The Billionaire Daredevil

THE BILLIONAIRE DAREDEVIL A SECOND CHANCE FRIEND TO LOVERS ROMANCE LAS VEGAS BILLIONAIRES ANA SWAN Copyright © 2023 by Ana Swan All rights reserved. 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. CONTENTS 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 Epilogue Sneak Peak of The Billionaire Dad FREE Novella: The Billionaire Boss ONE MURPHY “It’s too quiet. You know that we’re going to get swamped by incoming patients at some point, right?” Langley says with her feet up on the nurse’s station desk. “The quiet never lasts; it’s like the quiet before the fuckening.” I giggle at her description. We all know that any time you say it’s quiet, then all hell breaks loose, and the ER gets flooded with incoming trauma, and we all end up working extra hours and covering shifts. Langley is scrolling through her phone, the never-ending social media feed. She lives for gossip and celebrity news. It’s her hobby, being invested in their lives like she knows them. I use social media to watch cute dog videos and stalk my exes. That’s what it’s made for. “Shhh, do not curse us! I want to go home at some point. It’s starting to feel like I live here.” I take these graveyard shifts for the extra income. They pay a lot to work when no one else wants to. The later the shift, the better the pay—I sleep in the daytime, with some great block-out blinds and a comfortable bed at home. It makes no difference if I work days or nights. I like the freedom that the night shift gives me. “You live for the rush of the night shift.” She jokes. “I think we have already had the worst of it for tonight. You can put your feet up too.” Her phone is so close to her face that I can’t read her facial expressions. Whatever she is reading, she is completely invested. “That crazy rich, celebrity wannabe guy is all over the news again,” she mutters, shaking her head. “Are rich kids born stupid? Like, is that the trade-off? Here’s all the money…we are repossessing your brain.” I laugh loudly. She has a way with words. “He was in a high-speed chase with the cops in his fancy-pantsy Ferrari. The moron is gonna get killed, you know they caught him, and he just gets away with it.” I shrug. It must be nice to have enough money to buy your way out of any trouble you’re in—and drive a Ferrari at a million miles an hour down the interstate. “He wasn’t always rich,” I say, not looking up from the charts I am putting into the computer while we have a moment to catch up. “Bullshit! His dad was Vegas royalty. The man was like a God. That shit has had it all. Look at his smug ass face.” She shoves her phone under my nose, and I see the same cocky grin I knew back in high school. Only then he had no Ferrari and no idea who his dad was. Brendon didn’t grow up with a Ferrari—he lived in the suburbs and rode his bicycle to school. I know because he lived next door. I can’t help but smile, thinking back to how we would hang out and ride to school together. Brendon was a constant in my high school years, that boy that was always there. Until he wasn’t anymore. “He was my next-door neighbor. Trust me. He wasn’t always like he is now.” I see him often on the news and gossip columns. I know he lives a wild, playboy life. Nothing like the kid back then who had his head screwed on right. He had goals and ambitions. “Bullshit, you did not live next to Brendon Valentine.” She sounds genuinely shocked. “You grew up in the suburbs where kids rode bikes and played on the lawn. Liar.” I laugh. Langley grew up out of state on a farm in bum-fuck nowhere. The big city and all the glitz fascinates her. “I did, and he and his mom lived next door. We went to the same high school, he played baseball, and I was a track athlete. Completely normal middle class, boring life where nothing and everything happened all at once.” Life was simple then, school, home, and fun. No bills to pay, rent due, work stress, student loans—it was innocent. Brendon and I used to do almost everything together. He liked to visit my house because my mom cooked better than his—or because he was a teenage boy, and two dinners was great to fill the bottomless pit of his stomach. “Was he dumbing back then?” She chuckles. “Like… all high school boys are a bit stupid, but he seems like he just has nothing in there that works.” Langley taps the side of her head. “Have you seen some of the stunts he has pulled? I bet you money he will be wheeled in here one of these days. No one has that much good luck.” Her reference to good luck brings back another wave of nostalgia. He believes in luck. When he turned sixteen, he got a four-leaf clover tattoo so his luck would never run out. Maybe it worked. “He wasn’t as crazy back then,” I say. “All he cared about was baseball and cheerleaders.” That was him, all about sports and girls. Well, certain girls. “He was a sweet guy, smiling and happy. The epitome of high school jock culture, letterman jacket and all.” Langley rolls her eyes. “How bland, here I thought you would have