Billionaires Dollar Series

The car pulls to a stop outside a brick mid-rise, no more than four stories tall. I shoot Madison a text to let her know I’m outside.

A smattering of unease sets in as I look out the window. As far as magic tricks go, this might be the most daring one I’ve attempted yet.

Pulling a fiancée out of a hat.

Vanishing her into thin air again in the next.

If this works out, I’ll owe her a hell of a lot more than just pretending to be her rebound in front of that cap-wearing ex of hers.

I turn my attention back to my phone-when the US market closes, another one opens-and monitor a few of my accounts. It’s not until the driver clears his throat that I look up.

Maddie walks down the steps in a pair of flat shoes, a black dress hugging her form. It’s long-sleeved, and it goes to her knees, but the fit is everything her hoodie the other day had not been.

She’s not the girl I remember from childhood anymore.

She’s a grown woman, and it shows. Oh, she’s not the sinfully hot kind of woman, the kind to grace the cover of magazines. Don’t get me wrong-she’s sexy as hell. But it’s the understated kind. The one that tells a man this is a woman who’s able to give you advice, one who won’t be afraid to tell you what she likes in bed. It’s the girl-next-door vibe, and I’m finding it far more enticing than I should.

I open the door for her. “You look great.”

“Better than a hoodie,” she says-putting her in the running for Understatement of the Year-and slides into the car.

She fastens her seat belt with a huff, the sleek blackness of her hair swinging forward. Had I noticed her bangs before? I don’t think I had.

“This is going to be interesting.”

“Nervous?”

She looks at me, and the flash in her eyes is familiar where nothing else about her is. Fierce determination, the kind I’d see before she challenged me to a bike race down the hill in our neighborhood.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

For all the other things that have changed, this one hasn’t, even if the eyes staring back at me are now framed by long, mascara-laden lashes.

“I won’t admit it if you won’t,” she challenges.

“And I never will.”

“So I won’t either.” She shoots me a grin, triumphant, and holds out her hand. “My left finger is feeling awfully empty.”

“Look who’s coming around to a bit of bling,” I say, reaching into the pocket of my suit.

“I think it’ll help me get into character,” she says. “I’m trying to think like someone who would be engaged to you might.”

I snort. “And how would someone engaged to me think?”

“See, that’s the thing. I don’t know yet. I’m still workshopping.”

“Just be yourself,” I say, sliding the ring onto her finger. Courtesy of the sizing, it fits perfectly. We both watch in silence as it sparkles in the dim lighting.

She pulls her hand back. “Just be myself?”

“Yeah,” I say, though I’m not sure if my advice is sound. “Perhaps just a bit less…”

“A bit less what?”

“Opinionated? The Maddie I remember had opinions on everything.”

She rolls her eyes, looking so much like her ten-year-old self that I want to grin. “One of us had to.”

“Ouch.” I clutch a hand to my chest. “On the eve of my proposal.”

Maddie crosses her legs, and my eyes dart down of their own volition. If she notices, she doesn’t comment, eyes on the ring.

“I’ve never worn anything like this,” she says. “Did you really think a woman would want that giant ring? The first one you pointed at?”

I snort. “Yes.”

She sounds disbelieving. “The women you date would want that?”

“Are you still trying to get into character?”

“I’m trying to wrap my head around it all.” She glances down at her ring, twirling it around her finger so only the platinum band shows. “I’ve searched on the internet about the people we’re meeting.”

“You’ve done your homework,” I say.

“Tried to, at least. Knowing their names and what they look like won’t give me an edge when it comes to talking points. Unless you want me airing how little I know about steel, I think I’ll be quiet.”

“Sit there and look pretty,” I tell her, “and I’ll be happy.”

She rolls her eyes again. “I know, I know, my job is to make you look good.”

I grin. “A fake girlfriend seems far easier than a real one. I should have done this ages ago.”

“Yes, why haven’t you?” she teases. “Imagine all the time you might’ve saved.”

“A lost opportunity.” My eyes snag on her hand, resting between us on the leather seat, and the ring on her finger. I hadn’t given it a moment’s thought all week, but seeing it on her is different.

I reach out and wrap my fingers around hers.

Madison looks at me. “What?”

I raise an eyebrow. “We might have to touch tonight. A few instances here and there, just enough to make it look realistic.”

Her fingers soften under mine, but her gaze doesn’t. “Like your hand on my lower back the other day.”

“Like that, yes.”

Maddie nods, her eyes holding every bit of challenge I’ve ever seen, the same ember that had sparked just a few minutes ago.

“I’ll play my role,” she says. “And I have the date and time for you to play yours.”