Page 30 of Billionaire's Second Chance

“You were in your head for most of the time. I bet you heard nothing I said on the way here," Greg informed me and helped me out of the limo.

I watched the car disappear into the distance with growing dread. The noise from the city was nothing but a distant echo in my head. Damon’s voice rang the loudest. Having Greg around seemed to dampen the reality of his offer. Damon wanted to see mealone. Holding his gaze was almost impossible when Greg was present. Alone with him would be all shades of trouble.

The brief trudge to my doorstep suddenly felt too exhausting. My shoes crunched against the paved steps, each one a laborious attempt to walk faster away from the memories that had followed me home.

I shut the door behind me and walked to the couch. I tossed my purse on it before crumbling like a sack next to it. My lids had barely closed when vivid images of Damon’s face filled my head.

A car horned outside. I raced to the window, but the driveway was as empty as it was a minute ago.

Why am I disappointed?

Then, a buzz sounded from my purse. I glanced at it, too lazy to pick it up. Greg was probably texting to know how I was doing. He would probably remind me of the role, and I wasn’t ready. I’d return his call later.

What if it was Damon?

I grabbed my purse and whipped out my phone. It was a text, but not from Greg.

"It was an honor to be in your company earlier. The car will be at your house shortly."Damon's text read.

I blinked repeatedly, my eyelids matching the speed of my pulse. I had to make a decision. Now!

Yes or no, Ava? Are you going or not?

I'd have to tell the driver something when he got here. Or could I hide and switch my phone off?

"Ava, when you want to be in character, there is no room for second-guessing and indecisiveness," my favorite college professor's words beat against my eardrums from inside my skull. "Once you understand the core of your character, you need to become her and toss every other thought or feeling you have."

And that was the problem. This wasn't a script. I wasn't in character. This was real life, happening tome. I wished I could hide behind a role and act like a strong, intelligent woman who'd know exactly what to do at this moment.

Then I peeled myself off the couch and walked to the bedroom. I stood before the mirror, adjusted my dress, fixed my ruffled ponytail, applied a fresh layer of lipgloss, and lifted my chin. For tonight, I'd be Ava Sage, the tough and sassy go-getter. I'd play a role for Damon and get what I was owed all those years since we last saw each other—respect and validation.

Bright lights flooded in through the window. That must be his chauffeur. I grabbed my purse hastily, but then I paused and slowed my pace to a lazy stroll. I was the confident Ava. I wasn't going to rush for anyone or anything.

The perfectly-dressed chauffeur from earlier tonight stood beside the vehicle with the door wide open.

“Ms. Sage," he greeted me. "Mr. Alexander sent me back for you.”

Still hesitant and reluctant, I stepped inside, half-expecting to find Damon inside. The door shut with a dull thud. My heart raced.

As we pulled away from the driveway, I wondered what he’d be like when we met alone. I hoped he wouldn't try anything physical because I didn't trust myself to say 'no.'

The drive went on longer than I expected. We drove past the buildings I recognized, and enormous mansions zapped by us.

“Sir, where are we headed?” I leaned in to ask the chauffeur.

“Hollywood Hills, Ms. Sage," he informed me calmly.

"Damon's house," I declared, more as a statement than a question.

He never mentioned this part of the plan, but for some reason, I remained calm, curious to see the end of this brazen adventure.

We arrived at his mansion after driving through the heavy gates. I had barely stepped down from the limo when the splash of fountains reached my ears. A lush green lawn faded into the distance, and an intimidating white, modern house appeared before me.

The night air caressed my skin as I walked to the door. When I got there, I noticed it was cracked open, so I took a deep breath and cautiously walked in.

Inside, Damon stood before a fireplace with his back to me, his sleeves folded to his elbows. Near him, a marble table with golden brown whiskey glimmering from the bottle and two glasses beside it. He tossed something into the fire, watching it go up in flames.

“Burning evidence?” I startled him from behind.

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