Page 13 of Not In A Billion Years

“Then out with it.”

I drag a hand through my hair. “I should’ve said yes to the Jordan ball.”

Thomas’s smirk is merciless. “You so should’ve said yes to the Jordan ball.”

“First tell me what it is you want from me on top of a full confession.”

“Challenged Athletes Charity Gala, this Saturday. Dad has bought a table but can’t go—last-minute withdrawal, no explanation given. Dad wants someone from the family to be present, but I can’t go.”

I hate those evenings almost as much as I despise social media. I’m happy to donate to charities for various causes, but please don’t ask me to penguin up and spend a night making meaningless, polite conversation with middle-aged folks and socialites I’ve nothing in common with.

Before I can refuse, Mila chips in from the intercom, “Before you say no, boss, you should know that Blake Avery is being presented with an award at the gala.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “An award for what?”

Mila replies as if she were reading from a program of the night, which she might very well be doing. “For her outstanding involvement in the impaired athletes’ community. Apparently, she sponsors a girls’ sitting volleyball team, and her workouts include several variations catering to trainees with a range of physical disabilities.”

Thomas chuckles. “This day is getting better and better. Here I came thinking I’d have to grovel, while instead, I’m basically doing you a favor by sending you to the party. You’re welcome, brother.”

I’m not going to lie, the idea of seeing Blake again so soon is tempting. I was already trying to come up with ideas of how to accidentally-on-purpose bump into her and the perfect one just fell into my lap.

Thomas seems to read my mind because he smiles, satisfied. “I’ll send you the details.” He fidgets with his phone, probably forwarding me the invite as we speak. “It’s a black tux gig, which makes me kind of curious to know what dress Miss Avery will show up in.”

You and me both.

Thomas shakes his phone at me. “Guess I’ll find out from the after-party Instagram post, while you lucky dog will get the live show.” My brother knocks on my desk. “Now that’s settled, please tell us how you made an ass of yourself today.”

6

BLAKE

“You have a new follower,” Evan says, strolling into my office, eyes glued to his phone just as I’m about to leave to meet Marissa.

As expected, my best friend and I are going out. But, in a twist of fate, she’s asked to meet at my dad’s restaurant, claiming she needed the carbs to have this conversation and that if we were going to have pizza, we might as well get the best.

I don’t live in Queens anymore, haven’t for a while. But I’m happy to make the trek tonight—and not just for the pizza. I’d be lying if I said I’m not curious to know what went down when MGM realized I sent him on a wild goose chase.

“Just one follower in all of today?” I ask.

That’s way below my average.

“No, I meant one new person of interest.”

I stuff my laptop in my messenger bag, collecting my things before I leave. “Oh, who?”

“Thomas Mercer.”

“As in…?”

“Yep. None other than Gabriel Mercer’s brother.”

I hook my messenger bag over one shoulder and round the desk, leaning in to look at Evan’s screen. “It could be a fake.”

“No, I checked. The profile is legit. It’s his brother.”

Evan scrolls through Thomas’s feed on his phone.

The resemblance is uncanny, even if minor details are different, making Thomas a slightly fairer version. His hair is a lighter brown, a color that must easily turn blond at the tips in summer, and more styled, less tousled. The eyes, instead of the warmest brown, are more of a hazel green. The broad shoulders are the same, but Thomas is smiling in most of his pictures. And while his persona also screams old money and privilege, his vibe is friendlier, less arrogant.

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