Chapter 1
A tune played, and somewhere in the back of Meg’s mind, she recognized it. It was a song she liked. Wait. It was her ringtone.
Her phone was ringing, and she needed to answer it. She rolled over and regretted it when her head felt like it split open. Ouch. What had happened last night? She hadn’t had anything other than soda to drink, had she? She wracked her brain, trying to remember.
She’d been out with Victoria and Steph. They’d had some fun, but she hadn’t had alcohol. Right? Because she knew better. Alcohol and she didn’t mix well. And she definitely didn’t need another fiasco like last time.
The tune stopped. Had she not found her phone yet? Maybe it would help if she opened her eyes. She squinted in the morning light. Then she blinked. Then panic hit.
This wasn’t her room.
Where was she? She wildly scanned the place, looking for a clue as to where she was. It looked like a hotel room. A really fancy hotel room, with a beach view. Had she gone somewhere last night?
Then recognition dawned on her, and she moaned. Yes. Victoria had convinced her they needed a girl’s night out. They’d taken her father’s jet to the Cayman Islands and booked a room at her favorite resort, the Billionaire Club.
But where had Victoria and Steph gone? Her phone rang again, and this time she spotted it on the desk across the room amid a mess of cosmetics. She stood and instantly regretted the decision when lightning zapped around in her head.
The music kept going, and she knew she had to answer. She staggered across the room and picked up her phone in the pink, diamond-studded case. Why was her makeup all over the desk? It looked like a child had come in and played with it, ruining everything.
Heat flashed through her as she looked at who was calling. It was her father’s assistant, Shelby.
Seriously? She wanted to throw the phone, but it would only keep ringing, so she slid the bar and answered. “Hello?”
“What kind of drugs did you do last night?” Her words came out clipped. Mean. Like always.
Meg loathed everything about Shelby, and this didn’t help at all. “I didn’t do drugs last night. All I had was a Dr. Pepper.”
“Then maybe you can explain why I’m watching a video of you making a fool of yourself.”
Shelby’s words caused her mouth to dry, and her hands shook. “What?”
“You haven’t seen it? Heavens, girl, what is wrong with you?”
Meg might have been offended at that question if she’d been paying any attention, but she barely heard it. Her throat constricted, and she couldn’t get any air in her lungs. She hung up the phone, too distraught to deal with Shelby. And that’s when she caught her reflection in the mirror.
She gasped and clutched at her throat. Lipstick covered her mouth like a mad clown, a long line of it stretching out to the side, making her look like a serial killer. The rest of her face was a mess of mascara, eyeshadow, and blush, but not always in the right places. What the heck had happened last night?
Meg ran to the bathroom, suddenly sick to her stomach. After retching and tossing up everything she’d eaten in the last week, she sat on the bathroom floor and put her head in her hands. Shelby had said there was a video.
How could that be? She swore she hadn’t taken anything. Even when Victoria had insisted, Meg had refused any alcohol. Right? Or had they worn her down? A deep foreboding filled her as she grabbed her phone and searched her name.
And that’s when she saw it. The thirty-minute video Victoria and Steph had taped of her obviously on something. They were giggling and encouraging her to make a tutorial about putting on makeup.
Meg grew sick and threw up again. They must have convinced her to take something. How? She was so adamant she was never going to do that again. How could they have done this to her? She’d trusted them.
She couldn’t breathe. This was so much worse than last time. Thirty minutes of her embarrassing herself, and it already had over a million views. Her friends did this to her. Friends? Yeah, right. She’d been so naive. They weren’t her friends at all.
Shaking, Meg forced herself up and rummaged through her things until she found her makeup remover. It took fifteen minutes to get the junk off, and another half hour to shower and make herself look half-way decent.
Her makeup was totally ruined, so she couldn’t put any on. She hoped the large sunglasses she had would conceal that fact.
A wave of chest pain rose as she packed her things. What would happen when she left the room? Would anyone recognize her? Would she be mobbed like last time?
Her heart began to race, and she took in a calming breath. She was fine. She’d dealt with the paparazzi her whole life, being the daughter of Samuel Jordan, the famous actor. They were always lurking around the corner, ready to jump out and snap a photo of her. But she’d never had any problems at the Billionaire Club. It was hidden away on Grand Cayman, and exclusive enough that the paparazzi couldn’t get in. And most of the clientele here didn’t want to be bothered, so the likelihood of anyone approaching her was slim.
But eventually, she would have to go out into public.
Her phone rang again, this time with her father’s ringtone. Oh, crap. He only called when he was furious. She tossed the last of her things into her suitcase and zipped it shut. Then she answered her phone.
“Daddy?”
“How could you have done this again, Meg? I thought you’d learned your lesson. Where are you?”
Tears stung her eyes as she tried to blink them back. Why was it always her fault? Didn’t it even cross his mind that maybe someone had done this to her? Manipulated her until they got what they wanted? “It was Victoria,” she said, lamely trying to explain what happened.
“Where are you?” he repeated. He didn’t even care what happened. All he wanted to do was call and yell.
“Grand Cayman.”
He swore, and she flinched. “This is unacceptable, Megara.”
Oh, no. He was wielding her full name. So not good. “I’m sorry,” she said, resorting to begging him for mercy. “It won’t happen anymore.” She knew it wouldn’t because she was never going to trust anyone ever again.
“I’m tired of this. I don’t know what to do with you.”
She knew what he should do. Hide her away for a while. Her mind started reeling. Why was she packing up and leaving? She was in the best hideaway spot she knew. She could stay out here until the story blew over, and people didn’t care about it anymore.
The more she thought, the better she liked the idea. “Maybe I need a vacation.”
“Your whole life has been a vacation.” He sounded like he was outside. The wind whistled in her ear.
“What does that mean?”
“You need to learn to stand on your own two feet. I’ve coddled you.”
Coddled her? What was he talking about? He was never around. Maybe the nanny pampered her. But not him. “Please, I just need a week or two—”
“Megara,” he said, his voice firm. “You have to get yourself out of this mess. I’m not going to do this any longer. It’s time you learned how to handle life.”
This sounded bad. She shifted her weight, staring out the glass patio door. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“No. I’ve made up my mind. You’re cut off.”
Cut off? Like, from everything? Her panic heightened, and she couldn’t breathe again. “What?”
“You’re on your own. I’m canceling your credit cards. No more using my private jet. I’m done enabling you.”
Her credit cards? The jet? Was he insane? “How will I get home?”
“You’re going to have to get a job.”
A job? She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even think straight as tears sprang to her eyes. “Daddy, I—”
“I’m sorry I have to go. I hope you know I’m doing this for your own good. I love you. Good-bye.” Her father hung up, and she stood there, listening to a dead phone.
Meg gasped for air as her world crumbled around her. No credit cards? No jet? And now she was stranded in a foreign country? How could her father do this to her?
Could this day get any worse?
***
Gripping the wrench, Austin eased himself down the step, feeling like a grandpa even though he was only twenty-seven. The weather was gorgeous, as it always was in the Cayman Islands in May. The stone path that led to the other side of the resort took him by the swimming pool and hot tub, and past the beautiful garden area.
A twinge shot through his knee, and he slowed. It was stupid, really. He was one of the highest-paid football players in the NFL. He really should be able to handle a couple of stairs. But during his last game, he’d zigged when he should have zagged and ended up on the wrong side of 300 pounds of muscle. He’d torn his meniscus. Badly.
Kay, the owner of the resort, came around the corner. Her red hair was pulled back into a bun, even though some strands wouldn’t be tamed and stuck out at crazy angles. She looked at him and tisked. “Austin, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting. Recovering. Why are you on this side of the resort?”
“303 has a leaky faucet. Mrs. Hubbard was going to file a formal complaint, but I told her I’d fix it. It just needs a tiny bit of tightening, that’s all.” He gave Kay what he hoped was an innocent smile.
“Stop that. You go back to your lounge chair. You just had surgery, for heaven’s sake.” She reached for the wrench, but Austin whisked it behind his back.
“Not just. Two weeks ago. I’m going stir crazy, ma’am. I need something to do, or I’m going to die of boredom. You don’t want my death on your conscience, do you?”
Kay frowned at him. “You really know how to fix it?”
“Yes.”
“And it will only take a second?”
“Yes.”
“All right, fine. But I’m paying you for it. And then you’re going back to relaxing and recovering. The last thing I need is to have the famous Austin Scott reinjure his knee on my resort, making it my fault that he can’t return to play for the Los Angeles Demons.” Kay made a face, and Austin laughed.
“All right. I promise to go back to pretending to be a lump on a log after I get Mrs. Hubbard’s faucet all fixed up.”
“You’d better.” She frowned. “You know, most people would love a nice, relaxing, three-week vacation.”
“Would they like that relaxing vacation alone, with a bum knee so they couldn’t go anywhere or do anything?”
Kay slowly nodded. “Yeah, all right. I get it. Go fix the faucet. You can return the wrench to me at the front desk.” She lowered her voice. “But don’t tell anyone I made Austin Scott fix a sink here. I’d get BETTER WORD HERE.”
He chuckled. “My lips are sealed.” He headed down the path, feeling like a pirate with a peg leg.
A woman emerged from one of the rooms. She had on enormous sunglasses and a large, floppy hat. It was almost comical. She obviously didn’t want anyone to recognize her. Probably some famous socialite trying to get a break from publicity. He understood the feeling.
She glanced behind her, then hurried down the path toward Austin, holding her hat in place. As she walked, she kept looking behind her. He wondered who she was trying to avoid. Unfortunately, as she neared, he could tell she hadn’t seen him. And one more glance behind her was all it took for her to run smack into his chest.
The woman bounced off him, fell backward, and landed on her behind, her hat flying. “Oh!” she called out as the wind caught the hat, sending it up into the air.
“I’m sorry,” Austin said, reaching up and snatching the hat back. “I hope you didn’t get hurt.”
The woman looked up at him, and even with her sunglasses on, he could tell she’d been crying. He could see the dried tear tracks down her cheeks. She took the hat from him but didn’t stand. He held out his hand. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and took his hand, letting him help her up. “Yeah,” she said, brushing herself off. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“That’s okay.” He was curious why she’d been upset, but didn’t want to be creepy or stalkerish by saying, “Hey, I noticed you were crying. Is everything okay in your life?” So instead, he just motioned with the wrench. “I’m on my way to 303 to fix a faucet.”
He cringed. She didn’t care about that. Why was he rambling?
The woman pointed behind her. “It’s that way.” She hesitated. “Are you new here?”
New here? He wasn’t sure what she was asking. He’d been there for two weeks. And this wasn’t his first visit to the resort. “No.”
She took off the sunglasses, and he immediately recognized her. Megara Jordan. And socialite was an understatement. She was always in the news for her wild behavior and massive money-spending habits. He stepped back, shocked to see her in such a state. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and she had no makeup on.
She bit her lower lip. “Who would I talk to about getting a job here? I’m kind of desperate.”
He couldn’t have been more shocked if she had said, “Please hold my hat, I need to take off my head and see if I have any brains left.”
His mouth opened and closed a few times. “Kay, the owner,” he finally managed to say.
Megara nodded, her large eyes blinking back moisture. “Okay. Thank you. I’m so glad I ran into a maintenance worker. You’ve been very helpful.”
Maintenance worker? Austin almost laughed. This woman wasn’t into football, apparently. He almost corrected her, but Megara had already slid her sunglasses back into place and replaced her large, floppy hat. “Thanks,” she said as she rushed past him.
Austin watched as one of the richest women in the world hurried off to beg for a job. It was the most bizarre thing. What could have happened to Megara Jordan to make her desperate to get a job?
And what in the world kind of job could she do? He was sure Kay had no openings for “Selfie-Taker.”
He snorted and continued his hobbling to room 303. This day was getting more and more interesting.
