The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 70

Aveline

Laurent had been gone for what felt like forever—probably just a business call, knowing him—and I was starting to feel the full effects of our evening's indulgences. The whiskey had gone down far too smoothly, and now everything had a pleasantly hazy quality that made me want to curl up somewhere and sleep for about twelve hours.

But God, I was happy. Genuinely, thoroughly happy in a way I hadn't been for months.

This was exactly what I'd needed—an evening with someone who knew me completely and liked me anyway. Laurent was living proof that people who claimed men and women couldn't be purely platonic friends were full of shit. We'd been business partners and best friends for years without so much as a hint of romantic tension, and it was perfect that way.

I pushed myself up from the bar stool, swaying slightly as the alcohol hit me with renewed force. Maybe some fresh air would help clear my head. Or maybe I'd just wander around and enjoy the music until Laurent got back.

I was making my way toward the dance floor when a young guy—probably barely legal drinking age—appeared in my path with that cocky grin that screamed college fratboy.

"Hey there, beautiful," he said, blocking my way with obvious intent. "How about we grab a few more drinks together? I'm buying."

I looked him up and down with amusement. Baby-faced, eager, radiating that particular brand of youthful arrogance that came from never being told no. Cute in a puppy dog sort of way, but definitely not my type.

"Sorry, kid," I said with a laugh, "but I don't play with boys who still get carded at restaurants."

His face immediately flushed red, embarrassment quickly morphing into indignation. "What did you just say to me?"

Before I could deliver an even more cutting response, a familiar hand settled on the kid's shoulder with enough pressure to make him wince.

"She said," Laurent's voice carried just enough menace to make the boy go pale, "that she doesn't date children. And trust me, mon ami, if she won't play with a devastatingly handsome man like me, what makes you think she'd be interested in amateur hour?"

The kid took one look at Laurent's imposing figure—six-foot-three of lean muscle and European sophistication—and practically scurried away without another word.

"My hero," I said, throwing my arms around Laurent's neck with alcohol-fueled affection. "With you as my bodyguard, I could rule this entire city!"

"Absolutely not," Laurent said, laughing as he steadied me. "Didn't you just tell me you've been sleeping with Orion Blackwell? If I were you, I'd be booking the next flight back to Europe. That man is not someone you want to have as an enemy."

I waved dismissively, the liquid courage making me far more cavalier than I probably should have been. "Please. He's not scary. His only weapon is his teeth, and I've already survived that particular attack." I giggled at the memory. "Besides, it's just sex. What's he going to do, hold a grudge forever?"

Laurent shook his head with obvious amusement. "Ma chérie, I cannot wait to see how this soap opera ends. You're playing with fire, and I'm going to be watching from a safe distance with popcorn."

He glanced at his phone and grimaced. "Speaking of safe distances, I need to head back to my hotel. Early meeting tomorrow with some potential investors. Do you want me to call you a car?"

"This is New York!" I protested, swatting at his arm. "This is my city! I don't need an escort to get home safely. Go handle your business empire—I'm perfectly capable of managing one evening by myself."

We exchanged the traditional French goodbye—quick kisses on both cheeks—and I watched him disappear into the crowd with a warm feeling in my chest. Whatever chaos awaited me tomorrow, tonight had been exactly what I needed.

But as I turned toward the restrooms, the room spun slightly more than it should have. Maybe I was a little more intoxicated than I'd realized.

In the bathroom mirror, I caught sight of my reflection and had to laugh.

The pattern on my dress was backwards—or wait, was that just because it was a mirror? I squinted at myself, trying to determine which way was up, and realized I was definitely more drunk than was advisable for navigating Manhattan streets in heels.

Time to go home before I did something really stupid.

I made my way toward the exit as quickly as my coordination would allow, but in my haste to leave, I misjudged the space between me and another patron and walked directly into what felt like a brick wall.

"Watch where you're going, asshole!" I snapped, my patience depleted by alcohol and the sudden jarring contact.

But when I looked up to glare at whoever had been in my way, the words died in my throat.

The man standing in front of me was tall, impeccably dressed, and wearing an expression of dark amusement that made my blood run cold. His dark eyes glittered with something predatory as he looked down at me, taking in my flushed cheeks, my slightly disheveled appearance, and the obvious effects of my evening's drinking.

"Well, well, Ms. Reeves," Orion said, his voice carrying that dangerous undertone I'd learned to fear. "You certainly know how to have a good time, don't you?"