Page 37 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

“Champagne.” She closed hereyes. “A nice, cold glass of bubbly champagne.”

“Lucky for you, I know wherewe can get some,” I said, hopping out of the tub and turning thetaps off so it wouldn’t overflow by the time I got backin.

If she wanted champagne, I’d give herchampagne. If she wanted to go to the moon, I’d figure out a way toget her there.

I hadn’t heeded Scott’s warning. Andnow it was too late.

I was into Charlotte way, way toodeep.

CHAPTER TWELVE

(Charlotte)

While the wedding andreception would be held on the beach, the rehearsal dinner tookplace in the resort’s only non-buffet restaurant, speciallyreserved tonight for rehearsal dinner guests. I arrived as therehearsal ended and tried to insinuate myself into the room with aslittle notice as possible.

“Where were you, Sport?” Dadasked when he spotted me. Which was almost immediately.

“I didn’t want spoilers fortomorrow.” I’d thought hard about that planned response, becauseI’d known I couldn’t say that wedding rehearsals were a specificand boring form of torture that should be banned by theU.N.

Dad chuckled. “Anything exciting happenwhile we were busy?”

I shook my head, because nothingexciting had happened all weekend without Matt, and he’d been tiedup with his best man duties. I checked my phone. “When does thisthing end?”

“Well, it goes untilquestion marks, according to the official itinerary. After dinnerthere’ll be drinking and dancing, but I don’t think anyone will behere until the wee hours, with the wedding tomorrow. So, you canprobably make your escape right after you clean your plate.” Thankgod, Dad had no illusions about my enthusiasm for all the littlerequired activities.

“Did they have the bear atrehearsal?” I asked, shielding my mouth with my hand and loweringmy voice, lest my comment be overheard, and I got sacrificed to thebear for my transgression.

“They did. And it’s— Oh,there it is,” he said, pointing.

Sure enough, Daisy the bear entered,fully untethered or restrained in any way, and lumbered toward aseat at the head table.

It sat in a chair. Like aperson.

“Am I the only one whofinds this weird and dangerous and not charming?” Imuttered.

“No, it’s weird anddangerous,” Dad confirmed. “But still charming, in a way. Or areyou jealous that you’re not the only maneater here?”

He had no idea. And I hoped we couldkeep it that way.

My phone chimed and Matt’sphoto popped up. He’d put his number in my phone at some point,without me knowing.

Sneaky jackass.

I opened the text message. No hello, noformalities. Just:

When I snap my fingerstonight, leave the room and masturbate.

“Something wrong?” Dadasked, glancing over at my phone, which I quickly hid. “No.Nothing. Stupid work stuff.”

“Work stuff?”

I blinked at him. “Fine. Private stuffI don’t want my father to accidentally read.”

“Fair enough.”

Mom headed over to us,champagne flute in hand, and not her first judging by how shewobbled. At my raised eyebrow, she snapped, “It’s the damned sand.I could barely stand up out there. Now I have sea legs.” She fannedherself and took a sip. “Where were you for the rehearsal,Charlotte?”

“She didn’t want spoilers.”Dad repeated my flippant response as though it were the mostobvious and reasonable thing in the world.

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