My Billionaire Baller

My Billionaire Baller: A Second Chance at Love Romance Love in the City (Book 1) J. J. Lovejoy Innovacity Media Solutions, LLC Copyright Copyright © 2023 by J. J. Lovejoy All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents 1. Chapter One: MacKenzie 2. Chapter Two: Rafael 3. Chapter Three: MacKenzie 4. Chapter Four: Rafael 5. Chapter Five: MacKenzie 6. Chapter Six: Rafael 7. Chapter Seven: MacKenzie 8. Chapter Eight: Rafael 9. Chapter Nine: MacKenzie 10. Chapter Ten: Rafael 11. Chapter Eleven: MacKenzie 12. Chapter Twelve: Rafael 13. Chapter Thirteen: MacKenzie 14. Chapter Fourteen: Rafael 15. Chapter Fifteen: MacKenzie 16. Chapter Sixteen: Rafael 17. Chapter Seventeen: MacKenzie 18. Chapter Eighteen: Rafael 19. Chapter Nineteen: MacKenzie 20. Chapter Twenty: Rafael 21. Chapter Twenty-One: MacKenzie 22. Chapter Twenty-Two: Rafael 23. Chapter Twenty-Three: MacKenzie 24. Chapter Twenty-Four: Rafael 25. Chapter Twenty-Five: MacKenzie 26. Chapter Twenty-Six: Rafael 27. Chapter Twenty-Seven: MacKenzie 28. Chapter Twenty-Eight: Rafael 29. Chapter Twenty-Nine: MacKenzie 30. Chapter Thirty: Rafael 31. Chapter Thirty-One: MacKenzie 32. Chapter Thirty-Two: Rafael 33. Chapter Thirty-Three: MacKenzie 34. Chapter Thirty-Four: Rafael 35. Chapter Thirty-Five: MacKenzie 36. Epilogue: Jenny Russell Did You Miss Chicago and Liam's Love Story? What's Next in the Series? About J. J. Lovejoy Chapter One: MacKenzie B oston I look at the piles of clothes on my bed and wide-open moving boxes nearly filled to capacity scattered around my apartment. But the pitter-patter of raindrops falling on my living room window pulls me away from thinking about what to pack and where to put it. I should focus on my upcoming trip to my best friend’s wedding and my move to San Francisco. My BFF, Chicago, means the world to me, and I wouldn’t miss her wedding for anything or anyone. But my heart isn’t in it. My heart hurts. I need a distraction and a bigger one in my life than rain. As lightning streaks across the sky, inspiration flashes simultaneously. What happens in Fiji…stays in Fiji. Right? It doesn’t only apply to Las Vegas. Not that it matters. I need some distracting fun, and Fiji is the perfect place. And the perfect way to mend my broken heart. A little island fling halfway across the globe sounds like just what the doctor ordered. This is just what I need to get my mind off what Tristan did. Tristan. That bastard. Even the soothing sound of rain is not enough to save me from a trip down memory lane. Tristan and I had been dating for a few years and started living together six months ago. I thought we were on the right track to the white picket fence and all that, but little did I know that the familiarity of living together would lead me to the awful truth. Tristan was cheating—lord only knows for how long or how many times. He must have thought he was clever, sliding into DM mode with this Melody woman—whomever she was—while I wasn’t paying attention. Lucky for me, he isn’t as smart as he thinks. He forgot we not only shared a bed but also a computer as just one user. We both have Facespace accounts, and he forgot to log out one morning. Memories of that exact moment come flooding back into my mind. No matter how many times I had tried to abolish them, they had taken up rent-free space there. I had just come home to grab lunch and clicked on the laptop. He was still logged in to Facespace’s messaging app, and I heard the notifications ding several times in rapid succession. Someone was messaging at that moment. Curiosity got the best of me, and I opened the message thread. It displayed someone’s name I didn’t recognize. But I saw those little dots that betrayed he was responding immediately. He was talking about his “mean roommate.” Air escaped my lungs, and I found it hard to breathe. My eyes were glued to the screen; I could not look away. What the actual fuck? Are you freaking kidding me? My brain whirred in a million directions at once, not quite able to process what I was witnessing. He had to be on his phone right then. What does he mean by roommate? He doesn’t have a roommate; he has a girlfriend. Me. Or so I thought. What the absolute hell? I continued to watch the horror unfold right in front of me. He told her how beautiful she was and how he loved touching, kissing, and making love to her. He told her how mean I was and that I didn’t understand him as she did. He didn’t love me anymore—and didn’t know if he ever had—and even said he couldn’t stand to be around me. She replied that we were just strangers living in the same apartment. She couldn’t understand why he put up with his roommate. What a bitch. I wondered if he had told her we were still sleeping together and, knowing Tristan, probably not. He was a bastard, undoubtedly lying to both of us. He had probably played to both sides to get what he wanted from whoever was closest, whenever he wanted. Such a bastard. I continued reading. The tiny dots that flashed disappeared when he returned his next message. Tristan responded that he loved her. I clamped my eyes shut and shook my head. My mind was on overload, and I could not process that thought at that moment. My chest felt tight, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and adrenaline surged through my body. This. Was. Not. Happening. But it was. I finally looked away from the screen. I couldn’t watch the dissolution of my dreams unfolding right in front of me any longer. The world seemed to contract around me. Angry tears fell. But I wasn’t just angry. I was hurt. I flipped the laptop screen down—as if making the