The Billionaire's Gamble

Chapter 11

“Evie?”Brent says. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I’m too surprised to even answer. This must be a nightmare. Or some crazy hallucination. Maybe the clouds of smoke in this plane contain LSD. That’s how LSD works right? It has to be. Because this… This is not real.

I haven’t seen Brent since he and Cheryl had broken the news to me of their infidelity, of the fact that our wedding was not going to happen, and also could I please get my stuff out of their apartment? As the reality of the situation starts to sink in and I realize that I’m not going to snap awake, my surprise begins to fade. And anger sets in.

But before I can launch into him, Brent raises a hand and gestures for someone behind me. “Security?” he calls. “She’s not supposed to be here.”

Nick, for once completely absent from my mind, charges suddenly back onto center stage. He steps swiftly between me and Brent, towering over my ex, his face twisted with fury.

“Back off, asshole. She has every right to be here.”

Unfortunately Brent isn’t smart enough to back down. He glares coolly up into Nick’s flashing eyes. “And who the fuck are you?” he asks.

“I’m—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. I wonder exactly what he was going to say, but there’s no time to dwell on it. Carl and one of his coworkers have descended on us, though they don’t move to collar me just yet. They look between our opposing sides, assessing the situation.

“Actually, it doesn’t matter,” Brent says, waving Nick off. “Security, this is my ex, who’s obviously stalking me.”

“Stalking you?” I repeat, flabbergasted. “How crazy do you think I am?”

“You put a ski pole through my flat-screen.”

Nick turns to me, startled, but I don’t meet his eyes.

“You fucking cheated on me, you sanctimonious prick!”

“Hey I did the right thing and told you about it!”

“Less than a month before our wedding! Don’t you dare try to take the high road here because I’ll push you right off it!”

Brent turns back to Carl. “See,” he says. “She’s unstable. I don’t know how she got on board but she needs to go.”

I cross my arms. “I’m not going anywhere. I had zero clue you’d be here.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, you just happen to be partying with Kara Kon this week. Sorry if it’s hard to believe you got interesting in the two months since I left you.” Then, to Carl, he says, “Look, I’m a guest of Kara’s, and?—”

“Actually, bro. You’re my guest,” Dax says. The basketball player looks reluctant to add himself to the mess but does so anyway. “And she was pretty damn surprised to see me. I’m guessing she didn’t know.”

Brent looks pissed that his client is butting in, but for the first time he appears to doubt that I’m stalking him. Which… God, as if. How could he be so arrogant?

“What are the odds, man?” he asks Dax. “I’ve been posting about this trip all week.”

“I don’t follow you anymore, idiot,” I say with a satisfied sneer. “I blocked your ass ages ago.”

“She’s with me. And I’m here on business,” Nick growls. “I certainly have no fucking reason to come find you.”

“And, again, jackass, who the fuck are you?” he asks, stepping toward Nick.

Nick’s eyes flash black, like a shark’s. They don’t actually change from their brown hue of course, but in an instant any humanity that lurks behind them is gone. He moves forward and I know I’m about to see a repeat of what happened in the arcade on St. Mark’s.

I react quicker than I thought possible, shoving myself between them and putting a hand on both of their chests.

“Stop it!” I demand. I whirl on Nick. He doesn’t look at me. Those impossibly dark eyes are still burning deep holes into Brent’s face.

“Nick,” I say. When he doesn’t respond, I reach up and touch his face, directing his eyes to me.

I’m almost afraid to have that gaze turned on me, but the instant his browns meet mine they soften and the Nick I know (and usually like) is back. In place of anger is deep concern.

“We have a job to do,” I say low enough so that Brent can’t hear me. “If we get kicked off this plane, it’ll all have been for nothing.”

“We can leave right now,” Nick says without missing a beat. “There are other DJs. You don’t have to go through this.”

I’m shocked Nick would even suggest such a thing. Would he really risk the future of the Seafarer for me?

Even though a moment ago I was ready to hightail it out of here, now my heart hardens into resolve. “Absolutely not,” I say. “He isn’t fucking this up for us.”

I whirl on my heel. “We’re staying so I’d suggest you get off now if you don’t want a daily reminder of what an absolute piece of shit you are. Because trust me. I’ll be bringing it up.”

“We’re not going anywhere either,” Brent spits back.

Wait. We’re?

As if to answer my question, that goddamn curtain parts once again and my heart plummets when I see Cheryl standing white-faced in the doorway.

“Come here, babe,” Brent says, reaching out an arm to her.

My former best friend and I stare each other down for a long moment. She has the decency to look embarrassed. Even though looking back now there was a ton wrong with our relationship, Cheryl and I still have shared a lot since college. So many nights out and parties and sleepovers… We’ve met each other’s families, shared deep secrets, comforted each other in tough times. To be betrayed by a lover is one thing, by a best friend is unthinkable.

But then Cheryl lets her blonde features ice over and she flounces across the VIP section to take her place next to Brent. I catch her eyes freeze on Nick for a moment and I feel a surge of pleasure. Here’s one man you won’t have falling over you. For all his faults, Nick isn’t easily swayed by big boobs and slinky clothes.

I think.

“Nice sweats,” Cheryl says. “Aren’t those your aunt’s hand-me-downs?”

They are. One of the innumerable bad things about having a former best friend as an enemy? They have infinite ammunition.

With security fading into the background and his initial plan a failure, Brent jumps at this latest humiliation. “Jesus, Evie,” he says. “Don’t you know where you are? You never did know how to dress.”

I hate them both, but the double attack still stabs my heart. I had never felt as fashionable (and was definitely never as wealthy) as the crowd Brent hung around. I suppose in that regard Cheryl makes sense for him. She would never leave the house in anything other than designer clothes.

“I’m sorry, you’re making fun of her clothes?” Nick snaps, like he wasn’t just saying basically the same thing in the car. “What the fuck are you even wearing?”

Brent is wearing a sideways snapback with the Celtics logo on it and a big puffy coat that wouldn’t look out of place in a music video, which I suppose is why he chose to wear it. He’d always leaned toward preppy styles — sweaters and polos — so seeing him look like a wannabe rapper is ridiculous.

“It’s fashion, bro,” Brent says. “Why are you dressed like my grandfather?”

Nick isn’t the only one here wearing a suit, but he’s definitely the only one wearing a tie and dress shoes.

“He looks professional,” I say sharply. “It’s better than dressing like you’re nineteen and not almost thirty.”

“At least I look like I belong here. I mean, seriously, who the fuck would wear a full sweatsuit to Paris? You look like you’re about to pass out on your couch after a six-pack of beer.”

There’s a sharp clearing of a throat to our right and we all turn as one to see Kara Kon and Dalton standing just inside the velvet ropes. Neither of them look amused. Dalton because he’s guessing correctly that we’re on the verge of tanking a massive deal for his star. And Kara?

Well Kara is raising one unamused eyebrow at Brent because she’s standing there in a fuchsia pink sweatsuit.

Granted, she’s paring it with what looks like about fifty grand worth of diamonds, and it’s definitely made by some high-end designer, but my outfit automatically leaps up at least two points in cool just by standing next to her. It almost looks like we agreed to match.

That thought definitely crosses everyone’s mind. And not just those involved in our confrontation. Unfortunately, this interruption has made me take a step back and now I’m realizing that all of Kara’s inner circle has heard every single word of the drama and is hanging on each development with baited breath.

I guess we were never going to blend in well anyway.

Everyone waits for what Kara is going to say, even Brent, who’s gone an ashen shade of white.

Kara glances around at all of our faces, takes a moment, and then decides to ignore whatever is happening here. She gives Nick a polite nod and goes to sit in the center of the couch with the best view down the length of her plane.

Brent and Cheryl throw dirty looks our way but take the opportunity to dip out as well, fleeing to a safe couch while an unamused-looking Dax goes to sit beside Kara.

Dalton ushers us to the other side of the VIP section. He looks strained, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” he demands.

“Long story,” I mutter. Now that the immediate threat has receded all of my previous exhaustion has returned. It doesn’t help that with Kara on board the party has officially kicked into high gear. The music only gets louder as the MC comes on to hype up the crowd.

“ARE YOU FUCKERS READY TO GO CRAZY?” he screams into the mic.

Not at all. I’m ready to lie down and sleep.

“Well I can’t help you two if I don’t know what’s going on,” Dalton says, exasperated.

“Isn’t there somewhere quieter we can speak?” Nick asks. He can read my exhaustion plainly. His own is still etched with concern for me.

Dalton nods and escorts us behind the curtain, where there is a hall with several closed doorways. Nick heads toward the one furthest in the back, but Dalton shakes his head.

“Here,” he says, opening a door to a side room that’s small and stuffed with luggage. “They’re shooting in the bedroom. Guys will be setting up in there in a minute.”

The noise is somewhat quieter back here with the door closed but not by much. Dalton turns on us expectantly, hands on his hips.

“Okay, what gives?” he asks.

“That guy in the puffy coat?” I say wearily. “That’s my ex-fiancé. The girl with him is my ex-best friend. That’s about all there is to it.”

Dalton stares at us for a beat as if expecting an “April Fools”. It doesn’t come. He wipes his face with a large hand and looks up at the ceiling. Then he says, less to us than to himself, “Maybe something out there just doesn’t want this shit to happen.”

“It’ll be fine,” Nick says forcefully. But then his eyes flick to me. “Right?”

I don’t know. The shock is starting to set in. My nerves, so frayed already over the past day, are starting to catch up to me. I just shake my head helplessly in response.

“Okay,” Nick says. “How do we get him kicked out of here?”

Dalton shakes his head. “Doesn’t work like that, bud. Dax is dating Kara, and anyone Dax wants here is golden.”

Do I detect a slightly sullen tone in the younger man’s voice? I don’t think so, but I also don’t have the energy to dwell on it for long.

Nick turns to me and puts a comforting hand on my arm. “Then I think you need to leave, Evie,” he says seriously. As I start to protest, he says over me, “It’s okay. I’ll be here. I can make it work.”

“I can’t just run away,” I say, even though I really want to.

“And I hate to be a downer,” Dalton says, “but Kara specified both of you. I’m not sure I can keep the deal alive if one of you backs out.”

“Goddammit,” Nick curses. “Why is that girl?—”

The tension on Dalton’s face vanishes instantly, and he cuts Nick off. “I wouldn’t say another word if you still want me on your side, man.”

The two men face off for a moment, but then Nick softens. “I’m just concerned about her,” he says gruffly. “This isn’t a good environment.”

“It’s only for two weeks,” I say firmly. “And we can try to avoid them as much as possible.”

But we all know the truth: that’s easier said than done. If Dax and Kara are going to be joined at the hip then you can bet Brent and Cheryl will never be too far behind. I’ll bet they’re out there right now doing shots, having a blast, and taking plenty of pictures for social media. We should be out there too, but I just can’t bring myself to face them right now.

“Can we hang out back here?” I ask, my eyes tracing the floor.

Dalton looks like he’s about to say what I already know, that hiding in the back isn’t going to help this deal at all, but Nick cuts him off. “You can do whatever you want. We’ll stay here. I’m sure Dalton is needed out there?”

It’s his cue to leave, and he wisely does so, shutting the door firmly behind him.

There aren’t any chairs in here so I sink down onto the floor and wrap my arms around my knees. I’m embarrassed and tired and I have no idea how I’m going to get through two more weeks of this.

Nick stands by the door. He’s biting his lip, confliction written in broad lines across his face.

“You can go out to the party if you want,” I say. “It’s probably for the best if one of us is out there.”

“No way,” Nick says immediately. “It’s both of us or none at all.”

There’s an extended beat of silence. Nick wants to say something, and I wait, letting him find his words.

Finally he says, “Evie, I am truly sorry for how I acted in the car. There is no excuse for it, and I promise I will never treat you like that again.”

I blink, stunned. I’d completely forgotten our fight.

“You’re obviously going through a lot,” I say, trying to be nice.

He shakes his head once, sharply, the seriousness in his eyes betraying the gravity of his feelings. “No excuses,” he says again.

“I accept your apology,” I say. Then, “You really were acting like a dick.”

His smile mirrors mine. “I apologized!” he says. “Must you twist the knife?”

“Absolutely,” I reply. My eyes narrow. “And what, pray tell, happened to never apologizing? I believe a wise man once told me that they make you look weak.”

“Did he now? That guy sounds like a tool.”

“You have no idea.”

We grin at each other for a moment, and then he sits down on the floor next to me. Before I can help it, I rest my head against his shoulder. The music is pounding outside, enemies are all around, but here together in the little storage room Nick and I have united as a team yet again. And, beyond all reason, everything feels like it’s going to be okay.