Billionaire's Second Chance

Jackson leaned in to watch as I sent him a series of emails and attachments. While he admired my quick work on my phone, and the plunging V-neck of my white dress, I caught sight of Fenton across the hotel lobby. It was impossible to miss him with Dana Maria tight on his arm in the blaze orange dress I had seen earlier.

"Quick work and a leisurely lunch. I like your style, Kya Allen," Jackson said.

"Thank you. And, trust me, you can consider yourself the complete opposite of Fenton Morris," I said.

Jackson's hand brushed the hem of my skirt and found my bare knee. "I hope so. Because there is no way I can play hard to get like him. I'm very upfront and honest about what I want."

I did not move my knee away from the tickling circles he traced. "And, what is it that you want, Mr. McRay? As your agent, I'm here to help," I said.

"I want you on a real date with me tonight. No business. Strictly pleasure."

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fenton

It could not have been something I said. We hardly said anything. After Kya and I made it back safely to the hotel suite, there were hardly any words exchanged. Kisses, cries of pleasure, and climaxes – those were exchanged. I circled the punching bag and reset my feet before attacking with a quick combination. I did not understand women.

One minute, we were laughing over omelets, the next, I had her on a stool in the kitchen, and then everything changed. All I had done was left to shower and Kya changed her mind. The next time I saw her, she was distant, angry, and tried to keep a door between us. How did a woman go from having nothing, not even a scrap of clothing, between our skin to slamming the bathroom door in my face?

I hit hard, then spun and kicked. The bag shuddered, and I reset to do it all over again – anything to drown out the small voice in the back of my head. Something was telling me that Kya felt what I had. One hint of me loving her and Kya Allen had run. It could not be true. I was not falling for her. I was not about to fall for any woman, much less a buttoned-up one like her.

"So, where's my cut?" Kev asked. He appeared well behind the punching bag and out of range. "I hear you did quite well at the fight last night and if my calculations are right, you owe me quite a bit of cash."

"What fight? I didn't have anything scheduled last night," I said.

"Well, nothing that explains the cuts on your knuckles and that huge bruise over your ribs," my coach said.

"Come on, Aldous, you know Vegas can be a rough town. And, us fighters are known to blow off steam," I said.

He caught the bag and held it. "You're damn lucky you didn't get injured or caught."

"He did get caught, I caught him," Kev said. "And, as your manager, I've got to say you should sign with that Kya Allen. Any woman ballsy enough to break into a bare knuckle fight just to keep an eye out for you is worth signing some endorsement deal for."

"You were there?" I asked Kev.

"Of course, and I would have stepped in to shield you from Darius Johnson if our Country Club Princess had not taken care of him first," Kev said. "Seriously, she is shattering that good girl reputation of hers left, right, and center."

"Yeah, she's no saint," I said.

"Oooh, do tell," Kev followed me toward the locker room.

"No way in hell." I tore my gloves off and rinsed off in the shower. I had thought like Kev that maybe Kya was more than her reputation let on. The last 24 hours with her had made me hope. Then again, maybe all she wanted was what most women wanted from me – a wild night with an infamous bad boy. It was easy with me because they assumed I did not feel a thing. I wished I had not felt anything with Kya.

I dressed quickly and slipped out of the gym before Aldous or Kev could corner me again. I needed to see Kya. I wanted to look her in those green eyes and see what she had to say. Was it something I said or did? Or had she just used me like all the other women had? She had said it was nothing to do with business, but I was a fool if I thought that made it mean something.

The cab dropped me off in front of the Tropicana, and I was relieved the paparazzi were busy with some reality television star and her tiny Chihuahua. I was almost to the front doors when I caught sight of Dana Maria in a heated argument with a concierge.

"You can't kick me out and you know it," she said. "You don't have any proof and I could sue you for sexual harassment."

"What is going on?" I asked.

"Sorry, Mr. Morris, she claims to know you. The Tropicana does not allow solicitations and I hope she has not been bothering you," the concierge said.

"Bothering me? It looks like you're bothering the lady. What is this? How dare you accuse her of prostitution." My fingers curled into fists.

"No, Fenton, don't bother. It happens all the time," Dana Maria said. "Just because I choose not to change into plain clothes to go to work."

"Exactly. Take your work elsewhere," the concierge said.