2. Ginni

"What is everyone working on?"Daniel Clifford's dark eyes sweep around the newspaper breakroom, his pen tapping against the table.

"Keeping this place running." Elysa Tremaine tosses her raven hair over her shoulder, batting her lashes at her boss.

He shakes his head at his sassy receptionist, though a smile twitches on his lips. He's a good boss. As a freelance journalist, I've spent time at a lot of different newspapers around the country. I never stay in one place for long, preferring to travel from place to place to experience everything life and journalism has to offer. I guess that"s what happens when you grow up in foster care with no roots.

Daniel is one of the better bosses I've come across. He can be a stickler, but he always does right by his team and never complains when they give him crap. It says a lot about his character.

Elysa's best friend, Leia Bayliss, hides a smile behind a coffee cup. "I"m driving up to the Granite Hills fire," she says, her voice soft. "Chief says it"s bigger."

A hush falls over the newspaper staff, everyone"s thoughts on the wildfire raging not far away. Half of the Silver Spoon Falls Fire Department is helping battle the blaze.

"I've got the Falcons game tonight," Ezra Wells, the sports reporter, mutters after a moment.

"Which they're going to win," Leia quickly adds. Her husband plays for the team.

"What about you, Ginni? Is there anything you want to tackle?" Daniel cuts his eyes in my direction.

I actually came to town specifically to write a story, but I haven't shared the details with anyone yet. I've been keeping it under wraps, hoping to smooth my way and learn the lay of the land before I started picking at threads.

But I've been here for several weeks now, and I'm dying to get to work. If this is my chance to net an assist from the team here, I'm jumping at it.

"Actually," I say, my heart hammering against my ribcage, "I'm already working on a story."

"What's the story?"

"It's about the billionaires in town," I say as casually as possible, striving to keep my voice level. I know everyone here considers me a team member of sorts, but I'm still the new girl. The billionaires in this town are their friends, family, and neighbors. They're protective.

"What kind of story?" Leia asks, her eyes automatically narrowing. She's connected to quite a few of the billionaires in Silver Spoon Falls.

"Nothing bad," I promise, fidgeting with my fingers under the table—a nervous habit that refuses to die. "This town has almost as many billionaires as NYC or Los Angeles. I'd love to know what draws them to Silver Spoon Falls and how so many of their businesses become so successful here."

From everything I've been able to tell, it's not through cheating the system. I've poured over records, and most of the men here are legitimate. But something about this town… Well, I don't understand it, and it's driving me crazy.

Leia nods at my explanation, relaxing slightly. "That's just Silver Spoon Falls," she says as if that explains everything. But it doesn't. Not to me. I have questions. So many questions.

An hour later,my phone dings with an incoming text. I don't recognize the number, but I hit the notification to open it.

UNKNOWN

If you want to talk to a billionaire, I can help.

Me

Who is this?

UNKOWN

Consider me your Fairy Godmother. Are you busy tonight?

I briefly consider saying yes, but I'm pretty sure cuddling up in bed and watching Love is Blind doesn't actually constitute plans.

Me

No...

UNKNOWN

Good. Be at 5515 Broadway Street at 8 pm for your date.

Me

Date? ! I didn't agree to a date! I don't want a date!

Whoever is texting me has lost their mind. I don't date! I've never dated. I'm a twenty-four-year-old virgin hurtling toward cat-lady status at the speed of light. I have more important things to do. Like my job. And watch TV. And be allergic to men and dating.

Okay, I'm probably not allergic, but I might as well be. The thought of dating makes me want to pass out and throw up. That's basically the same thing as an allergy, right? Right.

Who the heck is texting me? How do they know about my story?

UNKNOWN

You want this one. Your date is a billionaire.

Well… crap. My Fairy Godmother may just be an evil genius.

"What did I get myself into?"I groan, pulling up in front of the cozy building in downtown Silver Spoon Falls a few minutes after eight. I'm running late… mostly because I considered chickening out. And because I changed my outfit five different times.

What do you wear to a fake blind date with a billionaire? I have no idea. Google wasn't any help, either. It kept suggesting dirty romance novels to me. I looked at one. She ended up tied to his bed.

By the time I finished reading that scene, I was even later. And I still didn't know what to wear. I settled for the only thing in my closet that looked remotely like it might pass as presentable to a billionaire—a simple black dress that makes me look like I have an hourglass figure even though I definitely don't. I have a shape—round. It's a shape. But the dress looks gorgeous on me.

I quickly apply a fresh coat of lip gloss, try to tame my unruly hair into something resembling elegance, and then climb from the car, heading toward the doors of Palette and Vino. I briefly consider hiding a recorder in my bra but figure that's probably overkill. I need to charm the pants off this man—not literally.

"Definitely not literally," I squeak, my mind flitting back to that darn book.

As soon as I step inside the art studio, the scent of paint assails me. It's strong but not unpleasant. Easels with small canvases are set up in pairs around the large room, with wine glasses and bottles of wine chilling on small tables between them. There are couples seated in front of most of the easels, chatting back and forth. Soft music plays in the background, setting the mood.

"Ginerva Valentine?" a blonde at the front desk chirps, beaming at me.

"That's me." I swallow, smiling at her. "Um, Ginni. You can call me Ginni."

"We were worried you weren't going to make it," she says, circling around the desk toward me. "Your partner is here. Let's get you back to your seat."

My heart slams against my ribcage, a fresh wave of anxiety churning through me as I follow behind her through the maze of tables, trying not to freak out.

I can do this. It's not a date. It's a job. Just a job.

I've almost managed to convince myself until the blonde stops and steps to the side. "Mr. Midnight, your date is here."

My gaze lands on my date, and every freaking thought in my head disappears. All I can think is that his name suits him. He was made for the night. Locks of jet black hair fall over his forehead, setting off startling midnight blue eyes. His teeth sink into his full bottom lip, making me want to bite it myself. Not even his full beard hides his razor-sharp jawline.

Even seated, he towers over everyone else in the room. Every time he breathes, the muscles in his upper body flex and ripple. Tattoos run up the lengths of his corded forearms, the ink vivid against his tanned skin.

My stomach flutters as his eyes tangle with mine. A rumbling growl vibrates in his chest as he pushes himself to his feet. The floor shakes as he stomps toward me, staring at me as if he intends to gobble me up.

Lord have mercy. Maybe I do want this date to end like that book—with me tied to this billionaire's bed.

"My assistant is a fucking genius." His voice is a delicious rumble of sound, hitting me right in the womb. "You're fucking stunning."

"My Fairy Godmother didn't do too bad, either," I whisper, heat blooming in my cheeks from his compliment. I crane my head back to look up at him. "Hi."

"What's your name, Fate?"

"Ginerva Valentine." I lick my lips. "Everyone calls me Ginni."

"Ginni Valentine," he repeats, wrapping his strong hand around mine and lifting it to his lips. I expect him to kiss the back of it, but he doesn't. He flips it over, leaning down to brush his lips over the pulse fluttering wildly at my wrist. The tip of his tongue touches my skin, and I hear his soft groan.

Did he just lick me?

"Tastes as fucking good as she smells," he whispers, clearly talking to himself.

Oh my goodness. He did just lick me. My core clenches. Hard.

He straightens up, his eyes tangling with mine again. "I'm Sterling Midnight," he murmurs, not releasing my hand. The heat in his gaze is utterly captivating. No one has ever looked at me like they never want to stop looking at me before now. But this man is. It's the single most erotic thing I've ever experienced.

For a long moment, we just stand there, staring at each other. I'm almost positive he can hear my heart pounding–it's so loud.

"Welcome to First Date Paint and Sip!" the blonde announces from the front of the room. I didn't even notice she'd walked away.

Everyone else in the room claps and cheers.

"Fuck," Sterling growls, cutting his eyes in her direction as if only just remembering that we're in a room full of strangers and not alone. He places his hand on the small of my back, steering me toward our designated area. "Get comfortable, Fate. I'll pour you some wine."

"Thank you," I murmur politely, allowing him to help me slide onto the stool. He squeezes my waist, and I have to battle back a whimper as electric shocks rip through me.

I try to focus on what our hostess says, but I only catch every third or fourth word. Apparently, we're painting each other tonight as a way to get to know one another.

The prospect is horrifying.

I think Sterling notices my horror because he chuckles when he sets my wine down in front of me.

"Have you ever painted before, Ginni?"

"No," I whisper, staring at him with wide eyes. "This is going to be a disaster, Sterling." I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. Ordinarily, I'd just wing it and hope for the best. But I don't actually want to insult this man, and I'm about to turn his beautiful face into my best representation of a kindergartener's art project. "I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do to you."

His lazy smirk has my stomach turning flips. "Are you going to paint me like a French girl, Fate?"

"Worse. I'm going to paint you like I'm a kindergartener hopped up on sugar."

He throws his head back, his deep laugh rolling over me. "Fuck. You're cute as hell."

"You say that now," I mumble. "Just wait until you see what I do to this painting of you."

His hand brushes my arm as he smirks. "Do your worst to me, baby. I can take it."

Oh. Wow. That tingled in spots I didn't know it could tingle.

Sterling circles around to his seat and settles down.

I take a breath and try to focus on the instructions the blonde gives about how to paint, but nothing she says makes any sense to me, so I decide to just wing it.

"Tell me about you, Fate."

I don't know why he keeps calling me that, but I kind of like it—the thought that he thinks I'm inevitable. "I just moved to Silver Spoon Falls a few weeks ago," I say.

"That explains it, then."

"Explains what?"

"Why I haven't seen you around. I'd definitely have remembered you."

My stomach flutters again. He's very charming, but not in a gross way. I like his brand of charm.

"What about you?" I ask, trying to keep the spotlight off of me as much as possible. I don't want to lie to him, but I'm also not entirely sure now is the time to spring on him that I'm on this date under false pretenses. It seems... wrong now that I've met him.

"I split my time between Silver Spoon Falls and Midnight Falls," he says, already hard at work on his painting. I'm still trying to figure out how to mix colors.

"Isn't Midnight Falls the Halloween town?"

"That's the one." He chuckles. "My family owns the retreat over there."

I blink, pausing in the act of squirting black paint onto my canvas. "The town was named after your family."

"Yeah," he says softly, no hint of arrogance in his voice. "Or we named the town. I don't think anyone fucking knows which it is at this point."

My Fairy Godmother really is a Fairy Godmother. She hooked me up with the penultimate billionaire. The Midnight family has been in Texas for generations. Their company, Midnight Industries, owns the largest chain of haunted houses, ghost tours, and costume companies in the United States.

"So, what you're saying is Halloween is your favorite," I tease.

He meets my gaze over the top of his canvas, heat burning in his eyes. "It was. But meeting a Valentine might have just changed my mind."

Oh. My. Goodness.

Sterling Midnight is on a mission to ruin my panties. And dammit, I think he's going to succeed.