Chapter One
It was 10pm on a Friday night and Tyler Preston was more than ready for a drink. He’d been cooped up in the offices of Preston Insurance Inc. for the past five hours; a ‘quick’ meeting that was only supposed to last a half hour or so taking much longer than expected.
Tyler had never wanted to take over the family business. He was more interested in partying, getting drunk, fast cars, yachts and women. He knew he was a walking billionaire playboy stereotype, but he didn’t give a damn. He was young, rich, and living the dream. He didn’t have a care in the world. Well, until his father got murdered.
“Have a good weekend, Tyler.” Michael smiled as he put on his jacket, ready to leave the overheated and stuffy conference room.
“Yeah, you too,” Tyler sighed wearily.
He definitely wasn’t cut out for the business life, unlike the slightly grey haired, older gentleman he now began to walk down the corridor towards the elevator with. Michael East was probably in his fifties, maybe his late forties. Tyler couldn’t tell. Either way, he’d been working alongside his father, Trent Preston, for as long as Tyler could remember. He was the most trusted employee of PII, as well as a close family friend, and now, Tyler was trusting him to take on the running of the majority of the business. That was what the late night meeting had been about, and why it was so imperative that Tyler had to be there. Now he’d got the formalities out the way though, he was hoping to avoid having to be present in the office for as long as possible. That was why he had Michael. Michael would take care of things.
“Doing anything fun?” the man asked as they stepped into the elevator together.
Tyler checked his image in the mirror and fixed his hair back a bit. “Gonna go get a few cocktails, get drunk, party. The usual.” He was fairly sure he caught sight of Michael rolling his eyes through the glass. So, the old man didn’t approve of his lifestyle, so what. His father had always allowed him to do what he wanted, and he was going to continue in that tradition for as long as possible.
“If you ever need to talk to me…Tyler…” Michael began carefully, his voice low, taking a step towards him.
Tyler frowned slightly and put his hands cockily back in his pockets, where they usually were, thumbs tucked in, fingers flailing out and drumming lightly on his thighs.
“I know it’s not easy,” he continued softly. “To lose a parent…”
The doors pinged open on the ground floor. It was a relief to Tyler. Escape. Escape from the boring, stuffy office, and escape from Michael’s awkward conversation. Sure, the man meant well, but he just couldn’t handle that kind of chat right now.
“Have a good weekend, Michael,” he called out cheerfully as he walked out, heading straight for the automatic double doors that led him out onto the busy, bustling streets of downtown New York City, and leaving Michael to sigh quietly and sign them both out at reception before heading to his car in the underground parking lot.
Tyler didn’t bother with his car. Although he’d arrived in it and parked it up, he was planning to have more than a few drinks that night, and would be getting a cab home. He’d come to collect it in the morning.
Freedom. He smiled to himself and breathed in the sights and sounds of the city he loved, breaking out into a brisk walk and heading straight for the nightlife.
He took out his phone and checked it for messages as he walked, texting a couple of people to see whether they were coming out that night. Tyler didn’t have any ‘close’ friends, as such. Rather, he had an entire network of people he knew and interacted with. On any evening, he could be hanging out with one of around fifty young people his own age. He considered them acquaintances, not friends. He never got too close to anyone, not close enough to let them in. He was mistrustful that way. He’d learnt from experience. He was rich and always had been, and with that brought a certain amount of problems – such as the type of people who only hung out with him for his money, expecting him to pay for everything and never ever giving anything back; hangers on. Then, there were the other rich young people. Most of them were self-absorbed and arrogant – a bit like Tyler – which meant they were fun to spend time with in short doses, to flash the cash around and buy lavish bottles of champagne, but there was never anything going deeper beneath the surface. He couldn’t remember the last intelligent conversation he had with someone. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to have fun. Screw meaningful. He wanted to get drunk, and he was pretty good at doing that.
Tyler sometimes felt as though he’d visited every single bar in the city, but somehow, he always managed to find one he’d never been in before, and tonight was one of those nights. As he passed by a classy looking cocktail bar on his right, he was fairly sure he’d never seen it before. Perhaps it was new; perhaps he’d just overlooked it in an alcoholic haze; either way, it was a lively and happening place, and he wanted in.
Tyler wasn’t fussy about the type of bars and clubs he attended. Sure, he liked the expensive ones that were full of rich kids and where you could easily blow a thousand in a night, but he equally enjoyed the dirty dive bars where he could pretend to be someone he wasn’t, slip off his Rolex watch in the bathroom and leave it in his pocket, mess up his hair and just act like a regular bum. As long as somewhere had a good atmosphere, played some half decent music, and served alcohol, he was happy. And thankfully, there were a lot of those places in New York.
This place was busy, which he liked. It was obviously popular, a good sign that the cocktails were either reasonably priced or excellently made. Predictably considering the size of his wallet, Tyler didn’t care about price. He’d just as happily pay twenty bucks for a cocktail as he would five.
The music was a mix of soul and R&B, and the clientele were from all backgrounds and walks of life. Tyler liked that. It was one of the things he enjoyed about the city; the eclectic nature of the population and the welcoming vibe that he experienced in most places.
He didn’t care that he was there alone, and that none of his acquaintances had replied to his messages about whether they were coming out. Some of his best ever nights out had been when he was out on his own. That way, there was no one to tie him down, no one he felt he had to talk to or hang out with. He answered only to himself. He could mix, mingle, talk to anyone and everyone, make new acquaintances.
Tyler loved to talk. He didn’t care who it was or where they were from. He would talk to them and be friendly and chatty, especially when he’d had a few drinks. Especially girls. He definitely had a weakness for the girls, and it was rare that he went on a night out without picking one up. It wasn’t hard for him. If his natural, friendly charm didn’t do it, then he’d just casually slip out the fact that he was a billionaire, drop some hints about yachts and Ferraris and private jets. He didn’t care if that only attracted the money hungry girls; he would spoil them for the night, buy them drinks, take them for expensive food, then have them back at his place and in his bed. If he really liked them, the next morning he’d spend some more money on them, maybe take them out for breakfast, shopping, for a spin in one of his cars or on his yacht. Then, by lunchtime, he’d be bored and drained by their company and feel the desire to be on his own again. He’d make some excuse about needing to do business stuff, and dispatch them on their way, never to be called or contacted again.
Most of the time, the girls didn’t even get that far. The majority of his late night pick-ups ended up getting ejected from the house straight after sex, or first thing in the morning. Ejected is a strong word. He’d let them down gently. “Sorry babe, I really need to get some sleep now and I can’t if you’re in the bed” or, “sorry babe, you’re gonna have to leave, I’ve got a big meeting to prepare for and I need to be alone.”
The girls he liked the best were ones where he didn’t have to use any kind of line to get them to leave. They just slipped out of bed straight after sex, got dressed, and went on their way, sometimes without so much as a goodbye kiss. They were only in it for the heated, quick sex and so was he. Perfect.
That night, as always, Tyler had his eye out for the girls. First of all though, he meandered over to the bar and picked up the menu, glancing through the list of cocktails and choosing one, then he leaned over the counter to attract the attention of the girl serving.
Actually, she was pretty damn hot. Soft, olive colored skin and beautiful luscious looking hair that was tied back over her shoulders, and striking green eyes set off perfectly by her well done but not overstated make up. Her breasts were kind of nice too. Tyler allowed himself a generous look up and down her body, shamelessly checking her out as he placed his order.
“No problem, be right with you,” she said as she smiled back at him, friendly and eager to serve. Just how he liked his women.
He leaned over a bit more so he could gawk at her ass as she walked away. She was wearing the regulation uniform for the bar – a white shirt that was unbuttoned enough for him to see her cleavage, and a black mini skirt that showed off plenty of thigh, with some see-through black tights underneath and a pair of modest heels. She wasn’t slutty or over the top like some waitresses; she was just perfect.
When she returned a few minutes later with his colorful, large cocktail, he grinned at her, flashing her a set of perfect white teeth, then glanced down at her name tag.
“Thanks, Jamia,” he murmured smoothly, tossing over the money for the drink, along with a very generous tip.
She took it, paid for the drink at the computer, then tossed the extra into the tip jar. “It’s Jam-EYE-a,” she corrected him on the mispronunciation of her name. “And thank you. Have a nice evening, sir.”
“Ah please, enough of the sir,” Tyler waved his hand dismissively. “We’re all friends here. My name’s Tyler. Tyler Preston.” And at that, he stretched out his arm to offer her a handshake.
She hesitated, glancing around briefly, then smiled and took it. “Nice to meet you, Tyler.”
“Yeah, you too. In fact, the pleasure is all mine. Nobody wants to meet an asshole like me but…a pretty girl like you? I bet everyone’s clambering over each other to meet you.”
“You certainly know how to turn on the charm,” she granted him, rolling her eyes slightly and then briefly glancing him up and down.
Yeah, he saw that. She totally checked him out.
“Well,” she continued. “As much as I’d love to stand around chatting…I actually have customers to attend to, y’know?” She waved her hand in the direction of the couple of other people who were now waiting to get served, smirking at him a little as she walked away.
“See you later, Jamia!” He called to her, giving a wave and getting her name right this time.
Then he picked up his cocktail and had a sip, turning his body round to face outwards again and watch the rest of the people in the bar, whilst still occasionally shooting a glance back in her direction, keeping an eye on her as she went about her business.
He drank that first cocktail pretty quickly; partly because he’d been desperate for a drink for the past four hours, and partly because he wanted another excuse to talk to that pretty barmaid. Having checked out the rest of the talent in the bar, although there were a few good looking girls, he definitely still liked the look of that Jamia. There was something different about her. She had spark and spunk, a hint of determination and character. She wasn’t just some easy bimbo after a cheap fuck like all the others. He wasn’t sure whether that scared him, or excited him. Maybe a bit of both. Perhaps she’d be a little harder to pick up; he was intrigued by the challenge.
“Same again, please.” He smiled and offered out his old, now empty glass.
“You drank that fast.” She smiled back and took it, turning her back to him as she began to prepare the cocktail.
“Been a long day at work,” he sighed dramatically and loosened off his tie. He probably sounded like he worked hard every day, which was obviously a complete fabrication, but that was the impression he wanted to give.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“About a year now,” she replied, turning back to him and finishing off the final stages of the drink facing him so they could talk easier.
“You must enjoy it.”
“It’s money,” she shrugged and stuck a cocktail stick in his glass. “And the other staff are pretty chill.”
“That’s good. It sucks working with people you don’t get on with.”
“It really does.”
He handed over the money, giving another generous tip which she slightly raised her eyebrow to, but nonetheless went to put it in the jar.
“Why don’t you put it straight in your pocket?” He asked, leaning closer and touching her elbow, giving her a cheeky wink. “I don’t want the rest of the staff to get it, I want it to go direct to you.”
“That’s not how it works,” she smiled, dropping the money inside the big glass jar with all the rest of the dollar bills and coins. “But you can buy me a drink, if you like.”
“I would definitely like,” he grinned and stood upright, taking his thick wallet out again. “What are you having?”
“I can’t drink it till after I’ve finished my shift, but I’ll take a Sex on the Beach.”
“Will you now?” Tyler said saucily, waggling both his eyebrows at her.
Jamia snorted softly and shook her head. “I might have known you’d be the type of guy to laugh at a cocktail name.”
“Well, come on, it is pretty funny,” he held his arms up defensively. “Plus, I’m just a big kid at heart.”
“At heart? You look like a big kid. How old even are you anyway? I probably should have asked to see your ID.”
“Aw hey, come on, I’m over twenty-one.”
“Just.”
“Yeah, I’m twenty-four. How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” she admitted with a smirk.
“Ha!” He pointed at her triumphantly. “Exactly! You can’t talk, youngster. I knew there was a reason you were so gorgeous. The beauty of youth.”
She rolled her eyes again at the flirty comment, then took the money for her drink later, cashing it in. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have customers to serve. Shouldn’t you be doing something else other than standing here flirting with the staff?” She looked at him pointedly, giving him a cheeky smirk before walking off.
Immediately, Tyler liked her even more. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. Yeah, he thought, there was definitely something unique about this one. She was right though, he probably should do something other than just stand there. He took a sip of his drink and wandered off away from the bar, walking round the place, taking in some of the atmosphere, watching a couple of people grooving on the dance floor, then finding a booth in the corner to sit in, where he could be alone and out of the way, but also watch everything that was going on and feel a part of it.
He took out his phone and checked his messages, discovering that a couple of the people he usually hung out with on weekends had gone to a different club and weren’t planning to come here to meet him although they had extended the offer for him to join them. He didn’t feel like it though. He wanted to stay right where he was and push on with his plan to make Jamia fall for his charms. He wondered what she was like in bed, and idly sat there listening to the music and daydreaming.
Once he’d finished his drink, about twenty minutes later and slightly slower than the first, he went up to the bar again and ordered another, at which point Jamia told him it would have to be his last, as they were closing up in twenty minutes.
“Really?” He frowned and pulled back his suit jacket to glance at his Rolex. Well, it had been late already when he’d left the office, he thought to himself, and not everywhere had a license to open till all hours of the morning. Still, that meant he might get more chance to hit on Jamia. “What are you doing after work?” he went straight in with the question. If she hadn’t figured out he was interested already, she certainly would now.
“Going to bed,” she answered bluntly.
Tyler smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yep,” she popped the ‘p’ and took the money off him for his last drink. “Alone.”
Tyler mock gasped and looked horrified. “Surely not! A pretty girl like you should never have to sleep alone. What the hell is your boyfriend thinking of?!”
Jamia laughed a little and rolled her eyes – for probably the fifth time that night. “Your pick up lines are terrible. I’m not sure how you ever get any girls.”
“I’m not sure either but…some of them seem to like it,” he mumbled, some of the cockiness going as he shrugged a bit. “The stupid ones anyway. But…you’re not stupid, are you?”
“Nah, not much. One sec.” She darted off to serve someone else, the bar starting to get busier as people realized the place was closing soon and wanted to get one last drink in before they were asked to leave.
Tyler stayed at the bar, sipping his drink, and Jamia soon came back, leaning on her elbows and this time happily talking to him.
“You can have that drink now, can’t you?” he asked, nodding at the gradually emptying bar.
“Well…I’d better wait a few more minutes. My boss is lurking around here somewhere.”
“Fair enough. I’d like to stay and watch you drink it though.”
“Why? Do you have a fetish for watching girls drink cocktails? Is that like, your kink?” she teased him.
“No, no…” He blushed a bit and shook his head, chuckling. “I just want an excuse to spend more time with you.”
“Wow, you really are the charmer, aren’t you? Do you do this with all the bar girls?”
“Nah, just the hot ones. Actually, mostly I’m interested in the girls IN the bar rather than the ones behind it, but…this is an exception.”
“Well, no offence but…I don’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost. I’m not that kinda girl.”
Tyler laughed. “What does that even mean…don’t be so old fashioned. We’re young, we can have fun, right? Or are you…into love and all that bullshit?”
The music had been turned down quieter now, in preparation for throwing people out at the end of the night, and it was easier for them to talk as a result, no longer having to shout.
“You don’t believe in love?” She raised an eyebrow, then slowly began to make the drink he’d bought her earlier while they continued to talk.
“Nah. Do you?”
“Yeah, of course. My parents were in love. Weren’t yours?”
“I dunno. I never asked them,” Tyler shrugged nonchalantly.
“Maybe you should,” she gave him a small, encouraging smile.
“Well hey, get me a Ouija board and we’ll have a go,” he cracked a joke, sneering slightly and downing the last of his cocktail.
Jamia gasped, her eyes widening. “Oh my gosh, I’m...”
“It’s fine,” he grinned and waved a hand. “Yeah, my folks are dead, it’s not a big deal, it happens.”
“Yeah, I know but…it still sucks,” she frowned, then added quietly, “My mom’s dead so…I kinda know how it feels.”
Tyler nodded and looked down at his fingernails, his arms rested upon the bar. He wasn’t used to this kind of emotional conversations and it made him feel awkward as hell, but now he couldn’t think of anything to say to break them out of it.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Jamia’s boss came out from the backroom and called her over to help the other staff collect up the glasses. Then he came over to count up the cash drawer and Tyler turned away to give some privacy, taking out his phone and pretending he was doing something on it.
“You’re gonna have to leave now, sir,” Jamia’s boss announced, leaning over to Tyler a bit. “We’re closed.”
“Oh uh…” Tyler turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, I know, I’m just…waiting for Jamia. I’m giving her a ride home tonight.”
“Oh right.” He seemed surprised for a moment, then nodded in agreement and dropped the issue, Tyler’s little lie buying him more time to stay in the bar.
When Jamia returned, he leaned over and quickly told her what he’d told the boss, just so she could continue the ruse and not drop him in it.
“You said what?” She stared at him, not seeming very impressed. “Do you make a habit of lying to get what you want?”
“Now and again,” Tyler admitted, pushing a stray strand of hair back off his forehead. “It’s only a little white lie.”
“A little?” She scoffed, going round the other side of the bar and now actually picking up the drink she’d made for herself earlier, the Sex on the Beach. “You’re not giving me a ride home.”
“I know. I don’t even have my car with me.”
She smirked and shook her head. “You little liar. Plus, I have my own car with me. I always do.”
“That’s…probably why your boss looked at me that way.”
“Yeah, probably. He clearly believed you though so, well done, you haven’t been thrown out.” She took a sip of her drink and looked at him over the rim.
“And you’re still talking to me. I’d consider that a success.”
“Surely it’s only a success if you get me in your bed,” she raised an eyebrow. “Which, by the way, is not going to happen.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that, babe,” Tyler smirked.
Jamia chuckled and drank some more of her cocktail. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not often,” Tyler leaned his elbows up against the bar and looked at her. “So…what are you actually doing after work?”
“I told you. I’m going home to bed. Alone. Unlike you, I wasn’t lying.”
“Are you seriously? But it’s only midnight. And it’s the weekend.”
“Yeah, and I have work in the morning.”
“On a Saturday? In a bar?” He looked at her in disbelief.
“I have more than one job, you know. It happens. Some people have to work hard for a living unlike you rich guys.”
“How do you know I’m rich?” He chuckled.
She looked him up and down. “Oh come on. It’s not that hard. You come in here with your Armani suit on, spending twelve bucks on a cocktail and tipping eight bucks a time. Plus, you wear a Rolex.”
Tyler nodded slowly, impressed. “Very observant.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty good at that kinda stuff,” Jamia shrugged and finished off the rest of her drink, turning round and stacking it with the other dirty glasses, the whole bar pretty much tided up now, and empty of customers aside from Tyler. “Well,” she announced when she turned back round. “Your time’s up, buddy. I’m going, and so should you. And not together.”
Tyler smirked and shook his head. She’d definitely played this game well, but he wasn’t prepared to give up on the chase just yet. “Could I get some kinda receipt? For all the drinks I’ve had tonight.”
She sighed slightly, probably knowing he was being difficult on purpose, but she nodded and hit a few buttons on the computer, printing him out a paper receipt a second or so later before tearing it off and giving it to him.
But Tyler didn’t slip it into his pocket. Instead, he flipped it over onto the back, grabbed a pen off the counter and began to scribble something down.
Jamia leaned in out of interest. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you my number. You know you’re gonna want to call me in the morning.”
“Am I now?”
“Yep.” He smirked and handed it across to her. To his delight, she folded it in half and put it into her pocket.
“We’ll see about that,” she murmured, smiling as she shook her head at him and turned away. “Goodnight Tyler Preston.”
He was surprised and impressed that she remembered his full name but, if anything, it was even more of a turn on. “Goodnight Jamia.”
And that was that. At least, for the time being. Tyler decided not to go on and meet his acquaintances at the club. After a few cocktails and such a long night at the office, he discovered he was actually pretty tired, so he went back home to crash, hailing a cab and getting a surprisingly early night, made even more surprising by the fact that he wasn’t bringing a random girl home with him.
Less than twenty minutes across town, however, the situation was very different for Tyler’s oldest and most competitive business rival.