Billionaire's Second Chance At Love

Chapter Seven

"I think I'm about to cry," Molly pouted as she looked at Carmen in the mirror, her eyes already ready for the waterworks. "I feel like my heart might combust if I looked at you any longer," then, her eyes lit up and a grin crept across the corner of her lips. "So just imagine what that would do to Mr Walsh?!"

Carmen's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. Just hearing the way Molly so dramatically and teasingly took his name, did something funny beneath her chest, a knot loosening and setting some incredibly excited butterflies free in her stomach. She turned around to see her closest friend standing at the doorway, as Suzan, the makeup artist, packed her belongings and prepared to leave.

"I bet Mr Walsh won't be able to keep his hands off her tonight," Suzan said with a smirk, as Carmen felt pinpricks all over her neck and down her spine. "And if he did, consider this service provided free of charge by me."

Molly looked thrilled. "You are a vicious woman, Suz!" she pointed a finger at Suzan, but Carmen could tell it was meant to be playful. "You only make bets you know you'll win, and we both know Mr Walsh would devour her the moment he lay eyes on her." She winked.

Now, Carmen wished to combust. "Shut up, you guys!" She chastised them both before turning around and taking another long look in the mirror.

Carmen couldn't lie but the woman who gazed back in the mirror did look breath-taking. Her dark hair was curled down the length and bouncy at the tips, rather than the usual straight and drab. An off-the-shoulder champagne satin gown clung to her body in the most stunning way, accentuating her lovely curves and that creamy leg that seemed to be on display due to a wicked slit running down her beautiful thigh.

Carmen had wanted to wear nude lipstick for the night, something she always, always and practically always wore—something she felt comfortable in—but four hours ago Suzan and Molly had hijacked her room and any recommendations that came out of Carmen's mouth were outrightly ignored. Now she wore bright red lipstick that made her look so...different.

Carmen finally understood why they called that move a game-changer. It completely changed the way she looked. It made her look like someone who was used to being invited to such exclusive evening gatherings, wearing such expensive fabrics, and feeling beautiful every time she looked at herself in the mirror or in the eyes of the others around her.

Ronin, on the other hand, had never made her feel this way. The only time he cared about what she wore throughout their nine-month marriage was during one of those inaugural parties when he was the star guest and his mom and grandpa forced him to bring her with him. Being put into a position like that was so very mortifying. Not only for Carmen but also for Ronin. She could tell he had no intention of keeping her anywhere around him. Sometimes he looked so miserable standing next to her, or sitting at the dining table at his parents' place, that Carmen felt sick and so heartbroken from the inside.

But her chapter with Ronin and his family was over. She was ready to move on with her life, something she should have done long before Ronin slapped those divorce papers on the dining table. It was such a boisterous wake-up call to her dignity, Carmen's conscience hadn't slept a wink ever since that morning.

But things were finally looking up. From going back to work—something Ronin had shunned her throughout their married life—to dating one of the most eligible bachelors in the world, Carmen couldn't believe this drastic turn her life had taken. It was all so unbelievable, felt so unrealistic, that sometimes she'd wake up in the middle of the night and pinch herself to be sure it wasn't a dream.

It was not. Because every night she woke up since she met Simon, he'd be right there with her, his strong and heavy arm so carefully thrown around her waist, her face buried in the crook of his neck, and this warm feeling growing throughout her being, the feeling of being desired by a man like Simon Walsh.