Breaking the Billionaire's Rules(67)

Just the warmth of Mia’s hand in mine. The wonder that I feel when I look at her.

The way I never want to let her go.





Epilogue




Six months later





* * *



Mia

I’m touching up my makeup one last time while a guy from wardrobe reinforces a hem on my Reno Sweeney pants.

“Bad luck to wear something that’s being sewn on me,” I say. “And I don’t even care. I feel impervious.”

“You are impervious,” Kelsey says. “We are impervious.”

She and I slap pinkies.

It’s like a dream, being in the show together. We’re pretty sure it’s going to get extended, too. Ticket sales have been through the roof.

The stage manager calls out the ten-minute warning.

Kelsey sees something over my shoulder and her eyes crinkle with glee. “Don’t look now.”

Of course I look. It’s Max, coming through the crowded dressing room with an armful of roses.

I stand. “How’d you get in here?”

“I'm Max freaking Hilton, baby.”

“He’s Max freaking Hilton,” Kelsey says.

I snicker. It’s an inside joke with our group to say that and tease him about it.

But when we’re all hanging out together, we get the real Max Hilton, not the one who drives a Ferrari and spends his days looking pensively over Mediterranean cliffs.

We get the Max who teaches piano and does laundry and remembers people’s birthdays. And is a great friend.

And an even better boyfriend.

“No kissing Reno,” the stage manager says, pointing at Max. “No, no, no.”

“You’ll muss my makeup.” I breathe in the scent of the flowers, so rich and sweet. “Thank you.”

“Nervous?” he asks.

“It’s opening night,” I say.

He leans in. “But are you, really?”

I bring my lips close to his, wishing so bad I could kiss him. “I’ve been training for this all my life.”

He kisses the top of my head, and I’m sure he gets a face full of hairspray smell. “I’ll be out there,” he says.



* * *



The show is an absolute high. There’s no other way to describe it.

I can feel the audience soaring during the peaks; I can feel them swooning when the romance story takes off. Their cheers after our first big tap number fill my chest to the brim.

Most of all, I can feel Max out there, true North in the darkness.

I wait in the wings after the big final dance number as the members of the cast go out to receive applause, starting with the small roles—the sailors and passengers—and working up to the leads.

I catch sight of my parents in the front, right next to Max. It’s beyond thrilling to have them in on opening night.

Finally it’s my turn. I go out with my co-stars. We grab hands and bow as a foursome. The applause feels like starlight.

Max and I take my parents out to dinner at The Four Seasons. The two of us tend to prefer low-key restaurants these days, and he’ll even indulge my passion for diners, but it’s special for my folks. After we drop them at their hotel, we head to The Wilder Club.

Kelsey and Antonio have gotten there early; they’ve staked out our gang’s favorite booth, snuggled up together in the corner of it.

“You sure you want company?” Max asks as we walk up.

“Sit,” Kelsey says.

Max and I slide in. The guys start talking about how great we are, retelling the high points of the show from the perspective of the seats. Just shamelessly stroking our egos.

Drinks come and they keep on.

I catch Kelsey’s gaze and grin. She puts up her pinky, and I put up mine. Long-distance pinky slap.

The four of us double-date a lot. It’s been a total blast. We’re planning a picnic in the park on Monday, and it’s supposed to be perfect weather. I’m bringing the sandwiches.

I’ll be throwing in some cheesy puffs.

Max knits his fingers into mine. “Seriously killed it,” he says.

“And anybody who says otherwise will find the end of my blade,” Antonio jokes.

Jada arrives in full sparkle mode with a couple of other friends. They all shove in. “Are you talking dirty, Antonio?” Jada asks.

Antonio snorts.

Parker comes with another guy; the booth gets so crowded, I have to sit on Max’s lap. Which I don’t mind at all.

When we get back to Max’s place, there are vases of roses everywhere, and champagne on ice on the table.

What is this? I say.

“I wanted to celebrate.”

“I didn’t know! We could’ve left Wilder hours ago.”

He comes to me, begins unbuttoning my shirt. “I wanted to stay. We have a lifetime to celebrate.”

My belly flip-flops. A lifetime. “If you think you’re going to get some action, you’re right.”

He already has my shirt off. “You really were so amazing.”

I’m pushing off his suit jacket. “Action getting more likely.”

Eventually, we’re ripping off each others clothes and throwing them everywhere. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, but I’ve never wanted him so badly.