Page 90 of The Billionaire Experience

“Brody Crane.”

“I can’t wait to meet him!” she exclaimed, gripping her clutch in both hands. A stunner of a diamond ring twinkled on her left hand. “When Merina told me there were more Cranes than the Chicago trio, I called her a liar. She swore she was telling the truth, so here I am. Merina, Reese, and I go way back.”

“Take a breath, gorgeous,” the man next to her drawled. His smile was patient.

“Sorry. I’m Penelope Ferguson. This is my husband, Zach.”

“Reagan.”

“Hi, Reagan.” Zach’s smile popped one of his dimples.

“So, you’re here with Brody…” Penelope started.

“Pen,” her husband interrupted. “Let the poor girl get to where she was going.”

“You’re no fun.” Pen swatted him with her clutch, then winked at Reagan. “I’ll see you in there.”

Once Penelope and Zach stepped into the ballroom, Reagan scuttled to the restroom for a moment of peace. She was incredibly grateful that the stall door went all the way to the floor and that there was a sink and mirror inside. In the whitewashed stall, she faced her reflection and took a few slow, steady breaths. What the hell was wrong with her? What was underlying the sudden lack of confidence? Was it merely discomfort? Lack of sleep? Worry about Ike?

Then Zach’s words echoed in her mind.

“Poor girl,” she said aloud. There hadn’t been any cruelty or pity in his tone. It was likely a commonplace phrase he’d grown up hearing. But it was a summation of how she’d been feeling lately.

Reagan hadn’t grown up with money. Far from it. Her mother had never owned much of anything, let alone expensive dresses or fancy shoes. Ronnie’s social life consisted of bars and casinos, so her closet had been filled with loud, colorful prints. Even so, once Reagan had been adopted by her grandparents, she’d never wanted for anything. Her grandparents had limited income, and they hadn’t received any financial help from Ronnie whatsoever. Reagan had understood why money had been tight.

Ike and Betty had taught her that work was its own reward, and money a necessity. Reagan grew up proud of the life she’d made for herself. She took pride in her vocation.

When she’d moved from her grandfather’s house into Dustin’s massive home, she’d noticed the gap between who she was and who she was with him. Which brought her to Brody.

She’d stepped into his world, which had majorly upset her equilibrium. After the shopping excursion for two very expensive dresses, she’d quietly wondered if he’d found her lacking. It was like he’d been dressing her up and showing her off for his benefit. Or maybe for everyone else’s…

“That’s ridiculous.” She vigorously scrubbed her hands with soap and water as if that would wash away her invasive thoughts. “He’s not trying to turn me into Alexis.”

“You can say that again,” she heard from the other side of the stall door.

Jaylyn.

Reagan dried her hands and then unlocked and opened the door. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“He doesn’t even like Alexis,” Jaylyn said. “He’s definitely not trying to turn you into her. He’s just not accustomed to dating…”

“Someone without a trust fund?” Reagan filled in for her.

“A nice girl,” Jaylyn finished. “We like to give him shit about how many crash-and-burn girlfriends he’s had, but honestly there haven’t been that many. I date as much as, if not more, than he does.”

“I don’t feel like myself tonight.” She pointed at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. “She resembles Reagan Palmer, if there were a Barbie version.”

“You are still you, no matter how many diamonds are sewn into that gown. What’s going on?” Jaylyn asked.

“I’ll have to swear you to secrecy.”

Jaylyn mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

“Brody is an easy guy to fall for. I want to make sure I’m not falling for the…” She held her skirt and did a half-turn. “This.”

“Aww, hon.” Jaylyn wrapped her arm around Reagan’s waist and faced the mirror. “You don’t strike me as a girl who falls in love with a man for what he can give her.”

“I’m not,” Reagan admitted.

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