Page 22 of Billionaire's Second Chance

“Acting?” She said, looking at the other jury members, confused and perplexed.

I pressed my lips into a thin line. Ava stood still, owning the confidence that matched her performance.

“You didn’t just act, Ava,” I exclaimed. “You became Rose.”

The door swung open. Her puffy-cheeked agent in a striped t-shirt ambled inside. He stood at one end of the stage and took deep breaths.

I raised my voice. “How would you like to be a part of this production? To be the next Damon Alexander star?”

She held my gaze, then averted her eyes. Her agent beamed.

“I’ll have to think about it,” she said.

My head jerked backward. She probably remembers me and wants to make me sweat.

“This is a good deal, Ava.” I peered at her.

“Yes.” She smiled politely. “But I still have to think about it.”

I glanced at the door. My eyes and those of her agent connected. His face had turned white, and his jaw hung on his chest.

“You’re her agent?” I asked the chubby guy, catching his breath.

“Yes!” he squared his shoulders proudly.

“I trust you will take this opportunity because it's clearly the best for both of you,” I said convincingly.

He nodded, looked at her, and they both left the stage. The silence that followed was dreadful.

Damon, this one would be all your fault.

7

Ava

“I’mnottakingtherole,” I said as soon as I sat in Greg's car.

“What?” Greg batted his eyelids. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, I’m not going to play Rose,” I slowly enunciated the words.

“You must be kidding.” Greg’s brows furrowed.

I looked up at Greg’s face. Sweat dripped on the collar of his t-shirt.

“I wish I was, Greg,” I said. “But the reasons are too personal to explain.”

He shook his head and took a step back. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

I bit my lip. I had disappointed him—deeply, I was sure.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

Greg rubbed his forehead and stared at me. “I hope you’re not making a mistake.”

I hoped so, too. The Damon Alexander job would have been great for both of our careers. But I couldn't do it.

We drove in silence until he dropped me off at my destination. I looked up at the sign above me, and a smile spread across my face for the first time today—Happy Paws Sanctuary. The irony—this was also my sanctuary. I'd come to the kennel every time my head spun with conflicting thoughts or LA's pressure got to me. Walking my furry friends was the closest thing to meditation, and I always left feeling calmer and recharged.

---