Billionaire's Valentine - A Standalone Novel (A Billionaire Boss Office Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #7)

by Claire Adams

  Anybody going there for the first time would probably think eating there would be some sort of health hazard. Calling it a dive bar was generous. The five tables in the fairly small square room had chairs all the way around, so if you were eating there, you were eating with strangers. A lot of people just stood eating by the bar. All the plates were mismatched and the glasses were plastic. It was like eating in your thrifty grandmother's house – if she happened to make the most delicious food you'd ever had in your life.

  Makani's friend, Mamo, was older than us, but they'd known each other since Makani was a teenager. We ate there pretty often. His chicken long rice was what I would request as my last meal before I passed.

  Sitting there with Makani and a bunch of people who'd become my friends by the time we left was one of the reasons I loved Lanai. I'd lived in a small town before coming here, too. I loved being able to point out my neighbors and know them all by name. I loved how even though tourism was the major economic activity here, there was a homey, family vibe to the local spots around the island.

  We ended up sitting at a table with some guys who ran boat trips through the marine reserve for tourists. We ordered our food and laughed with them, drinking cocktails. One of them was a man about forty years old who'd always hit on Makani, but she always turned him down. He was married. We knew his wife, but as far as we knew, he only did it for a bit of fun.

  The people at our table changed a few times during our meal. At one point, this man, probably the only tourist in there, walked up to us and offered to buy me a drink.

  He had a European accent and was pretty sunburned, around maybe his mid-thirties, speaking pidgin badly. I only let him buy me one if he got one for Makani, too. He brought us the drinks and talked with us for a while before leaving when it was clear neither of us was going to end up leaving with him. Makani watched him weave through the crowd and walk out the door.

  "I think we just ruined his night," she said.

  "He was only in here for one thing. He probably asked someone to tell him where a good place to pick up local girls was."

  "He had his eye on you since he came in," she said. I scowled.

  "Not my type."

  "I don't think your type even exists, Abby," she said, taking a sip of her drink.

  "I've liked guys before," I said defensively.

  "I know you have. You just don't talk to them, date them, or let them take you out."

  I shrugged. Not all a lie. In fact, mostly true. Okay. All true. It wasn't that I didn't have a type or that I thought Lanai was too small. I had heard the rumors about me and Makani. A lot of people, especially people who didn't know her very well, thought we were together. I didn't do anything to necessarily dispute those rumors because it wasn't a big deal, but I could see why they had started in the first place. I just couldn't do it.

  The thought of dating scared me a little. I hadn't seen enough stable, rewarding relationships to really want to be involved in one. Not even at home. Especially not at home.

  Both my parents were dead. My father, last I had checked, was actually still alive, but he might have died in the years since. Even if he hadn't, he was as good as dead to me. I didn't even have his name anymore. My mother was in a better place now; I knew she was dead. She had died in front of me.

  It had been years since it had happened and Makani knew. I had told her. What she didn't know was that it was the main reason why I never dated. Before, it had been even worse. I wouldn't even talk to guys right after it had happened. Now, I could flirt and had even had a hookup or two, but never dated. Never kept a guy around long enough to show me his true colors.

  I thought about saying it, but why would I ruin such a good night with something like that? It had all happened a long time ago, and I was still healing from it. One day, it wouldn't affect me at all. I was hopeful. Until then, everyone on the island could be jealous of my gorgeous wife. I changed the subject, not wanting to bring the tone down.

  "Are you tired tonight or did you want to do something after this?" I asked her.

  "There should be a party on the beach not far from your place."

  "Party like hotel party?"

  "No, all guys from the city. You want to go?" she asked. I said I did.

  It was at a place not that far from my house, a house where I knew a bunch of guys who had moved here from Los Angeles lived. It was a pretty big place, but they shared it. Everyone was in the back on the beach when we got there.

  There were plenty of familiar faces. A lot of people had been there longer than us, so they were already a little drunk. There was music playing and people grouped together having a good time.

  People stumbled up to us asking us where we'd been and how we were. A number of them worked with us at the hotel or at other resorts on the island. Even if they didn't do it all year round, they tended to get jobs taking tourists on hikes and things like that to take advantage of the seasonal jobs they brought with them.

  We got ourselves drinks and walked out onto the beach. I counted maybe twenty to thirty people at the party, not many at all, but everyone knew each other. Doing things like this meant we could still have fun on our own island while the tourists flooded the bars and lounges. I appreciated the industry, hell, I worked in it, but I understood wanting to be around your friends.

  At work, you had to be polite and accommodate strangers. Here, you could speak pidgin and let your hair down.

  "Oh no," I heard Makani mumble under her breath.

  "What is it?" I asked. I looked around and saw what had changed her mood so fast. Living on such a small, tightly-knit island was a good thing, most of the time. Knowing everyone was nice, except when you had someone to avoid.

  Keno and Makani had dated, and their relationship and ended abruptly almost two months ago. It was so sudden, you could have blinked and missed it. She completely cut him off one day, and it had taken days for her to tell me what had gone wrong. I knew what was wrong now, though; she had spotted him, and if he had seen us, too, he was going to come over.

  "It's okay, he probably just wants to say hi," I said reassuringly.

  I liked Keno. He was a nice guy. He worked at the Four Seasons with us, and I was still friendly with him, as far as was still respectful to my friendship with Makani. She told me that she didn't mind me hanging out with him since we had all hung out together when they were dating, but I knew it would hurt her.

  She hadn't taken the break up well. I hated that I had had to pick sides, but I was always nice to him when I saw him. Their breakup was so unexpected – and if we were being honest, she had left him – but she had definitely taken it harder than he had.

  "Sundays are his night off; how could I forget," she admonished herself.

  "Hey, Keno," I said to him as he approached. He smiled, coming up to hug me. He was wearing a black t-shirt and pants. He was a good-looking guy, with high cheekbones and dusky-colored skin.

  "Howzit," he said to me. "Makani," he said slowly, looking at her. She looked at him and gave him a tight smile, not saying anything. Wow, this was about to be a long night.

  "I didn't see you today, Keno," I said, trying to smooth things over a little.

  "No, I didn't come by the main building today. How was work?"

  Makani let me carry the conversation, only saying something when I asked her directly. I knew it was weird between them, but I wished they would just have a conversation about who they were to each other now that they weren't a couple.

  "Are you here with anybody?" I asked him. I intended it to be casual, but I saw the way Makani clammed up when I said it.

  "No. Just me. Are you?"

  "No, we're here together," I said. "When did you get here?"

  "I was just leaving," he said, glancing at Makani, who was studiously looking everywhere but at him. He sighed and told us he'd see us at work. He hugged me again, while Makani just nodded in his direction instead of doing the same.

  "Oh my God," she sighed when he was out o
f earshot.

  "I can't stand you two together," I told her, taking a sip out of my cup.

  "I'm sorry. I just can't talk to him. Did I ruin your night? Do you want to leave?"

  "No, we came here to have a good time. Have another drink," I suggested, trying to help her get over the meeting. She had one and slowly recovered quickly from the run-in with Keno. She was laughing and smiling again in no time.

  I didn't want to tell her, but seeing the way she had become with Keno really didn't make me want to date. They had been friends at one point, so hopefully, enough time would pass when they could be friends again one day.

  We hadn't driven there so nobody was too scared to have too much to drink. Two hours after we'd arrived, Makani pulled me from the party, reminding me that we had work the next day. The walk from there to my place was fifteen minutes, but was made significantly longer by how drunk we were. We managed to get there in one piece, both of us holding our shoes in our hands and howling with laughter.

  Chapter Five

  Nate

  My body felt heavy and useless as I tried to wake up. I felt like I was awake already, but I couldn't move. I opened my eyes and immediately regretted it.

  I was on the bed. On it, like on top. I had never made it under the covers the night before. I was covered in sweat and my head was pounding. I had to squint my eyes to keep them open because it was so brought in the room. Who the fuck turned on so many lights? What time was it?

  I groaned and struggled into an upright sitting position. My eyes adjusted a little letting me see that no, the lights were not on, it was just daylight. Bright, sunny daylight. I had no idea what time it was or when I had even gotten to sleep. I couldn't really even remember leaving the room yesterday once I had gotten here.

  All right, I had had nights like this before. First thing I had to do was figure out what time it was. I patted my pants pockets, finding my phone in the back. Thank God I hadn't been robbed since I'd obviously gone out. My eyes squinted at the lit phone screen. Twelve o’clock on a Monday afternoon.

  I flopped backward back onto the bed. The action made my head hurt. So last night had been a big night, huh? Obviously because now I could hardly see three feet ahead of me, and I felt like I had a boulder inside my fucking skull.

  I unzipped my hoodie and peeled it off of me since I was sweating so much. I touched my forehead. It was cool, but still wet with sweat. Hangovers didn't do that to you.

  Fuck, I felt sick. My stomach turned and I felt dizzy. I got up slowly to my feet and peeled my shirt off, leaving it on the floor with my hoodie. I staggered around the room, looking for that mini kitchen refreshment center the girl, what was her name, had told me about. There had to be water in there. It was just the more expensive version of a minibar. I yanked the fridge open and looked inside.

  Wow, she hadn't been kidding; they really had hooked me up. Ace of Spades, Hennessey, Patron…all my biggest mistakes.

  I spotted the bottled water and reached for one, wrestling the cap off before I downed nearly the whole thing at one go. I finished it and tried to get the cap back on. Couldn't. Shaky hands. Awesome.

  How long had it been since I'd had any heroin because my body was telling me it had been too long?

  That was the other reason why this shit was so fucked up. Right then, I felt like shit. My head was pounding. I couldn't remember anything, and I felt like I'd probably made some terrible decisions the night before, but I didn't want to use. I wasn't anxious and panicky. I didn't feel like I was drowning. My body was just so used to having that fucking poison in it all the time that it was getting dope sick.

  It wasn't just me that was addicted, like the me who could control the shit I did and didn't do. I needed the stuff. I'd trained my body to need it like I needed food. Like I needed water.

  I knew how this went. The longer I took before I shot up again, the worse it would get. I'd start sweating more, and then I'd get queasy. I'd throw up even though I was certain I hadn't had anything to eat since I'd gotten here yesterday. I'd get sicker and sicker till it eventually passed and I stopped withdrawing which could take days, or I'd cave and shoot up so I wouldn't feel like I was dying.

  I already knew which one was going to happen. I chucked the empty bottle in the trash with its bottle cap and staggered back to the bed. I leaned over to my backpack, which was where I knew my kit was. I tried the zipper, getting frustrated and nearly breaking it, trying to open it up. I pulled my kit out and put it on the bed in front of me.

  I was starting to get anxious now that I knew what was coming. I knew I just had to get this stupid thing open, stick the needle in me, and I'd be fine.

  My hands felt like they weren't mine trying to get a hold on the zipper. I got it open a little, then shoved my fingers in the hole, pulling the zipper teeth apart. My stuff flew out of the bag, landing on the bed and the floor.

  "Fuck," I swore, managing to get one bottle before it rolled off the bed and smashed on the floor. Syringes were all over the ground. I got down on my hands and knees to grab one. I wasn't gentle enough trying to get its plastic wrapping off. It snapped into two pieces in my hands.

  "Shit." I threw the pieces across the room and searched the floor for the closest one to me. I spotted one peeking out from under the couch at the foot of the bed and angrily shoved it out of the way. I dropped to my knees, getting the syringe out. I lugged my suitcase out of my way, making all my luggage fall out across the floor.

  I climbed back onto the bed and tried to pierce the vial to fill the syringe. My hands were shaking and sweaty. I wiped them off on my jeans and tried again, gritting my teeth. I got it filled and swore again, remembering my belt was still somewhere on the floor.

  Fuck it. I needed this now before it got any worse. I flexed my arm, clenching my fist to find somewhere to stick it. I got it inside, feeling the little bit of pain when the needle stuck. I pulled some blood out and carefully emptied the syringe.

  I fell back on the bed, exhausted. The high crept up on me. It felt like being filled up with warm air. I started feeling better immediately, but it only lasted until I realized what I had done again.

  What I was still doing.

  Was it even worth getting mad about anymore? I was sick. I had gone, what? Twelve or so hours without my stuff and my body told me no way.

  I lay there for a while, waiting to feel well enough to get up again. The drug made my headache disappear, but I knew I was still technically hungover. I got up and walked around the room, finally able to take it in since I'd woken up. The sliding double doors onto the terrace were open and I wondered whether I had done it or housekeeping had come through when I was passed out.

  I walked back inside. I needed more water. And food probably; had I eaten since I'd gotten here? I wasn't really that hungry, but it would probably help me with my hangover when I'd come down enough to feel it again.

  I walked through the living area to get another water when I stopped. The piano. It was there. The girl who'd brought me up to my suite had told me they'd gotten me one, but I was just then really looking at it.

  I walked over. It was nice. White instead of traditional black, probably so it didn't clash with the way the rest of the room was decorated. They'd had to move some of the furniture around to make it, fit but it wasn't that obvious if you didn't know it wasn't technically supposed to be there. I ran a hand over the smooth, painted wood before I lifted the cover to look at the keys.

  The piano was always my favorite. Ever since I used to sit on the bench with my mother as a kid, obstructing her while she tried to play. She was a classically trained pianist, but hadn't gone into a musical career, making it her hobby instead.

  I still had her piano. It was an antique grand piano that my father had gotten her, which he had refused to give me many times before he finally let me have it. Rumor was she used to play when she was pregnant with me, so I'd been listening to classical music since before I was born. I didn't know whether that was true, but it
wasn't a bad thing to imagine.

  I sat down, ghosting my fingers over the keys. She could play anything. I remembered being so impressed by how well she knew all the dead masters' music. She was my piano teacher until I started going to school and it became too inconvenient for her to do it anymore.

  I played a couple keys. Then a couple more. My fingers knew where to go. Chopin. “Nocturne number one.” B flat major. My dad would listen to classical music sometimes when he worked, too. Neither of them had ever drilled me to practice. I always loved it. It had always been one thing I knew they were happy that I did, and that just made me love it more.

  I knew the piece by heart. I didn't need any sheet music. I used to be able to lose hours sat at the piano. Something about it was so calming to me.

  Not just the sound of the music, but the action, too. It felt so productive, like the music was inside of me, and the piano was just the way it got out. At some point, my headache dulled a little, and I felt myself get lost in the rhythm of playing – remembering the song, hearing it inside my head before I played the keys.

  By the time I was done, it was already past one. I decided to take a shower. I needed one. I grabbed a Snickers bar from the refreshment center, too, since I hadn't eaten anything since I'd gotten here. I was doing this wrong. This wasn't how you had a vacation. Whatever, I could just start today. Today was my real first day.

  After the shower, I looked at the in-room dining menu before I stopped. What was I doing? Why was I still hiding? It was safe here. I didn't need to hide out. Nobody had recognized me, and if they had, they didn't care. I was just another guy here. I went down to the first floor.

  Last night was foggy at best, but I had definitely gotten drunk, so I had definitely gone to a bar. Did they also serve food? Where had it been? Definitely not in here; it was outside somewhere. I left the main building looking around like I was seeing everything for the first time. People were laid out in their swimsuits by the pool. Yeah, the place might have been near the pool, I kind of remembered almost falling into it.