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

by Sloane Hunter

  “Helllllloooo,” a chorus of voices greeted us. I watched their faces instead of looking in. Every emotion ran the gauntlet as they took in the room I had the resort set up for us. Music, rotating colored lights, an actual pole and seven girls in thongs and pasties to adorn it. They swarmed the door, pulling us in and exclaiming how excited they were to show us a good time.

  Hands roamed my body, the attention from a large-breasted girl wearing mostly glitter and a neon-red wig. I slipped nimbly out of her grasp and directed her at Sam. This night wasn’t about me.

  The guys were still getting over the surprise, suddenly caught in a sensory overload as lights flashed and music blared and breasts came from every angle like mortar fire. They were being pushed around by these rather aggressive strippers and positioned around the pole where one was already doing gymnastics fully naked.

  Henry and Keegan were sobering up, looking ecstatic. They were each shoved into chairs, and two girls started to gyrate against them to the music.

  Mason, of course, was on the opposite end of the spectrum. He liked strippers; we’d been to enough clubs as a group for me to ever think otherwise. But I knew that he recognized my plan and disagreed with it. He was in a similar position as the other guys, but as a stripper danced against him, I could see he was stiff and wearing that pinched looked that I hated. Screw him. There was only one person who mattered tonight and he was on the couch getting the full attention of three of Mexico’s Finest.

  Sam was a harder read than the others. He looked a little shell-shocked, not quite believing his eyes. One stripper sat on either side of him. They ran their hands through his hair, up his sides, down his legs, skillfully touching every part that wasn’t getting hit by the firm ass of the one giving him a lap dance.

  The strippers were perfect, obvious professionals and hot as hell. As I watched Sam’s tipsy face work to take it all in, I couldn’t help but congratulate myself already. The plan was perfect. Bring together hot girls, good liquor, and the Knights and remind Sam how much fun we can have with just the five of us (and Twain). Put it in his mind that any possibility of this glorious scene happening again would disappear from his life in a few days.

  I stood, smirking against a pillar, sipping from the Johnnie Walker, and watching the girl on the pole. I’d just popped open the bag of gummy bears when suddenly Sam’s hand was on my shirt, pulling me around.

  “What the hell is this?” he demanded. My mood dropped. From the look on his face, I’d read the situation very, very incorrectly. He was angry, not happy. Not happy at all. The strippers he’d abandoned on the couch had moved on to Keegan, Henry, and Mason.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, talking loudly over the music. “It’s a party.” Sam was no stranger to strippers. We’d had nights like this a thousand and one times back in New York.

  “Mac, I’m getting married. In five days!”

  “So? You’re not married now.” I slapped him on the back, trying to jump-start some life into him. “Come on, your Bachelor party isn’t even on yet. Were you not going to have strippers there?” I asked sarcastically.

  “That’s different,” he insisted. “One ceremonial stripper at my Bachelor party — that Beck knows about — is very different from— from this!” He waved his hand at the scene.

  “Are you serious?” I asked. “So, what? Beck needs to know everything you do now? Is that just how it’s going to be? Do you want that?”

  His face hardened. He didn’t look drunk at all anymore. “I’m getting married,” he repeated slowly with the exaggerated patience of someone talking to a mental patient.

  “That doesn’t mean you have to get boring.”

  Sam squeezed his eyes shut. “Dude, what is your problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem!” I insisted. “I thought it’d be nice to have a party. Sue me. I didn’t know. Christ.”

  He shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his hand. “We need to get these girls out of here before the girls, our girls, are back in the hall.” He turned. “All right!” he shouted over the music. “Shut it down. You ladies have to get out of here.”

  “Awwww,” the girls chorused, including the one who was still spinning fully nude around the pole, crotch to the wind, like she was stuck on a mechanical track.

  “Do they have to?” Henry asked around the two girls managing to share his lap.

  “The girls will be down on the beach for a while,” added Keegan.

  “I don’t care! The girls can never find out—”

  Just as the words were leaving his mouth, two things happened simultaneously. The first was that the red-haired stripper, listening to Sam, flipped the music off. The second was that, as the last EDM note faded to silence, the door opened. And, in the doorway, were the girls.

  There was a beat of stunned silence from everyone on both sides. Even the girl on the pole kept going around, frozen, eyes wide and looking out between her legs with every rotation.

  Then Sam lunged forward saying, “Beck, it’s not what it looks like.”

  “Ditto,” said Keegan to Jules, peering around the large breasts of the stripper straddling him.

  And after that it was just general chaos. Beck turned, pushing through her friends, and ran, Sam chasing after her.

  The strippers started grabbing their things and trying to flee as Jules pushed her way in and started hitting Keegan with her purse and yelling at him.

  Sarah waded through the people supporting a fabulously drunk Kylie, not seeming to give any of it a second glance as she led her to the bathroom.

  In fact, the only angry one, other than the girlfriends, seemed to be Alice.

  She stormed over to me. “What the hell, Mac?” she said. “I thought you weren’t going to do anything!”

  I was already feeling pretty lousy about how it all went down (why do these things always go better in my head?) and wasn’t in the mood to be lectured by a chick.

  “I just threw a party. It’s not my fault you barged in. And why the fuck is Kylie puking in my bathroom?”

  An odd look crossed her face. “Are you telling me…” She shook her head. “No, tell me you’re not so stupid that this was unintentional?”

  “What was?” I asked.

  “What’s your room number?”

  “Um…”

  “I’ll give you a hint,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s the one not on the door to this room.”

  Oh. She laughed bitterly at the look on my face. “This is our room. You took my keycard off the table and left your own. So yeah, nice going. If this is what ‘not getting involved’ looks like, then I’d hate to see you actively trying to break them up.”

  I didn’t have a response, for once. She left out to the hallway, presumably to find Beck.

  I sank onto the couch with Mason and Henry. The strippers were gone, the room in shambles. Mason had a hand over his eyes. Henry’s expression could only be described as wonder — at the situation and probably at my own stupidity. He’d picked up the Johnnie Walker and was drinking it straight from the bottle.

  “Well,” I said. “That wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

  Henry wordlessly passed me the scotch and the open bag of gummy bears.

  8

  Alice

  The rest of the evening was spent sweeping glitter off every surface before I could sit down and listening to Jules and Keegan fight in Jules’ bedroom. I wasn’t sure why they didn’t just take it to Keegan’s end of the hall, where they’d have an entire suite to duke it out across.

  They’d also, more importantly, get a bit of privacy, though with every shouted insult, it was clear they didn’t really care if we heard them or not. Our proximity in the living room didn’t stop Jules from accusing Keegan of giving her crabs (something he adamantly denied) or of him asking how many of his teammates she’d fucked before she got to him.

  A slightly-more-sober Kylie, Sarah, and I sat side-by-side on the couch, trying not to listen and a
lso trying not to make eye contact with each other. It became much more difficult once the fighting abruptly ceased and was replaced with the undeniable sounds of frantic foreplay. That was when the three of us fled the living room just as the moaning began and hid in Kylie’s room on the opposite end of the suite.

  Beck never came back to the room. I’d tried to find her after I yelled at Mac, but she was nowhere to be found. I texted her asking if everything was all right and eventually she replied that they’d figured it out, but they were going to bed, together in Sam’s penthouse. At least one disaster was avoided. The wedding was still on, and there hopefully wouldn’t be any long-term fallout from Mac’s idiotic decision to bring a host of strippers into our living room.

  The sight would stay with me until my dying day, I was sure of it. Sam frozen, standing in front of the couch with glitter swiped across his face and clothes. Six big-breasted strippers crawling over every inch of Mason, Keegan, and Henry. One going round and round the pole, completely naked. The sight of all of them, staring in horror at the door just as the music cut out and seeing that we’d arrived, late for the party but there all the same.

  The ensuing chaos had been something to behold as bare titties bounced in fear, their owners fleeing before any angry girl decided to put the beatdown on them. Jules going in on Keegan, the slight model backing up the six foot six pro athlete with a palpable rage. Kylie one step from throwing up all over herself and Henry laughing hysterically.

  And Mac! The culprit. I’d known it immediately. I was justified, completely justified. I should have been more suspicious when he’d dragged all the guys back up to the room early. But somehow I’d slipped up. I’d wrongly assumed that even an idiot like Mac Walsh spaced each potentially wedding-destroying mistake out to one a day. First Mariana (who I still hadn’t seen nor was looking forward to seeing) and now a collection of glitter-spattered professional ‘dancers’.

  I wondered how he’d managed to get ahold of them, but quickly realized that a group of billionaires could probably get just about anything delivered short notice, not just in Mexico but anywhere.

  No, the better question was why. Why was Mac seemingly so intent on destroying Beck and Sam’s happily ever after, and what would be his next move to do so? I wasn’t sure, thinking late into the night as I lay in my bed, long after Keegan and Jules’ noise had died to snores. It was becoming apparent that Mac was a problem going ignored. Left unchecked, who knew when he’d strike the fatal blow to the wedding?

  One thing was for certain, I thought as I drifted off. I was going to be there to prevent it when he tried.

  The next morning we gathered at the breakfast buffet, a large room filled with spotless tablecloths and gorgeous views of the ocean. Beck and Sam sat smiling and speaking quietly to each other while Keegan and Jules also seemed to have made up, popping fruit into each other’s mouths in a startlingly obnoxious display of affection.

  Despite his major slip-up the previous evening, Mac didn’t seem anywhere near as ashamed as he should have been. I half-expected him to not even show his face this morning. Yet there he was, chatting with Mason and Henry at an adjacent table, eating bacon and fruit with his hands.

  “What’s on the docket for today?” I asked, sitting with my back to Mac at the couple’s table. It didn’t matter at all that Mac seemed oblivious to his crimes. That just meant I’d have to be extra vigilant for his next mistake.

  “Well,” Beck said, “we’ve got appointments for a bunch of couples activities over the day.”

  I heard Mac scoff behind me, but I ignored him.

  “Mac and I are going to play some tennis after we finish eating,” Keegan offered.

  “Oh really,” I said, pretending like that was something I was interested in. “I think I’ll come along.”

  “Um, no,” Mac said. He was behind me, but I could tell from his voice that he’d turned in his chair. “It’s just going to be Keegan and me.”

  I shrugged, sipping my juice without turning. “I guess I’ll watch then. I hope you don’t mind.” I turned over my shoulder and gave him a sickeningly sweet smile that was not returned. His face was set, hard.

  “Well, actually,” he started, “I do mi—”

  “Ooo tennis sounds fun,” Jules said, cutting him off mid-sentence. I raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to the couples.

  “It does, doesn’t it? You want to come watch with me?”

  Keegan snapped his fingers. “Or better yet, let’s play doubles.”

  Jules rubbed her shoulder against his and they grinned at each other. I couldn’t help but smile at the rage wafting from the Irish bastard behind me.

  I turned around again, re-matching his eye contact. They were glowering, stunning green orbs flickering with fire. My own narrowed. If you’re mad now, just you wait. I’m going to be on your ass at every turn, they said.

  Fucking bring it, his replied.

  If he thought I wasn’t serious, he’d see. This wedding was going to be fucking perfect, even if I died trying.

  Our late breakfast dragged past noon as we made light conversation, swapped hangover remedies and discussed our plans for the day. By one, everyone started down their separate paths.

  I headed out to the hall to wait for Keegan, Jules, and Mac to finish up. I had no intention of Mac slipping out without me. Beck and Sam left with me, but before they headed to the spa, Beck said to Sam, “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

  “You sure?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

  “Of course,” she said, lifting on her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “See you soon.”

  Once he was gone, she turned to me. “You don’t have to do this,” she said.

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “Watch Mac. I get what you’re doing, but seriously, don’t worry about it. He made a mistake. Sam made sure he’s not going to do anything again.” Beck’s large blue eyes searched my face. “He’s not a bad guy, Alice. You just haven’t known him long enough.”

  Yeah, that’s what they all say. I got that Beck just wanted me to enjoy the week, but she also didn’t know the full story. Would she be as quick to dismiss Mac’s capacity for destruction if she knew about the ‘Mariana incident’?

  “Seriously, Beck,” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders. “I don’t mind doing a little bit of babysitting if it means there aren’t any more surprises.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t mind,” I repeated. “Enjoy your day. This week isn’t about me or Mac. It’s about you and Sam. Let me run Mission Control and just focus on how it’s going to feel to walk down that aisle.”

  Beck’s expression was unreadable, but then she nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said. She turned away, going after Sam, but then looked back at me. A troubled expression was on her face.

  “Alice?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “I—” She paused and the expression faded. “Never mind. It’s nothing. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “See you then.”

  “Good luck with tennis,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

  Good luck indeed. On the walk down, Mac strode ahead with Keegan, ignoring the both of us and leaving me to walk side-by-side with Jules. I searched for topics of conversation to approach, but all I could think about were the sounds of their late night fight-n-fuck.

  Thankfully, she broached the conversation first. “So what’s your deal, Alice?” she asked as we walked down the palm-lined path.

  My deal? What is my deal? “Um. I’m in design,” I tried. “I used to work for Sam until I got my current gig. I basically introduced—”

  “No, no,” she said, cutting me off. “I mean, like, are you single, dating?”

  Good question. I barely knew myself. My relationship with Daniel had been a low point. What had started as something purely physical had turned into close to a year of commitment. I’d known Daniel was a douche from the start, but at the time it was bearable s
imply because the alternative was starting to drain me.

  After Harrison (my ex pre-Daniel) and I had ended things, I’d followed all the requisite steps. I was mad. I cried. I ate ice cream and watched a romance movie or two. I told myself that I’d stay single for a while, work on me.

  That had lasted for a little bit. I ran in the mornings. I started drinking less and eating better. I tried to read Anna Karenina (and then settled for watching the movie).

  But it wasn’t long before that need returned. It wasn’t a sexual one (or, at least, not entirely), rather a longing for companionship, for someone that I could come home to, a partner to lean on and to be leaned on by. Someone I could fantasize about spending the rest of my life with.

  So I returned to the dating scene and quickly met Daniel. He was supposed to be a happy medium. He’d fix parts of that awful loneliness, and his complete lack of most admirable qualities would keep me from ever getting too attached.

  Yeah, that’d worked out great.

  One morning after eleven months of official dating, I’d woken up, Daniel snoring next to me, and wondered how he’d propose. It was a casual thought followed immediately by a shot of dread. Daniel was not someone I wanted to marry. We were nothing alike, and I barely even enjoyed his company anymore. So then why the hell was I thinking about marrying him?

  The answer hadn’t taken long. It was a pattern reflected in my past. I scooped up the first guy that came along who didn’t have a serious criminal history and projected all my wishes on him, no matter what he was actually like.

  It was like coming to clarity on the bathroom floor of a crack house. I had a problem, and I needed to address it before I threw away anymore years of my youth on these shitty, self-absorbed guys.

  I broke up with Daniel later that day, had him out of my apartment in two. But flushing the drugs was the easy part. Now I had to stay clean. And faced with a daunting horizon of lonely nights, shitty dates, and anxiety about the future, I almost wanted to give Daniel another go.