Chapter Two
Adam
No matter what the elites of high society claimed, things in Palm Beach always came down to money.
Have it, and you gained entrance to the most rarefied circles in town.
Most men of breeding and women of fashion would fall over themselves to impress you, to include you in their lives and their society connections.
Money came with power, and if you could pair the two with good looks, the trio had more potency than any family connections.
That night, money had ensured me the best table at the bar in The Breakers, Palm Beach.
I sat in the middle of a banquette for six.
A few hundreds placed in the hand of the pretty blonde hostess had secured it, despite having no reservation on a Saturday night during the height of the Palm Beach winter season.
Behind me, a large glass case showcased the bar’s million-dollar collection of wine, a temperature-controlled affair listing labels and vintages to satisfy any collector’s most discerning taste.
On the table in front of me, a selection of sushi rolls and a charcuterie board complemented the open bottle of Veuve Clicquot that Katrina insisted on ordering.
She was currently on glass three, and I was already bored of her.
Good thing she was Preston Samuel’s date, not mine.
Like most of the women Preston knew, she was short on substance and long on upkeep.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Katrina said between champagne gulps. “That New Year’s Eve party out on Ibis Isle was amazing.”
“So glad you were able to come, baby.” Preston leaned closer to her. My longtime best friend had a fresh drink too, a dark ale fitting with his usual taste. “It was better with you there.”
She giggled. “Was it?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“No.”
“A shame I couldn’t have gone,” I said.
Katrina looked at me as if suddenly remembering my presence. “Yes, it was. They had a band from Miami and fireworks over the water. Even gave out sterling silver keychains as party favors.”
“Did they?” I was enjoying this more than I wanted to let on. “Is that so?”
Katrina nodded and opened the small red leather clutch purse beside her thigh. She pulled out the small gift and presented it to me. “See?”
“Whoever the host was, he has great taste,” I said.
Over Katrina’s shoulder, Preston shot me a look, but like any true friend, he didn’t say anything.
It took well-practiced self-control to stop the eye-roll from forming.
Instead, I graced Katrina with my best, most delighted smile.
“I’m sure the whole night was memorable,” I added without really examining the party favor.
“Do you know who owns the place?” Katrina asked Preston. Her words had a slight slur. “I looked it up, but it just said an LLC out of New York.”
“I heard a mobster bought it a while back.” Preston stifled a knowing grin as he set his beer glass on the table and wrapped an arm around Katrina’s shoulders. Envy rushed through me. Preston could afford to be casual with women in a way I never would. “Someone with a lot of dark money.”
“Makes sense. It’s a gorgeous place, but a little…clinical.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you know how people like that are. Mobsters, I mean.”
“No,” I pressed, allowing myself a bit of enjoyment about Katrina’s addition to the myths I knew circled the island about my mansion. “Tell me.”
“Well, of course they are very secretive. The whole time I was there, I didn’t see personal photographs or anything like that on the walls. It was like the owner didn’t exist.”
“It’s a beach house,” Preston tried. “Why would there be personal items?”
Katrina turned her head of bouncy black curls. “It just didn’t feel like a home.”
“Maybe the owner doesn’t want it that way,” I said.
“Maybe.” She studied him. “I’m sorry, I know you introduced yourself at the beginning of the night, but what did you say your name was again?”
“Alan,” I replied. “Alan from New York.”
“Well, Alan from New York”—she grabbed the plate of California rolls—“have another.”
“No, thanks,” I said, already looking past her.
It amused me how this had all turned out.
I invited Preston and Katrina to join me because I didn’t want another night of silence in the beach house alone, but now that we sat in a room bustling with hundreds of people, I couldn’t have been more bored.
No, this isn’t going to work for me. I got up from the banquette table.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back. ”
I shot Preston a knowing look, gave Katrina a nod, and then walked off, leaving the two of them to finish dinner and drinks by themselves.
I wove through the crowd, searched for the server, and pressed five hundred dollars in her hand.
That would take care of the bill and whatever extras Preston ordered in my absence.
I didn’t plan on returning to the table, and I knew Preston was aware of my modus operandi.
I was done. I was gone. He’d be happy keeping his focus on Katrina for the rest of the night, anyway.
And Preston had never gotten upset about my penchant for ghosting. Lucky for me, he entered my life when he did—during those first weeks of boot camp, when enlisting in the Army had still felt like a shock. Life came with few real friends, but for me, he had always been one of them.
I shoved my hands in my pant pockets, then moved down the marble steps at the entrance of the bar, into the loggia that encircled the central courtyard of the resort.
From there, the twenty or so steps would take me to the grand lobby, and I’d pick up the Bentley from the valet out front.
Then I might go for a drive around Palm Beach and—
As soon as I rounded the corner, my stomach dropped to my feet.
No way.
The vision I’d waited so long for stood in the center of the lobby, flanked by two men in dark suits and white dress shirts.
She wore a decorative but unnecessary mink coat that ended at her knees, a pair of high heels, and a low-cut black dress that did little to hide her cleavage.
Her black hair was pinned on her head in a low chignon.
She looked older than I remembered, but then again, I looked older too.
“Lila?” Her name left my mouth before my thoughts could keep up, and I almost shouted it in the crowded room. Then I crossed it in three swift steps. “Lila Montague?”
She turned at the sound. “Umm—Adam?” Her eyes contained a question she didn’t speak. “Adam Greene, how good to see you.”
My heart soared when she said my name, but as soon as it did, I pulled it back inside its cage. No, she didn’t get to unsettle me. Not now. Not ever. Stick with the plan, Adam. I held out my hand. “Good to see you too.”
She wavered as if she wanted to shake my hand, but then she only cleared her throat. “So, um…it’s been years since I’ve seen you. What brings you to Palm Beach?”
“Business.” And that business is you. “Are you still living here?”
I already knew the answer, but it was better to seem like I didn’t know, and like I wasn’t keeping tabs, than to ask a question that might tell her I knew everything about her gilded life.
She was Lila Montague, in a lot of ways Palm Beach’s most aristocratic rich girl.
The one who stole my heart at seventeen and cracked my future into a thousand pieces.
“I am.” She gave me a small nod then turned to the man on her left, who stood closer to her than felt right to me. “Listen, should we—”
“We should.” He had flat voice with burly arms, and for the first time, I noticed his earpiece. He’s on a job. This is work. For the other one too. What the—
The man motioned to the bank of elevators at the end of the lobby. “Right this way. We don’t have much time, Rose.”
Rose? What the hell?
“Why did he call you that?” I blurted.
“It’s nothing.” Lila pulled the mink coat closer to her body and stepped toward the man.
“You’re right, we need to be on time. Thank you.
” She cast her eyes to the floor for a moment and seemed to take a deep breath, as if she was steeling herself for some unknown battle.
When she looked at me again, the light had disappeared from her eyes. “I have a…a meeting. Goodbye, Adam.”
Then Lila gave me a curt flick of her chin and turned on her heel. The men in dark suits followed, closing themselves behind her like two large partitions, sectioning me off from her.
What the hell just happened?
Lila hadn’t exited the lobby yet, but she was already gone.