Page 49 of Billion Dollar Revenge

“Remind me why you stayed with him so long?”

“He made me believe I wasn’t good enough. So that only made me want to prove that I was and that we were great together.”

He shakes his head, but his lips turn up. “Promise me you won’t believe that again.”

I lower my voice. “I promise.”

“Good,” he says with a crooked grin, his eyes darkening before surprising me by leaning in and kissing my temple.

It feels like the air has shifted between us. I take a sip of alcohol to wet my throat.

He shifts forward on the chair. “Are you ready to leave?”

My pulse picks up pace. “It only started two hours ago and you’re the host.”

He shrugs and says nonchalantly, “They’ll have more fun without me.”

“How do you know?”

“I hear all the stories from Gabby.”

He adjusts the strap on my dress, sending a tingle down my arm.

“Of course,” I breathe.

His tongue skims his bottom lip. “Come on, I’ll take you somewhere else.”

I twist and glance around the room, but Bobby is nowhere in sight. Not that it matters. I haven’t seen him since the start of the night, and the thought of him now feels insignificant. The plan for revenge, the idea of fake dating…it all seems stupid now. The only thing that truly matters tonight is the connection between us. The rest of the world, including Bobby, has faded into the distance.

I lower my glass to the table as Evan stands.

“Let’s go.” I stand, and he takes my hand in his as we slip out the exit. The cool air is refreshing and instantly wakes me up.

Evan’s thumb moves along my hand in a soft pattern. The electricity bouncing between us has been growing all night. Now we're alone. Which means I’m about to test my restraint.

Just before I get a chance to speak, Evan yanks my hand, causing me to spin.

His hand lands on my hip, gripping me tightly. I let out a shuddery breath when his other hand breaks from our hold and slides deep into my hair. “I love your hair.”

A slow, easy smile stretches on my face. “Thanks.”

He laughs. “You’re not used to compliments. I should know.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

His hand skims my face, and I tremble at the touch. “I never received one fucking compliment. But with you…”

“What about me?” I push, pleading to know what he’s thinking. We share the same insecurities. Never feeling good enough. Always giving and never receiving.

“You should be told how beautiful you are.”

My bottom lip wobbles. “I never heard those words,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper.

“I know,” he says, his blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat. “And you should’ve.You fucking deserve to know how incredible you are. Not just beautiful, but smart too.”

I’m trembling inside at words I’ve longed to hear. Is he saying this because he means it, or is this part of the arrangement? I can’t help but hold a flicker of hope that this is genuine. But then, why now, when he always kept his distance emotionally?

As if no one else is around, he steps closer, and I follow. We’re both breathing hard, and I know he wants to kiss me just as I want to kiss him. My eyes roam his face, taking in every inch of it. There’s conflict in his eyes before it’s gone and replaced with darkness. As if reading his thoughts, my hands dive into his hair, and he brings his mouth an inch from mine.

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