Deepest Desire_A Billionaire Bad Boy Novel

by Weston Parker

  Meek was the one person I trusted more than anyone else. Maybe his words held more truth than I was giving them credit for. I was extremely wealthy, and that alone would be a hard thing to navigate if emotions came into play. How could I know if someone loved me for me or just for my money?

  Maybe Meek was right. Maybe love wasn’t worth all the turmoil and risk and loss. I was a businessman. I had other pursuits to focus my energy on. It had worked well for me up until this point. Why should I expect it to change?

  I finished my drink and leaned back in the chair. “You are an enigma, Meek, truly. But I’m glad I have you around. I need someone to tell me how it is, and you never fail to disappoint.”

  Meek raised his glass to mine. “Cheers to that.”

  We both sipped our rum and cokes and watched the monitors. While Meek was probably watching for someone counting cards, I was watching the smiling faces of my guests. This was my favorite seat in the house.

  “Hey,” Meek said. “If Cameron gets a raise, I want one too. Just saying.”

  “Consider it done, my friend,” I said, unable not to smile. “Consider it done.”

  Chapter 4

  Skylar

  I poured the boiling water over the chamomile teabag and inhaled the citrus infused steam. This was my favorite part of the evening. The day was done, and I could finally sit with my book and wind down with a hot cup of tea.

  I had already lit the half dozen candles in my living room, and as I made my way slowly to the sofa, tea sloshing gently in my floral-patterned mug, my doorbell rang. I sighed and put the tea down on a coaster on my coffee table, feeling already that my alone time had been swept out from under me. Then I went to the front door of my apartment, peered through the peephole, and saw my sister standing there, grinning like a fool.

  “Let me in!” Renee called, ringing the doorbell again. “I have something to show you!”

  I opened the door, and she hurried inside, kicking off her rhinestone studded ankle boots and pulling her purse down from her shoulder. She rummaged inside it and withdrew a bunch of chaotically folded papers. “I present to you, your first vacation ever,” she said proudly, stuffing the papers into my hands.

  “Can we sit, and I’ll look through it all?” I asked. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Of course!” Renee cried, grabbing my wrist and dragging me into my own living room. She spotted my tea and made pleading eyes at me.

  After pouring her a mug, we finally sat down on the sofa together. I unfolded all the papers in my lap and flattened them out.

  A picture of a giant obelisk lay before me. “What the heck is this?” I asked my sister, flipping through more pages. I started reading information aloud. “The Citrine. The newest and highest rated hotel to book your accommodations for your stay in Las Vegas, Nevada.” I looked up at Renee. “Vegas?”

  Renee nodded and clasped her mug of piping tea in her hands. “Yeah, what do you think?”

  I thought Vegas was way too much for my blood. I got anxiety using public restrooms. How was I supposed to navigate one of the most densely populated cities in America? “I think it’s a bit loud.”

  “Loud?” Renee arched an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. You know I’m a low-key kind of person. There wasn’t somewhere else that was maybe a little more my speed?”

  “Your speed?” Renee asked. “Sky, if I chose something that was your speed, we’d be going to Florida to visit one of the many popular senior homes or retirement communities. You need to live a little. It’s just one week. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but I think you need to push yourself out of your comfort zone just a little bit.”

  “You sound like Mom,” I said, recalling the way our mother used to tell me I needed to take more risks. What mother encouraged their daughter to do such a thing? Mine only did so because everything I did was premeditated, down to the last second. Every decision was crucial, and I considered as many variables and outcomes as I could. I was a very careful, deliberate person, and my mother truly believed that life would pass me by if I didn’t change things up every now and then.

  “Mom was right,” Renee said. “She knew what was good for you. We’re going. There are no excuses that can get you out of this one. I already called your boss, and you have next week off. We leave at noon on Monday.”

  Everything felt like it was happening so fast. I tried to formulate words, but nothing came.

  “And I have to tell you, Nikki is coming, too,” Renee said.

  “Nikki?” I groaned, falling into the back of the couch.

  Nikki was one of my least favorite people. She was my sister’s best friend, and the two of them had been inseparable since high school. She had been a good friend to Renee when our parents died in a car accident while I was in nursing school. Renee had been in her senior year of high school, and Nikki and I pulled her through the worst of it all. But now, Nikki was always around, and she drove me up the wall.

  “I know, I know,” Renee said. “But to compromise, I got you your own room. Nikki and I will be next door, but if you need any time on your own, you can just go back to your room. A Nikki-free zone. Fair?”

  “Fair,” I sighed.

  Upon seeing the pictures of what the rooms looked like, I was starting to think that maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad. Everything was elegantly decorated, yet simple. Gold embellishments stood out against dark backdrops of obsidian and quartz. The beds were made with what looked like silk sheets, there were jacuzzis in the bathrooms, and the view of the Strip out the floor-to-ceiling windows was to die for.

  “This place sure looks nice,” I said, flipping through more of the pages she had handed me. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s newer. A girl Nikki knows stayed there a few weeks ago and said it was incredible. Great service, decent prices, and a nice casino. The pool is supposed to be legendary, as well. I think it’s the perfect thing for you right now.” Renee leaned forward and put her hand on my knee. “You spend every day caring for other people. It’s time to spend some of that energy on yourself. You deserve it more than anyone I know. It’s going to be so much fun.”

  I smiled and nodded, but I didn’t feel as excited as she seemed to be. This was daunting for me. I would rather stay home in my safe place. I would rather get up every day that week and go to the hospital and do my job. Texas was my home, and my happy place, and I had never felt the urge to leave.

  Renee sighed. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

  I met my sister’s eyes. I could see the disappointment in the slump of her shoulders. “It’s not personal,” I assured her. “You know me. I just like it here. I’ve never really cared to go anywhere. Travel isn’t in my blood.”

  “You can’t say that if you’ve never gone anywhere,” Renee scolded, sounding like our mother yet again.

  “I know, I just… I don’t know. Casinos and clubs and drinking booze on the street just isn’t my thing, you know?”

  “Oh, believe me, I know. Chamomile tea and lavender-scented candles is your thing. So is being in bed by nine every night.”

  “Yeah, because I get up at four in the morning,” I said.

  Renee shook her head and lifted her nose at me. “You are going to come with us, and we are all going to have an awesome time. Trust me. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t actually know the answer to the question. I supposed the worst thing that could happen was that I would hate it there and I would waste a week of my life holed up in a hotel room. Although if it was truly that terrible, I could just catch a flight home.

  “Exactly,” Renee said. “So, stop overthinking it. It will be great. But now, we have to think about the important stuff. Do you have a bathing suit?”

  I scowled. “Of course, I have a bathing suit.”

  “If it has a skirt, or any fabric that covers your tummy, or shorts, it doesn’t count.”

  I frowned as I considered the on
e bathing suit that was currently packed away at the bottom of a swimming bag I hadn’t touched in two years. It was a tankini top that I wore with a pair of Hawaiian board shorts. I swallowed. “Okay, so I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  “Glad I asked,” Renee said. “Now, you’ll need to consider a couple of other things. You’re going to need clothes. You know, clothes? The things people wear who don’t wear scrubs out of fear of getting bodily fluids on themselves?”

  I glared at her. “Yes. I have clothes, too. You just never see me wearing them.”

  “Your clothes are hermit clothes,” Renee said.

  “Hermit clothes? What the hell does that mean?”

  Renee sipped her tea and shrugged one shoulder. “How many pairs of jeans do you own?”

  “Two.”

  “How many pairs of jeans do you own that fit you?”

  I crossed my arms and proceeded to pout. She had caught me. I hadn’t worn jeans in ages. They were too restricting compared to the scrubs I was so used to wearing.

  “Exactly my point,” Renee said matter-of-factly. “You need new clothes for this trip. And for life, in general. Things that fit you. And shoes. Good God, girl, you need new shoes. You absolutely cannot wear those work shoes of yours in Vegas. Not even on the plane to Vegas. Those stay here.”

  “I’m not buying the heels you wear everywhere,” I said. “I’ll break my ankles.”

  “I never said anything about you having to buy heels. Just shoes that look nice. They do make nice looking shoes that are also comfortable, you know? It’s not the eighteen hundreds anymore. You can have the best of both worlds.”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. She had a point. I hated when she had a point. “Okay,” I said. “What else will I be needing for this vacation of ours?”

  Renee launched into lists of all the things I needed to do over the next two days. Most of the things she said I instantly forgot about because they were completely unnecessary.

  She wanted me to go to a tanning salon, which would absolutely not be happening. As a nurse, I knew what those beds did to a person’s skin, and I didn’t feel like doing the cancer dance when I hit my forties or fifties.

  She also wanted me to make a hair appointment. I had scheduled haircuts every two months where I got the same trim. I wasn’t going to mess with a good thing.

  Renee insisted on manicures and pedicures, which I begrudgingly agreed to. I couldn’t see the harm in having my fingers match my toes. Then Renee started saying how we had to make sure I had several new bikinis, and my nail color had to somehow go with all of them. Feeling a little overwhelmed, I told her I needed to head to bed and get some sleep before my last shift the following day. I promised I would get my nails done with her on Sunday after we went shopping for shoes, clothes, and if Renee had any say in it, a separate bikini for each day of the week.

  After Renee left, I basked in the silence of my apartment. This was the last little bit of alone time I was going to have before leaving for Vegas. I was intimidated by the thoughts of packing my suitcase and getting to the airport. The thought of being in Las Vegas made my stomach flip.

  I wondered if there was anything I could say or do to get myself out of going on this trip with my sister and Nikki. I knew that if I did, Renee would hold it against me for eternity. She was doing a very generous thing for me, and I would be a terrible sister if I ruined it all because I was afraid of a vacation.

  How bad could it really be? I had seven days to do whatever I wanted. I could lounge by the pool sipping on pina coladas all day. There was nothing bad about that scenario.

  As I brushed my teeth, I started daydreaming about lying on a pool chair in a red bikini with a massive sun hat and designer sunglasses. I could practically taste the coconut and rum already.

  Chapter 5

  Greyson

  When I opened up the garage door, the sunlight that spilled inside was nearly blinding. The day was perfect. The sun was hot, but not too hot, as it would be in the next few months. I was in my leather gear: a jacket and gloves. I was wearing dark denim jeans and my riding boots and was eager to ride to The Citrine. My suit was neatly rolled up in the bag slung over my back, and I hoped it wouldn’t wrinkle too much on the ride to work. I hadn’t taken my Ducati out on the road in nearly a month, and I had begun to miss the way the engine roared between my knees.

  I tightened the chin strap of my helmet and swung one leg over the seat. I started the bike up, revved the engine like a spoiled child might—and was thankful to live in a remote area with no neighbors to hear me—and peeled out of the garage and down the winding driveway of my ten-acre property toward downtown Las Vegas.

  The purr of the engine when I opened it up on the highway was music to my ears. Cars whistled by as I gently pulled the bike from side to side to weave around traffic that seemed to be standing still, despite the speed limit of ninety miles per hour. More than one person rolled down their window to shake their fist at me and yell profanities, but I was long gone before the words even left their lips, and they were specks in my mirrors.

  The sun was hot on my back, and the wind pushed into my chest. I stayed hunkered down, the wind peeling off my shoulders. My stomach pressed to the gas tank as I opened up the throttle and really let her fly. The bike roared as I pulled away, clear of all the cars on the highway. I rode solo for a good few miles before catching up to any others. The straight stretch of asphalt was the best place to take her higher than the speedometer would go.

  I kept my eyes peeled for cops and didn’t take my hand off the throttle until I was within a mile of the Strip. Then I wound down and took it at a more leisurely pace.

  When I pulled into the roundabout entrance of The Citrine, one of the valets, a young woman I knew by the name of Tara, rushed forward to greet me. Usually, I would ride straight underground to the employee parking, but today was different, and I had hoped Tara would be working.

  I got off the bike and took my helmet off. She stood before me, beaming with joy, as I took the keys from the ignition and slapped them into her open palm.

  “Now,” I said sternly after pulling my helmet off. “Don’t do anything stupid, all right?”

  Tara nodded as she clutched the keys to her chest. “I won’t, Mr. Kline. Don’t worry. I just want to ride to my dad’s house to show him. This is his favorite bike. He won’t believe it when he sees it in the driveway.”

  “Keep her all day,” I said. “He can ride her if he has a license, too.”

  “Really?” Tara asked, all doe-eyed and excited.

  “Of course,” I said. “Now I gotta run. Be safe. Put this on.” I shrugged out of my jacket and helped her into it. It was definitely too big for her, but there was no way I was letting her ride around on asphalt without anything to protect her skin. Road rash wasn’t a good time, and I didn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

  I had gone down on my bike before, when I was younger and stupid. I had made a maneuver I didn’t have the experience to execute, and the bike had gone out from under me. It crushed my leg as I slid down the road with it pinned on top of me. I now had the scars on my back to prove it, along with mangled scar tissue on my right knee from all the surgeries post-crash. It didn’t slow me down today, and it was as if the injury never happened, but the recovery had been brutal.

  I left Tara behind after telling her nearly four more times to be careful. I listened to her squeal with excitement as she started the Ducati up. I had let her ride my bike before. She had one of her own, a little lime green Yamaha, and she worked on them herself. She was a mechanic in training, and it was her father who was teaching her. I knew they didn’t have the means to afford the more competitive sports bikes, so being able to give her a chance to feel the power of it for herself made my morning. Not only that, but she was a good employee, and I found recognizing my staff with more personal rewards was more satisfying than giving them a gift card.

  When I made my way up the marble steps to the front door, I spotted M
eek. He was standing with his arms crossed and was shaking his head at me. When I was close enough, he spoke. “You really had to show up on that thing today?”

  “What? I can’t ride my motorcycle now? You take the fun out of everything, you know that?”

  “Isn’t that kind of my job?” Meek asked.

  “I guess. But what’s so bad about riding my bike to work? It’s a perfect day for it.”

  “It makes you an easy target, Greyson.”

  I rolled my eyes. This was not the first time Meek had said something like this to me. He was constantly worried about me putting myself in danger. He always jumped to conclusions and expected that the worst thing that could happen was exactly what would happen.

  “I’m not the President, Meek. No one is going to try to take me out while I’m on my bike. This is real life, not an action movie.”

  “You’re the owner of the highest grossing casino in Las Vegas. You need to start taking that more seriously.”

  Meek opened the door for me. We stepped inside, and I considered his words. Perhaps he had a point. I tended to think of myself as the same guy I was before I was making millions. The rest of the world didn’t see me as that guy. They saw me as Mr. Kline. I knew there was danger in having my name, but it was easier to carry on like there wasn’t. So far, nothing bad had happened besides Meek’s ever-growing paranoia.

  I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and turned back to say something to my friend but realized Meek was still at the door. He was stone-still and looking the other way, back down to where the valets were. On the other side of the drive, beneath an oasis of palm trees and bright flowers, was a black SUV with tinted windows.

  The SUV pulled away from the curb, and Meek did something with his hands that I couldn’t see behind the bulk of his body. When he turned back to me, his brow was furrowed. He met my eye and looked quickly away.

  “What was that all about?” I asked.