The Billionaire's Fake Girlfriend: Part 2 (The Billionaire Saga 2)
I looked down in surprise and quickly maneuvered myself back through the crowd to our table, clutching the waters as Marcus followed with the bottle.
“Not what I had in mind…” Amanda frowned as she took a sip.
“Trust me, I think we need it.” I glanced around at the increasingly raucous bar. “So do you know what you’re going to sing, or—”
Our mouths dropped open in identical looks of shock as Marcus tilted his head back and downed half the bottle in one shot. He lowered it with a gasp but wouldn’t set it down, clutching it between white knuckles as he stared, panting, up at the stage.
“Will that kill him?” Amanda whispered, eyeing the half empty bottle.
“I don’t know,” I whispered back, “Google it.”
She whipped out her phone as I gently tugged the whisky from his stubborn hands. No such luck. He shot me a sarcastic look and took another shot.
“Marcus, seriously,” I was still half-slurring myself and wished I had a firmer platform on which to stand, “you don’t need to do this. I forgive you, okay? We’re in this together.” I playfully punched his shoulder. “I’m your fiancé and I’m going to stick by your side.” I held up my ring. “See this? It means I’m your partner now. Your pretend partner. So I’m here for you, baby.”
He looked once more at the stage, tilting a bit with drunken tunnel vision, and took an automatic step back. But when he turned to me, his eyes were dead clear.
“This is happening.” His voice dropped, and he stared down at the bottle. “I’d do a lot more for you, you know.”
Amanda’s eyebrows shot up, and I bit my lip trying to clear my suddenly blushing face. “Well, in that case, I highly recommend Don’t Stop Believing by Journey. It’s a classic.”
He held up a dismissive hand and snagged the bottle for a final shot.
“Rebecca, I’ve lived this moment in nightmares since I was thirteen.” He turned to the stage with a look of dark determination. “I know what song to sing.”
I kissed him.
“I thought we said no kissing,” he said.
I wrapped my arms around him and gazed into his eyes. “That was for luck.”
He smiled. “Just luck, huh?”
I grinned. “Yeah. Go get ‘em, Tiger.”
With no further ado, he weaved his way through the crowd and stumbled up onto the stage. It was like he’d been called to the chopping block. Kneeling in stained sawdust and staring up at his executioners as we lowered the blade. But he smiled weakly when the crowd gave him their obligatory cheer and took the microphone from the stand.
“This one goes out to my fiancée,” he said softly, locking eyes with mine. “The most beautiful, violent, terrifying, wonderful girl I’ve ever met. This is to our time together, Bex.”
The crowd cheered again and a warm flush spread through my stomach, something that had nothing to do with the booze.
He called me Bex.
Then the lights went dark as a single spotlight shined down on the stage. A hush fell over the crowd. He stood in shadowed silhouette, the single beam of light making a dark halo around his curls. An electric guitar rang out three chords in the sudden silence and he lifted his hand.
That’s when the magic happened…
Crush a bit, little bit, roll it up, take a hit
Feelin’ lit, feelin’ light, 2 AM summer night.
Amanda turned to me in astonishment, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Marcus could do everything else. Of course, he could sing. The crowd began to go wild as he closed his eyes and swayed his body slowly to the music. A single hand still lifted, pointing toward the sky.
People told me slow my roll, I'm screaming out fuck that
Imma do just what I want lookin’ ahead no turnin’ back
If I fall if I die, know I lived it to the fullest