Prose Portfolio SAMPLES

Taken from a modern-day romance novel that is currently in pre-production, Billionaire Boyfriend.

Billionaire Boyfriend, Chapter One - Meet Cute, Part One

“There’s a time and a place to argue, and this isn’t it.”

That was the phrase that turned a quiet Friday night into a dance party. The first few stops were fun, just like the old days, but by the third club Violette was starting to remember that she was thirty-two instead of twenty-two and heels had always been a questionable exercise even ten years ago. She left her friends in the bodies on the dance floor and made her way to the balcony level. From there it didn’t take much to find one of the servers. The younger woman gave her a look - probably because her order gave away her age - but nodded and continued on her rounds.

A quick glance around showed that the balcony wasn’t nearly as popular as the dance floor, and most of the people standing around with drinks and conversation were clustered away from the railing where the music was loudest. Rather than trying to edge her way into a spot where there wasn’t one, Violette headed over to a corner table that was against the rail but shielded a bit from the noise. Though the high end wasn’t blaring in her ears, she could still feel the thud of the bass in her chest. The beat was infectious, and she couldn’t help but sway to the music, even this far away from the bodies on the dance floor. The night out wasn’t all bad, given the givens.

It didn’t take too long for the server to find her, and from the tray she was carrying she delivered a drink and walked off.

Which was strange, because Violette hadn’t paid for her drink ahead of time, and she sure as hell hadn’t ordered whatever this tall, bright blue concoction set down in front of her was.

With a sigh that was more for the wasted time than the inconvenience, Violette headed over to the bar.

A gap opened up in the bodies leaning against the edge trying to get the bartender’s attention. Violette knew she was dressed to draw attention, but didn’t bother leaning against the bar to prop herself up to better advantage. The bartender got paid to come around to all the waiting customers, and she wasn’t so desperate that she couldn’t wait her turn. She set the drink on the bar in front of her.

Someone came up beside her, and she took a moment to glance over.

The man was handsome, clean shaven, with dark hair styled away from his face. He had on a well-fitted shirt that proved he more than knew how to take care of himself. Idly, she wondered what gym he went to, and she started to ask - there were worse questions to try and flirt with a handsome stranger, after all - only to watch as he put a short glass on the bar in front of him and sighed loud enough for her to hear over the music.

That short glass of iced, amber-colored liquid looked a lot like what she’d ordered.

“I think they gave you my drink,” Violette said, almost before she’d decided to say anything.

“Maybe,” the guy said, vaguely, without looking over at her. His eyes were trained on the bartender, as though he could will the man over just by staring hard enough.

“You didn’t order something blue, did you?”

He started to raise his hand, but that question stopped and got him to turn to look at her. He lifted both brows as he took in first her and then the drink in front of her. He was more handsome straight on than he was in profile, especially with the surprised lift of his dark brows. In the lighting of the club it was hard to tell his eye color, but she saw the telltale flick of his eyes down as they took her in.

She lifted the bright blue glass. “This yours?”

“I believe so.”

She slid it over to him. “Which means she brought you my whiskey-soda.”

He watched her. The music was loud, but she was starting to think he was hard of hearing. She pointed at the drink still in front of him. “I think that’s mine,” she said, raising her voice so she could be heard over the music.

When he still didn’t respond, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and turned her attention back to where the bartender was making his way over.

“I’m not used to people with drinks coming up to the bar,” he said, leaning over towards them.

“I wanted a whiskey soda,” Violette said, leaning forward so the bartender could hear.

“Any bottle do?”

“Surprise me,” Violette said with a laugh.

The bartender nodded, flashing the price with both hands, and went to make her drink. He glanced at the man standing beside her with two drinks and gave a little shake of his head. Violette went for her purse.

“I’m sorry,” the man beside her said.

Violette paused, card in hand, and looked up at him. “Go on.”

“I… this…” he gestured at the drinks. “It wouldn’t be the first time that was on purpose.”

“It would with me,” Violette replied.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said as the bartender came back over. “Put that on my tab.”

The bartender looked at the handsome stranger, and nodded. Violette took the drink he handed her, and couldn’t catch what he muttered as he turned on to his next customer.

“You could’ve just given me my drink back,” she said.

“From the bartender’s hands to your lips,” he said. He offered his hand. “I’m Hugo.”

“Violette,” she said, shaking it. “I guess you have a point. Should I buy you a new drink too?”

“Statistically speaking, I’m less likely to need it,” Hugo said, lifting his glass and taking a sip.

“Statistically,” she allowed. “You at least have to tell me what that is.”

“Sex in the driveway.”

“What?”

“Sex in the driveway,” Hugo said, gesturing with it. “I ordered a deep blue sea, but… this’ll do.”

“Both of those are blue drinks?”

Hugo nodded. “Quite.”

“And you can tell the difference?”

“Peach schnapps is hard to miss,” he said.

A burst of noise from behind Violette drew both of their attention, and Violette tried not to grimace at the shrill sounds coming from the women. When Hugo turned to look, the women’s noises turned to high-pitched giggles that cut through the music and straight into her patience. This wasn’t why she’d come up here at all. She glanced past them, looking at her abandoned little corner table. It was still empty. Maybe if she edged away now-

“Why don’t we make them some room?”

“Huh?” Violette asked.

Hugo gestured with his head back towards the tables, picking up both of the drinks in front of him. “We’ve got drinks, let’s stop holding up the bar.”

He started walking before she could answer. Well, Violette thought, there were certainly worse things than drinking with a handsome stranger. From the wistful look on the ladies’ faces, they shared her opinion. “Yeah, excuse me,” she said, heading past them.

She couldn’t help but overhear one of the girls’ snide comment of, “Isn’t she a little old for him?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Violette muttered as she left them behind.

As she made it to where Hugo was waiting at the tucked away little table she’d been propped up against, she noticed he had a sour look on his face, and the shorter of the glasses he’d been carrying was empty. “Is that what I just bought you?” he asked.

“I take it you’re not a fan of whiskey?”

“That wasn’t whiskey, it was paint stripper,” Hugo said. He pushed the glass aside.

Shrugging, Violette took a sip from the glass in her hand. It didn’t taste so very awful to her, but she wasn’t particularly discerning when it came to her alcohol. She’d developed a taste for whiskey long ago, and no sour expression on a handsome face was going to unplug the memory that made her love it. “It’s not so bad.”

Hugo nodded.

“Are you trying to tell me that your sex on the car hood-”

“Sex in the driveway,” he corrected.

“-whatever. Your electric blue boogaloo is a better drink than my whiskey-soda?”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“There’s not a lot of blue food that’s worth eating,” Violette said. “And that looks like a hangover waiting to happen.”

“Only if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Hugo said.

“And you do?”

“It’s Friday night,” he said. “More than enough time to sleep it off before Monday.”

“That just makes it sound like you haven’t even started on the serious drinking.”

“It’s still early,” Hugo said, shrugging.

Violette checked her phone, and laughed. “If you think twelve-forty is early, I have so many questions.”

Hugo smirked at that, and started to answer, but the shrill giggles from near the bar screeched from the table to their left, and Violette winced and put a hand over her ear. A glance was enough to tell her that the little cluster had settled within easy distance and were watching Hugo like hawks. Hugo stiffened, undoubtedly noticing the same thing, and went quiet, twisting the glass of his drink in the wet ring on the table top that it made. He put his elbow on the table, tilting himself so that the three young women were out of his line of sight. “I’m not big on questions,” he said in a voice low enough that she almost couldn’t hear him.

She wanted to ask what he meant by that, intrigued. This was the sort of stuff that happened to other people. Not only did she not do the whole clubbing thing, but when she did, hot guys tended to fall all over themselves for the shrill, bubbly, giggling types that seemed to do this sort of thing for a living. Hugo seemed… disinterested in them.

First time for everything.

“That’s a shame,” Violette said.

Hugo looked up from where he was downright brooding in his drink, both brows lifting in question. “I can’t be the first guy you’ve met at a club who didn’t like questions.”

“Yeah, that- sure. I meant more-” Violette started, but found she wasn’t quite sure how to explain what she meant.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to find the words. The song that was playing dropped in volume, and a chorus of voices from across the balcony shouted, “VIOLETTE!”

Looking up, Violette found that she was being summoned by Soshi, Jane, and Maria, who had propped each other up and were grinning broadly. Their arms were around each other, and Jane, tallest and long ago dubbed second-most-sober, was holding both of them upright. Jane gave an apologetic little shrug and motioned with her head towards the stairs. Violette wondered which of their friends needed to be clocked out of the drinking for the night. She caught the way Hugo’s shoulders hitched as she leaned over to check on her friends.

“Sounds like I’m being summoned,” Violette said. “Thanks for the drink.”

“You haven’t even tou-” he started, only to cut off with a wince as Violette knocked the glass back and drank it all in a single go. “How can you drink that?”

“With my mouth,” Violette said. “It was nice to meet you, Hugo.”

“Nice to meet you too, Violette.”

“And he knows how to pay attention,” she said with a broad grin. She patted the arm he had planted on the table and stepped out away from it. “You have a nice night.”

“Safe trip home,” he replied.

With a nod, Violette scooped her clutch up off the table and headed over to scoop Maria off Jane’s shoulder. Maria’s arm tightened around her like a vice as soon as her weight shifted, and she gave her a hug. “We never should have let you come up here alone! You always have the worst luck with men!”

Jane winced and turned to angle Soshi back toward the stair, but glanced over at the table. “I dunno, Mar, this time he’s at least kinda cute.”

“Kinda cute can still mean sketchy as hell!”

“Ahh, I missed you so,” Violette said, helping Jane to navigate them down the stairs and towards the exit of the club.

Jane led the way, having already set up a RideCall back to Soshi’s, and Violette just had to keep Maria from wandering off until they met their driver. It wasn’t long before they were all safely tucked away and being ferried back to their starting point. Soshi’s place had the best lighting for getting ready and also the most places to crash when they all fell down at the end of the night. Once or twice a month, this was fun to do. Most of the time all that happened was some drinking, some deafening music, and some questionable dance moves that kept Violette up trying to figure out whether they were on-beat or not.

This time, she thought of Hugo.

Billionaire boyfriend - Chapter two, meet-cute, part Two

The weekend evaporated, but not in a way that caused pain or remorse. Saturday wasn’t a hangover, but Violette did sleep later than she normally did, and Sunday was a lost cause to laundry and all the other adulting that she’d missed out on Saturday. If anyone had told her that the only difference between being a kid and being an adult was that failing at chores had visible consequences, child-Violette would’ve laughed in their faces. Now adult-Violette just wished she could go back to worrying about grades and spring formal instead of capitalized interest on student loans and commuting times and whether or not she’d remembered to schedule the payment for her electric bill.

Monday morning she woke and made it through her routine quicker than usual, so she decided to treat herself to breakfast from her favorite coffee shop. The morning train was surprisingly on time, so she made it to the Stone Ground in the sweet spot of the morning, after the earliest birds and before the serious commuters. It was a little oasis in the bustle of Monday, and she gave the barrista a grateful smile as she collected her souffle and found an empty high-top table to wait for her London Fog.

It wasn’t long before the door chime began to cycle at the entry of the serious commuters, and Violette tucked her nose into her ereader and took smallish bites of her souffle. The bodies filled up the space and the sound of talking and shuffling muted the chime of the door every time it opened. That was a small mercy.

Most of the souffle was gone by the time she was a chapter in to the book she was reading, and Violette was starting to think the barrista had forgotten her drink in the crush of orders. Just when she was thinking of heading over to the counter to ask about her order, the delivery barrista called, “Vio!”

“Apparently the Monday gods are being kind,” Violette said, slipping her purse strap back over her shoulder as she slid from her seat and headed over. The barrista handed over her drink and turned to the next customer.

She was halfway to the door, poised to take her first sip when the sharp scent of coffee hit her nose.

With a resigned sigh, she held in the explitive that wanted to pop out of her mouth and turned to look at the line. The commuters standing in an orderly single-file stretched from the counter to the door, noses down and watching their smart phones. None of them had noticed that the line wasn’t moving because someone had edged in beside the current customer at the cash register.

“This isn’t what I ordered,” a familiar voice was saying.

“I’m sorry about that, sir, but you’ll have to-”

“I have a meeting, I can’t just-”

“Hugo?” Violette called before she could stop herself.

Hugo turned, gray eyes narrowed as he looked across the shop at her. As soon as he turned, the barrista went on to the customer he was helping, ignoring the angry, handsome man whose drink was wrong. Thankfully, when Hugo saw her, his expression shifted from anger to surprise. It wasn’t necessarily a good surprise, but he stepped away from the head of the line toward her. “Violette?”

“So despite your questionable taste in alcohol, you know where to get good coffee.”

“I didn’t get my coffee,” Hugo said, glaring at the cup he was holding. “This… this seems to be tea, if I’m reading the labels on the strings correctly.”

It wasn’t possible that this happened twice, but Violette reached over to turn his hand so she could see the writing on the side of his cup, and big bold letters proclaimed that he was holding her London Fog. She checked the side of her cup and couldn’t even make out what was written there, but she turned it to face Hugo and pointed at it.

“Are you sure you’re not arranging this?” he asked, brows drawing together.

“Whiskey’s one thing, but I don’t give up my morning caffeine for anyone,” Violette said.

One of the commuters pushed past them, knocking into Hugo’s arm enough that the drink cup jostled, though he managed to keep from dropping it. The lady who pushed past after was a better shot, and the cup tipped enough to spill steaming tea between them. Violette skipped backwards to keep it off her shoes, but Hugo managed to get it across his left arm. He yelped out a strangled, “Goddamnit!” at the heat.

Having gotten the nuclear strength tea on herself before, Violette didn’t wish that sort of burn on him. A quick glance at the bar was enough to tell her there was no getting help there, so she took him by the elbow and turned the pair of them for the bathrooms.

“What are you-?”

“We need to cool it down,” she said, ignoring his protests.

The bathroom was grungy, lined with local post cards and with tile that didn’t make the right kind of angles, but it had a sink, and Violette steered Hugo to it. She got both their drink cups and set them on the sink, and then reached for his burnt hand. “Do you wear a watch?” she asked, turning on the cold tap.

“Of course.”

“Take it off.”

Hugo stared at her like she’d lost her mind, but Violette pulled his wrist forward to where the water was.

“It’ll get wet.”

“Yeah, don’t,” he said, reaching for his sleeve. He pushed the cuff of his shirt up and undid a very sleek looking watch. Only once the watch was tucked into his pocket did he let Violette guide his hand under the tap.

After a moment, the silence grew, and she needed to say something. “I promise I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“You mean you weren’t trying to get to hold my hand?” Hugo asked.

She looked up, expecting to see a stern expression on his face, but his lips were quirked in a little smile. “I’d just ask,” she said, “less after care on questions.”

“It feels cooled down now,” Hugo said.

“You should probably keep it cool for a while longer.”

“Well, I have a meeting to get to that-” he started to look at his watch and then rolled his eyes and reached for his pocket. He sighed. “That starts in five minutes. I won’t make it in time.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s eight-forty-five.”

“That’s an early meeting.”

“Not if you’re talking with London,” Hugo said.

“I suppose not,” she agreed. “Well. If you’ve got this under control, I better get going if I’m going to make it to work on time. No calls to London, but my boss starts molting if I’m not there by nine-ten.”

“I could give you a ride, if you’d like. To say thank you.”

It was Violette’s turn to give him a skeptical look. She wasn’t accustomed to people from the city offering her gratitude when she was considerate. Hugo wasn’t much of a likely candidate to be the exception that proved the rule, especially as both times they met he’d started off thinking she was trying to hoodwink him some how with an elaborate scheme involving drink swapping. “You could just say thank you,” she countered. “It’s not really a big deal, and my office isn’t too far. I’ll make it.”

“All right,” Hugo said.

Violette had backed herself up to the door, but paused, waiting for him to actually thank her. He didn’t, but he did pick her drink up off the back of the sink and offer it up. “Your ah… London fog, I think?”

“Thanks,” Violette said, taking it. She sniffed the cup, just to make sure it was the sweat scent of her caffeinated ambrosia inside and not the sharp scent of espresso that wafted from his cup.

“I didn’t put anything in it,” Hugo said with a frown.

“I wasn’t worried about that here any more than I was at the bar,” Violette replied. “But thanks for verifying that for me.” She lifted her cup in salute. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an office to open.”

She turned and left, ignoring the way he gingerly unbuttoned his cuff and returned to the tap. He hadn’t said thank you. Maybe he didn’t know how to say thank you. Maybe thank you was not a part of his vocabulary.

Or maybe she was being overbearing again.

The line had thinned, some, by the time she threaded her way through the shop and out the door, and the Monday morning sunshine was bright where it cut through the buildings across the street. The morning air was crisp, not quite ready to be spring but definitely finished with being winter, and she unbuttoned her coat as she started to make her power walk to the office.

Billionaire Boyfriend - Chapter Four, A Lunch Between Friends

“Wait, you ran into hottie from the bar again?” Jane asked, lettuce wrap paused halfway to her mouth like seeing a guy was the most shocking thing she’d heard in forever.

“Yeah,” Violette admitted. She was sitting with Soshi and Jane on a bench having lunch and enjoying the sunshine. “Apparently we’re destined to have our drinks mixed up.”

“I’m sure that’s not all it is,” Soshi said. She had the sort of hopeful expression on her face as she had the first day that Violette had met her ten years ago.

“That’s part of what makes you the matchmaker of the group, Sosh,” Jane said. She took a particularly crunchy bite out of lettuce wrap. “But that’s not the important part.”

“What’s the important part?” Soshi asked.

“It’s the hottie from the bar,” Jane said, as though that explained everything.

“And?” Soshi asked.

Violette chuckled softly, trying not to jump to conclusions. Of all of them, Jane was most likely to assume that just because Hugo was cute that-

“No one that hot doesn’t know there way around a bedroom,” Jane said.

Soshi blinked.

“That’s statistically untrue,” Violette countered while Soshi gave Jane a very familiar incredulous look. “He could be shit in bed.”

“So you’ve thought about taking him to bed?” Jane asked with a knowing grin.

“I’ve thought about him,” Violette admitted.

“I knew you’d have a crush on him!” Soshi cheered.

Jane glanced at Soshi, but then kept her eyes trained on Violette for an answer to either of their statements.

Violette shrugged, but thought about it seriously. Hugo was attractive. He had a habit of ordering ridiculous drinks, and she thought he was kind, but…

Jane cleared her throat gently, and Violette blinked away the thought of Hugo to find her friends both still watching her with expectant looks on their faces.

“He’s nice to think about,” Violette concluded, “but I don’t really know him well enough to do more than daydream.”

“Sometimes daydreams are nicer than reality,” Jane admitted.

“True,” Soshi agreed with a little nod. She perked up a moment later, reaching over to take Violette’s arm to draw her attention, and once she had it, her expression turned serious. “If you run into him again, promise me you’ll get his number.”

“Sosh…” Violette started, glancing over at Jane for a little help.

“Oh, I’m with her on this one,” Jane said. “Get the man’s number.”

“I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that you’re both on the same page about this,” VIolette said.

“Good,” Soshi pronounced, tearing off a bite of her sandwich.

“It had to happen eventually, right?” Jane asked, grinning. She took a sip of her tea.

“So, how’s the vegetable infusion going?” Soshi asked Jane, switching topics without preamble.

“I don’t think I have the stamina to be a vegetarian,” Jane confessed, taking another bite of her lettuce wrap.

“You’re just not used to it,” Soshi said. “It’s not as hard as you think once you get into a rhythm with it.”

“What’s in today’s wraps?” Violette asked.

“Hummus and beets and … some kind of lentils. I splurged and added tahini sauce, please don’t tell my calorie counter.”

“You’re the one that puts those numbers in,” Violette said. “We don’t have anything to tell.”

“I know! That’s part of what makes you ladies the best to confess to!”

The three of them chuckled at that. Soshi’s phone chirruped at her from her bag, and she sighed, taking the last big bite of her sandwich. “Gotta jog back,” she said as she made short work packing up the remains of the rest of her lunch. “I’ll see you both again tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Violette said.

“Weather permitting, right here,” Jane said with a nod. “If not, I think I figured out a central spot we can all sit with our food.”

Soshi slung her lunch bag over her shoulder. “Text me,” she said, waving as she hurried off.

Jane and Violette were a little closer to the ‘sunny day park’ they all had lunch at, so they waved back and took their time finishing their own food. Their offices were in the same general direction, so once they packed up they headed part of the way back together.

“Soshi is inspiring,” Jane said as they neared where they would split off from each other.

“She is, but how do you mean?” Violette asked.

“She works so hard at everything. I’d get worn out.”

Violette looked up at her friend. Jane was watching the concrete in front of them, and her usual confident smile had evaporated. Her softer expression made the darkened circles beneath her eyes stand out a little more.

“Are you ok, Jane?”

Jane’s brows lifted, and she looked over at Violette. “I-” she started, only to stop and look around them. They were on a sidewalk in the middle of the day, with people in business clothes moving around them heading to and from lunch and other appointments.

Violette reached out and took Jane by the elbow, gently urging her out of the flow of bodies walking with purpose to their destinations. Her office wasn’t going to burn down if she was a few minutes late getting back from lunch. If it did, they deserved it. “Jane?” she asked softly as they found a little indent in one of the tall buildings on the street.

“Not really. I mean not entirely,” Jane said. She straightened her shoulders, taking a deep breath that made her seem even taller than she was. Then she let it out, slowly, but her expression was still troubled. “It’s been a rough week or two,” she admitted. “I don’t really want to be late to work just to talk about it. Being late will only make this worse.”

“Ok,” Violette said. “But let’s get coffee tomorrow? After work so we don’t have anything to be late to?”

Jane’s trouble expression eased a little, and she managed a little smile. “I’d- that would be good, thanks Vi.”

Violette squeezed her elbow, nodding back in the direction they were heading. They started walking towards where they’d part ways, and she added, “Who knows, maybe I’ll have an update on Hugo.”

“I’m not sure there’s a third type of bar for you to meet him in,” Jane said with a chuckle. They’d reached the intersection where they needed to part ways, and she leaned over to give Violette a one-armed hug. “Text me later, yeah?”

“Of course,” Violette promised.

The rest of the walk back to her office was uneventful, and for the first time that day Violette managed not to think about her meeting with Hugo that morning. Instead she wondered what it was that was bothering Jane.