Suddenly Tempted ((APEX Billionaires’ Club #1))

Chapter 1

DEVLIN

“Devlin! Devlin! Over here!”

Devlin Storm hadn’t even left the building and the shouts had already begun. He stepped out into the crisp, cold winter air, nodding his thanks to the doorman. A crowd of reporters stood beside the path, bundled up in ski jackets and furry hats but still shivering. A line of red cord stopped them from approaching him, as well as a burly security guard, but they all thrust their microphones his way.

“Any word from the conference?” yelled one woman.

“Where will you be on the rich list this year?” said another.

“Any celebrity scandals?” shouted a man.

“Sure,” he called back to the guy. “Me, like always.”

He turned away from them, pulling up the collar of his Brioni suit against the bracing wind that cut through the Royal Alpine luxury resort. The mountains were all around him, a ring of giant peaks so covered in snow that they were almost invisible against the grey sky. Patches of dark forest stood out here and there, along with the lines of the cable cars and ski lifts that carried people up from the resort to the runs. All in all, it looked pretty bleak — certainly not the kind of place you’d expect to pay ￡11,000 a night to stay in.

But this was one of the most exclusive resorts on the planet. Nestled in the foothills above one of Switzerland’s picture-postcard towns, you could barely walk three paces here without bumping into British royalty, American billionaires, or European bankers. Especially this weekend, with the annual APEX Club Retreat taking over the whole resort. Half of the world’s wealth had to be right here, shivering in the unseasonably cold February weather.

“Hey, Devlin,” called a voice behind him. He ignored it, thinking that one of the journalists had broken free to chase him. He heard his name again and turned back, a dark look on his face. When he saw who it was, the scowl turned into a smile.

“Blake? I didn’t think you were here this year?” he said, stopping and turning.

Blake Fielding, billionaire founder of social media site, Heartbook, jogged the last few feet, stopping beside Devlin and wrapping his arms around himself, bouncing up and down on his toes. Unlike most of the other billionaires in the resort, Blake wasn’t dressed up — he wore a woolly sweater and jeans, with a quaint little bobble hat on his head — but that was his thing. Preppy and approachable.

“Yeah,” Blake replied, his teeth chattering. “I wasn’t going to be here, but my board practically forced me out of the building. Told me I needed a holiday and this retreat’s the only place I can properly wind down. Can’t argue with the board now, can we?”

Devlin laughed.

“They wield the real power,” he said.

“That’s the truth,” Blake agreed. “How are you?”

Devlin shrugged. The last thing he wanted to do was start talking about how his life was going. Not now. Despite Blake being the type of friend who would listen without judging. No. Devlin always let the newspapers do the talking for him, and they tended to stick to the same old story: Devlin Anderson Storm, twenty-nine, self-made billionaire, designer whose clothing line and retail empire stretched around the globe. Devlin Storm, the bad boy, who dated models and actresses and left a string of weeping women in his wake. Devlin Storm, the man that men wanted to be, that women wanted to be with, and whose arrogance was almost as legendary as his good looks.

“Oh, you know, same old, same old,” he replied, grinning. “Rich, famous, and as handsome as ever.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Blake, slapping him on the shoulder. “Listen, a few of the gang are hitting the lodge. Nate, Jackson, Christian, all the old faces. You want to join us?”

The APEX Club was exclusive, and his close circle of friends even more so. The kind of close-knit community where Devlin could shuck off the skin that had thickened around him and be amongst friends who weren’t scared to bring him down a peg or two. All the members knew what it was like to be able to buy whatever their hearts desired, because one of the prerequisites was to have a bank balance with at least nine zeros. They all knew what having that kind of money meant in real life too. The assumptions, the prejudice, the loneliness.

“Count me in,” he nodded, stomach twisting at what else the weekend held in store for him. A drink or three first would do him good.

They hustled their way through the crowds and into the warmth of the lodge. Devlin felt his face tighten at the change in temperature and made a mental note to book an oxygen facial as soon as he landed back at home.

“That’s a chiselled jawline I’d recognise even after too many Sapporo,” a voice cut in from the other end of the rich mahogany bar. “Devlin Storm, as I live and breathe.”

Devlin smiled at the man with tousled brown hair and an empire of sweet stores. “Jackson Brodie, you look like a man who’s had too many Sapporo.”

Jackson pulled Devlin in for a hug, hitting his back with the force of someone who’d drunk so many beers he’d forgotten how strong he was. Luckily, Devlin’s back could take it.

“I’m getting in a round, what’ll it be?” Jackson asked, forearms resting on the bar.

Devlin laughed. “You’re getting in a round at a free bar? That’s good of you.”

“Well, Nate put in an order for a Remy Martin so it’s a good job it’s free or I’d be kicked out of APEX.” Jackson crossed his arms and skulked, jokingly.

Nate Parker was in the social media business, like Blake, only his forte was dating apps. Nate could have bought himself a bottle of Remy Martin with loose change. They all could. But none of the men Devlin knew through his club were men who’d use that as a tool, none of them except Devlin himself. He sighed and waved at Nate who was standing at the other end of the lodge with a man Devlin hadn’t seen in years.

“I’ll have the same then. Thanks, mate.” Devlin strode across the floor towards Nate and his friend, a grin growing on his face. “Christian Carroll, who dragged you into the twenty-first century?”

Christian Carroll rolled his eyes and tugged awkwardly at the Tom Ford shirt that he had buttoned right up to his chin. Devlin laughed and pulled him in for a hug.

“Last time I saw you, you were knee deep in wild grasses,” Devlin said, letting the man go. “Now look at you, all dressed up.”

“It’s all against my will, Dev,” Christian replied, his New York accent clipping his words. “And I’ve been forced out of my comfort zone and into a shirt because my old man is insanely annoying and badgering me to go home. So, obviously I came here instead. Couldn’t resist the lure of some guy time before I face whatever he’s got in store for me this time.”

Christian’s family were the Carrolls of New York department-store fame, but Christian had opted out of a life of wealth and had been building his own charitable business constructing schools abroad. Much to his father’s chagrin.

“Drinks, gentlemen.” Jackson appeared with a tray of Waterford crystal cognac glasses, a bottle of Remy Martin, and a wide grin.

Behind him, Blake hovered with the nervous energy of someone watching a bottle of the good stuff teeter precariously on the end of an arm of a man far too drunk to be careful. Devlin took the tray from Jackson with a single nod and placed it on the end of the bar.

“A toast,” he said, pouring the warm, spicy drink into each of their glasses and handing them out to Jackson, Nate, Christian, and Blake. “To the men we once were and the better men we are today.”

Nate snorted on his cognac. “Who forced you to swallow a motivational, self-help guide?” he jibed.

“Your mum,” Devlin joked back, to a roar of laughter.

He sipped his drink, staring at the flames from the fire raging in the inglenook. Though the lodge was warm, Devlin could see the winds picking up outside. Snow was blasting against the windows and the fir trees swayed as though made from paper. Devlin had spent enough of his life in the mountains to know an approaching blizzard when he saw one.

His stomach dropped. He needed to get out of the resort before he was snowed in. “Guys, I might have to take a rain check. There’s something I need to do.”

“Everything okay, Devlin?” Blake tilted his head.

Devlin nodded, slapping Christian on the shoulder and giving the others a salute. He downed his drink in one great gulp and headed towards the door of the lodge, hoping he hadn’t left it too late. An icy wind whipped snow around him as soon as he stepped out, and he shoved his hands in his pockets to stop his fingers turning blue. Devlin had only made it a few feet before Blake called after him.

“Hey, Dev, you okay? You seemed a bit, I don’t know, distracted back there. It gets to us all sometimes, you know. All this . . . Sometimes we all need a bit of what money can’t buy. Happiness. Love. Find love, and everything else makes sense.”

A sad laugh escaped Devlin’s lips, appearing as a cloud of breath in front of him before he could stop it.

“I’ll bear that in mind, Blake,” he remarked, pulling himself together and winking. “Next time I’m sitting in my twenty-million-pound mansion with a bottle of Dom and a woman whose name I’ll have forgotten by the morning.”

A flash lit up the path and Devlin turned to see a reporter there, a cameraman right next to her.

“Devlin, would you care to comment on what you just said?” asked the woman, who was grinning as if she couldn’t believe her luck.

“Sure, I’ll say it again,” Devlin boomed. “I’m rich, I’m happy, and I couldn’t care less about anyone else or anything else, especially love. Now go print that .”

He turned his back on the reporters, walking around the corner and heading for his cabin. His own words haunted him, and he felt bad for saying them. He’d no doubt see it in the morning’s papers, or even hear himself saying it over and over on social media if the reporter had been recording the conversation. He’d have to pretend once again that he didn’t care about anything or anyone other than himself.

And it would be pretending.

Devlin sighed. He wasn’t even sure how this reputation had started. He hadn’t always been a rogue, a bad boy. Back when he’d first started his business, eleven years ago, he’d just wanted to create something beautiful and do something good. But he’d soon learned you needed a tough skin in this world, and his skin had toughened with every passing day until he’d convinced himself he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

And as for the stories about supermodels and Hollywood starlets . . . They were just that . . . stories. All except for his ex, of course, Claudia Romano. She had been a supermodel and an actress, and even though they had parted company a year ago she had taught him the greatest lesson of all: not to trust too easily. He’d known things weren’t working, had ended it cleanly, only for her to turn around and sell their story to the highest bidder. He hadn’t trusted anyone with his life story since.

He didn’t exactly mind the rumours about his dating life, they helped boost his reputation and sell his designs. But after all this time being showboated as a bad boy, how was a man with Devlin’s reputation ever supposed to find someone who genuinely liked him as a person and not the lifestyle he brought with him?

He shook his head. He was way too busy for love, especially this weekend.

This weekend he had a job to do, one that required every ounce of his strength.

Ahead, a door opened in the main building and a group of revellers spilled out, two men and three women. Their laughter filled the evening air, followed by a series of excited squeals as they recognised Devlin. Two of the women ran up to him, shivering in their thin party dresses.

“Can we get a photo?” said one. “Nobody will believe we met you otherwise!”

Devlin didn’t reply. He just stood there and let them take their selfies. He didn’t even smile, just glowered at their cameras the way he always did. He started walking before they’d finished, ignoring their pleas.

He didn’t want to be here anymore. He’d had enough of this place. The APEX Retreat hadn’t been the chance for R&R he’d hoped it would. He’d only come because it was an exclusive event, and in the eyes of the world exclusive meant that’s where they’d find Devlin Storm.

Well, there was another reason he was here, of course. One he hardly dared think about.

His cabin was dead ahead, and he ran the last few yards, grit and ice popping beneath his shoes. He knew he had to move fast, or risk being trapped in the resort for days until the snow cleared. Crossing the luxurious, open space of the cabin, Devlin picked up the phone and waited for it to automatically connect him to reception.

“Hello?” said a voice, one so sweet and lyrical that it almost softened his mood.

Almost.

“It’s Devlin Storm,” he replied. “I need you to ready my helicopter. I’m leaving tonight.”

There was a pause at the other end, one that went on long enough for Devlin to guess what the sweet-voiced girl on the line was about to say.

“I’m sorry, sir, but all flights are already grounded. There’s a storm approaching.”

“No,” he growled, standing up to his full six-three and gripping the phone hard. “There’s a Storm leaving . This Storm. Tonight.”

“It’s too dangerous,” the girl argued, with real concern in her voice. Her compassion was genuine., “Please, don’t risk it.”

“Tonight,” he said. “ Now . Make it happen.”

He ended the call without waiting for a reply. This was bad. He had a job to do in the mountains, and he needed to do it now. Tossing the phone onto the sofa, he walked up the wooden stairs to his bedroom. It was packed full of the things he’d brought with him — way more than he’d ever need for one weekend — but he left it all and walked to the corner where a small, black suitcase sat. Checking that it contained everything he needed, he picked it up, grabbed his thermal jacket from the hook, and made his way to the front door.

He’d head straight to reception. He could demand access to his helicopter face to face, and of course it wouldn’t hurt to see the owner of the voice he’d heard on the phone. Something about it wouldn’t leave his head.

“Focus, Devlin,” he said to himself.

The only thing that mattered was getting out of the resort right now.