Midnight Bargain (The Midnight Club Billionaires #3)

Chapter One

Kingi

The three members of the board of the Ngā Whetū Rangatahi Foundation who are sitting on the other side of the boardroom table all glare at me.

I shift in my seat, resenting feeling like a teenager who’s been caught smoking behind the bike sheds.

“I’m sure you see our point.” Mikaere is fifty-eight, and his once-dark curly hair is now almost entirely gray. He’s the principal of the only high school on Waiheke Island and is well respected in the local community.

“The person who takes on the CEO position needs to be seen as respectable and trustworthy.” Koa is a GP with a focus on the health and wellbeing of Māori youth on the island.

“We need someone who’s going to be a great role model,” Moana adds. A mother of five, a grandmother of eleven, and married to the local vicar, she plays a big role in the church community on the island.

Mikaere gestures at the iPad in front of me. “This is the last thing the Foundation needs, Kingi. Frankly, I’m surprised at you.”

I glance at the article from the Kōrero news website, feeling a fresh surge of resentment.

The headline reads ‘Potential CEO Faces Backlash for Reckless Behavior at Cultural Site.’ Accompanying it are two photos taken several weeks ago: one of me jumping off the waterfall at the Waiora healing pool, the second of me holding a whisky glass and looking disheveled.

The article already has over ten thousand likes and two thousand comments, many of them yelling in capital letters with angry face emojis.

It’s going viral in the city and will soon be a national story.

I resist the urge to throw the iPad across the room. “This is pure fabrication.”

Mikaere frowns. “There’s a photo of you, Kingi. Are you saying it’s AI? Because if that’s the case, you could sue for libel.”

“No, the photo is real. Yes, I jumped off the waterfall. It’s hardly reckless behavior. We all know how many kids make that jump.”

“You’re not a kid,” Moana points out, giving me a look that makes me feel an inch high. “You’re an adult, a company director, and a well-respected member of our community, or so we thought. And the Waiora is a sacred site. This is damaging to us all ways around.”

It’s natural for young men to develop aggressive feelings as their testosterone spikes, but part of becoming an adult is learning to control that aggression.

It’s one reason I enjoy mentoring young men and helping them deal with their hostility with physical exercise, as it can feel overwhelming when you’re frustrated and resentful at the world.

Violence and anger are never the answer; I know that.

Right now, though, I could easily punch the wall to make a Kingi-shaped hole to escape this farce.

“It was a private party at the Midnight Club,” I say, careful to keep my voice even.

“I arrived late to discover they’d decided to go down to the Waiora for an evening swim.

I went down there, and I had every intention of asking them to leave if they were being loud.

As it happens, they were relatively quiet and respectful, just a group of friends having a swim, and we returned to the club shortly afterwards.

No alcohol was consumed at the pool. I hadn’t had a single drink when I did the jump.

The other photo was taken at the club a couple of hours later.

This is a personal vendetta, nothing more. ”

Moana looks over her glasses at me. “You’re saying that the supermodel in this article…” She looks at her own iPad. “…Sabrina Pearce, is behind this? She made it up?”

“Yes.”

Koa frowns. “Why would she do that?”

I run a hand through my hair and wince. The last time I saw my mother, she told me it needed a cut, and she’s probably right. Normally I like it long, but I’ve run my hands through it so many times it’s tangled to shit.

“We dated briefly,” I reveal. “And I decided not to take it further.”

Koa’s lips twitch. “Hell hath no fury?”

“Something like that.”

It is, of course, just a glimpse of the whole story, and only a taste of my idiocy.

When I met Sabrina at the Waiora, I knew immediately who she was—she’s splashed across every women’s magazine in New Zealand.

In my defense, she’s five foot ten, with legs up to her armpits, light-brown skin, long brown hair, and big…

eyes. Yes, I am that shallow. I hadn’t had sex in a few months, and when she stripped off her glittering Givenchy gown to reveal a skimpy bikini, I was lost.

Yes, obviously, I jumped off the waterfall to impress her.

And it worked. When we returned to Midnight, she sat next to me in the club, and as the evening progressed, she made it obvious how attractive she found me.

At the end of the party, I asked if she’d like to go back to my suite. And she said yes.

The sex was unimpressive, despite my best efforts to make it otherwise.

But she’s beautiful, wealthy, and well known in the circles I mix in, so it was a short step for me to give her the benefit of the doubt and suggest a second date.

If I’m honest, I’ve been growing tired of the playboy lifestyle, and a little part of me thought that maybe having a gorgeous girl like Sabrina on my arm on a more permanent basis might not be the worst thing in the world.

Unfortunately I didn’t realize at the time that she was a viper in a supermodel’s clothing.

Over the next couple of weeks, I began to understand what a mistake I’d made. I learned that her cool, composed exterior hid an aggressive brat. She was demanding, rude, and patronizing, and bitchy and dismissive to anyone she thought beneath her, which appeared to be most people.

She also started laying down ground rules for our relationship, which included me giving up any risk-taking endeavors like rock climbing or sky diving because it didn’t look good in the tabloids for her to have a boyfriend who enjoyed hazardous hobbies.

And that was the nail in the designer coffin, I’m afraid.

She revealed her demands as we were making our way out of the Midnight Club, and when I lost my temper and told her we were over, she literally exploded—well, not literally, but almost—and screamed to my face in front of a lobby full of guests that nobody, but nobody, turned down Sabrina Pearce and lived to tell the tale.

She walked away, and I rolled my eyes and promptly forgot about her.

My mistake.

“So she’s doing her best to slander you in the press?” Moana’s mouth forms an O. “That’s… appalling.” Honest and whole-hearted, she has no understanding of how a person could ever do anything to hurt someone in such a manner.

“That is unfortunate,” Mikaere says, “although maybe there’s also a lesson to be learned there about keeping it in your pants, Kingi.”

I haven’t blushed since I was twelve and vomited on stage during a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but my face heats under the principal’s steady gaze.

“Give the guy a break,” Koa says mildly. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s not his fault the woman is so vindictive.”

“No,” Mikaere says. “But he’s twenty-eight, not eighteen.

You’re a man now, Kingi. You’re free to live your life however you choose, of course.

But we have to think about the Foundation.

About the young lives we’re hoping to help.

We need a respectable figure at the helm.

Someone the youngsters can look up to. Not a playboy who’s splashed over the tabloids with a different woman every week. ”

I bristle with resentment. My father is rich and so I haven’t had it as tough as some of the youths who’ll come to the Foundation, but I’ve worked hard to get to where I am.

I have a First-Class Honors degree and a Master of Business postgrad.

I run my own business with my friend Orson, and I’ve more than quadrupled the money my father gave me when I turned twenty-one.

I hold the Duke of Edinburgh Hillary Award at Gold Level, and I’m also now an Award Leader.

I’ve personally broken several national mountaineering records, and I frequently spend weekends volunteering for Land Search and Rescue New Zealand.

But I don’t say anything, because even though it stings, I know he’s not wrong. I am often photographed with different models and movie stars. I enjoy taking risks, and I am sometimes reckless. I’m torn between believing you only live once, and wanting to be taken seriously.

Mikaere is right. It’s my choice. I can continue to live the way I do. But if I want to be CEO of the Ngā Whetū Rangatahi Foundation—the Youth Stars—I’m going to have to make some changes.

I clear my throat. “I’d like to apologize. You’re completely right, and I didn’t mean to embarrass the Foundation by acting inappropriately.”

Moana smiles. “Aw, Kingi, Kia kaha, kia māia, kia manawanui.” It’s a saying that means ‘Be strong, be brave, be steadfast.’

“We’ll back you up,” Koa says, “of course we will. We wouldn’t have offered you the role if we didn’t think you were perfect for it. But we just need you to act a little more… respectable.”

That word again.

“People respect stability,” Mikaere says. “It would help if you looked like a man who values commitment, not just the spotlight.”

Moana nods. “Having someone steady by your side, someone who reflects your values, would reassure our donors. Maybe just bear that in mind, going forward.”

“I’ll give it some serious thought,” I promise.

“Kia ora,” Mikaere says. It’s used as a greeting, but it also means ‘be well’. “We appreciate you giving us your time, Kingi.”

“Of course.”

We all rise, and I walk with them out of the boardroom and through the offices into the lobby.