Dirty Boy (26 page)

When she stood up and removed her dress, he didn’t focus on the curves of her body or the glistening juices on her thighs. He saw the bruising on her back and hip. He remembered she’d jumped out of a moving car.

Standing, he repaired his clothes, all the peace he’d found in her arms, fleeing. This would be a long night.

“Take a hot shower. I’ll bring you two Ibuprofen tablets and water, then go to bed.”

Disappointment brightened her eyes. She straightened to her full height and nodded before limping away.

Leaving him more alone than ever.

Over the next two days, Story saw little of Max, so she kept herself busy by dusting, mopping, and vacuuming. Her bruising was really bad, but ice packs and Ibuprofen helped. At first, she was a little leery of being alone, but she refused to ask Max to stay with her and going to the studio to watch him with other women was out of the question.

The thought to call her mother crossed her mind several times, but Story’s anger and sense of betrayal always stopped her.

Max kept his office locked, so she had no access to a computer. The only books in the house were the classics and Story detested classic literature. She found the text slow and boring. After spying a pen in one of the kitchen drawers, she tore several pieces of paper towels, plopped into a stool on the counter and started sketching a skirt and blouse.

Her old sketchpad with all her designs were still in a box in the closet of her mother’s guest room. She’d kept almost nothing from her apartment. Babs had been gracious enough to let Story store her belongings. But Babs always told her she would starve before she broke into the industry.

Settling back, she studied her design, tweaking the buckle on the skirt’s waistband.

Now what? She couldn’t use a roll of paper towels to amuse herself. Maybe, she’d explore the neighborhood. She didn’t have a key, but if she came back within thirty minutes and took care not to lock herself out, it couldn’t do much harm. It was broad daylight. Certainly, Tico wouldn’t strike out in the open.

Liking the idea, Story hurried to get her shoes and then headed into the bright sunshine, the corner café her destination. The warmth on her face and the sounds of outside invigorated her. The silence of the apartment had begun to drive her crazy.

Without money to order food, Story took in the wrought iron chairs and tables, the canvas awning announcing the name of the place, and the few patrons.

How she regretted not bargaining an allowance! However, thanks to her mother’s lies, that probably would’ve been moot.

From time to time, Addie would pop into her head and she regretted not getting her phone number. On the other hand, now that she’d had nothing but her thoughts to occupy her, she wondered how many times Max and Addie had had sex the night of the party. In her head, a lot. She also felt as if he’d seen her since then.

Sighing, Story headed back to the condo. Unease rippled down her back. She chanced a glance over her shoulder but found nothing other than a middle-aged lady guiding a small dog on a leash.

Story picked up her pace, the sensation of being watched crawling over her skin like a million little bugs. Heart pounding, she ran the rest of the way back.

Inside, she leaned against the door and breathed a sigh of relief, wondering if she’d been a victim of her imagination or if someone—
Tico—
had
really been following her.

“All right, children, we’re done for the day,” Eric announced as Max got to his feet and grabbed his shorts.

Stella LaMoan grabbed the comforter to wipe his cum from her stomach before standing up and coming to him in all her naked glory. Unlike most of the girls, Stella had a massive amount of pussy hair. Her fans loved the ginger color. She was now on the roster too, a much bigger star than Addie, whom Max hoped would bring massive publicity to his studio.

Today, they’d shot the double penetration scene that Story should’ve been in. He’d once again had to rewrite part of the script, this time to accommodate Story
not
being in scenes. Even before she’d gone through her ordeal, he’d given her the time off.

“Pizza and wine at my place later tonight?” Stella offered.

“Am I invited as well?” Dominic asked.

“My door is always open to both of you.”

“Max, can we have a quick conference?” Eric interrupted.

“I’ll meet you in the office,” he responded, without giving Stella an answer. They were taking the next four days off. He had to reconfigure the budget, for one thing. His dick needed the rest and he did, too.

In the office, he went to his desk and sat down, undecided on what he’d do for the duration of the day. Avoiding Story took a massive amount of work. The alternative was being in her company after he left the studio and vacillating between mistrust, desire, anger, and possession.

Ryker had been quite apologetic and promised he’d called Tico and straightened it out. Apparently, Tico’s man hadn’t delivered Ryker’s payment before Story’s incident.

Max let it go and, each evening, he helped Ryker edit her deflowering scene, readying to market it in the next week or two. Meanwhile, they needed to do box shots and be seen at a couple of choice spots together to plant the idea of a relationship in the mind of the public.

“Let’s address Story,” Eric said as he walked into the room with Ryker right behind him.

“Yeah,” Ryker agreed, shutting the door and taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Max’s desk.

“She won’t fuck anybody but you.” Eric shook his head in disgust. “I think we should have Stella to play Shelby, instead of giving her a small role.”

“No,” Max said. “Do you know the additional fucking money and time we’d lose? We have six days left to fucking film and you want us to go backwards?”

“Yeah,” Eric said in agreement. “Story’s character is supposed to fuck not only your character, but the attorney and the hit man.”

Ryker looked clear-eyed and alert.

“I already talked to Stella for the lead role,” he said. “She’s game.”

“She may be, but I’m not. She’d want big bucks.”

Eric dropped into a seat and scowled. “This is already a clusterfuck. The bitch has a contract. She can demand all she wants. No new negotiations. Rewrite the lead as a tall redhead to match Stella. Let’s do what needs to be done, start over, and cut our losses.”

“I like Story’s unschooled reactions,” Max admitted. “Her responses are real, which makes my performance more genuine.”

“Her responses are real but her vocals are shit,” Eric complained.

Max frowned as Ryker pulled out another baggie of coke and laid a line on his desk. He’d given Max his word that his tab had been cleared with Tico, so Max remained silent.

“Alan and Win are at the house today,” Eric said. “We’ve been invited to Dad’s for dinner tonight with them.”

Max grimaced in distaste. He had no wish to bask in the glow of his brothers’ happy families. Besides, one of his sisters-in-law crucified him with just a look. She believed the rumors and the photographs that had surfaced. Thinking Max guilty of killing Kayleigh, the woman hated his fucking guts. Rather than tell her to fuck herself, he steered clear of her on his brother’s behalf.

“Dad wants all of us there,” Eric continued.

He hadn’t seen his father in a few days, so he supposed he could suffer through an evening with his brothers and sisters-in-law.

Not long after, Max headed to his house and found Story sitting in a chair on the balcony, chin resting on her arms as she leaned forward, against the railing. Seeing her in the clothes she’d worn the first day she arrived reminded him she had a very limited wardrobe.

He’d been purposely ignoring her and, in turn, had neglected her. He could always bring her another studio outfit, but it was past time to remedy the fuck-up he’d committed by allowing her to have only two outfits for days. “I think it’s time you got some new clothes,” he told her.

“That might require new money, since all my old money is gone.”

“Can we not discuss that?”

Leaning back, Story shrugged. She looked so alone. He thought he’d be happy to have her at his mercy. But it only fucked with him and made him recognize his own loneliness.

“Do you like sex, Story?” Responding to it and liking it were vastly different.

“With you,” she said in her unerring honesty. “But you’ve been with everyone except me.”

“It’s only work.”

She nodded, her look dark. “No one can refute your excuse. It’s so air tight.”

“I’m not getting into this with you. You have to complete your role. To do that, you have to fuck the attorney and the hit man.”

“I see. I guess that’s an order, too.”

“It
is
work,” he reminded her. “I have the authority to order you around when it comes to the movie.”

“Right. When do you want me on set?”

“In a couple of days.”

They fell silent, until she asked, “You’re leaving again this evening?”

Not for the reasons she thought. “Yes.”

“Have fun.”

She sounded sincere, but Max detected a hint of sadness underneath the stoic acceptance she displayed.

He came to a quick decision.

“My father is hosting a dinner tonight and I’d like to bring you. Get you out of the house.”

“No, thank you. I have no wish to be accused and scrutinized for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“No one will do that,” he promised. He’d see to it that they didn’t. “You’ve been stuck in here for days.”

“Max—”

“I want you to come with me.” He’d never uttered truer words. He saw her denial before she spoke, so he raised a hand. “You’re going and that’s final. You need a dress, so let’s go shopping.”

“We’re not on the set.”

“It’s still an order.”

“Asshole,” she mumbled.

He glowered at her.

“Fine! But if I had something to do,
anything
, I’d decline you on both accounts. But I’m going crazy stuck in here, so, yeah, I accept.”

Max allowed her words to go unanswered. They didn’t matter at all. Whether she liked it or not, he had the upper hand and they both knew it.

Story had visited Rodeo Drive once, two years after her mother married Winston. Her mother’s enthusiasm at spending so much money had dampened her own and she’d felt so guilty. Now, as Max guided her into one of the street’s exclusive boutiques, Story gulped back her nerves, not dressed for a place like this.

“Max!” a cultured female voice called a moment before a rail thin woman came into view. The redhead looked as if she belonged on a catwalk, with the way she wore the designer clothes.

“Erin,” Max greet, grabbing her hands and kissing her cheek. “I’d like you to meet Story. I’m leaving her in your very capable hands for a couple of hours.” He looked at Story. “Story, this is Erin. Whatever you need, she’ll be happy to provide you with.”

“Where are you going?” she asked, stepping closer to him and tugging at his arm until he bent so she could whisper, “I have no money, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Straightening to his full height, he grinned at her, transforming his entire face. “Call me when you’re done and I’ll take care of the tab.”

“Okay, got it. You don’t have to leave. I already see an outfit I can wear to dinner tonight.” She pointed to a red column dress.

“You can wear that tonight, but you might be overdressed for every day wear,” he responded.

“Right,” she said with a chuckle. “I thought we’d go somewhere else for jeans.”

Amusement lit up Max’s face. “If you want jeans, you’ll get jeans.” He started for the door, where he stopped. “Story?” he called, halting her advance toward the dress. “Can you do me a favor?”

His soft tone caught her attention and Story looked at him. “Sure, Max. What’s up?”

“Act like a girl and spoil yourself. If
you
don’t spend my money, Erin will do it on your behalf and I’d prefer you pick whatever
you
like.”

“Um…”

“Can you do that for me?”

Not understanding Max’s about-face, Story nodded.

“Good girl,” he said and sauntered out of the shop.

“Well, there you have it,” Erin said the moment Max left.

“Ignore him,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’d like to try on that dress and see a couple pair of jeans and I’ll be good.”

“You aren’t the first woman he’s brought in here, so don’t think you’ll save him money if you don’t purchase anything. You’ll end up with a load of purchases you don’t like. He
will
have me clothe you in an entire wardrobe, so either do it yourself or I’ll do it for you.”

Of course she wasn’t the only woman he’d brought in to shop for. The difference was she’d bet he’d actually
liked
the other women. She sighed. If Max intended to buy her clothes with or without her input, Story might as well participate. While she resided in L.A., she’d use the clothes, then leave them behind once she returned to Dallas.

Her plan settled, she smiled at Erin. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“For clothes or to keep Max from discarding you when he’s done with you?”

“I’ll ignore that,” Story said evenly. “Otherwise, I might have to report you to management.”

“I
am
management,” Erin snapped. “I own the shop.”

“Let me guess. He fronted the money so you can open your shop,” Story said with a roll of her eyes.
How very Christian Grey of him.

“No, he paid me to fuck him onscreen so I could
earn
my money. After me came Greta. Now, you.”

Story glared at her. “Were you a bitch to them, too?”

“No because they knew what they were and used Max as he used them. They didn’t waltz in here with stars in their eyes as if they had him forever.” She sneered at her. “Because you don’t. I’ll bet you twenty bucks he left you with me to fuck another woman. Newsflash: he hates shopping but he loves to fuck.”

“Erin, I may not have the pleasure of reporting you to management, but I can tell Max. You know what else I can do? Walk out that door. If I do, I take a few thousand dollars in sales with me. So make up your mind
now
. You stay out of my business with Max and sell me clothes or I walk out that door and I swear I’ll make sure Max never ever spends another cent in here,” she lied. She didn’t have that type of influence over Max, but Erin wasn’t with them behind closed doors. “
I’m
in his bed at the moment, so back off.”

Huffing out a breath, Erin folded her arms. “Follow me.”

Fuck, but he hated shopping. Hopefully, Story complied with him and spent his money. So while he left her in Erin’s hands, Max strolled along Rodeo Drive to kill time.

With any luck, Erin would offer Story friendship as she had Greta. A class act, Erin hadn’t batted an eye when he’d gotten involved with Greta off-screen, though Erin had been on par with Natalia—a fuck buddy.

Maybe, as he paid for the clothes, he’d ask Erin her opinion of Story.

Glancing at his watch reminded him that Story didn’t have any type of jewelry. Since an hour had already passed, he headed to one of his favorite jeweler’s in search of a watch for Story.

With the passing of another hour, a watch and a pair of gold earrings purchased, Max headed back to Erin’s shop. Inside, he found her assisting another customer.

“Where’s Story?” he asked, glancing around.

Erin laughed brightly. “She went for a walk. Searching for you, I think. She left about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Does she have her purchases?”

“Purchases implied paid for and since the clothes are not, I couldn’t allow her to leave with them. That would be bad business,” she teased.

“You’re correct,” he conceded. “Did she pick out any clothes?”

Erin shrugged. “She overcame her hesitancy as soon as you walked out the door. She went for the most expensive piece in the shop.”

Max paused at those words and narrowed his eyes at Erin. “Cut the bullshit,” he ordered. “That isn’t Story at all.”

“Believe what you will.”

Studying Erin’s sly look, Max shook his head. “I intend to.”

“Are you ready to max out your card?”

Her demeanor spiking his temper, Max shook his head. “I think I’ll find Story first. Let her decide if she wants me to max out my card here or somewhere else.” Not giving her a chance to respond, he stalked outside and paused.

He tried Story’s cell phone but it went straight to voicemail, so he left a message then considered how her mind worked to figure out the direction she’d gone. He concluded Story would head to the last place his car was parked, if only to make sure he hadn’t left her behind.

Five minutes later, his idea paid off when he found her standing near his car.

“Max,” she called, smiling in relief when she sighted him.

“I went to pay for your clothes and found you gone. What happened?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I needed fresh air. I’m not used to having so many clothes thrown at me.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“It was fine, Max. I enjoyed playing the clotheshorse.” She sashayed a few feet before turning and looking over her shoulder, as if she were posing on a runway. “That was fun, although the prices are ridiculous. Do you know she showed me a twenty-thousand-dollar evening gown? Her most expensive item that she tried her best to convince me to buy.”

So, now, he had the real story. “Erin has always been a good friend,” he mentioned casually, gauging her reaction. “I hope she extended the hand of friendship to you, too.”

“You don’t know women very well, do you? Other than to think we’re all evil, money grubbing, um,
cunts
.” She cocked her head to the side. “
Do
you think of women that way?”

He glanced away. “Sometimes.” He’d deal with memories of Kayleigh and Simon as he always had, on his own and by pushing everyone away.

Story was attuned to him, however, and picked up on his change. “Max? Are you….are you okay?”

Suddenly, cold sweat beaded his skin. Turning away from Story, he trembled. “I’m fine,” he bit out. “What do you think I need to know about women that I don’t already know?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Come on. I need to pay for your clothes.”

Without waiting for Story, he hurried back in the direction of Erin’s shop. When he walked in, her eyes widened.

“You’re back,” she blurted.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” he asked, his changed tone not escaping him.

Erin glanced toward the door as Story walked in, then back to him.

“No, Story and I had a great time. She’s a lovely girl.”

She cast an imploring look in Story’s direction. Story returned a slight bury-the-hatchet nod.

It took almost an hour for Erin to ring Story’s purchases. When they were done, Max made her choose four bags, he took four, and then scheduled the rest be delivered to his condo. Arriving at the car again, he placed her purchases on the back seat, since his car had a very small trunk space.

Once they were on the road, Story spoke. “Thank you. I really appreciate what you did for me.”

“It was nothing,” he returned, his entire day ruined with the memories of the most horrible day of his life.

“As long as I’m in the condo, you aren’t alone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She squirmed in her seat. “That you can talk to me and I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“No, you won’t because I don’t intend to talk to you again.”

“Fair enough,” she said quietly. “But that doesn’t invalidate my offer.”