You, Me, & Après-Ski (Heartbreaker Billionaires #1)

Chapter 1

NOLAN

Fuck. I don’t have time for this.

The tabloid headline shouted at me from my phone screen as my father reamed me out on the family conference call. TROUBLE IN PARADISE? it said, accompanied by a picture of my fake fiancée and I frowning at each other.

“A bird just shit in my coffee, so yeah, I look pissed,” I said, interrupting him. “It’s not the first time the media has published out-of-context photos of me, so what’s your damage?”

“This is unacceptable, Nolan,” my father said. “Part of the deal is you and Cressida selling this engagement to the public, and you’re doing a piss-poor job. Fix it. Now.”

“Sounds like I’ll be too busy this winter to worry about your blackmail, after what Arthur just said.”

“Look at it as an opportunity, my boy,” my soft-spoken Grandfather Arthur chimed in. “Hale’s Peak has a way of bringing people together.”

I grunted a goodbye, then jammed my phone in my pocket.

Bracing my hands on my mahogany desk, I took a deep breath.

Well. It was more a flare of my nostrils than anything resembling a meditative moment.

Cressida would be disappointed in me, I thought with a snort.

I’d tried yoga once at her insistence, but it had been a perfect example of a waste of time.

During my probationary first year as the CEO of Keller Resorts, if something didn’t contribute to the bottom line, it wasn’t a priority—and that included relaxation or any kind of life outside the office.

Which made my family’s demands all the more frustrating.

Loosening my tie, I strode over to the floor-to-ceiling windows of my corner office, scowling at the Golden Gate Bridge poking out of the fog.

The tabloids’ lies were annoying, but a winter getaway with Cressida would solve it.

But did it have to be Hale’s Peak? The aging property had been a thorn in my side since I’d taken over as CEO six months ago, but it was a black mark on my memories long before that.

Curling my hand into a fist, I pounded the window and leaned my forearm against the cool glass, willing myself to calm the fuck down.

“Mr. Keller, your four o’clock is here.” Daphne, my assistant, stuck her head into my office. From the blush coloring her deep brown skin, I knew my four o’clock had been hassling her. “Unless you’d like a few extra minutes to glare at the skyline.”

My lips twitched. Daphne was damn good at her job, so she’d earned a bit of flippancy. And she amused me. Everyone else cowered around me, but she was unflappable in the presence of assholes. Perfect for dealing with the people I worked with on a daily basis—and me.

“Send him in.”

A man a few years older than me walked into my office like he owned the goddamn place, rolling up the sleeves of his light blue button-down. “Thanks, Daph,” he said as she passed. Behind his back, she rolled her eyes and left.

As he grinned after her, my temper rippled to the surface and I thrust out my hand. “Anton Alistair,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

With a smile that was all teeth, Anton grasped my hand in his crushing grip.

The prick. I wanted to rip his stupid man bun from his stupid head.

“Nolan Keller. Glad you finally decided to hear me out. Rumor has it, you’re looking to sell Hale’s Peak.

About time someone took that place off your hands. ”

I ground my molars together. Anton worked for his father’s luxury real estate brokerage, and I’d only accepted his meeting to get him to stop badgering Daphne for an appointment.

But after the little exchange I just witnessed, perhaps Anton was interested in something other than acquiring more properties.

The hulking man invited himself to lounge on my expensive leather couch, but I elected to stand.

This wouldn’t take long. So don’t get comfortable, asshole.

“I’m sorry to say you’ve wasted your time coming here.

” I didn’t sound sorry at all. “We won’t be ready to discuss anything until late spring. ”

Running a hand over his blond hair, Anton considered. “Why the delay? That’s six months from now.”

The words came out between my clenched teeth. “I’m spending the winter at Hale’s Peak to assess the resort and ensure it is ready to sell.” And try not to gouge my eyes out in the process. “I have some openings toward the end of the skiing season. We can discuss more then.” Fat chance.

Anton drummed his fingers on the armrest as I gave him an empty smile.

As a rule of thumb, I didn’t trust many people and I certainly didn’t trust an Alistair.

His father had done some shady dealings in the past, and I didn’t know Anton well enough to say how far—or close—that apple had fallen from the tree.

Although, other than being a little cocky and opportunistic, he might not be a bad guy.

But he made Daphne’s work life difficult, so I’d make his work life difficult.

After an extended minute, Anton pushed to his feet, straightening his shirt and slacks with an uncomfortable shrug as if he hated wearing them. “I’ll be sure to have Daphne set something up for us,” he said.

“I’ll have her call you.” An even fatter chance.

Anton’s brow notched but he left without another word.

A few minutes later, Daphne barged into my office.

“Do come in,” I said without looking up from my desk.

“What did that irritating imitation of Thor want?” she asked, glaring at the door as if Anton had left behind a trail of green ooze.

I stifled a laugh. Anton did carry himself like a Viking.

“Just sniffing around. Nothing to worry about.” As I shuffled through a mountain of papers, I muttered, “Where is that chart of last quarter’s earnings?

…” I needed it for my upcoming call with Bridgeport Rock Quarry.

If everything went according to plan, I’d be signing a deal with them next April to sell Hale’s Peak.

The land was more valuable than the ski resort itself, and I was more than ready to get rid of it.

On that one thing, my father and I agreed.

But Cyrus had his own buyer lined up, ready to undermine me should Bridgeport show even a slight hint of backing out.

Over my dead fucking body would I allow my father to swoop in and steal my position as CEO. I had worked my entire life to earn this job, and it’s what my mother had wanted.

And I intended to make her proud.

Without missing a beat, Daphne plucked the correct packet out of the pile for me. “I heard Anton on the phone when he left, telling his father we’re not selling Hale’s Peak…?”

With a sigh, I set the papers aside. “Cyrus called. Conferenced in Grandpa Arthur too.”

“Explains your joyous mood. What did they say?”

“I have to spend the winter at Hale’s Peak and ‘experience everything the property, staff, and surrounding community have to offer’ before Arthur will vote to support me in selling.

” I left out the part about parading my fake engagement in front of the cameras to drum up some good publicity—that was a closely held secret forced upon me and Cressida by our fathers.

Glowering at the paperwork as if it personally offended me, I sat back in my chair with a huff.

My brothers didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.

Raife and Dominic were lucky to be out of the family business even if it meant they were cut off from our finances.

I’d almost rather be taking up with an outlaw motorcycle club or mucking about on a ranch like them instead of being forced to walk down memory fucking lane.

Wincing, Daphne said, “But Arthur knows your history with the place—”

“Yes, but he won’t budge. I must comply, or the board will reject any proposal I put forward.”

The board vote was coming up in April, and I had to finish off my first year as CEO with flying colors to solidify my position—or else my father would become CEO instead.

I already had a nice portfolio of property acquisitions and renovations completed and planned, but Hale’s Peak was the one remaining hurdle.

Arthur was the chairman and majority shareholder, so nothing would go through without his approval.

He had a soft spot for my mother and Hale’s Peak, so he favored renovating but he could be swayed.

And I would do anything to secure his vote even if it meant returning to the last place I ever wanted to go.

The last place I saw my mother alive.

Daphne gave my hand a sympathetic pat, then said, “Oh, before you leave—and yes, you should go home tonight, you need to sleep—this came for you today.” She placed a plain envelope on my desk. No return address, stamp, or postal information. Just my name on the front, typed. I raised an eyebrow.

“No idea who left it,” Daphne said. “It was on my desk when I came back from a coffee run.” With a shrug, she left me to my devices.

Normally, I’d toss something like this straight in the garbage.

Back in the day, the tabloids loved running stories about whoever was occupying my bed that particular night, painting me as the playboy billionaire—which wasn’t totally inaccurate.

The media exposure had resulted in some stalker-y letters and hate mail, but curiosity got the better of me.

I sliced a letter opener across the top and read the simple sentence typed by an old typewriter.

My eyes raced over the words again and again, my hands shaking. What the fuck is this? Who sent this? The words on the page blistered into my mind until I saw them even when I closed my eyes.

Your mother’s death was not an accident.

I pulled my Aston Martin DB12 Coupe into the driveway of my row home in Presidio Heights, clutching the steering wheel in a death grip.

After opening the letter, I holed up in my office while my team scoured security footage for any sign of who had left the letter.

As the hours ticked by with no answers and the room grew dark around me, something in me snapped.

Suddenly, my massive corner office felt too small, too stifling.

I’d driven home like a madman, the letter burning a hole in my suit jacket pocket, searing straight into my heart.

Taking up half the block, my monstrosity of a house stood four stories high.

The place held no warmth for me anymore, but my mother had loved the big bay windows that overlooked the Golden Gate Bridge.

So rather than sell it, I held onto it. Besides, Cressida liked it, and anything I could do to make her attachment to me less miserable for her, I’d do it.

Walking inside, I threw my coat at the rack and stomped into the expansive kitchen. I’d renovated the entire place, but I’d kept my mother’s reading nook the same, the bittersweet memories hiding in the folds of the wallpaper and the crease of the carpet.

I poured a glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the backlit bar, then tossed my tie aside, feeling as cold and dead as the marble countertop.

Your mother’s death was not an accident.

Seven words looping through my mind in an unending chant. My hand tightened around the glass. I’d put my mother’s death behind me long ago—I’d been twelve—but those seven words dragged up twenty-one years of emotions laid bare in therapy.

Taking a hearty swig of whiskey, I vowed to deal with it all later. Tonight, I would drown my feelings.

Even though it was after midnight, when I walked into the living room, Cressida sat on the couch, tapping on her phone with a perfectly manicured nail.

My fiancée was gorgeous. Blonde hair like a pin-up girl, legs for days, an ass that was more than a handful. Elegant. Loyal. Smart as hell.

But we weren’t in love.

Cressida looked up, a smile curving her full lips.

Her ocean-blue eyes found mine, bright and sharp.

But the haunted gleam never left them. Not since that night eleven years ago when my asshole of a brother abandoned her, and I was the one to pick up the pieces.

It made me want to throttle him until he begged her for mercy.

She was far too good for any of us Kellers.

“Bad day?” I asked, offering her my glass.

Cressida took a sip with a shrug that shifted her robe, exposing the tops of her breasts. The red lacy bra caught my attention and I raised a brow. Normally, Cressida did not put on a show for me.

“So a really bad day then.”

“Spent too much time thinking about things I shouldn’t,” she replied, then finished off my whiskey with a harsh swallow.

“Ah.” I knew what that meant. What it promised.

And the front of my pants tightened in response.

When we slept together, it was to sate a need.

To fill a void. To forget. To feel something other than utterly alone.

So no, we weren’t in love, but we were only human.

Cressida was sweet. Familiar. And the only ally I had in this entire mess.

Between everything that had happened earlier and now this, my nerves were fried, my patience was thin, and my dick was rock hard.

I wanted her. Right the fuck now.

Tipping her chin up with a finger, I asked, “Tired?”

She regarded me for a moment, considering. “Not yet.”

“Get upstairs.”

Flashing a knowing smile, she did as I said.

We’d have our fun and drown in each other for the night like we had on so many other nights. But it didn’t change the fact we were both prisoners in this relationship, and the price of escape was far too high.