Billionaires Dollar Series

Maddie releases a sigh as we step out of the hotel. “God, that was so embarrassing.”

“I can guarantee you he’s seen worse.”

“There’s that, I suppose.” She shakes her head at the thought, looking up at me. “Have you told your brother about us, by the way? Like Mr. Porter mentioned?”

The question is like a bucket of ice water over my head. I can see his face in my mind, the scowl he used to wear whenever he scolded me. Everyone in Seattle can’t stop associating me with him. Are you Ethan Carter’s little brother, the Ethan Carter?This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

My irritation isn’t fair, but that’s the thing with anger. It’s not rational.

“Hopefully he won’t have to be told at all,” I say, searching for my phone in my pocket. “Albert will sign the deal, all will be done, and then…”

“And then what? Will we have a polite and amicable split?”

I glance from my phone-forty-five unread emails have already cluttered up my inbox. “Yes, that’s what we’ll do. Polite and amicable.”

She nods. The ends of her hair, still wet, have left a wet spot on her red dress. My eyes linger on it longer than I should, and she frowns when she catches me looking. “I figured I didn’t have time to blow-dry it.”

“Good thinking.” I slide my phone back into my pocket. “I’ll order a cab for us each. Are you headed home?”

“I am, yeah.”

I slide an arm around her waist and press my lips to her forehead. Not all sex is equal, and hotel sex is the pinnacle, but that… that had been amazing. “Thanks for last night,” I say. “It was more than interesting, Maddie, and you are more than interesting.”

There’s a teasing smile in her voice. “I’m not sure I quite believe you.”

“Oh?” I ask. “Do you need another demonstration?”

Grinning, she slips out from my arm and backs away toward a waiting cab. “Yes. Two nights from now, perhaps?”

“Oh, sweetheart! You’re going to do so well!” My mom’s voice is cheerful on the phone, if a bit echoey. My parents are big fans of using the speakerphone function.

“Do you want us to come up and taste the food?” Dad asks. “The dishes you’re planning on serving the judges?”

I chuckle. “Dad, you say everything I cook tastes good.”

“Because it does!”

“Sure, but everything, Dad?”

“I haven’t lied. Not once.”

“You also haven’t been very constructive,” I say, but I’m grinning as I tuck my phone under my ear. “I was thinking about coming home the weekend after. Would that work?”

“Of course it works. You’re always welcome.”

“And we’re always here,” Dad interjects.

“Awesome.” Clearing my throat, I don’t give myself time to consider my next words. “Guess what? I bumped into Liam Carter the other day.”

“Liam? From next door? That’s lovely! How was he?”

“His brother has been doing so well,” Dad adds.

“Oh yes. We read about Ethan in the newspaper just the other day. How is he?”

“I spoke to Liam, Mom, not Ethan.”

“Of course, of course.”

“He’s back in Seattle for work. He works as an investor, actually.”

“Like a banker?”

“Yeah.” I pop the phone to my other ear and start to wipe down the kitchen counter. I’d just tried-and failed-to perfect one of my recipes. For some reason, I just couldn’t get the tartness in the sauce right. “He’s working for his brother now.”

“Imagine that,” Mom says. “And was he good-looking?”

My laughter is tinged with just a hint of hysteria. “Yeah, he’s grown into his looks.”

“Fine boy,” my dad comments. “You said he’s working for Ethan?”

“Sure is.” I sit back on one of the kitchen chairs. My dad grumbles something on the phone that sounds like let me find something.

My parents have never been shy about being proud of Ethan. Without a father of their own, and with Liam being my best friend, both boys were often in our house as I grew up. How could they not be? We shared a hedge.

“Porter, Park and Carter? Is that the name of the investment firm?”

“I think so.”

“Your dad has just googled on his iPad,” Mom informs me. “He’s gotten very good at it.”

I smile, despite myself. It had been his Christmas gift. “Are you getting tech-savvy in your old age, Dad?”

He harrumphs. “They’ve been mentioned in a newspaper. Several times, actually. And the Wall Street Journal… Wow, Judy, take a look at this.”

I frown. “What did you find, Dad?”

“The company’s investments are in the billions. And you said Liam worked there?”

I clear my suddenly dry throat. “He’s the lead investor, yeah. I kinda think he’s the one running the show, and the others are members of the board.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end of the line. “Would you look at that,” my father says, the pride clear in his voice. “Two of them in the same family.”

I’m struck by something quite similar, right beneath my breastbone. “Must be genetic.”

After we’ve hung up, the number stays seared into my brain, prompting me to do a bit of digging online.

The sums are staggering. Even more staggering is the idea that Liam is in charge of all of this-that his decisions can influence whether they lose or make millions upon millions of dollars.