My beautiful billionaire player

CHAPTER 2

After collecting our carry-on luggage, my companion and I exit the jet bridge, and as we do so, I notice two men who are strikingly attractive observing the passengers leaving the aircraft from the terminal. When I first see Mike, I immediately recognize him. Even if I had never seen his photograph, I would be able to pick him out of a throng anywhere in the world. There's no way you could ever miss him; he's the ideal embodiment of Sasha in male form. The blonde color of his hair is more muted than hers is (her monthly date with the hairdresser helps those playful highlights). The olive color of their complexion stands in stark contrast to the blonde color of their hair. He is gorgeous, much like his sister, but in a way that is more appropriate for a man. It's a shame I'm not interested in dating him because he has some serious s*x appeal.

He wraps his arms around the midsection of his sister and gives her a firm squeeze before lifting her off the ground and spinning her several times. "I can't believe my younger sister has traveled such a long distance to see me," he said. He helps her sit down on the floor and then turns his attention to me. "And you must be Mandy."

"In point of fact, I am."

Since the first day we met each other during our first year at Vanderbilt, Sasha and I have been the greatest of friends. However, for some reason or another, I have never managed to cross Mike's path. Because this is the first time we've seen each other in four years, I'm not sure whether to put out my hand for a handshake or extend my arms for a hug; thus, I wait for him to make the first move.

He moves in for the embrace. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mandy. It's been years since I've heard anything about you, but nevertheless, I feel as though I already know you."

"I really hope that your impression of me hasn't been tarnished by my best friend."

“Never.” One of his prominent dimples is highlighted by the crooked grin he wears. It's not a welcoming smile that says "glad to meet you." Now that he's flirting with me, I can't help but worry about what my trusted friend may have said to encourage him to do so.

Sasha takes a moment to clear her throat. Are you going to put us in contact with your pal at some point?

Because the energy I'm getting from Mike makes me uneasy, I'm pleased to turn my attention away from him and toward his friend. Alan has a lean and muscular body despite his height. His almost-black eyes are framed by long, sooty lashes, and the rest of his dark hair is trimmed near to his skull except for the spiked tuft on top of his head. I noticed that he is donning a black fitted T-shirt, and I noticed the tribal art tattoo that is looping around his bicep. His entire demeanor screams danger, which can only mean one thing: my friend who is crazy about bad boys is going to be all over him.

It is Sasha to whom he extends his hand first. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Oh, swoon. Even though I'm not attracted to men like him, I could listen to his cool Canadian accent all day long.

I believe I can make out a sigh coming from Sasha, and I am certain that she is thinking the same thing that I am. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Love your accent."

He extends his hand to me but does not give me his attention; Sasha is still the focus of his attention. I'm hoping that your trip has been a good one overall.

It would be impolite to complain to someone I've just met about how unpleasant the journey here was, especially since we've just met. Sasha responds, so I don't have to either lie or complain since she is keen to keep Mr. Dark and Handsome's attention. This is because she is eager to keep his attention. We had a wonderful time away.

"Ladies, how do you guys feel about going out to a club tonight?"

Even though it's called a bed, I really feel like punching something right now.

Since Sasha has had a good night's sleep thanks to her nap on the plane, it would appear that I am the one who is ruining the fun if I say no. This is a role that I have never been assigned, and I have no intention of beginning it now. "I'm ready to go like the energizer bunny," you might say.

When I finally die, I suppose I'll be able to rest.

Victor Stephens POV

I am like a ravenous animal hunting for its next meal as I sit in the shadowy nook of the room and look about. Even though I haven't decided on her just yet, the woman who will be sharing my bed for the next few months is currently present in this room.

I smile as I see a stunning blonde coming over to join us. What can I bring for you? Hmm. A waitress is not at all in line with my typical preferences.

I am of a certain mold. Attractive. Mature. Refined. This barmaid is gorgeous enough to meet the criterion, but she lacks refinement and maturity, as evidenced by the dress she chooses to wear, which consists of a white tank top with a plunging neckline and tattered denim shorts with frayed cut-offs. She doesn't do it for me. In addition to that, my most recent two companions were blonde. This time around, I'd like something different, but please, no redheads. I want someone with brown hair. A stunning one.

I have to remind myself that I am not in Toronto, where there is an infinite number of beautiful and intelligent women from which to choose. Although the number of available partners is lower in Victoria due to the town's size, this does not mean that I have to settle for the first attractive woman I come across.

"I'll have a Shiraz."

This time around, I'm prepared for a relationship to last for a longer period of time than usual—three solid months, as opposed to the typical three or four weeks. Because I am looking forward to having this one around for a bit longer, it is all the more important for me to ensure that the decision I make is the right one.

When I initially enter the club, I look at the table that is located closest to the entrance of the space. A stunning brunette is mingling with the other ladies in the room. After observing her for a time, I come to the conclusion that she is being excessively nice to the woman seated next to her. Lesbians aren't in my repertory.

Following that, I spend the following hour searching the club, but to no avail. I feel so disheartened. This club is by far my greatest bet for meeting single women in this town because there is no one person who stands out as being the one. It's possible that I ought to think about coming back on a different night when it's not open mic night. This evening, the establishment is overrun with inebriated college students.

The search that we conducted tonight was fruitless, but at least the karaoke kept everyone entertained.

I'm down to my final sip of wine before I head out of the club when an announcer from the venue steps onto the stage and asks for the next singer to come forward. One of their own is put forward by a select few individuals located across the room. My view of the poor cretin is obscured by the throng of inebriated children that are standing between us, but I can already see that this is going to be another hilarious train catastrophe.

The club immediately breaks out into applause and chants. "Do. It. Do. It. Do. It." A young lady steps up onto the stage and immediately turns her back to the audience as she grabs a guitar from where it is stored. She pulls the strap over her head and then tosses her long brown hair over one shoulder before completing the process. After she has done adjusting the position of the guitar, she walks to the center of the stage, where there is a stool, and sits down on it.

She is quite attractive. And I was surprised to see that I had missed it during my quest.

She is decked out in a short dress made of ivory fabric, a denim jacket, and brown cowboy boots. She exposes her thighs as she lifts her feet to rest on the lowest rail, but before she does so, she makes sure to push her dress between her legs so that she doesn't give the audience a peep show.

After giving the borrowed guitar a couple of light strums, she approaches the microphone and takes a position there. "Is there a nice time being had by all this evening?"

She is of American nationality. I believe so. Her dialect does not sound like anything I've ever heard before; it's very distinctive.