The Billionaire’s Second Chance - Weston Parker Page 0,2

I couldn’t say she understood it.

I took a gulp of my drink, rolling the smooth liquid around in my mouth while I searched for the answer I was looking for. “Why not? We’ve been together for years, she’s fucking hot, and she wants the exact same things out of life as I do.”

“Which is?” A tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Travel, luxury, wealth, fast cars, and flashy parties?”

“Exactly.” I raised my glass to clink with him, but he left me hanging.

His dark brown eyes were still filled with doubt. “What about love? Kids?”

“Maybe someday down the line we’ll relax and have a couple, but why worry about that now?” I used my glass to gesture at the club around us. “This is the dream, man. Why would I fuck with that?”

“Cracking jokes with strangers, taking pictures with randoms to make their boyfriends jealous, and consistently buying rounds for everyone in here is living the dream?” His brow furrowed even more. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling it.”

Picking up his glass with my free hand, I put it in his hand and pointedly clashed mine against it. “Have a few more of these and you’ll be feeling a lot more than that.”

Dave was successful in the film industry too. He just hadn’t taken a front and center role like I had. Perhaps it was uncharacteristic for a producer to be in the limelight so often, but that was just the way things had happened for me.

The difference between us was that I liked the attention while he preferred to hang back. I knew he was worried that I was only marrying Angelina for the attention being with a beautiful actress garnered, but that really wasn’t it.

Whenever I so much as pictured my gorgeous fiancée with her pin-straight black hair and her bright blue eyes, tall and statuesque like a goddamn warrior princess, I was at risk of getting hard. The woman was known for being responsible for some of the best spank-bank material out there with the images of all the love scenes she’d done, and I wasn’t immune to that allure.

She had legs that were two miles long and felt fucking incredible wrapped around my waist. But it wasn’t just the sex. Not that I would ever complain about that, but that wasn’t why I’d allowed her to pin me down when so many before her had failed.

Angelina and I got along great, our interests were aligned, and it didn’t hurt that she was the female lead in my show. We’d spent so much time together that now it felt weird to be apart, like we’d just kind of grown into one another.

We were good together, and it’d felt right when I dropped down on one knee for her on that beach in the Maldives.

Dave gulped down the rest of his drink in one go after my glass crashed into his, and I wholeheartedly followed his example before dragging him over to the crowded bar. There was no more of that bullshit talk about deeper issues for the rest of the night. We did shots, took pictures, and I dished out a few more autographs, entered a dance-off with a member of a well-known boy band, and immersed myself in the craziness that was the club scene.

A couple of hours later, Dave and I stumbled outside for some fresh air. We were immediately spotted by paparazzi hanging out on the curb, and they closed in on me like sharks on chum before I could even think about getting an escape plan hatched.

Fuck. How could I have forgotten about them?

Dave rolled his eyes, but he knew this was the price of being my friend. He took a step back while the vultures shouted at me.

I couldn’t hear them at first. My ears were still ringing from the volume of the music inside. Once I started making out their questions, my heart lurched in my chest and my stomach tightened. The questions all jumbled together, but the ones that jumped out at me made no sense.

“When did you find out Angelina was having an affair?”

“How long has it been going on?”

“What did you think when you saw the video?”

“Is the wedding off?”

My head spun. What the fuck are they talking about? Is she cheating on me?

Dizzy, disoriented, and slightly nauseated, I turned to find Dave. He was already making a dash for the curb, yelling at security to clear a path for me while he hailed a cab.