Page 3 of Contract of a Billionaire

“I’m sorry your brother couldn’t make it today,” I murmured. I knew how much she hoped he’d be here. He was the only family she loved. The only family that was there for her.

“It’s okay.” A hint of bitterness colored her voice.

I reached for her hand and squeezed it gently in comfort. “It’s not okay,” I murmured. “But I’m happy I got to spend all day with you.”

From all she had told me, her brother always came through. It could be that he was just late. In four years, I had yet to meet the famous, or infamous, brother.

Alessandro Russo. Alessio to those closest to him.

Untouchable. Ruthless. Corrupt.

Connected to the mafia. Not that I’d seen it firsthand. Those were just the rumors. In reality, it could be that the guy was just a ruthless businessman. If there was one thing I’d learned from my parents, things weren’t always what they seemed.

“Send him another message,” I suggested softly.

She shook her head.

“Father reads my messages. Sometimes I think he reads his, too.” Huh? There were so many things I didn’t understand about Branka’s family. “I don’t want him to give me a hard time.” Another difference between her parents and mine. Her father was mean, cruel even. And her mother, well she seemed to be only a ghost of who she once was.

“You can use my phone if you want,” I offered. I knew how much it meant to her to see him today.

“That’s okay, thanks. I called Alessio earlier and left him a voicemail that I’d be here.”

I nodded. The two of us stood in front of the mirror. She had changed for the occasion and looked gorgeous in her sheer, golden dress that was long in the back but shorter in the front. The contrast of gold against her dark, auburn hair was striking. I still wore my white, skater dress.

“I just can’t wait to get out of here,” she remarked, meeting my gaze in the mirror. Her gray eyes turned dark, like storm clouds, every time she was sad. “Our last night in Montréal. Let’s make it a memorable night.”

I nodded although I wasn’t as thrilled about leaving my parents behind. I was excited about going to California and attending university there. But unlike her, I also couldn’t wait to come back to visit my parents. And we hadn’t even left yet.

Branka’s eyes traveled over me. “Are you going to change?”

I lowered my eyes. “What?” I swept my hand over my skater dress. “This isn’t good enough?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s fine for an everyday event, but not for our birthday. Today’s special.”

“Fine, fine,” I retorted dryly. “I’ll change.”

Turning eighteen seemed to be a big deal. Yet the same face I’d known yesterday stared back at me today in the mirror. Same raven black hair. Same hazel eyes. My mouth was still the same, that top lip slightly bigger than my bottom one.

“Do you feel older?” I asked.

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “Not really. But we’re eighteen now. Legal adults.”

My lips curved into a smile. I wasn’t quite sure if I felt like an adult. Or that I was even ready to be an adult. I was certainly in no rush.

“I guess I better hurry up and change before all the food is gone,” I said, eyeing the dress that Branka picked out. It was a beautiful dress, but it was way over the top for a simple birthday party in the backyard. So was Branka’s, although that didn’t seem to stop her.

She clapped her hands. “Wonderful, I’ll wait for you downstairs. I need to have some of your mother’s crème brûlée before it’s all gone.”

She was out the door before I could even protest. It would have been wonderful if she’d given me a boost of confidence once I tried the fancy dress on. I didn’t want to look like an overdressed peacock.

“Save me some,” I yelled after her. “Hide it from everyone.”

Her laugh rang down the steps, right along with her thumping heels against my parents’ hardwood floors.

My eyes roamed over the room where Branka and I spent so much time together over the last four years. It wasn’t grand or super luxurious, but I loved my room nonetheless. Pink and white bedding over the mahogany canopy bed. The antique white dresser and the vanity were the only other furniture in my bedroom.

Frames with my parents’ pictures stood on the dresser. Our trips all over the world. It was where I got my taste for adventure and the will for justice.