Only the rich and famous ever get invited.
Did Chance Gregory care?
He didn't get the memo either.
It was a red tie and stilettos event.
Which meant men were to wear red ties, with well-tailored suits, while their female counterparts were to wear red stilettos, that matched their fancy dresses.
Chance on another hand, nothing of the sort, he snuck in, pretending to be apart of the waiting staff.
He was dressed in a pair of black washed-out skinny jeans, and a yellow buttoned-down shirt that was stained from his interview last week at Burger King.
His sandy blond hair up in what he called a Chance bun, to top it off he needed a bath.
Chance noticed the stares he got but didn't care, while everyone else paid to be at the Gala, he got in for free.
Grabbing two glasses of champagne off of a passing tray, he raised one in the direction of the security that has watchful eyes on him.
He then thought it best to move to a more dense area, or somewhere out of sight.
“I like your style, stranger.”
Chance just sat back to relax in an oversize, yet comfortable sofa, when the voice came, one which raises above all the others that whispered to each other.
He straightened in an upright position, gazing in the direction of the voice, peering back at him are two mischievous gray eyes.
The black-haired billionaire player.
The said one all the ladies at the Gala whispered about.
His name on the tips of all their tongues, rolling smoothly off their lips.
But how could they not?
A 6"2 god, being in their presence. A god-like man voted Megamale's sexiest most eligible man alive ever.
With his lopsided smile on thin pink lips, a 5 o'clock shadow on a strong jawline. Straight nose, and a body that would put Zac Efron to shame.
Even dogs and old people stopped to stare.
He knew he was hot, and used it to his advantage.
Not to mention he is the son of some rich beyond measure greedy wolf, who cheated his way to the top, and now owns a multibillion-dollar telecommunication company.
Word on the street was that Mr. player is a generous lover, one that never visits the same women twice, no matter how much they begged.
This gained him his fair share of obsessive, crazy bitches, that would stop at nothing for him to be in their pants again.
One even mailed a finger to him, which made him laugh at the time, wondering if it was the middle one.
Fawning admirers surrounded the rich kid, so why would he be addressing Chance?
“My style?” Chance inquired.
'He must’ve been watching me.' Chance thought to himself.
The billionaire’s expression is amused. “I saw you, sweetheart. Sneaking in here, acting like one of us.”
Chance face warm at that.
He called him sweetheart.
Now, Chance is not one to take interest in men, but those words did something to him.
Crap, Chance almost choked on his drink, when a sexy smile curve on his approacher's lips.
'Wait, who the hell was he calling sweetheart?' Chance ball his fists.
The sexy rich man before him smiled even more, again Chance's face heats up.
'Blushing? Maybe, but why?'
Has a street, rowdy, smart ass he never blushes.
“We do what we can, who said the world was only for the rich?” Chance tried for a smirk, taking a long drink from his flute.
The billionaire laughed, the rich sound is pleasing to everyone's ears.
A lock of shoulder-length black hair falling over one of his gray eyes, was just typical, which he smooth back.
His smooth skin is sunkissed, maybe from surfing most days, when he wasn't busy fucking.
His high cheekbones tinged with healthy color, and dimples.
'Bloody good looking just like the magazines says.' Chance had to turn his eyes away.
"The world is mine for the taking." Chance flashed him an even more gorgeous boyish grin, just right after calming down his racing heart.
“A charmer, aren’t you?” He has a thick English accent.
'But, wasn't he American?' Chance wonders.
“Come join us.” The billionaire motions with his head.
Everyone in the room seemed to be watching their exchange, holding their breath.
'What does he want with me?' Chance tried to figure it out.
“I’m good, thanks.” Chance reply, after a beat.
Collective gasps spread across the room, all eyes now watching them intently.
The billionaire's head shot up with surprise.
'Maybe the first time he was ever rejected.' Chance decides.
With a slow lazy grin spreading over his face, the billionaire closes the distance between him and Chance.
Then stoops down so they are at eye level.
Admirers shot Chance killing looks.
As if he had sought this attention, and called it upon himself, well he kind of did. But still.
He is straight and isn't into whatever is running through the female's jealous mind.
Chance noticed that Mr. player is a few inches shorter than his seven feet figure.
Whereas Chance has a brawny build, the billionaire has lean muscles.
But can Chance take him if need be, surely others will join the fight, not to mention security, and personal bodyguards.
"What do you want with me?" Chance finally let out, getting agitated.
“For now, I’ll have your name.” The billionaire smiled, showing off perfect rows of pearly whites.
"Chance Greg--- Just Chance for now," he gradually answers.
“Well, I’m Royalty Kristoff Pantovic the 3rd. Call me Kris.” He extends a hand, his smile never wavering.
“Royalty?” Chance questioned, his tone mocking.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you more, but I am somewhat of a prince.” Kristoff smiled again.
'Is he toying with me?' Chance narrowed his eyes at Kristoff.
“You joined me for a reason. . . .” Chance dragged on.
“Perhaps I seek friendship. Tell me about yourself.” Kristoff seemed genuinely interested, but then again he could easily fake it.
'Why waste his time with me? Unlike the others here,' Chance thought.
He has little money, zero education, grew up on the streets. Feeding on scraps from garbage bins, and wearing rags.
He was the beggar, the only name they called him.
"What is your interest with me? I'm sure you don't want friendship when you have all these people around you." Chance wave his left hand around, he was ready to leave, to avoid embarrassment.
“My interest at present is in your mind, Chance. I'm very curious, your type of people and their behavior fascinates me. So please if you may, answer a few of my questions, and share some drinks with me." Amazingly Kristoff's smile never dropped once, leaving his face unreadable.
'Just as I thought, he only wants to make a mockery of me.' Chance put his half-empty glass down, ready to leave.
Kristoff calls for the most expensive bottle for them, which was more than just exquisite.
He then joins Chance on the sofa, sitting too close to comfort.
If Chance moved in the slightest, he will be rubbing up against him.
"You are too close." Chance tried to push him away, but it was like pushing at a brick wall.
He then tried to leave but found himself standing in place after seeing the bottle the busty waitress was bringing over.
He has no idea of what Kristoff calls it, and he wasn't going to try either.
'Is it french, is it Spanish?'
'Maybe just one sip.' Chance debates.
“Maybe I can stay for around.” Chance didn’t want to return to home yet anyway, it isn't even that much of a home to be exact. But keeping the elements out, and that was enough for him.
“Excellent choice.” Kristoff flashed him a nod of praise.
“Ah, sweetheart, what fun you and I shall have together.” Kristoff laughs.
For some reason, a shiver ran across Chance nape, the billionaire's words were harmless enough.
'So why do I feel like I just agree to far more than a drink?
Chance gave a nervous laugh, as the two toast to the night.