Page 11 of Grumpy Alien Billionaire

The yacht's engines thrum to life, and we ease away from the marina. I watch Tyler's face as the full moon bathes the deck in silver light. Her skin glows, ethereal, and my breath catches. I've seen a thousand moons in my centuries of life, but none quite like this.

Time to up the ante. I clap twice, sharp and commanding.

Right on cue, four musicians emerge from below deck. The opening notes of "Beyond the Sea" float across the waves, carriedby violin and cello, piano and acoustic guitar. The melody wraps around us like silk.

I rise from my chair and extend my hand to Tyler. "Would you care to dance?"

Her eyes light up, and for a moment, I see her start to reach for me. Then she stops. Her gaze sharpens, turns calculating. The innocent farm girl facade drops away, revealing something far more intriguing beneath.

"Maybe," she says, tilting her head. "If you'll tell me how you're still alive after flying face first into a telephone pole at a hundred miles per hour."

CHAPTER 5

TYLER

Lanz regards me for what feels like an eternity, his golden eyes unblinking, his expression unreadable. I want to say yes to the dance, to let him sweep me across the deck of this ridiculous yacht, to forget about the car crash and the sunglasses embedded in the pole and justfeelsomething. But I can’t. Not yet. My hands are trembling, and I clench them into fists to steady myself.

He claps his hands again, sharp and commanding, and the musicians vanish like they were never there. The sudden silence is deafening. Lanz sits back down, his movements deliberate, his face serious now. The playful glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by something heavier.

“Very well,” he says, his voice low, almost solemn. “I will not lie to you, Tyler. You are not the first woman I’ve brought on this yacht.”

I nod, trying to keep my face neutral, but the words sting more than I want to admit. Of course he’s had other women here. He’s Alonzo Ramone, billionaire playboy. I knew that going in. Still, hearing it out loud feels like a punch to the gut.

“But,” he continues, leaning forward, his gaze locking onto mine, “you are the first woman I will reveal my secret to. My greatest secret, for I have many.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. My mind races, trying to guess what he’s about to say. Is he a spy? A criminal? Some kind of superhero? My imagination runs wild, but nothing prepares me for what comes next.

“I,” he says, pausing dramatically, “am an alien.”

I blink. Once. Twice. My brain short-circuits. “An… alien?” I repeat.

He nods, his expression dead serious. “Yes. From a planet called Vakuta. I’m not human, Tyler. I never have been.”

I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. My first instinct is to laugh, to tell him he’s joking, but the look on his face stops me. He’s not kidding. Not even a little. My mind flashes back to the car crash, the way he walked away without a scratch, the sunglasses in the pole. It all clicks into place, and my stomach drops.

“Prove it,” I say, my voice shaky but firm.

He raises an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re braver than I thought.”

Before I can respond, he stands, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. He unbuttons his shirt, revealing a chest that’s… not human. Red scales glint in the moonlight, catching the light like polished gemstones. My breath catches in my throat.

“Still want to dance?” he asks, his voice soft, almost teasing.

I can’t speak. I can’t move. All I can do is stare.

"This reveal will be more...dramatic," he says.

A soft click echoes across the deck. The air around his face shimmers like heat waves rising from summer pavement. My mouth drops open as his perfect features dissolve into something else entirely. Red scales catch the moonlight,arranged in intricate patterns across prominent brow ridges. Those golden eyes remain the same, but now they seem more natural set in this alien face.

The strange thing is, it fits. The too-perfect human mask he wore before - that's what seems fake now. No stubble, no blemishes, no changing expressions. This face, with its scaled texture and sharp angles, makes more sense.

My hand reaches out. I want to touch those scales, to feel their texture under my fingertips. Heat floods my cheeks as I realize I'm still attracted to him. Maybe even more now, knowing he trusted me with this secret.

"My real name is Lanz," he says, his voice deeper, richer somehow. "And my mission is to protect the human timeline at all costs."

The formal way he says it, like he's making a declaration, should probably frighten me. Instead, my heart races with excitement. All those romance novels I've read, all those fantasies about mysterious, powerful men - none of them compare to this moment.

He tells me about something called the Centuries War, and how his people fought the Grolgath, who were religious zealots bent on spreading a galactic jihad. In the future, Earth allies with the Vakutan…apparently.

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