to make a swift exit.

  With his hand at the small of my back, guiding me toward my building, my head starts to feel lighter than my body, and I search for words of any kind—anything that will serve as a distraction.

  “Is avoiding getting towed one of Billionaireman’s superpowers too? A cloaking device perhaps?”

  “Sure. It’s called having enough money that you don’t have to care.”

  “Ah,” I sigh with a little laugh. “Must be the same thing that allows you to drive in New York City in the first place. Normal people don’t pay to have cars here. Except Bruce,” I amend. “But I’m pretty sure he sacrificed my wedding fund to pay for it.”

  “I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says, changing the subject entirely, when we come to a stop just outside the entrance door. A smirk crinkles the left corner of his mouth. “Thanks for being such a pain in my ass and making me come to that party.”

  “You’re welcome, old man.” I giggle.

  “Old man?” he questions in feigned outrage. “Really?”

  I shrug, and a little smile touches my lips. A sarcastic retort sits at the tip of my tongue, but my phone chimes inside my purse. And then does it again. And again. And again.

  “What the hell?” I mutter and pull it out to find my inbox finally decided to update from this morning. “I swear to God, sometimes Gmail gets a thrill out of commandeering my emails for like twelve hours.”

  Milo just laughs, and I quickly scroll through the delayed emails to make sure I didn’t miss anything important.

  But my hand freezes and my eyes go wide when I spot the subject line of one particular email.

  “What?” he asks, but I’m too dumbfounded to utter a word.

  Instead, I tap one shaking finger to the screen and read the message.

  To: MaybeWillis@gmail.com

  From: Taylor.McHough@BeaconHouse.com

  Subject: Interview Request

  Good morning, Ms. Willis,

  After reviewing your resume and seeing your lengthy list of credentials, we would like to schedule an in-person interview with you next week.

  Does Friday, June 28th at 12:00 p.m. work for you?

  I look forward to hearing from you.

  Friendly regards,

  Taylor McHough

  Editor in Chief, Beacon House

  “Oh my God,” I whisper and look up to meet his curious eyes. “Oh. My. God.”

  “What?” Milo asks again. “What’s going on?”

  “Beacon House wants to interview me!” I practically shout into the otherwise quiet night air. “They want me to come in Friday for a freaking interview!”

  Milo’s smile beams. “I knew you could do it, kid.”

  The excitement and joy become overwhelming, and before I know it, I’m catapulting myself into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist like a little monkey.

  “Milo!” I exclaim. “Beacon House wants to interview me!”

  He grins and looks down at me. “I heard.”

  “Friday, Milo! I have an interview this Friday!”

  A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Proud of you, kid.”

  “Holy macaroni salad at a barbecue! I can’t believe it! God, Milo! Thank you so much for making this happen! I couldn’t have done any of this without you!”
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  Those big blue eyes of his glisten and shine, and I can’t stop myself from getting lost in them. From getting lost in him. Interview and excitement long forgotten, all I seem to be able to see is him.

  And I’m still in his arms, his strong hands keeping me there by gripping my hips.

  And then we’re both quiet and just…looking at each other. Searching the other’s eyes. My gaze flitters between his eyes and his lips, and I’m just so tempted.

  So tempted to lean forward and find out if his lips are as soft as they look.

  “Milo,” I whisper his name, but he doesn’t respond.

  Instead, he fixates his gaze on my mouth.

  He. Is. Staring. At. My. Lips.

  Lena’s advice plays inside my head, and I know I’d be an idiot if I let this moment pass me by.

  So, I don’t.

  One inch, two inches, I move my mouth toward his until our lips are just barely brushing.

  And right before I find the courage to finish the job, to actually kiss him, Milo takes me by surprise and presses his mouth to mine, stealing my fucking breath.

  God, his lips are so soft. So full. So perfect.

  A quiet moan escapes my throat when he slips his tongue inside my mouth to dance with mine.

  Gently, slowly at first, until a barely there growl leaves his mouth and enters mine.

  Our kiss turns fast and deep. My hands are in his hair, gripping the thick locks in fervor, and his strong hands caress my ass.

  And we just keep kissing.

  Lord Almighty, he tastes so good. Like mint and honey and heaven and Milo.

  I dreamed about kissing him at least a thousand times, but not once did I ever anticipate it would be this good. Feel this good.

  I never want it to end.

  But at the same time, I know it needs to end.

  And for some strange reason, I know that I need to be the one to end it.

  When our kiss starts to slow, I ease myself from his perfect, lush mouth. But before I remove myself from his arms completely, I place one final, lingering kiss to his lips.

  Silence fills the space between us, and it takes me a good thirty seconds before I can find my voice again.

  “Thank you for bringing me home,” I whisper and look up into the stunning blue of his eyes. “And thank you for coming to the party. I had fun with you.”

  “I had fun with you too.”

  The temptation to catapult myself into his arms and kiss his fucking face off is so strong, but I compose myself, swallowing down the urge, and focus on ending the night on the least awkward note possible.

  “Good night, Milo.”

  He leans forward and presses one final kiss to my forehead. “Good night, kid.”

  And just like that, we part ways.

  I walk into my building.

  And Milo heads to his car.

  But I can’t deny that my heart is so full, it’s damn near bursting.

  I kissed Milo Ives.

  And more than that, he kissed me right back.

  Maybe

  When the sun filters into my bedroom and the clock barely strikes eight, I am up and out of bed with the kind of energy even Red Bull and coffee can’t provide.

  If I didn’t know last night actually happened, I would think it was a damn dream.

  But it did happen. Oh boy, did it happen.

  Not only did I get to spend an entire evening with Milo, I kissed him.

  If it wasn’t the best kiss of my life, I don’t think I’ll be able to survive the kiss that could top it.

  Everything is coming up fucking roses.

  After a quick pit stop in the bathroom to pee, brush my teeth, and wash my face, I head into the kitchen and set a fresh pot of Folgers to brew.

  Mr. Coffee makes me proud, and it’s not long before one of my favorite smells fills my apartment.

  But, seriously. Is there anything better than the smell of fresh coffee in the morning?

  Definitely not.

  I fill my favorite pink mug to the brim, stir in a little sugar and milk, and plop down onto my sofa, fully prepared to fit in an hour of prerecorded Project Runway before I have to get ready for another boring Saturday shift at the shop.

  But I’m barely five minutes into finding out what the next challenge is before my phone pings several times in a row with text message notifications.

  What the…? Did somebody die?

  I snag my phone off the coffee table and find five messages from Lena.

  Lena: GIRL. Tell me everything.

  Lena: Wake the fuck up right now before I die from anticipation.

  Lena: MAYBE, WAKE UP.

  Lena: Seriously, wake up. My nipples are all tingly and when my nipples tingle that means the seventh sun is in the house of fornication.

  Lena: REALLY? No response to the house of fornication? That was clever as hell, and I’m disappointed in you.

  Lena: Helloooooooooooooooooo?

  I grin and type out a response.

  Me: Well, good morning to you, too. And for future reference, I track my behaviors on the SIXTH sun. The seventh was just one too many.

  Lena: There’s no time for your little jokes, friend. I need to know what happened last night.

  My cheeks blush and my lips tingle just thinking about the perfect, almost unbelievable sensation of Milo Ives’s lips on mine.

  Me: Well…it was no house of fornication, but I did kiss him.

  Lena: YES. YES. YES. I knew it! How was it?

  Me: If I were less in control of my emotions, I’d probably cry every time I think about it.

  Lena: Holy hell! You may be in control of your emotions, but I am NOT. I feel like a proud momma. I literally might start sobbing.

  I laugh.

  Me: No need to cry, Yoda. It was just…a really great kiss. No big deal.

  Lena: NO BIG DEAL? C’mon, Mayb. You and I both know that wasn’t JUST anything. We’re talking you and MILO. That was a freaking milestone. It was something you’ve been waiting to happen for like a decade now.

  More than a decade, actually. But no need to get lost into the logistics.

  Me: I know. Honestly, I’m still having a hard time believing it happened.

  Lena: It happened, girl. It mother-flipping-fucking-sucking happened. So…after the kiss, how did it end?

  I’m still shocked I had the willpower to be the one to end it. It was like I somehow channeled the Hulk and forced myself not to turn into a bumbling, rambling weirdo.

  Me: Well…I just kind of ended the kiss and told him good night.

  Lena: You did what????

  I grimace and bite my lip.

  Me: Was that wrong?

  Lena: Was that wrong??? Hell no. That was genius, my friend. Fucking genius. And it’s official. I am a proud momma, and I’m going to cry.

  Me: LOL. Slow your roll, momma. I need your sage advice on what I’m supposed to do next.

  Lena: What do you want to do next?

  What do I want to do next? I honestly have no fucking clue.

  Me: I’m not really sure yet, but that reminds me of something I overheard when I was at Starbucks the other morning.

  Lena: Excuse me? Did you just say Starbucks?

  I grin.

  Me: Chill out. It wasn’t for me. It was a coffee run for my dad.

  Lena: I’ll let it slide. This time. But if I ever hear and/or see you type that name again, I reserve the right to smack you.

  Me: HA. Noted.

  Lena: So…don’t leave me hanging here. What did you hear at that shitty, overpriced, terrible coffee establishment?

  Me: These two girls were chatting about DP. They said it was the most intensely awesome sexual experience they’ve ever had. I think I want to try it…

  Lena: Give me a second…currently trying to revive myself. This bout of laughter was officially too much.

  Me: What? Why is this funny?

  Lena: Do you know what DP is?

  Me: No, not really.

&nbs
p; But the way those chicks were quietly going on and on about it over Frappuccinos, I’m assuming whatever it is, it’s really good.

  Lena: Now I know what your next step with Milo is.

  Me: ?

  Lena: Text him and tell him exactly what you just told me.

  Me: About DP?

  Lena: Uh-huh.

  Me: What in the hell do I say? “Oh hey, I want to try DP”?

  Lena: Oh yes, honey. That’s pretty much perfect.

  I take a sip of my coffee and shrug to myself.

  It’s not like Lena’s advice has ever steered me in the wrong direction.

  Milo

  Although I planned to take Saturday off from work, when Emily—one of Fuse’s top finance gurus—called me about a discrepancy that needed to be worked out, I found myself getting out of bed about three hours earlier than I planned and heading into the office.

  Being in the back seat with nothing to do while Sam drove proved to be a test of my sanity.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Maybe, that stupid party, and that really and truly stupid kiss.

  Goddamn, I shouldn’t have done that. I should have backed away instead of leaning in, held my ground in the name of self-preservation.

  But I’m finding I’m powerless against her. Her sassy words and contagious giggle. Those big brown eyes and gorgeous smile. And the way those cheeks of hers blush when she’s feeling embarrassed…

  Fuck… She is apparently my kryptonite.