Page 3 of Bossed By Three Billionaire Brothers

“There’s no insanely hot guy.” I’d never been a good liar. “OK, then! I need to get my head straight for the flight. I’ll text you when I’ve got reception again.”

Another laugh. “OK. But if you can’t seal the deal with him, send him my way. You know, give him my Insta or something, as in Instagram.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.”

“Fly safe!”

We said our goodbyes then hung up. I let out a sigh, the intensity of the situation weighing on me. In several hours, I’d be thousands of miles away on a very different part of the planet, spending the summer with three men and being a nanny to a two-year-old little boy. It was a bit scary, but a lesson I’d learned long ago was that the best things in life were often a little terrifying at first.

Laughter sounded from the other side of the bar, and I looked up to see that the source was the stupidly handsome guy and the bartender. He’d said something that had her in stitches, that sly, sexy smile on his face as if he had her right where he wanted her.

The longer I stared at the guy the more familiar he seemed. But how the hell was that possible? There was no way we’d met before. Surely, I’d remember a face like that.

Right in the middle of my gawking, he lifted his drink and flicked his eyes over to mine, the corner of his mouth curling as if he knew he’d caught me admiring him. Being the smooth operator I was, my own eyes went wide in shock for a split second as I clumsily reached for my phone, nearly spilling my drink in the process. Phone in hand, I swiped the screen open and tried my best to make it look like I was in the middle of checking something.

I didn’t dare look up.

Moments passed as I scrolled around on my news app, wondering if Amy was right—maybe I did need some kind of social media presence. I’d hated the idea of it, having my life broadcast out into the open, there for anyone to see. Just the thought felt strange.

Suddenly, a deep voice cut through the low din of the bar.

“Mind if I join you?”

My heart seized up, my eyes going wide once more and my fingers freezing where they were over the phone keyboard.

I brought my gaze up slowly. The man I’d been ogling was standing a few feet away from me, that knowing smirk still on his face. However good-looking he’d appeared from across the bar, up close and personal was on another freaking level. It was like looking up at a statue of a Greek god or something.

“Um, sure!”

He chuckled a bit, as if sensing my awkwardness and finding it more than a little amusing. The man moved into the chair next to me with total smoothness, a stark contrast to how skittish I was being.

He sat back, the picture of total confidence. “Couldn’t help but notice you were about done with that Bloody Mary.”

“Huh?” Without thinking, I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around the straw, sucking up the last dregs and making a loud sound. “Oh, I guess I was.”

“Mind if I get you another? Bartender’s topping off mine at the moment.”

“Uh, alright. Another sounds great.”

He smiled and nodded before turning his attention to the bartender and raising his fingers again. She hurried over, an expectant look on her face as if part of her hoped he might pop the freaking question right then and there. Her face fell a bit when she noticed that he was talking to me.

“I’ll take my next one over here. And for her…” He casually pointed his raised fingers in my direction. “Another Bloody Mary?”

I liked that he was actually asking what I wanted instead of trying to pull off some alpha male thing that I’d dealt with on so many dates. I gave the matter a bit of consideration, and quickly decided that another jug of tomato juice in my belly was the last thing I wanted.

“Vodka and club soda with a twist of lime, please.” I had my “no drinks before a flight” rule, but all the same, I desperately needed something to calm my nerves.

The bartender nodded and was off. Once she was gone, I decided to finally put the awkwardness to bed by actually introducing myself like a normal person.

I offered him my hand. “Genevieve West. But everyone calls me Gen.”

At the mere mention of my name, the expression on his face turned to something very different. He regarded me with a strange, flummoxed look, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d said.

“Did you just say Genevieve West?” he asked.

“I did. Not a fan of the name or something?”

“That’s not it at all. It’s a beautiful name, actually. Just that I’ve been sitting over on the other side of the bar trying to figure out why the hell you look so damn familiar. As soon as you said your name, I realized why.”

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