TAMING HOLLYWOOD’S BADDEST BOY

by Monroe, Max

  “I called my sister.”

  “Wow. Really?” Her eyes go wide, and her lips part in surprise. “How did that go?”

  “Well, to be honest, not good,” I admit. “Before I left Alaska to come here, I tried to call her with the number I had saved in my phone, but I quickly realized it wasn’t her current number. Adele tracked down her new number for me, but I’ve left Rocky so many damn voice mails, and I’ve yet to get a response back. So, yeah, it’s not really going…at all.”

  A sigh escapes my lungs. “I feel like a real bastard, to be honest. I have no fucking clue what she’s up to these days, and it’s all my fault. Truthfully, I don’t blame her for not wanting to return my calls, but I’ll keep trying. She deserves that much from me.”

  “You could probably Google her to see what she’s up to,” she teases, and I snort.

  “I’m not fucking Googling my baby sister. No way am I going to use gossip columns to get an update on her.”

  “I can definitely understand that,” she says, her voice the most relaxed and calm it has been since she arrived at my house this morning. After a brief pause, she softens her tone a little and asks a question I should have been expecting. Billie Harris never leaves it simple. “What about your parents? Do you think you’ll try to get in touch with them?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “It’s something I need to think about, but I really don’t think I want anything to do with them.”

  “That makes sense,” she says. “But if my opinion is worth anything, you’re doing the right thing with your sister. I don’t know her, obviously, but I think you both need each other. I don’t know what I’d do without mine.”

  “Your opinion is worth everything,” I say quietly, and Billie’s eyes meet mine. “To me, at least.”

  Her lips part slightly, and fuck, I want to watch her more. I want to search her eyes and ask her what she’s thinking right now, but I’m driving this fucking car.

  Instantly, I bring my eyes back to the road and focus on the priority—getting Billie to the studio safely.

  And the car stays silent for the rest of the ride.

  She mostly stares out the window, and I drive.

  Until I take a right turn into the lot.

  Once the security guard at the gate greets us and lets us through, she turns in her seat to face me as I park the car. “So, are you going to tell me why you lied to me about your car not working?” she asks. “I mean, it’s pretty darn obvious this car has zero issues. It’s a freaking brand-new Porsche.”

  The answer is easy.

  “Because I wanted to see you,” I say and cut the engine. “I always want to see you, princess.”

  Billie sits there, stunned.

  And there’s a part of me that wants to lay it all out there and tell her how I feel and what I want, but our time is short.

  We need to go inside and start our day.

  Son of a bitch. Time is not my friend right now.

  “You ready?” I ask, and she nods her head and clears her throat.

  “Uh…yeah…”

  I hop out of the car and round the front to open her door for her.

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  And then, side by side, we head toward the studio.

  I don’t miss the fact that Billie doesn’t keep her usual distance between us.

  Instead, she’s right there, right beside me, her petite arm lightly brushing mine as we head inside.

  A good sign? God, I fucking hope so.

  Billie

  I always believed one broken bone was easier to break a second time around under stress. Google, however, says I’m wrong as I scroll through the search results while everyone parties around me.

  We’ve been in Austin, Texas, for a few days now, and we’ve managed to tackle every single one of the scenes that we needed to film here, two days ahead of schedule.

  In the world of film production, that is a rarity.

  To celebrate, Serena insisted the team spend the evening drinking and dancing and just having fun at this little dive bar in the middle of downtown. The joint is called El Camino, and I’ve found they serve the best fucking queso that’s ever touched my lips.

  Margaritas are flowing, and the food hasn’t stopped since we stepped in the door.

  Surely, I’ll walk out with an extra few pounds of cheese attached to my ass and hips.

  But it’ll be worth it.

  Production bought out the bar for the night, and as I look around, I’m happy to see a lot of familiar faces. Our director, Mei Chen. Denny from the lighting department. Bob with the camera crew. Olivia and Callie. Laura from the wardrobe department. Lots of actors and actresses, including Lucy Larson, the film’s female lead.

  Oh, and Charles. Yeah, he’s here too.

  My eyes go wide when I recognize one face in particular and tuck my phone back into my pocket.

  The one person I never would’ve thought would come here tonight.

  Luca stands at the bar, chatting with Lucy, and I hate the way my heart twinges at the visual of those two beautiful celebrities smiling and laughing with each other.

  Are you seriously jealous right now?

  I have no reason to be jealous. Luca Weaver isn’t anything to me but an actor working on one of Serena’s movies. That’s it. End of fucking story.

  Lucy laughs, and I have to avert my eyes.

  Sure doesn’t seem like the end of the story…

  I roll my eyes at my stupid internal monologue and take a long, hearty drink of the peach margarita in front of me.

  “Best margaritas ever, right?” Serena asks with a little grin, and I nod.

  “A little too good, if you know what I mean.”

  “I sure do.” A robust laugh escapes her throat. “So much that once I finish this one, I’m calling it a night.”

  “What? Why are you leaving so early?”

  “Because I have to catch an early flight back to LA. Don’t want to miss Maddie’s piano recital tomorrow afternoon.”

  Maddie is her youngest daughter. She’s twelve, smart as a whip, and musically inclined, and Serena never misses a single recital, even when we’re in the middle of a project.

  “You’re a good mom,” I say, and honesty fills my voice. “I don’t know how you juggle all the things, but somehow, you manage it so gracefully.”

  “It’s because I’m a vampire,” she teases. “I don’t sleep.”

  It’s my turn to laugh, and I pretend to scrutinize her face, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “You know, I knew there was something off about you…”

  Serena cackles, and Olivia and Callie join in on the fun.

  We stay at the bar, my back toward whatever is going on behind me, and chat for another twenty minutes about anything and everything, but mostly, the film.

  Not long after, Serena makes good on her promise and leaves El Camino before the rest of her team. But not before telling everyone she better not see any stories on TMZ when she gets back to LA.

  The most challenging part of Espionage is the grueling travel schedule.

  In four days, we’re supposed to head to New York—our last stop in the US. After that, we’ll be overseas—France, Russia, Israel, just to name a few of the international filming locations we’ll be checking off our production list.

  Since we’re ahead of our shooting schedule, most of the cast and crew will enjoy a few days of free time in Austin before needing to head to our next location.

  Well, pretty much everyone but Serena and me.

  Tomorrow morning, I have a flight to West Virginia, to visit my hometown.

  I need to check on Granny’s house, and well, two days from now marks the anniversary of my parents’ death. Every year, I try to make sure I spend that particular afternoon at the cemetery. And, thankfully, since we’re ahead of the game on our schedule, this year, I’ll keep the tradition going.

  “Come on, Billie,” Olivia says, and I look up from the table to
find her standing with her hand held out toward me, and Callie standing beside her. “Come dance with us.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I’m good.”

  “No, you certainly are not,” Olivia refutes. “Get your cute little ass up, and let’s go. You’re literally the only one in this bar wearing boots. And we’re in fucking Texas. You have to dance.”

  A giggle and a sigh escape my lips at the same time, but I give in to their demands and get on the dance floor with them. The song switches from Dixie Chicks to Patsy Cline, and in true Harris fashion, I put my fingers in my belt loops and start to line dance.

  Every wedding I’d ever been to in West Virginia included lots of country music and line dancing. Needless to say, I know a lot of line dances.

  My new favorite pair of cowgirl boots tap across the dance floor, and I simply let go and dance.

  Callie shouts, “Yasss, cowgirl!”

  Olivia laughs.

  And I all but force them to follow my line dance moves.

  Eventually, all three of us are tapping our way through the song, and more of our team joins in. Bob. Lucy Larson. Mei Chen. Pretty much all of the wardrobe department.

  Even Luca.

  Black leather jacket, motorcycle boots, white T-shirt, and a pair of well-worn jeans, he is a Lana Del Rey song come to fucking life. My chest aches a bit, but I force myself to focus on the music. The dancing. The fun everyone around me is having.

  I refuse to notice him or what he’s doing or who is next to him.

  But when Bruce Springsteen starts crooning “I’m on Fire,” it becomes really fucking impossible to do.

  Memories flood my brain.

  Luca and me on that ridiculous hiking trip.

  Me telling him this is the best song to line dance to and him not believing me.

  Us laughing and kissing and just…

  Jesus. Stop it.

  I refuse to go down that path of Memory Lane. I refuse to think back on those moments and memories we shared.

  I tap my boots across the dance floor, and when I turn on my heel, he’s right there, right in front of me.

  He smiles at me. God, I hate how much I love that smile.

  Goose bumps pebble my arms, and before I know it, he is dancing with me.

  One strong arm wrapped around my back and the other pulling my waist closer to his.

  This isn’t good.

  But it feels good…

  That smile of his turns soft and gooey as he stares down at me.

  “Having fun?” he asks, a gentle whisper in my ear.

  A little too much fun. With you, of all fucking people.

  All I can do is nod.

  “I guess you were right, huh?” he says, and I lift a brow up at him. “Bruce Springsteen,” he explains. “Apparently, you can line dance to his music.”

  I offer a halfhearted smile, and he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer, skillfully dancing us around the floor.

  I hate that being this close to him feels like safety. It feels like coming home.

  “Are you still mad at me?” he whispers into my ear. “Do you still not like me, princess?”

  “Yes.” The word pops out of my throat before I can think twice about it.

  I am still mad at him. I hate the way he hurt me in Alaska. But mostly, I hate that over the past several weeks, I’ve been finding it so hard to keep hating all of those things. I hate that my heart wants me to forgive him.

  And I really hate that my stupid heart still wants him.

  God, do I fucking hate that.

  “That’s a shame,” he whispers down at me, and I tilt my head to the side, curiosity getting the best of me.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I don’t want you to be mad at me,” he says, and his lips move closer to my ear. “And I want you to like me like I like you. Because I do, princess. I like you. A lot. So much so that I’m certain it’s a whole lot more than like…”

  I lean back and search his eyes.

  For what, I don’t know. But his eyes are so tender and genuine, and it urges my body to turn soft and relax more into his dancing embrace.

  The song switches over to something less country and more pop. A vibrating boom, boom, boom turns into a seductive beat, and Selena Gomez starts to sing about being in a crowded room.

  Fuck. This song. If I weren’t so lost in Luca’s words and smiles and eyes, I’d think deeper into how perfect this would be if this moment right here, if Luca and me in this dive bar dancing together, was actually a scene from a movie.

  Luca is so close that I can smell the familiar scent of his soft cologne and body wash.

  I can see the small little scar above his right eye.

  And I can feel the warmth of his body. It is engulfing me, cradling me, wrapping me up, and making me want to be closer, closer…closer.

  His gaze never leaves mine.

  It flits from my eyes to my mouth and back to my eyes, and I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. Every cell inside my body is insisting for me to stand on my tiptoes and press my mouth to his.

  God, I just want to feel his kiss again.

  Feel how soft and full his lips are.

  Feel how skilled his tongue his.

  Just…feel that again. Feel him again.

  My body aches and I don’t know how I’ve lost myself so deep in him again, but I have.

  No matter how hard I try to move past what we had in Alaska, to put it out of my mind completely, I can’t.

  I still think about him every day, even when we’re not on set.

  And deep down, I still want him, even though I’m terrified that if he hurt me again, it would destroy me.

  His lips are so close, his mouth mere inches away from mine.

  I stare at them, taking in how soft and full and tempting they are.

  And my body is like butter, melting toward him, getting closer and closer and closer to giving in to the desire to kiss him.

  But my heart and mind are at war.

  Yes, yes, yes! my heart shouts.

  But my mind is reminding me of why I shouldn’t be doing this.

  Why I should walk away.

  Remember that day you said goodbye. Remember the words he said. Remember how he broke your heart.

  Fuck. I do remember that day. I remember leaving his cabin and feeling utterly bereft.

  I remember how much he hurt me.

  Would he hurt me like that again?

  When I don’t have the answer to that question, fear starts to clog my throat.

  And then it starts a rapid path through my veins, hitting every cell inside my body.

  It doesn’t take long for the spell to break, and the urge to flee is overwhelming.

  Instantly, I step back and put distance between us.

  “Billie?” Luca stares down at me, confusion etched across his uncertain lips. “Are you okay?”

  “I just…I just need some fresh air…” I say. I need to get away from whatever is happening between us. “Yeah, I just need some fresh air.”

  I don’t give him any time to respond.

  I can’t give him any time to respond.

  I need to leave, and that’s exactly what I do.

  Off the dance floor, out the entrance doors of the bar, and into the humid Texas night air, I walk away from him before I let myself do something stupid like get hurt again.

  Luca

  The truest hell on earth is not knowing what you’ve got until it’s gone. One minute, she was in my arms and those pretty green eyes of hers were staring into mine, just daring me to kiss her. And the next, she was all but sprinting away from me as fast as she could, off the dance floor and straight for the exit door of the bar.

  I’d felt like maybe she was finally dropping that stubborn fucking guard of hers.

  Like maybe she was going to open up to me.

  But something snapped inside her.

  Her spine stiffened. Her eyes changed from soft and warm and welcoming t
o cold and hard and guarded. And then, she was gone.

  I don’t know where she is going, but out the door and into the humid air, I follow her.

  It’s after midnight, and I refuse to let her wander the streets by herself.

  Thankfully, it doesn’t take me long to find her.

  Tucked in an empty alley on the side of the bar, she leans against a brick wall.

  Her eyes are down, staring straight at the ground, and her shoulders sag forward.

  “Billie?” Carefully, I close the distance. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice is so small, and her gaze is still locked on her damn boots.

  God, just look at me. Talk to me. Tell me what is happening right now.

  Gently, I place my fingers beneath her chin and bring her eyes back to mine. “Billie?”

  She doesn’t respond, but thankfully, her eyes are no longer averted. Staring straight into mine, she searches for something—what, I don’t know. But fuck, I hope it has everything to do with wanting to kiss me again. Because I sure as fuck want to kiss her.

  “What happened back there?” I ask, the tenderness I feel for her more than apparent in my voice. “Why did you run off?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I shake my head. “You know that’s a lie.”

  “Yeah, it is.” She breathes out a deep breath and shuts her eyes for a brief moment. “But only because the truth is too hard to face.”

  “Billie,” I whisper and gently rub my thumb against the skin of her cheek. “Talk to me. Please.”

  She doesn’t respond. Instead, she just stares back at me. But her gaze is still guarded, still stubborn, still keeping a distance from me. Her silence is unnerving.

  Fuck. When is she going to understand that I simply want her? Only her?

  I feel like I’ve been climbing a fucking mountain these past several weeks, trying to get her to forgive me, trying to make her understand, just trying to be what she deserves.

  And right now, I fear maybe I’ll never live up to what she needs.

  “I wanted to kiss you,” she whispers, and my chest blooms and my heart pounds. “In the bar, while we were dancing. I wanted to kiss you so bad, but…I just… I don’t know—”

  My patience gone and her words a catalyst, I place both of my hands on her cheeks and press my lips to hers.