Hawke: Christmas in Paradise (Billionaire Boys Club) Read online

  “Ten days, all-inclusive…” Her eyes scan our itinerary. “You know you have to fly to get to Euphoria?”

  “Yeah, I’m kind of ignoring that right now.”

  Sadie knows everything about me, especially my fear of flying.

  “And?”

  “How bad can it be?” I give a little shrug. “Scott will be with me, and I can’t live my whole life afraid of flying.” If our funding is secured, like I think it will be, I’ll have a lot of flying in my future. Although, our VR technology may make even that superfluous. I’m so excited I practically bounce on my toes.

  “He’s a great catch. I’m so happy for you.” Sadie glances over her shoulder to where Scott and Dan say goodbye. A sigh escapes her. “I guess that’s one stallion I’ll never get a chance to ride.”

  “Sadie!” A blend of athlete and nerd, Scott lucked out when looks and brains were being passed out.

  “Oh, I’m kidding.” She gives me a playful shove. “Now, you need to get home and pack.” Propping her hands on her hips, she glances around the office. “I’ll stay and clean up.”

  “You’re the best.” I give her a hug. It’s late, and she’s right. It’ll be midnight by the time I get home. “I’m going to say goodbye to my fiancé.” I like the way that rolls off my tongue. I head toward Scott.

  “Awesome party, wasn’t it?” Scott lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my engagement ring. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s the best.”

  “You excited about our trip?”

  “Very much. I’m going home to pack.”

  “Don’t pack too much.” He grabs my hips and pulls me to him. “I don’t plan on letting you out of the hotel room.”

  I giggle as he nuzzles my neck, peppering me with kisses until he reaches my mouth. He tastes like beer, but I don’t care. I loop my arms over his shoulders and enjoy the soft feel of his lips on mine.

  “I’ll pick you up just after five. You going to be okay on the plane?”

  My fear of flying is no secret. It’s a major phobia complete with full-scale meltdowns, but I’ll figure something out.

  “With you by my side, I’m not afraid of anything.” I refuse to allow irrational fear to hold me back. It’s time to face my anxiety about flying, and that might not be a bad New Year’s resolution: overcome irrational fear of flying.

  “I love you, Q. We’re going to do great things together.” He gives a light slap to my butt. “Now go. I’m already packed.” He glances over his shoulder, where Sadie bustles around picking up red cups. “I’ve got a couple things to wrap up in my office, then I’m headed home.”

  “I love you too.” He kisses me on the nose and leads me to the elevators, where he pushes both the up and down buttons.

  My elevator car arrives first. He blows me a kiss as the doors close. My stomach drops as I head down. Enclosed spaces aren’t really my thing either.

  I make it all the way to my car, only to realize I left my keys on my desk. With a frustrated sigh, I push the up button and head back up.

  Two

  Quinn

  The main lights are out when I step off the elevator. No surprise. Building maintenance shuts most things off when no one’s working. Every third fluorescent light remains on, but they flicker, and that always bugs me.

  I can walk these halls blindfolded, but I prefer bright lights. It feels less spooky. When the team heads out to hit the bars, I stay behind, writing code that will one day make us millions. I typically avoid the halls and sprint from my office to the elevator to avoid the flickering lights. My mind conjures zombies wandering the halls, eager to devour human flesh, and I hate everything about zombies.

  My office sits at the far end of the hall, right beside Scott’s corner office. All the offices are dark, doors closed. Except for the hum of the air handlers, it’s quiet, the kind of quiet I find soothing during the day. At night, my mind goes to zombie-land.

  I’d be working tonight, except there’s no more work to do. Everything’s sent, and we’re less than two weeks from the new year. Two weeks from finding out if our venture capitalist will fund our project and make all our dreams come true.

  Light spills from beneath the crack of Scott’s office door. I’ll say a quick goodbye before heading home to pack, but first, I retrieve my keys from my desk. Quiet wraps all around me. The carpet muffles my steps. A low moaning makes me jump.

  I spin around. My active imagination fills my head with zombies. The sound repeats and comes from behind Scott’s door. I cock an ear. There it is again.

  I know that sound. It’s the sound Scott makes when he’s on top of me.

  Tiptoeing toward the door, my hand shakes as I grasp the doorknob. A little twist and I pause at the sound of a female voice.

  “Oh, yes! Yes! Right there.” I know that voice too and release the doorknob as if I’ve been shot.

  “Goddamn, but you’re a good fuck.” Scott’s deep voice rumbles through the door.

  I shove a knuckle between my teeth to hold back a sob.

  “Harder, baby. Fuck me harder,” Sadie cries out.

  My heart wedges sideways in my throat.

  How could she?

  How could he?

  I turn. It’s instinctual. More of a run and hide kind of girl, I handle conflict poorly. With a lump in my throat, a series of emotions rush through me: shock, anger, indignation.

  Shame.

  I feel bad for snooping.

  Snooping! I hate how I’m always so goddamn apologetic.

  How dare they?

  The two people in the world I love the most?

  I spin back around and grab the door handle. The emerald catches my eye. With my heart pounding like a jackhammer, my hand shakes as I twist off the ring. Blood rushes past my ears, a low roar rages in my veins. I curl my fingers around the damn ring.

  “Harder. Goddammit, fuck me harder.” Sadie’s voice makes me grit my teeth.

  “You like it rough, you little bitch?” Raw and hoarse, I barely recognize Scott’s voice.

  “Yes, Sir!” she screams. “Smack my ass.”

  “Damn! You’re a kinky bitch.” A loud crack makes me jump. Sadie’s low moan brings tears to my eyes.

  Something shifts inside of me. All the love, which filled my heart, pours out in a flood of betrayal, hurt, and misery. I shove the door open and fling the ring at Scott’s head. Naked below the waist, his hips thrust forward. Sadie bends over his desk, hands grasping the far side as he fucks her from behind.

  “Ow.” He raises his hand to the back of his head. When he looks over his shoulder, his face pales. “Q…”

  “Don’t Q me, you fucking asshole.”

  He pulls out of Sadie, and she scrambles to pull her dress down.

  I point at her. “And you! You—you fucking bitch!” My voice cracks as my fingers curl.

  For a moment, I consider launching at the both of them. I want to slap his face and pull her hair, but me and conflict don’t get along. This is way outside my comfort zone. A whole body shake rattles through me as I struggle to take a breath. Unable to form any more words, I pivot and rush down the dimly lit hall.

  “Shit!” The sound of Scott buckling his pants makes me grit my teeth.

  Don’t cry.

  Don’t give them the satisfaction. But hot tears fill my eyes.

  I stab at the elevator down button. Jabbing it over and over.

  “Come on. Come on.” I don’t want to face them. I can’t.

  “Q!” Scott shouts from down the hall. He’s coming after me. “It’s not what you think.”

  I spin around and don’t give a flying fuck about the tears streaking down my face. “I’m pretty certain it’s exactly what I think.”

  “No.” He holds out a hand, begging. “It’s the last time.”

  “Last time? You mean that wasn’t the first time? How long have you been fucking my best friend?”

  Sadie appears behind him. She struggles to adjust her dress. For some reason,
her betrayal cuts deeper than Scott’s. It should be the other way around, but it’s not. What does that say about my feelings for Scott?

  “Quinn, we were just blowing off some steam.” Sadie wrings her hands and hovers behind Scott.

  “Looks like that’s not all you’ve been blowing, you fucking bitch.”

  She grabs at Scott’s arm. The gesture is natural, practiced, and tells me everything I need to know. They’re together.

  “Why?” I swipe at my tears. “Why propose to me when you’re fucking her behind my back?” I don’t understand. “And you? How could you do this to me?” Sadie’s betrayal cuts deep.

  “Come on, Q, don’t overreact.” Scott takes a step forward, but I hold up a hand, halting him. “Let’s talk this through.”

  “Talk it through? You’re fucking my best friend.” My ex-best friend. “There’s no talking through this. We’re done.” I wrap my arms around myself and struggle not to lose my shit. Where’s the goddamn elevator? Why is it taking so long? “I want you gone. Both of you. Pack your shit and leave. You’re fired. I never want to see either of your faces again.”

  “You’re firing me?” Scott’s eyes widen, then an indignant expression replaces the shock on his face.

  “Damn straight.”

  “You can’t fire me.” His lips twist.

  “Yes, I can. You’re done here. Pack your things and leave.”

  His arms cross, and he slowly shakes his head. “That’s not happening.”

  “I want you out of here by morning.”

  Why is he still standing there?

  Sadie won’t look at me. She cowers behind him. Her damn hand clutches the curve of his bicep as her eyes shift between me and him. He takes a step forward and she shuffles in lockstep with him.

  “There’s no way I’m walking away from this,” he says. “Not when we’re so close.”

  “It’s my idea—”

  “But my company.”

  “Our company.” And we’re two weeks away from launching, providing we secure investment capital. We can’t afford this shit show, but here we are.

  “My company.” His lip pulls up in a sneer.

  I don’t like the way he emphasizes ‘my,’ or the way he broadens his stance. That’s what he does when he plays hardball. Never in a million years did I think I would be on the receiving end of that look.

  “We’re done here.”

  “No, Q.” The corner of his lips curls up. “We’re not done. We’re going to fix this.”

  “Then, I quit.” I’ve been working nonstop for the past two years, living and breathing my creation. I can’t walk away from it.

  “You won’t.” He sounds sure of himself, but then he knows me. “No way you’re walking away. I know you, and you’ll be back, right where you belong.” He snickers. “Take a few days and think about this, really think about it.”

  “You proposed. You said you loved me. What the hell?”

  “You’re a great girl, Q, but not so great in bed. It’s not my fault I need to look elsewhere.”

  “This is my fault?” I press my finger to my breastbone, stunned by his audacity to pin this on me.

  His words cut deep and hurt all the more because they’re true. We never had the kind of passion I witnessed between him and Sadie, and nothing at all like Ted and Shirley desperately groping each other in the hall.

  It’s a sobering truth. I suck in bed.

  The elevator call bell dings, and the doors slide open.

  “You sleep around, and it’s my fault?” My voice cracks as I back into the elevator, cheeks heating, tears falling, nose running, and heart breaking—because I believe him. I believe this is all my fault.

  He gives a shake of his head. “We make a good team, Q. Give it a few days and you’ll realize this is nothing. Why don’t you sleep it off, and we’ll talk in the morning?”

  “Sleep it off?”

  “Once you calm down, we’ll talk through it.” He spreads his arms out wide. “I don’t want to lose you. We need you.” His sneer turns into that charming smile I fell in love with. But I see something stirring in his eyes.

  Fear.

  What does he have to fear? He’s not the one losing everything.

  “There’s nothing to talk through.” I stab at the button marked L2.

  As far as him needing me, that’s the only thing he says that makes sense. He can’t launch without me. Not to mention, our funding is yet to be secured. If the investors request any changes, Scott will need me. I’m the one thing I can take from him. He may not care about me, but he needs my brain.

  As the elevator doors close, I roll back my shoulders and look him square in the eyes. “I don’t need to sleep anything off. I quit.” My entire body shakes. I really suck at confrontation, and I feel as if I’ve fought a massive battle and lost. Adrenaline surges through my veins, speeding up my heart rate, and making my nerves buzz. My hand shakes and I curl my fingers to keep him from seeing how out of control I really am.

  He calls out. “We’ll talk this through tomorrow.”

  Fat chance.

  Three

  Quinn

  Needless to say, I barely sleep. It’s four in the morning when I give up and crawl out of bed. My entire body still shakes from last night. Not to mention my brain won’t stop. It’s caught on an endless replay of Scott fucking Sadie.

  I’m hurt. Angry. Shocked. And more than a little pissed.

  If it wouldn’t buy jail time, I’d cut Scott’s dick off and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

  Bastard.

  And the nerve to say it’s my fault? I’m still working through that.

  After I take a long shower, where I cry my eyes out for the hundredth time, I remember the all-inclusive trip Scott planned to Euphoria.

  He wants me to think about it? To calm down and slink back to him with my tail tucked between my legs and my dignity shattered beyond repair?

  That’s not happening.

  Since the whole dick-whacking is a no go, I turn to the trip.

  Think about it? Clear my head?

  I will oblige the bastard. The trip is paid for, and while it means flying alone, I’m too angry to bother about my silly fear of certain death in an airplane.

  After I dress, I look for the itinerary and check the time. The next few minutes see me racing around my apartment, packing what I hope I’ll need for the next ten days. I check into my flight, splurge on a first-class upgrade, and cancel his ticket.

  It feels good to take charge of something, even something as small and meaningless as canceling his ticket. Not that I think he’d show up, but it gives me a sense of power and control. Those two things are sorely lacking in life right now.

  Before I can think about what I’m doing, and do the reasonable thing, like back out of this hair-brained idea, I call for a car and race to the airport. I’m late, but I have no bag to check, which means I head straight for the line at security.

  Goosebumps lift on my arms as I make my way through the line. A tingle of anticipation runs through me, warning me this is a bad idea, as does the certain knowledge I’ll soon be sealed inside what practically amounts to a flying coffin.

  The urge to turn around overwhelms me, but my bag disappears inside the X-ray scanner, and one of the TSA officers gives me an irritated look when I hesitate outside the full-body scanner.

  “Miss, please step inside. Hands over your head.”

  Feels more like getting arrested than traveling to a dream vacation.

  Amid the stares of the passengers queueing up behind me, my feet move. My hands lift over my head. I’m scanned for weapons, explosives, and whatever else it is they’re looking for that I don’t have.

  “Exit now.” The TSA officer barks at me as I leave the scanner. He holds up a hand. “Just a moment.” His attention shifts to a screen. Before I can back out, he waves me on. An older gentleman steps into the scanner behind me, and I grab my bags off the belt.

  You can still tu
rn around. Nothing’s stopping you.

  Except Scott’s hurtful words. My fault.

  Screw him. It’s not my fault, but my inner voice says otherwise. Maybe if I had been wilder and more exciting in bed, I wouldn’t be standing here watching white tin-can monstrosities land and take off.

  Standing in front of the plate glass windows is not where I need to be, but I need to double-check my gate. Some asshole thought posting the monitors in front of those windows was a goddamn good idea.

  Despite running late, I made up time by not checking a bag. All I have are my backpack and a small carry-on. I can’t believe I’ll be on a plane soon.

  Every second, my heart pounds faster. The urge to ditch this act of rebellion grows stronger and stronger. Not that this is really a rebellious act. It’s more like giving Scott the proverbial finger. If he wants me to really think about things, then I’ll do just that. And I’ll do it on his dime.

  In paradise.

  Bastard.

  Strangers rush all around me as I tighten my grip on my carry-on. There’s no way I’m going to make it through this alone. I need a little help and do a quick google search about anxiety and flying.

  Evidently, alcohol helps. As does cold medicine.

  One of those sundry stores sits right next to my gate. With fifteen minutes before boarding, I head inside. The books distract me, but I move on to the tiny shelf holding cold and flu medicines. What I want isn’t here, but those little bottles of liquor are right next to the checkout counter.

  I grab three of the little bottles, not caring what they hold. The long line bothers me. They’re going to begin boarding soon. My hope is the first-class ticket will make the flight less terrifying. Maybe I won’t feel like I’m crammed into a metal box with three hundred of my newest best friends, aka strangers, as we hurtle toward our death.

  We are, after all, counted as ‘souls on board.’

  That’s what they call us. We’re automatically counted among the dead from the moment the outer door seals us inside until it opens again on the other side.

  I’ll be a soul, not a person.