Playboy Billionaire

“Can you—“?

“Yes. I’m leaving.” I exit the bathroom and do my best to erase the very thing from my mind I was trying to break free from.

“Shower’s free.” Stella strides out of the room in only a towel, her hair dripping all over my floor as she walks. I watch her leave, don’t say a word because what the fuck am I supposed to say, and run into the bathroom to take the coldest shower I’ve ever taken.

Even that doesn’t seem to calm my mind, but at least I don’t feel so unhinged. I slip into some comfortable Gucci sweats and a plain white t-shirt before striding out of my room and right to Stella's door before I can stop myself. Then I knock like I’m not controlling my body, and she calls for me to come in.

I swing open the door, and she’s already in a similar outfit, sitting by her window with a sketchbook.

“Hi.” She looks up when she feels me staring. The sun is setting, and even with all of its bursting colors, I’m still focused on her.

“Hey.” I scratch the back of my neck.

“You need something?” Honestly, attempting to figure that out myself. She presses the back of her pen to her bottom lip.

“I found you a publicist.” Not a lie. I did, in fact, find her one this week. Nancy Chen— well-known in her arena with a degree in business and a masters in communication. Stella appears to be disparaged by the news.

“What?” I frown.

“Oh, I just— told you I didn’t want one.”

“I know, but you need one.”

“I’ve been fine on my own.”

“Have you?” I fold my arms across my chest, and her frown grows deeper.

“Yeah.” She looks back down at her sketchbook, and I know I’ve fucked up.

“At least use her tomorrow for the premiere afterparty.” I lightly press, only because I pulled countless strings to get Nancy. Furthermore, probably because pouty-lips will be there, and it’s a necessary failsafe.

“Will you be there?” She looks up from her sketchbook again. Maybe I didn’t fuck up as badly as I thought because her eyes are soft and inquisitive.

“Yeah, of course.” I press my lips into a smile, and she narrows her eyes.

“Okay. Fine.” She relents. “Is that all?”

“No, actually. I was hoping you’d want to have some wine with me.” Why the fuck am I saying this? I should have stayed in my room. It’s silent for a few minutes, and I don’t know why I wait so long for her to speak. After a few more minutes, she closes her sketchbook and sits it down.

“Only if we can play Scrabble.” She grins, standing to her feet.

“Deal.” I smile back and walk with her down the stairs to the lounge room.

It’s actually a nice night. We come up with a drinking game that starts to not make any sense the more we play it. It involves the points in scrabble, but I honestly couldn’t tell you a single rule. We’ve gone through a bottle and a half and still haven’t gotten through the first game. I don’t even know who’s winning.

“Stell, it’s your turn.”

“No?” She furrows her brows and pouts her wine-stained lips, staring intently at the board.

“Yes.” I point to my last word.

“No.” She points to another one of my words like it was her move.

“That was mine.”

“I’m sure it was—” She looks down at her unplayed chips. “Oh! Oops.” She throws down a three-letter word while giggling.

“I was just going to ignore you.” She laughs.