by S. M. Soto
I smile. A real, genuine smile.
That’s the plan.
I study my reflection in the floor-length mirror in my suite. I can’t get over how different I look. Two days ago, after Kat made sure our bodies were waxed and plucked free of almost all hair, I decided it was time for a change. It wasn’t so much a spur-of-the-moment decision, though. It was something else entirely. I wanted to be a new person. I didn’t want to head back to the West Coast feeling like the same sandy blond, hazel-eyed Mackenzie Wright. Even though I was no longer that girl from high school, I couldn’t help but feel that being near the Savages again would change things. I had to make myself unrecognizable to keep the upper hand, and as I stare in the mirror, I think I’ve accomplished that.
Picking up a strand of my hair that has been dyed jet black and straightened down my back, I have to admit, the hair was a difficult change. Seeing my blond smudged away with black was like watching a piece of me die, and my alter ego emerge. It’ll definitely take some getting used to, but as I rake my gaze over myself for the first time, I can’t help but feel…different. Seductive. The fire engine red wrap dress hugs my curves to perfection and fits damn near like a glove. All the running in the world couldn’t get rid of my backside, so years ago, I decided to embrace it. I switched out the horde of cardio in place for Pilates and weightlifting. Now, my backside is something I’m proud of.
I look dangerous—like a vixen. A sexy, dangerous vixen getting restitution for her sister.
My cell vibrates on the end table. Snapping my gaze away from my reflection, I glance at the message on the brightly lit screen.
Kat: Once you’re ready, the concierge will be waiting with a Town Car. Courtesy of my dad. Kisses.
I roll my eyes. Kat’s father, the mogul, has always worked at his daughter’s beck and call. Vera and Kat are staying at Kat’s family vacation home, but I opted for some privacy because I didn’t want to be a burden. I also wanted time to gather my wits before insinuating myself in the lives of the elite once again. Kat wasn’t happy at the thought of me staying at some random hotel alone, so she had her daddio pull some strings. Instead of staying at a cheap, decent hotel like I intended to, Kat’s father got me a room at the Kings Resort and Spa. It’s as pretentious and snobby as it sounds, but it’s also incredibly beautiful. My suite is otherworldly, and the staff here has been absolutely incredible. For the first time, I feel like a princess. That’s how everyone treats you in a hotel like this. Now I see why people dish out so much money for five-star hotels—because the Kings Resort? It’s more like a hundred-star hotel.
And believe me, I had my qualms about staying here. I mean, the name alone, Kings Resort, felt like some sick joke, especially since I was preparing to deal with the infamous royalty. My staying here is an omen of sorts, but I’m just not sure if it’s a bad or good one.
I stuff my phone into my clutch and check my hair one last time before I leave my room to meet the girls. We’re supposed to have dinner tonight at Nobu, which I’m positive will cost an arm and a leg. I can already feel my credit card sighing at me from within my wallet. I file into the elevator, not surprised to see it filled with handsome men in suits and beautiful women hanging off their arms. If I remember Kat correctly, the owner of the resort chain is throwing some kind of party here this weekend, which means the hotel is filled to the brim with rich uppity people.
Great. Just what I need.
Navigating my way through the crowded lobby, I try not to let the sound of voices grate on my nerves. My phone vibrates in my clutch, and I blow out a sigh, ready to reprimand Kat for rushing me, even though I’m already on my way out.
When I glance at the screen, my heart screeches to a grievous halt, and my mouth goes dry. I swallow thickly, flitting my gaze around the multitude of bodies, looking for a moment of reprieve. I find it in the form of a restaurant labeled The Den that’s blocked off with a “RESERVED—EMPLOYEE PERSONNEL ONLY—KEEP OUT” sign. Saying to hell with it, I sneak past the velvet rope and the sign, finding a small slice of solitude.
With the privacy I need for a conversation like this, I slide my finger across the screen, and my voice wobbles when I say, “Hello?”
“Hi…” The voice sounds surprised I answered. I’m just as shocked. We always let these calls go to voicemail. We haven’t talked on the phone in years; I usually leave voicemails to say what needs to be said.
After brunch with the girls, I finally gave her a call before my flight and left a voicemail. Much like I do every year. Though I didn’t expect to hear back from her. A text message? Sure. A formal email? Most likely. Definitely not this.
“I heard your message. I guess I just … I wanted to see how you were doing.”
I step farther inside the quiet, dimly lit restaurant, taking in how gorgeous and modern the décor is.
“I’m doing fine. How are you, Mom?” I ask. The word mom tastes bitter on my tongue.
“That’s good,” she says quietly, not answering my question. “Are you busy? It sounds like I may be interrupting you. I hope I didn’t ruin your night.” Her voice sounds tired, sad even. And goddammit if it doesn’t make my heart twinge. Of their own accord, my legs take me deeper inside the restaurant, farther away from the vibrant voices in the hotel.
“Uh, yeah. Well, no, you didn’t ruin my night. I was just on my way out with a few friends for dinner and drinks.”
“That’s … wonderful. I … I’ll let you go, Mackenzie.”
For some odd reason, sadness engulfs me. It squeezes my chest in a vise, filling my already battered heart with ice.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Then the line goes dead.
I pull my phone away from my ear and stare down at it, trying to piece together how I feel. Part of me wants to feel angry. How dare she call me like this, after all these years. But the other part of me, the bigger part—the Mackenzie I’ve worked so hard to hide—feels like going home and falling into her arms. Just as I did so often when I was a kid.
She’s my mother, and I love her. No amount of time away from her can change that.
A throat clearing behind me has my heart lurching in my throat and me whirling on my heels toward the source.
“You obviously don’t read very well.”
My eyes widen when they land on the owner of that rich, decadent voice. A man, a very handsome man, dressed in a pristine gray bespoke suit is seated at a table, apparently enjoying a private dinner. Well, that was before I walked in.
“I-I wasn’t … I-I didn’t …” I manage to say in a noncoherent sentence. Not even one minute with this guy, and he’s turned me into the blubbering loser from high school all over again.
He cocks his head to the side, a blank expression on his face. “Not very articulate either.”
His words irk me. “I … well, I …”
He raises his brow in challenge as if I’ve just proven his point.
Well, surprise, surprise, he’s devastatingly handsome and a complete asshole, too. I know his type all too well.
“Sorry,” I mumble, clearing my throat, “I guess I wasn’t expecting to crash in on someone’s dinner, and I certainly wasn’t expecting that person to be such a royal asshole.”
Surprise shadows his features. A small, sexy smirk plays on the corners of his lips.
Good god. That smirk is doing things to my body that should not be happening right now.
His eyes rove over my body, sending a chill down my spine. It’s not an unpleasant chill, though. It’s actually quite the opposite.
“Royal asshole?” There’s a hint of inflection in his tone. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
This time, it’s my turn to raise my brows. “Yet?”
Like gasoline on a fire, his smirk spreads to an all-out smile that has my breath hitching.
“Sit.”
My body jolts at the order—no, the command—but I don’t give in, even if the strangest sensation burning down my spine is begging me to do it
. To give in to this darkly handsome man.
“I don’t take orders from assholes.”
My remark makes him chuckle. The sound is raspy, dark, and oh, so enticing. My gaze is riveted to his Adam’s apple that bobs deliciously to accommodate his humor. He’s … gorgeous. Completely gorgeous in a dark, rugged way. His hair is black—not brown or dark brown, but black—and unkempt. The color mirrors mine except his is natural. His chiseled face is reminiscent of a Greek god. His cheekbones are sharp, and his lips are full, and, if I’m being completely honest, extremely distracting. By the width of his shoulders and the build of his upper body, I can tell he’s fit—extremely fit.
Even with all these amazing qualities, I can’t tear my eyes away from something else. His eyes. At the surface, they don’t seem that special, just a deep blue that matches his dark looks. It’s a common blue that would be easy to overlook. His brows are the prominent feature and what people most likely notice. Thick and arched, they darken his expression with heat, but his eyes remain icy, chilling me to the bone.
My legs clamp together as I ogle him, trying to find my voice or another smart remark. Instead, I turn on my heels, ready to leave, but his voice stops me.
“Have dinner with me.”
An electric shock bursts through my spinal column and vibrates in my fingers and toes. Slowly, I glance over my shoulder, and he points at the empty side of the table. “No company. Might as well humor me.”
I open my mouth to say something but snap it shut. I mean, seriously, what the hell do I say to that? I should leave. I need to leave. Go and never come back because this man is so out of my league, it’s not even funny, but for some reason, I don’t. I suck in a lungful of air, pivot, and stride back toward the table, trying like hell not to wobble in these six-inch heels.
Seemingly out of thin air, someone dressed in a hotel uniform brings a chair for me and helps me sit, all the while tall—even sitting down, this man would tower over my small frame the moment he stands—dark, and handsome watches my every move. I had no idea hotel employees were waiting in the wings and shadows of this restaurant watching my strange yet arousing encounter with this man.
Slowly, I lower myself into the seat, feeling my nerves rise. The decadent, savory smell of his food hits me first, and my stomach rumbles. My mind immediately drifts to Vera and Kat, who are probably waiting for me to arrive at Nobu. I don’t want to be that friend, the one who ditches her girlfriends because she meets a man, but Jesus Christ, when will I ever get the chance to enjoy a meal with a man as gorgeous, intimidating, and intriguing as the one sitting across from me again? The likelihood is never.
“I’d like to make it known I’m only sitting because I’m hungry.” And not because you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
I keep that last tidbit to myself.
The handsome stranger lets out a dark, husky chuckle that hits me in places a laugh never should. It’s so foreign yet titillating.
His face splits into a mind-blowing grin that has my lady bits clenching. I take in the boyish gleam in his iridescent blue eyes and his masculine features and cock my head to the side. There’s something so familiar about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Noted,” he remarks in a deep, raspy voice that travels through my body in waves. The way he speaks, his timbre is so incredibly sexy, and it has me forgetting why I came here in the first place. “I didn’t catch your name.”
The heat brewing in his eyes has my chest rising and falling erratically as it tries to accommodate my heavy breathing.
“I didn’t give it,” I say in a breathy voice, getting lost in his turbulent gaze. He smirks as though he knows his effect on me, then rests his forearms on the tablecloth and slowly leans toward me. My eyes widen, and my lungs squeeze painfully, restricting air, just waiting for him to make his next move. His head dips low, his lips grazing my ear. His masculine scent wafts around me.
“It’s a pleasure, no name.”
I smile and try to ignore the buzz of butterflies in my stomach and the thrill shooting up and down my spine. “It’s Mackenzie.”
He pulls away just enough to look into my eyes.
“Mackenzie,” he repeats my name as if he’s testing out the sound of it on his tongue. And fuck me if hearing my name come from his lips doesn’t do strange things to my body. “Tell me about yourself. What brings you to the resort?”
“Well, I … Wait, I didn’t even get your name. Seems a little unfair, don’t you think?”
He seems slightly surprised and taken aback by the question. Did he think I could read minds and would automatically know his name?
“It’s Baz.”
“Hmm. Interesting name.”
“So I’ve heard,” he replies nonchalantly. “Now, tell me about you, Mackenzie.”
The same hotel employee from earlier rolls in with a silver tray and stops the cart right next to me. The plate of food revealed is the same as what the man across from me is eating. The smell of the grilled salmon in a savory red wine with roasted vegetables on the side has me salivating as he slides my plate in front of me.
“Thank you,” I mumble, still feeling a bit out of sorts with the knowledge that this man has hotel employees at his beck and call. He didn’t even have to tell them to prepare me a plate or grab me a chair. They just automatically knew. If I didn’t know it before, I sure do now—this man must be someone with a lot of pull if he has these people scrambling after him.
The employee pours me a glass of wine while tall, dark, and handsome sips on what I think is whiskey in his tumbler. Or is it bourbon? What do rich people prefer to drink?
After taking a large gulp of wine for courage, I remember what Baz asked me before my food came.
“Well”—I clear my throat—“I’m from New York, and I’m a writer—well, sort of—just here on a small getaway with my friends.” He doesn’t need to know that this getaway is disguised as a plot with much more … cruel intentions. “And what about you, Mr. No-Company-for-the-Night? Tell me about you.”
Baz’s face shadows with confusion, but then it suddenly clears and morphs into a blank mask, save for his plump lips that are now pursed in a thin, grim line.
“I don’t like it when women play dumb, Mackenzie. It certainly doesn’t do it for me.”
My brows raise, my face colored in surprise.
What the hell is he talking about?
“Excuse me?” I ask, tone affronted.
He watches me carefully as I pause with my knife and fork buried into the salmon.
“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” he inquires, head cocked to the side as though he’s waiting for me to decide on the truth. I slow my chewing and stare at him more intently.
Absolutely no recognition.
Other than his eyes. When I stare into his eyes, I feel like I know him. There’s familiarity there. Whatever darkness lurks there mirrors mine as if we’re one and the same.
“Am I supposed to?”
I can’t possibly know him, can I? Surely, I would’ve remembered a face like his had I ever run into him before.
He watches me contemplatively for a moment, absentmindedly tracing his fingers through the condensation on his tumbler filled with amber liquid. “I suppose not.”
“Well?” I prompt, now growing antsy, wanting to know the truth.
“Baz Kingston, CEO of King Spas and Resorts.”
My mouth gapes. “You own this place?”
He smirks at my reaction. “I do.”
“Wow,” I breathe. “Was not expecting that.”
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“Most people already know who I am. But you … you’re different. I can’t tell what your agenda is.”
My brows furrow. “Agenda?”
Baz smirks, but it’s not warm or sexy like all his other ones. This one is different. Darker. “Everyone has an agenda, Mackenzie.”
I blush at his words. I don’t even k
now why, but for some reason, what he says makes heat rise to my cheeks. Maybe because he’s closer to the truth than he realizes. Because I do have an agenda. It’s the whole reason I’m here in California. The whole reason I changed my appearance.
“The hotel is incredible. I mean, you should be really proud of everything you’ve done here.”
“I am, thank you. We’re set to open another chain in Fiji as well as in the Hamptons soon.”
“That’s incredible.” I force a smile, trying to ignore my clutch that’s currently burning a hole through my lap. Here I am, sitting across from a CEO millionaire, while I struggle to make enough money to scrape by on.
Sometimes, the universe can be a son of a bitch.
“Enough about me.” He leans back, tone indifferent. “Tell me more about you. What brings you to California?”
Vengeance.
Instead of saying that, I clear my throat, opting for a version of the truth. “My friend’s father got me a room here. You must know him, Mr. Van Der Pont? Well, his daughter is a good friend, so we decided to make this a weekend getaway. Just the girls enjoying their time away from work.”
His eyes are practically incinerating me with the way he’s regarding me. It’s like he’s searching for a lie, something tangible for him to hold on to. Absentmindedly, he rubs the pad of his thumb across his lower lip. It’s incredibly distracting.
“And no boyfriend?”
A squeak slips past my lips. “Uh, no. No boyfriend.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Oh?” I raise a questioning brow. “And why is that?”
He leans forward, again, into my space. “Because, Mackenzie, you’re too sexy not to drive all the men back in New York crazy. Hell, you’re doing it to me right now.”
Ohmygod.
“I … well … I …”
He chuckles at my frazzled response. “Here’s the thing, Mackenzie. You intrigue me as no other woman has. And I like that. A lot,” he muses, settling back in his seat. “You say you came here with your friends to have some fun, so I have a proposition for you.”
