Page 7 of Rival to the Billionaire

What's the fun of being a billionaire if you can't get whatever you want, whenever you want? Every year, I get a little better at asking for what I want, how I want it.

And I always get it.

The sight of red hair and caramel skin crossing the dance floor reminds me that that's 'almost' true. Thanks to Jenny Forde's interference, I don't yet have the one thing I want more than anything else.

The launch of the Ultimate Reading app.

It's only a matter of time before it goes worldwide. But Jenny's objections have added second thoughts to our Hare & Holeton board—added doubt to the one thing I've truly thought of as mine.

And I protect what's mine.

"Ry-Ry?"

The syrupy voice of Deidre Moseley draws me from the sight of Jenny. I shift my gaze back to the swaying breasts of the vlogger who's leaning in to talk to me, her hand on my bicep.

"Deidre? What's up?" I ask, pulling her into the shadows of the dance floor.

"We are going to the dance floor at some point, right? I mean, you must dance, right?" she says, fixing her hair behind her ear.

I chuckle. "Well, I can dance. If the occasion calls for it." I look around. "Not sure that this occasion does."

"Any place where there's music calls for dancing. It wouldn't have to be fancy. Can you 'Dougie'?"

"I'm six-foot-three, two hundred pounds, Deid. Does it look like I can Dougie?"

She pouts. "Well, I love to dance. I want to be a 'dancing vlogger'. And I want to do it in all the hottest clubs of the world. With all the hottest guys," she says, turning toward me with a sly smile.

"Hmmm," I hum. "I think some 'horizontal dancing' can be arranged. In a nice, private room." I step closer to her. "I think we can work something out."

"So, you'll dance with me?"

"How about you lead?" I smile. "You're the expert, after all."

Her big, brown eyes go wide. "Great!" Grabbing my hand, she pulls me towards the dance floor, clearly not catching my hints on where we're going.

I throw a look over my shoulder to make sure everyone is still suitably distracted.

I hang back for a moment, letting my date reach the dance floor first. It doesn't take her long to get everyone's attention.

I'd be a fool to say that her body wasn't fantastic. She's got the kind of curves that'll hold your attention and keep it for a long time.

But no matter how good she looks to the camera and the people taking in her moves, that can't make up for a body that moves like a plastic bag blowing in the wind.

She's got the coordination of a one-year-old.

I grab a drink from a passing waiter and step onto the floor, watching her as she executes a move with the same haphazard enthusiasm she has for working the camera. The glass of champagne barely hits my lips when I notice Julian Sabado step out onto the floor.

With Jenny stepping in behind him.

"Oops," Deidre says, sneaking up on me with a wicked grin. "Looks like I picked the wrong song to Dougie to. It's way too slow."

I clear my throat. "Looks like it. You know, maybe we should just step aside. This isn't really my scene."

"Nah. That's okay. So, you're shy. I was totally expecting you to be more, uh, active."

"Sorry to disappoint," I say, taking a sip of my drink.

"Nuh-uh, you're doing me a favor—I'm dancing my butt off, but nobody's filming me. But you," she produces her cellphone, waving it in my face, "right now, you're the star of my channel. Just the fact that you're here is winning me tons more subscribers. Everybody wants to know who the dark-haired guy I arrived with is!" she adds, practically squealing.

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