Page 43 of Billionaire's Second Chance

"What type of books?" I sat up in my chair, intrigue rushing through my mind. "I was a sucker for books, too, as a kid."

"Classics," she smiled with admiration. "Everyone thought I was weird. But something about the language in those books made me feel like I belonged in those times."

My pulse escalated with each one of her words. I waited patiently for her to tell me some of her favorite books, which I hoped matched mine.

"Name a few," I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest in anticipation.

"Hm, let's see," her eyes darted to the ceiling as flipping through an imaginary catalog. "Besides the obvious ones likeThe Great Gatsby,Anna Karenina,Breakfast at Tiffany's,etcetera, I truly lovedThe Age of Innocence,The Call of the Wild,The Count of Monte Christo, andDangerous Liaisons," she paused and returned her gaze to the table. "To name a few."

I remained silent, but a genuine smile lit up my face. We had more in common than I had hoped for, and I felt the mental distance between us grow smaller and smaller.

"Wanna know my favorite classic?" I asked and waited for her to nod in agreement. "One Hundred Years of Solitude."

"Oh, the infamous Colonel Aureliano Buendia," she perked up and cleared her throat. "Lost in the solitude of his immense power, he began to lose direction." Ava recited my favorite quote, word for word.

She paused, and her smile turned into a frown. She saw something in me that startled her, and she fidgeted with her plate.

My hand reached across the table, landing on top of hers. My eyes drifted to her lips. I leaned in. Would she push me away if I kissed her? I moved my lips forward. They grazed hers. She didn't pull away. Her soft lips pressed against mine, and our tongues found each other again. All restraints vanished for a moment.

But I snapped back to reality. I didn't want to hurt her anymore. This could not go on.

“You should go home, Ava.” I pulled away and walked off, shaken to my core.

13

Ava

Thejolthadleftme paralyzed, wanting nothing but his lips crushing down on mine. His lips had parted so easily, like he had been hypnotized—under a spell.

And what's more, he had been vulnerable and expected the same from me. I felt more for him now than I did after our night at his mansion. Or the night at the Waldorf years ago. Sleeping with him had done less harm than talking to him.

I clung to the cup in my hands, its contents long gone. On the way to the kitchen, my mind raced with thoughts about Lily.

She never asked to be a part of all this. Like me, she hoped she’d find love in the arms of this Hollywood producer, only to get her life torn apart by Ava Sage. I had become the vengeful ex, and that role was not one I was proud of. I had to fix this.

Footsteps approached the kitchen. “Ava.”

The cup slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor. Greg appeared at the doorway immediately.

“Oh, Shit.” He ran over, shielding me from the broken ceramic pieces on the floor. “What happened?”

“It slipped.” I let my eyes wander from the broken pieces on the floor to his bulging eyes.

He saw through my obvious lie. His eyes searched mine, scouring for the truth. I looked elsewhere. He grabbed a broom and went about cleaning the mess I had made. As he always did.

“What’s going on with you?” Greg asked, putting the broom down.

“Am I a bad person, Greg?” I sat on the edge of the couch, looking at my feet.

“What happened, Ava?” Greg sat next to me.

I pressed my face against his chest, burying my guilt. “Damon.”

“Damon?” He stiffened, then relaxed. “You must have heard about the suit. Lily Rae decided to press charges.”

I didn't respond, just kept sobbing.

“But you knew that already, didn’t you?” He stopped patting my shoulders. “Did he do anything to you?”

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