Therese Beharrie - Second Chance With Her Billionaire

Summer walked until she could see the white-brown beach sand. It called out to her, the crash of the waves on the shore chiming in. She wished she could answer. Wished she could strip off the dress she’d chosen to wear to the celebration she wanted nothing to do with and walk into the ocean.

She settled for dragging in a full breath of the salty air.

‘Daydreaming of running away?’ a voice came from behind her.

The goosebumps were because of the sea breeze, Summer told herself, before straightening her shoulders and turning.

‘Wyatt,’ she said steadily, as if her insides didn’t feel as though they were disintegrating at the sight of him. ‘How pleasant to see you again.’

Those sensual lips curved into a smile that seemed decidedly feline.

‘Pleasant?’ he repeated, cocking his head.

She tried not to notice how the wind was mussing his hair. Or that the top button of his shirt was open, revealing tantalising brown skin that sent an irrational image of her licking it flashing through her mind.

‘Not quite the word I would use,’ he continued. She stared at him for a second before remembering she needed to have a sassy response.

‘Okay,’ she said, trying to recover when she thought there might have been a saltiness on her tongue from the skin she’d licked in her imagination, ‘how about it’s a surprise to see you again?’

‘But it’s not a surprise,’ he replied quite logically, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘We knew this was coming.’

‘Unfortunately,’ she muttered.

He quirked a brow, then chuckled softly to himself. ‘You couldn’t get out of it.’

‘I—’ She broke off before she could give herself away. ‘I didn’t try,’ she lied.

Again that not quite genuine smile returned to his lips. ‘I’m disappointed. I thought an occasion that would force you to see your ex-husband for the first time in two years would at least warrant an escape attempt.’

‘It’s my parents’ thirtieth anniversary,’ she said, repeating what her twin sister, Autumn, had told Summer when she’d complained about having to attend.

‘It’s been eight years,’ Autumn had said. ‘We’ve moved on.’

Autumn’s voice had softened, which had been the worst part for Summer. Not that she couldn’t skip the weekend celebration. Not because of the reasons she wanted to escape it. It was the sympathy . With Autumn, when they dared speak about their family dynamics at all, it was always the sympathy.

But Summer’s feelings about her family, her parents, didn’t warrant sympathy. They were valid. Autumn just didn’t know the entire truth of it. Eight years later, Summer still couldn’t share that truth. Not with her sister, and not with the man she’d once loved.

A familiar resentment bubbled inside her.

Summer released a shaky breath and met Wyatt’s eyes. She did a quick intake of air at the intensity as their gazes clashed. It felt as if that air had stumbled on its way to her lungs. Tension crackled around them; she was almost positive she felt the ground shift beneath her.

No. This wasn’t a natural disaster. Rather, it was a natural effect of seeing the man she’d walked away from two years before. An after-effect, she corrected, of the passion that had resulted in a hunger that had never quite been sated between them. It didn’t matter how hard they’d tried. Or how often.

‘Did you try?’ she asked, desperate to distract herself. ‘To get out of this?’

‘No,’ he said simply.

Automatically, her insides twisted and turned. Reminded her of how she’d felt all throughout their short marriage.

She knew what that simple ‘no’ meant. It spoke of Wyatt’s loyalty to Summer’s father. Trevor Bishop had chosen Wyatt to be his protégé while Wyatt had still been in university. Without any reason to, Wyatt had claimed when he’d told her the story, and despite his less than stellar academic record. But Trevor had seen something in Wyatt. He’d trained that something until it had become the discipline Wyatt was now known for. Once Wyatt and Summer had started dating, Trevor had begun to nurture it.

Summer had listened to Wyatt’s recollection of it when they’d started dating. Had smiled and asked questions even though it had left a bitter taste in her mouth. She should have known right then and there that there could be no future for them. Wyatt clearly idealised Trevor. But it had been too late when Summer realised Wyatt didn’t only idealise him; he wanted to be like him. Wyatt wanted to be like Trevor and follow in his footsteps.

She couldn’t tell Wyatt why that was a problem. Oh, she’d planned to. But she’d been caught up in the whirlwind of falling in love, and, honestly, was it so wrong that she didn’t want her father to ruin that, too?

She should have let him though. Then she might not have found herself on her honeymoon, listening to Wyatt recount his experiences with his own parents, realising once again she’d have to lie for her father.

She might have still been married, too.

* * *

Wyatt didn’t believe in fate. At least he hadn’t, until he’d met Trevor Bishop.

The foundation for that belief had been laid when he’d actually attended the university class Trevor had been guest lecturing at. At that point, Wyatt’s attendance record had been similar to his academic record: he’d done the bare minimum to pass.

Wyatt thought about that version of himself in a very distant way. He knew it was him, but he couldn’t relate to that boy any more. The boy who’d been full of hurt and anger at parents who’d abandoned him. The boy who’d had no purpose. Perhaps that was why meeting Trevor Bishop that day had been so significant. If he hadn’t, that boy would have become a hurt and angry man.

That was not the man Wyatt was today.

Or so he’d thought until now, seeing his ex-wife for the first time since they’d signed their divorce papers.

Her arms were at her sides, her hands curled into fists, her expression painfully tight. All signs she didn’t want to be there. Proof she’d been lying when she said she hadn’t tried to get out of this event, too. She hated being there. The only reason he could think of as to why was him.

Hurt curled in his belly; anger simmered in his veins.

It made no sense then that his eyes had immediately been drawn to her when he’d arrived minutes earlier. Or that he’d followed her outside, away from the crowd of people who would have protected him from the pain, the anger.

Yet there he was, desperately pretending seeing her again didn’t stir up emotions he’d rather not feel.

‘Why would I try to get out of this?’ he asked, his voice deliberately pleasant. She’d started it, hadn’t she? ‘It’s an all-expenses-paid vacation to a beautiful lodge along the beach of one of South Africa’s most beautiful places.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she replied dryly. ‘I’d forgotten about your meagre wealth.’ Her eyebrow lifted. ‘I’d forgotten how poorly travelled you are.’

He resisted the smile, though he accepted the jibe. She was right. He didn’t need anyone to pay for anything for him these days. It was a stark contrast to his childhood. To the days after his father had left and his mother had drunk herself into oblivion. When he’d had to steal his schoolmates’ lunches for food or wear his father’s clothes when his had grown too small.

That kid could never have imagined having the money Wyatt had today. Nor would he have imagined the trips Wyatt now took as the right-hand man of the CEO of Bishop Enterprises. He flew all over the world to secure deals for the import/export company.

His life had changed dramatically. All because fate had urged him to attend class on the day Trevor Bishop had been there.