Page 1 of The Billionaire Invitation

CHAPTER ONE

Rule one: Arrive thirty minutes after the doors open, unless you’re the speaker, in which case be an hour early.

Dante Crane had already broken that rule. He wasn’t giving the keynote, but he was still about an hour late. He could blame the woman in front of him. She was also the reason he was on this flight at all, so he could hardly hold it against her.

“Is there any way we can put that bag into the cabin?” Simone Moretti asked the limo driver at the foot of the jet stairs.

The driver, clearly a new guy, gave the suitcase a dubious glance. “Ma’am?”

“Those are couture gowns and some of them are older than you. I’d prefer if they ride with the captain, but I’ll settle for them seated next to me.”

Dante buried a smile. In and out of the boardroom he was known for his stoicism. Or, as he referred to it: emotional governing. Anyway, his mother wouldn’t appreciate him appearing to laugh at her. To be fair, he wasn’t. He appreciated her…idiosyncrasies.

“I saw that.” Simone must have caught his reaction as the driver loaded the suitcase ahead of them. “Why Sam insisted on sending the gowns with me, I have no idea.”

She rolled dark blue eyes that Dante hadn’t inherited. His mother, an award-winning costume designer, was lugging around couture that cost more than the movie studio’s jet for one very good reason: there was no one else the producer trusted more than her.

On the plane, he unbuttoned his suit jacket before sitting. His mother leaned back, cracked open a can of Diet Coke, and took a long, appreciative drink. She blew out a breath like she’d taken a drag of a cigarette instead. “So good. Let me see the baby again.” She held out a hand tipped with manicured red nails.

Dante opened Brody’s texts and showed her the 3D ultrasound. His niece’s nose was pressed flat on one side, her tiny lips full and puckered, her fists curled. She was beautiful already.

“I hope she gives birth while you’re there.” Simone handed his phone back to him.

“She might. Brody said she’s due soon.”

“I love a spring baby! You should at least stay until then. I want to-the-minute updates! Will I be an auntie or a grandma?”

Neither by blood, but that barely mattered in their family.

“I will insist on auntie. Grandma is reserved for your children and yours alone.” She smiled. Before he could argue that he was in no position to have children of his own, she said, “Maybe if there’s a break when they don’t need me, I can slip away from the set and fly down…”

She chattered on about Brody and Reagan and the baby the entire ascent. Dante was happy for his brother, especially after Brody had nearly blown it with strong, independent Reagan. Dante had played a crucial part in getting them back together. He’d almost single-handedly kept Brody from leaving behind the woman who brought out the best in him. Not that Brody would admit it. But he had asked Dante to be best man at their wedding.

Now all Brody had to do was set a date.

Once they were in the air at cruising altitude, the flight attendant brought him the bottle of water he’d requested.

“You’re sure, Mr. Crane?” she asked with some concern in her eyes. “We have your favorite scotch in stock if you’d rather⁠—”

“Thank you. Water is fine.”

His mother arched a brow. When the attendant had gone, Simone waited for him to take a sip before pointing out, “You ordering water on a flight is like me ordering a regular Coke. Unheard of.”

It was true. She and Diet Coke had been monogamous for decades.

“I’m deplaning and walking directly into the event. At this rate, later than I anticipated.” Dante checked his Rolex for the second time since he’d sat down. He didn’t know why. There was no conceivable way to make it there any faster.

Rule two: Walk the carpet, no matter what color it is, and pose for the camera.

He’d learned early on that a foundation with a celebrity face was a good way to separate donors from their money. In lieu of a celebrity face, they’d take the face of a billionaire. He fit that bill.

He’d agreed to tonight as a favor to his Chicago cousin, billionaire Elijah Crane. Eli needed a face for a charity dinner for Refurbs for Vets, which provided housing upgrades for injured veterans.

Dante had been a twenty-one-year-old college dropout the first time he’d worked a room in that capacity, but he’d known not to let on that he was the new guy. He’d built a new-and-improved identity, and had made sure to drop his last name at every opportunity. The Crane name carried a lot of weight in the press. Since those greener days, he’d carved out a unique space in the industry.

“It’s good of you to show up for Eli,” his mom said. Even though she’d never married Dante’s father, and wasn’t a Crane, she considered Octavius’s nephews—Reese, Tag, and Eli—her nephews as well.

And if anyone thought that dynamic was strange, they had only to flip through the family album to see Christmas photos of the four different women that had birthed Dante, his younger sister, and his two older brothers. They’d never had a shortage of mother figures growing up.