One Chance

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One Chance Page 1

by Best, Victoria J.




  One Chance (One Series #3)

  Copyright © 2020 by Victoria J. Best

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published: Victoria J. Best 2020

  [email protected]

  Cover design: Tiffany Black at T.E. Black Designs

  Editing by: Monique Fisher

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Epilogue

  Bonus Epilogues

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Nicolette

  I did it again. Let myself do it again. Here I was, sobbing on the floor of the shower, hugging my knees to my chest, and I didn’t even know the guy’s last name. I’d vowed to stop, to tell someone about it, to tell my therapist about it, but I never did. Old habits die hard. I dealt with my grief and my pain by self-sabotaging. Anonymous sex was my version of cutting. But this was the last time—it had to be the last time.

  I didn’t think I could handle it anymore.

  My phone buzzed from where I’d left it on the bathroom vanity. I just knew it was Liza. I’d abandoned her, again, for a guy. A guy I didn’t even want to see again. A guy I was pretty sure wouldn’t care if he never saw me again. Another sob ripped through me and I hugged my knees closer to my chest. The water turned cold, the ice-cold pellets feeling like needles in my back. I had to get out of here. If I stayed in here much longer, the guy—Mason, he’d said his name was—would come looking for me.

  That couldn’t happen.

  Taking a deep breath, I stood, shut the water off with a flick of my hand, and squeezed the excess water from my hair. I opened the shower door and searched for a towel, relieved to find one on the rack. After quickly drying off, I pulled my clothes on with the same speed, put the towel neatly back on the rack, then grabbed my phone from the counter and slipped from the bathroom as silently as I could. As I was leaving, I caught a glimpse of myself in the large mirror above the vanity and winced. One-night stands didn’t look good on me.

  I didn’t bother to wake the guy and tell him I was leaving—it wasn’t like he cared anyway. The Uber I’d ordered was at the curb. I swiftly got into the car, not looking back at the building I’d just exited. I wouldn’t ever be going back.

  Henry

  “I’ll have another scotch.” I waved a hand at the waitress, ignoring my cousin’s derisive stare. He had no business judging me when he barely had his shit together.

  “Another, Harry?” Jackson, my cousin, raised an eyebrow.

  I snorted. “Why the hell not, Jax? It’s not like I have a job to go to tomorrow. You and my mother made sure of that.”

  I tossed back the scotch, not caring that it burned all the way down. Another few and I wouldn’t feel it anymore. I wouldn’t feel anything.

  “Is that really so smart? Aunt Bea is making you go to therapy tomorrow.”

  “Fuck her and her therapy.” If I was sober, I wouldn’t mean it, but right now, with the alcohol burning in my gut, I did.

  Jackson gave me another judgmental look before blowing out a long sigh and turning away from me. If he didn’t want me to drink, why the fuck did he ask me to come to this club? Perhaps I wouldn’t have another, especially since Mother was forcing me to go to therapy in the morning. But when I looked up to tell Jax that I’d decided not to have another drop of alcohol tonight, he was gone.

  So much for the ‘support system’ he and my mother were always talking about. I couldn’t remember the last time she supported me—her or my father. But Jax, he was their golden boy, their golden ticket to fame and fortune. Mother and Father always ensured Jackson was happy.

  Somehow, they managed to forget about their actual son.

  I shrugged. It didn’t matter. I was a grown-ass man. I was tired of feeling sorry for myself and playing by their rules.

  “Another scotch, please. Actually, make it a bottle,” I shouted to the waitress over the music in the club.

  If I was going to get wasted, I was going to do it right.

  Chapter 1

  Nicolette

  I noticed his eyes first: the green so bright they almost looked like shining emeralds, beacons of light calling me in like a moth to a flickering flame. The rest of his features registered piece by piece, only highlighting the previous one—the strong jaw, the dark hair combed slightly to one side, the nose that was slightly hooked but made him look more handsome than silly. There was an air about him, an aura, something I couldn’t determine that made me feel drawn to him in a way I had never felt when meeting a man the first time. Usually, the default when I met a man was wondering if he could numb my pain. But this time, this man, made me want things I never thought I would ever want. I froze mid-step in the middle of the restaurant, with Liza to my right.

  This man made me want to fix everything that was broken inside me after just one glimpse of him.

  “Nic, are you ready?” Liza grabbed my arm to pull me toward the table where the two men sat.

  I shook off the weirdness, pretending to be my usual perky self for Liza’s sake. Inside I was reeling, unable to calm the somersaults in my stomach. I needed a drink.

  Introductions were made as we sat, though Liza was the one not acting herself now. The man who had caught my attention was Henry—Henry Radcliffe-Rogers—and I had the misfortune of being set up with his cousin Jackson.

  “I think maybe our parents may have made a mistake,” he whispered to me as I glanced at Liza from the corner of my eye for the fifth time. She was acting so strange.

  My stomach fluttered when he spoke to me directly. His voice was smooth like molasses. It felt like a caress, and the sound gave me goosebumps.

  “Really?” I asked, playing coy, but I was sure he could see right through me.

  “I think we’re better suited for one another, don’t you?”

  I turned to look at him fully now, shifting my body away from my friend and towards him. His emerald eyes bored into mine, so brilliant they almost made my own amber eyes ache under their stare. There was so much I wanted to say to him, to ask him. It was completely out of char
acter for me.

  I glanced at Jackson, who had his eyes firmly on Liza. “I think you may be right,” I whispered, leaning closer to Henry, making the encounter more intimate.

  My heart beat a mile a minute, but on the outside, I seemed calm and collected.

  “Tell me about yourself, Nicolette,” Henry asked, raising the glass of amber liquid to his mouth and taking a sip.

  “I’m a junior executive at a marketing firm in the city, but my passion is fashion.” The last few words slipped out before I could stop them. I was pretty sure that was the first time I had ever uttered them out loud.

  “Fashion? I used to work in fashion until a month ago when my cousin and my mother kicked me off the board of their company,” Henry said the words bitterly, spitting them out with a sideways glance at his cousin. Jackson gave him a small, curt nod, his eyes so dark they were like molten lava, before turning back to Liza.

  “Oh, uh, I’m sorry to hear that.” The conversation was getting off track, and I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  An awkward silence fell over the table, but luckily, the waiter appeared just in time to take our orders. I glanced at Liza when the waiter left, but she was staring intently past Jackson, as if she was avoiding making eye contact.

  “Liza, the ladies’ room?” I reminded her through gritted teeth.

  I needed a moment away to regroup, and clearly she did, too. This time she accepted. We made our way to the back of the restaurant, pushing into the empty bathroom as I pulled Liza behind me.

  “What is going on, Liza? I know you hate blind dates, but can you be a little less rude, please?” I said. Even though things had gone off the rails with Henry for a bit, I still wanted to get to know him. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to know him.

  “I’ve met him before,” she said hastily and with resignation.

  “Who? Henry?” Worry crept into my gut as I thought about her and Henry.

  Liza shook her head. “No, Jackson.”

  My eyes grew wide. “Where? When? What happened?”

  “It’s a long story and I really don’t want to . . .” she started, but I cut her off, grabbing her by the shoulders to pull her closer.

  “You met him at the club when I stood you up, didn’t you!” I yelled in a stage whisper, shaking her shoulders.

  “Yes,” she muttered.

  “Shit, Liza! Did you sleep with him?” I asked, my mind reeling with follow-up questions.

  She nodded again and bowed her head.

  “Liza!” I yelled.

  Guilt gripped my chest, because even though I’d told her I went home with a guy, I never told her the details. I abandoned my best friend to have sex with a guy to numb my pain, and here she was on this awkward blind date because of me.

  I was a terrible friend.

  I started to ask her more questions, but two women entered the bathroom, laughing and joking. We grew silent, our eyes meeting in the mirror as the women spoke.

  “Did you see who was seated at the back of the restaurant?” one woman in a very tight dress asked the other.

  “Oh my God, yes! Henry Radcliffe-Rogers and Jackson Radcliffe! I heard they are quite the womanizers. They can womanize me any day,” the other woman, with bleached-out hair said.

  “Should we go talk to them?” Tight Dress asked her friend.

  Bleached Blonde thought for a minute as she caked powder on her face. “Nah, it looks like they’re on a date. I bet if we went to that club downtown that they frequent later, we would see them there without their dates.”

  “Yes! I saw them both there last week. Jackson was surrounded by blondes.” Tight Dress patted her hair, which had so many blonde highlights she looked like a skunk.

  The women left, and Liza looked at me, her face grim. “I think we should leave,” Liza said.

  I sighed, because even though I didn’t like hearing some hoochies in a bathroom discuss how much of a womanizer the guy I was on a date with was, I didn’t want to leave.

  “I don’t want to leave. I don’t care what some hoochies in the bathroom say about Henry. I really like him, Liza.”

  Liza sighed, but the irritation that had been painting her face from the moment we walked into this place fell away. After an additional plea, she finally caved, the same way she had when I asked her to come with me on this date. Because Liza was a better friend to me than I was to her.

  I told myself I would do my best to make it up to her later as we walked back to the table. I also made her promise to give me all the details about Jackson, but she ignored me.

  When we reached the table, our food had arrived. Henry and Jackson pulled our chairs out for us and we sat, exchanging a look. The men seemed to notice, exchanging their own look before they picked up their forks to eat.

  For a while, there was silence at the table. I’ve never cared for awkward silences, always feeling the need to fill them, so I turned to Henry again.

  “What was your position in the company?” I asked him as I pushed a forkful of Caesar salad into my mouth.

  Henry turned to me, setting his knife and fork down on his plate. “I was in charge of marketing. But our sales began tanking this year, so Mother decided to hire someone new to ‘pick up the slack.’”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, looking down at my plate.

  Henry seemed bitter about his relationship with his mother and their company. The urge to try to fix whatever was wrong overtook me. I was a fixer, a problem solver, and I wanted to help him, but I didn’t want to press him further, either. My mind was blank on something else to say, though. Instead, I turned to Liza, bringing up her job as a kindergarten teacher. She shot me a death stare, which seemed to set Jackson off.

  While the two of them bantered, I turned back to Henry. He was brooding silently into his glass of scotch.

  “I’m sorry I brought up the company again.” He looked so dejected that I felt the need to apologize.

  Henry sighed, turning those stunning eyes back to me with a smirk on his face. “You don’t have to apologize. I was being a dick. How about we talk about something else?”

  “Okay, what do you want to talk about?” I answered with a smirk of my own. The figurative ball was solidly in his court.

  He wagged a finger at me, setting his glass down with a chuckle. Leaning back against his chair, he glanced over at his cousin and Liza before he leaned toward me again.

  “What do you think is up with those two?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

  I shrugged, mimicking his movements of leaning in. “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret,” I said in an even quieter voice, keeping my hand over my mouth to cover my words, my eyes darting to Liza and Jackson as if I were afraid they would hear me.

  Henry laughed, loudly, the sound echoing throughout the small dining room. Several people turned to look at us, and my face heated at the attention. But Henry didn’t notice. If he did, he didn’t seem to care. His attitude helped me relax and I paid no attention to the other patrons.

  He winked at me. “Maybe you’ll tell me another time, then?”

  My stomach flipped, butterflies attacking it. He wanted to see me again.

  “It’s a date,” I answered boldly.

  We ate in silence for a bit, no one talking, not even Liza and Jackson. Finally, Henry turned to me again, his face serious.

  “Tell me something about yourself that nobody else knows,” he whispered.

  I thought hard, images of my mother popping into my head unexpectedly—finding her on the floor with the empty pill bottle, and the guilt that still ate at me for staying after school that day. If I had only come home in time . . .

  No, now was not the time to think about that.

  “My dad owns a small vineyard in Napa.” That was a lot more lighthearted than finding my mother dead in the bathroom when I was teenager.

  “That’s the best you can do?” His eyes were intense as he stared at me.

  I didn’t answer him right awa
y. “For now,” I said cryptically.

  “Okay. Fair enough. I’ve got one for you.” He leaned in closer, licking his lips. I couldn’t look away. “You and I are going to get to know one another very well.”

  I laughed, unable to control my reaction at his words. He was cocky as hell, but also sexy as hell. I was in trouble.

  Henry cocked an eyebrow at me but didn’t say a word, and the rest of the dinner passed with us chatting casually. We talked about more benign things. He told me about his love of sailing and Formula One cars, and I told him about my love of fashion, shopping, and all things designer related. Our conversation steered to and from family. I talked about my dad, while leaving out the turmoil of my mother taking her own life, though I did mention that she was dead. He talked about his parents and Jax, though when he veered off too much into their relationships, we both changed the subject.

  “Mother never misses a chance to tell me I chose the wrong profession.”

  We were back to his mother again, my mind searching for a way to change the contentious subject. After only a few hours with him, it was clear he and his mother didn’t get along.

  “Do you enjoy being in fashion?”

  “I did, but I’m more of a numbers guy. Like my dad.” I heard something affectionate in his voice when he spoke of his father. It was endearing.

 

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