Page 62 of One Billion Reasons

“Why?” Her eyes are knowing. I can’t hide anything from her.

“I like him, Mal,” I whisper. “And today he told me that he would always protect me. He told me he would kill someone for me if I needed it.”

She gapes, wine glass partway to her mouth. “You’re kidding me. What the hell?”

“I know,” I hiss. “I was shocked, too.”

“But I thought you said he was an asshole? I mean, I know he’s an asshole.”

I’m shaking my head, and Mal stops. “I was wrong, Mal. Or he’s changed. Or maybe I changed. But I think he might be…wonderful.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

“You’re falling for him.” She sounds incredulous. “You, Lane Overton, are falling for your brother’s best friend. The guy you hate. The guy you once told me you didn’t care if you never saw again. Wait. Are you sleeping with him?”

“Not really?”

“Not really?” she bursts out. “What does not really mean?”

“He won’t sleep with me. He has some code of honor. I don’t know. It’s stupid. Probably something to do with my brother.”

“Lord, spare us from men who think they know better than we do.” She rolls her eyes and takes a healthy gulp of wine.

“Exactly what I said.” I tilt my head to check that I’ve applied my mascara evenly.

“You’re up to something. What are you going to do to him?”

“I’m going to seduce him.” I look back at the camera and give her my best evil smile. “I don’t want to be the girl he needs to protect. I want him to meet me as an equal.”

Mal is laughing. “Damn, girl. I love it. Go get ‘em.”

“Enough about me. How was the show?”

“About that. I may have gone home with Damian after.”

“Mallory! You should have texted me. Tell me everything.”

* * *

Miles looks handsome beyond belief tonight. When he knocks on my door to head down to the wine cellar, he’s in a black tux with a crisp white shirt and a bow tie.

“How many tuxes do you own?”

“Four or five. I’m not sure,” he says absently.

“You’re not sure,” I repeat inanely, while he looks over my outfit. I’m wearing a red Valentino dress he bought, and it falls to the floor in a cascade of silk.

“Turn around, please.” His voice is rough, and I spin, feeling a little self-conscious. The dress bares my back all the way to the base of my spine. When I finally meet his eyes again, they’re filled with heat.

“I knew it would look amazing on you.”

We head to the wine cellar, his arm around my back, his scent in my nose. “We’re running out of time,” he murmurs in my ear as he scans the cavernous wine cellar. “We need to convince Catherine tonight. But we’re assigned to different tables. So this one is all you.”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper back.

He nips at the top of my ear and slips a hand around my waist, against my bare skin.

“Behave, Lane.”

“Or what?”

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