by Liz K. Lorde
Table of Contents
Summer Escape
Dedication
Description
Summer Of Love Series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Summer Escape
Bad Boy Billionaire and Virgin Romance
By Liz K. Lorde
Copyright 2018 by Liz K. Lorde
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Dedication
To Jessica
Description
Summer Of Love Series
At the Hamptons summer wedding of billionaire Theo “The Duke” Athens to the world’s most over the top bridezilla, Emma Vandercliff, the wedding party is treated to a round of drinks from Oberon Lawson, the mysterious & intimidating billionaire who owns most of the neighborhood.
Maybe there’s something in the drink—or maybe it’s just enough of the liquid courage they all need—but hijinks ensue as each member of the wedding party has a wild night they’ll never forget. Secrets are uncovered, stakes are raised & lives are changed forever.
The only thing certain by the end of each novel is the happy ending—but the person you arrived with might not be the one you end up going home with by the time the night is through...
Book 1 - Summer of Love - Natalie Knight
Book 2 - Summer Escape - Liz K. Lorde
Book 3 - Summer Temptation - Lana Hartley
Book 4 - Summer Flame - Gage Grayson
Book 5 - Summer Secrets - Vivien Vale
Book 6 - Summer Heat - Alexis Angel
Book 7 - Summer Lover - Carter Blake
Book 8 - Summer Fling - Daphne Dawn
Book 9 - Sinful Summer - Aiden Forbes
Book 10 - Summer Bride - Natalie Knight and Daphne Dawn
Chapter 1
Leo
At the pre-wedding toast, the bride doesn’t even sip her champagne. That’s the first sign that this wedding and everyone involved in it is totally, utterly fucking fucked.
Oberon Lawson stands in the center of the room, smiling broadly at the crowd currently enraptured by his speech. Eyes sparkle in his direction, heads nodding in agreement with his words.
I mimic the action automatically; a kind of parroting that comes from years of tedious experience. My face displays rapt attention despite the fact that my mind is a million miles away.
Faintly, I hear the drone of Lawson’s gravelly voice, but it’s vague enough that I don’t have to listen to whatever bullshit he’s currently spouting.
Thank God for small blessings.
I feel my head nod again and fight the urge to roll my eyes at the man before me.
As if this night wasn’t ridiculous enough, the fucker had to go and make a speech. I wish I could say I was surprised, but I’m not.
Oberon Lawson is the most powerful man in the Hamptons, and I’m the asshole with the muscle and the fists who keeps it that way.
I hear the crowd around me laugh and force a chuckle between my own lips in response.
Yes, my laugh says, hilarious. Such wit.
I can’t help but grind my teeth. I just need this night to end quickly. I don’t know how much of this ridiculous display of loyalty I can muster.
Still, as Oberon launches into another of his fascinating opinions, I find myself back to nodding.
I’ve spent years working for this fucker, I can make it a little while longer. You know the cliché, one last job…
I let my eyes wander around the room, taking in the well-dressed crowd. It’s a typical Hamptons gathering: everyone decked out in designer outfits, champagne clenched in hand, every last one of them too stupid to see through the man standing right in front of them.
I, on the other hand, don’t have the privilege of ignorance here. I know all too well the kind of man that Lawson really is. It would be hard not to, having been his right hand for longer than I care to mention.
After all this time, though, I’m finally seeing a way out. A light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.
I just have to get through this fucking wedding. The quicker, the better.
With the bride and groom glaring daggers at each other before vows are even exchanged, quicker is probably for the best.
My eyes land on a blonde standing across the room, her expression as openly bored as I feel. I bite back a smile as I watch her eyes actually roll in Lawson’s direction.
Kristen Jones. I’d know that face and that eye roll from anywhere—considering that I’ve been watching her all fucking day.
At least someone is less than completely enamored by the guy.
“Cheers!” I hear suddenly, the word like a chorus around me.
I look back in time to see Lawson down his champagne, the rest of the crowd quickly following suit.
All except for the bride. I’ve seen a fake sip or two in my day—people who drink with Lawson do it all the time. Worried that he’ll slip something in their drink, usually—and they’re not wrong to worry, either.
I wonder for a second what the bride might be worried about.
“Cheers,” I offer belatedly, sipping from my own glass as I look back towards the blonde.
I’m mildly surprised to find her returning my gaze, our eyes locking over the rims of our glasses.
Heat flashes through my veins, a spark flaring in the space between us. I hold her gaze for a long moment, surprised by my own attraction.
I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t fucking gorgeous. In fact, she’s the kind of woman that could bring most men to their knees.
The thing is, though, I’ve met her kind before. They aren’t exactly uncommon in this little slice of the world. And I’m not exactly the kind of man who kneels.
I push back on my quickly building desire, trying to reorder my thoughts in the face of those fucking piercing blue eyes.
It does me no good to want her. I know better.
Women are great, for a while. But all relationships come with an expiration date. That date for me is unchanging: the sooner, the better.
Don’t get me wrong, I love women. I’ve just learned that having a good time with one is about all the attention I can provide.
Still, though, there’s that damn heat; a kind of unfamiliar flash of interest. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s something…new.
Which won’t change what happens next one damn bit.
“Enjoying the party?”
The words cut roughly through my thoughts, severing my own pointless line of thought.
I affix my best smile to my face as I turn, already knowing I’ll find Lawson at my side.
“What’s not to enjoy?” I ask with a single raised eyebrow.
Lawson laughs
, the sound every bit as gravelly as his speaking voice. There’s a lot that Lawson doesn’t know about me; my disdain for him just one of many secrets I keep. My hatred for Hampton’s parties, on the other hand, isn’t exactly unknown.
“Lighten up,” he chimes, smiling from ear to ear, “it’s a wedding, Leo, not a funeral.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
I take another drink of champagne, my eyes tracking back to Kristen. She’s chatting idly with another bridesmaid, laughing and guzzling champagne. If it wasn’t for the way that her eyes keep pulling back in my direction, I might think she was truly enjoying the conversation.
I feel her strain, especially since I also can’t seem to keep my eyes to myself.
“You do that,” Lawson says, clapping a hand against my back like we’re the closest of friends. It takes a physical effort to keep my hands from bunching at the contact.
Instead, I nod briefly in his direction, watching as he turns away.
Just get through this fucking wedding, I remind myself again, swallowing the last of my champagne as I continue to stare at my target.
I don’t mean to flatter myself, but unless my eyes are deceiving me…she’s staring at me, too.
It’s only another minute before her friend turns to leave. The moment she does, I’m moving, not one to waste my opportunities.
I grab a couple of champagne flutes from a tray as I make a beeline for her, seeing her eyes light on me when I’m only steps away.
I ignore the way my pulse quickens when I come to a stop before her, forcing my most charming smile to my face.
“Some speech, huh?” I ask, arching my eyebrow in a way that I hope communicates I think anything but.
Her laugh is nervous—and fucking charming. “If you say so.”
I extend one of the flutes in her direction. “You look like you could use another.”
She glances from the drink to my face and back again, her expression measured. “And how’d you come to that conclusion?” she finally asks.
I laugh, knowing full well the effect my laughter seems to have on women. “Well, I may have been watching you.”
“I may have noticed that.”
“I know.”
She looks at me a moment more before finally relenting and reaching for the glass, a smile playing on her lips as she does.
“Alright, what the hell,” she says, taking a drink. “I’m Kristen.”
“Leo.”
“Leo…friend of the bride or groom?”
“Neither, actually.” I chuckle. “My boss kind of dragged me along.”
“Ah, a working wedding—how fun,” she teases, seeming to relax more by the second.
“My thoughts exactly. From the look of things, though, I’m starting to think there might not even be a wedding.”
“What makes you say that?”
I glance pointedly at the bride, who has abandoned her champagne glass and is giving the groom a seething look.
She follows my line of sight, smiling nonchalantly.
“Whatever it is, they’ll work it out.”
“You think?”
“I hope they don’t,” she says, surprisingly candid. She looks around like she’s making sure no one is listening. “I’ve got money on a runaway bride situation, if you know what I mean.”
She winks at me. It’s the cutest damn wink I’ve ever seen.
“You’re a gambler, then?”
“I like a good bet. The odds are fair, I think—they look like they hate each other, but they might be too stubborn to back down now.”
“I don’t know. Cold feet might trump stubborn here.”
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t know them. You’d be surprised.”
“Oh, but I know their type well enough. Trust me. They’ve probably already booked separate hotels to go back to where they can thank God for the bullet they just dodged.”
She smiles up at me, but her eyes are all challenge. Again, I feel that surge of heat, fire sparking to life between us.
I ignore it.
I have to.
“Sometimes, I play to lose,” Kristen admits. “With my luck, they’ll end up with a long, horrible marriage.”
“You sound pretty certain of yourself.”
She leans in closer, those blue eyes flashing brightly up at me. “I am.”
“Well, then,” I drawl, following her lead and leaning in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Why don’t we make this a little more interesting?”
Chapter 2
Kristen
It’s not exactly a secret that Theo and Emma have a somewhat tumultuous relationship. Their wild fights and even wilder make-ups have fed the Hamptons rumor mill for years.
And now, after evading their own wedding far past the point of being fashionably late, I’m sure the gossip will continue for years longer—if they end up getting married at all.
So, as Leo holds out his arm, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips, I can’t seem to help but take it.
If nothing else, he’s the most promising distraction I’ve seen so far.
“Alright,” I say, sliding my arm through his own. “But we have to make this quick—the wedding march will start any second, and Emma or Theo could disappear again at any time. What did you have in mind?”
He laughs, shaking his head in answer. “You’ll see.”
I fall silent as he leads me into the next room, confidently strolling up to the bar with me in tow.
“Oh, wow,” I say with mock amazement, “more alcohol. Boy, you’re sure full of surprises.”
He gives me another calculated look, raising an eyebrow as if inspecting me, an enticing half-smile pulling at his lips.
“Can I help you?” The bartender asks in a bored voice, wiping the counter with a wet rag.
“Yeah,” Leo starts, “you can fuck off.”
I’ll admit, I was not exactly expecting that.
“Excuse me?” The stunned bartender asks, his hand freezing mid-wipe.
“I can take it from here,” Leo says simply, gesturing towards the bar in general.
“I—I’m sorry,” the man tries again, “I’m not sure I understa—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Leo quips, though there’s the unmistakable hint of laughter in his voice. “Go away.”
The man hesitates a moment longer before finally getting the hint. Backing away slowly, as if Leo were a snake that might strike at any second, he rounds the bar, making a beeline for the nearest doorway.
“Okay…” I start. “I’ll play along. Why exactly did you chase off the bartender?”
He reaches for my hand and, chuckling, begins to pull me behind the bar.
At this point, I’m not sure what the fuck he’s got planned, but I feel my feet moving with him all the same.
“I thought,” he says, coming to a stop, “that we could play a little game.”
“What kind of game?”
“Think of it as—a game of chance. Interested?”
I can practically feel my eyes sparkle in response. “I might be.”
In truth, this is the most interested I’ve been all night.
While it’s not exactly something I go around broadcasting, gambling is somewhat of a hobby of mine. Or, at least, that’s how I prefer to think of it.
Somewhere near five hundred thousand in gambling debts, though, my father devised a different name for it. Specifically, addiction.
Like I said, I prefer my term.
I can’t deny, though, that the thrill of those big risks is definitely a passion of mine. And the way Leo is looking at me now—let’s just say, I sense a big risk in my future.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he says now, raking his eyes across me as a devilish grin spreads across his face.
“Okay, fine, yes.”
“Good.”
He turns away, his back facing me as he begins to pull bottles and cups from the bar.
I stand on my tiptoes, tryi
ng my level best to peer over his hulking shoulder. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Hey,” he chides, “no peeking.”
“You’re kidding me.”
He shoots a look over his shoulder, the kind of scolding expression I remember well from the face of my father. “I said: no peeking.”
Laughing, I take a step back, holding my hands out in surrender. “Fine. But this better be good.”
“Oh, it will be.”
I hear clinking glass and sloshing liquids for another minute before he finally turns back to me, a drink clenched in both hands. From what I can tell, they’re identical.
“Well?” I ask, trying to sound impatient when, really, I’m feeling pretty curious right about now.
“Alright,” he says, “so we’re gonna play ‘which drink did I just roofie’. Familiar?”
My laughter escapes in a burst; incredulous giggling overwhelming me quickly.
“Yeah, sure we are.” I say, “You have a fucking strange sense of humor.”
His laughter answers mine, the sound somehow intriguing me even more this time around.
“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!”
I open my mouth to answer the moment that the room begins to fill with guests.
Shit.
I watch the flow of the crowd, all heading towards the main hall where the actual wedding is set to take place.
Guess I don’t have as much time as I thought I did.
“I think we need to go,” I tell him, inclining my head towards the main hall. “We don’t wanna miss the main event now.”
He smiles that fucking charming smile, holding the drinks out to me.
“Game first, wedding after.”
“Oh, right, wouldn’t wanna miss my chance to get roofied. You’re a riot.” I laugh, still thinking it’s a stupid joke, but not sure I want to leave his side quite yet.
“Exactly,” he purrs, smiling down at me. “You’re not chicken, are you?”
“Oh, fuck off! Never! Hmm…” I tap my chin dramatically, “which to choose, which to choose.”
“That is the question.”
I feel his eyes on me, heavy and pressing as I play along with the little ruse. From the corner of my eye, I can see the room clearing, the last of the guests now filtering into the hall.