THE BILLIONAIRE’S RETURNED LOVER

The beat wasn't doing it. Ivory Stars moved the glass that held her drink in a slow circular motion, taking in the loud music and her roommate Vanessa grinding her skinny body to the awkward beat. "Come on Ivy! This song is bonkers!!" The British girl screamed above the din, sounding like an old CD recording. "You know you want to!" Ivory laughed, rolling her deep blue eyes, and tossed her drink down her throat. Vodka. It burned a trail down to her stomach and she had hoped it would give her the fire she needed to go bonkers. It didn't. And she was sorely disappointed. When Vanessa had bragged about Upnine nightclub the previous day, She had been pretty stoked to start the summer break with a bang. No more classes, exhausting projects and gruelling assignments that threatened to tear her apart. College sucked and she was determined to forget about it in the next three months to come. She sighed, tossed her black hair out of her face and shifted on the stool she sat on, feeling her butt grow numb by the second. It was quite shocking. She, the night owl, crazy partier and wild chick of Oxford, was in a night club and all she felt was boredom. Chuckling drily, she slid her empty glass across the lit-up counter. "Another," "Plan to get trolled tonight?" The bartender, a hot slim dude with shaggy brown hair that fell across his face, asked. He was quite good looking and she wouldn't mind stealing a quickie with him behind the stalls, but of course, she wasn't particularly feeling it that night. Her purse, sling across her shoulders, vibrated and she sighed. She couldn't deal with phone calls, not when the music in the bar threatened to deafen anyone within a six-mile radius. Ignoring the ringing phone, she flashed a smile at the bartender, leaning forward. "Mhmm. Trolled and-" She darted her tongue out, licking her lips slowly and leisurely. "Lucky." Her body tingled as she watched the bartender's eyes darken. Ivory knew the effect she had on men. She had known it early in her first year at Oxford. She was tall enough, a stunning 5"8, she was heavy in the boobs and backside department accompanied with a toned belly that came from doing sit-ups every morning. She was gorgeous, or at least she felt like one in the short kinky black dress and matching black heels she wore. Throwing the bartender a hooded gaze, she could tell from his glazed eyes that he was imagining exposing every inch of her pale ivory skin. And she loved it. He leaned forward, pouring her a drink while holding her eyes. Oh, it was hot, she ought to be on fire but all she felt was a mild tingle. What the heck was wrong with her body? Was it because she had turned twenty a few weeks ago? Had she become too old to have fun, to get thrilled? Her phone vibrated again cutting the rising panic in her chest and grateful for the interruption, she whipped it out to read the text message. The music stopped, The dancing people froze and the bartender melted away into nothing. Her world shattered and tore apart as she read the words on the device screen. "No." She whispered. "No." Vanessa who seemed to have noticed the change in her demeanour drew closer. "Ivy? Are you good?" She asked. Ivory glanced up at her, feeling her heart race with each passing second. "Tell me it's not true. " Vanessa frowned confused. "What are you going on about?" She glanced at the bartender who looked just as confused as she was. "Ivy?" But Ivory wasn't listening. The words and noise faded into the background as she read and reread the message. "Frederick Carter is dead. The funeral's in three days, just thought you should know." A sob tore low in her throat and she jumped off the stool, racing outside. "I'm leaving." "Wait, Ivory!" Vanessa yelled after her but she couldn't give a flying s**t what her roommate wanted at that moment. "It's not true. " She muttered over and over as she weaved through the throng of people. "It's not true. Frederick...Frederick isn't dead!" A burst of air slammed against her face as she finally found her way outside the nightclub. Salty tears flowed from her eyes freely, as she hunched over, her body shaking with each painful sob. She could not believe it. She would not believe it. It was probably some prank. Frantically, she dialled the number, hanging on to a sliver of hope. "Please God, let it be a prank. Please. I can't lose Frederick. I can't lose him." She remembered the last time they had talked. A little over a week ago. "Come on Ivory," he had said in his gruff fatherly tone that had always made her feel safe. "Just come over once will ya? It's been three years, kiddo." The call got disconnected and Ivory closed her eyes tight, feeling the organ in her chest rend into two. "I should've gone. I should've gone to see him." She cried, burying her face in her palms. "I'm such a stupid, shitty coward. I should... I should've..." Frederick had always been there for her. The father she never had, literally. The only memory she had of her father was his back as he walked out of the house. She had been three, playing with a wooden pony while sitting in the living room, all she heard was loud voices and before she knew it, her old man was dragging a suitcase out of their house, never to be seen again. But she had never lacked the warmth she needed from a father. Frederick had supplied plenty of it. He taught her how to ride a bike, to catch butterflies- they'd had a really huge collection of them, and her mother had gotten so mad. He showed her love and care in its purest form. And had given her all the hope she needed to survive. "And now he's dead. He's dead. All he wanted... I have to go to LA. Frederick..." She choked back a sob as a thought dropped into her mind. What about him? "Oh, God." She gasped, gripping a wall for strength. If she felt so crushed about Frederick's death, how would he feel? No no. That's the least of my problems. If she went back to LA, how would she face him? Not after she had tucked her tail between her legs and ran off to England without so much as a goodbye! Her heart began racing but for an entirely different reason now. She wondered how he was. It had been three solid years since she had seen him and yet it was certain that in three days, they would meet. What would she say? Would things be awkward? She glanced down at the phone that hung limply in her hands. Had he sent the text?! Crap! Three years and she was still a hopeful, hopeless i***t. Feeling mentally exhausted, she pulled away from the wall and began a slow walk toward the road. The next few weeks were going to be hell. She would have to call her mom- the lord knows her mom had probably broken down, Frederick had been a major supportive pillar in their lives-, book a ticket straight to LA, and face the inevitable. A whistle distracted her from her moody thoughts, and a group of blokes stood a few meters before her. Seeing that they had her attention, they whistled harder and approached her. Ivory pressed her lips together in a thin line. This was the last thing she needed. A group of four drunk guys who didn't look past her boobs and ass, talking trash with her. If they had any sense, they would see her running mascara and know she was in a foul mood. They didn't. She sighed and pulled off her heels. She had learnt during her first year that England men only sounded smarter, most of them were actually daft. "Aww look at that fellas. She's a feisty one." One of the guys teased as they surrounded her. "A true Boadicea. She's heavily blessed too." Another added, giving her a leery gaze. "May I lean into your bosom, dear lady of the heavens?" She bared her teeth in anger. "Just walk. away and none of you has to go home bruised." "Aww come on Sweet. You know you want some. of this-" She waved a pointy heel in his face and he reared back, "Take a good freaking look at me, do I look like I want to dally?! If your fogged British heads can't take a freaking hint, I am NOT Interested. Now back off, or I'm calling the police! " Mumbling about how boring she was, the four dudes trudged away. Exhausted and afraid, suddenly feeling alone after three years away from home, she hailed a cab. She might as well go home. After all, if she was going to see him in three days, she would need all the backup emotions she could gather.