Page 11 of Stuck with a Billionaire Rockstar

“True,” she says with a knowing smile. “Well, I guess it’s time to get my flirt on.”

I shake my head, then walk along the bottom of the pool and climb up the ladder. There’s a guy staring at me with heated eyes as I do, which only makes me stumble on the last step, and I fall forward with a loud grunt.

I’m so clumsy, I swear.

Mine and Mallory’s things are sitting next to one of the chairs next to the pool, so I hurry over, pull the cover-up over my head, and breathe a sigh of relief. Mallory insisted that I wear the bikini that showed the most skin, and my stomach has done nothing but churn with anxiety that people are staring at me – and not in a good way. I turn and give Mallory a small wave, then make my way back into the resort and come to a stop inside the lobby.

My skin heats as soon as I step inside and I lock eyes with Brent from across the room. He’s not doing much of anything, just sitting on the arm of a chair with his arms crossed, and I nervously brush hair away from my face as I scurry along the marble flooring toward the elevator. Just as the doors are about to close in front of me, a large hand squeezes through and forces them back open.

Brent steps into the small cart, taking up all the air that’s left inside, and I suck in a sharp breath when he lets the doors shut on us. He takes the few steps that’s left, cutting the distance between us, and leans forward with a smirk. “Breathe, Buttercup, or else you’ll pass out on me.” His eyes dart down to my legs, inspecting them with a concerned frown before asking, “Need a bandaid for that scrape?”

I do as he asks and blow out the breath I’m holding, then suck it right back in. “Were you watching me?”

He shrugs and pushes away from me, allowing more distance between us, and I breathe a little easier from it. “If I was? A teacher needs to assess his students and make sure they understand the material.”

How do I tell him that it makes my skin heat in ways it never has before? “Did you know most stalking victims know their stalker?”

Brent lets out a deep chuckle and shakes his head. “Uh, no, I didn’t know that.”

While the elevator rises higher and higher, silence ensues, and I tap my foot against the hard floor nervously.

“You know,” he says, clearing his throat. “That’s your problem.”

I glance at him from the corner of my eye and frown. “What is?”

“You did the same thing with that guy last night. You mentioned a random fact, and that’s where you go wrong.”

“Is there something else I should’ve said?”

“You could’ve given him a name, like he asked, would’ve been much better than the response you actually gave him.”

“And if he did end up being some kind of killer?”

Brent scoffs. “Unlikely, but you didn’t have to give him your real name. A bit of mystery is fun sometimes, you know?”

“Whatever,” I mumble. “Thank you for accompanying me on the elevator, but I guess I’ve got a date to prepare for tonight.” As soon as the doors open to my floor, I step off the elevator and hurry away without looking back over my shoulder.

“Remember, something nice!”

I only hope I brought something nice enough to wear for whatever he has planned. Asking Mallory to borrow something of hers is out of the question, not after the skirt from last night and the questions she’d have for me if I did.

It’s all up to me, and for the life of me, I can’t remember at all what I packed, only that Mallory groaned at a few of the things I stuffed into my suitcase.

***

I texted Mallory to let her know I’d be out for a good portion of the night, to which she responded with a set of winky face emojis. That’s her way of letting me know that since I’m not going to be in the room, she’s likely inviting her boy toy up to ours for some fun of her own.

It started in college after I almost walked in on her and an old boyfriend. Once that happened, she told me that if I needed to find somewhere to hang out for a couple hours, she’d text me winky faces. Even though we’ve gotten older, that aspect of our relationship never changed.

With one last look in the mirror, I make my way out of our suite and head to the elevators that will take me to Brent’s floor. Of course, he’s in the section where it costs an arm and leg, which only makes my nerves skyrocket. What is he doing being seen out with someone like me?

It’s for my sake.

That’s the thing, though. Why does he care?

I shake my head and lean against the wall, tucking myself deep into a corner in case someone comes inside, with my eyes fully focused on the increasing floor numbers. When it comes to a stop on Brent’s floor, I try my best to loosen my shoulders and take a deep breath before stepping out. I’m five minutes late, which is a first for me, and I smile brightly as I lift my hand over the large wooden door.

Before I can knock, though, the door is being pulled open, and Brent leans against the doorway with a smile on his face. The sight of him in a light blue button-down that makes his eyes pop, and the short sleeves that show off the ink along his arms makes me clench my thighs together. He looks me up and down, then sighs, “Come inside, Buttercup.”

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