Page 3 of Tycoon

“Duh! But Darriun doesn’t have to know that. Look at this article,” Stacy said retrieving her phone off the table. She unlocks her screen and taps it a couple of times before she hands it over to me.

I glanced at the advertisement, its bold letters proclaiming “The Book Boyfriend Dating Agency” in eye-catching fashion. “Download the app and find your match today!”

The idea of seeking a fake boyfriend through a dating app feels both daunting and oddly appealing.

“Damn Stacy! Are all these men for real? I feel like I’ve stepped into Hunkalicious heaven!

“This is the real deal. My cousin Shanda used it and now she’s getting married in the fall,”

My eyes widened; you mean to tell me she found Malcom on this app. Why am I just now hearing about it?”

“I didn’t want to tell her business, but this is for a great cause. I want you to stick it to Darriun and this is a great way to do it. Download this app and pick you out the hunkiest man available. Make that bastard regret ever letting you go.”

Could this really work? I could accept the invitation to my ex’s wedding and keep my pride by bringing a date at the same time?

For a moment, I entertained the notion of not being petty and get back at Darriun but as quickly as the thought arises, I pushed it aside, reminding myself that my pride is worth salvaging. I handed Stacy’s phone back and picked up my own. I quickly typed out a message letting Darriun know when and where we can meet. Then I clicked on the apple store to download The Book Boyfriend Dating app.

“That’s my friend,” Stacy gave me a satisfied look before we began eating again. Already my heart felt lighter. The thought that a swipe of a screen or the click of a button could give me this much hope lessens my anger and fills me with optimism.

CHAPTER TWO

Amara

Once I got home from Stacy’s and my lunch date anger coursed through me one again as I took the wedding invitation out of my purse. I tossed it on the center of my living room table. I glanced down at it once again and read, “Please join us to celebrate the union of Darriun Banks and Tina Harris,” it read. The date staring at me blurred my eyes. I swiped my hand across my eyes. I will not cry over that man even though I still can’t believe my ex had the audacity to do this to me. Now I’m back to questioning myself about should I go, or shouldn’t I? All these questions rushed through my head. I’m sure of one fact and that is if I did attend, I wasn't about to show up alone. No, I needed someone who would absolutely turn heads, someone who would make Darriun second-guess his life choices.

I flopped down onto my leather sofa after I poured me a glass of wine, the cushion hugging me like an old friend, and pulled out my phone. It was time to dive into the BBF app—a treasure trove of potential “book boyfriends” who could step right off the page and into real life. The app was exclusivity personified; a digital Rolodex of high-profile bachelors, each more swoon-worthy than the last. CEOs, philanthropists, doctors—they were all at my fingertips, ready to play the part of charming companion or dashing date.

As I scrolled through BBF, the soft glow from my phone illuminated my face with an array of possibilities. Each profile was a promise of romance, a story waiting to be told. There was Marcus, the jaw-droppingly gorgeous surgeon who volunteered at animal shelters in his spare time. Then came Ethan, the witty tech mogul who enjoyed art galleries and spoke three languages.

But it wasn't just about making Darriun's jaw drop—it was about finding someone who could spark that elusive connection, even if it was just for one dazzling evening. And as I swiped through the app, I couldn't help but wonder if among these curated profiles, there might be someone looking for the same thing I was. Someone genuine and didn’t play games.

“Amara Hughes, what are you getting yourself into?” I murmured to myself with a hopeful smile curling at my full lips. But deep down, I knew. I was setting the stage for a night that would be unforgettable and not just for Darriun.

I perched on the edge of my sofa, sipping a glass of wine. My gaze swept over my townhouse, taking in the grey walls trimmed with white. abstract art adorned the walls, the dark burgundy drapes adorning my windows that framed the Georgia skyline. This was my sanctuary, proof of years of hard work and persistence.

I took a deep breath, letting the sweet liquid courage coat my throat as I tapped the screen, immersing myself once again in the sea of potential plus-ones.

“Don’t give up,” I murmured in a low tone. There has to be someone that snatches my attention. Let's find you a prince for the night, shall we?” I am half-amused by my own audacity. However, beneath the playful tone, there is a sense of fear and a desire for something authentic despite the charade of profiles parading before me.

I keep scrolling and see there is an opera singer who had scaled the Swiss Alps. A diplomat with eyes that told stories of international intrigue. There was Alex, with his windswept hair and a bio that promised adventure; his photo atop Kilimanjaro spoke of heights I longed to climb, but not alone. Then came Michael, whose scholarly gaze peered. Yet, despite their impressive resumes and airbrushed photos, I sought more than just a handsome face to parade at the wedding. I longed for laughter that would vibrate within my soul, conversations that would remain in my thoughts long after the night had passed.

My finger hovered over the screen, pausing with each new profile. I imagined the tales they could tell, the secrets they harbored behind well-rehearsed smiles. Who among them could transform an evening from a simple ruse into something more beyond my expectations?

“Someone real,” I murmured, the words barely audible above the sounds of the outside noise. Someone who could look beyond the gloss and glamour of my world and see the woman longing to be seen for who she was, not what she had achieved.

I asserted that Amara Hughes deserves nothing more than the conviction in my voice as I continue my search. The wine stimulated my mood, urging me to discover that elusive spark and the promise of a genuine connection.

I might be foolish, but I dared to hope for a fairy tale, even if it lasted only until midnight. And with each swipe on BBF, the profiles blurred into one another, a variety of maybes and what-ifs, until...

Andrew Del Rossi.

His name rolled off my tongue, a whisper of possibility. The profile picture captured him mid-laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners, an air of ease among the trappings of success. His bio read like a challenge; the words of a man who relished life's finer things yet wasn't defined by them. He was the owner of a thriving tech giant, a tycoon, a philanthropist, a lover of jazz... How easily he could sweep me off my feet in a dance of intellect and wit.

I hesitated, my finger lingering over his image. Andrew Del Rossi was the kind of man who didn't just inhabit a room—he owned it, charmed it, left an indelible mark upon it. Could I step into his world without losing myself? The risk was tantalizing, a gamble against the safe bets I'd placed before. A fluttering in my chest—a mix of fear and thrill—signaled the weight of this choice.

I needed to stop procrastinating. This isn't about forever. It's just one night, one wedding. Yet, even as the rational part of my brain counseled caution, something deeper urged me to give this a try and not allow fear to control me. Even though I’ve never done anything like this before, there is a first time for everything.

“Take the leap,” I whispered, as much a command as it was a plea.

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