Page 1 of The Billionaire's Fortunate Accident
Chapter One
Stone
The powerful beat of Lil Jon and DJ Snake’s “Turn Down for What” moved through the nightclub like an invisible wave on an ever-moving ocean. And there I was, right in the middle of it all, fists pounding the air above my head, shoulders bumping against those of my buddies, mouth wide open and shouting the words along with the tracks the DJ was playing for us.
Not a care in the world.
I’d just turned twenty-seven. The number sounded magical to me. No longer a young man in his early twenties, I was now considered to be in my mid- to late-twenties. Somehow, that just sounded cooler to me, more mature.
But this was no typical birthday for me. The day had started with me spending time at the resort my older brothers and I owned in Austin, Texas. I’d been pampered by the spa staff — a pedi and mani, of course, plus a deep tissue massage that left me feeling like I was lying on a bed made of clouds.
A perfect way to start my birthday.
Whispers Resort and Spa was the best thing that had ever happened to my brothers and me. It had opened up all five of our lives in ways we’d never expected. Only, my brother all had found their callings relatively easily, while I was still working on finding mine.
As a trained chef, my brother expected me to open a restaurant within the resort. But I still hadn’t found the type of food I wanted to serve to our esteemed guests.
In my defense, coming up with a menu wasn’t easy when we served food to such distinguished clientele. People came from around the world to check out the resort. Important people. Dignitaries, famous singers and musicians, actors and actresses, senators, congressmen, and even the president himself had visited our resort.
Anyone would’ve felt the pressure to be perfect — to serve only the most perfect food. We already had one restaurant, Essence, which had garnered a Micheline star. We’d also had one restaurant fail, while one other one was doing just okay.
I didn’t want to fail or be just okay. I wanted to give Essence a run for its money. The only problem with doing something like that was that my brothers thought that might not be the best for business. So, I had to design a menu that did not have a single thing similar to anything on Essence’s diverse menu.
Complicated, I know.
One of the guys in our group came bouncing in with another round of beers. “You got the next round, Stone.”
Nodding, I took one of the beers and gulped down the first half. “You bet, Terry.”
Mike looked in one direction as a group of ladies danced their way toward us. “Incoming. I got the redhead.”
“I’ll take any of the blondes,” Terry informed us.
“Five of them, five of us,” Monty added.
One of the lovely ladies had her dark eyes on me. Long, dark hair cascaded down to a teeny tiny waist. I was sure she must have had worn a waist-trainer for her to be that thin. Her v-neck cropped sweater made her huge breasts stand out. They were too full, too perfect, and that meant they were completely fake.
She wiggled her extremely round ass in front of me as if to entice me to grind on it, so I did as she expected, finding it as firm as concrete.Geeze, this is fake, too!
My generation — one of supreme fakery — wasn’t to my liking. I’d take a natural waist, bust, and ass any day over a bunch of fake shit.
Turning her head, she looked back at me with the longest, lushest, darkest eyelashes that I’d ever seen. “You’re good, boy.”
A nod was the best I could do as I took her waist in my hands, pulling her closer to me. Grinding her fake ass harder, I felt the wet heat coming from underneath her extremely short skirt. Her six-inch heels compensated for her short stature, making her ass level with my groin area.
Again, I started thinking about my generation and the utter lack of any real dance moves. We jumped up and down. We simulated sex on the dancefloor. We even swayed back and forth in unison. But we never made any graceful moves. We never actually danced.
Maybe it was because it was my birthday and I’d become another year older — I didn’t know for sure — but I wasn’t feeling the same vibes I usually felt when I was out with my friends. I didn’t usually fall into existential contemplation while dancing groin to ass with a complete stranger.
Whatever my problem was, I knew one sure way of curing it. “I’m going for another round.” Letting go of the girl’s waist, I left her ass swinging on its own — I don’t think she even realized I’d walked away.
Moving through the thick crowd, I finally made it to one of the bars and found a free seat, a rare accomplishment. Taking it, I held up one finger to signal to the bartender.
Bouncing over to me, the sassy young woman asked, “What can I get ya, handsome?”
“Drunk,” I let her know.
“Got ya.” She turned around, grabbed a short glass then filled it up with various alcohols. Placing it in front of me, she said, “Texas Tea, sans ice. It’s strong and dangerous. But I’m sure a man of your muscular stature can handle this little ol’ drink.”
