The Billionaire’s Girlfriend Bet - Leslie North Page 0,50

to be pissed,” Mila added. “But you need to show her why she shouldn’t stay pissed.”

Blake drew a deep breath, his gaze pinging across the club. One thing was for certain—he didn’t want to stay here. He was too jumbled inside to enjoy it anymore.

“I think I need to go home.”

“No. Stay here. Enjoy all your hard work. You earned this, buddy,” Grayson said, gesturing around the room. “Have a drink and try to relax. Michelle will come around, I promise.”

Blake hesitated, but finally he nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“See? Let’s go have a shot to take our minds off things.”

“I’m definitely joining in on this,” Jackie said.

Their group wandered toward the bar as Blake lagged behind. He’d stay—for now. But every inch of his mind and body were focused on Michelle.

Please don’t let this be the last time I see her.

Like Grayson said, Michelle would come around.

Even though every cell of his body doubted it, he needed to cling to that. It was all he had for now.

Michelle will come around.

Grayson’s promise to Blake rang through his ears the entire following week. He thought of those words as he called her phone and it clicked to voicemail countless times. As he sent texts that were never answered. As she didn’t open the door on the two separate times he’d visited her house.

Michelle will come around.

Except by the following weekend, it was looking a lot like she wouldn’t. He hadn’t been able to so much as lay eyes on her since she pulled out of the nightclub parking lot last weekend, and it was looking like she planned on never speaking to him again.

Exactly as she’d promised.

By Sunday, Blake was still just as miserable. No, scratch that. He was even more miserable than the day it had happened. And he was pretty sure that his friends could tell, just by his silence in their group text.

So when Grayson and Daniel showed up at his door on Sunday afternoon wearing derby hats and bearing a strange glint in their eyes, Blake suspected they were on a mission to make him feel better.

“What are you guys doing here?” He stepped aside to let them in, running a hand through his tousled hair. It was just before noon, but he hadn’t bothered to get out of bed until their fervent knocking started. It was unlike him, but then again, a lot about him these days was unlike the normal Blake. And that had everything to do with Michelle.

“Trying to pick up your damn spirits.” Daniel clamped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to test-drive some cars.”

Blake grunted, scratching idly at his chest as he wandered through the penthouse and into the kitchen. His friends followed him. “I don’t know if I can go.”

“What, you busy?” Grayson made a big display of looking around for signs of anything that might have Blake occupied. “You just got out of bed. Which is a sign that something is seriously wrong.”

When it came time to explain his excuse, Blake couldn’t think of any good reason. Grayson simply nodded and jerked his head toward the hallway leading to Blake’s bedroom. “Go get changed. We’re driving a Ferrari today.”

“Which you should buy,” Daniel added, “if you know what’s good for you.”

Blake smirked as he headed for his bedroom. His friends knew what usually cheered him up, at least. And he should make a good go of it. Try to start forgetting about Michelle, since apparently that’s what she wanted from him.

Not being able to see her at work all week had really grated on him—especially when he’d had to talk to HR to find out that she had left, cashing in her vacation days in lieu of giving notice. He had no idea where she worked now. And it was clear that she didn’t want to be found.

That didn’t stop him from sending texts…or leaving voicemails…or sending the occasional bouquet of flowers to her house.

“Come on!” Grayson called out from the living room once Blake had found himself stalled in front of his walk-in closet, unable to decide which shoes to put on.

“I’m coming.” He slipped on some chinos and a polo shirt—to match his friends’ style of the day—and popped on a derby hat on his way out of his bedroom. Now they looked like brothers. Because in a way, they were. They were closer than some blood brothers. And he hated to imagine how far down the self-pity hole he might have gone if his