Drunk on you: A Possessive Billionaire & BBW Beach Romance (Sundown Whisper’s Island Book 1) Read online

  She shakes her head, muttering to herself. “Hello, Mom, indeed! One week without a word from you and that wayward brother of yours, and that’s all I get!”

  I take a seat at the head of the table and smirk at her. “We talked yesterday, Mom…”

  She scoffs. “You know that texts don’t count and phone calls barely cut it.”

  Since she has been in Florida, she got it in her head that only FaceTime counts toward her quota of mother/sons conversations.

  I look heavenward. “Hence me just video-calling you, Mom.”

  She purses her lips, but I can see she is fighting a smile, she likes to give me a hard time and nag, but we both know it’s just for show.

  “And it’s a good thing you did, Son. I have so much to tell you!”

  I sigh. “Just don’t make this ‘so much’ be a list of possible girlfriends and I’ll be all ears.”

  She dismisses my words with a flourish of her hand. “Ha! You make it sound like I spend my every waking moment trying to set you or Weston up!”

  I rise both eyebrows at that. “And you don’t?”

  She huffs. “Of course I don’t, Damon: if I did, you’d be both working on a second baby each already, but you won’t let me!”

  I grumble to myself. “Ma’, I don’t have time for this.”

  She gestures around as if to call some invisible audience’s attention to my words.

  “See? That’s what I meant: you have no compassion for a poor mother’s heart!”

  I cover my eyes with the palm of my hand. “Not the poor mother’s heart thing again, Mom, I beg you!”

  “Fine…”

  She lets go of this long-suffering sigh and I see her taking a sip of some Pepto-Bismol pink and fluorescent yellow icy concoction from a glass that it’s nearly suffocating under about a dozen tiny colorful umbrellas.

  I know for a fact, no bartender of ours would ever serve something so crass and cheap-looking to our guests, so I can only imagine how much she had to pester some poor unlucky bastard to put this hideous-looking beverage together.

  “Isn’t it a bit early to have a cocktail, Ma’?”

  She gives me one of her patented icy glares, I’ve seen grown-ass men shake under her stare no matter the fact that she’s all of 5.3, but it never works on me or Wes ‘cause we know she’s a softy underneath all of it.

  “Am I not a bit old to be subjected to your parenting, dear? If you want to be a forbidding dad, hurry up and make me a grandma.”

  I ease back into my swiveling chair. “Can I ever win with you?”

  “Not happening, darling, just give up. Now, listen…”

  I brace myself because I know that whenever she says those two words together, she’s about to go on a tangent that will end with me being late to my meeting after having agreed to some piece of ridiculousness I don’t want to do, without knowing how or why and my brother being supremely pissed at me because he always gets included by default.

  “I have to say everything is coming along just fine here. You should see this place: no one acts like they’re working and– no! Don’t get that fastidious look, Damon, I don’t mean to say they aren’t actually working, because they are.

  God knows if they aren’t! They are walking about like busy bees all day long without ever stopping, but you know that saying or something, right? That if you love what you do for a living, then you don’t work a single day of your life… well, that’s what’s going on here. All the staff loves this place and every one looks as if they’re vacationing here instead of working: they’re relaxed, happy, eager to take care of everything…”

  “Mom, I—”

  “I tell you, it’s an utter joy for the eyes!”

  Well, I had to at least try and cut in, right?

  “…I myself have never felt more relaxed and at peace in my life! Why your dad, God rest his soul, would have loved it here, oh! He would be so proud of his two boys, so, so, proud and I am too, you know… even if you barely call nowadays… your uncle is always full of praise for you, he says my boys are bloodthirsty sharks in the Boardroom, but always polite, it makes a mother’s proud to know that you are owning that place and making those old curmudgeons shake in their boots… but anyway, I digress…”

  “Do you? I didn’t notice…”

  She just pays me no heed.

  “Well, like I was saying, I am loving staying here and I can’t wait to have you both here with me… you both need to take it easy. Why, you’re only thirty-seven and I don’t like your blood pressure rate one bit, mister! And that brother of yours always hitting the gym the little time he’s not working and still waking up at four a.m. like he’s still in the Army…”

  I frown. “How do you even know this stuff, Mom?”

  She gives me a look like ‘are you shitting me?’ and goes on unperturbed. “And when was the last time you had a date?”

  I groan. Here we go. Maybe I can lie? “A month ago…”

  She glares at me. “A month ago! I wish! It’s been two years and three months, Son! Not that I can blame you: you never leave Manhattan and what do you have there? Nothing but a nest of giant Barbie dolls, hussy vipers one and all!”

  She must have spies all over the fucking place.

  Still, I cannot fault her description of the available fare.

  “And your brother! My poor baby has gone without even longer!”

  I just drop my face on my arm, I’m gonna pretend here that she’s talking about female companionship in general, because if she’s talking about sex, I’m gonna call security, ask one of my men for a gun and shoot myself.

  “Ma’, he’s thirty-five-year-old and can dismantle and put back together an M4 in forty-five seconds for God’s sake: he is not a baby.”

  She gives me an indignant look, hand on her chest and all. “Of course he is and so are you! Wanna stop being my babies? Gimme grandchildren!”

  “Damn, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

  She smiles smugly. “Yes you did, Damon, and please don’t swear: it’s so unbecoming! Anyway, like I was saying… I’m really loving it here, though the humidity is rather nasty, not that I feel a thing in my suite, but ugh! Walking around in this beastly heat is vexing, but at least I don’t have to play nice with all those high society socialites trying to foist their good-for-nothing daughters on my children here! Why, I am having so much fun, didn’t I tell you? No one suspects my identity here. I could never get away with it in New York! Though, of course, I had to tell Adele the truth, as you know. You do remember Adele Montgomery, don’t you, Son?”

  I nod along, sitting up again as I mumble a ‘yeah’.

  She decided to stay at the resort incognito, so only Ms. Montgomery, who is the resort in-house interior decorator and party planner, and a few upper-level managers know that she’s not a simple exec, but in fact, the matriarch of the Broderick’s dynasty.

  “I can’t wait for you to see what we did with the décor! Why, the teak furnishing and the floral arrangements alone could— oh, but I won’t spoil the surprise for you with a description. Just let me tell you, Adele and I have become fast friends and she is doing an amazing job here… the party planning is coming along nicely too! She has this wonderful assistant, Calista, who is working so tirelessly to bring things about, such a precious young woman! I don’t know if I mentioned her already, she’s—”

  “You have, Mom. Several times in fact.”

  “Oh have I? It did quite escape me. Old age and all… anyway, Son, now that we’re talking about her, I have to tell you, she is such a pretty little thing and so very accomplished too! And she’s not one of those praying mantis skinny ladies either, she’s a real woman with real curves to boot!”

  Wonderful.

  I shake my head in mortification. I can’t even—

  “Mom, knock it off, alright?!”

  She innocently looks down at her manicured nails. “Oh very well, I was thinking
she’s more your brother’s type anyway.”

  Poor bastard.

  She tuts at me. “And what is it with this attitude of yours, anyway? No need to raise your voice, you know? Especially not with your mama… I’m not one of those snakes shareholders you need to put in their places. How are you going to catch a nice girl if you are always so brusque? Take it easy and smile more, Damon… that’s what you need to do. Then again, all that growling you do, some girls might like that too! Alpha males are all the rage these days…”

  And… headache.

  “Mother, really! I’m glad you’re having fun and meeting… people, but I did call you for a reason…”

  She smiles big. “Oh you did? Have you met someone?”

  I groan, throwing my hands up. “Mom, can you come off the matchmaking train for a second? I need your help with something.”

  She immediately goes serious in the face and puts away her brightly colored cocktail. “What is it, Damon?”

  “You know that I needed to come down there to pick a PA right about now to fill in for Jackson, right?”

  She nods with a sigh. “You can’t make it.”

  “Yeah… too many meetings and reports to go over. So I was about to ask you if you could take care of it for me.”

  She smiles. “Say no more. I’m on it! I’ll have HR write about the opening immediately and I’ll start interviewing tomorrow at the latest.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I do have a couple of conditions you will have to keep in mind.”

  She slaps both hands on the edge of the table sitting in front of her. “Let me guess: young, pretty…”

  I huff out a breath. “Remember that thing about my blood pressure, Mother?! You’re not helping with it. No young and pretty nothings, my two stipulations are that this PA needs to be a male and he needs to have experience.”

  She snorts. “And can’t he be young and pretty? What is the harm in having some little eye candy in the office for when I drop by?”

  “I’m about to vomit.”

  She cackles. “Really! Such delicate sensibilities! But, Damon, all jokes aside: I know exactly what you need. I’ll find you an assistant as good as Jackson, you’ll see. There’s just one small thing…”

  “What?”

  “You want a male PA and I will hire you one, darling, but we can’t very well have HR draft a job ad that screams sexual discrimination in such a blunt way. Why, that move would be a category lawsuit just waiting to happen, aside from being bad publicity for the conglomerate.”

  I sigh. “Very well, Mom, have them open a position that doesn’t mention anything about the sex of the applicants and only focuses on their experience, just make sure you pick a guy in the end, alright?”

  She smiles. “All clear, Son. You can count on me.”

  “Okay, thanks, Mom.”

  Crap, I so don’t have a good feeling about this.

  I glance down at my smartwatch. “Mom, I’m gonna have to leave you or I’ll be late for my meeting. Call me when you have details on this.”

  “I will. Love you, Son.”

  “Me too. I gotta go now,” I say, standing up.

  She also stands up and the picture of her face shakes in the frame and turns into a close-up as she picks her tablet up from the counter.

  “And Damon, dear, do remind your little brother that he too has a mother, will you?”

  “I will, I will! Enough with the guilt, Mom! I’ll talk to you soon!”

  We say our goodbyes and I hurriedly finish the call, before she can find something else to torment me about just as Weston’s bulk darkens the doorway in a sweaty tank and loose shorts.

  “Hey, Wes, did you have a good run?” I ask.

  He gives me a curt nod.

  His PTSD is pretty much under control these days, but sometimes being around people and dealing with all the trappings of his position become too much for him and he starts to feel overwhelmed and nervous and needs to go for a run so, despite us being still in office hours, seeing him in his workout clothes is not unusual around here.

  “The meeting is about to start,” I remind him.

  He looks down at himself. “Shit.”

  I smile. “Don’t worry, go hit the shower, I’ll cover for you if someone asks.”

  “Thanks, Bro. Were you talking to mom just now?” he asks.

  I nod, following him out of the conference room.

  He makes a face. “Did you ask her?”

  I nod again.

  He gives me a shit-eating grin, eyes as green as our mother and just as cunning, making fun of me. “Did she give you a hard time? She knows she’s picking a PA and not a wife, right?”

  I sigh, shaking my head and he laughs.

  “Glad I can provide amusement. Oh and by the way, she was again harping on about that interior assistant chick, didn’t catch her name… allegedly she is just perfect for you.”

  My brother’s smile drops.

  I slap his shoulder, chuckling. “Expect to hear about her when you call mom tonight.”

  Weston groans. “Tonight?”

  “Oh yeah, little brother. We are horrible children it seems: apparently it’s been eons since you gave her a real call.”

  He grumbles an oath under his breath, the fingers of one hand grazing his perennial stubble. “Fucking perfect. Just what I needed to conclude such a shitty day: mom’s matchmaking and a good dose of guilt!”

  We both cringe at that and laugh.

  “Think how much more of both of those we’re gonna get while we’re in Florida.”

  He nods. “I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna be a vacation to remember.”

  Can’t say I don’t agree.

  Chapter 2

  ELLIE

  I hear the annoyingly familiar ring of my VoIP phone go off and my stomach drops as I look at the screen of my huge computer, my fingers gripping the edge of the polished dark wood desk.

  One ring.

  I look at the time on the upper corner of the computer screen. It’s nine a.m. I’ve been in shift two hours and it feels like two days have gone by.

  Two rings.

  I try to recall what number this call is going to be, but I can’t. It could be anywhere between forty-five and sixty. We are a ‘little’ overworked on this floor.

  Three rings.

  Ugh, man, how I wish I could simply ignore it, rip my stupid headset off and walk out of my tiny cubicle!

  I click on the phone’s overlay that popped on the screen and answer the call, trying to put a smile in my voice even if I hate every minute of this.

  The call has been just dropped on me straight from the customer with no in-between consultant.

  Since the number of my department can’t be reached from outside the company, meaning no customer could have placed this call directly, this tells me two things: one, somewhere there’s a level-one consultant that just got an earful from the person I have on the other side of the line and freaked out so much, they just transferred the call without having the balls to talk to me first, and two, this customer is going to be a nightmare for me even more so than they were for the coward who just dropped this on me, ‘cause now they are going to be even more pissed for being kept on hold God knows how long and then bounced around.

  “Hello, this is Ellie from the customer service tech department. How may I help you today?” I ask, bracing myself for the inevitable.

  From the other side of the line I hear just a long-suffering, pissed-off sigh that makes me gulp and then the yelling starts.

  No introduction, no explaining what their issue is, nothing.

  Just a guy piercing my eardrums and calling me every kind of bad name on the dictionary in an enraged barking voice.

  Now, if this was any other job, any other place on earth I will be giving this rude jerk a piece of my mind and then hang up on him, but here at Cyber Pear Tech the customer is always right, even when their demands make absolutely
no sense or they are just in the mood to call up customer service to yell at people.

  Here we get to follow ‘the steps’ and sound like complete doormats and morons in the process and if we diverge from the script, man oh man… that’s when the shit hits the proverbial fucking fan big time, ‘cause it’s perfectly acceptable for some stranger to call me an incompetent idiotic slut for no reason whatsoever, but if I tell them to fuck off, even politely, I get a report all about it later.

  Did I mention I fucking hate this job?

  But alas, I need to pay the bills so I keep my voice low even if my hands are shaking and with the stupid fake smile in my voice I do step one.

  “Sir, please do calm down. Here at Cyber Pear Tech your concerns are our conce—”

  “I don’t give a fuck, you stupid cow! I don’t want to hear a thing! I want you to solve my issue and I want to get off this fucking phone ASAP!”

  Step two.

  “Sir, please refrain from swearing. I understand how frustrating this is for you and I’m more than willing to help, but I can’t if you don’t explain what your issue is first.”

  To this he just answers with a high-pitched breathless string of profanities.

  Step three.

  “Sir, once again, I must ask you to refrain from—”

  “Fuck off, you bitch! I’m gonna swear if I want to. I’ve been on this fucking phone dealing with you brainless assholes for forty-five minutes already and now you’re asking me to lose another half an hour of my life explaining shit I’ve repeated ten times already to the morons I spoke with before you. What the fuck!”

  Step four. Attempt to reason with the crazy person. Yet again.

  “I’m very sorry you were kept waiting, sir, I will try to—”

  “Of course you’re sorry, you fucking dimwitted twit! I bet this is the only job you could find, isn’t it? Let’s see if you understand this: either you solve my issue now, or I’m going to call my lawyer and you’ll speak with him!”

  I roll my eyes.

  Step five.

  “Sir, I’m not allowed to discuss legal matters over the phone. If you want, I can transfer you to our customer relation and complaints department and then they can—”