Hustler

Chapter 6

We arrived at the Morley Mansion and Heath watched as I quickly tied my shoes around my lower legs. "They look good," he murmured, his voice gruff.

His eyes licked up my legs, and everywhere his gaze touched felt like a warm caress. It was intoxicating to be looked at that way, by a man like him; blatantly desired.

I smiled at his compliment. "Thanks."

I exited the car and gave the keys to the valet.

Heath joined me at my side, and my stomach flipped at his proximity. I looked at his profile, admiring his chiselled jaw before directing my attention straight ahead.

My ex, Roger Davidson, was just entering the door before us with his buxom wife latched onto his arm.

I gulped. I did not want to be faced with that sight right now.

Roger was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He was suave, polished, billionaire perfection. He could argue someone to their knees until they were begging to give him what he wanted. He could be so cold, willing to freeze you out if you defied him. He hated how I never begged for him. I despised how he would never surrender to me, how he had dominated the bedroom with his rigidity and formulaic fucking.

What a waste of time.

Heath glanced across at me. "Are you okay?" he asked.

I must have paused for a beat too long if I was that easy to read. I plastered a smile onto my face.

"Yes, of course."

I strode ahead, Heath matching me at my side. Walking in with him, it felt like he had my back. But then I remembered that he was just a journalist, examining my life for his own profit, just like he had many billionaires before me, and a wave of disgust rolled down my throat.

I was just a research project to him. He didn't care about me. Nor should he. It was not as if I cared about Heath as more than some eye candy.

I was gripped by the strong urge to be far away from Heath. But I couldn't, he was my guest and I had invited him here.

Although, by the way he was nodding at a few of the men, he obviously knew some of the people here. I eyed him cautiously, he sure knew how to rub shoulders with billionaires.

Roger chose that moment to appear in front of us, his wife attached to his arm.

"Hello Max," he said, flashing his pearly white teeth.

"Roger," I said coolly.

Roger's attention drifted to the man standing beside me and he smiled. A twinge of unease settled in my stomach.

"Heath," he greeted, reaching his hand out to shake my companion's hand.

Heath accepted his handshake. "Roger," he said, his voice unreadable.

I looked between them, confusion rearing inside me. How did they know each other?

"Max," Roger said, capturing my attention again. "I don't know if you've met Felicity since you declined our wedding invitation."

Asshole.

Fucking bastard. He was trying to ruin me. His subtle digs to our relationship, and the fact that I was still unmarried. I had been furious when he had sent me an invitation. Why the hell would I want to turn up to his wedding? Even now, I struggled to maintain my composure. I didn't want Roger. I was fuming at the reminder of how much of my life I'd wasted on him, while he had been cheating on me.

"Yes, I had another commitment," I said, looking over Roger's shoulder. It might have been petty, but I didn't want to acknowledge the woman who'd been one of his many affairs. I almost felt sorry for her.