My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend - Max Monroe Page 0,68
safer territories, she sends another one.
Maybe: Mexican takeout. Your place Tuesday night. And I have a surprise.
Me: What kind of surprise?
Maybe: If I tell you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, silly. You get the food (I’m a crunchy taco and chips and salsa kind of gal) and I’ll meet you at your place around seven.
Me: You drive a hard bargain. But fine. See you Tuesday at 7.
I send up a prayer that Maybe’s surprise isn’t showing me her wrong-day underwear. Because, fuck, I’m not sure if I’d be able to handle it.
Please God. If anything, send Maybe to my apartment Tuesday in a parka.
Maybe
A little after seven, I make my way to Milo’s apartment building. It’s a large, sophisticated looking structure on Park Avenue, otherwise known as one of the richest streets in New York.
Part of me wanted to strangle Lena for not telling me what DP was and encouraging me to text Milo instead. Because holy balls, it’s a little embarrassing I legit thought it meant some kind of double orgasm thing. But another part of me, the one that’s about to have a quiet dinner with Milo, is damned thankful for it.
I can’t deny it was one of the catalysts that brought me right here—standing outside of his swanky apartment building.
A doorman—yes, a fucking doorman—lets me inside.
Once I give him my name, he leads me toward an elevator off the beaten path of the marble encased lobby and escorts me to the sixteenth floor.
Per Gill’s update, “Mr. Ives is expecting you.”
The instant I reach Milo’s floor, the elevator opens directly into his flipping apartment.
He greets me in the foyer in bare feet, a pair of jeans, and a gray T-shirt.
Hell’s bells, bare feet on a man has never looked so damn sexy before.
“Exactly how rich are you?” It’s the first question that pops out of my mouth, and Milo smirks.
“What makes you ask that?”
I look around his place dramatically.
Well, the entrance of his place. Which is damn near the size of my living room.
“Because your building, your apartment…well, these are some swanky digs, Mr. Ives.”
He groans. “You can go ahead and drop the Mr. Ives unless you want me to feel like an old man again.”
I giggle. “Well, you are, like, six years older than me so…”
He rolls his eyes. “Are we going to stand here and discuss my old age or head inside and eat some food?”
“Hmm…” I tap my chin, but he doesn’t give me any time. Instead, he steps forward, tosses me over his strong shoulder and carries me through the foyer, down the hallway, and into the kitchen.
“You can put me down now!” I shout through a giggle.
Milo sets me on the expansive kitchen island and proceeds to grab some plates and cutlery for our food.
“Would you like a glass of wine, Ms. Willis?”
“Is it expensive wine?”
He furrows his brow.
“I mean, is it like a thousand-year-old wine that only rich people like you drink?”
“No.” He snorts. “It’s a fifteen-dollar bottle of white I got at Duane Reed.”
A laugh escapes my lips. “No shit?”
“No. But it is somewhere in between the two. I have a lot of money, but I’m a pretty simple guy, Maybe.”
“A simple guy with a driver and a doorman.”
He laughs. “I never said I don’t enjoy some of the luxuries money can buy. But I don’t make a point to be extravagant in everything I do.”
“I know.” I smile at him. “And I admire that about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course,” I admit. “I read an interview with you in the Times, and I was pleasantly surprised with your responses about living off ramen noodles and Kraft Mac & Cheese for the first few years of your company.”
“I’ve forgone the ramen, but,” he says and opens the pantry, “I’ll never quit the occasional Mac & Cheese.”
I snicker when I see no fewer than ten blue and yellow boxes of Kraft sitting on the center shelf.
“Only a crazy person would quit Kraft.”
“Exactly.”
Together, we carry the wine, plates, and takeout bags into the living room and sit down beside each other on the couch.
Once we’re both settled, and our plates are covered with delicious Mexican, he turns to me with a grin. “So…the surprise…”
“What surprise?” I question. “There’s supposed to be surprise…?”
He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Fine.” I grin and set my plate on the coffee table. “But prepare to be excited. You are in for the most enlightening night of your life. Do you have Netflix?”