Page 3 of My Best Friend’s Billionaire Brother (Billionaire Brothers #4)

Josie

I close my laptop with a sigh, leaning back in my chair. A soft purr sounds from below me, and I look down to see my cat, Roberta, rubbing against my legs. She knows it’s the end of the workday just as much as I do. Or rather, she knows it’s dinner time.

I get up, walking across my small apartment to the cabinet above the sink to retrieve a can of wet food, opening it up and placing it on the floor for her. She immediately starts scarfing it down.

I open my fridge to peruse my dinner options. Based on what’s available, it looks like I’ll be rounding up a few vegetables and making a stir fry. I suppose a normal twenty-five-year-old might have more to do on a Friday night in one of the most exciting cities in the country.

But I’ve never been the most social butterfly. That was always Chloe’s job. And she’s settled down quite a bit since dating Turner, so I don’t often get pulled into a late night of bar hopping anymore. More likely, it’s brunch on Saturdays.

And my boyfriend is out of town on a business trip. Owen always seems to be traveling for work. He works remotely, but his company is based in New York, so he hops over there quite often. Leaving me all alone on a Friday night.

So for today, it’s just me and Roberta. And the newest episode of 90-Day Fiancé .

As I’m investigating some old carrots in the back of the fridge, I feel a buzz in my back pocket. I straighten, pulling my phone out and raising my eyebrows.

On my home screen is a text from quite possibly the last person I’d ever expect .

Will.

I stare at it, dumbfounded for a few seconds.

Seeing him for the first time in years at Chloe’s engagement party last weekend was surprising enough.

Obviously, I’d known I was bound to run into him at some point over the next six months.

I guess I just hadn’t mentally prepared myself enough.

To see him standing before me in the flesh, just as hot as ever.

And seemingly just as aloof as ever too.

Although he had asked for my number. I’d just about had a heart attack at that—only to learn that his reasons for it were completely practical. Of course it would make sense that we had each other’s numbers.

And I guess he’s putting those numbers to good use.

I open the text, holding my breath. I scan the first sentence, and my eyes go wide as saucers.

Will: What are you doing tonight ?

But just like when he’d asked for my number at the party, my initial shock subsides when I read the rest of it.

I thought we could get together and plan Chloe and Turner’s Bachelor/ette parties.

I sigh. He’s right. Again. I remember Chloe telling me about her bachelorette ideas a few weeks back. She and Turner both want parties in Vegas, over the same weekend, the first night a big party together with both sides of the wedding party, and the second night split.

It does make sense that Will and I get together to iron out the details.

I rub my temples. God, I wish I’d have had a heads up that Will was the best man. Part of me is shocked that Chloe never told me .

Although I suppose she doesn’t know the full picture. Doesn’t understand why that would be information I’d like to have. While she knows practically everything about me, this is the one thing she isn’t privy to. The one thing I’ve never confided in her about.

Every other relationship, every other crush, I’ve spilled my guts, down to the last gory detail. But Will … well, of course not.

Besides, in a sense, there really isn’t anything to tell. Not in actuality.

Nothing ever happened between Will and I. And that right there is the crux of it all.

I spent years pining over William Summers. Casting sidelong glances his way, hoping he’d notice me. My crush first materialized in middle school. He’d been a freshman in high school at the time, and the most crush-worthy guy around. My best friend’s older brother .

I spent all of high school trying to get his attention, and then when we went off to college, I still tried. We went to different schools, but I’d still see him around and on holidays when I’d spent time with Chloe and their family.

And then there was the night I threw in the towel.

Will and his roommates were throwing a party at their house.

They were seniors, and Chloe and I were sophomores.

We’d attended, and Chloe spent the night flirting with a guy she had a crush on at the time.

I’d seen it as the perfect opportunity to talk to Will.

To maybe get my feelings out in the open and see if he felt the same.

I’d had maybe a bit too much liquid courage, but I knew it was now or never.

I spent the evening hanging around Will, summoning the courage and hoping against hope that he’d feel the same way.

But I’d never spilled my guts. And honestly, it’s good that I didn’t.

Because later, he introduced Chloe and I to his new girlfriend.

They’d just met a few weeks ago. I nodded and smiled like I was the happiest in the world for them.

And I’d gone home and cried myself to sleep. And no one ever knew. Not even Chloe. Especially not Chloe.

I’d assumed all those feelings were long gone. That the na?ve girl with a crush was long behind me, and here I was, a strong, independent woman. But seeing Will last weekend had all but shattered those stupid walls I’d so meticulously built up around me.

And now here I am, staring down at my phone as if someone had just texted me a fucking bomb threat.

It’s not like any of this really even matters. I have Owen. Sure, it’s pretty new—just about four months or so—and it’s yet to be seen whether he turns out to be my forever guy, but still. And it’s not like Will does—or has ever—like me. He made that abundantly clear over the years .

“God,” I mutter to myself, slamming the fridge shut. I definitely won’t be eating tonight. There’s no way.

I craft a text and shoot it back.

Josie: Nothing. We can definitely get together. It’s probably a good idea to start planning now.

I sigh. Whether I like it or not, I’m going to have to face my unrequited crush from childhood. Not exactly on my bingo card for the year, but here we go.

Will suggests a trendy restaurant in the North End where we can grab dinner and drinks and discuss the upcoming Vegas trip.

I hadn’t planned on going out today, meaning my hair is an unwashed mess.

Regardless, I throw it up into what I’m hoping is at least an acceptable messy bun, throw on some makeup, and head out the door.

By the time I get to the restaurant, he already has a table. I fight the surge of butterflies that appear in my stomach upon seeing him. It’s just anxiety over the feelings that used to be there, I assure myself. Nothing more.

I tuck a few flyaway strands of hair behind my ear and make my way to the table.

Will looks up as I approach and offers a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not even a smile, really. More like a grimace of acknowledgement.

“Hey,” I say in greeting, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Glad you could make it,” he says.

I purse my lips. God, this is feeling like a business meeting. Which, I guess it kind of is? Well, not business, per se. But we’re here to plan parties for Chloe and Turner, not catch up as old friends. Were we ever even friends?

“Do you want a drink?” Will’s question pulls me from my racing thoughts.

“Yeah,” I answer. Fuck yes, I’ll need a drink if I plan on making it through tonight. Hell, I’ll need dozens of drinks over the coming months. I scan the menu and order one of their signature cocktails when a server comes by. We also order a few appetizers to share.

Once the server takes our menus and leaves, Will leans forward, his forearms on the table.

I can’t help but notice the way he’s rolled his sleeves up—just below his elbow.

Have his forearms always been that sexy?

Of course they have—all of him has always been sexy.

That’s why you liked him in the first place , I remind myself.

I resist the urge to physically shake my head. God. What is wrong with me?

“So, Vegas,” Will says .

I chuckle. “Vegas,” I repeat, taking my drink after our server drops it off. “That’s gonna be … fun.”

He snorts. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes do light up just a bit.

I raise an eyebrow. “You dreading that weekend just as much as I am?”

He shoots me a look. It’s the most direct eye contact we’ve made since I sat down, and his gaze pierces me to my soul. I swallow and look away.

“Yeah, it’s going to be one hell of a bachelorette party,” I say.

“And bachelor,” Will adds.

I laugh. “Hopefully the wedding will be chill.”

Will widens his eyes, and I immediately know that my wish is in vain. “Yeah, chill isn’t a word I’d use to describe Chloe or anything relating to her.”

I laugh harder. While I love the girl, he’s absolutely right. And as the maid of honor at this event, I know I’ll probably be having the least chill time of all. “Do you at least have a plus one you’re bringing to help get you through it?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “No. You?”

“Yeah, actually. I uh … my boyfriend,” I answer.

“Boyfriend.” He says it like a statement, but he raises his brows in question.

I bristle slightly. “Yeah, I have a boyfriend.” Is that surprising? Irritation claws through me.

He nods slowly, expressionless. “Does this boyfriend mind that you’re out on a Friday night without him?”

I narrow my eyes slightly. “He’s not my dad,” I say with a snort. “And he’s out of town anyway.”

“Where?”

“New York. A work trip. He also has family there.”

“Are they nice?”

“I don’t know, haven’t met them. ”

His expression shifts ever so slightly. “You haven’t met them?” he echoes.

“We’ve only been dating for four months,” I protest, feeling the irritation grow. What is this, an inquisition? Since when did William Summers care about my dating life? Since when did William summers care about me at all? Period?

“New York is an hour flight away.”

I widen my eyes at him. Is he seriously pushing me on this?

“It would also be a nice, romantic getaway weekend. Why aren’t you tagging along on this work trip?” Will goes on.

I’m honestly shocked at the audacity. And it’s all coming back to me.

Now I remember why my crush on Will was fraught with such indecision.

He’s a grumpy asshole, that’s why. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that getting upset is really not worth it.

“The details of my relationship with Owen are none of your business,” I say coolly .

“Owen,” he repeats slowly, slight surprise evident in his face.

Just when I think he’s going to start making fun of my boyfriend’s name, he shuts his mouth, pursing his lips.

“I suppose you’re right.” He stares at me for a long moment.

“But you could do better than a guy who doesn’t invite you to New York to have a romantic weekend and meet his family. ”

I open my mouth to protest, but Will beats me to it.

“So back to Vegas,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Chloe tells me the second weekend in March is what she and Turner both want.”

“I, uh …” I stutter, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. Did he really just insult my relationship and then move on to planning the bachelor weekend like nothing happened? He can’t be serious.

But by the look on his face, waiting for me to respond to his statement, he’s dead serious .

I blow a frustrated sigh out through my nose and take a breath. “Yeah, that’s what she told me too,” I reply curtly.

“I was thinking Ceasar’s Palace would be a good place to stay,” Will goes on.

“Well, I was thinking the Flamingo,” I snap back. In all honesty, I don’t have much of a preference, but I’m mad, and I don’t feel like agreeing with anything Will has to say right now.

Will raises a singular eyebrow. I’m beginning to hate how he does that. “Okay,” he says simply. He starts rattling off ideas for the weekend, and I’m only partially listening, sipping my drink and staring him down from across the table.

Just get through the next few months, Josie , I tell myself. You can do it.