I Fell for My Best Friend's Brother, the Billionaire

§01

Cameron Harrington sighed, the sound barely audible over the clink of ice in her Pellegrino.

“I’m bored, Vera.”

She said it like she was announcing a global recession.

From my perch on the plush velvet armchair in the Atherton Club’s equestrian lounge, I offered a sympathetic murmur.

My job, my unofficial, unpaid, yet highly compensated job, was to be Cameron’s best friend.

Her sidekick.

Her shadow, draped in last season’s Balenciaga that she’d tossed my way.

She swirled the sparkling water in her crystal glass, her eyes scanning the immaculately dressed crowd.

“That one,” she said, her chin tilting imperceptibly toward a corner of the room.

Nathaniel Price.

Of course.

The designated Campus King of Westerfield University.

Golden hair, easy smile, a jawline that could cut glass.

He was the kind of handsome that felt both aspirational and deeply annoying.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” Cameron mused.

“Aesthetically pleasing,” I conceded, which was my way of saying ‘yes’ without sounding like a sycophant.

“But my father would never approve. The Prices are new money. Tacky.”

She dismissed a potential multi-generational dynasty with a wave of her hand.

“So, here’s the thing,” she leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of a new game.

“I can’t have him. But the thought of someone else having him… it’s unbearable.”

I waited. I knew the cadence of her thoughts.

“You should go after him.”

There it was.

The world tilted slightly.

“Me?”

“Yes, you, silly. My beautiful Vera. He’s all yours. A gift.”

A gift.

Like a designer handbag she’d grown tired of.

I felt a cold knot tighten in my stomach.

How could I explain to my best friend, my benefactor, the girl whose family name was a synonym for power, that I couldn’t accept her generous ‘gift’?

How could I tell her that just last night, I was in her brother’s bed?

That my legs still felt weak from the way Caden Harrington had looked at me, touched me, owned me.

That I was hopelessly, secretly, and catastrophically in love with the one man I was forbidden to even think about.

§02

The memory of last night was a brand against my skin.

Caden’s penthouse, all sharp lines and cold glass, overlooking a city that glittered like scattered diamonds.

His world.

He never spoke much.

His control was absolute, communicated through the slight arch of an eyebrow, the low timbre of his voice, the way his fingers would trace the line of my spine, sending shivers through my entire body.

He was four years older, already the CEO of the Harrington Group, a predator in a bespoke suit.

And I was… me.

Vera Keating.

Scholarship student.

Cameron’s plus-one.

A ghost haunting the edges of their gilded reality.

Later that night, back in my sparse dorm room that felt a universe away from his penthouse, my phone buzzed.

A video call request.

From him.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I accepted.

His face filled the screen, impossibly handsome even through the pixelated connection.

He was in his home office, the collar of his white shirt unbuttoned.

He just watched me for a moment, his gaze intense, stripping away all my carefully constructed defenses.

“You were quiet today,” he said. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the phone.

“Just thinking,” I lied.

“About?”

I decided to play the game. The one I always played to test the limits, to see if I could make him flinch, to prove to myself that this was all just a transaction.

“About how much I want a Birkin bag,” I said, forcing a playful pout. “The Himalayan crocodile one. A few hundred thousand, I think. A girl can dream, right?”

I was trying to sound like the gold digger he probably thought I was.

It was a desperate, self-sabotaging act.

He didn’t even blink.

His eyes held mine, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.

He reached for his own phone, out of frame.

A second later, a notification popped up on my screen.

A bank transfer confirmation.

For a sum that made my vision swim.

Then he looked back at me, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

His voice was dangerously soft.

“Dream bigger, Vera.”

§03

Dream bigger.

The words echoed in my head for the next twenty-four hours.

They weren’t a comfort.

They were a threat.

They were proof that I was just another acquisition, another problem that could be solved with a wire transfer.

It was exactly what I wanted, wasn’t it?

To be pushed away. To be seen as nothing more than a parasite.

It would make walking away easier.

So I pushed harder.

I let a day pass, a day filled with Cameron’s excited texts about my ‘mission’ to seduce Nate Price, which I ignored.

Then, I sent Caden a text.

*I was thinking about what you said.*

The three dots indicating he was typing appeared almost instantly.

But I was faster.

*I want a house. In The Belvedere Estates.*

I typed it out, my fingers trembling. The Belvedere Estates was where old money went to die in obscene luxury. We were talking tens of millions.

This had to be it. The final straw. The request so audacious, so blatantly greedy, that he would finally see me for what I was pretending to be and cut me loose.

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