A BILLIONAIRE'S PROMISE

n't even look at me. That was fine. I wasn't here to be seen. I was here to help Sophie, an

e crackled through the earpiece I'd reluctantly agreed to wear.

ds of Manhattan's elite mingled under the glittering chandeliers of The Pierre Hotel, their laughter too loud, their jewelry too heavy, their smiles too pe

on my body. I wasn't a waitress. I was a private care nurse who happened to b

es, and the champagne-God, the champagne probably cost more than my monthly rent. I balanced my tray and weaved through

elf. *Then home to Mom, then sleep,

mpty glass from a nearb

ing shifted in the air, a current I couldn't explain, and I

e he owned the pla

arly cost more than my entire wardrobe combined-midnight blue, tailored so precisely it looked painte

hts, missing nothing. And cold. So impossibly cold, li

ound him like he was a predator they instinctively feared. Women straightened their dresses, men puffed out th

aring until Sophie's voic

? Table seven is

ay. My heart was pounding against my ri

ow, accepting handshakes with the enthusiasm of someone touching garbage, nodding at greetings with barely con

like to be that untouchabl

oice was more insi

and. Table seven. More champagne. Smile. Do

t stop thinki

ering sea. He'd moved to the edge of the room now, away from the press of bodies, and was speaking with an older

m didn't exist in my world. They floated in an orbit so far f

an I'd been before. Close enough to see the sharp line of his jaw, the way his full lips pressed together in

gne mixed with something darker, something that mad

sensing my atten

across the

s suddenly, acutely aware of everything-the weight of the tray in my hands, the c

elt like I was falling into them, tumbling through la

ork-reddened hands, my hair escaping from its tight ponytail. I expected dismissal

een depths-surprise? Interest? I couldn't tell. But it was ther

ought wildly. *He

of us. I forgot the tray in my hands. I forgot Sophie's voice in my ear. I

rrifying, exhilarating feeling that I was stan

Was he about to speak? To

never

ay-and my carefully balanced drinks wobbled dangerously. I gasped, trying to steady them, but it w

ble floor. Liquid splattered across expensive shoes and

ye in the room was on me now. The poor waitress who'd just made a fool of he

only s

os around him. Champagne had splashed his perfect shoes-shoes that probably cost more than my moth

ill looki

my own humiliation, I could have sworn I saw the co

e was

was in

was suddenly the most interesting thi

d away, disappearing int

pounding, my hands shaking, knowing with absolut