Page 11 of Kinks of a Billionaire
I didn’t like it. Not. At. All.
As much as Willow was my rescue from a clingy girlfriend, I was hers to call upon when she needed saving. We were each other’s plus-ones for all the annoying events we had to attend.
My best friend belonged to me. No man had ever lasted long enough to be a threat.
Until now.
My gaze found the couple across the terrace, standing with some idiot who kept kissing Willow’s hand and beaming at her engagement ring.
If I were her man, I’d punch that motherfucker in the face.
I groaned inwardly, scolding myself. I had to stop thinking this way. My eyes locked on her petite frame, and my chest squeezed at the idea of losing her.
At five foot three, Willow was every man’s wet dream. A knockout and so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her sometimes. She was the perfect blend of both her parents—Portuguese mother and French father. Her Portuguese heritage shone through her deep chestnut hair, which was tied back today, her auburn highlights glistening under the afternoon sun. She was blessed with beautiful ivory skin, light freckles across her narrow nose, and a slim body with curves in all the right places. And then there was her smile, the kind that blinded everyone around her.
The girl had grown into a woman who would put any man’s sanity to the test.
My thoughts flickered to that day in my living room, the credits of a movie I didn’t watch a second of rolling across my TV. I wondered if she thought about it as much as I did, if she wished that night would have taken a slightly different turn.
But then we probably wouldn’t have the friendship we had today.
Willow’s melodious laugh snatched my attention back to her and her fiancé. They stood closer now, with a different couple, and I listened to her recount her romantic proposal in vivid detail.
I’d heard it before, of course, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to throw up a bit in my mouth. Apparently the fucker sang the question like some kind of musical. I’d rather shut my dick in a car door than do something so publicly humiliating.
I glared at her fiancé who’d been glued to Willow’s side for the past hour like a damn blood-sucking leech. I was pulling at all my willpower here, fighting the urge to kill a man who’d done no wrong.
Well, aside from touching my girl.
All in all, it was a happy day. The birds chirped and kids ran around the caterers’ legs, laughing and smiling. All the while, I silently prayed, inviting a goddamned thunderstorm. In fact, it’d be the perfect day if lightning struck the fucking fiancé and gave Willow a break from his octopus hands.
Sailor—Willow and my sister Aurora’s best friend—appeared next to me. “Hey, Royce.”
“Hey.” I wasn’t in the mood for company.
“I bet you’re proud, huh?”
Narrowing my eyes on Sailor, I snapped, “Why?”
She blinked, confusion crossing her face.
“Well, you introduced Willow to Stuart.” Ah, yes. Then there was that. Stuart might’ve been a buddy once, but he was now my number one enemy. If only I could go back to that night and ignore his interruption. Send him and that fucking pineapple cake packing. Instead, idiot me invited the fucker into my penthouse and let him join us for dinner.
“They look so in love,” Sailor purred, as if she were egging me on. My grip on my beer tightened, threatening to shatter it into a million pieces. “You probably know they’re planning on expediting the wedding.”
I whipped around to face her. “What?”
My outrage drew a few curious gazes, including from Willow’s parents, who were making their way toward me. Fuck!
“You didn’t know?” Sailor questioned with furrowed brows. “I thought you two shared everything.”
“Apparently not,” I grumbled dryly.
“She probably planned to tell you today. The wedding’s happening tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I hissed in disbelief. “Why the fuck would they do that?”
She shrugged. “I guess they’re eager to make it official.”
