Page 14 of Milk For The Billionaire's Little

“I need to throw a masquerade ball,” I repeated, trying to sound nonchalant. “Soon.”

“You’re serious?”

“I have a date,” I said, a little smile tugging at my lips. “And I kind of need the event to exist so I can send him the details.”

Another pause.

“I donoteven want to know, do I?”

“No, Seth,” I said, grinning now. “You really don’t.”

He sighed. “Fine, Boss. Give me an hour. I’ll get you a venue and a time.”

“You’re the best.”

“Keep your nice words,” he grumbled. “I’m going to be asking for a long vacation after this. Probably at your house in the Hamptons.”

“Consider it done.”

8

JAMES

When I was told I had a delivery, I half suspected it was the mask. Kennan seemed like the type to be a little extra and bring it himself instead of waiting until the day of the event. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Maybe I just wanted it to behim.

But when I went downstairs to the door, it wasn’t.

It was a man in a suit. Very business-like. Fancy, even. He was holding a garment bag in one hand and a paper shopping bag in the other, a weird orange-colored one.

“I take it you’re James?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I was asked to bring these to you.”

“Thank you,” I said automatically, my brain still catching up to what was happening.

Then I hesitated. “Can I ask a question?”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop me.

“Are you sure it’s me? Should I, like… show you ID or something?” Nothing in a garment bag was cheap. Ever.

“No, I’m sure it’s you,” he said with a smile. “They’re from Mr. … they’re from Kennan.”

Just hearing his name sent a little thrill through me. We hadn’t used names for long, so it still felt new, like a gift every time he said mine or I said his.

Kennan and I had been chatting back and forth about the event, although not really about the event. More like… using the event as an excuse to talk. And neither of us seemed in a rush to stop doing that.

“Should I sign anything?” I asked.

“No, you’re good. Have a nice night, sir.”

Sir.That made me laugh a little internally. The only time I’d heard someone call me sir was when they were about to tell me I needed to fill out more paperwork. Definitely not from someone this well-dressed. It was weird now that I thought about it—that a delivery guy would be so dressed up.

I shrugged it off and brought the bags back up to my room.

The first thing I did was unzip the garment bag. Inside was a suit. Or maybe a tux? I didn’t even know the difference. How horrible was that? I ran my fingers down the lapel. What sat inside was definitely not a box store special. This outfit wasnice. The garment bag gave nothing away about where it originated, but the suit inside said it was someplace I wouldn’t be welcome. That was for sure.

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