Billionaire's Second Chance

by Claire Adams

  "You're drunk, Mr. Morris, and not making any sense," Jackson said.

  "Then, let me be clear. The lady can do a lot better than you."

  "The lady can speak for herself," I said. "Where are your friends, Fenton? There was quite a party looking for you earlier. A bunch of dancers wanting to take you out dancing."

  "Friends? Those are my sister's friends," Fenton said. His blue eyes crashed into mine. He reached out and grabbed a handful from the salad the waiter had only moments ago slid into place. "Ugh, bitter and too lemony. Let me guess, the lady that can speak for herself let this joker order for her?"

  "This joker is asking you to leave," Jackson said. He stood up and flagged down the maître d' and security.

  "Come on, Kya, you're an order-for-yourself kind of a girl. You're not all of this. And, you certainly don't want to be with him," Fenton said.

  The whole restaurant was looking. My cheeks were bright red flames, but I kept my voice steady. "What did you mean those were your sister's friends?"

  "So, you really didn't know?" Fenton asked.

  "Sir, come with me," the security guard interrupted, latching a large hand on Fenton's arm.

  Fenton yanked his arm free easily and turned back to me. This time, the security guard grabbed both his biceps and tried to turn him toward the door. I stood up to stop him, I needed to hear what Fenton had to say, but Jackson shielded me from the scene with one long arm.

  "Don't worry about Mr. Morris, Kya. He was just leaving," Jackson said. "Maybe you should have taken me up on my earlier offer of room service."

  "Sure, golfer, let security take care of your dirty work while you try to work your game on her," Fenton said. "I should have known you wouldn't stand up to me yourself."

  Jackson's jaw clenched. "Don't listen to him, Kya. He's drunk and doesn't know what he's saying."

  "Oh, so now you're telling her what to listen to and what to think?" Fenton asked. "How about she hears a story about this woman I once knew. I knew this woman who slipped into an underground bare-knuckle boxing match. And instead of getting scared and trying to get out, instead of freezing up and waiting for someone to help her, she was just fine."

  "Come on, Kya, let me take you back to my hotel. We can get a bite to eat in peace there," Jackson said.

  He nodded to the security guard, who wrapped his arms around Fenton's chest from behind and tried to haul him out of the restaurant. Fenton broke free of the larger man's hold in one move and spun to face him. I heard a sharp gasp before Fenton threw the first punch, and then realized it was me that had made the sound.

  The fight slammed into a nearby table and the restaurant erupted as people fled their expensive dinners. The security guard was almost twice Fenton's size, the shape and bulk of a retired football player. He lunged at Fenton, who spun aside and chopped him on the back of the neck. The guard stumbled. Despite his obvious intoxication, Fenton was in control of the fight, until the guard turned around a brandished a Taser.

  He aimed at Fenton, and I jumped forward to stop him. Jackson wrapped an arm around my waist to lift me back. I thrashed against him, trying to kick the weapon out of the guard's hand. A camera flash dazed us all and afterward, Fenton stepped back and raised his hands. He turned and walked out of the restaurant unharmed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kya

  I curled up in the corner of the white sofa and tried to ignore the red wine stains on the rug. Luckily, there was no sign of Dana Maria or any of her friends besides the smears of body glitter and red spills they had left behind. The plate of French fries I ordered from room service sat untouched in front of me. I was frozen in horror, my eyes locked to the screen of my laptop.

  The photograph had gone viral within seconds of Fenton leaving the restaurant. The snapshot showed the angry security guard aiming the Taser at Fenton, Fenton facing him with fists raised, Jackson trying to pull me out of danger, and me kicking my black heels at the security guard. The savage look on my face held me captivated.

  "In a strange turn of the tables, admirer Kya Allen tries to defend the top ranked MMA fighter Fenton Morris from a threatened security guard while nice-guy Jackson McRay tries to save her from getting tasered, too."

  The story was all over social media. Speculation was rampant about my relationship to Fenton as well as his reason for crashing my date with Jackson. It was a drama-filled love triangle we had served up to the paparazzi on a silver platter. Everyone pointed out the picture said it all – Fenton's blue eyes on me instead of the imminent threat of the Taser and me fighting off the most eligible bachelor gentleman to come to the rescue of the infamous womanizer.

  I shifted my study of the photograph to Fenton and could not ignore the flutter of excitement in my stomach. He had come to the restaurant specifically to disrupt my date with Jackson. A man did not do something like that if he did not care about the woman. Cell phone footage was staring to roll out of Fenton telling me "You certainly don't want to be with him."

  I had not denied it, but then again I had not been given much of a chance to speak. And, I hadn’t figured out what Fenton meant about his sister's friends.

  I sprang off the couch and went to open my own bottle of red wine. Luckily, the dancers hadn’t raided the wine refrigerator and I did not care what vintage I was drinking. Had Fenton just done it for the publicity?

  An official statement had been issued by the MMA putting Fenton on probation. There was no way he pulled the stunt at the restaurant to further his career.

  I glanced at the door to Fenton's room before I returned to the sofa. He had beaten me back to the suite and was passed out cold when I arrived. Somehow, I was sure he already knew about the probation. For all his wild acting, Fenton was a professional. That is why he raised his hands and left the restaurant before things went any farther.

  My phone rang and I picked it up. "Go ahead and give me the lecture, boss. I deserve it. Our clients get the headlines, not us."

  "Lecture you? Honey baby, if I was there I would kiss you!" James crowed. "The publicity is through the roof! The vitamin people are so impressed with the stir you've created that they've sweetened the deal."

  "Are you serious? I thought the whole thing was shot and you're telling me it’s better than ever?" I asked.

  "Shh, pretend like you meant all of this to happen. Pretend you did it all on purpose. I've been telling everyone you are my protégé and that I taught you everything you know. Don't make me look bad now, baby," James said.

  "Because only you would start a fight in a restaurant and almost get your star athlete tasered in order to boost his publicity and get more money for the endorsement deal," I said.

  "Exactly. Keep up the good work, gorgeous!"

  My boss hung up the phone and I closed my eyes. None of this was actually happening. I prayed I would wake up with a bad hangover only to find it was my first night in Vegas. Then, Fenton would be next to me and we would have a chance to start over.

  The knock at the door made me jump a foot into the air. I smoothed down the black dress I still wore and steeled myself to greet the stripper, Dana Maria, and her friends. Instead, my jaw hit the floor when Jackson slipped into the suite and grabbed my hand.

  "I had to come by and see how you are," he said. He kissed the back of my hand and then handed me a box of chocolate-covered strawberries. He then produced a bottle of champagne and two flutes from his pockets. "I hear they go well with champagne and I know you like that, so here I am. I figured dinner got screwed up, so why not skip to dessert?"

  I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. How could I explain to him that Fenton was asleep in the next room? I had to tell him and try to make him believe it was strictly work before Fenton appeared and things got even stranger than earlier.

  Jackson pressed a finger to my lips. "You don't have to say anything. I know you were pursuing Fenton for work. None of what happened tonight was your fault. You had no idea the guy would get crazy possessive of you and stalk
you around Las Vegas."

  He pulled me over to the couch and unwrapped the champagne bottle. The pop of the cork made me wince and when I opened one eye, I immediately looked at Fenton's door. "Jackson, there is something I have to tell you," I said.

  "I'm telling you, Kya, there is no need to apologize. All I ask is that you taste one of these strawberries and have a sip of champagne. I hear it is the perfect combination," he said.

  He lifted a strawberry to my mouth and I was forced to take a bite. Then, he handed me a champagne flute. I tried not to gulp it down and let the sweet oblivion help me escape my awkward reality.

  "Delicious right?"

  "Now, please, Jackson, I have to tell you something about Fenton," I said.

  "No, don't worry. All I'm interested in is us," Jackson said. He leaned in and dropped a sweet kiss onto my still fizzy lips.

  "It looks like all you're interested in is dying," Fenton interrupted. He stumbled against the doorframe of his bedroom. "Stand up, McRay, there's no armed security guard to do your dirty work for you this time."

  "What the f?" Jackson said. "He's staying here? You've got to be kidding me. What does it take to get a minute alone with you?"

  "I'm sorry, Jackson. My company put us up here in the hopes of convincing him to take the deal," I said.

  "Come on, sweetheart, don't lie to the poor man," Fenton said. He gave me a wicked wink. "The suite was your idea, and it has been a sweet deal for both of us."

  Jackson jumped up from the couch and squared off in front of Fenton. I was shocked that Jackson would willingly fight Fenton when I saw Fenton's eyes glaze over and his body sway.

  "Stop it right now, both of you. Fenton, you're drunk, and, Jackson, you know he's in no shape to fight you or anybody," I said.

  "He's been asking for a fight since the first night we met. You just strolled up and pulled her away from me. I bet you're not even really interested in her; you just want to mess with me. I know your type, always trying to get revenge on people who are better than you," Jackson said.

  "That's enough." I pointed to the door. "He's not out to get you, this has nothing to do with you. And, it has nothing to do with me, either. Fenton's just making sure he keeps up his reputation, you know, the lone wolf that doesn't need anyone. You need to leave; you need to go pass out. Goodnight."

  I put my hands on my hips and waited. Jackson glowered at Fenton. I was surprised when his look extended to me and felt relieved when he finally turned and headed out the door.

  "Kya, I gotta tell you, I gotta say… I'm going to be sick," Fenton said. He rushed into his room and dove into the bathroom.

  I cringed at the sounds I heard, but could not in good conscience retreat to my room and shut the door. Instead, I grabbed a large bottle of water from the refrigerator, found a bottle of aspirin, and followed him in.

  "Are you alright? How much did you have to drink?" I asked.

  Fenton shook his head slowly, "I'm fine. Just mixed my liquors. Should have stayed passed out."

  "Why? Why did you decide to do this?" I asked.

  He pushed past me and flopped into his bed. I pulled off his shoes and untangled his legs from the sheet. He took the bottle of water and drank a small sip.

  I thought he had passed out again when he laid a hand on my wrist. "I was mad at you," he said.

  I turned my hand over and squeezed his fingers. "I was mad at you, too, but I didn't get blind drunk."

  "No, you left," he said.

  The way he said it twisted my heart as if I had done something unforgivable. "I didn't leave. I got out of your way. You had a guest, remember?"

  "So, you went off and picked up that pretty boy golfer?" he asked. "You trying to make me jealous?"

  "Jealous? I'm not the one crashing dates around here," I said.

  He smirked even as his eyes drifted closed. "You know you don't have anything to be jealous about. You just wanted me, I just wanted you."

  I fought the urge to brush back his thick black hair. Fenton eased farther back against the pillows and flinched.

  "Here, take some aspirin. You're going to need a clear head when you see the photograph of all of us," I said.

  "One big happy family?" he asked.

  "One big pissed off security guard," I said. "And, it's all over social media."

  "Don't care about that," he muttered. "Just know I've seen guys like Jackson before. He looks good, but he's rotten. He only wants one thing."

  "To ruin your career?" I asked. "Oh, wait, that's you."

  Fenton opened his eyes. "Let me guess, I'm on probation."

  "Did you do it on purpose?" I was not sure I wanted to know the answer, but I could not help but ask.

  He shook his head. His eyes never leaving mine. "Why are you still here, Kya?"

  I set the aspirin down on the bedside table and avoided his look. "The probation is nothing. All you have to do is lay low until your next fight and everything will be fine."

  "Seriously. Why are you still here?"

  I looked at Fenton again and could not tell what he was feeling. It was impossible to know if he was pushing me, mocking me, or protecting himself. No matter what way, I was not up to the challenge. Fenton could hurt me too much, I already knew that.

  "I heard from my boss and he says the vitamin people are even more interested now that you've gone viral," I said. "The deal is even better than it was and I have to make sure you consider it."

  "That's it? Just doing your job?"

  "It’s too good to pass up," I said. The deal was so good that it was worth wrecking the scraps of goodwill we had managed to pull back together. He deserved to hear about it, no matter what it did to us.

  "Get out." Fenton turned off the light and rolled away from me. I got up and finally retreated across the suite to my own bedroom.

  Don't be a fool, there is no us, I reminded myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Fenton

  I woke up to my head pounding and my phone ringing. Kya's bedroom door was shut. I would have slammed mine if I could stand the sound. Instead, I answered my phone.

  "It’s me," my sister said.

  "Where are you? I thought you were going to stay here?" I rolled over and blinked at the clock. "You're up early. I thought you would sleep in after your shift."

  "Kinda hard to sleep in at my place," Dana Maria said.

  I sat up and rubbed a hand over my eyes. "Are you still in your car? That's why you were supposed to be staying here. You can't keep doing that, Sis."

  "It’s the best way to save money. And stop giving me advice, Fenton. I've seen your life and I gotta say, I think it’s a bigger mess than mine."

  "That's not fair. You've only seen me a few times. Maybe Vegas isn't bringing out the best in me," I said.

  "Don't blame the town, Fen. And remember, you can't fight everything and everyone," Dana Maria said.

  "Yeah? And who should be the first for me to kiss and make up with?" I thought about our father and how he was never friends with anyone.

  "I saw your picture. Maybe you should start with that girl of yours. She was ready to fight for you. You should return the favor. Anyway, I was just calling to let you know I'm alright. I'll see you around, Fen." She hung up the phone.

  I could not bear to face the bright sunlight of the white decor living room. Still holding my phone, I flopped back in bed to check the damage. The photograph was everywhere. It was great publicity for me despite the probation. It was even great publicity for the golfer; he looked like the hero good guy. I wanted to spit on him. The only thing that stopped me was Kya.

  If Kya had been the untouchable good girl, the Country Club Princess, before, she was done now. All the headlines and captions lambasted her. All the articles talked about her going wild, letting loose, and, my personal favorite, tarnishing her halo. She was in my territory now.

  I would have felt bad for her, if I did not remember catching her with the golfer just outside my bedroom door kissing on the
couch over glasses of champagne. The surge of anger burned off some of my hangover. I got out of bed and marched to her door. What would I say?

  I turned and went to the kitchen to make a hangover cure. I was just choking it down when I noticed the folder and note on the counter:

  I had to tell you about the offer. It is too good to pass up. I understand you want to do everything on your own and that makes sense to me. I'm the same way. That's why I am pursuing other athletes. Now there's no pressure, I'm not depending on you. Make this decision for yourself. – Kya

  I opened the folder. She was right; the deal was very generous. The contract was for a surprisingly long period. It would set me up for long enough to get settled. It would help me survive the ups and downs of my MMA career.

  I tore the contract to shreds.

  Kya hadn’t mentioned anything about us. She had not explained why I caught her kissing Jackson McRay on the sofa. She had very carefully kept work and personal life separated. I should have respected that. It seemed the more I tried to maintain that separation, the worse my life got.

  "Don't have a hangover, do you? Because I'm going to make you drink that egg thing that Aldous always cooks up." Kev let himself into the suite and joined me in the kitchen. "Jesus, what does that little scrap of paper say? Is that a new offer?"

  "I'm not taking it."

  Kev leaned on the kitchen counter. "You didn't think I would reach that conclusion on my own? What's with the shredding?"

  "I just don't want any more distractions. I need to focus on defeating Maxwell Lewis," I said.

  "Oh, right. So it has nothing to do with Kya Allen," Kev said. "I thought you two were becoming a thing."

  "She's only interested in me as a client." I pointed to the scraps of contract and the note.

  Kev read the note and shook his head at me. "You realize she was only doing the right thing. She owed it to you and to her clients to pass along the new offer. Takes integrity to do that even if it jeopardizes her personal interests. I mean, I guess. That's what I hear about integrity, anyway."