Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(51)

“Are you all right?” Logan asked as they entered the elevator and waited for their floor. He was dressed in a gorgeous suit with nearly invisible pinstripes that had been tailored to fit his handsome form. He wore an equally dark gray shirt underneath it, with the collar slightly open and no tie. It wasn’t a super formal event by his standards.

“I’m okay,” Bront? told him. “Just nervous.”

“I know.”

She looked at him. “How do you know?”

“You have this strange giggle that you do when you’re nervous.” His eyes glinted down at her in amusement. “That, and you’ve got a death grip on my sleeve.”

She released his arm with a flush. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. His mouth began to move over her neck and jaw, pressing whispering little kisses over her skin. “You look utterly delectable. If we weren’t heading to this party, I might be convinced to stop this elevator and see what you’re wearing under that dress.”

“I’ll spoil the suspense for you,” she said flirtatiously. “Nothing.”

He groaned, pulling her h*ps against his own. “No tan lines, either?”

“Nope. I spent my day at the beach totally nude.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and grinned. “I had good company, if I recall.”

“The best.” He leaned in and lightly kissed her lips.

The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. A sea of people stood before them, and a wave of laughter and light applause erupted at the sight of Logan Hawkings and his date wrapped around each other. Logan simply smiled, releasing Bront? and extending a hand to hold the elevator open for her. “Very funny,” he said to the few people clapping nearby.

Mortified, Bront? stepped out of the elevator, her hand automatically going to touch the expensive necklace at her throat. Not the entrance she’d wanted to make. She wanted to look good, but she also wouldn’t have minded blending in with the scenery despite her backless gown. That hope had flown out the window, though. She’d shown up kissing a billionaire, and judging by the looks some of the women were casting in her direction, that was an unforgiveable offense.

It was going to be a long night.

A hand went to the small of her back, and Bront? jumped, relieved that it was Logan. “Come on. We should go say hello to our host.”

She nodded, allowing him to steer her through the party, mentally noting everyone. The room was glitzy, strings of lights hanging from the ceiling and chic decor. There was an ice sculpture in the center of the room that looked like a skyscraper of some kind, and soft music played from a band in the corner of the room. No one was dancing. Instead, everyone was dressed in suits or cocktail dresses, clutching glasses of wine and chatting in small, close-knit groups. Small party indeed.

Making conversation and drinking. Okay. She could do that. “Not even the gods fight against necessity.”

They approached a gray-haired man and his silver-haired wife. Both were kitted out in black, the woman’s neck sparkling with a thick choker of diamonds. Both lit up at the sight of Logan and turned toward him.

“Bront?,” Logan said. “I want you to meet my newest business partner, Doyle Bullet, and his wife, Rita.”

Her eyes widened at the name. The only Doyle Bullet she knew of was an oil tycoon who was sometimes mentioned in the news. She thrust her hand out. “Pleased to meet you both. I’m Bront? Dawson.”

Rita took her hand, smiling. “How lovely to meet you. Such an unusual name, too.”

“Thank you,” she said, noticing how Rita’s fingertips had barely grazed her hand. “It’s not after any Bront? in particular. Or rather, any or all of them. Pick a Bront?, any Bront?.” A high-pitched giggle escaped her.

Logan cast her a knowing look.

Oh, hell. She’d just done her nervous laugh again. She quickly shook Doyle’s hand, humiliated.

“Thank you for inviting us tonight,” Logan said smoothly. “And for letting me bring a friend on such late notice.”

“But of course,” Rita said generously, smiling at Bront? and then at Logan. “Would you excuse me? I just want to make sure that the caterers have everything under control.”

She slipped away, leaving Bront? and Logan with Doyle.

Doyle turned to Logan. “Don’t suppose that you saw what the Dow closed at today? It was a bloodbath in there.”

“I was in meetings all afternoon.” Logan casually snagged two glasses from a passing waiter and handed one to Bront?. “What happened?”

“News report about more banking scandals, of course,” Doyle said with a chuckle. He turned to Bront?. “Do you dabble in investments, my dear?”

She clutched her wineglass, resisting the urge to touch the necklace at her neck to make sure it was safe. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

He gave her a friendly smile. “Well, you should consider it. You’ll never make any money if you don’t risk any money.”

“Of course,” she said, flustered. This was really not going well.

“Logan, you old dog. When did you get back?” A man’s cheerful voice boomed behind Bront?, making her jump.

She turned, and to her surprise, she saw Logan clapping hands and a slapping backs with a large blond man.