How to Bag a Billionaire

‘Nervous. I hope with all my heart that Zeb will step up and want to be a great father.’ She wrapped a stray tendril of hair around her finger. ‘But no matter what happens now, this week has been incredible.’

Suspicion pricked his thumbs; there was something in Olivia’s expressive eyes that initiated unease. Ridiculous. Adam shoved the brooding thought aside. They had an agreement: one night. Olivia knew and concurred with the rules—and anyway she didn’t believe in love and wasn’t looking for a relationship.

Whatever bond had been formed would now be dissolved. Following this meeting with Zeb, he and Olivia would go their separate ways. If Zeb confirmed paternity then perhaps their paths would occasionally cross and the steeped banks of desire would give a little smoulder. But right now she deserved his support; she must be anxious about Zeb. That was the vibe he was picking up.

‘Come on.’ He held out his hand and braced himself for the shock of impact. This was a grasp of friendship, nothing more. ‘Let’s do this.’

Her small decisive nod betokened determination and she slipped her hand into his.

A ten-minute Jeep drive brought them to their destination and after a brief beach walk they stepped out of the bright morning sunlight into the cool interior of the bar. Adam scanned the room; only a few tables were occupied, and the muted hum of conversation blended with the low background beat of reggae music.

There was Zeb, and the familiar conflicted jumble of feelings knotted in Adam’s gut. The leaden knowledge that this was the man who had moulded him genetically and by nurture had made him, for better or worse, into the man he was today. A massive chunk off the old block. Then there was gratitude that Zeb had done his duty, had swooped in to rescue Adam from the terror of the care system. And of course the thread of guilt that his father’s much wanted arrival had come at the cost of his mother’s death.

Too many emotions, added to the tumult of feelings generated by Olivia—who was rigid by his side as she stared at Zeb.

‘Hey. It’s going to be all right. We can do this,’ he said, hoping it wasn’t the biggest lie ever.

‘OK...’ she whispered.

They walked towards the table and Zeb looked up, his brown eyes glinting from Adam and then resting on Olivia.

‘Adam. My boy. How’s the hotel business?’ The question was a standard one, the reply never listened to. ‘More important, who is this?’ Zeb turned directly to Olivia and stroked his chin. ‘Whoever you are, you look familiar.’

‘This is Olivia,’ Adam said. ‘Olivia, this is Zeb.’

Olivia stepped forward and leant across the table. ‘I’m Jodie’s daughter.’

For an agonising second a pang of guilt by association burned Adam’s neck. He prayed that his father remembered Jodie—hadn’t dismissed her from memory once she’d stepped off Zeb’s conveyor belt.

‘Hawaii,’ Adam prompted.

‘Of course.’ Zeb nodded. ‘Apologies, Olivia. Your mother seemed way too young to have a daughter your age, hence the confusion. Hawaii. What a wonderful place, as Adam can no doubt tell you. Sit down, both of you. I’m having a rather marvellous cocktail. Five days at sea on basic provisions, cleansing my body and soul, and I feel ready for one of these. Can I get you one?’

‘No, thank you.’ Olivia’s opened her mouth to continue, her expression glazed; no doubt she was looking for a polite way to turn the conversation.

Before she could utter a word Zeb launched into a lecture on cocktails of the world. Adam recognised the tactic all too well. Heaven help him, it was a strategy he had utilised in many a business meeting.

Behind the façade of bonhomie, even as his mouth poured forth a torrent of avuncular chat, Zeb’s brain would be working overtime. Assessing and discarding the possible reasons for Olivia’s presence in the same way he would evaluate the cards in a hand at a game of poker.

It was entirely feasible that any minute now Zeb would guess and quite simply do a runner before Olivia could break the news.

Adam moved to sit at the table, positioning himself between Zeb and the door. He wouldn’t interfere in the conversation unless it became imperative, but neither would he let Zeb leave without being told about the baby.

After all, who knew? Maybe this time around Zeb would welcome impending fatherhood. Olivia’s optimism might be well founded; no one was asking Zeb to be a single parent again. Olivia just wanted him to be a part of the baby’s life. Surely that wouldn’t cramp Zeb’s style?

‘So...’ Olivia managed, slipping onto the seat next to Adam. ‘Did you and my mother have any cocktails in Hawaii?’