Page 26 of Ms. Fortune

WILLOW TREE

NORMANDY

Well, at least we found some humor in all this madness. I was beginning to think the horribleness of this situation would be permanent. Luckily, it's not.

When I get home that evening after work, I can't help but reconsider my feelings toward Brandon. Aside from the obvious physical attraction, he's turning out to be quite the charmer. But as charming as he is, I have to remind myself almost hourly he did offer me money to date him once upon a time. I don't know if he meant it, but the fact sticks with me more than it should. I can't help it.

There were a bunch of photographers outside the house when I got home, as was expected. I'm starting to get the hang of this thing. It sucks I can't go about my daily business like I’m used to. I can't go to the store. I can't go to visit Chelsie at her apartment. I can't drive anywhere. I definitely can’t go anywhere on the strip. I am like an animal in a cage.

Brandon said the press will ease off once they get to know me, but I don't want the press to get to know me. I don't want anyone to get to know me. I want my life to be my life. The whole point was to get my father's business on the map, not me. I am not a fame chaser and definitely not the next Eve Cromwell. I don't want to be the next anything for Brandon Carmichael other than a memory.

We only have a few days to fit in our second date in our agreement, and I've been racking my brain trying to think of something appropriate but not too date-like for us to do. It's a little tricky because I don't know Brandon at all. And, I don't know what billionaires do in their free time outside of counting their money.

The local entertainment changes so often I don't know what would be fun to do. Vegas reinvents itself every three to six months, so figuring out an event or venue will take some research on my part. I find a local variety show that looks interesting, but who knows if Brandon will like it. The exciting thing is the purpose of the show is to raise money for charities and do so in a short amount of time. I'm curious what Mr. Billionaire will do when faced with public charity demands.

When I propose this venue to Brandon, he’s unaffected and eager to check it out. I may or may not have told him about the fundraising aspect of the evening, so this will be a test.

The event is called Dark Mondays since it's based on the premise of Broadway shows being dark on Mondays, and when we arrive, Brandon’s team has already made sure we can enter and leave as inconspicuously as possible, though even that level is uncomfortable. We again stop for photos with the paparazzi. However, we controlled the narrative this time and alerted them to our outing, so I was at least prepared. Brandon showed up in a suit and looks more delicious than any man has a right to, and I need to remind myself I don't like him. And it's not only that he's attractive, obviously, he is attractive physically, but the way he protects me when we're out in public is so comforting, I could get used to it quickly. And his sense of humor is just dark enough to match mine, and I find myself laughing involuntarily at his jokes.

When we arranged tonight's outing via text messages, he had me rolling my eyes so hard I thought they would fall out of my head. But then, I was laughing so hard my stomach started hurting. This is both endearing and infuriating because I don't want to like him. I don't want to feel anything for him other than animosity, but he's making that very, very difficult.

BRANDON: How many billionaires does it take to make a superhero?

ME: I don’t know, tell me.

BRANDON: Three. Two to die and one to never get over it.

ME: That’s horrible.

BRANDON: But wait, there’s more. I even have one-liners.

ME: Oh no…

BRANDON: A guy walks into a bar. He’s immediately disqualified from the limbo contest.

ME: You need to stop. I’m trying to work.

BRANDON: You’re perfectly capable of turning your phone off and ignoring me, you know. ??

So, after another hour of texts, I finally did. And now, he’s in this suit, with an open collar just inviting kisses on the neck, that's going to be the only thing I think about all night. Great. Maybe he was right about me being the one to instigate a kiss between us. Damn him if he's right about that.

We wear our fake personas impeccably throughout the evening, holding hands, leaning our heads together to talk, and whispering into each other's ears during the show. I’d think we were a real couple if I didn't know better. There are moments when I forget we're not and have to check myself. It would be so easy to let myself fall into that trap. Too easy.

I don't want this life. I don't want to live in the spotlight. I don't want to be chased by the paparazzi. I don't want my life on display. I want my life back. And to live it in private. And I want my father's business to thrive. I don't know if I can get to that now after all this. But I'll do what I have to to get there.

When we arrived at the venue, there were listings for silent auction items in the lobby, and one thing of interest to Brandon caught his eye; a signed hockey stick by one of the stars of the local NHL team. He was nonplussed at the charity theme of the evening, and I think he made quite a large bid on that particular item. And I believe the amount was more than the entire monetary goal for the evening. So, that cemented my appreciation of his generosity. And it was even more endearing because he made me walk away before making his bid so I wouldn't see. It lets me know he wasn't doing it for my benefit or to impress me, which is even better.

Toward the end of the show, while Brandon and I are holding hands, he starts rubbing the top of my knuckles with his thumb, and I can't help my physical reaction to his touch. We've been holding hands all night, but this elevates it to an entirely new level. I don't understand it because I think he's done this before, but something in the way he's doing it now is driving me crazy. I have to put my free hand on his to stop him, but leave my hand there as if I only wanted to hold his hand with both of mine. He studies me for a second but then goes back to watching the show.

I can't deny my attraction to him, but I have to. I have to find a way to keep myself in line. It's almost a challenge for me not to be the one to instigate a kiss like he said I would. I have this unnerving need to prove him wrong, and I don't know why. Everything about Brandon is a challenge for me; to my libido, to my mind, to my spirit, to my goals, and a challenge to my way of life. It's exhilarating and exhausting. But it's also addicting.

Out of the corner of my eye, I examine his profile. His powerful features exemplify his personality. His strong jaw shows his confidence. His smile and those god-damned dimples display his humor. And his eyes, which can go from light to dark in a heartbeat, show his intensity. He is the entire package, physically, at least.

When the show is over, we meet with the performers on our way out, and Brandon is gracious in his compliments and gratitude, and something in my heart stirs as I watch him interact with them. It's just a tiny bit, but I can sense a little of the chill I have towards him thaw. I don't get to see him interact with other people outside of his security team, and I'm almost surprised at how it amplifies his humanity for me. He's always on the go and wasn’t human to me until now. I don't know why I thought he was almost a machine.

When he finishes his conversation, he turns to me and grabs my hand to leave, and it's so natural, our fingers sliding together. He notices this, too, and catches my eye. Something passes between us. Some sort of understanding that we both had the same thought at the same time. I shift my gaze away as fast as I can, not wanting him to know I felt it too.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look this evening?” He's helping me into the limousine waiting for us behind the venue, and once we're inside, I give him a wry smile.

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