USED by Him: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Box Set

by Sarah J. Brooks

  He took the paper bill and stared at it. “That’s too much,” he said, handing it back to her.

  It was a twenty-dollar bill. The fare was about eight dollars. “Don’t you have change?” she asked, impatience making her voice rise.

  “No ma’am,” he said, still holding out the money.

  “Then just keep the change,” she almost yelled at him, grabbing the handle of the case and running to the entrance.

  The door attendant looked at her in surprise, a bright smile breaking out on his face. “Miss Chelsea!”

  His dark brown eyes twinkled at her as his dark lips curled back, showing his snow white teeth, a stark contrast to his chocolate complexion. They were a little crooked, but they were exceptionally white and gleaming. He was an elderly man, perhaps in his late sixties or early seventies, she could not tell.

  “Hi,” she greeted. For some reason, his name slipped her.

  “Thank God you’re back; maybe you can help that boy,” he said, his face becoming somber.

  “I will try,” she assured him and moved away.

  Not knowing what to expect upon her return, Chelsea re-checked into the hotel. The same room was not available; therefore, she had to settle for one a floor above. After settling in, she made her way to Colt’s suite. As she went the one floor down in the elevator, she found that she was almost hyperventilating. Her heart would not steady, and she was on edge.

  What if he does not wish to see me? flashed across her mind. She stepped from the elevator, unsure of whether to proceed or not. She’d left the train station in such a hurry that she hadn’t thought through her actions. All she knew was that Colt needed her, and she wanted to make sure he was all right. With one last quavering breath, she walked to his door. For what seemed like minutes, she stood there, bolstering her courage. Her hand rose but stopped in midair.

  “No,” she muttered. “What will I say?”

  Her hand hovered, and then fell to her side. She was about to walk away when a service trolley bumped into her.

  “I’m sorry,” the young male attendant apologized.

  With a nod, she stepped aside to allow him to pass. He lightly rapped on the door. There was no answer. He knocked once more and still no answer.

  “Are you sure you have the correct room?” she asked.

  “Yes, it’s Colt Montgomery’s room. I was told to take it to him. He did the same thing yesterday,” the young man replied.

  Chelsea did not comprehend. “What did he do yesterday?”

  “He didn’t answer, and I had to leave it here. Later, when I came back, it was untouched. But my supervisor told me not to leave until he comes out to get it.”

  She was still confused. “Who ordered the food?”

  “I don’t know, miss. I’m just following instructions.”

  On instinct, she tried the lock, and it gave way. “Okay, you leave it here, I’ll make sure he gets it,” she told him.

  As she watched him walk away, she took a deep breath before pushing the door open. Pulling the trolley behind her, she tentatively walked in, and then softly closed the door. The place was dark and quiet as if nobody was there. The curtains were drawn, keeping out the sunlight. There were no sounds, no sign of human life. Had he gone out?

  “Colt?” her voice came out in barely a whisper.

  Uncertain what to do, she stood for a moment in the middle of the room, contemplating whether she should leave or not. She was not even certain if Colt was there. The place seemed empty. After a moment’s hesitation, she walked to the window and pulled the curtains back. The bright midmorning sun filtered in. There was a slight scent of alcohol and sweat. She was used to that.

  His bedroom door beckoned to her. Should she disturb him? What if someone was with him in there? Could she handle that? Her heart was now doing backflips. What next, now that she had messed up her plans of returning to New York? What if Colt had reverted to his old self?

  It was now or never. She could not just stand there. Her knees wobbled as she moved to his door. It could mean disaster, but she braced herself for whatever he flung at her. He may rebel and tell her to leave. She gripped the knob and turned, then pushed. The room was dark, so she opened the door all the way.

  39. Chapter 7

  Three days ago …

  “What are you saying?” Colt was confused.

  He waited while Tony fidgeted, sensing that something big was going down, and it wasn’t good. The others were not meeting his eye.

  “We quit the band,” Tony said.

  He always knew this day was coming, and he couldn’t blame them. In that instance, there were a few emotions pricking at him; anger, grief, relief, and pain. He grounded his teeth together, thinking about his options. If the band broke up, he would be free to do whatever he liked.

  “Okay,” he replied after a few minutes.

  Andrew didn’t look completely with it. Colt observed that he was staring at a spot behind Colt’s head and not actively participating in the conversation. He didn’t say anything, but Colt sensed his reservation.

  “You’re all in agreement with this?” he asked, looking directly at Andrew.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want the band dismantled—he would certainly make it on his own. He had enough money to live on without selling another CD or singing at another concert. He could live a few lifetimes on his bank account only. He’d basically made more than five billion dollars in endorsement deals, the stocks he’d traded and the baseball team he’d secretly bought. Still, parting with the band felt strange.

  The guys were not bad off either. Their share of the tours and royalty from the music was a nice cut. Nevertheless, they would need to make a name for themselves without him, and he wasn’t sure they could start fresh without his influence. They would forever be known as The Purple Crush, a name that was copyrighted to him, in the event the band broke.

  “We’re all in agreement,” Mike replied. “We all talked about it and decided it was best.”

  “Alright, I’ll have my lawyer look over the contract to make sure everything is good.”

  “Okay, we’ll move out of the suite. We’re thinking of getting an apartment in LA,” Mike informed him.

  He nodded and walked to his room. Andrew’s silence concerned him, but he pushed it aside as he closed his door. There was a lot of shuffling coming through the bedroom wall. He suspected that they were getting their things. After some time, the main door opened and then slammed. He was alone.

  Two days ago …

  Colt opened his eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness around him. For a moment, he blinked, confused. Then he remembered he was alone in the world. Chelsea left. Reid walked, and now the band was dismantled. He should be feeling free. There was no manager to yell at him to tell him he was fucking up. He should be happy … right? That’s what he always wanted … to be left alone.

  He flicked on the lamp and looked at the watch on the bedside table. It was near 6 a.m.

  “What the hell?” he sat up. “This can’t be right.”

  He swung his feet off the bed and walked to the door. There was a clock in the common area; it must have the actual time. 5:47 on the clock. Peering through the window confirmed that it was indeed morning. He knew the California dawn well.

  For a few seconds, he expected to see Reid standing by the window making his calls or yelling at some incompetent person for making a mistake. Chelsea would be just about coming through the door. She would order breakfast and look at him with her shy sweet smile.

  There was no one coming. He had no friends he cared to call. Colt hadn’t quite figured out his next move yet, and he didn’t care to. He walked to the kitchenette area and pulled open the small refrigerator. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but it wasn’t the juice and water he saw in there. With a little more effort than necessary, he slammed the door shut and yanked one of the tiny cupboards open. A half a bottle of Scotch and a couple of cans of beer stared at him. He picked the Scotch.


  He went back to the living room and dropped himself onto the sofa, picking up the TV remote. Someone knocked at the door, and he was about to answer when the person said, “Room service.” He did not order anything, so he ignored it. After a few minutes, the person walked away.

  One day ago

  Two empty Scotch bottles, two empty beer cans decorated the coffee table. Colt pushed the front door and entered with another bottle of Scotch he’d picked up at the drugstore down the street. His eyes drooped, but he could walk fine. There was a dull ache in his chest that he needed the alcohol to numb. It seemed, no matter how much he drank, it had no effect. He’d fallen asleep after finishing the first bottle and the beers. He then asked the hotel to send up a bottle. After gulping half down, he’d passed out again. The other half he downed that morning, and the pain was still there.

  As he reached his foot to kick the door shut, another foot wedged it. Annoyed, he yanked the door wide open and stared into a familiar face. The man grabbed the paper bag with the Scotch and shoved him into the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the man asked. “Get your shit together, Colt.”

  “Why have you come back?” he asked, his voice thick.

  “I didn’t want to leave. We can start a new band.”

  Andrew opened the Scotch, walked to the tiny kitchen area and dumped the contents into the sink. Colt watched the golden liquid disappear down the drain.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, that was good Scotch!” he bellowed. “Now get the fuck out and go join your disloyal buddies, you fucking …” he stepped towards Andrew, stumbling on the way.

  The anger he’d tried to suppress now flared into rage. He made a step toward the band member and staggered, cursing under his breath. He tried to right himself but fell against the wall. He tried to stand but found he was staggering.

  “What the fuck?” He couldn’t stand straight, and the room began to spin; Andrew began to spin. “Keep still, you f …” His words were cut off as he tumbled to the floor.

  40. Chapter 8

  Present …

  Chelsea pushed the bedroom door all the way and flicked on the light switch. He was lying on the bed, crosswise, fully clothed. The room smelled of booze. The sound of the front door made her backtrack, and she went back to the living room. Pulling his luggage behind him with a gym bag slung over his shoulder, Andrew walked in.

  “Chelsea?” his eyes widened when they saw her.

  “Andrew, you’re back!”

  He dropped his gym bag and leaned the luggage against the wall. “Yes, I came back last evening,” he said, thumbing towards Colt’s room. “He’s in bad shape.”

  “The others, are they coming back too?” she asked, hopeful.

  He shook his head and sighed. “No, they say they won’t be coming back. Tony wants to sign his own label, and the others are going along with him.”

  “Thanks for coming back; he needs all the support he can get. Now, if we can get Reid back, maybe we can pull this off,” she said, still pulling on some hope.

  “That’s right,” he agreed.

  “What the fu …” Colt’s voice sounded at the doorway. His voice trailed off as Chelsea turned.

  At first, he stared at her, then he blinked and stared some more. She slowly walked over to him as his eyes followed her. She stepped close, her nostrils burned from the stench of alcohol. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him close. He stiffened before grabbing her arms, prying them apart.

  “No, I’m not letting you go,” she protested, overlapping her arms behind his back.

  “Let go,” he growled. “Go back home. You deserve better.”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  His hands paused their prying. “What?”

  She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “I’m not leaving, okay.”

  “Okay,” he relented. “I’m too tired to argue with you; we’ll talk about it later.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief that he did not hear her the first time. Baring her soul was too raw now. She was certain he was not in the frame of mind to hear that. She hugged him, and slowly his arms closed around her, tightly.

  “Colt,” she wheezed. “I can’t breathe.” He let his hand drop and stepped back, a sheepish look on his face. “Now, you must take a shower, you stink.”

  “Ah, yeah.” He chuckled.

  Chelsea took the chance to call for the hotel cleaning staff while he was in the shower. It was obvious the room had not been cleaned in days. Now there was one other task that she wasn’t certain she could handle. That task of calling Reid. She stood by the living room window and stared at the phone with apprehension. Finally, she dialed and waited. After three rings, the line opened.

  “Chelsea, are you alright?” Reid’s voice sounded concerned.

  “Hi Reid, I’m fine,” she replied.

  “What can I do for you? I have a lot of contacts; I can get something for you really quick,” he said.

  “No, I have a job … kind of.”

  “That fast? Where … with whom?”

  “With you,” she said in a quiet manner.

  There was silence for a minute, and then he said, “Chelsea, I no longer work with Colt.”

  “I know,” she answered.

  She began to pace the floor, nervous and anxious at the same time.

  “Then you know I have no job as we speak, right?” his voice softened.

  “I know, but Colt needs us and … he needs you.”

  “What?”

  “Please come back, Reid; you can’t just leave him after so long,” she pleaded.

  “Chelsea, where are you?”

  “At the hotel, and so is Andrew. He came back as well, so there is a chance we can do something to fix all this.”

  “It’s not that easy, Chelsea. Colt is a loose cannon, and I’ve had enough,” Reid said.

  “Please Reid, can’t you even come and talk to him, work something out? I mean, he lost his mother, cut him some slack will you?”

  After a few moments silence, she heard him let out a long breath; she held hers in, waiting.

  “I don’t know; we’ll see,” he finally said. “I’ll call you later.”

  Well, she tried. That’s what she told herself. What more could she do? She couldn’t very well drag Reid back. If he failed to return, it would be difficult to rebuild a group. Reid was the one to glue things together. He knew the industry inside out. Without him, or someone like him, it was of no use. Colt, she could manage on her own, but she had no inkling on how to form a band, whom to call to even get auditions going.

  The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she could get nothing done by just sitting and waiting. If Reid didn’t return, she still had to try. If he came back, then all the better. With that mindset, she checked the itinerary. There was another concert in Florida in a month, and then they were back to NY Maddison Square Garden.

  Andrew was on keyboard, Tony had been on bass guitar, Mike on drums and Cory on the electric guitar. Colt played the guitar, so all they needed were someone on bass and drums. She first called Andrew, who was resting in his room. Colt came out after his shower, so there was no need to go into his room.

  He came out shaven, with his damp hair hanging loosely about his shoulders. She felt his eyes burn into her from her position at the window. He leaned against the doorframe where he regarded her. She allowed her eyes to linger on his defined pecs beneath the white T-shirt. Her heart did a somersault and began to do its usual racing at the sight of him.

  “Hey Colt, Chelsea’s got an idea.” Andrew was the first to speak.

  Before Colt could respond, the hotel line rang. Everyone turned to the desk. The loud ring filled the room as everyone stared at it in silence. Chelsea hoped it was Reid, but her feet refused to move to answer it. It rang six times before Colt’s voice moved her into action.

  “Are you getting that?”

/>   She made three strides and grabbed the phone mid-ring. “Hello?”

  “Hello, this is Detective Henry. To whom am I speaking?”

  Her stomach flipped. “Detective, it’s Chelsea,” she replied.

  “Chelsea?” he sounded surprised. “I thought you left. I was going to call you next. It’s good you are there; I’m on my way up to see Colt. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

  “Okay, see you in a bit.”

  “Was that Detective Henry? Did he find anything?” Colt was beside her in seconds.

  “I don’t know; he says he’s on his way. He said two minutes,” she informed him.

  “I’ll go downstairs so you all can talk,” Andrew said, standing and stretching.

  “No, I think you should stay, right Colt?” Chelsea looked pointedly at Colt.

  He nodded. “Sure, why not?”

  One of the many reasons why the other members felt that they could not stay with the band was because they felt left out of everything. Colt would always shut them out and keep to himself. He didn’t allow anyone to get close. He even hated rehearsals. It was a wonder that they were famous. As far as Chelsea was concerned, things would be different.

  The knock at the door brought her thoughts back to the issue at hand. Andrew moved to let in the officer while Chelsea tried to still her unease. She didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it was the memory of her ordeal that made her restless or the anxiety that they did not catch the culprit. Panic froze her in the spot as Henry walked in.

  “What have you got Detective?” Colt asked as soon as the man was through the door.

  Henry took out a notebook and flipped a few pages. “How are you, Chelsea?” he asked, looking at her strangely for a minute. “Are you alright?”

  Her stomach was queasy again, and the headache from earlier began to throb at her temples. “I’m fine,” she managed with a smile.

  She could tell he was not convinced but dropped it. With a nod of the head, he turned to Colt. He flipped through a few more pages of his pad before speaking.