Page 22 of The Next Door Billionaire's Deception

“I don’t know what shows you prefer to watch,” she says as she flips through channels. “This will do.”

It’s a boring show about a superstar family with everyday interactions. How do people find it interesting?

“I didn’t think you were a fan of reality TV,” she says. Her voice is closer now; she’s walking toward me from behind the couch. She sits beside me, placing the flutes on the coffee table. I inhale her flowery scent, becoming all too aware of her proximity. She stands after a few seconds.

“Do you need help with the bucket of ice?”

“Nah. I think I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”

She brings over the ice bucket and places it beside the coffee table. Then, she brings out the wine from the bucket.

“Will you do me the honors of opening it?”

“Sure.”

Taking the bottle from her, I pour us a glass as soon as I open the bottle and return it into the ice bucket. She picks up her flute first and smirks at me.

“Do you treat the women in your life like you treated that wine?”

“If you’re asking me whether I’m considerate, then the answer is yes.”

Her eyes glint as she smiles. “I’m not asking if you’re considerate.”

Her voice is lower, sultry. Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

“What are you asking?”

Melissa’s eyes bore into mine. A small cryptic smile dances on her lips. Gradually, she raises her glass to her lips. My eyes drop to her mouth, to the slow movement of her lips as they part. She stares at me from over the rim of her glass, and warmth courses through me.

I tear my gaze from hers and drink my wine in two gulps. My thoughts have strayed twice tonight. That’s going too far.

“So, is this a friendly visit between two wine lovers?” I ask after the long silence.

Melissa drops her glass on the table and crosses her legs.

“I like getting to know people around me.”

Her response is evasive. A frown creases my brow. Before I can give a response, she stands and walks toward the kitchen.

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

Just then, I spot a familiar picture on the wall. A familiar face stares at me from the portrait. He looks a lot younger, but his features are easy to recognize.

My best friend, Alex.

My frown deepens. What’s a picture of Alex doing here?

Chapter 8

Melissa

“Noway!Thatdidn’thappen!”

“It actually did. Club initiation rituals get more ridiculous as you move, but they make great stories

to tell people when you’re drunk.”

“I would imagine so. But now, you have me curious. Have you ever been doxed before?”

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