Page 6 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

“That’s not true. He would have sent Liam if he wasn’t busy running the European division. I swear he sends me to thesethings just to torment me.” I cringe, knowing there’s more truth to that than I care to admit.

Dad walked out on us at the end of my and Theo’s senior year.

It nearly destroyed my mom when, only a month after they finalized their divorce, he announced he married a European socialite with ties to the royal family. August and Liam, her two sons, were both in their early twenties. They went to work for my dad and have been with Townstead International since.

I had no interest in meeting them at first, but after college, I reluctantly agreed to join the company and had to work with them since I requested to be assigned to the London office. August and I bonded over our dislike of my dad and became fast friends. Liam is laser-focused on the business, so we don’t spend time together outside of work, but we have a great rapport.

Despite my best efforts, Theo refuses to have anything to do with our dad and won’t meet August and Liam, even though he lives in London. As far as he’s concerned, they’re strangers and should stay that way.

“You should be out partying and getting laid, not spending your last night in Sin City in a stuffy hotel bar, surrounded by balding middle-aged men looking to make the most out of their trip before going back to their wives and kids in the suburbs,” August says.

We may be step-siblings by definition, but he is my closest friend, which means we talk about almost everything.

I glance around the room, surveying the other patrons. Most of them fit his description to a tee—older men with receding hairlines and ill-fitted suits.

“I’m going to have to pass on the partying and getting laid.” I take a long sip of my martini. “As soon as I finish my drink, I’m ordering room service and taking a nice, long bath.” Given the choice, I much prefer a night of solitude over being in a crowded room with people I have no interest in associating with.

August lets out an exasperated sigh. “Everly, it’s been two years since you broke things off with Landon. Isn’t it time you started dating again?”

I bristle at his comment. “I have moved on,” I state firmly.

I swore off dating the day I caught Landon, my ex-fiancé, cheating on me with his assistant. It had been a typical Tuesday afternoon until I walked in on them doing it doggy style in Landon’s apartment.

Men are far more trouble than they’re worth. My collection of handy rabbit vibrators gets me off more times in a week than Landon did in the whole of our five-year relationship.

I’ve learned the hard way that getting emotionally attached to someone only leads to heartache, and I don’t plan to put myself through that again.

“You’re in Las Vegas,” August declares with gusto. “One night of making bad decisions, like getting drunk and having filthy, hot sex with a stranger, can’t hurt.” I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Haven’t you heard the saying, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? This is the perfect opportunity to let loose and have a good time. Then you can return to London and be your boring old self again,” he jokes.

“Gee, thanks for the self-esteem boost,” I mumble as I take another sip of my drink.

He’s not wrong, but his words still sting.

Apparently, the handful of times I’ve joined him for a night out or met Theo for dinner doesn’t count as a social life. I can see why he finds it unhealthy that, aside from my demanding work schedule, I prefer to spend my limited free time alone.

“Everly, I care about you and want you to be happy. You deserve to settle down someday and find someone who worships the ground you walk on.”

I used to want that, too, but things have changed.

“I don’t have any interest in…” My voice trails off when movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I glance up just in time to watch a newcomer enter the bar area. From my vantage point, I can only see his profile, but there’s something strangely familiar about him.

The stranger has dark-blonde shaggy hair that falls to his chin and stubble covering his chiseled jawline. While everyone else in the hotel bar is dressed in business attire, he’s wearing dark-wash jeans, a white long-sleeve dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, and leather loafers. Even without seeing his face, I can sense he’s trouble.

He’s captured the attention of every woman in the room, their gazes locked on him as if he’s the ultimate prize. As for me, I have no interest in him whatsoever.

Then why can’t I stop staring?

“Everly, are you still there?” August’s voice breaks through my trance.

It’s a good thing we’re not video chatting, or he might notice the blush spreading across my cheeks when I realize I’ve been checking out a stranger. I’m usually indifferent to men, and this one shouldn’t be any different.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I reply, keeping my gaze fixed on my drink.

“When are you coming home?” August asks.

“My flight leaves for London in the morning.”

“You could always spend the weekend in Vegas,” he persists, like a dog with a bone.

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