My Poor Boyfriend Was a Billionaire, and His Best Friend Wants Me

My manager killed the register at 11:03 p.m.

"Go home, Maya. I'm not paying overtime because you forgot how clocks work."

"I clocked out three minutes ago." I untied my apron and reached for my coat.

A paper bag sat on top of it. Ethan's handwriting covered the receipt taped to the front.

Happy twenty-first. I know it isn't much. Don't look at the price.

Inside was a silver chain with a tiny glass sparrow. Cheap, delicate, and exactly the sort of thing Ethan would spend money he didn't have to buy.

My phone rang before I could fasten the clasp.

"Tell me you opened it," he said.

"You worked four overnight shifts last week."

"And I'll work four more." His laugh sounded tired. "You only turn twenty-one once."

I touched the pendant. "Where are you?"

"Rail yard. Twelve-hour shift."

Again. He had been taking every job he could find since we moved into the walk-up on Oak Street. Freight depot, lumberyard, demolition cleanup—anything paid in cash.

"I'm sorry I can't take you out," he said. "Tomorrow. I promise."

"Tomorrow is fine. Keep your hands clear of the machinery."

"Put the necklace on for me."

"I already did."

A pause. Then, softly, "I love you, Maya."

"I love you too."

At midnight, I started my second shift at Club Vesper.

The private lounge was all dark wood, velvet curtains, and men who never checked a price before ordering. I had been there less than ten minutes when the floor manager shoved a silver bucket and a bottle of Dom Pérignon into my hands.

"Booth Four. Six-thousand-dollar reserve. Pour, smile, leave."

I pushed through the curtain.

"Christian's buying the next round," a man shouted.

"Not a chance," someone else said. "Julian won the bet."

The voice stopped me cold.

Ethan sat in the corner of the booth.

No gray hoodie. No work boots. He wore a charcoal suit cut close to his shoulders, and a diamond watch flashed at his wrist. His hair had been styled back from his face. He looked cleaner, older, and entirely at home.

A woman in an emerald dress sat across his lap.

"Julian," she said, tugging him closer by the collar, "tell Christian the Aston is staying with us."

Julian? She called my boyfriend Ethan by a stange name.

He kissed her while the table cheered.

I tightened my grip on the champagne bottle. The sparrow pendant rested against my throat, suddenly too heavy to be glass.

"Happy birthday, future wife," he said when he finally drew back.

The woman smiled. "You vanished for half the week. This party is the least you owe me."

"Leave him alone, Chloe," the blond man opposite them said. "He had a bet to finish."

Chloe. The fiancée.

The blond man—Christian—lifted his glass. "Well? Did your mystery girl buy the broke-boy routine?"

Julian smiled with Ethan's mouth.

"Completely. Six months in a freezing apartment, bargain groceries, secondhand clothes. She told me she loved me this morning."

Laughter broke around the table.

"And that wins you my Aston Martin," Christian said.

"You should have seen her face when I gave her a thirty-dollar necklace," Julian went on. "She cried. I could've handed her a subway token and called it jewelry."

My hand went to the sparrow.

Chloe wrinkled her nose. "You didn't actually sleep in that apartment, did you?"

"Only when I had to. My driver waited around the corner."

Someone noticed me standing beside the table. "Champagne."

I moved because waitresses who froze got fired.

Julian held out his glass without looking up. "Top it off."

I poured. The bottle was cold enough to hurt my fingers.

Christian was still laughing. "To Julian Sterling—the only man cheap enough to fake poverty for a car."

The name landed harder than the lie.

Julian Sterling. Sterling Logistics. The family whose name was stamped across half the freight containers in the harbor.

Not Ethan Cole, temporary dockworker.

Julian turned his wrist. His gaze followed the stream of champagne up the bottle, over my black uniform.

Then I set the bottle in the bucket, bowed, and said, "Happy birthday to the happy couple."

I walked out before he could notice me.