“Congratulations,” his literary agent shouted, coming up and patting Samuel on the back. “You did it again, Samuel. You live the most charmed life I’ve ever seen; everything you touch turns to gold without you even trying.”
Samuel bit back his knee-jerk response to defend himself, knowing that he’d worked extremely hard to cultivate his lackadaisical playboy image. His public persona played well with viewers, who drank up every moment of the handsome Irish hunk cooking and flirting with women on their TV. He acted like the producers of the show were behind it all, but Samuel had spent countless hours coming up with the concept before making it a reality. The same was true for his growing cookbook empire. He’d let everyone assume he had used a ghost writer, even though he’d actually penned every single word himself.
The rest of the evening passed with guests trickling in and out of the party at the posh restaurant owned by Roger’s good friend, Bryce Montgomery. He also dropped by for a couple of hours since he was in town for business.
As the night was winding down, Wade pulled Samuel aside a final time. “We never got to finish our discussion about BBC.”
“What’s there to discuss? I left everything in the hands of the new concierge that replaced Tara. I told her to surprise me.”
“You’re not planning to bring along a bunch of friends like you did last time?”
Samuel shook his head, causing his black hair to fall forward onto his forehead. “Nope, if my friends need to be there, I have full confidence that Simone will fly them in. Why? Are you actually planning to come this time, since you skipped my birthday last year? Or is it because you’re worried I won’t invite you because you’re engaged? I told you, just because you want to get tied down by a wife, it doesn’t mean our friendship has to change. We’re all good, Wade.”
“No, that’s not why I’m asking. I’m trying to figure out what you want from your birthday experience this year. I was hoping you could go there and be open to finding something more than just temporary pleasure. The experience Tara gave me last year changed my life.”
“I doubt lightning will strike twice and I’ll find my own concierge to give me a new outlook on life,” Samuel mocked as he focused on and inspected his cuticles, as if pretending he was bored with the conversation. The truth was, he didn’t dare open his heart after what happened with Fiona five years ago. He’d learned his lesson about letting a woman get too close.
“You’ve been nonchalant about your life for far too long, Samuel. Part of me wonders if it’s a facade, and the other part of me worries it might be who you are.”
“Don’t worry about me, Wade.” Samuel’s gaze drifted up as he placed his hands in the pockets of his dress slacks. “I’m happy with my life; it’s exactly how I like it. I’m not interested in anything more.”
A week later, Samuel arrived on the Billionaire Birthday Club’s private Polynesian island, ready for the new concierge to top his last birthday celebration. Last year, Tara had brought in an entire vintage circus. It included the best aerial performers in the world as well as all his favorite animals from his childhood. He’d brought along fifty of his friends, including his girlfriend of the week. All of them went on and on about how extravagant the party was, making Samuel even more impressed by the event. The best part for him, however, was when he got to interact with the different performers after the show, including petting the tigers and riding one of the elephants. He had no idea how the new concierge would be able to outdo that.
As he stepped down from the private jet, a curly redheaded woman was waiting at the end of the red velvet carpet. She was standing in front of a long, black limousine, a huge smile covering her face as he approached.
“Good evening, Mr. Butler,” she greeted as she reached out her hand to him. He shook it in return. “My name is Simone. I’ll be handling your birthday experience while you’re with us.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Samuel took in the woman’s looks, noting to himself that with her willowy frame and crisp bone structure, she was nearly as pretty as Tara was. He knew from his own past experience, however, the concierges didn’t mix business with pleasure. It was a strict rule of the club. He only knew of one breach of the rule, and it nearly cost Tara her job. Besides, Samuel wasn’t partial to redheads anyway, but it didn’t hurt to flirt a little. Knowing his crystal blue eyes and sexy smile were a potent combination, he flashed her his most winning look. “I love that cream suit of yours. This year’s Prada, right?”
Her eyebrows raised in shocked admiration. “That’s right; from your questionnaire, I didn’t take you for a women’s fashion expert.”
“I’m not, but I did date one of the designers that worked on that line. She invited me to the runway show—and the after, after party,” he explained, making sure to put the emphasis on the word that would drive home the message he wanted. “She made sure I knew all about how hard she worked on that exact suit—you know, pillow talk and all.”
Simone seemed to ignore his comment, instead focusing on his experience on the island. “Well, if there are any garments you need that aren’t in the stores here, we can have one of our personal shoppers overnight ship it from the mainland for you.”
They climbed into the back of the limo and headed towards the resort. Simone went over the accommodations that had been upgraded since his last visit, explaining the new additions to the luxury aquatic center and golf course.
Once inside the lobby, Simone handed over a key card to him. “We have you staying in the presidential suite on the east end of the tower this time. You’ll have a different view than you did last year.”
She must have figured out from his survey, or possibly even from Tara, he liked to be kept on his toes. Unlike Wade, who was a creature of habit, Samuel regularly enjoyed new adventures.
“Thank you, but I’m not tired enough to go to my suite, yet. I think I will head over to the lounge for a nightcap.”
“Of course, sir, I made sure that all of the bars and restaurants, as well as room service, have your drink of choice—Macallan Single Cask. I’ll see you here in the lobby at eight a.m. to start your birthday surprise.”
Samuel sauntered off towards the lounge, ready to enjoy a drink while watching whoever the club brought in to entertain in the lounge this week. They had a steady rotation of up-and-coming pop singers. They were more than willing to come perform for the constant influx of billionaire guests, despite the non-disclosure agreement they had to sign in order to be there.
The lounge was filled with dozens of people, most of them sitting at the various tables. Deciding the bar was the best option for him, he sidled up and waved his hand for the bartender.
“Mr. Butler, I’ll get your Macallan Single Cask right away, sir.”
For a moment, he was surprised the young man recognized him. He then remembered that the pictures from each billionaire’s dossier were circulated to the staff so that they would know the guests when they came into the various establishments. This made the service truly one-of-a-kind.
“Thank you,” he muttered as he took the glass from the other man.