The Groomsman: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Billionaires of Club Tempest)

by Sloane Hunter

  Her phone beeped loudly and she stopped talking to look at it. A quick smile flashed across her face before it relaxed back to its professional grimace. “I apologize. The resort needs me to finalize some of the catering choices. Would you like me to show you to the rooms or can you make it yourselves?”

  “Do you need me to come with you?” I asked.

  “She’s fine, Alice,” Beck said before Mariana could respond. To the wedding planner, she said, “Thank you for handling everything. We’ll be fine on our own.”

  Mariana nodded. “Fantastic. I’ll be around getting things ready over the week. Don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions or need anything.” She started to walk quickly away. At the door, she turned and said, “Oh and Mr. Callahan and his friends got in not too long ago. They’re down by the Tides and Tiki pool.”

  Left alone at last, we rode the elevator up and burst into the suite. We were greeted by an expansive marble-floored entryway that bled into a sprawling living room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lush grounds and ocean not far in the distance. The five of us paused, stunned, in the doorway at the beauty of the room. Even Jules and Beck, both used to luxury, looked impressed.

  Then Kylie gave a whoop of excitement and dashed around a corner, probably searching for her bedroom.

  The rest of us followed after, albeit a bit more slowly, spreading out in different directions, eagerly searching for the next luxury. They were literally around every corner. I turned on a light and beheld a bathroom bigger than my entire bedroom back home with an ivory jacuzzi and glass-doored shower. The bedrooms all had massive king-sized mattresses, expensive decorations, and boasted the same floor-to-ceiling views as the living room. The suite rang with our excited cries as each of us called to the others to check out what we’d just found.

  Once we got over the rooms, we started to get ready for the pool. I changed into my teal blue bikini that I’d bought just for this trip before throwing a shear wrap over my shoulders.

  I took a quick glance in the mirror. I looked okay, a little tired from the plane. I ran a hand through my auburn hair, trying to smooth down an odd bump or two. Then I caught myself and rolled my eyes. Who the hell was I trying to impress? There would be absolutely no guys this trip. I had a mission and it was to get Beck down that aisle, smiling and happy.

  I headed out to the living room where Jules was already waiting in a slinky black one-piece with parts cut out in strategic places. She looked like a billion dollars of tanned skin and cat-like dark eyes.

  “Damn,” I said, whistling as I approached. “Where’d you get that suit?”

  She turned away from the windows. “Thanks. It was a spare from one of my shows. The designer let me keep it.” As an afterthought, she said, “I like yours too. Where’s it from?”

  I grinned. “T.J. Maxx, fifty percent off.”

  She laughed like I was joking. I didn’t correct her, just chuckled myself.

  I wondered if this girl knew anybody with a normal job. I wasn’t poor, but living in New York (if you weren’t a literal multi-millionaire) you had to prioritize. I’d had my share of absolute shit roommates so most of my salary went into my apartment, a glorious one-bedroom that was all my own. Next biggest expense was going out and having fun with friends. Food and clothes were where I saved — bargain-hunting and lots and lots of pasta.

  “How’d you meet Keegan?” I asked her, changing the subject. Jules might come from a completely different world, but there had to be some common ground we stood on. I just needed to learn more about her.

  “Well, my friend Shelly is a cheerleader for the Knicks and she was having a party in Ibiza. Her boyfriend is this, like, disgusting Russian businessman, but he does have a yacht and I was already in Paris shooting with Remy le Blu and—”

  Jules regaled me with a story that sounded like the setup for a James Bond movie as the others trickled in until it was only Kylie holding us up.

  “Probably preparing for round two with Henry Blackburn,” I said before going to bang on her bedroom door. There was no answer. I went back into the living room just as a loud yelp came from behind a closed door off the living room. Shortly after, Kylie exploded from what turned out to be another bathroom.

  “You didn’t fall in, did you?” I asked.

  She scoffed. “No, but I could have. That toilet is nicer than the shower in the last hotel I stayed at.”

  “Then what was the shriek for?”

  “Bidets are fucking awesome.”

  Outside the temperature was warm and sunny, but not too hot, just enough to make me want to lie down in some shade or take a dip in the water.

  We walked to the pool, following the signs in a pack, each of us announcing our plans for the week, what we wanted to do or try. Sam had made it clear that we were free to do anything on the resort, no matter the cost and I was planning to take full advantage of that. Sam was a freaking billionaire after all. It wasn’t like he was going to miss any of it.

  Though the rest of the week’s itinerary depended on who you asked (Jules sounded like she was going to spend five straight days getting varying types of massages while Sarah was trying to convince Kylie to get on a horse), the general consensus was that tonight, we partied. There was a nightlife scene on a corner of the resort’s sprawling beachfront that looked promising.

  Eventually Jules and Beck wandered further ahead while Kylie, Sarah, and I brought up the rear. Jules seemed much more animated when it came to talking to Beck, obviously feeling more comfortable around her (quite possibly because she assumed Beck was in her social class).

  “What do you do in Kentucky?” Kylie asked Sarah.

  “My parents own a farm just outside of Gainesville,” she replied. “It’s been in the family for generations. I got my degree in agriculture and I’m going to take it over when they retire.”

  “I’ve never met an actual farmer,” Kylie said.

  “It can be frustrating as all hell and a lot of work, but I genuinely love it.” For the first time since I met her, Sarah really opened up, talking about the crops that year and her horse, Misty. I had absolutely no interest in farming or even the countryside, having fled my home state of Kentucky as quickly as possible, but I did enjoy hearing about other people’s passions. It was hard not to get enthusiastic too.

  “You have a guy back there?” Kylie asked after a bit, probing for the good stuff.

  Sarah shook her head. “Nothing serious,” she said. “A guy I see on and off, but we’re far from exclusive.”

  Kylie nodded appreciatively. “Hoping to get lucky at the wedding?”

  Sarah reddened slightly, but she gave a coy smile. “I’m not on the hunt if that’s what you mean. But if something were to happen naturally…” she trailed off.

  “Nice,” Kylie said. “What about you, Alice?”

  Mac’s green eyes flashed through my mind for a millisecond before I shoved them and the rest of his bulky, Irish self out of my mind. “Nope,” I said. “Maid of Honor. I have too much responsibility.”

  Kylie waved me off. “Come on. You did all the work before you got here. That’s the whole point of having a wedding at a resort. They will literally set everything up for you.”

  I shrugged, moving out of the way for a couple of young kids, running with boogie boards toward the beach. “You never know what’s going to happen. I gotta keep my eye on the prize, and that prize is peaceful marital bliss for Beck and Sam. Trouble could pop up anywhere, and I’m going to be ready for it.”

  “Babe, what you ‘gotta’ do is revenge-fuck Daniel out of your system. It’s just the natural order of things and resistance is only going to hurt you.”

  “I’m not revenge-fucking anyone,” I insisted. “I was the one who broke up with him. It’s not like I have something to prove.”

  “All I’m saying,” Kylie continued, oblivious, “is that the universe has served up a beef buffet in Sam’s friends and you’d be a fool to ignore it.”

&nbs
p; “Ew,” Sarah and I harmonized at the words ‘beef buffet’.

  “I suggest Henry,” she continued, ignoring us. “The things that man can do with his hands…” She kissed her fingers like remembering a particularly delicious meal.

  “Eh. He’s a little scrawny for me.” Mac’s dumb face kept leaning into frame and I wished we’d move on to a different topic.

  “Try shredded. He has an eight-pack. And come on, it wasn’t like Daniel was some bodybuilder,” she said, sounding a little annoyed that I dissed her conquest.

  “Hey if you’re so into Henry, you go after him,” I said. I nodded to Sarah. “Or introduce Sarah.”

  “Maybe I will,” Kylie said. “Introduce Sarah,” she clarified. “I’m going a different route this trip. Maybe Twain?”

  “Who’s Twain?” Sarah asked, looking between us.

  “It’s actually Twain Conrad,” I told her.

  Her eyes widened. “Wait, not Twain Conrad. The author? I literally read that series eighty times in high school.”

  “One and the same,” I said. “But try to keep an open mind meeting him, and don’t let his personality affect your memories of his books.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

  “I’ve never actually met him,” I admitted, thankful for the change in topic. “But Alice has told me stories…”

  I regaled the both of them with tales of excess (the time he had an actual tiger in his penthouse for his twenty-sixth birthday party) and of a wild, unpredictable personality (that same birthday when, after one of his Hollywood starlet guests worried over the danger of having a live tiger prowling the apartment, he fed it raw steaks dripping with blood from his own hands).

  “I’ll bet he’s a crazy lay,” Kylie said.

  “Is that all you can think about?” I asked, though I wouldn’t disagree. But before I could comment further, I got that urge, the one that comes way too frequently when drinking champagne.

  “I need to pee,” I groaned.

  “Just wait a minute and use the pool,” Kylie said. She pointed at a sign. “It’s just up there.”

  “Dude. Gross.”

  “Everyone does it.”

  “Yeah, but if I do it too then I have to acknowledge that fact,” I said. “No, I’m using the bathrooms like a civilized person. Don’t wait up.”

  I diverged from the path and headed toward a worker who was trimming the hedges.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Where’s the nearest bathroom?”

  “There’s one just down the path. But it’s a bit out of the way so look carefully or you’ll miss it.”

  I walked for almost ten minutes before realizing that I must have missed it. Reluctantly, I doubled back around, resolving to tell Kylie and Sarah that I’d found it and just hope they pumped a hell of a lot of chlorine into the water. But right before I rounded the bend that would reveal my friends, I noticed a small building tucked back in the hedges. That had to be it.

  I walked around it, finding the little woman in the dress, and pulled at the door. There was a slight resistance, one I later recognized as the door catching on a poorly-closed lock. Regrettably, in the moment, it didn’t occur to me that this closed door should stay that way, and I pulled harder, forcing the lock aside and revealing a scene so surprising, my body locked into place, mouth open, hand frozen in the act of opening the door.

  A dark-haired woman rode a man with her legs wrapped around his waist, his powerful arms holding her off the ground as he thrust into her. Her back was to me, but as she threw her head back in lust, she noticed the open door or maybe just my bug-eyed face as we made terrible, horrible eye contact.

  I only had a moment, not even a second, to take in the familiar face and discarded bleached-white power suit before Mariana gave a shriek and dived off the man like a Olympian on the dismount into an open bathroom stall.

  While, I would admit, it was nice to no longer be watching people actively bang, this left me in a position somehow even more exposed. Because now, like cowboys in an old western, I stood locked in a stand-off with an utterly surprised and completely naked Mac Walsh.

  What a way to start the week.

  3

  Mac

  In my defense, I’d gotten quite drunk on the plane.

  After Mason plopped his disapproving words in my lap and left me alone to join the fun, I cracked another bottle of scotch and got to work.

  When there was nothing else left for me, I could always count on Lady Liquor. It was a mindset I’d developed at the ripe age of ten, and, after building my own label, it’d turned out to be accurate in more ways than one. Unfortunately, like most women, she also carried the bite of regret, embarrassment, and potential loss of life or limb if you didn’t treat her with respect. In that regard, I did my best, though I wasn’t above admitting to a mistake or two along the road.

  Mexico Day One was looking like it might be one of those times.

  Honestly, I had no intention of banging the wedding planner, least of all in a women’s bathroom. But I also hadn’t anticipated how good she’d look — deeply tanned skin, thick black hair, and large dark eyes set off by bright white clothing that didn’t seem to have ever felt dirt’s breath on its purity. She’d greeted us as we’d stepped out of the limo (or, in my case, staggered).

  I kept control of myself though I was nursing a pretty heady drunk. Control was key in these situations. Control of the limbs, of the face, and, above all, of the mouth.

  I wore dark sunglasses so I didn’t have to worry about my eyes. That was my mistake. In focusing on keeping the others from realizing I had one foot in the bottle, I hadn’t realized that… Mary? Marissa? Something with an M. Anyway, I hadn’t realized she’d stopped talking and I was still staring at her, my mouth in a firm sober line, my boozy eyes hidden away.

  And when I realized I was staring? Well, that was when I noticed she was staring right back. The lingering glances, a slight bite of the lip, eyes roaming across my body down to my cock. Sam and the others were oblivious (though maybe not Mason, but if he wasn’t, he didn’t say anything) and talked with M-something as she led us to the elevators, discussing the amenities, the wedding, and everything Sam was getting out of the fat stack he was dropping here.

  The old boy was going all out for his wedding. Outside of the usual — the private beach and banquet hall for the afterparty, all the food and the open bar, the fireworks and decorations and cake — he was also flying and housing close to three hundred guests and giving them free reign of the resort for the weekend on his dime. He’d tried to get the Knights to agree to letting him cover everything for us too, but we’d steadfastly refused on the grounds that, if he tried, we’d have to kick him out of the club for being too poor after he covered our liquor bill, let alone our suites.

  The five of us had rented out the other rooms on the same floor as the girls’. Sam, fancy fecker that he was, had rented the penthouse just above us, giving our party complete control of the top two floors of the south tower.

  As we rode up, the girl, M-something, moved to stand slightly in front of me and, to my surprise (but not resistance), she reached a hand back and brushed my upper thigh with long fingernails, all while keeping a conversation with Henry about room service.

  I grinned. So my drunk goggles weren’t malfunctioning. I reached a hand out, the one nearest the wall, and ran a thumb firmly over the spot where her full ass met her leg. She didn’t stiffen or acknowledge that I’d touched her, but my cock was nearly there at the thought of what was coming later.

  In the hall, M-something pointed out each of our rooms to us and then said, “I’m going to show Mr. Callahan to his suite, but if you have any questions or needs, here’s my card. You can reach me at this number at any time.”

  At the word needs, her eyes flicked to mine, but quickly looked away. “Beck and her friends have arrived at the airport so they should be joining you shortly,” she added before she and Sam left in the elevator.

  �
��Pool then?” Henry asked us as the doors closed behind them. “We can wait for the girls there.”

  “I’ve got someone to meet,” Twain said quickly. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He jabbed the down button and a second pair of doors opened immediately. He darted inside and was gone before any of us could say a word.

  “Any bets on the next time we’ll see him?” Mason asked dryly.

  “He better at least make it to the wedding,” Keegan said. “But beyond that, no idea.”

  “My money says he’ll reappear for the rehearsal dinner, but he’ll be blackout,” Henry said. “And I’m not going to be the one to deal with him.” The others didn’t comment, probably thinking as I was — that we’d see about that in the moment.

  To move on from the hopeless mess that was Twain and onto a more immediate target, Henry turned to me. “You’ve been awfully quiet for a while there, Mac.”

  Shit. The encounter in the elevator and the mental effort to keep my dick from straining out of my suit pants had sobered me since the ride from the airport, but it looked like they were catching on regardless.

  When backed into a corner, I went on the aggressive, another habit learned in childhood. “And what the hell is it to ya?”

  Henry snorted. “I thought I saw you put away a bottle on the plane. Go lay down before Sam finds out you’re already trashed.”

  “I’m not trashed and I don’t give a feck what Sam thinks anyway.”

  Mason cleared his throat behind me, and I refocused on my incoming date with M-something. “I’m fine,” I said firmly. “Now which one is mine?” I asked, pointing down the hall.

  “Look at your key, idiot,” Keegan said, already walking away toward his room. “And I’m hitting the pool so some of you fuckers can join… or not. The more ladies for me.”

  “Isn’t your girl on her way?” Henry asked after him.

  Keegan grinned. “Yeah, but she doesn’t mind sharing.” He spread his massive arms wide, walking backwards. “There’s a lot of me to love, boys.”