Page 90 of Coffee Break with the Billionaire

I have no idea what my best is, but even if I did, I know it wouldn’t compare to what Fenella’s friends will be wearing.

I lock the door behind Leodie and Jem and head into the back to check through the resumes on file to see if there’s someone I can contact for an interview.

I got Fenella a present—an annotated book on the night sky and a small telescope that looks like an old-fashioned spyglass.

I ordered it the night after I showed her Neptune.

The floor of my apartment vibrates from the music downstairs as I shower and trim my beard, make myself something to eat, and then find something suitable to wear.

It’s harder than I expected, and I change three times. The ironic part of it is that I’m trying to impress Fenella but if I called her, she would be able to tell me exactly what I should wear.

I finally decide on black pants that may not be the latest style, but they look okay, and a black button-up shirt that Ediegave me a few years ago for a gift exchange and that I’ve never worn. It has silver threads woven in.

It takes me two shots of whiskey to get me moving.

I’ve never been nervous in social settings, but my feet feel like they’re stuck in mud, unable to move down the stairs. I hate feeling like this—like I’ll be walking straight into the worst that can happen and I won’t be able to stop it.

I wanted to be there right at eight, but it’s not until a quarter after that I head down the stairs to enter through the kitchen.

The place is packed already with bodies dancing to loud music. I catch sight of Wyatt as he winds his way through the crowd with an empty tray. “Hey,” he shouts over the music. “What do you think?”

I don’t know what to think.

I expected a crowd, not Mrs. Geordie, Nancy Tanker and Laura Schmidt in the middle of the dance floor with Milo and Duncan Laz, shaking it with everything they’ve got. Or Coy Schmidt leaning against the bar having a serious heart-to-heart with Ashton Carrington. Or Prince Kalle and Mase Stirling chatting in the corner with Wyatt’s coach—I recognized the billionaire baseball player when he came in earlier—while Edie and Mase’s wife fangirl over what Lavinia is wearing.

Which isn’t much—a dress that is more like a roll of bandages wrapped around her body in Big Bird yellow, with shoes to match.

There are so many I recognize from town, people that I had no idea Fenellaknew.

I hover by the kitchen door and take it all in. Sophie catches my eye and hurries over as fast as she can wearing four-inch heels and a tight black dress, her reddish-brown hair pulled up into a messy bun and with more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear.

“Silas,” she cries, a pink cocktail in her hand. “What do you think?”

“You look amazing,” I manage.

“No, your club.” She laughs. “But thanks.”

It was supposed to be pink. I expected pink, pink everything, and while the furniture and most of the drinks are of a pink hue, the walls are… not.

“She wanted to surprise you,” Sophie says, leaning in so I can hear her. “She was so excited about the idea.”

The ceiling is dark blue, almost indigo, and the colour works its way down the walls fading into a lighter blue, violet, lavender, and pink a few feet from the floor.

It’s the night sky, soon after sunset, just like the sky by the lighthouse. The ceiling and top of the walls are full of stars—silver pinpricks and sparkly shapes dangling on wires.

“Do you like it?”

So engrossed in the sight of the place, I don’t even see Fenella come up to me. But once I see her, I don’t know how I could have missed her.

She’s wearing silver, a strapless matte tube of fabric that starts at her chest and hits mid-thigh. It’s not tight but manages to accentuate every curve on her body.

My mouth dries up at the sight of her.

“It’s…” I pull my gaze from her and slowly turn in a circle. “What happened to pink?”

“I wanted this. For you.”

“It’s supposed to be for your birthday.”

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