Marry Me Again: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Nicole Snow

  It's early afternoon when there's a slap at my door. I wake up, rub my eyes, wondering why these screwed up sleep schedules always cause so much grog.

  “Yeah?” I pop my bedroom door open and Evie pushes her way inside, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

  “Jesus, you're home early, aren't you? What happened to the weekend getaway?”

  “Your father and I decided we had more important business here,” she says, flashing me a wink. “He was here last night, wasn't he?”

  I try to play dumb until she looks at me sharply, his name written in her eyes. Chris.

  I shrug. “I don't know what you're –“

  “Oh, shut it, little girl. Don't play stupid with me. I know my son's been sniffing around you since the moment he showed up here for dinner. Winston told me everything.”

  Damn it. Big mouth should be our gate guy's middle name, but I'm floored that he's telling Evie crap behind dad's back.

  So what if he was here? Why's it any of her business?

  I shoot her a dirty look. It takes a lot of courage because Evie is kinda scary when she gets ramped up, smiling like an over-painted mannequin.

  It's my room. I don't have to take this shit.

  “We can talk about this later. You've got the wrong idea about Chris and me. He came by because I asked him to help with my project, this thing I'm doing for school about Navy SEALs.”

  “Ha! You really expect me to believe that?” She throws her head back and drums her bright green nails on my dresser. “I saw exactly how he looked at you during dinner last week. Don't you dare play coy with me, little missy. I've had years of practice dealing with my son's bullshit, and you're not half the liar he is.”

  Evie stomps up, wild eyed, and gets in my face. My instinct is to slap her, but honestly, I'm too freaked out.

  It's like having a lioness rush you, a full on psychopath letting down her guard.

  Stumbling backwards, I crash against the wall, right as she reaches up and grabs my face. “Are you two fucking? Is that why he keeps coming home? It can't be for me. He doesn't give a shit about his own poor mother.”

  “Christ, no!” That's it.

  Fumbling, I manage to get my hand up, and slam it across Evie's cheek so hard I'm surprised her head isn't spinning.

  She staggers back a couple paces, feeling the burn on her cheek with one hand.

  “What the hell is wrong with you!?” I shout, so loud the servants downstairs can probably hear it. “He's just my stepbrother. Nothing happened between us, and nothing ever will. I just wanted to know him, feel him out about my thesis. It's not like there's some kind of crazy crush going on here.”

  Okay, that last part was a lie, but I don't care. When you're dealing with lunatics, anything is on the table to keep them in line, and right now Evie has that vacant, scary look in her eyes.

  I wonder if she's back on drugs. If all the weird crap I've read about in the tabloids, the stuff that caused her career to fly off the rails forever, is true.

  “We'll just see about that,” she snaps. Then her hand flies up and she aims a shaky finger at me. “I'm watching you, Cordelia. I'm not going to let you kids screw this up. I've worked too hard to get where I'm at, and I'm so fucking close to having it all fixed.”

  The door bangs open gently against the wall. Dad looks in on us, an awkward smile on his face.

  Great timing. He's missed the whole twisted blowout, and I'm too gobsmacked by what just happened to tell him his new wife is a psychopath on the spot.

  “Delia! I hope we didn't ruin any parties you had planned with the early return.”

  I force a smile and shake my head. Evie shoots me one more look like a scolded cat, and then slips past us without saying a word. Dad rubs her shoulder on her way out, before she throws him off, then he comes in and sits on my bed.

  “How's the big project going? You need any help?”

  I roll my eyes. Dad used to help me with my homework when I was little, cutting in all the private tutors he hired. They probably had the easiest jobs in the world with my father's micromanagement.

  He still hasn't given up the old habit. I have a feeling I'll be sixteen forever in his eyes, even though I'm about to graduate college and get an adult job – if I can get my honors degree locked down. And right now, that's looking like a big if.

  “I'm working through it,” I lie, trying to forget the crap that's just happened. “Did you really cut things short for business? Or is there another reason?”

  I sit down on the bed next to him, laying one hand on his shoulder. He looks so tense, and there's a dark, sad shadow under his eyes too. Honestly, I haven't seen him look like this since all the shakeups in the airlines after 9-11, when I was just a little girl.

  Hell, maybe not since mom walked out.

  I know it's her. I want to scream at Evie all over again, ask her why she's such a bitch, anything to stop her before she breaks my poor dad's heart all over again. I don't think he'll survive another breakup.

  “It's for Evie's sake. Travel can be...very taxing on her,” he says softly, before turning to face me and giving me a huge, business-like smile. “Hey, I've got a few company passes for Las Vegas next weekend. Interested? Maybe a little fun will help you get your creative juices going.”

  Vegas. I've only been there a few times, and never as a grown woman, willing and able to let loose and go crazy.

  “You know, I think I'll take you up on that. Maybe I'll see if Marnie wants to come along so I have somebody to go with.”

  He stands up and slaps me on the back. “That's my girl! I'll have the arrangements ironed out for you in the next couple days. Until then, try to get some studying in before the trip. You're on the home stretch now!”

  We flash grins and I give him a quick hug, holding on a little longer before he heads out the door. “Dad, if there's ever anything insane happening, you need to tell me. Don't bottle it all up.”

  He shakes his head furiously. “No, honey, everything's fine. It's a marriage, after all. I promised her I'd make this work, and I know in my heart she's the only one I want to spend my life with. That's our problem, not yours, and I'm going to figure it out. Thanks, though.”

  He squeezes my hand one more time and then he's gone.

  I can hardly write. My thesis drags. I want to pick up my laptop and hurl it out the window, anything to break this funk, this frustration, my asshole stepbrother has woven across everything SEAL-related.

  The week goes by in a blur. There's drinks with Marnie on Tuesday, and a whole lot of jogging and notes that never lead anywhere in between.

  I consider my alternatives. There's some huge new startups coming into town, and I almost think about using them for a thesis, assuming I can schmooze my way into the tech moguls in the making for an exclusive feature. But then I hear another girl under Professor Thosser, Georgette, is already on it, and she's got an uncle in venture capital.

  Damn it! All I've got is this SEAL thing I can't stop researching. I don't know why I'm continuing to read books and articles, especially when Chris' room is empty every night, a cruel reminder that our love-hate thing ended just as quickly as it started.

  His empty room taunts me, reminds me how dumb I was to try to play truth or dare, and how big a jackass he is for running away.

  On the other hand, maybe he's right.

  I'm already too attached. I can't stop thinking about him. My hand floats over his number at night, glowing on my phone, aching to send him one more text to ask him what's going on.

  But I can't. I won't.

  I don't chase guys, much less an arrogant creep so full of himself who also happens to be “family.”

  Vegas can't come soon enough. I pack my bags Thursday night, ready for my flight early Friday morning. I'm about to wash up and check everything over one more time when I hear two men laughing, coming up the stairs.

  I stick my head out my bedroom door and do a double take. It's dad and Chris together, smiling at each other like
they're old business buddies.

  What the hell's he doing back in this house?

  Stepping out into the hall, dad looks up, notices me, and smiles. “There's my girl! So glad you're still awake, Cordelia, I have something to tell you.”

  Chris' eyes light up when he sees me. He stops and stares, taking me in, as if we haven't seen each other for months. I don't get it. His dragon green eyes make me feel...well, more than I really want.

  “What? What's going on?” I whisper, bracing myself for another blow to the stomach.

  “Chris is taking a week off from the Navy for some R and R. You said your friend Marnie couldn't make it, so I've decided you should go together. Think of him like a personal bodyguard.” My dad reaches up and slaps Chris on the shoulder.

  The floor falls out underneath me. I'm gutted. I shoot the asshole SEAL a sharp look and can't resist cocking my head.

  “Really? I thought you had so much to do on your base? Isn't that what you told me when you stormed out last week?” I'm giving him crap, and he knows it. “I thought the last place you'd want to be is spending time with us.”

  He chuckles and walks up to me, puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me in. “Come on. You think I'd pass up a free fucking trip to Vegas? You're the one who told me you'd keep your hands to yourself. Play nice.”

  He squeezes me tight as he whispers the last part into my ear, and then releases me. I have to lock my knees not to fall backwards against the wall.

  What the hell kind of game is he playing?

  “Vegas can be a dangerous place, especially for a young girl traveling by herself,” dad says. Like I don't already know. “He's not there to be your shadow, Cordelia, but we'll all feel better with Chris along if anything happens.”

  “Yeah, sis, I can handle all of it. Dudes trying to spike your drink, biker gangs, cartels, mafia card dealers. Just say the word if you're in trouble.” He gives me a wink. “Who knows, maybe I can help you with that project your old man's telling me about. Hang with me in Vegas and you'll find out how SEALs play.”

  Butterflies shoot through my stomach. Yeah, right.

  Actually, he's being a total dick, teasing me like this, but in the back of my mind, he isn't completely wrong. He's holding out a carrot. I'm still going to come up with a backup idea, but maybe if I hang around watching him drink and gamble, he'll loosen up, and I'll get something I can use for this SEAL psychology paper.

  My heart skips a couple of beats, and not just because he's suddenly restored hope in my thesis. He's starting to make me think that maybe – just maybe – he wants to bury the hatchet.

  What I can't figure out is why he's so damned enthusiastic all of a sudden. Is it all a show for dad, or did he change his mind about something else too?

  Dad gives me a sour look. I'm sure I look like I'm staring at an oncoming train, frozen in my tracks. “Look, I know this is rather abrupt. If you really don't want your stepbrother around, I'm sure we can figure out a compromise, an alternate itinerary for both of you.”

  Chris pivots, throwing a thick hand on my dad's shoulder. “Bruce, don't worry about it. I'll give her as much space as she needs. Separate rooms. One good dinner and a few drinks are all I really want with my little stepsister anyway. Believe me, I've got my own plans in sin city. I'm not gonna fuck up hers.”

  I shake off the shock and step toward them. “Guys, it's fine. Sorry. It just caught me by surprise.”

  I look at Chris as he flashes me his perfect teeth. It's amazing how he's probably evaded death a dozen times, and still has all his teeth set in a smile so good it burns between my legs.

  What would that perfect mouth feel like anchored between my thighs? I squeeze my knees together as I wonder, trying to blunt the dull ache in my pussy. It's hopeless.

  Jesus, how am I going to survive a week in Vegas alone with this man?

  “I'm happy to hear you say that, honey. You've matured so much.” Dad beams, before he looks at Chris again. “Make sure there's time for breakfast before you two leave tomorrow. She always gets cranky traveling on an empty stomach. As for me, I'll look after your mother.'

  Chris' face darkens. “It's her own damned business to figure out. Nobody else's, Bruce. Not even yours.”

  “She's my wife,” dad says sternly. “I'll do whatever I need to. She always wanted a good family, a tight family.”

  My stepbrother snorts. “Oh, is that what she's been telling you? Fucking chameleon. She'll say whatever it takes to keep the coin flowing, old man.”

  He rubs his fingers together. I can see my dad's obviously displeased, but he's rarely confrontational. It took him months to come after mom about her affair, when the evidence was all over the house.

  Just once, I'd like to see my father show some backbone. He isn't going to start with Chris, though, and I watch him turn and head for the stairs.

  “Have a safe flight, kids. Enjoy yourselves while you're young, before things get very...complicated.” He disappears out of sight, leaving us hanging on that word.

  Enjoy yourselves. His words echo in my head, and I try not to let my brain go to sex.

  Shit. I realize I'm alone with Chris in the hall, a prelude to a week of god knows what with him in Vegas.

  I fold my arms, biting my tongue so I don't let it dart out at him. “I can't believe you're back. What changed your mind?”

  “Vegas, baby. It's as simple as that.” He shrugs like it's nothing. “I like you, Delia, even if you're not cut out to ride my dick. You're honest. You're coming up in the world.”

  My ears perk up. I can't decide if it's the start of another ridiculous joke, or if he's being sweet and sincere. He steps up to me, and I'm ready to jump away from his grasp before he forces me to confront the lava that won't stop rippling in my veins every time I look at him.

  “Besides, babe, somebody needs to come along for the ride and make sure you're not a hot little cocktease for all the wrong guys.” He reaches out, grabs my wrists, and jerks me into him. “I wasn't kidding when I said the city has a dark side. It's not all fun and games. If you've been following the news, you'd have heard all about the new sex trafficking syndicate that's taking chicks without a trace.”

  “I'm too old for a fucking babysitter, Chris. I'm not a little kid.” I spit fire in his face. “Besides, I'm more likely to get held for ransom than shipped off for my looks.”

  He laughs dismissively and hardens his grip. Raw desire wakes in my veins, churns in my whole system, paralyzing me. He's such a bastard.

  I'm not sure what that makes me for wanting him.

  And I still do – even after the insults, the humiliation, the total silence.

  Just once, I want to be the bad girl. I want to be like Marnie, a functioning, sexually alive woman who's ready for all the things a girl ought to be doing at this age, and the badass with his body tucked around mine reminds me that I'm not.

  “Call me your conscience,” he growls, running his stubble across my smooth cheek, melting my panties in the process. “It's your ride, Delia. Your adventure. No bullshit. I'm just along to keep you safe, make sure you don't get yourself into anything you'll regret.”

  Just like that, he lets me go. Every time I fall out of his arms, it's like the earth is crashing back, and I'm having the wind sucked out of me.

  I watch him pick up the bag he's dropped on the floor, and sling it over his powerful shoulder. He doesn't even look at me as he walks by, goes into his room, and closes the door.

  I'm left on the spot, wetter and more confused than ever before.

  I think I just entered a new tier of hell.

  It's a busy morning flight. So busy, in fact, that Chris and I are jammed together in our seats, surrounded by yawning, jabbering businesspeople of every race, gender, and creed.

  I swear Chris splashed something extra in his coffee while he watched me eat my muffin. Probably whiskey.

  Evie took off with dad somewhere this morning before the chauffeur took us to the airport, and I'm
too on edge about the trip to care.

  I want to have fun. I want to sort this crap out with my quite possibly drunken stepbrother. And I really want to forget all the BS that's been plaguing me like the senior thesis and this sadistic crush that won't stop eating my soul.

  He's at my side, dozing in his seat. Or so I think, until we're at twenty-thousand feet.

  “Goddamn it, Charlie...told you about Kirkuk...I told you, you poor dumb bastard. They're coming. They're armed. Where's our fucking backup?” His hand brushes mine.

  My ears perk up. He's babbling in his sleep. He's remembering something awful.

  I lean in, holding my breath, careful not to wake him. Then he jerks, making a sound that's way too loud with my ear close to his face.

  “The fuck?” he growls, a strange smile on his face. “Do you always watch people sleep, creeper girl, or is the flight just that boring?”

  Asshole. I want to punch him in the arm, but the wheels are turning in my head, wondering if he's just given me a piece of his battle trauma.

  “You were having a nightmare,” I tell him, picking up my water and taking a sip. “Does being on this plane remind you of something? You must be having flashbacks from all the stress. I can't imagine what it's like being a SEAL. How do you blow off steam?”

  “Eh, usually just by fucking with gullible little girls like yourself.” His smile breaks into a huge grin. “I said Kirkuk because I knew it'd get you wet. I know you like the news.”

  Bastard! This time, I do form a fist and smash it into his bicep as hard as I can. It's like hitting a wall of pure muscle, sending sheer force back through my knuckles.

  Chris laughs it off like it's nothing. “Come on, babe. Just a little while longer. We'll be in Vegas soon, and you can work that shit out the fun way. You wanna hit the casinos tonight, or what?”

  I roll my eyes. “You're guessing I want to do anything with you. That's an awful big assumption when you're being a total...dick.”

  I hesitate on the last word. Part of me wants to call him a tease, a manwhore, but I don't because I'm afraid of him proving me right. I can't shake the feeling he's still flirting with me, working me over, trying to make me humiliate myself again when I stroke him, or lean in for a kiss.