Page 6 of Billionaire Devil

Noah and I understood that. We wanted the company to thrive as much as he did, because it meant we were no longer indebted to Maddox Enterprises, not only for our jobs but for our entire fucking identities.

For me, as the youngest of four sons, I was always an afterthought. I was never going to have any kind of role that was aboutmeand not just my last name. So as soon as Cash offered another option, I was eager to jump the family ship.

But building a company from the ground up has been fucking hard work. We’ve had every imaginable curveball thrown at us and we’ve caught most of them, but not all. The company floundered a few months ago when we were investigated for an insider trading accusation, which turned out to be Cash’s jealous bitch of an ex trying to get revenge. When that story broke and we could assure our investors that the problem was nothing more than a petty argument that was now over, our company went into overdrive. As painful as the fiasco was at the time, the spike of publicityturned out to be the best thing that could have happened to us.

Business is most definitely booming.

The live band starts up from the corner of the patio, the humid summer air carrying the sound. I grab a glass of champagne from the lined-up flutes being poured by the bartenders and make my way toward the hub of the party, which is revving up.

For most of the year, this place is wasted on Noah. He’s the most chilled person I know, the kind of guy who prefers a low-key bottle of red by the fire to an all-night rager. But this house is showy as fuck and built for parties.

Maybe with the newfound success of the company, Noah will finally start to let loose a little.

He’s surrounded by a group of women who are draping themselves over him for a photo and it makes me laugh. I kind of like this side of him. Since Noah is a romantic and now that Cash and Alexander are both head over heels for the women of their dreams, my brothers like to joke about how I’m the only ladies’ man in the family now. Which isn’t entirely accurate.

But I’m definitely not feeling it tonight.

In fact I haven’t been feeling it for a while.

It’s not that Ican’tget women’s attention—at least ten are ogling me right now. It’s just that some internal switch seems to have flicked recently and I’ve suddenly become incredibly fucking…picky.

The sunset tonight is only making it worse. It’s abeautiful night. It would be nice tofeelsomething other than just a surface-level tendency to go with the flow because you can.

I’ve been called the “smoke show” and the “pretty boy” Maddox brother—irritating, but I often get featured on magazine covers and I have more followers on social media than all three of my brothers combined, possibly because none of them could care less about being seen. I don’t mind it.

I don’t post often. Maybe a few times a month, and my posts usually make headlines. I’ve always been athletic and I’m ripped as fuck from years of hockey training during college and, ever since, a punishing sixty-lap swim every morning followed by weight training. I have blue eyes and dark brown hair. I’m 6’2’’ and built. And I tend to get noticed.

The media talks me up as a person who knows how to have a good time. I guess it’s not a terrible reputation to have.

And then there’s my money. I was born with more than I could ever spend in several lifetimes and I’ve managed to quadruple it since I turned eighteen.

It’s easy for us. We learned how to read investment spreadsheets before we learned how to read comic books. Our father made damn sure his sons knew their way around a portfolio. He considered anyone who couldn’t double their money every three years a dim-witted idiot. It was a crime worthy of being disinherited, so we paid attention.

So I’ve lived my entire life with the knowledge that I can have any woman I want, whenever I want, wherever I want. It’s obviously a win-win.

Which is why I can’t figure out why I’ve been so badly off my game lately.

I’ve wondered if it’s because two of my brothers are sickeningly in love, so much that it’s changed their entire personalities. The two most stoic, uptight people I know are whipped so hard they spend all their time following their new fiancées around like lovestruck puppies, buying them mind-bogglingly expensive jewelry, luxury apartments and month-long trips to the tropics. And these are workaholics on steroids who have never taken a vacation in their lives.

The thing that gets me the most is that they’re so fuckinghappy.

It’s got me thinking.

What would thatfeellike? To fall in love like that? To be so besotted withoneperson that you want to spend not just all your time with them but the rest of your goddamnlife.

It’s hard to imagine.

“Hi, Colton.” A girl I hadn’t noticed sidles up to me, twirling a long strand of bleach-blond hair.

“Hey.”

“We met a few weeks ago. At my friend’s party in Soho. Do you remember me?”

“Sure.” Nope.

“My name’s Mandy.”

“Right. I remember.” Not even close.

---