Page 92 of Billion Dollar Revenge

I sink into his strong arms and enjoy the velvet warmth of his kiss. It flows through my veins. I’ll never get sick of kissing him.

I'm clutching the wine in my hands between our chests, while his hands explore my lower back.

When we pull away to take a breath, he whispers into my hair, “Let's go eat dinner.”

His hand pushes my lower back gently, encouraging me to walk, embracing me the whole way back to the dining table. Only then does his hand leave my body.

I put the bottle in the middle of the table and take in all the food.

“I think you've cooked for a family, not just for us.”

“I wanted to make sure you have enough to eat.” He reaches over and twists open the bottle and pours wine into our glasses. “You can take leftovers to Summer.”

I smile, knowing Summer would love that. She’d love him more than she already does.

We take our seats across from each other, and I feel a knot in my throat form at the thought of how lonely living alone would be. At least I have Summer.

I concentrate on eating, and afterwards Evan ushers me outside to his deck, where chairs sit facing the ocean. If I thought it was beautiful during the day, it’s absolutely captivating at night. With the wind rustling the trees, insects and sea birds making noises, and the ocean waves crashing, it’s the perfect place to relax.

“Thank you for cooking for me tonight.”

His mouth curves into an infectious grin. “Anything for you.”

His disarming smile makes my heart thump erratically.

But as we sit in silence, my mind can’t let go of the missing facts I have about his past. He knows everything about Bobby, and I feel like I barely know a thing about his ex. We touched on it briefly, but I still have unanswered questions.

“Can I ask you something?”

His head turns to look at me. “Of course.”

“How long were you and your ex together?”

He doesn’t blink. “Five years.”

“And you were engaged?” I probe further.

“Yes,” he responds with a tight jaw. It’s the only uncomfortable sign he’s shown tonight.

“Would you ever get engaged again?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

He looks out to the ocean, taking a few minutes before answering. My hands are tightly resting on my lap, waiting eagerly for his reply.

“No, honestly, never again,” he says firmly.

My lips press into a grimace as I lower my head. Inside, my heart is shrinking. I always envisioned my father walking me down the aisle in my big dress to my husband-to-be. The celebration going all night, starting with our bridal waltz to the speech where he declares his love for me in front of all our family and friends.

So where does this leave us?

A tense silence envelops the room.

“Would you want to get engaged?” he asks, staring over at me.

I flick my eyes back up. Ignoring the cold knot that forms in my stomach, I dip my head. “Yeah, I see myself getting married one day.”

Color drains from his face, and I can’t control the trembling of my body.

With Bobby, I thought I was close to that, and he crushed my dreams. Now with Evan, he's telling me I will never get it. I feel as if a hand has closed around my throat.

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