New York Billionaires Series

But the cards he’s displaying aren’t good.

“Wait a minute, though.” Victor leans over and inspects the mismatch of cards. It’s almost a flush, but it consists of both spades and clubs. “That’s not a flush. The suits are mixed up.”

Anthony lifts up his cards, eyes narrowing. “Well, fuck. I could have sworn those two were the same.”

“Shit,” Carter says. “Seems like you’re our love expert after all.”

“Anthony ‘the Matchmaker’ Winter,” Victor adds. “It has a nice ring to it.”

Anthony runs a hand over his face, pushing back from the chair. “I need another drink. And Tristan, I’m blaming this entire thing on you.”

“On me?”

“A ten-million-dollar apartment, and you have lighting dim enough to make a man lose at poker.” He stops by the bar-cart I keep in the corner, pouring himself another brandy. “A matchmaking company. Christ.”

“See it as an opportunity!” Carter calls. “You can use it to find love!”

“One more word out of you, and you’re out of this company,” Anthony responds.

I reach for the cards on the table and start to shuffle. “Do we go back to money?”

“There’s nothing better,” Victor agrees.

The sound of my phone cuts through the room, drowning out the low music from my speaker system. I push back from the table. “One moment.”

The familiar number sends a thrill through me. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Freddie says. “I’m sorry to call you this late. I know you said you had plans for the night.”

“Not a problem at all. What’s happened?”

Her voice turns apologetic. “Well, you know how you made that joke about the heater?”

My mind sorts through our previous conversations, the jokes and jabs and flirtation. The joke about fixing her heater. It had been an excuse tossed out between us, testing the waters.

“I remember,” I say.

“Well, it’s actually broken.”

The snow swirls outside the windows, draping the street in a heavy white blanket. “It’s freezing tonight.”

“Yes, the heater chose the worst possible moment. The super’s not working tonight, and I can’t find an electronics store that might sell a space heater open this late.”

“Your apartment must be an icebox, Freddie.”

“It’s not warm, no,” she says with a small chuckle. “That’s why I’m calling. Do you happen to have a space heater I could borrow? Just for a few days.”

I glance over my shoulder at the three men I work with. They’re at the poker table, drinking and talking and pretending like they’re not listening to every word I say.

“I don’t, but I have something better. A warm apartment.”

“Tristan, I couldn’t ask-”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Come to mine. We’ll fix your heater tomorrow.”Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

“Absolutely. Pack a bag and get here as soon as you can.”

She breathes a sigh of relief that makes me feel ten feet tall. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You will.”

Anthony and Carter give theatrical groans as soon as I hang up.

“Well, boys,” Victor says. “I guess this means we’re being kicked out.”

Carter shakes his head. “He has to make the most of his kidless night. I suppose we should just be happy we got worked into the rotation.”

“Fuck you guys.”

Anthony shakes his head, but there’s no real resentment in his eyes. If anything, he looks pleased. “Who is she?”

The answer to that is more complicated than I care to share. Someone I work with. A trainee, technically. She’s eight years younger than me.

And she’s the best thing that’s happened to me in years.

“A friend,” I respond. “She lives close, and her heater just broke.”

“A friend,” Carter drawls, draining the last of his glass. “Right, well, have fun with your friend.”

“Don’t be jealous,” I tell him.

He gives me a wolfish grin right back. “I’m not. Anthony might be, though.”

“Why on earth would I be jealous?” he asks, leading the trio to my hallway.

“Because you’re about to enter the world of elite dating as a single man. The ladies will be on you like vultures.”

“Just when I’d managed to forget about it,” Anthony says, “you bring it right back up again.”

“I’d apologize, but, you know…”

“You’re not actually sorry?”

The doors close behind them and then they’re gone, without any genuine complaints about being kicked out. I wait a few minutes before I head into the lobby to wait for her. When she arrives, her giant coat is wrapped tight to protect her from the chill, snowflakes dusting her dark hair like the freckles on her cheeks.

They’re rosy from the cold wind.

I reach out and take the bag she’s carrying. “Hey.”