Billionaires Dollar Series

“Hmm,” I say. Her hand is warm and soft beneath mine. “And when’s that?”

“Drinks after work tomorrow,” she says. “Everyone will be there, both kitchen staff and wait crew.”

“Including your ex.”

“Including my ex,” she says, voice low.

I squeeze her hand. “I’ll be there to hold up my part of the bargain.”

The car slides to a smooth stop outside an innocuous brownstone. I thank the driver and open the door, but there’s not even a sign on this place.

“This can’t be right,” I say. “Walker sent me the address, but this isn’t a restaurant.”

Madison’s voice is high. “Oh, this isn’t just any restaurant! Renault’s is one of the city’s best, after Marco’s.” Her sparkling gaze slides to mine. “You know, their waiting list is legendary. When did you decide on this dinner?”

“Last week.” I offer her my arm. “But nobody says no to Albert Walker.”

Not even me, I add to myself, or I wouldn’t be here with a fake fiancée.

Madison leads me around the building, stopping at an inconspicuous entrance into the basement.

“Here?”

“Yes,” she says, and there’s no mistaking the excitement in her voice. “It’s in the basement.”

Stepping through the door is like entering a different world. The floor is cobblestone, though how they managed that, I don’t know. Dim lighting gives the small place a rustic charm, as does the softly playing violinist in the corner.

The Walkers and their wives-they should form a rock band with that name-are already here. Albert and Dennis both stand as we arrive, the former smiling and the latter scowling. It seems the apple had rolled far away from the tree on that one.

“Carter,” Albert says, extending a hand over the table. I shake his in a firm grip, my other still resting on Maddie’s back.

“Liam, please,” I say. “Dennis, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.”

“This is Rita, my wife, and Beth, my daughter-in-law.” He sweeps his hands to the two women at the table, both of whom give me smiles far friendlier than the son.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, pulling out the chair for Maddie. “This is my fiancée, Madison.”

Maddie’s voice is soft with a smile. “Thank you for inviting me along tonight.”

“Of course we did, honey,” Albert says. “We like to get to know our potential business partners, and that includes their partners.”

“Nobody knows them better,” Rita adds, her coiffed hair so stiff that it doesn’t move when she shakes her hair. But her smile is all warmth.

Maddie opens her menu, sucked into it like those board games in horror stories, gone for the world. I can see when it happens, seated beside her. The next question goes right over her head.

“She’s a foodie,” I reply to Dennis, who asked what field Maddie works in. I drape an arm around the back of her chair in a casual mark of ownership. “A chef, actually. I usually let her order for me-it’s more exciting that way.”

It’s a complete ad lib, but it’s a crowd pleaser. Albert nods and looks down at his menu. “Perhaps I’ll do the same and let the young lady pick my food,” he says. “I’m feeling adventurous.”

“First time in thirty years that’s happened,” Rita quips.

Maddie looks up from her menu, smiling at the missed joke.

“You’re picking my food tonight,” Albert tells her. “I’ve been informed by your man here that you’re a gourmand, and I want the same treatment you give his and your own tastebuds.”

“Oh, what the heck,” Rita says, putting down her own menu. “Why don’t I get the same?”

Maddie blinks twice, giving me a view of long lashes sweeping over her cheeks.

Play along, I beg.

But my prayer is unnecessary, because her smile is effortless. She’s delighted. “Truly?” she asks, like she’s won a prize.

“Sure thing,” Albert agrees.

“You already know you’re picking mine,” I say, my own menu still unopened on the table. I give her a crooked smile. “You know what I like, sweetheart.”

Her breathing hitches once, but she doesn’t break stride.

“All right.” Her voice is that of a platoon sergeant on the first day of boot camp. “With the exception of Liam, give me the quick and easy. Are you vegetarians? Any dietary restrictions?”

“No and no,” Albert responds. “No weaklings in the Walker family.”

“I think I’ll have the steak,” Dennis says, putting down his menu. His scowl has deepened, even as his wife’s smile has widened.

“Count me in,” she says.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

What a match they make.

Five minutes later, and Maddie has ordered us each an appetizer, entrée and dessert, speaking to the waiter like it’s a different language. I have no idea which of the sets is for me, but eating a bit of odd fish or a mushroom I don’t fancy feels like a small price to maintain the ruse.

My gamble pays off when the food arrives. The smell of truffle, cheese and pasta hangs thick in the air. “Marvelous,” Rita says. “I wouldn’t have ordered this if you hadn’t suggested it, dear.”

“Renault’s sauce is famous. I had to choose it.”

“Where’d you find this one?” Albert asks me, wiping at his mustache with a linen napkin. “She seems far too good to be cozied up to an investment banker.”

Under the table, Madison’s leg bumps mine. I don’t need to look at her to know it’s her version of I told you so. They’ve asked for the origin story, and we’re not even halfway through the evening.

I lean back in my chair, like I’m settling in for a good story. “I met her before I was a banker,” I say. “Otherwise she would never have given me the time of day.”

Maddie laughs. “That’s the secret.”

Rita puts down her wineglass. “So you’ve been together a long time, then?”

“Not at all, actually.” Maddie looks over at me, and there’s warmth in her eyes, a summer meadow beckoning. “We reconnected recently, when Liam came back to town.”