Page 27 of Billionaire's Sins
I shrug off the priest’s robes, drape them over the nearest chair.
"Here!" Damian calls out behind me.
I turn and snatch my phone that he tosses in my direction. Then I grab my wallet and keys, and I run for the door.
11
"I love my mum to bits, but she annoys me to no end by agreeing with my Father on most things. Gah! I have come to realize it's really important to stand up for yourself and in what you believe in and not allow a man to dictate how you're going to live your life."
-From Ava's diary
Ava
"Ava, are you listening? Ava?" I pull the phone away from my shoulder, and stare at it. Raisa called me when I was at the bar, and I stepped out to take her call, and now I regret it. She's reminding me to come to my father's wedding... My father's wedding. OMG, how can those two words even go together? Can I actually look on while he marries someone else? Someone who'll take the place of my mother at his side?
"Ava?" I hear my sister's voice over the phone, and sigh, then press the device to my ear, "I am here, Raisa."
"Are you out clubbing?" I can practically see the scolding expression on her face.
"You don't have to sound so judgmental." I huff.
"I'm not," she protests, "I was just wondering where you were out. That's all."
"Yes, I am at a club, and no, I don’t do this every night. I am only out because I've had a few hard days and needed to unwind."
"Of course," she mutters, "must be fun to dance for a living, then also dance to have fun."
"You didn't just say that." I scowl, "Seriously, Raisa. I may not work a desk job like you, but I do have a career... It's just that it's a creative one."
"Of course," Raisa murmurs. Her tone is contrite, but I am not really sure if I believe her. "I am not faulting your career choice, Ava. It's just... I... It's unorthodox, that's all."
Wait until you hear about my choice in men. Hoo boy, talk about being unorthodox.I snicker, and all but sense Raisa getting prickly on the other end of the line.
"You don't have to make fun of me," she says in a hurt voice, "I really am trying to understand you, Ava."
"I know you are." I hunch my shoulders. "I know I've been a bitch since Dad broke his news. Well, no, even earlier, since Mom's death..."
There's silence on the line, then I sigh, "Okay, okay. In general, I've been a bit of a brat for a while now."
"Thank you," she exclaims. "Now that we have that out of the way, are you coming to the wedding?"
There's silence. A beat, another. "I... I need to think about it," I finally say.
"Think all you want." Her voice hardens, "Just as long as you come."
We'll see. I am still not sure I want to attend, but if I don't go my dad will be hurt and I don’t want that to happen either.I'll be there,is what I want to say. Instead, I hold the phone away from my face. "Oh, someone's calling me. I'd better be going. Bye, Raisa."
Coward. I am such a coward. Why is it so difficult to simply tell her that I'll be there? Maybe because it feels like I am being disloyal to Mum if I say that I'll attend the wedding? Despite everything Dad told me, I still don't feel completely right with going to see my Dad marrying another woman. I shake my head. I need to stop obsessing about it and carry on with the reason I am out tonight. Music, dancing. Yes, that's why I came out today, right? To forget all of my worries for a few hours. I pivot, then head for the dance floor.
Twenty minutes later, the music pours over me, ripples down my stomach and in between my legs. I close my eyes, shake my booty, drag my hands up over my head. Let the rhythm infiltrate me, curve around my waist, sizzle down my legs, my toes. Ah. With the right music, the right beats, the right tempo, it’s like I am flying. OMG, this is sooo much fun.
I grind my hips, bend my knees, curve my torso to fit to the melody. Swipe my hair up and away from my neck, turn my head to the side, then the other way, grind my hips again, only to brush up against something… Someone. Hands grasp my waist, then I am pulled back and fitted against the unmistakable bulge of male hardness. Warmth grips me. He’s here; he came for me. He has to have come. He couldn’t stay away. Hot breath grazes my ear, the heat of his body envelops me. The scent of beer and stale sweat assails me. No, not him. Who the hell is this, then? I snap open my eyes as he leans into me.
"Hello baby, wanna go for a test drive?"
Eeeugh. Is that even a pick-up line, or what? I turn around to take in the features of the man who leers down at me. Sweat beads his brow; his cheeks are ruddy. His face boasts a weak chin and his lips are slightly parted as he pants down at me. Just my luck. Of all the creepy crawlies in the world, the grossest of them all had to come onto me. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I seem to forever attract the wrong kind of man? And the one time I’d been sure my luck was changing, that I’d found someone who was different, and hot and kind and sexy and dominant, and yet, sensitive… Yeah. I know. Turns out, he was too good to be true anyway. "Get away from me."
I try to pull away, but he applies more pressure on my hips and holds me in place. "Now, now," his features brighten, "is that anyway to treat our new-found friendship."
