Page 39 of Billionaire's Second Chance

I squirmed. “I just really needed to see you.”

“What for?” He whispered the words, nuzzling against my neck.

“We barely heard that,” Damon's voice pierced the air, startling me and Derek.

“And cut,” Sandy shrieked and looked at Damon. “You were saying, boss?”

“Get your movements right, Derek," Damon scoffed and started pacing around us. "If you’re saying something seductive, get in the moment and mean it. That was too dull and rushed. You'll want to take it slow and make it more believable.”

“Let's try again,” Derek swallowed.

"Ava," Damon faced me. "You're too stiff. Try not to be repulsed by Derek this time."

My cheeks flushed with anger. I wasn't repulsed by Derek. Damon was being a dick.

I didn't say anything. I took a breath and got in character, only to be interrupted again seconds later.

“Way too fast,” Damon scoffed.

“Cut,” Sandy yelled, smoke coming out from his nostrils like a raging bull. "If you don't get this right, no one is going to bed tonight."

Damon walked toward me and shoved Derek out of the way. Everyone stared quietly. My heart thumped louder.

"What's wrong, Rose?" Damon got in character, lay on the bed, and his eyes examined me with genuine curiosity. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I inhaled, realizing what was happening. And exhaled, giving life to Rose.

“I’m so sorry,” I pulled back anxiously. “I should have knocked before coming in.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Damon strolled toward me, his masculine hands cradled my shoulders, trailing a path down to my waist. He pulled me closer, letting me feel his warm breath on my face.

“I just really needed to see you,” I looked up at Damon lustfully.

“What for?” He asked firmly, making my knees shake at the closeness of his lips.

"I just thought—" I paused as the script required me to, and my pulse escalated as I knew what came next.

Damon's firm grip pulled me in. He stared into my eyes briefly, and then our lips met in a passionate kiss.

"Cut!" Sandy shrieked. "Thisis how you do it!"

Derek and I exchanged anxious glances across the room. My cheeks were now bright red. I was struggling to catch my breath.

Damn you, Damon!

12

Damon

Robert’sofficewasmoderateat best. The walls begged for decorations and anything other than the thick scent of paper and cologne.

Years of standing before a judge must have affected his reflexes. He gesticulated with rhythm as he spoke. I swallowed, hoping it’ll reduce the bitter taste that slowly grew in my mouth.

Robert was hunched over his chair because of his towering height and bony frame. His glasses added to his unique appearance.

“I still maintain that our best bet would be an out-of-court settlement,” he said.

“Who’s representing her?” I asked.

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