Page 3 of The Billionaire Dating Game

“My money still opens doors,” Alexei Popova said, clutching a glass of scotch in one hand as he buried the other in the pants pocket of his tuxedo.

“Don’t kid yourself, Alexei,”—his business rival, Rodriguez Balasco, nodded to indicate the banquet hall he left—“you were invited because they’re afraid you’ll ruin them if they piss on your shoes.” He walked further onto the balcony overlooking the city.

If Alexei turned around, he’d see the bright lights from the Eiffel tower in the distance. He’d hear the hum of the city carried on the wings of the warm summer breeze. A deep inhale would flood his senses with the rich wine being served by the waiters while imagining buttery coquilles Saint-Jacques.

Alexei wasn’t here for the view. He was here for charity and to make all the people who betrayed him very uncomfortable.

“What about you…aren’t you afraid of me?”

The pretentious thrum of classical music didn’t drown the sound of whispered words behind his back or the curious stares as many of the guests glanced, then quickly looked away from him. Nor did the expensive scotch temper his mood.

Rodriguez shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I know better than to measure dicks with you.”

Alexei cocked a quizzical brow. Rodriguez wasn’t a friend, but he wasn’t an enemy either. He had taken a mutual stance when scandal had engulfed Alexei. Lucky bastard. Then again, Rodriguez had survival instincts since his father and grandfather were both military men.

Popova’s family wealth started twenty-one years ago on the night Alexei and his siblings traded New York for Wheelcaster, Louisiana. Rodriguez, however, came from old money—his family had bought prime real estate all over New Jersey for pennies on the dollar that was now worth millions. While the young Balasco dabbled in business, and Alexei could give him a run for his money, they both knew a couple of failed business ventures wouldn’t hurt Rodriguez’s bank account.

“I have money, but you have an eerily brooding determination,” Rodriguez said. “It’s tiring.”

Alexei chuckled.

“The room hasn’t stopped buzzing since you arrived.”

Let them whisper.“I don’t listen to gossip, Rodriguez.”

“Are the rumors true? Did you burn down that gym in New York?”

Alexei gulped a mouthful of his liquor, savoring the path it burned to his stomach. He had been seventeen the night of the fire, and the sting of betrayal coupled with the death of his mother pushed him over the edge. No one except his brother and sister knew the details of that night. Or that was what he had thought until the police came knocking on his door. “Everyone here knows she did you dirty, man, but you can’t blame her for wanting to protect her company.”

Alexei sneered. “Jasmine Dalyi did more than ‘do me dirty.’ She betrayed me.” He was past the age of some trusting adolescent that could be led by his heart…or his dick.

“That was personal. This is business,” Rodriguez said, taking a cigar from his breast pocket and clenching it between his teeth. “Dalyi Enterprises needs new investors and without you giving your friends the go-ahead, they won’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”

He kept his mouth shut.

“We were all making money before this. You should consider—”

“Do you think I would give Jasmine a nickel of my money?” What the hell kind of drugs are in that cigar?”

“Forget about her and think of the profits we were making when you were part of the team.” Rodriguez sighed. “Dalyi Enterprises is hemorrhaging money right now but with your know-how, we could be making bank, and every investor wants to make that happen.”

Jasmine needed new investors and his connections.That knowledge only made what he had planned for her tech company easier. He wanted to hurt her as much as she’d hurt him. When she was on the brink of losing everything, he would let her fail or bounce back, the same way he had.

Alexei laughed, drawing more than one curious stare. Let them. He was about to tell Rodriguez to find another scapegoat when his entire body hummed in awareness.

“Fóllame, ¿no es ella una belleza?” Rodriguez said in Spanish, taking a drag from his cigar.

Alexei followed his gaze and sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the woman standing in the entryway. Standing was an understatement. From across the room, he could tell her face had minimal makeup from how naturally radiant her deep dark brown skin glowed under the lighting. She shifted, and her thigh peeked out from the slip in the floor-length black dress. A silver belt hugged her waist, accentuating the flare of her hips. His dick strained in his pants, growing annoyingly hard from the sight of her curves.

Slowly, his gaze moved upwards, caressing the deep V-neck—she was generous there too—before homing in on her face again as she searched the room.

She was gorgeous.

He was spellbound.

This woman wasn’t standing—he corrected—she was making an entrance.

If he wasn’t over women, he would approach her, perhaps ask her to dance under the moonlight where her beauty rivaled the stars.

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