Page 8 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
“What possessed you to bring Nicki along on your spring vacation?”
River and I went way back. To our early Navy days. To our shared deployments when we barely got out alive. To some fucked-up nights when we shared weapons, alcohol, and women because we didn’t know how to deal with our issues. Whether it was PTSD or something else.
“I didn’t,” I hissed. “Winston let her on board because he’s an idiot and my father had her flown over so she’d parade in front of me in hopes I’d fall for her charm.”
“And onto her ass,” River snickered. “She does have a sweet ass, but God the moment she opens her mouth, you realize her ass isn’t worth the hassle.”
Wasn’t that the fucking truth.
“Are you up for meeting Winston and me tonight?” I changed subjects. “Or are you on your way back to Portugal?”
“No, I’m still here. Probably for a week or so. Where do you want to meet?”
“Le Bar Américain.”
“Seriously?” The surprise in his voice was evident. “Isn’t that more of a hookup scene?”
I chuckled. “Are you in a committed relationship I don’t know about?”
“Relationships are not my thing,” he noted in a tone drier than gin.
“Ditto,” I retorted, knowing he’d understand exactly who I was referring to. It would take an extraordinary circumstance for me to commit to a relationship. Especially with someone as greedy, selfish, and tactless as Nicki.
Shifting away from the topic of the opposite sex, we discussed an acquisition I was working on, aside from the jewelry business. It was a security company with an established presence in Europe, and River was an expert in the area since he owned one himself alongside our buddies from the service. Just like me, River, Astor, and Darius had built their own empire. Kian… well, he came from an empire. A Brazilian cartel empire.
As far as my empire, my mother’s inheritance from her mafia princess background gave me a leg up when starting up my businesses. Father was only good at spending money and schmoozing with questionable characters. He always relied on me to clean up his messes, and if I wasn’t available, he moved down to the next son in the hierarchy, like we were his personal PR cleanup crew.
At least my war buddies—Astor, Darius, and River—didn’t have to contend with bullshit like that. I wasn’t sure about Kian whom I’d only met a few years ago. He kept his familial relations to himself.
We concluded the conversation by agreeing on a time to meet at Le Bar Américain and hung up.
Standing from my desk, I headed to the master bedroom at the front of my yacht. Once inside, I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower. The water was cool and felt good against my skin. The injection had soothed the pain, and I couldn’t help wanting those hands on my back again.
That soothing, soft touch.
My cock instantly grew hard.Fuck!If only thinking about her had my shaft stirring to life, I didn’t want to imagine what touching her would do.
I should pretend I never met her and carry on. Common sense urged me to do this. I just didn’t think I had the self-control.
I finished showering and dressed in something casual.Maybe it’ll make me look younger,I thought wryly.
I put on tailored chinos and a lightweight linen shirt by Vitale Barberis Cononico so I’d fit in with the visitors of the Riviera who tended to just lounge around their pools—or their yachts—wasting the day away. My brother was already standing in the main salon, wearing his white Bermuda shorts and a black T-shirt, finishing the look off with a blazer and straw fedora. He had no issues fitting into the leisurely life of the French Riviera. It was his sole purpose in life—sex, beach, alcohol, food—and not necessarily in that order.
He yawned, probably still fighting his hangover. The sun had started to dip below the horizon, yet my brother acted like it was morning.
I shook my head. “You ready?”
“Born ready,” Winston muttered. “Let’s go.”
It didn’t take us long to get there. As we pulled up in front of the all-glass building, a line snaking around the bar came into view. It was connected to the Riviera Hotel in the back. The place attracted the most exclusive guests from around the world.
I jumped out of my red Ferrari, River not far behind in his black Porsche. It was what I loved about my superyacht. It stored my car.
I handed the valet the keys to my car. “Have it parked up front,” I instructed in French, handing the guy five hundred euros. By the looks of it, River was doing the same thing.
“Man, are you sure this is a good idea?” River grumbled. He’d opted for deep green chinos and a black T-shirt with combat boots. “This is like a hotspot for the screamers.”
Music pumped. Girls screamed. Some men did too. Or maybe they were just boys. Trust-fund pricks that hadn’t earned a cent in their entire life. Their whole purpose was to live it up and spend their family money.
