Page 66 of Rival to the Billionaire

Fear.

Excitement.

In a last-ditch effort to calm myself down, I text Carmina, who’s landed in southeast Asia by now, all to monitor yet another billionaire Anderson brother—Quentin.

I finish off my third minibar bottle of wine as I type to her.

I'm worried about Ryder. He's not answering his phone.

A few moments later, my phone lights up, indicating she received my text. I check the screen and see her typing…

Am I to assume he's not there? You sure he's not just out getting a lap dance or gambling his billion dollar check away? I mean, you guys are in LAS VEGAS ??. And this is Ryder Anderson we're talking about…

I doubt it. Ryder knows how important this conference is. He's been working really hard on that app. He wouldn't abandon his responsibilities right now

A few seconds later, Carmina responds.

Uh oh. You sound dangerously close to defending Ryder, just a little bit.

Holy shit. This is just like those Buffy and Spike episodes where Buffy can't decide if she wants to stake Spike…or have him give her his "big stake". All that sworn enemy passion ???? and sexual tension turning around and around in her head

Oops. Ok. I'm sorry. I'm being dirty. Stop me

No. I just mean if he's busy, I need to know.

And Buffy and Spike…with Ryder? That's not even funny. I'm not defending him. Just checking in

"Checking in"? Is that code for making sure he's not out there giving his "stake" to someone else?? God, the dirty talk is just pouring out of me. I've been celibate for way too long

Yeah, well, some of us like celibacy. And remind me to never again confess to you about kissing a guy, ever

My phone pings with a new text from Carmina.

So…for those of us keeping score at home, how many times have you and your new boy toy kissed?

Just once.

Well, I don't know if making out in a hotel lobby bathroom counts as several separate kisses

I shake my head, wondering why I'm feeding into this.

And he is not my boy toy. It was just a KISS, Carmina. Nothing more. Don't make it into something it's not. Like a relationship.

Well, a kiss kinda implies you've entered into somewhat of a relationship, doesn't it? It's more than just business, isn't it?

I type furiously, my bare feet pacing over the hotel suite's carpeted floor at a brisk pace.

Aren't you forgetting something? HE kissed ME.

And you kissed him back.

In a sharp instant, I reply.

What does it matter? It was a mistake! I'm not some kind of girl who'll fall for Ryder Anderson’s stunts.

He’s not even my type, for that matter. I'm just determined enough not to miss out on this opportunity.

Oh really? Is that why you’re up at, what, 1AM in Vegas worrying? Because of an opportunity?

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