This Billionaire's Date: This Billionaire, #27

By Rachel Foster

Dan Fisher is a successful business man with his business partner and best friend Ty Mott. One place he isn't successful in is his personal life and he finds himself relying on online dating. However, it's not long before he realizes that the reason he's never been able to keep a relationship is because he's always had a crush on Ty's sister, Mariah.Mariah and her sister Brooklyn have recently acquired their parent's dental shop after they wanted to retire. Mariah finds herself jealous of Brooklyn who begins dating Dan's brother Josh. Desperate to be with Dan, everything seems to be pushing them away from each other.Will they be able to figure out a way to be together or will they decide it's too much to make it work?

• Language: English
• Publisher: 3rd Publishing
• Release date: Mar 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215660461

Book preview

This Billionaire's Date

Rachel Foster

Copyright © 2018 by Rachel Foster

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Epilogue

1

D

an

Downtown San Antonio was muted behind me, the expansive window allowing morning light to filter over my shoulders and illuminate the organized piles of paper on my desk. Sleek, modern designs decorated the office in a monochromatic scheme of cream white offset by onyx black. A set of shelves and cabinets flanked my left side, hosting all sorts of books from business to ancient cultures. Artifacts collected over the years stood between the leather-bound novels at the top with tiny lights emblazoning each one.

A metallic lamp sat to the left of my elbow with a cup of pens and pencils near it, a calendar set off to the right side to make room for the work I was doing. Portfolios—and more than we had ever received in the past. Business was booming in the fashion and retail industry with designers attempting to join our ranks in an effort to make it in the world. I didn’t blame them. We were one of the leaders in the clothing sector with over seventy brands housed under our roof along with our very own retail chain that scattered throughout the United States. There was talk of expanding overseas. I wanted very much to spread out to every corner of the known universe, as wide a net as I could possibly cast.

The knock at the door hardly interrupted my thoughts. I lifted a hand to invite the person inside, listening to the soft hiss of the glass door shutting out the gentle chaotic noise of the offices just on the other side.

Morning.

I glanced up at Ty, tight curls of bark brown trimmed short and shaved at the sides in a stylish fade that granted him an elegant and professional appearance. His light green eyes were a contrast to his hair, light shimmering in the faded tides of the ocean as he observed me. Sharp features were chiseled and a mole sat near his left ear, one of the only indicating markers that separated him from his triplet siblings. He wore a gray suit, designed by one of our own, the slim fit accentuating his swimmer’s build.

I smiled in greeting and stood up. To what do I owe the honor?

Do you want to go out and do something tomorrow night?

So, it’s not business. I didn’t mean to sound down about it, but I wasn’t anticipating making plans with my best friend and co-owner—not that I didn’t want to. I sighed. That sounds like fun, but I have a date tomorrow night.

He snorted and shook his head. Man, when are you going to realize that maybe online dating isn’t the best idea for you?

When you realize you’re being a jerk.

He raised his brown brows. "Ohhh, good one."

I winked playfully. I can’t cancel. We’re going to a nice restaurant.

Which one?

"We’re going to Ultra."

He hummed curiously, approaching the sleek desk and running his fingers over the cream white surface while focusing on the documents occupying the space near his fingers. So, she’s important, huh?

I mean, they’re all important at some point.

But they never work out.

I shrugged, unable to argue with that simple fact. Ty was right. Online dating hadn’t ever worked out for me in the past, yet I kept returning to it repeatedly in hopes that it would work. One of them had to work at some point. I knew the woman who was right for me was out there somewhere. How else was I supposed to find her if I didn’t try the internet?

I cleared my throat and adjusted my cherry red tie. The modern age is full of wonders. This website is supposed to be the best.

Is that based on peer-reviewed sources?

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. Why? Are you getting tired of Stephanie?

He cackled. Hardly. I would never leave her. She’s the one for me.

I forced a smile. My best friend had been happily married for years now, hooked to the woman of his dreams who worked as a nurse. Their schedules often opposed each other and yet they managed to form a beautiful connection full of life and spirit. I didn’t get how he did it.

Do me a favor, Ty said, lifting his hand to his tie and playing with the knot. Don’t plan one of your date failures for Saturday. Let’s go out and do something. Just the guys.

I rolled my eyes. Alright, fine.

That’s what I like to hear.

My reluctant acceptance? That sounds healthy.

The Grinch-like smile that spread across his lips conveyed a teasing energy that could only exist between such close friends. Healthier than failed web dates.

Some of those dates are nice.

They just like you for your money.

I shrugged out of my blazer, sighing as I tossed it over the back of my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. Yeah, that’s a problem.

Well, don’t get too down about it.

I’ll be fine. Listen, we have a ton of designer applications. Can you take half?

He nodded, extending his hands for me to fill with several folders. He gave me a mock salute before sauntering from the office, a brief cacophony of sound invading the space before disappearing with the hiss of the glass door.

I pursed my lips and stared at the folders on my desk. Dating would work out at some point. I just had to keep trying.

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After a long day of sorting portfolios, I hopped into my black Honda Ridgeline and headed for the golf course. Fading daylight cast orange streaks over the tar ahead of my truck, inviting me to follow it toward the familiar course just outside of the downtown area. Skyscrapers were traded out for lush green scenery with suburban neighborhoods dotting the areas in between. Soon, the golf course came into view, the sign already spattered with white light from four lamps.

I parked in my usual space and grabbed my bag of clubs from the back. As I slung them over my shoulder, I took a deep breath, inhaling the warm air that would quickly cool down as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. Small groups of people meandered through the lot toward the entrance with plenty more spilling from the doors. It was busy for a Thursday night.

I wandered inside after a couple exited, wrinkling my nose at the cheap cologne that the guy was wearing.

Somebody is trying too hard, I thought with a chuckle.

After setting my bag down near the counter, I reached for my card. The people here knew me. It was one of my usual haunts for post-work stress or whenever a girl didn’t exactly pan out. Which was often. So often that the people here knew me by name, what my favorite sandwich was, and that I would pay extra for them to stay open an hour longer.

The man behind the counter smile. Hi, Mr. Fisher. Who’s your partner tonight?

I paused, my credit card in the hand I had perched on the counter. Partner?

Marcus, his name tag said, pointed to a sign that sat near the doors. In my attempt to escape work and bad dating, I hadn’t even noticed it. Written in script on the board in red chalk was a phrase I detested the most aside from people misusing the word regardless.

Couples Night.

I cringed and turned back to Marcus. You’ve got to be kidding me.

Admission is half off for couples. Do you have a partner this evening?

I shook my head as I slid my card back into my wallet. Never mind, Marcus. I’ll come back another night.

Alright, Mr. Fisher. Have a wonderful night.

I mumbled the same in return as I collected my club bag and marched back to the parking lot. I swept past a couple who were peering at each other with starry eyes, the sight of it making me want to groan loudly. I stifled the reaction, lodged myself into my truck, and sat staring at the darkening parking lot. Lamps flickered on one by one, yellowish white beams bathing the tar with synthetic light.

Frustration bubbled in my gut. Couldn’t a guy get away from the world for two seconds without having to stare at a happy couple? I had been alone for so long that it made me bitter, the taste acrid on my tongue as if I had been sucking on the end of a metal pen. Anger boiled in my gut, replacing the frustration with animosity at the fact that I was stuck single—still.

I slapped the steering wheel. The silence of the cab was deafening, interrupted every few minutes by muffled conversation from passersby. Seething with rotten jealousy at all the hand-holding that was happening, I started up the truck and left the lot, peeling out onto the main road that would take me to my house.

I was angry that I couldn’t play and even more irate about the fact that it was because I wasn’t paired with someone. Didn’t businesses hold events for single people? I rolled my eyes at the sickening idea of a speed-dating convention I had attended the previous year. It was even worse than online dating, the three minutes allotted to me barely giving me enough time to speak of my accomplishments and preferences.

Most women I met at that convention told me they were looking for someone more humble, whatever the hell that meant. The resentment from that time trickled to the surface to join the disappointment of not being able to golf. As I approached the neighborhood streets leading to my three-story home nestled at the end of a lavish cul-de-sac, the resentment exhausted me, robbing me of the ability to do anything once I let myself inside and set the alarm.

The house was quiet, but the remaining scent of lemon pine lingered on the air, reminding me that my Thursday cleaning staff had done a fine job. I could expect fresh pajamas sitting on my bed and the shower curtain tugged back in preparation for my nightly wash. I was pretty much set here, a billionaire with enough luxury to spare for a woman so long as she wanted to be spoiled.

And as much as I was eager to do that for the right woman, I didn’t want that to be the basis of my relationship with someone. I wanted passion, fire, and the dopamine hits. I wanted eye-gazing, cool nights wrapped up in a warm body, and the intimate whispers that came after a hearty dinner and a few glasses of wine.

That’s all I wanted. Why the hell was it so hard to find?

2

M

ariah

"Thanks for coming to Sunny Smiles, I said to the little girl in front of the counter. I extended a bag of treats complete with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a coloring booklet. The girl beamed and her mother smiled with approval. I grinned as I added, And don’t forget to floss, Miss May!"

Yes, ma’am!

The girl and her mother left the waiting area, pushing out into the bright Texas sun. I sighed as I relaxed in my office chair and glanced at the empty reception desk to my left. Brooklyn was on her mandatory break. I had a client stay about twenty minutes through lunch—the little girl—because a cavity threatened to take over one of her teeth. I wanted to handle it before it became a serious issue later.

Cars busily hurried past the parking lot just outside the double glass doors. A pair of headlights flashed through the windows, temporarily inspiring me to close my eyes. I felt the heat of the sun through the air conditioning, the index rising the closer we got to the early parts of the afternoon. Though Brooklyn would be back in thirty minutes to relieve me, I didn’t feel like leaving the cool sanctuary of the waiting room.

Gray couches lined the walls, the upholstery made of plastic for easier disinfecting. A set of toys were scattered on the coffee table, and magazines spilled from one of the displays. The rest of the waiting room held colorful blocks the size of small children, along with a rocking horse, and a separate waiting area that dipped to the right where adults could watch the news or sip complimentary coffee.

I stood up and stretched, the satisfying pop in my shoulders causing me to groan. Leaning over May’s mouth for an hour caused a cramp to grow in the usual place, reminding me that I needed to get a massage soon so that, too, didn’t become a long-term issue.

Kids and their candy, I thought with a small smile as I rounded the desk to clean up the waiting area. What can you do? Kids and candy go together like coffee and donuts.

My phone buzzed from the desk drawer. After cleaning up the area and sanitizing my hands, I returned to the desk and sank into the chair, listening to the wheeze of air escape the cushion as it conformed to my body. I plucked my phone from the drawer and unlocked it as I reached for a bag of pretzels with my other hand.

I munched on pretzels as I checked messages. My group chat with my triplet siblings had a few messages. Ty wanted to know if we were busy tonight.

We could go play mini golf or something, he wrote. I could show Brooklyn up again.

I rolled my eyes and then typed, I don’t think she’ll like that.

I’ll take her silence as a challenge.

You know she’ll kick your ass, Ty.

He sent a few laughing emojis and added, Wouldn’t be the first or last time.

Is Stephanie working tonight?

Maybe. Why?

I laughed. You never ask to hang when your wife isn’t busy.

Well, you know I love my wife.

You sure do. It was nearly gross how dedicated Ty was to his spouse, but it was also inspiring. I had never met a couple so madly in love. Ty and Stephanie certainly fit the bill. I focused on my phone again, munching idly on a pretzel as I swiped slowly. Makes me sick.

You’re just jealous.

Maybe.

He sent an animated gif of a guy rolling his eyes. I laughed as three dots bounced beneath the gif, indicating that he was typing. When the dots stopped bouncing, a new message appeared. Steph is covering someone’s nights this weekend at the hospital, and Dan is busy, too. Don’t make me beg.

I tagged my sister and wrote, Brooklyn, should we make him beg?

She’s still not answering, Ty messaged. I still take that as a challenge.

We’re making him beg, my sister replied with a ton of clown emojis. I shook my head as I giggled. And we’re making it count.

Pretty please with sugar on top, Ty wrote.

I nodded, feeling satisfied. That works for me. Let’s do mini golf.

Alright, I’m in, Brooklyn said.

That didn’t take much begging, Ty teased.

I chuckled. We’ll make you pay for it later.

Literally! Brooklyn chimed in. Also, I’ll be back to the lobby soon. Traffic is wild right now.

That’s San Antonio for you.

Ty sent a few happy face emojis and wrote, I’m booking our mini golf now. You guys can pay me later.

I snorted. As if. I smiled as I set my phone back in the drawer, waiting for my sister to return. Mini golf was a good idea. It had been a long week with plenty of clients coming in with mouths full of all sorts of issues. Root canals, pulls, and cracked teeth were among the most popular, some of which couldn’t be helped. No amount of great dental hygiene could prevent cracked teeth if you fell hard enough.

I knew that too personally, my tongue mindlessly washing over the cuspid I had replaced just last year. No one could tell it was fake—and that was the point. And it was all thanks to my talented sister. Because of her, I didn’t feel embarrassed to smile. I kept the story mostly to myself unless a client was looking for dental work to fix or replace teeth. Then, I showed mine off, telling them about how my sister was a master of her craft. It sold them every time.

Reclining, I sighed, listening to more air wheeze from the cushion. I rocked idly, the hinges squeaking softly as I listened to the silence around me. After my break, I would have three more clients. I sat up, shrugged my shoulders, and gathered my bag, preparing to switch out with Brooklyn for my late lunch.

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Ty, Brooklyn, and I stood in the lobby of Goofy Golf Central, standing amid a growing crowd of enthusiastic kids with their families. The arcade section of the lobby was teeming with children and teenagers alike who were shouting, laughing, and generally enjoying themselves. I smiled when I noticed a family of four who routinely came in for dental work. After a quick wave, I turned back to my siblings.

We gathered our things, the person behind the counter pausing for a second to blink rapidly. You three are...?

Triplets, Brooklyn replied.

Yeah, we kind of look alike, I joked.

Ty chuckled. "Well, except for some parts of us."

The person behind the counter choked, unsure of how to respond to such a joke from my ridiculous brother. We laughed our way through gathering our clubs and a bucket of balls, taking our haul out to the exit doors leading to the adventure islands expanding just beyond the lobby. The poor clerk still seemed to be stuck in a dazed existence as they stared after us.

I swatted Ty. That’s never funny, you know.

You’re the one who laughed first.

I do that as a courtesy to you, not because you’re hilarious.

Brooklyn guffawed. I don’t know. It’s pretty funny how people react to us.

She had a point. People were often so interested in discovering our differences that I often felt like we became our own little touring side show attraction. Brooklyn and I shared features so similar in nature that it was easy to confuse us. If it weren’t for the dark mole sitting just above the right side of her lip and the shortness of her tight brown curls, we would be truly identical. Ty shared our looks as well, though his sharpened features were of the masculine variety, and he had a mole next to his ear that I would poke whenever he was being annoying.

Brooklyn paused near the first hole and rustled my tight curls that had grown to a monstrosity around my shoulders. When are you going to trim these?

Never, I argued. I want them to be wild. Like a lion.

Or a rat, Ty teased viciously as he lined up his shot.

I shook my head, letting my curls swish around my face. I wear it back at work. That’s what matters, right?

And the color is still natural. Why don’t you go auburn?

Because I don’t want to, I said, then stuck out my tongue.

She sneered playfully, rolled her eyes, and pulled me into a tight hug. Ugh, I’m so jealous of your curves. I have more pudge around my waist than I want.

Mom always called that extra love.

Or extra pie.

The two of us giggled, turning to watch Ty utterly fail to get his ball past the swirling windmill. It wasn’t even twirling that fast. Most of the course was designed for children. If Ty couldn’t do it, well...

Twenty bucks says the next child behind us sinks it immediately, Brooklyn announced.

Will you two shut up? Ty growled. "I’m trying to focus."

I stifled a laugh. When Ty sank the ball, he turned with a smug grin that shifted into a familiar smile as he looked over my shoulder. Oh, hey Josh!

Hey, Mott Family, Josh greeted, a nearly perfect carbon copy of his brother were it not for his height and unbleached auburn brown hair. His eyes were cerulean, oceans hosting a dark ring around the edges. Those were like his brother’s, too. It was strange looking at Josh and being reminded of Dan. And not because of my massive crush on Dan. Not one bit. Dan busy tonight?

Unfortunately, Ty retorted while practicing his swinging arc. One of those online dates is bound to end badly.

Josh shook his head. You know, I keep telling him that.

Brooklyn sighed beside me, the kind of sound that might indicate a woman was deflating into a puddle of goo. I glanced at my sister and her dreamy gaze, the corner of her right mouth quirking into a lazy grin.

I elbowed her. You know, I whispered. You could talk to him.

Why would I do that?

Maybe because he said hi to you and you haven’t said a word in response.

She stammered out an explanation, running her fingers through her hair and extending the tight curls in a failed effort. They bounced right back to her chin. She coughed, shrugged her shoulders, and rolled her eyes for effect. He’s talking to Ty.

Easy for you to slide in and say hello.

No. I pushed her gently, causing her to stumble in Josh’s direction. When Josh and Ty noticed, Brooklyn recovered her stumble by standing up straight and pointing with the end of her club to the hole. It’s my turn.

"Your turn...to lose," Ty teased as he walked past her.

Josh gave my sister a radiant grin, his eyes sparkling as he engaged her in conversation. The two of them were adorable, all anxious smiles and tense motions as they chatted quietly.

Ty sidled up next to me. I looked at him and said, Why is she such a chicken? She’s liked Dan’s brother forever.

Like someone else I know.

Who?

He squinted at me, fighting a knowing grin as he replied, You’ve liked Dan since you were five, I swear.

I don’t know what you’re talking about.

I bet you still have that notebook with his name on the cover.

I rolled my eyes, trying—and failing—to hide a sheepish grin as I crossed my arms over my chest and shrugged. What notebook?

You can play unaware all you want, sis. I know you.

"You don’t know shit."

I bit my lower lip as I watched Josh help Brooklyn with her shot. It was cute to watch them work together, the two of them reduced to chuckles when Brooklyn’s ball bounced off the windmill and skittered off to the right.

I shook my head. Why couldn’t I have something like that with Dan? For all my pushing with my sister, I just couldn’t make myself make the same move.

Funny thing about chickens, I thought. It takes one to know one.

3

D

an

Bill Huff, a long-time client of mine, stepped up to set up his ball at the starting point, the freshly trimmed green grass beneath his wingtips rustling as he shuffled from side to side. The stout man wiggled his hips as he kept checking the flag ahead of