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

by Sloane Hunter

  I clenched my jaw and then reached down, took a handful of yellow chips and piled them on a number without bothering to look at it. Mac’s eyes stayed hard, not leaving mine, but his mouth tipped into a smile. I heard the ball bounce and come to a rest.

  “Nine red.”

  “Oops,” I said flatly.

  Mac broke eye contact to glance at the dealer. I followed his gaze and noticed, to my horror, that I’d won. The dealer scraped in the stack of yellow chips and reached into his tray for light blue ones, five of which he passed to Mac.

  “How much are those worth?” I demanded.

  The slight smile widened. “The yellow are a grand apiece. These blue babies are fifty.”

  Mac nodded to the dealer. “Put ‘em on my account. I’m done for now.” Then he turned and walked away from the table without a second glance my way, a smirk cracking his handsome face.

  I glowered after him. At fifty grand a chip, I could pay off my student loans and pay my rent for the next five years. Not that I’d ever see a penny of it.

  I cursed myself and Mac equally as I stalked after him. Why had I come over there? It had been part animalistic draw and part legitimate desire to patch up our rocky relationship before the week started off on a bad foot.

  I was still going to make the attempt, even if Mac insisted on being an ass at every turn.

  “Hey,” I called after him, storming in his wake.

  He didn’t stop, but I was faster, catching up and grabbing his thick arm to turn him around. “Listen up,” I demanded, finger in his face. “Obviously you’re intent on being a bastard all week, but if we could just get along, for Sam and Beck’s sake, that would be fantastic. I’ll forget about everything I… saw today. And you. Could you just try not to be a dick?”

  His face was impassive. Then he mockingly rested his chin on his hand. “Hmmm… Let me think. No.”

  “Is that really too much to ask?” I asked. “Can’t you just pull yourself together for four days and pretend to be happy for them? Were you raised in a barn?”

  “A slum actually,” he said casually. “And I’m not a liar, which is what you’re asking me to do. Lie. So you’ll excuse me if I decline.”

  I called his bluff. “So you’ve told Sam already what you think of his marriage?”

  Finally, he hesitated. “He needs to find out for himself,” Mac said. “But I’ll be there for him when he does.”

  “And what if he doesn’t?”

  Mac’s face hardened. “He will.”

  “I don’t think he will.”

  “Well then you’re as stupid as the rest of them.”

  “You did not just call me—”

  “Hey lovebirds!” Kylie’s voice cracked through the casino and Mac and I, practically nose-to-nose at this point, turned to see our friends gathered and waiting.

  “Stop fighting,” my friend said with a teasing grin, “and get your asses in gear. I’m ready to eat.”

  I felt myself redden at getting caught doing exactly what I didn’t want Beck to see. No more fighting with Mac. No more letting him get me riled up. I joined the group without another word.

  But as we were seated and prepared to dig in, a lingering anxiety pounded in my chest at Mac’s words. After months of living and breathing this wedding, I thought I’d prepared myself for everything. I hadn’t counted on a snake in the grass.

  He claimed he wasn’t going to do any outright damage to the wedding, but could Mac Walsh really be trusted?

  7

  Mac

  Alice had apparently decided that the best option was to just ignore me. Many women in the past had tried this and they’d all found the same thing: it was much easier said than done. But Alice seemed to be making a valiant effort of it as, for the better part of the evening, she didn’t speak to me at all. Occasionally I noticed her watching me before quickly turning away to join a conversation, but otherwise, radio silence.

  That was perfectly fine by me. For the first time since we’d landed in Mexico (and forgetting the brief initial period in that women’s bathroom), I was actually starting to enjoy myself. The restaurant knew what they were doing when it came to steak and I had a thick porterhouse, sizzling in butter with a loaded potato and two glasses of whiskey.

  Our group split into conversations and I found myself with Sam to my right and Henry and Mason across from me. Sure, Keegan was down two seats with his girl (typical) and Twain was still missing in action (again, typical), but if I managed to ignore the girls, it almost felt like a night back at the Tempest, eating and drinking and making plans for the evening.

  Sam was in a great mood, smiling and laughing. He was throwing back the whiskeys at a pretty steady pace as well, but his eyes were bright and clear. We talked about old memories and plans for the future.

  But, of course, eventually one of them had to bring the mood down.

  “The name Steve Jordan mean anything to you?” Henry asked, pushing his plate back and relaxing back into the booth.

  “Should it?” Mason asked, swirling his glass of bourbon.

  “He’s a young guy, twenty-nine or thirty. He’s been a big name in tech for a while now. But his company is going public in a few weeks and do you want to guess what that means?”

  I waved him off. “Screw him. We have enough members.”

  “There isn’t a cap to how many are allowed in the club,” Mason, the traitor, noted.

  “But even if there were,” Henry said with a grin down the table, “now that Sam’s choosing the ladies over the brotherhood, we have a spot to fill.”

  “Oh bullshit,” Sam said, laughing. “If I’m out than so is Keegan,” he said nodding down to where our friend sat with his arm around Jules.

  My mood threatened to dip. Mason glanced at me, noticed my expression, and changed the subject. “Should we pick up the check?”

  I nodded. “I got it,” I said. Before Sam could protest, I added loudly, “I just won three hundred and fifty grand at the wheel. I’ll charge it to my account.”

  At my words, Alice jerked her head around to glare at me from the end of the table. I winked and mouthed thanks for the meal, love. Whether the words were lost in translation or not didn’t matter; the meaning was clear.

  Her lips pinched in a pout and she looked pointedly away, her slender arms crossing just beneath her breasts. I idly pictured what they might look like beneath that red shirt. She really was something to look at. Too bad we didn’t have a single thing in common.

  My vision blurred as I looked and I snapped it back into focus. It seemed I was starting to feel the effects of the day drinking, the casino drinking, and now the dinner drinking. Probably would be a good idea to slow down before I did something inadvisable.

  By the time we were finished in the steak house, it was fast approaching ten o’clock and we decided that now was as good a time as any to check out the Sunset Lagoon and the promised beach party.

  Somehow, on the walk down, I found myself side-by-side with Sarah, Beck’s friend from the farmlands in Missou-rah or wherever the hell she came from. There was pretty much only one other person in the party that I’d rather not speak to at all, but Sarah didn’t seem to understand our fundamental differences and tried to strike up a conversation anyway.

  “Where are you from originally, Mac?” she asked brightly.

  She seemed like a nice enough girl, but I didn’t have much patience for stupid questions. “Where the feck do ya think I’m from,” I asked. It was said half in jest, but seriously, I knew my accent was as thick as Alice’s ex-boyfriend’s skull.

  Sarah checked me by rolling her eyes. “Well no shit. What part of Ireland are you from?”

  I snorted a laugh. Okay, maybe I’d misjudged her. Some people get fiery the more alcohol you pour into them. “All right, lass,” I said. (I was always at peak Irishness once the drunk started in.) “I’m from Dublin.”

  “Oh yeah? I’ve always wanted to visit. Did you like it there?”

  H
uh, let me think. Mum disappeared before I was out of nappies. Da a drunk (not much of a surprise there). House that was more a collection of tin walls held up by dirt and the piles of forgotten dreams and broken promises left to rot on the floor. Older sister bringing home boyfriends that wouldn’t hesitate to chuck bottles at my head. Drugs, cigarettes, and alcohol from adolescence onward. Yeah it was a right good time.

  Sarah’s question combined with the liquor in my blood to batter down the walls I kept solidly around my memories of youth. I’d come as far from those days as a man could possibly come. I had everything now; I had nothing then.

  Well, close to nothing. The only thing of value were my boys. They were the kids from the other broken homes in my neighborhood. We knew if we were going to have anyone it had to be blood brothers not kin. Sammy, Dan Boy, Squash, Charlie, Freddy Three Fingers. My best friends and brothers. Or were, anyway, until they dropped away one by one.

  Once upon a time, we shared everything. These days, I only knew the locations of the dead.

  “Yeah, it was fucking grand,” I muttered, picking up the pace so that I was walking ahead, by myself. I shouldn’t be pissed at Sarah. She didn’t know any better. But it wasn’t so much Sarah that I was angry at as it was Sammy and, by extension, Sam.

  Yeah, I saw the irony of Sam Callahan sharing a name with Sammy Dedric. Beyond that, up until recently, there wasn’t a single similarity between them.

  Sammy had grown up mean with addict parents, born to lose from day one. But he was a natural criminal and the leader of our small gang. We’d started small as schoolboys, shoplifting, tagging walls, breaking windows just for the hell of it. It wasn’t until high school that Sammy started setting his sights a little higher. Then suddenly the boys and I were boosting cars and knocking over stores every other night. I dropped out of school, not that anyone really noticed or cared, and became a full-time hooligan.

  Those years, despite the danger, were some of the best of my life. I’d found a family at last. Now that we had our own money for apartments and cars and liquor and women, the six of us spent all our time together, getting in trouble and somehow always getting back out. We weren’t much older than eighteen, but we felt like the kings of Ireland.

  And then Sammy got himself a girl. And while it hadn’t exactly been the end, it sure as hell was the beginning of it.

  I stewed for the rest of the walk, picking up the pace so that I got there ahead of the others.

  The pool and the beach had been transformed. A dance floor was laid out before a stage where a DJ spun electronic beats. There was no canopy up, the better to see the night sky. Because Tuzas, the city, was close by, there weren’t many stars, but the resort had compensated by stringing thousands of twinkling lights around. Larger colored lights pulsed with the music and the floor was crowded with dancers.

  Tables and chairs were set up off to the side, and I snagged one for the group that wasn’t too close to the speakers. I hated to shout to be understood, but, at the same time, I wasn’t much in the mood for talking. Thoughts of Sammy and his girl and the rest of them, so close to my memory all day, but kept just at arm’s length had flooded into my alcohol-weakened mind in full force.

  I needed another drink. I headed to a quieter section of the bar where there was an open stool.

  “Jameson,” I said to the bartender. I was turning to look over my shoulder, searching for my friends, when I noticed a very familiar-looking woman sitting directly to my left. It was the blonde from the tiki bar earlier, the one I was eying before the disaster with Mariana. She was staring right back at me with narrowed blue eyes.

  The one constant in my life would always be my luck.

  Before I could say anything, she turned her gaze to look pointedly ahead. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you,” she said.

  “And why is that?” I asked, taking my glass off the bar and sipping it. I waved for the bartender to refill the blonde’s cocktail.

  “It was hard not to take earlier as a shun,” she said, stirring her drink. Her tone implied that she didn’t much care. “Was there someone better waiting out there for you?”

  Yes. Though strangely, instead of picturing Mariana and the way she’d pulled me into the bathroom, all I saw was Alice, pushing open the door and standing there in that little teal bikini, face twisted in shock and anger. I firmly shoved Alice to the back of my mind and concentrated on the blonde.

  “I had obligations,” I said. Not exactly a lie. “It hurt me to leave without introducing myself.” Though that definitely was. “I’m Mac. Mac Walsh.”

  She took the hand I offered lightly. “Margot,” she said. Her voice was a sultry whisper and yet also completely audible over the music and the crowd.

  “A pleasure,” I said. “Now—”

  She looked sharply over my shoulder. “I apologize, dear,” she said, though she didn’t sound very sorry. “I must be going now.”

  I grinned. “Is this payback?” I asked.

  She smiled and somehow, to my drunk brain, it took away from her beauty rather than added to it. “Of course not, darling.” She leaned closer and whispered into my ear, “I’ll be seeing you.”

  Then she whirled on her heel and disappeared in the crowd. Well that was both strange and disappointing. But also good timing because almost as soon as Margot left, I saw Keegan towering over the crowd.

  I slid a tip to the bartender and headed to a table, waving so they could come over.

  I watched them as they approached. Sam walked hand-in-hand with Beck and when he looked at her, it was with all the love in the world. Maybe it was the thoughts of Sammy Dedric, maybe it had something to do with Margot, but suddenly it seemed very important that I act. I needed to do something to wake him up, remind him that there were a thousand girls in the world, remind him that his freedom was at risk and so was the sacred brotherhood of the Knights Tempest.

  “This is so cool!” Beck’s friend Kylie said, looking at the dance floor like she didn’t live in New York and see a thousand better options every Friday night.

  “Shots anyone?” That, of all people, was Sarah.

  The others paused a beat, but then agreed. Keegan and Jules went off to order them while the others put purses down and prepared for the dance floor.

  “This is good, isn’t it?” Henry said, plopping down in the chair next to me. He nodded out at the floor, populated by drunk tourists pretending to be professional dancers. “Almost as good as a strip club. I think that chick has her tit out.”

  I could always count on Henry to stay sane. I grinned at my friend and relaxed back into my chair. But something tugged at my mind, an idea, something Henry had said. When the picture became clear, my smile widened.

  That’s an idea. The drunken whisper filled by brain with the first solid plan I’d had since we touched down. It’s perfect because it’s subtle. Just enough to show Sam what he’s missing.

  I searched my pockets for my phone, pulling out the jumble of receipts and cash, my wallet and my keycard.

  “Watch it,” Alice muttered. She was in the process of taking everything out of her purse for some reason and our stuff threatened to mix.

  “You watch it,” I shot back, finally freeing my cell from the bottom of my pocket and dialing the number the concierge had discretely passed me when I’d checked in.

  “Hello?” a voice answered.

  I moved off so the others couldn’t hear me. I told him what I wanted and when.

  “Of course, sir,” he said. “May I ask your room number?”

  Shit. What was it again? I went back to the table and jostled through my stuff, grabbing my keycard. “Seven-oh-seven-nine,” I read to him.

  “Very good. Anything else for you?”

  “Add in a fifth of Johnnie Walker Black and a bag of gummy bears.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  I hung up and sat back in my chair. This was a fantastic plan.

  Three hours later, I rode the elevator up to our rooms wit
h Sam, Henry, Mason, and Keegan. It hadn’t been easy getting them to leave early and even less so getting them to leave without the girls. But after quite a bit of needling and the promise of a surprise, I’d managed to drag them away. Ironically, the plan was almost ruined by Sam, but Beck, of all people, managed to save the day by ushering him off, telling him to have fun and that she and the girls would be fine on their own. They had plenty to keep them occupied; at one AM, the party on the beach wasn’t even close to being over.

  “Goddamn, I love Mexico,” Henry said, leaning against the side of the elevator, his shirt untucked, brown hair looking like he’d just been through a spin cycle. “This better be good, Mac, because I was about two minutes from coming up here with that blonde chick.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Just trust me. You’re not gonna regret it.”

  I leaned against the elevator wall myself, unsteady on my feet, feeling that warm buzz of alcohol and confidence. And anticipation. Because this was going to be a night that went down as legend for the Knights. I’d go in the history books as a savior. Eventually.

  I had to prepare for the fallout of the following days. Tonight I was planting a seed of doubt in Sam’s mind and it would grow quickly, vines twisting up the channels of his brain. I needed to bring my A game, be alert, prepared to water the fear when it took root and be there for him when this entire charade fell apart. He was going to need me by his side.

  We poured out of the elevator and into the hallway.

  “What room is yours?” Keegan asked thickly. He, Jules, Kylie, and Sarah had been doing shots all night and, of the five of us, he was the one who looked the closest to passing out. Which was too bad because he could take a lot away from this lesson as well.

  That was okay though. It wouldn’t be an issue to teach it again back in New York.

  I dug in my pocket for the key and pulled it out, following the numbers until we reached my door. I swiped it and turned to them. “This is for you, boys,” I said. Then I knocked briefly on the door and pushed it open.