Because of Adam (Billionaires of Palm Beach #4)

Prologue

It was good to be king. Very good.

Beneath Adam Greene’s bedroom balcony, the ten-piece band played.

A woman with wavy red hair and a sequined skirt crooned into a microphone.

Two hundred guests mingled on his manicured lawn, breaking into small groups as they compared stories and one-upped each other under the guise of polite conversation.

Catering staff passed champagne, pork dumplings, caviar on toast, and bite-sized wedges of caramelized Brie to people dressed in clothing worthy of editorial spreads in Vogue or Town and Country.

At the shoreline edge, a long strand of Chinese lanterns illuminated the Intracoastal Waterway, and on command, performers dressed as can-can dancers from the Moulin Rouge, and clowns from a bohemian circus exited through the sliding glass doors of the downstairs guest room out onto the lawn.

Soon, fireworks would light up the night, bursting for the amusement of people who hardly knew each other. They hardly knew him.

But did that matter? He’d done it. This was Palm Beach’s most extravagant New Year’s Eve party. It would make all the social columns and circle the gossip mills in town.

Just as he had designed.

Adam sipped his bourbon on the rocks and stared at his guests, surveying with triumph how he managed to hold some of the world’s snobbiest, stuffiest people at his command.

He knew many of them by name and reputation.

It wouldn’t matter if Adam made an appearance on the lawn during the party, or if he didn’t.

No one there would dare say they hadn’t seen him.

Sycophants always carried the same fucking playbook.

Loosening his black tuxedo bow tie, Adam sank into the small deck chair that had a permanent place on the balcony.

He placed his empty glass on the console table next to the chair and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the growing disappointment in his heart.

The action didn’t do much good. The party still swirled in his head, and the music ensured he could never fully leave the event, no matter how hard he tried.

A few minutes passed. Maybe ten.

A small rap came on the sliding glass door, followed by its cautious opening, forcing Adam’s eyes apart. Langston stood at the doorway in a dark suit, his hands clasped. “Mr. Greene?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have plans to come down tonight? The fireworks will begin soon and—”

“What?”

“Well, ah…your guests are waiting.”

“They’re hardly doing that. They seem just fine from up here.”

“I know, but don’t you think…” Langston blanched. “It’s New Year’s Eve, sir.”

“I’m well aware.”

“And perhaps you might like to mingle with the people here tonight.”

“This is the fourth party I’ve thrown in the last month.” The fourth, and the season has only just begun. “I haven’t appeared at any of them. That’s my pattern, and you know it.”

Langston shot him a tight smile. If he had an opinion on this, he chose not to verbalize it, but Adam still saw disapproval in the way his expression faded into a downturned mouth. “I suppose tonight will be more of the same?”

Adam replied with a curt nod.

“Very well,” Langston said. “I’ll tell the fireworks company they can begin the show. We didn’t want to start without you.”

“I’ll enjoy it from here.”

“As you wish.” Langston gave him a small bow and backed off the balcony.

Adam picked up his glass again and swirled the melting ice cube.

He peered through the wooden rails at the party.

The people having a fabulous time at his expense below grew drunker and more raucous with each passing minute, and soon the swell of their laughter grated on his nerves.

He knew he should follow Langton’s advice, anyone in their right mind would.

He should be a good host, go downstairs, and greet them all.

But he didn’t have the energy. Or the desire.

Besides, he’d have to throw another party next week. Then the next. And the next. And all because…

She hadn’t shown up. She wasn’t in the crowd.

This night was the same as the week before, and the week before that.

From his perch, he’d given everyone at his house a careful once-over, looking for the woman who was the very reason he’d moved to Palm Beach, the very reason he’d secured a mansion in one of Florida’s most desirable zip codes.

Christ, where is she?

He’d expected her to show up with one of the tech bros, old-money scions, or aging billionaires that littered the skinny tropical island from December to May.

The woman he knew would never pass on a good party.

She might as well have socialite branded on her soul.

He’d followed all her exploits, never missing one.

Indeed, the last few years of her life had been an exercise in how to dance at the top of the heap—a myriad of blog posts chronicled her escapades around the globe, and appearances at society balls.

While a woman like her certainly had options, Palm Beach wasn’t a large place. Paths inevitably crossed.

Except, so far, they hadn’t.

Yet.

Frustrated, Adam got up from the chair and went inside to the master bedroom, kicking his black dress shoes off as he went.

He shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and stripped off the rest of his clothes, down to his underwear.

Once in the adjoining bathroom, he took an Ambien from the medicine cabinet and swallowed it without any water.

Then he threw himself face first onto the king-sized bed.

When the first fireworks burst into the sky above his property, Adam Greene was already asleep.