My Unexpected Vow: California Billionaires Book 2 Read online

  Harlow James

  My Unexpected Vow

  California Billionaires Book 2

  Copyright © 2021 by Harlow James

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Harlow James asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Harlow James has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  Cover art by Abigail Davies from Pink Elephant Designs

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  To My Husband and to Our Marriage:

  I promise to make the decision to love you even when it’s hard, because I’m aware no one is perfect and you and I are worth it.

  And I know I promised to put the caps back on the pens, but you promised to close the kitchen cupboards too.

  And well? At least we try.

  Marriages last because two people make a choice:

  To keep it.

  To fight for it.

  And to work for it.

  Unknown

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Harlow James

  Prologue

  Hayes

  “I’m dying, Hayes.”

  My lips part as I register the words that just came out of my father’s mouth. “What?”

  “I’m dying… wasting away.”

  I gulp down a chord of emotion that lodges itself in my throat and then lean forward in my chair. This is not the conversation I anticipated when I arrived at my parent’s house this evening for dinner, especially a week before Christmas.

  “Uh, okay. Is it… cancer?”

  My mother steps down into the den and smacks my father on the back of his head. “Jesus, Alec. Knock it off. You can’t joke around with our son about you dying. If you’ve forgotten, you’re actually getting up to an age where that very well could happen sooner rather than later.” She tosses a wink in my direction as I feel my chest lighten and the breath I was holding leave my lips.

  “Fuck, Dad. Seriously?”

  “Well, I am dying, son. We all are every day.”

  I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the life lesson,” I chastise him as I slink back in the large, navy cushioned chair and reach for my glass of red wine that my mother poured for me just shortly after I arrived. When I’m out at a club, whiskey is my go-to drink of choice. But nothing beats a glass of red wine, especially with my momma.

  That’s right, ladies. I’m a momma’s boy through and through, and I have no shame at all admitting that.

  “So what’s with the dramatics then?” I stare across the space at my father, who’s nursing his beer.

  He sighs and then shifts in his seat. “I want to retire, Hayes.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I scoot to the edge of my seat now, still holding my wine glass. “Well, I knew it was coming, but don’t worry, Dad. I’m ready to take over the company. I have been for a while.” My heart races as I realize that this is the moment I’ve been waiting for, taking over my father’s billion-dollar investment firm that I’ve been working tirelessly to help build over the last decade.

  He shakes his head at me and then grimaces. “No, Hayes. You’re not.”

  “What?”

  “You’re thirty-one years old, son. And although your mother and I are abundantly proud of the man you are and the work you do, you haven’t lived your life. Hell, I can’t remember the last time you brought a girl home for us to meet.”

  Newsflash—I don’t bring women home to my parents, because the women I spend my time with aren’t usually of the variety that you bring home to Mom and Dad.

  “I’ve been busy,” I reply, knowing that at least that response isn’t a lie.

  “That’s exactly it. You’ve been so busy working that your life is passing you by.”

  My mother takes a seat next to my father on the couch before resting her wineglass on the coffee table. “Hayes, don’t you want to get married one day? Have a family?” Her eyes are full of some intense emotion, but part of me can’t help but think it’s self-deprecation, like she blames herself for why I’m not married and impregnating my wife repeatedly by now.

  “I mean, I guess. I just figured it would happen when it’s supposed to.” I shrug and then peer off to the side of the room, avoiding their eyes because part of me feels like I’m back in high school and they’re reprimanding me for the Playboys they discovered under my bed.

  “And that very well could still happen, but I also know that you don’t even try to look for that, son. Your mother and I are worried, that’s all. We don’t want you to miss out on all that life has to offer because you’re so consumed with work and partying. And the moment you take over the company, I know you’re going to drown yourself in responsibility and then you’ll really be alone.”

  “Plus, I don’t want to be one of those old women who doesn’t have pictures of grandchildren to show off, Hayes. Do you want me to be that woman? The old lady that cries in her handkerchief and then pees herself in her diaper because her only son never married and she’ll never be able to brag about her perfect grandchildren to her friends?”

  “Now who’s being dramatic,” my father mumbles into my mother’s ear before she swats him away.

  “All we’re saying is that there are more important things in life than making money, and we don’t want you to end up with any regrets, Hayes.” My mother flashes me a tight-lipped but sincere smile as I study the two of them next to each other on the couch.

  I hit the jackpot when it comes to parents, really, especially compared to my best friend, Wes. While his mother couldn’t be bothered to raise the children she birthed and his father hid an illegitimate son from his family late in his life, my parents were only able to have one child and devoted their time to make sure I knew how much they loved me. My mom almost died giving birth to me, which lead to complications where she had to hav
e a hysterectomy after I was born. Therefore, I was the only kid they brought into this world, which left quite a responsibility on my shoulders to be the perfect son and prepare to take over the family business when the time came.

  Okay, that last part was an exaggeration. On the contrary, my parents never once demanded perfection from me or insisted that I take over control of Weston Investments when my father retired. The decision was mine alone to pursue that endeavor, and since I’m good with people and trusting my gut, my business sense kicked in right out of college and hasn’t steered me wrong since. In all honesty, sometimes the chase of a new property investment, particularly in the nightclub circuit where I’ve established dominance, has lost some of its appeal as of late.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing my money come back to me tenfold, knowing my intuition was solid and a thriving business was built or saved from a mutual agreement between the owner and myself. But it’s starting to get old, particularly the life of attending club openings surrounded by loud music and scantily clad women throwing themselves at me until two o’clock in the morning. And the media is relentlessly trying to pin me down to some super model I may casually smile at during a night out or attempt to paint me as a playboy, which isn’t as true as they try to make it out to be.

  But honestly, what would I do with my nights otherwise? It’s not like I have someone waiting for me at home, and I don’t necessarily want that. I like my independence. I like not having to answer to anyone and worry about making a woman mad. But perhaps my parents are right. There’s got to be more to life than this. I just hate that this conversation feels like I’m in trouble. I’m a grown man and can make my own decisions on my own time clock.

  “So, would you like me to apply to 90-Day Fiancé then? Or put in for a mail-order bride?” I set my wineglass down and then cross my arms over my chest. It’s apparently my turn for the dramatics.

  “That’s not it at all, Hayes,” my mother quickly interjects.

  “But until you can show us that you’re at least trying to build a future for yourself outside of work, I’m not going to hand over the reins just yet,” my father explains, which has me gritting my teeth together.

  “What if I don’t want to get married, or have a family? Isn’t that my decision?”

  “Yes, absolutely. We’re not saying you have to get married tomorrow. We just want you to think about what you want your future to look like. And if remaining single is your choice, your father and I will support you and accept it. Less people are marrying and having kids nowadays or doing so later in life. But part of me wonders if you even think about those things, Hayes. Are you even dating anyone? Or actively trying to date?”

  “I don’t have time. Most women want someone at their beck and call and that’s not going to fit into the craziness that is my life, Mom.”

  “On the contrary, son,” my dad chimes in. “The right woman will support you and understand how important your work is. And you’ll realize that she’s more important than your job. Real love is about give and take, compromise, and a need to make the other person happy, not the feeling that you have to.” His gaze shifts over to my mother where she sits beside him, and the look he gives her, the pure adoration on his face makes me realize that I’ve never felt that way about a woman before.

  My mom turns to meet his eyes and her smile lights up her entire face, causing a chain reaction as my father’s mimics hers. My parents genuinely love each other, unconditionally, and unapologetically. But that is rare, and deep down I doubt that I’ll ever find something like that for myself. Not with my name and the dollar signs attached to it. Not with the attention on me from various media outlets and paparazzi. Not with the time constraints I have to deal with surrounding my work. And not with the very important detail that there isn’t anyone I’ve felt that I’d want to make that leap with.

  “Can we be done talking about this, please?” I finally break the silence, slicing through their moment as well.

  My mother stands from the couch and walks over to where I’m seated, leaning down to cup the side of my face in her palm. “I love you, Hayes. I just want you to be happy. I want my son to be happy.”

  “I know, Mom. I get it.”

  She walks away and out of the room toward the kitchen just as my father adds his two-sense. “Your mother worries about you, and the more she talks about it, the more I can see it wear on her, and the more I’m beginning to agree. I was lucky, Hayes. I met your mom before I made my first million, so I knew she loved me for me. And then she stood by during the good times and bad. We’ve had our fair share of ups and downs as you will in any marriage, but at the end of the day, there is no one I’d rather have by my side until the end.”

  “How did you know she was the one, Dad? How do you even begin to develop a feeling like that?” I ask, honestly curious because I have no idea how to determine something that monumental.

  He tilts his head at me. “Have you ever been in love, son?”

  “I don’t think so,” I answer honestly.

  “That’s a no then,” he states, “because if you had, you’d know without a doubt that you were. I knew your mom was the one because she was the first person I wanted to share the good and bad news with, and the one whose mind and laugh I couldn’t get enough of. She was and still is my best friend.”

  I huff out a laugh. “Well, Wes is my best friend and currently engaged, so that option isn’t viable any longer.”

  My dad laughs as he stands from the couch, and I follow suit. “You’ll figure it out, kid. I have faith in you.” He pats my shoulder and then leaves the room as I stand in place and ruminate on the conversation that just unfolded.

  Dinner with my parents never feels this stifling. It’s usually a check-in on work and a home-cooked meal that I miss more than I care to admit most days. But nothing this heavy.

  My future? A wife?

  I don’t even know what that looks like and I don’t know that I want to think about it, especially right now.

  But if I know myself as well as I should, now that the seed has been planted, I’m going to have one hell of a time ripping the root of that plant from my mind any time soon.

  Chapter 1

  Waverly

  Two Days Before New Year’s Eve

  “What are you doing in here on a Wednesday?”

  I finish hanging the gently used rain jacket on a hanger and then slide it onto the standing rack in front of me. “I have much more time on my hands these days, haven’t you noticed?”

  “Bored?” Janet, the homeless shelter director, grins at me once I turn around to face her.

  “Yeah, you could say that. I mean, I graduated from school finally, right? I was so ready to be done with homework, projects, and getting up early to attend classes. But now that I don’t have to, I have no idea what to do with myself.”

  She chuckles and then picks up another stack of donated coats and sets them on the table for me to hang. “Well, you know we can always use your help around here.”

  “That’s why I came. Plus, it keeps me out of the fridge at home. I find myself eating for no reason and then making trips to the grocery store for more food.” I think back to yesterday as I walked through the aisles and caught someone taking a picture of me. Apparently watching the sister of the owner of a hotel empire grocery shopping is extremely interesting and could bring in someone thousands of dollars. The photos the media will pay for these days are mind-boggling.

  Janet shuffles around me and picks up another box of donated clothes, popping open the cardboard tabs and ruffling through them. “What about looking for a job? Wasn’t that on your list of things to do once you graduated?” She reaches out with a dark brown pea coat and I intercept it.

  “I can’t do much until after the new year. My degree has to post and I want to add a few more things to my portfolio. Say, you don’t happen to have money in your budget to let me do the interior design on the shelter, do you?” I waggle my eyebrows at her. “I c
ould really spruce up the place, give it some life.”

  Janet peers around the room, taking in the dingy walls that used to be white but are more of a cream color now thanks to years of wear and tear. The place is clean and up to code, don’t get me wrong, but visual appeal is not a necessity at The Rescue Mission, the same place I’ve been volunteering since high school. “I’m gonna take a wild guess without even looking at the books and say no.”

  I shrug and then grab a few hooded sweatshirts. “Worth a shot.”

  “I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but try to enjoy this time. Once you start working, that’s all you do every day of your life until it’s time to retire.”

  Rolling my eyes, I slide the last two coats on the rack and then spin around to face her again. “I know I should listen to you, being that you’re older and wiser and have known me for over eight years, but all the unknown about my life right now is making my anxiety spike through the roof.”

  “You know what a good cure for that is? Orgasms.”

  Laughter bubbles out of me at an alarming volume. “Ha! You’re funny.”

  “What? You don’t agree? And remember, you don’t need a man to have a few of those.”

  “Oh, I’m aware. What do you think I’ve been doing since I broke up with Brett in August?”

  Huffing out a snort of dislike, she reaches down and grabs a bag of brand new underwear and socks. If there’s any item the shelter is always in need of, it’s underwear and socks for all ages and genders. “That boy was no good for you, anyway. I would say it’s his loss, but I don’t feel like that needs to be confirmed.”

  “You never met him,” I counter, even though I know she’s right. Hell, even sex with Brett, my ex-boyfriend from college, was less than mediocre and I ended up having to finish myself off later once he fell asleep.