Page 26 of Billionaire's Second Chance

“So, what shall we start with? Champagne? Wine?” He continued, ignoring my discomfort.

“I think I’m fine for now,” I shifted in my seat.

“Fine? It’s not dinner and drinks if you’re not drinking anything, right?” He clapped his hands, and a waiter appeared.

I forced a smile and cleared my throat. “Water, please.”

8

Damon

Themouthwateringaromaofroast steak filled the table. I would shut my eyes as I chewed, but the view before me was as tasty as the steak in my mouth. She blinked slowly and poked at the lamb on her plate.

I had visited the White Lotus with A-list actors and billionaires before, but this felt different. My hands sought to do more than hold a fork, and my lips sought beyond, flashing a smile on my face.

All I had to do was remain in charge. My venue, my conversations. She had no idea that I remembered who she was. It should remain that way.

But my eyes wouldn’t wrench themselves from her face. That wasn’t part of the plan. Her eyes glimmered in the gentle lights of the White Lotus. This wasn’t the same stage-shy actress who had attended my workshop years ago—a timid student at Columbia with big dreams and a trusting heart.

My team and I had been scouting for new characters for a movie in New York. She had asked so many questions it would have been impossible to ignore her.

Same way I can’t look away now.

“I like your dress,” I muttered a dumb compliment.

Greg looked up. She didn’t.

“Thank you,” she smiled, serving a glass of water to her lips.

This was a different Ava Sage, not the one I had kissed years ago. She had shuddered in delight when I pecked her shoulders then. I doubted she would react the same way now. She seemed more composed and firm on the ground beneath her feet.

"Enjoy the freedom you have now," I winked at her. "Once you're famous, even the simplest choices will be scrutinized."

She squinted her eyes with confusion.

“I think what he’s trying to say is that you lose whatever privacy you once had,” Greg said. “Whatever you say or do is now subject to public opinion.”

“That too, but freedom to do even simple things becomes almost impossible. Like picking your clothes. Or, God forbid, your partners."

She adjusted in her seat again, straight face, plump lips.

“I don’t think that’ll apply to me,” she said calmly.

“I don’t doubt that. Designers will be tripping over each other, trying to dress you." I assured her.

Or undress you.

“Do you say this to all your future stars?” Ava mocked me.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” I joked.

“No," she looked at me with scrutiny.

Greg cleared his throat.

I wish he weren't here. Greg hovered over Ava like a protective mother hen, countering my every move with one of his own.

“Nice steak, huh? Mr.—" I interrupted his chewing.

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