Bright Lights and Summer Nights: A Fake Dating Billionaire Sports Romance (Black Tie Billionaires)

Emma didn’t have anything to worry about with tennis. She’s held her own with every doubles match we’ve won. We’re in the very last game of the tournament, playing against Jackson and Peyton.

I hand Emma the ball, trying not to notice the way her skin gleams underneath the sun. “It’s your serve.”

She bites her lip, her eyes looking at a huddled Peyton and Jackson before looking back at me. “I’m nervous.”

I scoff. “Don’t be. If we lose, at least it’s to the bride and groom.”

I’m shocked we made it to the final round of the tournament. Not because of Emma swearing she was terrible at tennis, but because I found it hard to concentrate on anything but her. I’m competitive by nature. It’s my job to be. But today, my focus has been mostly on Emma.

I couldn’t look away during our first match when she realized she wasn’t half-bad. The first time she clapped her hands in excitement while she bounced on her feet made my chest feel tight. When we won the first match and she did the most adorable happy dance that was completely out of rhythm, she stole my breath.

And when we won the semifinal match and she threw her body against mine in celebration, I realized I’ll think about this woman for the rest of my life.

“You ready?” Emma asks, grabbing my bicep.

I nod, realizing I’d spaced out in the middle of the court. “Let’s get this win.”

She gives me a warm smile before taking position. I rock from left to right on the balls of my feet, ready for her to serve. Jackson and Peyton won a set, and so have Emma and I. Whoever wins this next one wins the match, and I know it’s a lot of pressure on Emma for it to be her turn to serve.

“You’ve got this, Emma!” Gram cheers from the sidelines. She’s been emphatically cheering for both sides during this match. When Peyton once gave her a look of betrayal, she just shrugged and made a comment about how both of us were her grandchildren and that she wouldn’t pick favorites.

Emma bounces the ball a couple of times before lifting it above her head and serving it. I follow it, shocked when it goes straight into the net.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“We won!” Peyton cheers, jumping up and down in excitement.

“Well, shit,” Emma says from behind me, her voice not sounding nearly as disappointed as I thought it’d be. If I’ve learned anything about her during this tennis tournament, it’s that she doesn’t like to lose. She’s extremely competitive, and her reaction to losing this match doesn’t match up with how she’s acted every other one. Especially since the reason we lost is because of her serve.

My head cocks to the side as I narrow my eyes on her. Peyton’s cheers can still be heard behind me, but I don’t pay attention to anything but Emma. She comes to a stop right in front of me.

Her hands fall to her sides as she shrugs. “Sorry for losing the game for us, Rhodes.”

“You lost on purpose.”

Her eyes go wide as she takes a step closer to me. She looks around, her eyes darting back and forth as if she’s afraid someone heard me. No one can—they’re all busy congratulating Peyton and Jackson on the win.

“I have no idea what you mean.” She straightens her spine before throwing her ponytail over her shoulder. I see right through her trying to play it cool.

“You’ve consistently served the last three matches. You’re telling me you just so happened to mess that last one up?”

“Yep.”

I shake my head. “Liar.”

I keep the rest of my thoughts to myself. If she doesn’t want to admit she lost on purpose, she doesn’t have to. But I still know. And admire her for it. I would’ve felt bad as well if we had won and taken the attention away from Peyton today. It made sense to give them the game. I’m just a little shocked Emma cared enough to have that same thought too.

One of Jackson’s groomsmen comes running up to us. I’m about to tell him I’m busy when he runs right past me and goes straight for Emma.

“I know the loss is tough, but you played great. I’m impressed.” I think his name is Derrick—or was it Patrick—either way, he can fuck right off from talking to my girlfriend.

Much to my dismay, Emma gives him a wide smile. One that I’d tricked myself into thinking she only gives me. “Thank you, Eric. That means a lot coming from a former tennis star.”

My teeth grind against each other as I clench my hands at my sides.

He takes a step closer to her as he waves at the air dismissively. “It was just in college.”

I fight the urge to make a nasty comment. Instead, all I do is stare daggers in Emma’s direction, wondering why she’s even giving this guy the time of day.

“That’s still very impressive,” Emma comments. She places her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. The smile on her face never slips, only fueling my jealousy. At least Davis, the bartender from yesterday, isn’t here to comment on how I’m acting.

I’m contemplating how mad she’d be with me if I pulled her away and cut her conversation with Eric short. But I find myself not caring, so I clear my throat. “Emma.” Her name comes out forced as I take a step closer to her.

She turns to look at me, the smile slipping slightly. “Yes?”

“Maybe we should go congratulate the winners?” I offer, holding my hand out for her to take.

“We probably should. Good talking to you, Eric.”

I let out a breath of relief when she takes my hand and lets me lead her away from him.

Peyton and Jackson have a circle of people surrounding them, forcing us to wait on the outskirts of the group until someone moves. I use the opportunity to turn and place my body in front of Emma’s, blocking her view of anyone else.

“Do I need to kiss you right now?”

Her pink lips part as her eyes dart to look around us. “No. Why?”

“So Derrick knows he can’t have you.”

She stares at me incredulously. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not known to be funny.”

Emma shakes her head at me. “You’re ridiculous. His name is Eric, not Derrick, and I was just trying to be friendly.”

A flash of anger runs through me at the way she says his name. Why do I hate it coming from her mouth so much? “Friendly, huh?”

She nods. “Yes. Just being friendly with him. You have nothing to worry about, sugar muffin.” The pet name is said sarcastically. She knows exactly how to ruffle my feathers. I have no doubt she knows how jealous that encounter made me and she’s loving it.

Emma starts to walk to Peyton, but I grab her by the waist and pull her to me. Her back is flush to my chest as I lean down and talk right next to her ear. “Are you teasing me, rebel?”

The muscles of her stomach tighten when my hands find the curve of her hips. “Maybe a little,” she admits, her voice breathless.

I’m well aware that there are tons of eyes on us at the moment, but I don’t care. All I want to do is make sure Emma knows the only man here who can take care of her is me. “I don’t like being jealous. I’ve always gotten everything I’ve ever wanted; the feeling isn’t something I’m used to. I don’t want to feel it again.”

My fingertips slip slightly into the waistband of her tennis skirt. I want to keep moving them down until I’m met with her pussy, which I’m dying to get a taste of again, but we unfortunately have an audience. Luckily, everyone is focused on Peyton and Jackson to notice us off to the side.

“Then don’t be jealous,” Emma offers.

“Wish it was that easy, rebel. You look at another man, and I become jealous. It’s a problem.”

Emma turns to face me. The movement forces my hands from her waistband, making me frown. I already miss the feel of her skin against mine. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.” She glides her finger across my chest before stepping back and winking. “Now, let’s go congratulate the winners.”

She shoulders through two of P’s bridesmaids—including Marsha—and pulls Peyton in for a hug. “Congratulations,” she says excitedly. “Not only are you the hottest bride but a hot tennis star too.”

Peyton scoffs, squeezing Emma closer to her body. “I swore we were going to lose. You and Preston were good.”

“Not as good as you.”

Peyton rolls her eyes. “Enough working out for the day. Now that we won, I’m ready for the spa.”

Emma’s eyes light up as she looks from Peyton to me. “Spa?”

Peyton narrows her eyes on me. “Pres, did you not tell Emma we had the spa rented out for the day?”

“He seemed to have forgotten to mention that to me,” Emma answers with a tight smile.

I shrugged. “Surprise. We’re having a spa day.”

Peyton sighs, giving me a suspicious look before focusing back on Emma. “Now I really know you were committed to celebrating my wedding. You agreed to tennis, not knowing there was a day of pampering after?”

Emma laughs. Her ponytail swings in the air with the movement, and all I can think about is how badly I want to run my fingers through her hair while I kiss her. “I really was going to take one for the team.”

“Well, in that case, you’ve earned a reward. Right, Preston?”

I smirk, thinking of the exact way I want to reward her. “Yes, she has.”