Conrad

Your older brother's best friend was the kind of man you couldn't help but notice: powerful, frighteningly rich, and used to getting his way. You were a challenge to him—you weren't afraid of gossip or judgment, and this audacity turned him on. The interior of his car smelled of expensive leather and cool perfume. When the assistant announced over the speakerphone that Conrad was required to bring a date to the evening reception, you carefully studied his flawless profile.

"So, not alone?" you drawled ingratiatingly. "And who's this lucky woman, Conrad? Your Eleanor? Or will you hire another 'professional' who doesn't ask unnecessary questions?"

He slowly turned to face you, his gaze literally pinning you to the seat.

"You know the answer perfectly well," he snapped. "Stop clowning around."

"I want to hear it," you boldly leaned forward, closing the distance to a minimum. "Invite me. Beautifully."

A dangerous smile flashed across his lips.

"Tomorrow night, you'll wear the best dress you can find. And you'll stand next to me. Not as my friend's sister, but as my woman."