Page 31 of Rival to the Billionaire

"Okay," the man I'm trying to fool says. "Wanted to let you know that the Next-in-Tech introductory cocktail hour is starting soon. I'm going to need dibs on the shower soon." There's a pause. "Or…do you need more time…to finish?"

Damn it.

"No, I'm done. I'll be out in a second."

I give myself a glance in the mirror, give myself a final pep talk as I settle back into reality.

The reality that the real adult Ryder is nothing like the fantasy. The reality that he's no longer a viable option as a chief executive at Hare & Holeton.

The reality that he's not interested in me anymore.

And the main realization, the sobering reality that I need to forget this, this fantasy that only leads to a dead end.

I get dressed, attempting to dry myself as quickly as possible.

ChapterNine

RYDER

I could have sworn I heard my name. I could have sworn I heard Jenny's voice from the bathroom. I could have sworn I heard her moan it.

I stop for a moment and lift my glass of champagne to my lips as the Next-in-Tech conference cocktail hour stretches on.

I'd prepared for this shindig by taking the shortest, hottest shower of my life, trying to erase the sound of Jenny Forde crooning something that sounded eerily close to my name. Something that sounded really, really fucking hot.

When I came out of the bathroom of our hotel suite, she was gone. I checked my phone and noticed she'd left me a text.

Getting ready with Carmina. See you later, I guess

The message had been sent about thirty minutes ago.

I've been peeking out of the open doors at the conference venue, trying to spot the two women.

I spot a few of the other personalities here, of course.

Julian Sabado, caught in a conversation with one of the most talkative venture capitalists on the west coast, waves to me from a corner of the room. Chastity Sanders, of course, saunters by in a sleek black number as she chats up some unsuspecting attendee, her fiancé still noticeably absent. And so on.

But I can't find Jenny.

Perched underneath a twinkling golden chandelier by the bar, I try to blend into the crowd while I look out over the sea of heads. Clouds of French perfume and aftershave tickle my nostrils. A mélange of hushed conversations makes it difficult to hear even the music that's playing from the background. I scan the room once more.

Maybe I'm just bored. Maybe I'm being paranoid and just need a distraction from the self-doubt I feel.

But what I really need to do is try to forget the wet, slippery sounds that Jenny made in the bathroom earlier. That needy, rough sound that I'm still hearing as I peer into the crowd.

The skin around my throat is hot. I decide to tug at my tie, loosening it enough to let the cool air penetrate through the soft fabric of my shirt. The heat underneath my neck still somehow manages to travel southward, concentrating below my waist and into my groin.

Jesus.

I drink some more.

I'm making a fool of myself.

I'd better go find Jenny somehow. I'd better just step outside and talk to her. I'd better find a way to make this stop. I'm about to push myself up from my seat when a hard hand shoots out of nowhere to pat me on the back. I look to the left and there's my brother Alton, staring back at me, his blue eyes widening and a sly smile on his face.

"Ignoring me, as always."

I blink. "What?"

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