Hawke: Christmas in Paradise (Billionaire Boys Club)

by Ellie Masters

  “Part of the prenup are certain status updates.”

  “Really? I’m to report when I’ve fucked my wife?”

  “I wouldn’t consider burdening you with that. Her reports will, of course, include information about ovulation and likelihood of conception.”

  “You’re out of your ever-loving mind.”

  After Quinn, the idea of touching any other woman is enough to make me sick. My dick shrivels thinking about having to touch Candace Yarbrough.

  “I’m thorough. And you can dislike it as much as you want, but you forced this on yourself. If you’d only done as I asked…”

  “Your demands are insane. You wanted me to comb through your list of eligible bachelorettes and pick one like a goddamn Christmas present. The thing is, we don’t do Christmas.”

  “That doesn’t change anything. And since I knew you would react like a child, I’ve made sure you will follow through.”

  “Where’s Cherise?”

  “Sissy is in good hands. I gave you the option to do as you’re told. You ran off to Euphoria and hooked up with a nameless nobody instead of choosing your wife. Now, I’ve settled things. You will marry Candace.”

  “I don’t love her. How about that?”

  “And yet, the two of you are compatible. You make a good match. People will accept it.”

  “They’ll accept it because Candace runs at the mouth.”

  This is where my mistake really shines. The constant on again-off again hookups gives the illusion there’s more going on between me and Candace than there is. Candace, being a gold-digging bitch, fans those rumors into something more than they are. She tells anyone who’ll listen how progressive she is, that we’ve agreed to see other people, and that she’s letting me sow my wild oats until I’m ready to settle down.

  With her.

  As my wife.

  “Compatible?” My fists clench. “We fuck, Mother.” She twitches at the vulgar word. “That’s as far as any compatibility goes. I’m not marrying her, and that’s final.”

  As soon as I can get out of this room, I’m going to find Quinn. Not sure where her thoughts are about the two of us, I’m hoping I can fix this mess and convince her Mother is the crazy one, not me.

  Quinn will forgive me. At least, once I explain what’s happening.

  I hope.

  “Where’s Cherise?” I know how to protect Cherise from Mother, but it’s going to take time, money, and lawyers.

  “Cherise is comfortable and safe.” Her lips press into a hard line, telling me that’s all she’ll say.

  “I swear to God, if you do anything to hurt her…” I leave unsaid what I’ll do. Cherise is my one fatal weakness. I’ll do anything to keep her safe and make her happy. It’s why Mother uses Cherise to bend me to her will.

  “I’m dying, Hawke. No need to spout off vulgar threats about killing me. This is what’s going to happen.” Her eyes sharpen and glitter like knives. “Tonight, you’ll attend the New Year’s Gala with Candace on your arm. Rumors are already circulating about a big announcement. Right before midnight, you’ll take the stage, find something witty to say, and propose.”

  “Not going to happen. There’s no way you can make me do this.”

  “You’ll not only do it, but you’ll tell everyone how excited you are. So much so, that you can’t wait for a proper engagement. Instead of a June wedding, you’ll marry on the first day of Spring. A nice March wedding will kick off the social season. You’ll perform your duties, consummate the marriage, and…”

  “You’re insane.”

  “You’ll never see Sissy again if you don’t. Her guardianship will not pass to you until you fulfill the requirements of your father’s will. Bear a son for the Sterling name and Cherise will be returned to you. Fail to do so, and she’ll be gone to you forever.”

  “You can’t do that. I’ll find her, and—”

  “You won’t find her.” A sublime smile creeps across her face. “As for Miss Hayes, don’t contact her again. You’re an engaged man. If you do, you’ll never see your sister again.”

  “What do you have against her?”

  “Other than the complete lack of breeding, social status, and money? Everything.” Mother gives an unladylike snort. “She’s beneath you. When I’m gone, you’re the face of Sterling Enterprises and everything that comes with it. Fail to produce an heir and Sterling Enterprises gets sold off piece by piece. You have three years.”

  Fucking bitch.

  I’ve never hated being a Sterling more than I do in this moment, but until I can sort a few things out, I’m bound to play along. I do it for Cherise.

  As for Quinn, I pray she’ll forgive me.

  That night, I ring in the new year with Candace Yarbrough hanging from my arm and a five-carat ring sparkling on her finger. Mother makes the announcement, not me. All I do is play along like the dutiful son. I give Candace an uninspired kiss under a moldy spray of mistletoe and swallow the bile rising in my throat. Candace gives me a strange look, but the excitement of landing the heir to the Sterling fortune makes up for my lackluster performance.

  Mother’s terms for giving Cherise back to me include locking me in this loveless marriage. The wedding will be in three short months. I did get Mother to relent on one small thing. After the vows, Cherise will be returned to me.

  There’s something about hatred. It sparks creativity and ingenuity. Although it kills me, I make no effort to contact Quinn. Until Cherise is taken care of, I won’t tempt fate.

  The engagement makes international news as one of the world’s most eligible bachelors is taken off the market. Meanwhile, I fulfill a promise and unravel the chains my mother binds me in, looking for the loophole which will set me free.

  Thirty-Six

  Quinn

  Six more weeks pass, and I lick my wounds. News of Hawke Sterling’s engagement to Candace Yarbrough splashed all across the news on New Year’s Day. I keep kicking myself for being such a fool, and for believing a word out of his mouth. I tried to call him once, only to find his number blocked.

  I get the message and try to move on with my life.

  As for MindScapeVR, it’s the only thing that gets me out of bed every day. I need to come up with five million in venture capital if I’m going to make my dream come true.

  Tom and I pour over a stack of potential investors while I fight off a wave of nausea. My stomach’s been more sensitive lately. As for now, something I ate doesn’t agree with me. I blame it on the lox and cream cheese bagel I ate on my way to the office. My stomach is staging a full-on revolt. Wave after wave of nausea slams into me, nothing too terrible to make me puke, but it’s enough to stop me in my tracks.

  “You sure you want to look at these?” Tom arches a brow. “You look a little green.”

  “It’s nothing.” I swallow down the queasiness. “I tried out the new bagel place down the street and got bad lox.”

  “Bad lox?” He gives a goofy grin. “Bad lox for you!”

  I ignore his silly pun.

  “Bad luck for them. Do you think I should call and let them know?” The wave of nausea passes. I hope it stays away this time.

  “You should. Maybe other customers got sick too. Not good for opening day.” He shuffles through the stack of mail, his keen eyes sweeping the addresses for what we hope will be new investors. “These came today.” He adds three new envelopes to the stack in front of me.

  “Okay, once we’re done with this.” I pick up one of the new letters off the stack. “That’s odd.”

  “What?”

  “No stamp.” I lift the envelope and show him the face without the postage on it.

  “You going to open it?” Since he seems unconcerned by the lack of postage, I let it go.

  “Hand me the letter opener.”

  He hands over the letter opener, and I open it with a clean slice. The heavy paper inside feels expensive. Far more fancy than the cheap, bulk paper we get by on, but then we’re very mindful of our
expenses. Unfolding the letter, I scan the contents, expecting another rejection, but my eyes pop.

  “What’s wrong?” Tom looks on with concern.

  “A firm called Conte Investments wants to invest a million in MindScapeVR. I don’t remember contacting them. Did You?” The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t seem to place it.

  “Could’ve. They all kind of blend together.”

  Scott’s completely out of the picture, as is Hawke. A sharp pain stabs at my chest when I think of Hawke. The only good thing that came after the fiasco on New Year’s Eve is the IP rights are in fact mine.

  Rather than being a royal dick, Scott allowed me to keep the name of the company and bowed out with more grace than I thought possible. He could’ve fought me on it, but I think he truly is remorseful. We parted amicably.

  As for Hawke, it’s been radio silence. No calls. No emails. No nothing. I don’t know who Cherise is, but she was enough for him to do a complete 180 as far as we’re concerned. I thought Cherise was his new fiancée, but that’s Candace, similar name, but different person.

  I try not to think about him. It’s too painful. Fortunately, MindScapeVR keeps me plenty occupied. I’ve been putting in 12- and 14-hour days for over a month and a half, and will probably continue to do so.

  Keeping the name MindScapeVR was a parting gift from Scott. It allows us to continue forward in our attempts to secure funding without a complete rebrand. Scott didn’t have to give me that. He could’ve been an ass about it, but he did. And I’m thankful.

  “Only four million more to go.” Tom places Conte Investments into a very small pile of papers. We’ve scrounged other investors, one thousand here, five thousand there. But it’s a drop in the bucket considering what our startup costs will be.

  I hate not getting excited by the million dollars Conte Investments brings to the table. It’s more than we had yesterday, but still not enough.

  I take the next letter off the stack, and my eyes bulge when I read the contents. My entire arm trembles as I hand the letter to Tom.

  “What’s this?” He clutches it to his chest. “One-point-five million? Who’s Calloway Inc.?”

  The entire month of January has been nothing but non-stop rejections. Tom and I are at our wits’ end and are beyond desperate.

  “Two and a half million in investment capital in the same day’s mail? What are the odds?” I grab the letter out of Tom’s hand and read it again. Sure enough, Calloway Inc. wants to invest 1.5 million in our company.

  Since Scott’s departure, Tom’s stepped up to help me with the business end of things. We’re both engineers, and there’s much about the business world that is way over our heads. I feel like we’ve been drinking from a firehose, trying to learn the ins and outs of the corporate world without drowning. Honestly, we’re barely treading water. Soon, we’ll hire a business manager. For now, we’re doing the best we can.

  Tom grabs the next letter off the stack and slides the opener through it. He pulls out a thick sheaf of papers, and his brows draw together. His eyes scan left to right as he speed reads to get to the important stuff.

  “Holy shit.” His eyes widen.

  “What?”

  “Four million.” A smile brightens his entire expression. “Holy fuck, Q, we have six and a half million. Plus the five from Hayes Construction…” He drops the papers and jumps to his feet. Grabbing my hands, he pulls me from my seat to twirl me around the room in an excited whirl.

  “You better not be shitting me.” I grab at his arms.

  “Look for yourself.” The papers sprawl all over the floor.

  “I will, what else did it say? That’s a lot of paper.”

  “I don’t know. I stopped reading when I got to the four million part.”

  I stoop down to grab the papers. The movement does something to trigger my nausea. I brace my hand on the table and cover my mouth with the other.

  “Hey, this is weird.” Tom ignores my distress and reaches across the desk. “None of these have postage on them. How’d they get in our mail?”

  There’s a soft knock on our door, which I ignore. I’m more than a little nauseous. I swallow, hoping that’ll make things pass, but saliva pools in my mouth. My stomach clenches, and I stand, ready to make a run for the bathroom. When I straighten, my gaze lands on a set of golden eyes.

  “Hawke?” That’s all I get out before I grab a trashcan to empty the contents of my stomach. I retch and retch and retch. Hands gather my hair and draw it away from my face as I puke out the remnants of bad lox and bagels.

  “Not exactly the reception I was expecting, Miss Hayes.” Hawke’s liquid-smooth voice rolls over me. It’s like melted chocolate, drizzling ooey-gooey goodness everywhere. Fuck, if he isn’t more attractive than I remember. Although, I’ve really tried to put him out of my mind.

  “What are you doing here?” I wipe the spittle from my mouth and lean back. The last time I saw him, he gave me his back and told me to go. He did that right after promising me I was more than a fling. I think he got confused, because even flings are given more respect than he showed me.

  “We need to talk.”

  “We don’t need to…” I bend forward again, retching violently. No way can there be anything left in my stomach, but evidently, I’m wrong. A foul stench rises from the poor waste bin. It makes me want to throw up again.

  “Can I get you some water?” Tom hovers behind me.

  “Yes, please.” I feel like shit. This is more than simple food poisoning. Actually, I’ve felt a little off for the past few days. I attribute it to stress. MindScapeVR is running out of time.

  Hawke finger combs the hair back from my face and gathers it together at my nape. I shake my head violently, freeing myself from his touch. The last time he gripped my hair, he’d been buried balls deep inside my mouth as I gave him one of the best orgasms of his life.

  Two hours later, he told me to leave.

  “We have nothing to discuss.” I gather my hair at the back of my neck and ride another wave of nausea. This time, it passes, relieving me from getting up close and comfortable with the poor trashcan.

  “Maybe we don’t, but I hope you’ll give me a chance to explain.”

  I whip around to look at him, fixing the harshest glare I can manage, and give a sharp shake of my head. “You made things perfectly clear. I’m sorry, but there really is nothing to discuss.”

  “Not even five million?” He glances at the top of the table. “Or rather, six and a half million?”

  “How do you…” Tom hands me a glass of water.

  “Thank you.” I take a sip and stumble to my feet, ignoring Hawke’s attempts to help me stand. I jerk away because I don’t know what’ll happen when he touches me. I’m afraid I’ll feel that zing of electricity shooting up my arm.

  As far as my feelings go, they’re twisted and confused. It’s been eight weeks, and I miss Hawke more today than yesterday, and the day before that. Each day, rather than dulling the terrible ache, only increases the pain I feel with him gone. I miss him terribly.

  When he forced me to leave, he ripped out a piece of my soul. I haven’t been whole since. And now, he’s back. Why?

  “I gave you my word,” he says with a sigh. “I’d get you the capital you need. I brought the letters earlier. You weren’t here, so I put them in the mailbox. I tried to leave, but I couldn’t. I needed to see you.”

  “I don’t understand.” He’s speaking, but the words aren’t connecting in my head.

  “I spoke with my friends who offered to help. You know one of them. Remember Jack Conte? The doctor who took care of you?”

  “I do?” I shake my head, too weary to make sense of what Hawke’s saying. I can’t even figure out why he’s here. “I feel like I could use him about now.”

  “Are you okay?” The tenderness of his words isn’t forced. He seems genuinely happy to see me, despite my current state, which I don’t understand. There’s none of that murderous fury or that so
ul-shattering defeat like when his mother mentioned Cherise.

  “Just bad lox.” I wobble on my feet and take another sip of the water Tom gave me. He hovers just out of reach, eyes wide as he looks at Hawke. Tom knows everything about Hawke. I speak about little else. Tom’s been a good friend listening to my nonsense.

  The acidic tang of vomit coats my mouth. “I’m going to the bathroom to brush my teeth.” This sour taste is gross. Not to mention, I need a moment alone before I can face the heady intoxication Hawke’s sudden, and unannounced, arrival brings.

  Thirty-Seven

  Hawke

  “How long has she been sick?” I turn to Quinn’s lead engineer, demanding an answer.

  He hesitates before answering. “She’s fine. Just had bad lox this morning.”

  “You sure it’s the lox?” I itch to go to her, but sense she needs a moment. Hell, I need a moment. Coming unannounced was a risk. I didn’t know what kind of reception I’d receive.

  The puking part is an unexpected twist and was not on the list of potential possibilities.

  There’s simply something about Quinn I can’t escape. In the two months since I last saw her, she’s all I can think about.

  Two months. I can’t believe it’s been nearly two months. All day, every day, Quinn has been on my mind. During the day, I wonder what she’s doing. At night the fantasies return, each one filthier than the last. My balls ache for her. My dick weeps for her. As for me, I simply ache to hold her in my arms.

  I miss my girl.

  Instead of Quinn, I’m saddled with Candace, a royal bitch who’s getting worse by the day. Demanding and insufferable, she’s determined to get into my bed. None of her little tricks does anything for me. Fondling my crotch has me lashing out. I left bruises on her wrist the last time she tried. She believes if she can get me hard, she’ll cement her place by my side. It won’t. I don’t want her anywhere near me, but she clings to Mother’s damn agreement.

  When she tried using her toe to stimulate me during a charity dinner, I practically spit out my drink and left her there alone for the rest of the night. When she later slipped into my bed, naked, I stormed out of my penthouse in nothing but boxers.