The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 73

Kevin’s POV

Euphoria Club was exactly what the name promised. It was loud, pulsing, alive. I underestimated this club so much..

The bass thrummed through my chest as I pushed through the crowd, my eyes scanning the room. Strobe lights cut through the darkness, illuminating glimpses of dancing bodies and raised glasses.

Girls kept rubbing my chest as I passed, trying to call me in. Some even recognized me as Kevin Laurent, the F1 racer, but that had to be later.

I wasn’t here for them, the music or the drinks.

I was here for her.

It took me about ten minutes to spot Matilda. She was at the bar, nursing something pink and fruity, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. Even in the chaotic lighting, she stood out–beautiful in a way that wasn’t trying too hard, confident without being arrogant.

I made my way over, sliding onto the barstool beside her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said, flashing my most charming grin.

Matilda turned, her eyes widening slightly before narrowing with amusement. “Kevin Laurent. Are you stalking me?”

“Cynthia mentioned you’d be here. I took it as an invitation.”

“An invitation from your sister isn’t the same as an invitation from me.”

“And yet here I am.” I signaled the bartender. “Can I buy you another drink?”

She looked at her nearly empty glass, then back at me. A smile tugged at her lips. “Fine. But only because I’m curious why an F1 champion is chasing me around Missford.”

“Maybe I like a challenge.”

“I’m not a challenge. I’m a doctor with early morning rounds and zero patience for players.”

“Good thing I’m not playing.”

The bartender brought our drinks, whiskey for me, another pink concoction for her and we fell into conversation.

We talked about Cynthia first. Matilda filled me in on sneaking her into Amber’s hospital room, and I felt a surge of gratitude for this woman who barely knew my sister but had helped her anyway.

“She’s been through hell,” Matilda said, stirring her drink. “But she’s tougher than she looks.”

“She is,” I agreed. “Though she doesn’t always see it herself.”

“That’s the problem with people who’ve been beaten down for too long. They forget their own strength.”

The conversation drifted from Cynthia to other things, her work at the hospital, my racing career, experiences, embarrassing childhood stories.

Matilda was funnier than I’d expected. She gave as good as she got, matching my wit with her own.

And the more she drank, the more her walls came down.

favorite foods, worst travel

“You know,” she said, leaning closer, her words slightly slurred, “when I first saw you outside Missford university for the first

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time, I thought you were just another pretty face.”

“And now?”

“Now I think you’re a pretty face with a surprisingly decent personality.”

I laughed. “High praise from Dr. Reyes.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

She swatted my arm, but she was smiling. Her hand lingered on my sleeve longer than necessary.

The club was getting more crowded, the music louder. Someone bumped into Matilda from behind, pushing her into me. I caught her instinctively, my hands on her waist.

She looked up at me, her eyes dark and slightly unfocused.

“This is probably a bad idea,” she murmured.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“I don’t do one–night stands.”

“Neither do I.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, I used to. But I’m trying to be better.”

She studied my face for a long moment, searching for something. Whatever she found must have satisfied her because she nodded slowly.

“There’s a hotel down the street,” she said.

My heart rate spiked. “Is that an invitation?”

“It’s a statement of fact.” She pulled back slightly. “What you do with that information is up to you.”

I stood and offered her my hand.

She took it.

***

The hotel door hadn’t even clicked shut behind us before I had her pressed against it, her back to the wood, my mouth crashing and I groaned into the into hers like I’d been starving for years. She tasted of strawberries soaked in champagne – addictive kiss, my hands already greedy.

“Last chance to change your mind,” I rasped against her lips, voice rough with restraint.

–

Matilda’s answer was to fist my shirt, yank me closer, and bite my lower lip hard enough to make my vision spark. “Shut up, Kevin.”

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