Page 53 of The Playboy

What I needed to do instead was give my full attention to school and the few months I had left.

I needed to focus on my job.

And I needed to plan for the positions I was going to apply for the moment I graduated.

A career that could afford me an actual bedroom with a bed I didn’t have to blow up, inside an apartment that had rooms and doors rather than the efficiency we all shared.

But there was no way I was telling Macon any of this. He was quick with words, the smoothest talker I’d ever met. He’d have an immediate rebuttal to try to make me believe that our differences were positive.

Except they weren’t.

Opposites were one thing, but Macon and I were on separate planets that didn’t even revolve around the same sun.

Still, I had questions regarding some of the things I’d learned about him. Questions that really shouldn’t matter, but my brain just wouldn’t let them go.

So, before I answered him about breakfast, I said, “Why are you on the island? I know you said work, but what kind of work?”

His fingers slid into my hair, moving the strands off my face. “My family’s in the hospitality industry. I’m here to manage the build-out of a new hotel.”

A new hotel?

“You’re not talking about the Spade Hotel, are you?”

If Macon was staying on the South Shore of the island, I had to assume the hotel he was building was in this area since that was the only one currently under construction.

It was rumored that it would be the most upscale resort on Kauai, and the brand alone and their loyal client base would bring in a slew of new tourists. That also meant it would be taking business away from the other hotels, especially the one we were in now.

Everyone had been talking about it.

“Yes, that’s the one,” he said.

My heart began to pound as I connected the other piece of information he’d dropped.

“You said you’re related to the Spades?” I held my breath, waiting for the confirmation that we weren’t just planets, but universes apart.

“I am a Spade, Brooklyn.” He smiled. “It’s my last name.”

Macon Spade.

Oh fuck.

“So, you’re the owner’s son?” I didn’t know why I needed the clarification or why I was still digging, but the questions wouldn’t stop swirling in my head.

“My father and his brother, Walter, started the brand. Dad retired, which leaves Walter—my uncle—his daughter, my two brothers, and me running the whole show.”

The whole show was a company worth billions.

An amount that instantly made me sweat.

From our first meeting, I had known Macon had money. It wasn’t just a sense I had based on his clothing and watch. It was a fact I’d felt in my gut.

But Spade money?

That was a league I couldn’t even wrap my head around.

A level that made me extremely uncomfortable as I lay naked in bed with him.

I’d assumed he was wealthy—I’d even called him moneybags.

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