CHAPTER ONE
Chase Knightly
Sane,normal people would say I’m too old for this shit. Too old to be havingfunwith a plane full of men and women twenty years younger than me.
If any of those sane, normal,boringpeople ever dared tell me that to my face, I’d say I’m young at heart, I always know how to have fun, and also, fuck them.
Both grooms invited their closest friends, and all of us who live in England are currently on the private jet on our way to Ibiza for this extravagant double bachelor party.
Out of the ten people on board, the only person besides me who was invited by Nate is Noah, a friend he made at grad school in Oxford. All his other friends will meet us there because they’re flying in from the US.
Nate let me know that two more of Ru’s guests will also meet us there, and with a cheeky grin he added that otherwise we’ll be surrounded by “the enemy,” meaning not American.
I greeted everyone as naturally as possible, and got through it easily enough at first by not letting on howawareI was of our age differences, but when Noah came in I had to keep my chill for completely different, thrilling but also embarrassing reasons—the man is gorgeous.
I didn’t know the friend Nate made in Oxford, the one he’s been telling me about for close to two years, would be the perfect embodiment of everything I find attractive in a man.
I also wasn’t aware I could even feel that kind of make-your-knees-weak attraction for a man who’s so much younger than me.
Yet here we are... stuck in a plane for another two hours on our way to the land of debauchery, where we’ll spend three days making bad choices. Or at least that was what Nate said the plan is.
I need to focus on something else, though, literally anything else, so I pick the obvious choice.
The other six people who are currently chatting, drinking champagne, and laughing in the cabin of the jet are not only a guest of The Honorable Rupert Francis Harrington Cardew, but probably also have a pedigree as spiffy as Ru’s.
In all my years living in England, I’ve learned there is a great variety in the quality of aristocrats.
Ru’s one of the good ones, and I’ve loved getting to know him better since he took over his father’s company and now helps manage my wealth. Of course, thanks to his relationship with Nate, he’s also become one of the few people who know me as more than the Midas of venture capitalism.
I’ve known Nate, to some degree, all his life. His father is a few years older than me, but we grew up in the same circles, and have done business together many times over the years,but the best way to describe our connection is to say I’m a friend of the family.
Certain New York families have been close for centuries at this point, and it’s easier to shed the mask of societal propriety when I’m around people who understand what that life was like for me.
Like me, Nate escaped to the other side of the pond, but it still feels like a slice of home whenever we have dinner together.
That’s probably why I enjoy myself so much on the flight to Ibiza, why I allow myself the chance to laugh and chat without measuring every single word I say.
Ru’s sister Petra and her best friend Jenna are a riot, telling tales about some party they went to last month and all the scandals that resulted from it. Ru’s friends from school tell me about their new polo centre, and the pictures they show me are impressive enough to have me promising a visit.
The two-and-a-half-hour flight passes by quickly enough, as does the quick drive to the private villas Nate’s best man, Seth, booked for the twenty people invited for the weekend. Seth’s another man I’ve known all his life.
Chaos ensues when Seth starts dividing up rooms, everyone shouting protests at the same time. Seth clearly knows the dangers of mob mentality because he holds his hands up in surrender before giving up completely.
“Fine! There are six rooms in this villa and seven in the other one.”
“We call the master,” Nate shouts before his best man is even done talking.
“I demand a room for myself,” I say as fast as my mouth can move. “I’m not bunking with any of you animals.”
“The old man has spoken,” Nate agrees and claps his hands once.
“Do you want to room with us?” Petra asks Nate’s sister Chelsea.
“Oh my god, really?” she asks excitedly, then remembers her husband is right beside her and throws him a guilty wince. “I mean?—”
He waves her off.
“It’s fine. I’m going to drag Zack with us so we can find you three a room with enough space.”