Mr. Aster (Billionaires’ Club #8)
Chapter 1
Chapter One
Darcy
I ’d just gotten back to Saratoga, where my family winery, Burke Wines, was located. Even though I’d never been big on the whole winery thing, I loved the estate my parents had purchased to grow their business and watch their vision flourish.
Around twenty years ago, my dad got a wild hair up his ass to quit his job working for the man at a highly reputable tech company in Silicon Valley and dive into the winery life. I have no idea how my dad picked it up so quickly, but he was a natural when it came to cultivating grapes and turning out barrels of wine. He and Mom had probably taken a hundred trips to Napa before making the leap to buy the vineyard, and it wasn’t long before they’d gone from selling out at farmers’ markets to having their lovely Chardonnay stocked on most grocery store shelves for $16.99 a bottle. Sure, there were more expensive wines, but I was damn proud of my parents for the quality product they produced. It even won an award in 2012, and I thought that was great.
Now, a man born and raised in this lifestyle was scheduled to arrive today. The Aster family was known for their impeccable wines from France, so why they wanted anything to do with my dad’s lowly estate was beyond me. James Mitchell, a powerhouse billionaire CEO with his hands in every type of business I could think of, and Sebastian Aster, who’d topped the Forbes list for multiple years in a row and who had more accolades about his business ventures than I could begin to list, both had to have my parents’ winery? The place was special to me and, of course, the people who wanted to buy an affordable wine; however, it wasn’t noteworthy enough to garner the attention of a Mitchell or an Aster. Of that, I was positive.
I suppose life was all about throwing curveballs, though, and if you asked me, it got boring without things like this happening. Nothing wrong with a good, old-fashioned shake-up, am I right?
“Oh, my sweet girl,” my mom, Tina, said, her naturally curly hair full of frizz due to the humidity. “God, I’m so happy you’re home.”
I smiled. My mom’s hair matched her style. She always wore flowy, bohemian, colorful hippie-type clothes and big, bold jewelry. I’m talking brass bangles on both arms and huge, dangly earrings. I don’t think I’d recognize her if she didn’t look like a roadside fortune teller from the old days. She probably smelled like one, too, from constantly rubbing essential oil remedies on her pressure points. She smelled like a day spa, and it was kind of amazing.
“One day, you’re going to have to let me go,” I teased. “I’ll be living on my own in Los Angeles soon enough.”
Her naturally plump lips pulled into a vibrant smile that reached her eyes. “Oh, you and I know the Los Angeles lifestyle is not for you. You don’t do busy, fast-paced living, and you never have.”
“True,” I admitted. “But I have to make a living somehow.”
“Well, maybe Mr. Aster will sweep?—”
“Stop,” I interrupted her. I had a feeling this was why my parents insisted I be here when he arrived today. “Mr. Aster is a widower, and from all the buzz I’ve heard through the billionaire grapevines, he’s a miserable one. He’s an asshole, and I’m shocked you and Dad agreed for him and Mitchell to buy interest in the estate.”
“We’re in the hole, honey,” she shrugged, turning to hold my hand and lead me down the dirt path that led to the massive, Spanish-style estate. “You don’t need me to remind you of that.”
“You say that as if it’s no big deal,” I smiled at her. She was always so calm in situations that should warrant someone to be stressed out of their mind. “I just don’t understand, why them? You had others interested who would’ve been—” I paused. “What’s the word? Ah, yes, less of an asshole when telling you and Dad how badly you’ve mishandled your business?” I said playfully, but it was the truth.
Aster was probably going to belittle my family. We were upstarts, after all—new money—and he was an old money snob. Nothing could’ve been more unattractive to me.
“To have the names Aster and Mitchell on our estate,” Mom smiled, “is a lovely compliment, and because of it, we’re never going to have to worry about this place going under again.”
“Well, I love that you’re happy about it, and if you’re happy, Momma, then so am I,” I said, hugging her and giving her a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’m going to run up to my room and shower. I’ll be back in a few.”
“I’ll have Antonio make you his famous margarita,” she said.
Antonio was our chef, whom my parents hired on the spot after they tasted his food at a tiny restaurant in some random village in Mexico when they were on vacation. When Antonio said he could only come to live at the winery if his wife and three kids came too, my parents happily obliged. I didn’t think anyone’s food would be good enough to offer their entire family a place in your home, but that was before I tasted Antonio’s mole poblano. He was worth every cent, and his family was a delight. His wife, Ines, and their kids, Angel, Diego, and Mateo, had become a part of our family, and I couldn’t imagine life without them anymore.
We had such a fun dynamic here at Burke Wines, and it sucked that a dark cloud loomed in the distance in the shape of Sebastian Aster.
I needed to focus. I wasn’t only here for my parents; I was here for myself as well. Sebastian Aster was here to make a lot of money off my family’s failing business, and I was here to make a lot of money off Sebastian’s failing life these days. I would give everyone a peek into his life since his wife passed, but I wouldn’t be horrible. That wasn’t my style. I would be extremely delicate while exposing the newly eligible bachelor to the rest of the world, but I was well aware that this story would be the ticket to my success. No one would pull more attention than Sebastian Aster at this point, and I was going to get the exclusive. It was bound to draw every important person around, so I would have to make it great.
I rounded the corner to my room, and the next thing I knew, I ran smack dab into a wall of a man walking through the breezeway that led to the two bedrooms on this side of my parents’ mansion.
I stepped back, my senses filled with a fancy cologne—bergamot and sandalwood—that sparked a certain sex appeal I had no idea I could ever develop an appetite for.
“Oh, God. Sorry, are you lost?” I questioned as my eyes fell on the image of a brooding man, who happened to be one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen.
His frown deepened as his brown irises grew dark, scowling down at me as though he were a Greek god and I was some creature who’d crawled out of the gutter looking for handouts.
“Apparently, I’ll be sharing this block of rooms with you?”
I immediately grew defensive at his insulting tone as his eyes roamed over me like I were a flea on his bespoke suit.
“Block of rooms?” I questioned with a smile. “This is just a wing of the estate where the rooms are more private. Sure, it’s like the size of a house, but?—”
“Will you be using these floors as well? That is my concern,” he said, his razor-sharp jawline defined by the perfect amount of stubble that grew after a morning shave.
“I will be using these floors since that’s the door to my room right over there,” I said, now as annoyed as he seemed about the idea.
“Of course,” he said, disturbed and inconvenienced. “Very well, then.”
“I’m Darcy,” I said directly, not wanting this man to think it was okay to be rude to people he felt were beneath him.
Whether or not his family was part owner of this estate now didn't matter. I was not okay with rich assholes acting entitled, so this was going to be highly difficult if he was going to act like he owned the entire country and not just part of the winery.
“Darcy?” he questioned.
“Yes,” I answered, seeing his perplexed expression.
Goddammit, why did the man have to ruin his drop-dead gorgeousness by being such a prick? What a waste of a perfectly sexy man.
“Interesting. I was informed that I’d meet with William, Martina, and Darcel?”
“Shit,” I said, almost as if I were jolted by electricity after hearing my full name for the first time since I was born. “Yeah, no,” I scrambled to say. “That’s not my name. I don’t give a shit what notes you were given before you came out here.”
“You prefer Darcy, then?”
This man was like a broody robot. His voice was all deep and masculine but totally stiff and cold.
“That’s why I introduced myself as Darcy and not the name my mother gave me when she was high on pain meds after delivering me in the hospital.”
My mom had me when she was nineteen. She met my biological father after a night of partying. All I knew about the guy is that they met when he was in town on a business trip—his wife was at home—and they had a fling that resulted in me. Mom never elaborated about the guy, and I didn’t care to know more because once she met Billy when I was seven years old, he stole my little heart, and I’d called him Dad ever since. I was his, and he was mine, and the three of us together were the perfect little family.
“May I ask what you’re staring at?” Sebastian asked, his gaze curious and making him even more handsome.
“I’m just trying to figure you out,” I said, trying to cover for the fact that I’d stopped talking and had probably been gawking at the man.
Jesus, he even had a perfect nose. No one has a perfect nose.
“There’s nothing about me you need to concern yourself with, ma’am,” he said truthfully. “I will be requesting a more secluded room, so if we don’t see each other again…” he stopped, searching for words, I assumed.
“I’m pretty sure we’ll see each other again unless you don’t plan on eating dinner tonight?” I answered the stiff man.
He rolled his eyes, “I can take my meals alone in my room. I’m here on business, not to socialize.”
“All right, then,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. With the kind of money this guy had, you’d think he could buy himself some manners.
“Good day,” he said, and then took his rich ass through the outdoor corridor and down the steps to try and get a more private room, which was funny because there wasn’t one.
What he was about to realize was that my family were highly social people. If he wanted to get anywhere with this acquisition, he’d better work up an appetite to socialize with Billy Burke and this family.
God, what a chore this was shaping up to be. I couldn’t even imagine what it must’ve been like for his late wife (may she rest in peace, of course) to be married to that type of personality. I knew the wealthy marched to the beat of their own drummer and all, but this was over the top, making me rethink my idea of getting famous from writing about him.
It wasn’t worth talking to a robot and trying to get the man to crack open a little. No wonder everyone wanted the inside info on this dude. He was a vault when it came to personality and conversation.
Ultimately, my problem was that I was a glutton for punishment, and I loved challenges, stupid though they may be. That meant I would probably go through with it even though my better judgment told me it was a waste of time and energy.