My Brother Sent Me to the Kids’ Table—Until His Billionaire CEO Sat Beside Me

the back of the ballroom. “I’ll sit at the kids’ table.”

Table Nineteen was exactly what the seating chart had promised, and then some.

It was tucked into the far corner near the swinging kitchen doors, positioned close enough that every time a server pushed through with a loaded tray, a rush of hot, garlic-scented air hit our table and ruffled the paper continue reading …