Broken Billionaire’s Second Chance: A Billionaire Romance by Claire Angel

Author:Claire Angel [Angel, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Moira

I can't believe what we just did or how incredibly perfect he was.

Lying on my back on my bed, I run my fingers through my hair and plant my heels so my knees point toward the ceiling. I feel sloppy and sore in all the right ways and when I glance over at him, he’s smiling at me.

“You're so beautiful,” he says, leaning over to kiss me. With that, he rolls over and stands up and I enjoy the view.

“Bathroom is down the hall to the right,” I say, anticipating that that's the reason he's getting out of bed.

He grins down at me before sauntering out of the room, that sexy ass of his bouncing. I return my attention to the ceiling, absolutely stunned. I'd invited him over because I wanted to talk to him, but things quickly spiraled out of control. I blame him for looking too delicious to ignore. And for kissing me, of course.

I hear his phone buzz from the night stand and without thinking about it, I lift up on one elbow to peek at the screen. Cynthia. I see something about her missing him before I realize that I don't want to be the kind of girl that reads his messages just because we slept together. It doesn't matter what she said to him; it's none of my business.

Still, I can't help but wonder if he's actually over her. Maybe she still has some kind of a hold on him, a way of making him doubt our relationship or making him want to go back to her. I wonder if he still loves her and if there's room in his life for the both of us.

And what she'd said about Club Red was interesting. Apparently he’s a regular there and brings home women from the place, according to her. So what was his real reason for not wanting to go there with me when I invited him? I don’t feel like I have the right to be asking him these kinds of questions because we're not in a relationship.

Still, I can't help but wonder.

I let out a sigh, well aware that there's nothing good that can come from these kinds of thoughts. So why am I torturing myself?

My phone vibrates from my night stand and I reach over to grab it, wondering who the heck would be texting me right now. And I get the answer when I turn the phone over and look at the screen to see my mother’s name and a clipped message about an emergency.

I let out a sigh and resist the urge to roll my eyes. Another emergency? The last one hadn't been an emergency at all, but I have to remind myself this time she could be telling the truth, and I need to take every claim seriously. Because the one time I don't take it seriously and it's actually an emergency, I'll never be able to forgive myself.

I open her message and sit upright in bed. It’s an emergency - I’ve fallen down.

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