BARRED: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (Billionaires & Bohemians Book 2)

by Linnea May

  She comes closer, sitting next to me on the bed as I lower my head, trying to hide the wrenching sorrow that thinking about Lux causes.

  "Look," she whispers, placing her hand on my shoulder. "I'm not trying to make you feel any worse here, I'm just trying to help. At least speak about it, for God's sake. You've barely done, eaten or even said anything in over a week now, and it just... freaks me out. I'm worried about you, that's all."

  I shake my head, as if I was trying to tell the tears to stay away. I've been on the verge of crying for days, but have always managed to contain myself, suppressing any thoughts about what happened between me and Lux, downplaying whatever he may have meant to me, acting as if I didn't miss him like crazy.

  Because I do. I haven't realized before how close we had become in such a short amount of time, how much all these little things we shared meant to me. We had contact almost every day since we first met, but it was all so natural, so mundane almost, that it felt like nothing special at the time. Now that he's gone, not fighting for me one bit after I accused him and left him in that parking garage, I can't help but sugarcoat every little good thing he did. It's not even hard, because there were so many of them.

  But he was an ex-convict, and it doesn't look like he's learned his lesson. The last ex-convict I hooked up with almost broke my leg and ruined my career, and Lux has the same brute attitude. He has restrained himself so far, but who says that he won't lose it one day? And who says that he's not going back to prison any time soon? Because with the way he's headed right now, that doesn't seem to be out of the question.

  And he doesn't care. He doesn't care enough about me to stop doing those things, to become a legit man, an honest man, a man who is in charge of the rebellious tendencies that lead little boys, but can only tickle a grown man.

  I don't share all of this with Olivia because I know it would only worry her further. But I will have to tell her something. Maybe she's right and talking about it could help me to feel better.

  "I'm going to be okay," I assure her. "It's just... I don't understand why this is so hard for me. It's not like he was my boyfriend or anything."

  "But you liked him a lot, didn't you?"

  I shrug, too stubborn to admit the obvious.

  "He was kind of rude, you know," I say. "Trying to tell me what I should do with my life, even though he has no idea."

  "How so?" Olivia wants to know. "What did he tell you to do?"

  I clear my throat and adjust my posture, sitting up straight and with my eyes on her instead of the floor.

  "Well, for example, he told me that I should lower my expectations," I begin. "Telling me to look for a smaller company if I want to become a soloist, instead of trying to move up in rank at Anaheim."

  Olivia raises her eyebrows, twirling her hand to urge me to continue talking. "And?"

  "And?" I retort. "Don't you think that's kind of insolent? Assuming that I'm not going to make it and basically tell me to give up now instead of trying?"

  "Well, I don't think that's how he meant it..."

  "But that's what it sounds like to me," I insist. "I mean, okay, I may be reaching high, very high indeed, and okay, I may not have as good of chances as other girls do, but I should at least try, don't you think?"

  Olivia shifts around awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. Is she agreeing with him?

  "Do you think he's right?" I ask with a hint of horror in my voice.

  She nods her head from one side to the other, biting her lower lip as if she's trying to keep herself from saying something wrong.

  "I'm pretty sure he was just trying to help you," she says eventually. "And you know, that's basically what I did."

  She looks at me, her gaze implying a trace of accusal.

  "I'm working at a smaller theater, on a smaller team, with a smaller audience and smaller pay," she says. "Because it was more important for me to play the better roles, to be the center of attention, if you want to call it that. I love my job, and I wouldn't want to be just one of many, even if it meant that I could be part of a more prestigious institution. It's all about priorities."

  I pause for a moment, feeling bad about possibly insulting Olivia by what I said. I know this about her, and I should have considered it before telling her all of this. That was so insensitive of me.

  "I'm sorry," I say in a low voice, casting her an apologetic look.

  She smiles back at me.

  "Don't be sorry," she says. "I'm very happy with my choice and wouldn't do it any differently."

  "Even if you could be the star at a big theater?" I ask.

  Olivia huffs.

  "I'd never say no to that," she admits. "But let's face it, those rare spots in the limelight are reserved for very few, and there‘s no shame in not being one of them. Life is more than work, even for artists like us."

  "Sure," I agree, even though I don't know of many things that mean as much to me as dancing.

  Maybe that's exactly why I should reconsider Lux's suggestion.

  Chapter XXX

  Sara

  It never hurts to look. The fact remains that Lux is not the kind of man I should be with, no matter how much it hurts to accept this. But he may have left me with some food for thought. I'd be one of the very few to leave Anaheim for a smaller company by choice, but if there was a chance for me to stand out in a smaller company, I don't want to miss out on the opportunity.

  It's the first time in years that I'm researching possible ballet appointments for myself. I was still a teenager the last time I did research of this sort, and then I stopped because I could stay at Anaheim and felt comfortable there, even after the dream of getting a higher rank became smaller every season. It could happen next year, or the year after that, but chances are that it never will.

  The more research I do, the less the idea of changing companies repulses me. There are so many out there, even locally. I never thought about moving away from LA, even though it's quite far from my family. But as sad as it may sound, I don't miss them a whole lot, especially since my mother got remarried to this guy Steven, a car dealer who has as little sense for ballet as one can have. She brought him to one of my performances, and he actually fell asleep, afterward shaking his head about those "silly frills" we were wearing on stage. It was the first and last time that I ever had the two of them sitting in the audience during one of my performances, and I'm not even sad about it. My mother supported me in pursuing my dream, but only after I received a scholarship to attend classes at Anaheim and move to LA, and thus no longer her responsibility. Our relationship is good enough to spend a decent Christmas together - if I get the chance to actually go home during that time - and that's enough for me.

  I've made this city my home. It's where I've had the best time of my life, where my friends live, where my dream took shape. I don't want to leave this place, unless I absolutely have to.

  But from the looks of it, I won't. Some of the smaller companies in the area currently have open casting calls, and I reckon there will be even more once the next season approaches. It can't hurt to pay a visit to one or two of them. Just a noncommittal peek at what they might offer.

  Another thing that catches my attention is the fact that a lot of them concentrate on contemporary pieces, something I've rarely gotten the chance to do, even though they're not uncommon at Anaheim, either. This could be a new challenge, a new way of dancing.

  Alternative flows and choreographies instead of moving within the strict constraints set by ballet standards.

  Bending the rules instead of breaking them.

  Isn't that what Lux called it? He applied it to what he was doing with his almost-legit business.

  I'm sitting at our kitchen table, stretching my legs while my eyes are glued to the screen of my laptop. It's hard for me to sit completely still. I always see a need to move in some way and in most cases I resort to stretching. There's no such thing as too much stretching, and it's also something that can be done anywhere, anytime.


  I wonder what he'd say if he knew that I'm actually following up on his suggestion? Would he be happy? Would he look at me with that condescending smile? Would he call me a good girl?

  Somehow, the last thought sends a shiver down my spine. It's a reminder of the need that's seeded deep inside of me. A need that he can fulfill, a need that he may have awakened within me.

  I shake my head violently, as if that could make the thoughts about him go away. It's a gesture that comes naturally, even though I know that thinking about him can't be shaken off that easily.

  It's so ridiculous. Especially because he's probably not thinking about me at all anymore.

  Chapter XXXI

  Lux

  "I don't get it," Max repeats, slamming his empty bottle on the wooden counter.

  We're sitting at a bar that is known to very few people in my world. It's a shady and dark underground place, with cheap beer and a clientele to match. I don't come here often, but it's a great place to escape from the world I usually find myself in.

  It's also a great place to pick up chicks, based on my experience.

  "What exactly do you not get?" I ask him, raising two fingers to the bartender to signal our wish for another round.

  "This one-eighty you're doing on me," Max says. "Weren't you the one practically begging me to resume a new operation that's more to your taste?"

  I nod.

  "And weren't you the one whining about how constraining and dumb the legit world out there is?" he adds. "How your business is not bringing in the profit you want to see, but instead gets slowed down with this constant bullshit of people trying to go legal on you?"

  I nod again.

  "And - just to get this straight - now you want me to get on board with you?" he concludes. "Instead of doing something awesome with me?"

  Again, I reply with nothing but a silent nod, as the bartender places two more beers in front of us.

  We clink bottles and take a first sip of our third beer for the evening. We've been here for a while, and it took me some time to come up with the proposal I wanted to present to Max.

  The fact remains that he's the best buddy I ever had, and despite his inconvenient intrusion on my date with Sara, I don't want this guy missing from my life any longer.

  But I also don't want to go to jail again, and the more I spoke with him, the more I came to realize that it may not be the illegal business itself that I was missing, but just the time spent together working with him. He's smarter than he seems at first, and he comes from a completely different background than I do, which - in my eyes - makes it all the more impressive to see what he's capable of. He never had a big trust fund or a prominent family that wanted to make sure he'd land a position at the top. My brother was right when he said that I was equipped with a good brain, but I was also backed with a lot of money, unlike Max.

  He's smart and hard working, but also reckless in his rebellious attitude. I'm pretty sure his little cracking activities wouldn't go unnoticed for too long. He'd get busted again, and this time, he might not have the means to bail himself out.

  "Yes, I want you to work with me," I clarify.

  "For you, or with you?" he probes.

  "With me," I insist. "I know I'd never get you to bend over backwards or even follow the simplest of directives."

  "Damn straight I wouldn't," Max says, before taking a big sip of his beer. "I'm not one of your little sluts."

  I sigh, pushing aside the thought that he just insulted Sara as being one of those sluts.

  "What's in this for me?" Max wants to know. "I mean, why on Earth would I do this, after you whined about how stupid and lame it is."

  "If you call it whining one more time, I'm not gonna‘ extend the offer," I warn him. "I was merely pointing out the challenges and annoyances that come with doing real business. I should have known that going clean wasn't going to be easy. There's a reason why there are so many repeat offenders, because it's fucking hard to stop."

  Max nods quietly.

  "I know it was hard for me," I say. "It felt like I was losing myself, forgetting who I am, giving in to the will of my family."

  "Oh, right, the poor rich boy," Max snorts. "Sorry, I can't feel sorry for you in that regard."

  "I'm not asking you to," I interject. "I'm just telling you what it did to me. I moved all the way over across the country to get away from them, and when that wasn‘t enough, I started doing something I knew they‘d really object to."

  "Pretty much every family would object to breaking the law, dude," Max adds for consideration. "Even mine."

  "True," I say. "But with mine, I actually ended up as an outcast. If it wasn't for my damn brother, I'd still be in prison just because I'm so fucking stubborn."

  Max regards me with a glance from the side. I hate the way he's looking at me right now. It reminds me of the way I was looking at my brother just a few months ago. The tamed boy who finally came to his senses. I swore never to be like that, and now I find myself wanting just that.

  With my job, that is. It's a stretch to say that I have changed recently, because I'm already running a fairly successful business without breaking any laws. The fact that my clients fuck up and get caught doing so, and then try to drag us through the mud with them, is a different issue. I know I need to strengthen our legal department, and I know Max won't be of much help in that area.

  But he knows his stuff. He can code and he can hack like no other. Plus, he knows how the mind of a criminal works, because he's one himself. Having him on board could be useful in many ways, and I know I can pay him sufficiently. I've already told him a number that made his eyebrows dart up in appreciation.

  He just needs to get over his ego, just like I did.

  We could be just as great together in broad daylight as we were in the shadows.

  "Let me think about it," Max says, nodding. "I'll head back tomorrow and think about it. If I say yes to this, there are a few things I need to move around back home and-"

  "I understand," I say. "That's all I'm asking for right now. For you to think about it."

  I pause, fixating on him with an intense gaze before I continue.

  "But remember," I say. "If you hop on board, you gotta‘ be sure to clean up after yourself. Don't leave any traces, don't bring any of that cracking business over to my company."

  Max growls a reply that I take for a yes. We spent a few moments in silence, sipping on our beers and lazily scanning the bar. It's crowded tonight. The usual clientele is gathering around the scattered tables and the only pool table, where two guys about my age are trying to impress a bunch of girls with their non-existent pool skills.

  "Seems to me that you have some clearing to do yourself," Max mumbles next to me.

  I throw him a quizzical look.

  "That girl," he says. "She's still in your head, isn't she?"

  I narrow my eyes, defiantly shaking my head. "Don't know what you're talking about."

  "The entire evening we've been sitting here, you haven't turned your head once to check out tonight's menu," he spells out, gesturing toward the room by moving his arm in a wide circle.

  "I mean, these may not be the kind of chicks you pick up at your club outings," he adds. "But I know you. You were always on the lookout for some new pussy. You'd find someone worthy of your time, no matter where you were. And lets face it, there's some fine babes gracing this location tonight."

  He's right. The girls who are here for a cheap drink tonight aren't that bad, and some of them are downright gorgeous, flaunting their luscious bodies in revealing outfits that leave little to the imagination.

  He's also right about the fact that I haven't noticed any of them until just now, when he pointed them out to me.

  "I've never seen you like this," Max adds. "Sitting in a bar full of pretty girls and not scanning around to assess which one of them to take home. Could it be that you're still hung up on that little dancer?"

  I press my lips together. "I don't get hung up on gi
rls."

  Max laughs. "You also don't do clean and legit business, remember? Things change, man."

  "Not in this regard," I insist. "I'm not like my brother. He may have fallen into that trap, but I won't let it happen to me."

  "Man, you were right," Max muses. "You are fucking stubborn."

  "It has nothing to do with-"

  "Yeah, it does," Max interrupts me. "You know, when I showed up that night and I saw you with that girl, I instantly regretted showing up like that, at that moment, that evening."

  I snort. "Of course you did, no one likes a cock-block."

  Max fixates on me with his eyes.

  "It's more than that," he says. "She called you by your name, man."

  "So?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders.

  "And the way she said it," Max adds. "Stressing every syllable as if she knew exactly what she was doing."

  "Again. So?" I press.

  "I don't know, man," Max says, chuckling. "Something just tells me you ain't done with that girl. And she ain't done with you, either."

  I say nothing in response to his assumptions. It feels idiotic to deny his words, but it would be even more pathetic to admit that he's right.

  "Wanna‘ hear my opinion?" Max asks.

  I shake my head. "To be honest, no."

  "Well, you're gonna‘ hear it anyway," Max continues, ignoring my interjection. "You should go after that, after her. I would. Shit like that doesn't happen every day."

  "Shit like that?" I want to know.

  He clears his throat, twirling his hand as if he was trying to lure the words out of thin air.

  "You know," he growls in a husky voice. "Falling in love."

  Chapter XXXII

  Sara

  Sundays are the best days to get a good workout in because I usually have the studio all to myself. It's the one day of the week when most of the other girls who book the studio for their private training take a day off.