My Unexpected Serenity: California Billionaires Book 1

by Harlow James

  “You never know.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Shayla.” We part from our side hug and get back to work, pushing the emotional whiplash of the evening aside and burying it away, or so I thought until last call comes and the club starts emptying out.

  I sigh in relief as the lack of people inside alerts me to the nearing end of my night. But with my back turned to the crowd, my hands stacking glasses in a tray to take back to the dishwasher, the familiar shiver crawls down my neck again, landing just above my ass crack, bringing a heated flurry along with it. As if my body can sense it, I feel a pair of eyes on me with so much intensity behind them that my limbs feel paralyzed by the glare.

  When the momentary scorching simmer leaves my proximity, I force my neck to spin to the side just in time to catch the back of Mr. Suit casually striding out of the club, leaving a lasting impression on my body, a feeling that is so foreign, my mind and heart don’t know what to think—because a feeling like that can only mean one thing—trouble or an unwelcome distraction.

  Chapter 2

  Wesley

  Two Hours Earlier

  “It’s about time you show up.” Hayes glances up at me briefly from his phone. I give him one lift of my brow before settling into the booth across from him.

  “This is your idea of a place to conduct business?”

  “Who said anything about business?” he questions before taking a sip of his whiskey. “I’m in the mood for some pleasure tonight.” His cocky grin makes its presence known as my eyes scour the club around me. “But I figured why not kill two birds with one stone and scope out the place I’m considering investing in.”

  This is exactly the type of place Hayes would frequent—his need for the fast and furious life far exceeding my own. A few years ago this scene would appeal to me as well, but that was before my company took off and my name became one that would end up in the tabloids faster than the flash of a camera taking the pictures that accompanied the tag line.

  “Last I heard syphilis doesn’t bring pleasure, more like pain.” My eyes land on a waitress just as she acknowledges my presence and sashays over to our table.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Just water please.”

  Hayes forms a thin line with his lips as the waitress steps away. “Sorry. I should have thought better than to have you meet me here,” he offers as his hand waves out to the club. “I’ve just heard how hot this spot has become and wanted to check it out for myself, for research purposes, you know?”

  “It’s fine.” I grin over at him and then turn back to observe the room.

  Neon purple and red lights flicker across the crowd grinding to Low by Flo Rida. The bass of the music is so intense that I know I’ll feel it vibrate through my body long after I leave the establishment later. The epitome of nightlife and young adulthood swirls around me, and all I can think about is how my life was all about this thrill at one time. Now my mind is trained to focus on my impending meeting in the morning and very little else besides work.

  As I wait on the waitress to bring my water, I take a moment to observe the crowd and the atmosphere of the club. Loft 24 may be new to the nightlife circuit in southern California, but they sure have made a statement, which is evident by the throngs of people packed into the space tonight. My eyes move toward the bar to appreciate the design choice just as I take in the tall and toned raven-haired woman behind the bar standing beside a short brunette.

  Her hair looks black from a distance, but as soon as the light flickers over it I can make out the brown undertones of it. With a hand clasped on her co-worker’s shoulder, she attempts to console her friend as they share a smile, and then she turns back to the bar and slides a mask of professionalism over her face as she fulfills orders and goes back to her job.

  “Here you go,” the waitress speaks as she deposits my drink on the table, leaning forward dramatically to offer up a view of her cleavage. Sorry honey, but once you’ve seen boobs, you’ve seen them all.

  “Thank you.” I drop my chin in acknowledgment as she continues to stand there, assessing Hayes and myself, searching for attention from us I’m sure.

  “Let me know if there is anything else I can get you two,” she croons suggestively, and Hayes takes the bait.

  “We sure will sweetheart.”

  Her mischievous grin spreads wide as she turns to walk away, swaying her hips to the side exaggeratedly.

  “Don’t fuck the waitress,” I grumble loud enough for him to hear me while raising my glass to my lips.

  “Why not?”

  “Because she has stage five clinger written all over her.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Too desperate,” I mutter, taking a sip of the water, pretending that it’s vodka. Although even thinking such a thought can be a dangerous slope for someone like me.

  “I’d say more like willing, which is exactly what I want, Wes. Willingness and verbalized consent.”

  I shake my head at him, wondering if the carefree persona of my best friend will ever subside. “Just make sure you wrap it up and get her to sign an NDA.”

  He scoffs at me. “You act like this is my first time. Believe me, buddy, I have NDA’s tucked in my back pocket like condoms tucked in my wallet.”

  “I’m not your mother. I don’t need to know your business. I just don’t want to be the one helping you out of the mess when you have a Maury moment trying to prove you’re not the father.”

  “But you would,” he answers confidently, forcing me to meet his eyes.

  And damn it, he’s right. The man may frustrate the shit out of me on a day-to-day basis, but he’s still my best friend. He’s been there through everything and of course I would return the favor.

  “Maybe. Depends if you name your first born child after me.” I smile behind my glass.

  He laughs and then his face falls flat. “But what if it’s a girl?”

  “I think a girl could pull off Wesley.”

  “My daughter could, but I wouldn’t put her through that.” He shakes his head, takes a sip of his whiskey, and then changes the subject on me. “So, are you ready for the meeting tomorrow?”

  I nod, swallowing down another gulp of water, swishing the ice cubes around in the glass. “Of course. I don’t want the city to have any doubts about my intentions there.”

  “A historical town like Santa Barbara can be hard to win over.”

  “Yes, but restoring one of their beloved buildings and turning it into a facility that a town like that needs only solidifies my intent. I’m not wanting to tear it down, just bring it back to life and provide a sanctuary to families who need the services we will offer once we open.” I think back to the structure on State Street that’s seen better days—the broken stucco on the outside of the walls, the windows that need replaced, the life that could be brought back to that building with the right person in charge—and the person that makes me want this project to come to fruition. “Plus, there are several members on the committee I’m meeting with tomorrow that know me, so I’m not too worried about it.”

  “That’s all well and good, but that wasn’t necessarily the readiness I was referring to.”

  I glare at him over the rim of my glass and decide not to venture down that topic tonight since I’m still trying to process my feelings about returning to Santa Barbara at the moment.

  Hayes nods and then my eyes are drawn to the bartender again as I swear I see her stare right back at me. It’s hard to tell in the dark lighting of the club, but the longer I fix my attention on her, the more intense this intrigue becomes. I’ve met my fair share of beautiful women, fight them off on a day-to-day basis, especially once I took over my grandfather’s company—God rest his soul. I’ve been careful about who I spend my time with, who I invite into my bed, which has only been two women in the past six years—but the thrill of setting your sights on someone new, someone unexpected, is a feeling that I haven’t felt in ages.

  Her frie
nd pulls her attention away, breaking our eye contact just as Hayes realizes where I’ve been staring. “See something you like?”

  “I was just admiring the design of the bar,” I lie. “I need to go to the restroom.” Hayes doesn’t buy it for a second, which is what happens when someone knows you better than yourself at times. But without waiting for him to respond, I stand, fasten the button on my jacket once more, and then trek toward the bathrooms, needing a reprieve from the sensations that are causing my skin to crawl. I must be on edge if the temptations around me are affecting me more than normal tonight.

  Mustering up the strength not to peer in the direction of the bar again, I leave the bathroom once I finish and find Hayes buried in his phone again as I take my seat. Upon my return, Hayes drops his phone on the table and initiates his inquisition. “Let me ask you... when’s the last time you got your dick wet?”

  His crassness actually pulls my focus back on him, his question putting me on the defensive instinctually. “Why does it matter?”

  “Because based on the way you were staring over there, I’d say your dick is about half-hard right now.”

  “It’s really disturbing how concerned you are about my dick.”

  He laughs and then takes another sip of his drink. “Go talk to her.”

  “Ha. No.”

  “So you admit you were lingering on the hot bartender?”

  My eyes search her out again, catching a flicker of light that flashes on her belly-button ring, and I have to fight the urge to bite my lip. Who knew that a simple piercing could be so damn alluring? Especially on a body like hers. The woman has muscle definition that I know grown men don’t possess.

  “Again, I was admiring the design of the bar.”

  Hayes shakes his head and then leans forward. “There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun, Wes.”

  “The last time I had fun changed my life drastically. Not sure I want to go there again.”

  He nods in understanding, knowing exactly what catastrophic circumstances I’m referring to. “I’m just concerned about you, Wes.”

  “Me or my dick?”

  He chuckles. “Both. All you do is work anymore. You’re so boring you make me bored just looking at you.”

  “Well, sorry that I’m not entertaining enough to keep your attention.”

  “You’re not. But that bartender sure is.” He flicks his eyes in her direction again as I catch her flirtatious smile blind me from afar. She’s gorgeous in an alluring way. Sure, she’s got the wide eyes that aren’t dark based on what I can tell, but the true color is hard to detect in this atmosphere. Her body is impeccable, toned, and curvy, and tanned from the sun that only California can offer. She seems at ease behind the bar, like filling drinks is natural to her, but with each man that pays her attention, I feel a restraint inside of me start to pull tight.

  “Go try your luck then,” I press, even though the thought of Hayes touching her makes me clench my jaw. But I can’t go over there. There’s no point. And I don’t want Hayes to know how much her presence is affecting me.

  “Nah. She looks like too much of a challenge.”

  I scoff at his honesty. “How you’ve become a billionaire with that kind of work ethic is beyond me.”

  “Hey, I’ve worked my ass off when I know the reward is worth the energy. But I also know when to walk away. And that woman,” he says, pointing in the direction of the bar again, “has blue balls written all over her.”

  Speaking of balls, all of a sudden mine are starting to ache. Hayes hit the nail on the head about the length of time it’s been since my dick has felt the warm, wet heat of a woman. But that’s the promise I made to myself years ago—focus on work, drown yourself in responsibility so you’re not tempted to be irresponsible ever again.

  A lull in the volume of the music pulls my attention to the bar as a laugh rings out, the owner once again pulling me under some sort of spell that only she has the ability to conjure. What is it about her? Why am I fixated on this woman when most of the time I have no problem acting as if the female population doesn’t exist?

  “Is Grace already at your house?” Hayes asks, breaking my perusal once more.

  “Huh?”

  “Man, I haven’t seen you this unfocused in a while. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to meet me here after all.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. And yes, Grace has already been made aware that I will be at the estate for the next few months.”

  “Must be nice knowing you’ll be out of the hustle and bustle of L.A. for a while.”

  “I am looking forward to it, truthfully. Especially because of the project that is pulling me to Santa Barbara.”

  “Maybe some time away, even though you’ll still be working, will be the break you seem to need. And perhaps Grace and her motherly love will help remove the stick up your ass.”

  “Fuck you, Hayes,” I mutter as he laughs at me across the booth.

  “Nah, brother. You aren’t my type.”

  I narrow my eyes at him just as the waitress comes over with refills.

  “Thanks, Doll,” Hayes addresses her as she bats her eyelashes at him.

  “Wouldn’t want you two gentlemen to be parched for too long.”

  I roll my eyes to the side so she can’t see me, but seriously—do women think that kind of behavior is attractive? As I glance back at my best friend, his eyes eating her up, I realize that reactions like his are exactly why women continue to act that way.

  She saunters off again as his eyes find me.

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Hey, I’m just being polite. She’s giving us excellent customer service. And if she keeps it up, she can service me later back at my condo.”

  “You’re insane for bringing women back to your place.”

  “That’s what my condo is for, not my house. No pussy will ever step foot in my house.”

  “So I did teach you something worthwhile.” I smirk at him as the song changes, and the beat of the music makes everyone break out in hysterics. Like a moth to a flame, my eyes search out the bartender from earlier, and when I catch a glimpse of her shaking her hips along with everyone else, her movements hypnotize me.

  “God, just go talk to her. Or have you forgotten how to talk to a woman?”

  I shake my head, pulling myself out of the trance. “No. I don’t need any distractions. Besides, I’m going to be in Santa Barbara for months. And she probably lives locally.”

  Hayes rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ. I’m not saying date and marry the woman. Just talk to her. Flirt a bit. Put yourself back out there. You can’t let what happened …”

  “That’s enough,” I bark, shutting down the topic before prying ears and eyes recognize me and linger on words that should never be uttered in public.

  Hayes throws his hands up. “Okay, okay. Just promise me something?”

  I unclench my jaw to respond. “What?”

  “Try to relax while you’re up there, alright? Maybe have a little fun? Spend some time enjoying the carefree life that only Santa Barbara can offer …”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “No, I sound like your best friend. And what I just said is a hell of a lot better than the advice that I want to give.”

  “Which is?”

  “Get your fucking dick wet, Wes. Fuck some woman within an inch of her sanity to unwind that coil of aggression you have buried inside right now.”

  I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, I’d go with the first suggestion, for sure.”

  “Then do it.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Our conversation drifts back to business as Hayes discusses his next investment opportunity with a company that is based primarily in Las Vegas, and I fight every urge I possess to continue to peruse the bartender.

  By the time last call is made, Hayes and I both find ourselves oblivious to how much time has passed, which isn’t unheard of since we got wrapped up in business.

  As a
reward for behaving and not giving into temptation earlier despite my own better judgment, on the way out of the club I grant myself one more blatant appreciation of the woman behind the bar that captivated me more than once tonight—admiring her long, tanned legs peeking out beneath the hem of her barely-there denim skirt, the curve of her hip and the small divots in her back from her hip bones that my tongue itches to lick, and her long, softly curled black hair that hangs past the bottom of her crop top that shows off her stomach and that belly button ring I wish I could catch one more glance of.

  I can see her spine straighten, her hands freeze as I pass by, and if only in my mind, I fantasize about what it would be like to have one evening with her—bury myself to the hilt in her willing body and get lost in the moans of pleasure that would fall from our lips.

  Perhaps Hayes is right. I do need a release.

  But I think we both know it won’t be of the variety that he’s suggesting. Fuck no. There are other ways for me to combat the darkness within, and no woman should be subjected to that.

  Time to focus on the mission I set out to uphold after that day six years ago—to turn tragedy into something positive—and a woman will just deter me from my goals, from the sentence I cast on myself in self-punishment for my mistakes.

  Chapter 3

  Shayla

  Peace. Serenity. An overwhelming calm.

  Those are the words that come to me as my feet pound the dense sand beneath me. The tide is low and the sun is cresting over the horizon, lighting the sky up in yellows and pinks that look unworldly up against the blue hue of the ocean.

  This is why I live in Santa Barbara, why I work two jobs while going to school—so I can partake in this view each day and live right across the street from it.