Page 88 of The Billionaire Experience

“You’re coming back so soon?”

“I have work to do.”

“I thought Brody was your current employer.”

“I can’t charge him for repairs while squatting in his house.” She sighed, the heaviness of the last handful of months weighing her down. It’d been a journey already and she was still in the middle of it. “I gotta go. Time to slip into a designer ballgown and hope I packed the right underwear.”

“Don’t rush home,” Kelly pled. “You deserve to have fun.”

Reagan wasn’t sure about that—the more fun she had, the less deserving of it she felt. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Kelly said with a sigh. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Reagan left the bathroom and checked her nails. Still chip-free, thank God. The manicurist had advised her not to touch anything for forty minutes, and she’d dutifully obeyed.

She popped open the door to the guest room and peered out into Brody’s incredibly nice penthouse. Through the windows, the sun was setting behind the buildings, casting a warm glow onto his furniture, the floors and walls, him… The scene was breathtaking. Almost as breathtaking as the man who lived here.

Brody, in a white button-down shirt, boxers, and black socks, turned as if he’d felt her staring. “Caught me with my pants down.” He smiled a smile that always made her forget how many zeroes separated them.

So many.

“I came out to change the music.” He pressed a button on the remote, and smooth jazz filtered from the speakers. “Sophisticated, right? This will put us in the mood for a stuffy charity event.” He danced over to her, looking amazing and ridiculous half-dressed. When he scooped her up to dance her into the bedroom, she guessed she looked equally ridiculous wearing lingerie and a short gray cotton robe.

He twirled her in a circle and didn’t smash her toes in the process—impressive. “Help you with the dress?”

“Sure.” She released him and unzipped the garment bag. The floor-length black gown was covered with diamonds—some of them real, Dana had told her. When she’d argued that it was too over the top, Brody had insisted on buying it for her. She’d even offered to rent it and return it, but he’d admonished her with, “You, Reagan, deserve to own a dress like this. At least one.”

Deserve. There was that word again.

The deeper in with Brody she got, the more like Pretty Woman she felt. She’d realized today she’d been falling for him in spite of trying not to, but she had yet to see any signs of him suffering the same plight.

She stepped into the gown with his help. It weighed more than she remembered. “Do you miss New York?”

“I miss the convenience of bagels and lox in the lobby cafe.”

“Seriously,” she tried again, sweeping her hair to one side while he zipped her up. “The opulence. The glamour. We don’t have that in Merriweather Springs.”

“Opulence is in the eye of the beholder.” Her hand in his, he gave her a spin. “You belong draped in diamonds.” He placed a kiss on her neck, holding her close for another dance. “Enjoy every second of tonight. No one is going to be able to take their eyes off you.”

All of her warmed at the compliment. Whenever she was in his arms, she couldn’t help smiling. Enjoying him had never been a hardship. “We can’t have sex right now,” she informed them both.

He feigned innocence, his shocked expression as fake as one of her gumball-machine diamond rings. “I didn’t say anything.”

She glanced at his boxers.

“I’m not in charge of that.”

Her laughter shook off any vestiges of melancholy.

“That’s more like it,” he praised, noticing.

Once she had slipped on the Louboutins, she smoothed her hand over the gown and admired her reflection in the full-length mirror. “It’s such a beautiful dress.”

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he said from behind her.

The mirror version of herself was more sophisticated than she’d ever been. Reagan was merely acting a part.

---