Page 8 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

“I could use a smoke buddy,”he said. “You are very welcome to hang out in my supercool and muchbetter than your private villa presidential suite.”

“Presidential?” I had tolaugh at that. “Did Woodrow Wilson stay here recently?”

He tilted his head inquestion. And then I felt hopelessly nerdy, but I had to explainmyself. When I had a good bit of trivia, I couldn’t help but passit on. “Hotels began using the term ‘presidential suite’ becauseWoodrow Wilson had specific rules for suites he stayedin.”

“Ah.” Matthew nodded inunderstanding. “Scott said your Trivial Pursuit skills arelegendary.”

“They are.” Probably not mysexiest quality, but there I was, talking about Woodrow Wilson tothe hottest guy I’d ever seen in person.

“There’s bar trivia tomorrownight. Maybe you and Scott can get a team together,” hesuggested.

I laughed at the absurdityof that particular idea. “Maybeyouand Scott can get a team together. I’m notletting him hold me back.”

We reached the doors of the hotel andhe waved away the man who stepped forward to open them for us.Matthew opened the door and held it for me.

“What a gentleman,” I saidas I passed him.

“No, I’m blocking yourappearance from the security camera. For when I murder you.” He puthis arm around my shoulders as we crossed the lobby. “Now, let’s gobreak some resort policies.”

I got a whiff of his cologne. I didn’teven like cologne. But I wanted my hair to smell like it in themorning.

What waswrongwith me? And whatwrong choices were I about to make?

CHAPTER THREE

(Matthew)

Who the fuckisthiswoman?

I could barely remember how to use thekey card when we reached the door to the presidential suite. WhichI now had to rename. It would probably up honeymoon bookings;nobody wanted to think of Woodrow Wilson on the most romantic tripof their lives.

The more immediate issue was that mybest friend’s little sister was brutally hot and incredibly fun,and she was about to be in my hotel room.

The lights came on automatically when Iopened the door, and Charlotte nodded with a grudging smile.“That’s pretty impressive.”

“Wait until you see the restof the place.” I couldn’t keep my eyes off her as she walked in.“Hourglass figure” didn’t come close to describing what was goingon under her tiny shorts and distractingly thin tanktop.

The air-conditioning in the buildingenhanced the look.

And she was Scott’s sister. Regardlessof Scott’s insistence that he was only worried for my fragileemotional state—which wasn’t the glass castle of pain heenvisioned—I had a strong suspicion that he was attempting toprotect Charlotte’s virtue. Which sounded like a full-timejob.

Sure, it was presumptuous to think thatCharlotte would have sex with me. But Scott seemed damn sure it wasa possibility.

And within minutes of meeting her, Iwanted it to be a possibility. I’d never experienced such aninstant, electric attraction to anyone.

She tossed her ponytail and gesturedover her shoulder at the great room. “This looks a lot like ourvilla. But we have private verandas.”

“Private balconies,” Icountered.

“With soakingtubs?”

“Just one.” I pretended toconcede to the luxury of her accommodations and let her be smug fora second before I hit her with, “And a shabby little rooftoppool.”

Her eyes widened.

“You wanna see it?” Ioffered.

“I kind of have to at thispoint.”

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