Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
"But Nala didn't, I'm guessing?"
Nala gave her uncle a solemn shake of her head. "She was a bad lady. She lied to Mama."
Hiding a smile at the little girl's air of gravitas - Nala was fast becoming Damen's mini-me through and through - he asked with equal solemnity, "And you knew that how?"
"The lady didn't have a ring. Not like Mama and Papa."
Acheron was more than impressed. "That's amazing detective work, little one." A crooked smile flitted over his lips as he met his friend's gaze over Nala's head. You lucky bastard. Damen definitely wouldn't need to worry about any idiot turning his daughter's head.
Damen's smirk said it all. She's my child, after all.
A group of kids came to invite Nala to join them in a different interactive zone - one where parents and kids partnered up as they went through an obstacle course. "You guys go ahead," Acheron said swiftly. "I'll, ah, sit this one out." He had finally noticed the way some of the other women were looking at him, and it made him feel like he had a large-ass target on his back.
Retreating to the sidelines, he camped on one of the metal seats while watching Damen and his young family skip over old tires.
Years ago, Damen Leventis had been Europe's most eligible bachelor, infamous for bedding only the most stunning women and throwing the wildest parties in the continent. But then an American schoolteacher entered Damen's life, and everything had changed. There was an air of contentment about Leventis that Acheron once thought only belonged to middle-aged family men trapped in a continuous cycle of suburban mediocrity. Late-night outings were replaced with concocting bedtime stories as they tucked their daughter to sleep, and Friday evenings such as tonight were spent in play zones and kid-friendly restaurants.
That was all well and good for married men like Damen Leventis, Acheron considered broodingly, but why the hell had he ended up starting his weekend in the same fucking manner?
It was when the four of them got together again over dinner that Mairi noticed the frown that seemed permanently etched on Acheron's forehead. "Is everything okay? It's unlike you to look so troubled."
"He's traumatized," Damen quipped before Acheron could answer. "He's had his first taste of defeat in a woman's hands, and he's been losing sleep over it."
Acheron scowled. "Fu—-" Mairi and Damen simultaneously shot him warning glares, and he hastily amended himself, saying awkwardly instead, "Fudge off."
Nala's eyes went wide. "That's Papa's favorite expression, too." And as if to demonstrate, she said in a voice distinctly resembling her billionaire's father when he was in a temper, "Fudge off, Manolis. You're just as pudding-whipped as I am."
There were two full seconds of silence at their table, and then the adults were bursting into laughter while Nala beamed proudly at her handiwork. It always made the little girl feel good when she made other people smile and laugh.
After dinner, the couple invited Acheron for a nightcap at their place and he found himself agreeing without understanding why. He only had to check his phone's inbox, and there'd be scores of events to choose from, all of them promising the best and most salacious kind of entertainment that money could buy.
So why was it he was here again, playing third wheel while on his fifteenth day of involuntary celibacy?
After kissing his daughter good night, Damen checked his emails on his phone as he headed down to rejoin the others, and he ended up almost bumping into his wife at the foot of the stairs. "What the—-" He automatically curved an arm around a sheepish-looking Mairi to keep her from falling.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think it was right to intrude on Acheron." She nodded towards the balcony, where the other billionaire stood alone, his clasped hands poised over the glass rails. "I could be wrong," she murmured, "but I think I wouldn't be as much help as you'd be with whatever's bothering him."
Damen grimaced. "Are you saying you want us to have some kind of Brokeback moment?"
Mairi sent her husband a chiding glance. "Be serious, will you? Can't you see how troubled the man is?" She pushed him towards the balcony. "Now go and help him." There were things that men would only feel fit to confide to other men, and it was especially true with people like Acheron Simonides, whose rough childhood had kept him from being acquainted with the nurturing touch of the fairer sex.
The sound of footsteps had Acheron turning away from Miami's skyline, and to his surprise, he found Damen alone, holding two cans of beer. He murmured his thanks as the other man handed him one, and as he pulled the tab open, he asked, "Mairi?"
"She'll, err, join us in a bit."
Something about Damen's tone had Acheron arching a brow, and when his friend shrugged in response, it might as well be an admission that his hunch was right. "Do I appear so pathetic," he asked in a mutter of self-disgust, "that your wife thinks I'd need your manly shoulder to cry on?"