Page 28 of Filthy Rich Ex's Brothers

It’s impossible to explain how much I need to make sure that money never touches me. I never want any of my success attributed to him in any way. Even my charitable contributions.

So, Ryan is correct. It’s not like I’m asking her to marry me.

But the thought of anyone else touching Serena like I did last weekend makes my brain start to implode in a way I don’t know what to do with. I’m not used to feeling territorial. And when I think of it—the idea of marrying her—it feels good.

Which makes absolutely no sense. The list of reasons why it doesn’t make sense starts with the fact that I barely know her and doesn’t even end with the fact that my brother dated her first.

I have not told Ryan that she is Alex’s ex-girlfriend. And I won’t. First, because then he would easily be able to figure out who she is, and second, becausethatmight change his mind about my great moral standing. Third, because he would enjoy the entire situation far too much for my liking.

“Alright, man.” Ryan does his signature sigh and back-clap as he stands up from the bar, slides his glass in toward the bartender, and glances toward the door. “I have that thing to get to, but havesomuch fun at your fancy party.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, standing and accepting his bro-hug. When I first met Ryan, he would have been thrilled to cometo a launch party. Now, apparently, he’s already had his fill of extravagant events.

My driver is waiting for me at the curb when I walk out into the New York night. A couple leans against the wall to my left, and there’s a group of girls waiting to cross on the opposite side of the street.

While Ryan is becoming increasingly recognizable lately, I’m not. Or, maybe I am recognizable, but not the kind of person that people feel emboldened to approach. Countless times, Ryan and I have been together when someone runs up to him, says they love his TikToks, or tried his recipe, or have a tattoo just like his. And every time, instead of reacting to the person like he should—calling security or telling them to back the fuck up—he just smiles and signs whatever, and takes a picture with them.

I know my name is well known around the city. But Ineverwant to experience that level of fame.

The ride over to the hotel is quiet. My driver has been with me for nearly a decade now, and he knows I prefer a silent ride. A chance to clear my head, often between one meeting and the next.

Now, it’s a chance to try to prepare myself for seeing Serena again.

I should have cut things off with her. That would have been the smart thing to do. Instead, I’m just repeating past mistakes.

Climbing out of the car, I make a late entrance to the party.

Just like before, Serena is across the room, wearing the dress I left for her in our hotel suite, her hair loose around her shoulders, her skin creamy, shoulders freckled. Just like before, she’s engrossed in what she’s doing, the camera like an extension of herself.

And, just like before, I can’t think about anything but how badly I want that woman in my bed.

Chapter 14

Serena

Iwake up to a pounding in my head and a sticky, persistent nausea in my throat that makes it hard to swallow.

Eyelids fluttering, I grit my teeth and push my body up into a sitting position, desperately trying to maintain control over the sick feeling sloshing around in my stomach.

Okay, so apparently, I had a little too much champagne last night.

Just like last time, I reach over to feel for Travis, but he’s not there. Except this time, when I open one eye and look at the other pillow, it’s completely undisturbed.

The memories come back to me. Catching and holding Travis’s gaze from across the crowd all night. Waiting for the moment he might want to go back up to the room, but each time finding him deep in discussion with one executive or another.

So, when my work for the evening was finished, I listened to the event planner and took advantage of the refreshments. I tried lobster puffs and drank the expensive champagne. I wished I’d had more than just my camera bag, so I could have snuck some food home to my roommates. Lillie, in particular, would have loved all the food they served.

By the time Travis finally gave me a little nod and we headed off for our rendezvous, it was hard for me to walk. I’d stopped in the hallway just outside the ballroom, hand on the wall as I tried to slip my heels off.

“Serena.” Travis was there instantly, his hand at my elbow, steadying me.

“Shh,” I’d whispered, turning around and tugging him in close to me. “This is asecret, remember?”

And he had smiled and shuffled me into the elevator. I’d crowded against him, kissing his neck, tugging at his hair, excited for the moment we’d walk through the hotel room door and start stripping each other down.

Which we did. Or, rather, Travis did.

He slid my dress and shapewear down off my body, shaking his head at the tight shorts I’d worn beneath the dress. Then, he’d walked me backward toward the bed.