Sex On The Beach: Bad Boys Club Romance #1

by Olivia Thorne

  What the hell?!

  I walked over to the door, hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation – but anything I might have overheard was drowned out by Aisha’s squealing.

  “Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod this could be it!” she shrieked, and ran into her bedroom. “Wait till I text everybody about THIS!”

  58

  Ian

  Vic chuckled as we stepped off the porch. “Dude, no need to walk me to my car, I think I can protect myself.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “What, cat got your tongue?” Vic asked.

  I made sure we were clear of the house – and anybody who might overhear – before I laid into him.

  “You son of a bitch,” I hissed.

  “Who, me?” Vic asked innocently. “I ain’t a son of a bitch – I just invited you to a bitchin’ party, that’s all.”

  I jabbed my finger in his chest. “You tell them I don’t want anybody talking about business around me.”

  Vic grinned. “Not in front of Surfer Girl, huh?”

  “That’s my price. Meet it or I walk.”

  “Alright, alright… I’ll spread the word.”

  “You do that,” I snapped, and headed back for the house.

  59

  I wasn’t exactly the best company for the rest of the night. I must have exuded a chilly vibe, because Aisha excused herself about 30 minutes later and headed into her bedroom.

  Katie turned to me on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I muttered.

  “He just invited us to a wedding reception.” She was clearly confused about my reaction – and a little annoyed.

  How could I tell her it was all a ploy? That he hadn’t invited us out of the goodness of his heart, but because he wanted to pressure me into doing what he wanted? That he’d manipulated Aisha into wanting to go – and therefore Katie, and by extension, me?

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” I said grumpily.

  She ran her fingers through my hair. “Is it the suit?”

  I looked at her and frowned. “What?”

  “He said you should buy a suit, and if you couldn’t afford it to let him know.”

  Oh yeah.

  Bastard.

  “No, it’s fine,” I grumbled.

  “Do you have a suit?”

  I have a closet full of them back in Palo Alto.

  “Not here, no,” I said truthfully.

  She caressed my beard. “I could buy you one.”

  I stared at her in surprise. I felt incredibly touched – and also ashamed. Ashamed that I hadn’t told her who I was. Ashamed that of all the people she could offer to buy a suit, I was the last man on earth who deserved it – or needed it.

  It was such a sweet gesture. It was an expense that she really couldn’t afford, and yet here she was offering it.

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. “I can’t let you show up at your friend’s wedding in board shorts.”

  “I don’t think that’s – ”

  “I insist. Tomorrow we’ll go shopping and get you a new suit.”

  “But – ”

  “No buts. Unless it’s this butt,” she said, sliding her hand under my ass with an impish little smile.

  60

  And that was how I found myself the next day in a Men’s Suit Clearance Outlet in a strip mall in Los Angeles.

  I cringed as I looked at row upon row of $99 pant and suit combos.

  This was not the type of place I went to buy my suits.

  The Giorgio Armani Boutique, yes.

  I’d also wear Hugo Boss or Gucci in a pinch.

  USA Tailorwear for Men, no.

  Katie saw my expression and looked crestfallen. “We could go to Macy’s or something. I’m sure they’d have a pretty good deal…”

  I looked at myself in the three-way mirror.

  You dick.

  She honestly cares about you. The only reason you’re keeping up with this stupid charade is because you don’t trust her – even though she’s the most trustworthy person in your life.

  I opened my mouth, and I swear to God I was about to tell her who I really was. That I had almost a hundred thousand dollars worth of suits in my house in Palo Alto, and I could just have my assistant Fed-Ex me one –

  But I couldn’t.

  In the end, I just gave her a forced smile and said, “This’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll buy you something nicer if you – ”

  I stopped her by kissing her.

  “This will be fine,” I said, looking deep into her eyes, and kissed her again.

  61

  Katie

  I felt bad that I couldn’t splurge on something better… but when you factored in the suit, the shirt, the tie, the belt, and the shoes, plus tax, it was going to be pushing $300.

  I could afford that. I’d just have to cut expenses in other areas.

  I kept beating myself up that I hadn’t taken him someplace nicer, but he seemed to be okay with it after the first couple of minutes. I swear, when we walked in, it was like looking at a kid who thought he was going to have a regular dinner and then you gave him vegan nut loaf.

  Surfers can’t be choosers, my snarky side wanted to tell him – but I bit my tongue on that one.

  Things got better once he started trying them on. He actually looked really good in a suit.

  “Not too bad,” he muttered as he peered at himself in the three-way mirror.

  “It’s a good length,” the salesman said. He seemed aggravated by Ian’s pickiness. I’m sure he didn’t deal with many customers this demanding – not in a $99 suit store.

  “Yeah, but it’s tight across the shoulders, and the cuff should show a little bit more when my arms hang at my side. Let me try the next size up.”

  Oddly, Ian seemed really knowledgeable about all this – especially for a guy who hung out in a swim suit all day.

  The real trouble started innocently enough.

  “I wish we could go to the wedding,” I said dreamily. “I bet it will be so romantic…”

  “I hope he got a pre-nup,” was all Ian had to say as he futzed with a new jacket.

  I stared at him. “Why?”

  He answered, distracted, as he buttoned the front of the jacket. “Because you never know when a woman’s going to take you for half of everything you own.”

  Jeez.

  “That’s a really cynical way of looking at it,” I said, miffed.

  He gave a short, biting laugh. “No, that’s the realistic way of looking at it.”

  “God – is that what you think about all women?” I asked angrily. “Is that what you think about me?”

  He looked over dully, like he didn’t even know what he’d been talking about – and then he got this Oh CRAP look on his face.

  “No – no, of course not,” he said, seriously trying to backpedal.

  “Well, you just said it.”

  “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Well, someone might say that when you weren’t thinking, you instinctively said exactly what you thought.”

  Now he started to get annoyed. “What’s wrong with saying ‘I hope he got a pre-nup’?”

  “Nothing – I guess – ”

  What I was really thinking, but couldn’t say, was this: If you ever proposed to me, would you say, ‘I want to marry you – but not until you sign a pre-nup’?

  That snarky little voice inside me also wanted to add, Why are you so concerned about pre-nups? After all, I’d only get half of your surfboard, cuz that’s all you have, dumbass. And WHO’S buying you a suit?

  But I decided to go easy on him. “I just don’t think it’s very romantic if the first thing the guy says after ‘Will you marry me?’ is ‘Sign right here.’”

  He looked me deep in the eyes… and then he seemed to undergo an internal shift. It was like the bitterness just left him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had a friend who got ta
ken for a lot in a divorce. I just… it’s a touchy subject for me.”

  I could see that.

  “Okay…” I mumbled.

  He walked over from the mirrors and kissed me. “We good?”

  “Yeah,” I said, and managed a smile.

  “I guess they don’t have pre-nups in Can’s Ass,” he said.

  Ew.

  I wish he hadn’t mixed this pre-nup crap with one of my favorite memories from the last couple of weeks.

  “No,” I said. “I guess not.”

  He stepped back in front of the mirror, fiddled some more with his cuffs, and finally said yes.

  We bought the suit and left the store… but something had changed a little. Something small, but definitely for the worse.

  Things had seemed so perfect the last two weeks. It was moments like the one in the store that proved you really don’t know a person at all.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I guess, deep down, I was scared that maybe Ian wasn’t right for me. I didn’t want to face that possibility… but I hadn’t faced it with Rick, and it had nearly destroyed my life.

  I promised myself right then and there that I would never let a man lie to me again. I wasn’t talking about drinking the last of the milk, or going golfing with his buddies. I meant something big, like Rick did with the cheating.

  And if he did lie, or if he did something that proved we weren’t meant to be… then that would be it.

  I just hoped this whole business about the pre-nup wasn’t a sign of worse things to come.

  62

  The wedding reception was amazing.

  We drove in Aisha’s car – a twenty-year-old Mercedes with dull paint. I’ve noticed something about people in LA: they’ll drive an old Mercedes in crappy shape, rather than a brand-new Honda or a Toyota, just so they can say, “Yeah, I have a Mercedes.”

  My roommate was awesome in a lot of ways, but she was apparently one of those people.

  First off, we approached the house on a winding road of mega mansions. I’m not kidding, there were places along the way that made Versailles look small. (I’d only seen Versailles in pictures, but I’m guessing I was right.)

  “Wow,” I said, with my nose almost pressed up against the window. “Wow.”

  “Careful,” Aisha warned playfully, “your tongue will drop out of your mouth if you don’t close it.”

  I ignored her and instead turned to Ian, who was in the backseat with me. “Isn’t this incredible?”

  He looked out at the landscape with a faintly bored expression. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

  “Nice?! Nice?!”

  He gave me a strange look, like he was trying to decide something about me.

  “I’d love to see what you call ‘amazing’!” I said in irritation.

  He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Your body when you’re naked.”

  I smacked his arm and blushed, but all was forgiven.

  As we continued, cars came at us from the opposite direction and parked in front of a long string of vehicles lining both sides of the street. Then guys in red vests would hop out and pile into a waiting van, which would screech up the road ahead of us.

  “Are those valets?” I asked, amazed.

  “Yup,” Ian said.

  “Oh my God – look at these cars,” Aisha said, her voice both awestruck and nervous.

  It was pretty amazing. There were all sorts of luxury cars I didn’t even know the make of, in all different shades.

  “What’s that one?” I asked Ian.

  “A Rolls-Royce.”

  “What about that one?”

  “Bentley.”

  “That’s a Ferrari, right?”

  “No. A Lamborghini Aventador.”

  I frowned at him. “You know a lot about expensive cars.”

  He paused, then said, “I was a teenage boy once.”

  “Oh my God… I can’t drive up in this piece of crap,” Aisha fretted.

  “Why not?” I asked sassily. “It’s a Mercedes.”

  She glared at me in the rearview mirror but kept on driving.

  The house was colossal. ‘Mansion’ really didn’t do it justice. It looked like somebody had taken the White House, tripled it in length, and jazzed it up a little with some modern touches.

  “Tacky,” I heard Ian mutter under his breath.

  I shot him a look out of the corner of my eye. “Don’t be a hater.”

  He grinned. “Haters gonna hate.”

  “You will, apparently.”

  He just laughed.

  A small army of valets were out front. They dove into cars as they drove up, then tore down the winding road, only to be replaced by another squadron of red vests pouring out of a white van.

  The guy who opened Aisha’s door looked at her car like What the hell is this? But she kept her head high as she took the ticket he offered.

  A snooty-looking man in a tuxedo speed-walked over to us. He sneered at Ian’s suit and Aisha’s car, then held up his hand to the valet in the universal gesture for STOP!

  “What are your names, please?”

  Ian narrowed his eyes in irritation. “Ian McLaren. We’re with Vic Cortelian.”

  The snooty guy tapped something into his iPad, and suddenly his eyes bugged out. After that, his entire demeanor changed.

  “Oh, Mr. McLaren, welcome,” he said warmly. He nodded at the valet, who stepped into the car and drove it down the hill. “Please, come in and enjoy yourselves!”

  Aisha and I both looked back in shock as the snooty guy disappeared to lord it over somebody else.

  “Okay, that was interesting,” Aisha said.

  I glanced at Ian.

  “Guess Vic’s got a lot of pull,” was all he said.

  We walked inside – me in the only ‘little black dress’ I owned, Aisha in a stunning green number, and Ian in his newly bought suit.

  As we strolled past people mingling in front, I realized how expensive all the men’s clothes looked – how perfectly tailored they were – and suddenly I felt bad, like I’d done something unforgivable by only spending $280 on Ian’s outfit.

  He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he didn’t seem to care about fitting in at all. He just looked around like he was already bored with being here.

  Still, I felt compelled to lean over and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  He frowned. “For what?”

  “I should have bought you a better suit.”

  He broke out into a massive grin. “My suit is great. Thank you,” he said, and kissed me.

  I felt better after that.

  The main foyer was almost as big as my parents’ McMansion back in Wichita. The entire room was blinding white. The stairs curved up gracefully to the second floor, with a black railing partially covered in gold leaf. The foyer split off into three separate, massive rooms, each with crowds of people laughing and sipping champagne. In the far distance I heard strings playing – but not a quartet. More like a freakin’ orchestra.

  “Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod,” Aisha whispered under her breath. It was kind of funny to watch her – she was normally so confident and bold, but now she was acting like a frightened third grader.

  “Just remember, you’ve got a ten million dollar script for Kerry Washington,” I said.

  That seemed to reignite a fire in her.

  “You’re right… you’re right,” she said, and nodded as though she were bucking herself up. “Time to go get the ten million and Kerry Washington.”

  Suddenly, a deep bass voice boomed out through the foyer. “Ian! Brah! And you brought Surfer Girl and Plus One!”

  Vic walked out of one of the three ballrooms, arms spread wide in greeting. I have to admit, he looked pretty damn good. He wore a black tux and a black shirt but no bowtie, with the collar open at the throat. However, his vest was this amazing pearlescent embroidered material. The contrast with the black made him look like a silvery peacock.

  Of course, three dozen heads turned to watch the b
rash hooligan shouting in the foyer. I blushed, and Aisha froze, but Ian just stood there with a look on his face like Why do I put up with this crap?

  “Ladies, you look stunning,” Vic said, and kissed Aisha’s hand. Then he turned to Ian. “Dude, what’s with the Goodwill hand-me-downs?”

  I immediately wanted to crawl under the nearest $100,000 divan.

  Ian gave him a tight smile. “Some of us don’t care about money like you do, Vic.”

  “As I can see both from your actions and your suit,” Vic said, then turned to me. “Why do you look like you want to puke right now?”

  “Because I bought him the suit,” I mumbled.

  “Oh! Ha!” Vic turned again to Ian. “You fallen on hard times, brah? You’re making the ladies feed and clothe you now?”

  “Don’t go away mad, Vic,” Ian said. “Just go away.”

  Vic turned back to me again. “Don’t worry about it, he looks great. He’ll probably start a new fashion trend by the end of the party.” He tried to straighten Ian’s tie – that is, until Ian slapped his hand away. “No, seriously, you look like the salt of the earth, man. ‘Just folks.’ Totally bougie. Alright, come on, time to kiss the ring.”

  “Whose ring?” I asked.

  “The Pope’s!” Vic called out as he started up the steps.

  “…now?” Ian asked.

  “Uh, yeah now.”

  “Unhh,” Ian groaned, and slowly trudged after him.

  I followed him, and Aisha tagged along behind me.

  “Oh – ladies,” Vic said with a one-eyed grimace. “Sorry, this is a private audience with his holiness. Go on, grab some champagne and filet mignon. Mingle with some guys in better suits. Sorry, did I say that out loud?”

  I stared at him in utter shock. “We can’t go with you?!”

  “Nope, but you can enjoy the party! Go on now, shoo!” Vic said, flapping his hands at us as he commenced walking up the steps.

  “I’ll be back before you know it,” Ian said. He kissed me, then started walking up the steps.

  He looked back down at me from the top, winked once, and disappeared into a door that Vic held open.