Page 1 of Suddenly Tempted
Chapter 1
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DEVLIN
“Devlin! Devlin! Over here!”
Devlin Storm hadn’t even left the building and the shouts had already begun. He stepped out into the crisp, cold winter air, nodding his thanks to the doorman. A crowd of reporters stood beside the path, bundled up in ski jackets and furry hats but still shivering. A line of red cord stopped them from approaching him, as well as a burly security guard, but they all thrust their microphones his way.
“Any word from the conference?” yelled one woman.
“Where will you be on the rich list this year?” said another.
“Any celebrity scandals?” shouted a man.
“Sure,” he called back to the guy. “Me, like always.”
He turned away from them, pulling up the collar of his Brioni suit against the bracing wind that cut through the Royal Alpine luxury resort. The mountains were all around him, a ring of giant peaks so covered in snow that they were almost invisible against the grey sky. Patches of dark forest stood out here and there, along with the lines of the cable cars and ski lifts that carried people up from the resort to the runs. All in all, it looked pretty bleak — certainly not the kind of place you’d expect to pay £11,000 a night to stay in.
But this was one of the most exclusive resorts on the planet. Nestled in the foothills above one of Switzerland’s picture-postcard towns, you could barely walk three paces here without bumping into British royalty, American billionaires, or European bankers. Especially this weekend, with the annual APEX Club Retreat taking over the whole resort. Half of the world’s wealth had to be right here, shivering in the unseasonably cold February weather.
“Hey, Devlin,” called a voice behind him. He ignored it, thinking that one of the journalists had broken free to chase him. He heard his name again and turned back, a dark look on his face. When he saw who it was, the scowl turned into a smile.
“Blake? I didn’t think you were here this year?” he said, stopping and turning.
Blake Fielding, billionaire founder of social media site, Heartbook, jogged the last few feet, stopping beside Devlin and wrapping his arms around himself, bouncing up and down on his toes. Unlike most of the other billionaires in the resort, Blake wasn’t dressed up — he wore a woolly sweater and jeans, with a quaint little bobble hat on his head — but that was his thing. Preppy and approachable.
“Yeah,” Blake replied, his teeth chattering. “I wasn’t going to be here, but my board practically forced me out of the building. Told me I needed a holiday and this retreat’s the only place I can properly wind down. Can’t argue with the board now, can we?”
Devlin laughed.
“They wield the real power,” he said.
“That’s the truth,” Blake agreed. “How are you?”
Devlin shrugged. The last thing he wanted to do was start talking about how his life was going. Not now. Despite Blake being the type of friend who would listen without judging. No. Devlin always let the newspapers do the talking for him, and they tended to stick to the same old story: Devlin Anderson Storm, twenty-nine, self-made billionaire, designer whose clothing line and retail empire stretched around the globe. Devlin Storm, the bad boy, who dated models and actresses and left a string of weeping women in his wake. Devlin Storm, the man that men wanted to be, that women wanted to be with, and whose arrogance was almost as legendary as his good looks.
“Oh, you know, same old, same old,” he replied, grinning. “Rich, famous, and as handsome as ever.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Blake, slapping him on the shoulder. “Listen, a few of the gang are hitting the lodge. Nate, Jackson, Christian, all the old faces. You want to join us?”
The APEX Club was exclusive, and his close circle of friends even more so. The kind of close-knit community where Devlin could shuck off the skin that had thickened around him and be amongst friends who weren’t scared to bring him down a peg or two. All the members knew what it was like to be able to buy whatever their hearts desired, because one of the prerequisites was to have a bank balance with at least nine zeros. They all knew what having that kind of money meant in real life too. The assumptions, the prejudice, the loneliness.
“Count me in,” he nodded, stomach twisting at what else the weekend held in store for him. A drink or three first would do him good.
They hustled their way through the crowds and into the warmth of the lodge. Devlin felt his face tighten at the change in temperature and made a mental note to book an oxygen facial as soon as he landed back at home.
“That’s a chiselled jawline I’d recognise even after too many Sapporo,” a voice cut in from the other end of the rich mahogany bar. “Devlin Storm, as I live and breathe.”
Devlin smiled at the man with tousled brown hair and an empire of sweet stores. “Jackson Brodie, youlooklike a man who’s had too many Sapporo.”
Jackson pulled Devlin in for a hug, hitting his back with the force of someone who’d drunk so many beers he’d forgotten how strong he was. Luckily, Devlin’s back could take it.
“I’m getting in a round, what’ll it be?” Jackson asked, forearms resting on the bar.
Devlin laughed. “You’re getting in a round at a free bar? That’s good of you.”
