Beachfront Billionaire (The Empire Suite #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Maya

“No way I’m vacationing with them,” Dad says, looking a little pale as he stares at the groomsmen hollering and banging their fists like a bunch of gorillas in the airport bar. “It’s seven thirty in the morning and they’re already doing shots.”

I’m sitting at the gate with my parents, watching as a pit forms in my stomach as the groom stands on a wobbly barstool and chugs a full mug of beer.

His convict buddies yell excessively loud as he holds the empty mug upside down over his head and then hops down.

My cousin Leah, the bride, wraps her arms around his tattooed neck and kisses him like chugging a beer in an airport at seven thirty in the morning is something to be celebrated and proud about.

“Oh my god,” Dad says, dropping his head into his hands. “This is going to be hell.”

My mother is usually the optimistic counterweight to my dad’s cynicism, but even she looks horrified.

I’m just sitting on the seat between them with my legs crossed, nibbling on a chocolate chip muffin. I’ve found that it’s best to keep to myself when my dad is annoyed and going off on one of his tangents.

“Where did Leah even find this guy?” Dad asks with a groan. “The prison parking lot?”

“They met at work,” Mom says.

“He has a job?” Dad says, shocked. “How do you even get a job with all of those face tattoos?”

“I didn’t say it was a good job,” Mom corrects as she stares at the rowdy group with her nose scrunched up.

See, Leah has always been a little trashy and she’s always liked her guys the same way.

Over the years, we’ve had to deal with all of her ‘interesting’ boyfriends.

There was Mick who got kicked out of my grandmother’s house on Christmas for yelling at her dog, and Tommy who told my aunt that she had ‘nice tits for an old broad,’ and now she’s getting married to Taint.

Yes, Taint.

I’m not sure if it’s a nickname or an abbreviation or what, but it’s the only name I’ve ever heard. It was even on their wedding invitation. Well, it was an email, not an actual invitation. That would have been too classy for the bride and groom.

We got invited to the last minute tropical wedding on Isla Verdanza, which is located in the Caribbean Sea between Antigua and Guadeloupe, and we all wanted to say no, but Aunt Jennifer, the bride’s mother, guilted us into going.

I mean, it should be good, right? Palm trees and tropical drinks and soft sand and all-you-can-eat food—it should be a dream come true. But with Leah, there’s always a catch.

And I’m pretty sure the catch is our resort—The Breezy Winds Resort & Casino.

The price tag tipped us off. $449 for the week.

The abundance of one-star reviews confirmed it.

This place is going to suuuuuucccckkk.

“I can’t believe we got dragged into this,” Dad says, pulling out his phone. “Look at this. This guy says there were bed bugs in his room.”

“Will you stop reading those reviews?” Mom says with a sigh.

“Breezy Winds,” Dad says. “People call it Sleazy Sins because it’s full of people like that.”

He points to the airport bar where Leah is now getting in on the chugging. Her friends are hollering like people who are a little too old to be hanging around at the college keg party as she chugs a huge beer, dribbling half of it onto her chest.

“How can so many people think that a face tattoo is a good idea?” Dad says, shaking his head. Now, he’s looking at them like a nature observer who stumbled across a troop of baboons.

There are a lot of face tattoos at that bar. So many face tattoos. For the record, my family has no face tattoos.

“What does that guy have on his forehead?” Dad asks, squinting his eyes.

“It says Peace or Death with barbed wire wrapped around it,” I tell him between bites of my muffin.

“Peace or Death?” Dad says, rolling his eyes. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

He sighs as he turns back to his phone. “This person says there was a fistfight in the lobby when they arrived. What kind of shithole place is she forcing us to go to?”

“People who leave reviews always have something to complain about,” Mom says.

“These people got hospitalized by the food,” Dad says, reaching over me to show her the phone. “So, I think they deserve to complain. I can’t believe I’m wasting my vacation days on this.”

“Put that away,” Mom say, pushing the phone back to him. “My sister is coming.”

Me and Mom force out a smile as Aunt Jennifer comes walking over, looking a little stressed out. “Ready to board?” she asks.

“Ready to leave,” Dad mumbles.

I elbow his side. “We’re ready,” I say, smiling up at her. “Is Leah excited?”

She turns and winces when she sees Leah stumbling over. She forgot her bag and purse at the bar.

“What up, party people?” she hollers, throwing her arms in the air.

In addition to being a little trashy, Leah is a very sloppy drunk.

She collapses onto the chair beside my dad and puts her arm around his neck. I can’t help but chuckle when I see him stiffen like a board.

“I’m so happy you’re coming, Uncle David,” she slurs about an inch from his cheek.

Her breasts are pressed against his arm and I can smell the alcohol on her breath from here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad so uncomfortable. It’s tragic, but also kind of hilarious.

“I made sure we all got seats on the plane together,” she says, slurring her words.

Dad’s eyes bug out wide as he watches the group approaching. Everyone’s eyes are on the groom and his friends as they take over the waiting area by the gate. They’re all loud and hammered and my dad’s worst nightmare.

“Babe, you forgot your bag,” Taint says, dropping her bag on the floor in front of her like it’s a piece of garbage.

“Oh shit,” she says, finally releasing my dad. He breathes for the first time since she arrived. “My wedding dress is in there.”

I stare at the frayed dirty backpack in shock. Her wedding dress is in there? All crumpled up?

But this is Leah we’re talking about. She’s getting married on the beach, so she might be wearing a white bikini down the aisle, complete with a G-string to give my dad a heart attack.

“Babe,” Taint says as he drops down into an empty seat beside a seven-year-old girl. The girl’s mom quickly moves her away. “I’m gonna sit with Stank.”

“The fuck you are,” Leah says, looking like she’s ready to slap someone. “It’s our wedding. You sit with me.”

They start going at it and I can feel my dad getting stiffer and more uncomfortable by the second.

That’s when I hear my name over the loud speakers: Maya Howard, please come to the boarding desk at gate 37.

“That’s you,” Mom says. “Want me to go with you?”

“I got it,” I say as I grab my bag and hurry away from this shitshow.

“Hello,” I say, smiling at the flight attendant at the desk. “I’m Maya Howard.”

“Oh,” she says, checking my ticket and passport. “There’s a problem with your seat.”

“Okay. What’s the problem?”

“The person on the plane before you was sick on your seat.”

My stomach drops. Disgusting. Just what I need to make this vacation a little bit worse.

“So, we’re upgrading you to first class.”

I perk up. “Oh?”

“Unless you want to stay with your group?”

I look over my shoulder at them. Leah is in the middle of the waiting area sobbing with cheap mascara running down her cheeks like she’s about to star in the next Crow movie, Taint and his buddies are arguing with a mother and father from another family, and my dad looks like he’s ready to jump through the window and escape on foot down the runway.

“No, I’ll take the first class ticket,” I say, nodding.

Dad is so jealous when I tell him. “Please take me with you,” he begs.

The boarding is chaotic and loud with these people, and Leah is crying the whole time. I should try to comfort her, this being her wedding and all, but she’s drunk and it’s too early and I’m not in the mood, so I just let them all go in first.

When I finally slip into the huge leather seat that feels like a cloud and the stewardess closes the curtain, locking out my embarrassing family, I’m in heaven.

I’ve never experienced first class before.

I work at a non-profit, so extravagant indulgences like this don’t occur in my life.

The non-profit I work for—a charity that pays for low income inner city kids to go to summer camp—barely has enough funds to pay me my meagre salary, so this isn’t even a question.

I could barely scrounge together the four hundred and forty-nine dollars for the basic seat in the back of the plane.

“Hot towelette?” one of the flight attendants asks, offering me one with a pair of tongs.

“Yes, please,” I say as I take it, wiping my hands and face.

This is so nice. I’m next to the window and the seat beside me is empty. I’ll get good food and drinks and I won’t have to hear Taint and his buddies hollering like orangutans throughout the whole flight.

I sink into the comfy seat and gaze out the window, watching the ground crew working as everyone gets settled. Everyone is boarded, so I guess I have both seats to myself. I put my book on the seat when a gorgeous man turns the corner and catches my eye.

“Whoa…”

He moves down the aisle with the kind of quiet confidence that makes the air shift. I feel it in my bones. My breath catches in my throat as I duck down a little, peeking out behind the seats.

This man has presence. He radiates authority and strength. He’s definitely in first class. He looks so at home here. I can’t imagine that man in the back with Taint and his friends. He would look more out of place than even my dad did.

The flight attendant rushes over to help him, thrusting her chest out as she gives him a radiant smile and some sultry eyes.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asks in a flirty tone that she didn’t have when she offered me the hot towel.

I can’t blame her for laying it on thick.

He’s so hot. Wildly hot.

I can’t take my eyes off him. His bright blue eyes are mesmerizing.

He’s so tall with broad shoulders and a muscular body—the kind that comes from doing physical activities like rock climbing or surfing rather than spending hours in the gym.

His white shirt is clinging to him in all the right places, sleeves rolled up his thick forearms, a few buttons undone to reveal the sun-bronzed skin on his chest. His trousers are navy blue, tailored but comfortable, the kind worn by a man who can afford to look casual in thousand-dollar clothes.

He has dark blond hair that’s a little longer than you’d expect from a businessman, but it suits him so well. It’s streaked with the faintest threads of silver. I think about what it would be like to slide my hands into that hair as I gaze into those stunning blue eyes.

He shows the flight attendant his ticket and she points right at me.

I suck in a sharp breath as I duck down, hiding behind the seat. My cheeks turn hot as I blush with embarrassment. Did he see that?

What am I doing?

I try to calm the nerves rippling through my body as I rifle through my bag pretending that I’m looking for something.

A few agonizing seconds later, he arrives at my aisle, towering over the seat. I keep my eyes on my bag as my hand moves around inside. I’m too shy to look at him.

He opens the compartment over his head and reaches up to put his bag inside. I sneak a peek at his stomach and gulp. His white shirt pulls up a little, revealing tanned skin on a delicious six-pack. My mouth waters as my hungry eyes slide down to his belt buckle and then to his pants.

I hear the compartment door slam closed and I jerk my attention back onto my bag. Geez, where are these… headphones.

I grab my AirPods and pull them out of my bag like I was totally looking for them the whole time and not avoiding the gaze of this gorgeous man.

“Is this your book?”

God that voice… It’s deep and raspy and sends goosebumps tingling down my spine.

“Yes, sorry,” I say as I take it and look up at him.

Ours eyes connect and it’s like a jolt in my chest. He doesn’t look away. He just stands there and stares like he’s seeing something special for the first time.

Something low and heavy stirs in my stomach. The air feels thinner. My fingers twitch against the armrest like they’re searching for something to hold on to.

He’s even hotter up close. There’s a day or two of stubble shading his sharp jaw and his mouth is pure sensual perfection.

I imagine this guy in a bathing suit by the pool, all shirtless and sparkling sublime in the sunlight.

There’s no way this guy is going to be vacationing at Sleazy Sins with us.

He’s probably staying at some secluded mysterious resort that only rich people know about.

The kind that never shows up on the discount booking sites.

He smiles, deep and seductive as he looks down at me. I’m suddenly warm all over and wishing these airplane windows could open so I can get some air. He smells so good like rich cologne and it’s teasing me something fierce.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he says as he sits down, moving with a confident precision, the way dominant men do when they’re used to being in control.

“Not at all,” I say with a lump in my throat as we’re suddenly side by side, about to embark on a four hour plane ride. Together.

My pulse races knowing I’ll be beside this man for the entire flight. How am I supposed to eat or relax or even breathe? I might be more comfortable back there in the vomit seat surrounded by Taint and his dickhead friends.

He buckles his seatbelt and the click sounds so final. Like I’m unable to escape.

I stare at the little TV in front of me as my heart pounds.

Intruding…

He’s not intruding.

He’s invading.

My seating area, my heart, my soul, my central nervous system. He’s taking control of all of it.

And god help me, but I think I like it.