Billionaires Dollar Series

“If you’re available, yes.”

“Let me check my schedule for the week.” I sort through my phone, seeing that I have a missed call from my mother. She’d be over the moon if she heard Liam and I’d reconnected.

“I have an evening shift on Wednesday, but I can exchange it with another cook.”

“Thank you, truly. Hopefully this’ll be the last time we need to pretend.”

The last time, yes. And then we’d go our separate ways again?Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Is there a dress code for this event?” My hand goes to the hem of my shirt by its own accord. A quick mental survey of my wardrobe options… and no, I don’t have anything I’ll feel comfortable standing next to Liam in a suit in, not at a party at a Porter hotel.

“I’ll send you the details,” he says.

I pull my legs up underneath myself and look at his profile, at the strong chin and straight nose. He looks deep in thought.

“What are you thinking?”

His mouth softens. “I’m thinking,” he says, “that there isn’t a woman in America who’d put up with what you have these past few weeks, with an initial bargain that changes every day.”

My teeth dig into my bottom lip. “Oh. Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he confirms, voice dropping. “And I’m wondering why the hell we ever lost touch after I moved away from Fairfield.”

I’m putting salve on a burn on my hand when Alma pops her head into the changing room. Her chef’s jacket is pristine, as opposed to mine, one of us starting her shift and the other finishing hers.

We’re like ships in the night tonight.

“Guess what?” she asks.

“What?” I look into the mirror beside her and try to smooth my hair down into something that resembles order. Behave, dammit.

“I actually have two things.” She closes the door to the changing room, shooting me a conspiratorial grin. “Number one-I overheard Jason say to Enrique that he’s cooking ossobuco for the entrance test to the fellowship.”

My lips quirk. “It’s one of his signature dishes.”

“Yes, but that’s some insider info for you. Now you have to cook ossobuco too but make it better.”

I grin. “Oh, I know better than to go head-to-head with him on that. What’s the second thing?”

A smile lights up her face. “There might be a certain someone seated in the dining room right now, a bouquet of roses in front of him, waiting for you.”

“Oh yes, and he’s wearing a suit and he looks delicious. Are you sure the two of you are still in a fake relationship?”

“I’m sure,” I say, undoing the buttons of my chef’s jacket at the speed of light. Why oh why don’t we have a shower here at Marco’s?

“If you’re so sure, then why is he here with flowers?”

I tug the jacket off and return to my mirror perusal. “You don’t have mascara with you, do you?”

“Here.” Alma hands me a slim black wand. “And you’re just friends, are you, if you’re putting on makeup for him?”

“It’s for me,” I say, elongating my lashes. “I can’t walk next to a man like that while looking like carrion.”

Alma laughs, a delighted sound. “Don’t you want to be more than friends?”

“I think I’m still on a hiatus from men.” I hand her the mascara. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

“And you’re the luckiest,” she says. “Jason is arriving any minute to start his shift-hurry out there so he can see you and your hot-as-sin friend.”

I give her a wide grin before slipping out of the changing room and heading through the kitchen. Marco is in his office, his broad back to me, and I hesitate for a second with my hand on the door to the dining area.

I haven’t told him about the fellowship shortlisting yet. He knows about Jason, but I… well. The more people I tell, the bigger the disappointment might be if I don’t get it.

Should I let him know?

But then his phone rings and the moment slips away.

Liam is waiting in the restaurant, wearing a gray suit, no tie, and the familiar five-o’clock shadow. He doesn’t see me when I arrive, frowning down at his phone. A bouquet of red roses lies on the table in front of him.

I ignore the curious looks from the wait staff and kick his shoe. “You’re in my place of work.”

Liam looks up, and the smile that spreads across his face is entirely indecent. I know it’s part of the act, but my body doesn’t, and it’s suddenly remembering the heat of his as he slept next to me.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he says. “These are for you.”

I accept the heft of the roses, each of them long-stemmed, the petals curved and dusky. “You got me flowers?”

Liam’s smile turns teasing as he stands. “A flower for my flower.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re too sweet, sugar muffin.”

“Sugar muffin?” His long fingers rest under my chin and he tips my head back, lowering his face to mine. He kisses me with a soft normalcy, like this is how he always greets me. Warm lips move against mine, making it hard to think.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” I breathe back.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I nod, because words still seem too fraught to attempt. He grabs my hand and I’m pulled toward the exit, through the familiar setting of the restaurant I’ve worked at for months. I don’t see any of it.

We pass Jason by the front door. His mouth is set in an ugly flat line as he watches us pass.

Liam nods at him, but I don’t, because I’m still struck by the casual way Liam’s touching me. The casual way he kissed me.

“What’s all this?” I ask when we’re safe and sound on the sidewalk.

He releases my hand, grinning. “I raised the stakes, asking you to come with me to yet another event. Figured I needed to pay you back.”