Page 4 of The Nanny's Bossy Billionaire

“The one that canceled twice?”

“Yes. Well, she was sweet and we got talking. Turns out she knows someone who knows the owner and she said to let her know when I wanted to go, and she would arrange it.”

We sat on the plush cushioned barstools and the bartender took our drink orders, scanning the barcode on Stella’s phone.

I take another look around, enjoying the music as I feel the tension leaching out from my shoulders. Now if all nightclubs looked and felt like this, I wouldn’t have any issues going more often. Although it would take being able to afford this kind of luxury.

Perhaps start by not drowning in three hundred thousand dollars of debt for instance.

Our shots arrive just as I push the unwelcome thought out of my mind.

“Here’s to career successes, nights out, and living the best years of our lives in the best city there is,” Stella says. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I raise my glass to hers and down it, savoring the rich and tangy aftertaste.

“What’s this?” I ask, licking salt off the rim of my glass.

“Not sure, ‘something Starter’,” she replies. “It’s supposed to be a house special. Nice, isn’t it?” I nod. She motions to the bartender for another round. My usual limit is two drinks but by the time Stella pulls me toward the dance floor, we’ve had three rounds and I’m working up a nice buzz.

I feel carefree and more alive than I’ve felt all week. No idiot brother to ruin my life, just great music and my best friend by my side. I lift my arms and let my body sway to the beat.

Stella and I had only been on the dance floor for what seemed like minutes when suddenly the hairs at my nape rise and I get the uncanny feeling that I’m being watched. Which is weird since there must be at least fifty people in the club.

Still dancing, I look around until my gaze falls on a tall man standing by the bar across the room, holding a glass of amber-colored liquid. And staring right at me.

His thick, midnight-dark hair falls in careless waves over one side of his temple as if he’d been running a hand through it. His sculpted jaw is dark with stubble. I can’t see the color of his eyes from where I stand, but they burn in their intensity. He tilts his head backward to take a sip of his drink and I’m treated to the strong column of his throat and his bobbing Adam’s apple.

Lust slams into me. I turn back quickly, but I can’t shake that image from my mind. How can something as simple as a man swallowing be so erotic?

I am even more aware of his eyes all over my back, but I force myself not to look at him. Goosebumps race across my arms.What the hell was in those shots?Stella is still swaying to the music, occasionally looking at her phone, and completely oblivious to the vortex of lust I’m being sucked into.

“Hell, yass!” Stella suddenly grabs my arm. “Natalia is in the VIP lounge. Let’s go. She could get us into Zedd’s booth.”

Leave? Now? Instinctively I turn back to the stranger. If anything, the stare has grown hotter. He looks at me as if he owns me. I’ve never been looked at like that before.

“Um, you go ahead.” I look at Stella. “I’m going to dance for a little while longer.” I glance behind me again because I can’t help it.

“Who are you looking at?” Stella looks over my shoulder and sees him.

“Oh wow! Brooke?”

“What?” I say.

“Nothing.” She smiles. “He’s hot.” She looks back at him again. “And he’s checking you out.”

“He is?” I ask like I don’t know.He’s more than checking me out. He’s setting me ablaze.

“Duh! Of course. Go say hello.” She looks again. “Scratch that, he’s coming. See ya.” She kisses my cheek. “I’ll be up there trying to get into Zedd’s booth if they’ll let me.”

I watch Stella leave and when I look back, the man is striding toward me. I want to run, but I’m rooted to the spot. He’s even more attractive up close.

Tall, well over six feet, I reckon. Broad shoulders under the soft material of his thin black sweater. His hooded eyes are a deep green, framed by long sooty lashes. He’s beautiful.

“Hi,” he says. The music disappears and the rough timbre of his voice is all I hear now. He leans close to my ears. “I’m Xavier.”

“Brooke,” I say, moistening my parched lips. “Brooke Lewis.” Did I just give him my last name as well?Why stop there?I mentally kick myself.Give him your SSN too, why don’t you.I should have listened to Stella and gone out more. Can he tell how nervous I am?

“Do you want to dance, Brooke Lewis?”

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