Breaker - A Fake Boyfriend Romance (Criminal Passions Book 3)

by Layla Valentine

  Breaker

  Contents

  Breaker

  1. Sierra

  2. Caleb

  3. Sierra

  4. Caleb

  5. Sierra

  6. Caleb

  7. Sierra

  8. Caleb

  9. Sierra

  10. Caleb

  11. Sierra

  12. Caleb

  13. Sierra

  14. Caleb

  15. Sierra

  16. Caleb

  17. Sierra

  18. Caleb

  19. Sierra

  20. Caleb

  21. Sierra

  22. Caleb

  23. Sierra

  24. Caleb

  Epilogue

  Sinner

  1. Markus

  Want More?

  Also by Layla Valentine

  Copyright 2020 by Layla Valentine

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Sierra

  The restaurant was beautiful. The wine was delicious. The dress I wore was the nicest I owned. Even the music playing was pretty good.

  But none of that mattered. I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my life.

  “Another?” The bartender, a handsome man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in all black, stopped in front of me. His eyes flicked down to the nearly empty glass of red wine in front of me.

  I knew I shouldn’t have. One drink should’ve been all I’d allowed myself to take the edge off my worries.

  Fuck it.

  “Sure. I’ll have another.”

  He smiled, giving me a professional nod before taking down the bottle from a rack above and pouring me another glass.

  “On the tab?” he asked.

  “On the tab.”

  That was a whole other thing. The decision I’d made, the one that would change my life for good—it didn’t exactly mean good news for my bank account. Eleven-dollar glasses of wine weren’t exactly in my new budget.

  But at that moment, it didn’t matter.

  I took a quick sip of the rich, red wine, hoping it would quell my nerves.

  It was a nice restaurant my parents had picked out—I had to give them that. They were rich as all hell, and apparently good taste came along with that. The bar was dark wood, the lighting was low and warm, the service staff silently moved through it all. The light sounds of conversation filled the air and mingled with the music in the background.

  I took out my phone and checked the time. It was nearly six thirty, and I was set to meet my parents at seven. I had no idea why I’d shown up so early—maybe because puttering around in my apartment, nervously pacing a groove into the ground, didn’t sound like the most appealing thing in the world.

  Nope. Better to get here and try to get this all over with as quickly as possible.

  My phone buzzed in my hand. I was so wound up, so jumpy, that I nearly dropped the thing onto the counter in shock.

  Get a grip, Sierra. You’re not walking to your execution—it’s just telling your parents that…

  God, I couldn’t even finish the thought. I turned my attention back to the phone. It was my best friend, Maggie.

  “Hey!” I said, trying to sound chipper, like nothing was wrong. “What’s up?”

  “A better question is, what’s up with you?”

  “Uh, what are you talking about?”

  “How long have we been friends for?”

  “Ten years?”

  “Eleven. And don’t you think in that amount of time I’d learn when you’re being pretend-cheerful, and when you actually are?”

  Busted. Should’ve known Maggie would be able to see right through me. Or hear right through me, in this case.

  “All that by my tone of voice?” I sipped my wine again.

  “Like I said, I know you up and down, in and out. Might as well come clean with me.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to begin. The issue I was dealing with, the one that was coming to a head that very night, was one I’d been trying to keep to myself. But sitting there at the bar, knowing my parents would be coming in any moment, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Maggie prodding me just a little was all it took.

  “It’s about med school…” I trailed off.

  “You mean the med school that you dropped out of? When you decided that you didn’t want to be a doctor? When you made possibly the biggest decision of your life on a total whim?”

  “It wasn’t a whim,” I said. “I’d been thinking about it for a long, long time.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just teasing. You know I agree with you. But what about it? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

  “Not having second thoughts. Not even a little. But…tonight’s the night.”

  “The night for what?” There was a pause, then, “Holy shit—are you telling your parents tonight?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ohh…,” she said. “Are you there with them right now?”

  “No. We’re set to meet here at seven. I showed up early to… I don’t know. But each minute that passes it gets worse. I feel like I’m about to come apart at the seams.”

  “I don’t blame you. Being a doctor’s been your parents’ dream for you since you were a kid.”

  “And I thought it was my dream, too. But the more I got into my pre-med, the more I started having second thoughts.”

  “Right. I mean, the life of a doctor’s not for everyone.”

  “Not me, evidently. I mean, saving lives and all that sounds good. But there just wasn’t any passion there. I felt like I was going through the motions. And it didn’t seem fair to me that if I got in, that might mean I’d be taking the spot of someone who really, really wanted it. You know?”

  “It makes sense,” Maggie said, not missing a beat. “And you know I’m on your side for this one. You need to take some time and figure out what you really want to do. Don’t get me wrong—your parents are great. But they’ve had you on a track for so long that I think you’re due for some freedom.”

  Freedom. That was it. That was the word, the idea, that made it all worthwhile. I wanted to be my own person, to make my own decisions, to chart a course for my life that I knew would make me happy. My parents loved me, but this was something I could only do for myself.

  “You get it. I knew you would.”

  “Of course I do. I’m your best friend, remember? But…that doesn’t mean tonight’s going to be any easier.”

  Another right-on-the-money statement.

  “But look at it this way,” she went on. “Nothing in life that’s worth having is easy, right? I don’t have any doubt that a year from now you’ll be well on your way to living a kick-ass life on your terms. But you won’t get that without putting in some hard work. Tonight’s the first of that.”

  “I know, I know. That doesn’t make it any less hard, though. And tonight’s only the beginning. Even if I get through it without my parents disowning me, I still have to worry about getting a new job and apartment and everything else that comes with paying my own way.”

 
“But doesn’t that kind of excite you? Everything you’ll have will be because you worked for it. No one will have given you a damn thing. You’ll be able to take a look around your life and be like, ‘I did this.’”

  A small smile spread across my face at her words. Maggie was always good like that, always seeing the positive side of life.

  “You’re right. I know you are.”

  “There’s that old, corny saying about a journey of a thousand miles starting with a single step. But it’s true, Sierra, and you’re at the first step. It’s a big, super difficult step, sure, but you’re going to take it. And you’re going to be glad you did.”

  I sipped my wine, feeling a little better.

  “All right,” I said. “I’m starting to feel like maybe I can handle this.”

  “No ‘maybe’ about it. You’ll be fine. And if you have a bad night, you know I’m here for you.”

  “Thanks, Mags.”

  “Anytime, babe. Keep me posted, okay?”

  “Will do.”

  With that, we said our goodbyes and I hung up.

  The moment I slipped my phone back into my pocket, the anxiety returned. It wasn’t as intense as before, but it was still there, gnawing away at me. Part of me wished I could call Maggie back and put her on speakerphone, keeping her on the line while I talked to my parents.

  Totally ridiculous, sure, but it all seemed so insurmountable. But I had to do it. I had to pull the trigger.

  I sighed and took another sip of my wine. Right as I set down the glass, a figure settled into the open seat next to mine.

  “Let me guess, you’re a Virgo?”

  I didn’t need to look up to know what was going on. One more deep breath, but this one out of frustration rather than fear.

  A glance to the side revealed a middle-aged man in an expensive suit, the buttons of his dress shirt down enough to expose a pasty expanse of skin covered in thick chest hair. His face was fleshy, his eyes a watery blue. His dark hair was slicked back. A gaudy ring was on his pinky finger. Everything about him screamed “lots of money, no taste.”

  “Nope,” I said, bringing my eyes back to my drink. Part of me hoped that by ignoring the guy, I could get him to go away. But I’d been hit on by enough sleazy men to know that only made them more insistent.

  “Okay, then. How about Leo? You’ve got a way about you, one that makes me think you love the spotlight.”

  I turned back to him, watching as he sat back, as if trying to get a sense of me.

  “You ever done photography?” he asked. “Movies?”

  I sighed. “Listen, I’m meeting some people here. I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but—”

  He grinned, revealing a row of what appeared to be perfect veneers. “I assure you, I’m anything but a nice guy.”

  He didn’t need to tell me twice. The man extended a hand toward me, one that was just as fleshy as the rest of him.

  “Phil Johnson. A pleasure to meet you. And when I say a pleasure, I mean it.”

  At that moment, my parents coming in would’ve almost felt like a blessing.

  “Sierra Finch,” I said, taking his hand. And I kept it at that.

  The skin of his hand was cold and clammy. I swiftly drew my hand back, wiping my palm against my dress.

  “So,” he said. “Ever done it? Photos, movies?”

  “I took some pictures for a photography class back in high school. But that’s really it.”

  He shook his head, bringing his olive-packed martini to his lips.

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m asking if you’ve ever been in pictures.”

  “Um, no.”

  “That’s a damn shame. Gorgeous girl like you with a killer body like that—it’s a waste to keep it under clothes.”

  “What?”

  “Think about it. You in a skimpy little two-piece, posing next to a pool. I do a little work like that, and I can tell right now you’ve got what it takes. A woman as beautiful as you, you don’t need to work for a living.”

  I was stunned, so stunned that I had no idea what to say.

  “How about this,” he said, leaning forward, close enough that I could smell his sweat. “I’ve got a room at the hotel down the street. We finish these drinks and head back there, and I take a few sample pictures. Some tasteful stuff—I bet you’ve got a sexy little pair of bra and panties under that dress. And, well, if the night takes us someplace…fun, then so be it.”

  He grinned again. I couldn’t believe how forward this guy was being, how freaking sleazy. Part of me wanted to toss my glass of wine into his face and follow it up with a hard slap.

  But before I could say or do anything, a hand came down onto my shoulder. Phil and I looked up, and what I saw nearly took my breath away. Standing at my side, all smiles, was about the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life.

  “There you are, darling. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Chapter 2

  Caleb

  She was shocked, but that was to be expected. After all, she didn’t know the con I was trying to run.

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to be at the bar,” I said with a grin.

  I’d been in the con game for years. And part of being successful at this particular line of work is being one-hundred-percent unflappable, no matter what. You can have the most perfect line in the world, your entire routine rehearsed, but every grift manages to throw a curveball or two your way.

  In this case, the curveball was that the woman I was talking to happened to be so gorgeous I could hardly think straight. She was slender and leggy and blond, the dark blue cocktail dress she wore hugging her every curve. Her eyes were icy blue, her face heart-shaped.

  I felt like a kid about to ask his crush out to the winter dance. My heart raced, and I had trouble focusing. Nothing to do but press forward. That, and hope she picked up on what was going on and didn’t tell me to screw off.

  “Um… sorry, babe,” she started. “You know I don’t like sitting at a table all by myself. Thought I’d grab a drink at the bar first. And besides, if you’re going to show up late as always, don’t be surprised when I decide to pass the time how I like.”

  I had to use every bit of restraint I had not to grin from ear to ear. Not only did she pick up on what was going on, but she improvised like a pro.

  I glanced over at the sleazeball currently putting the moves on her.

  “Was I interrupting something?”

  The boorish “charm” he’d been laying on her faded, a worried expression taking hold. “Ah, I was just keeping your lovely girlfriend company while she waited.”

  “That right?” I asked.

  She smiled. “Actually, he was just suggesting that I go to his hotel room. Said something about taking some pictures?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? What kind of pictures are we talking, friend?”

  His face turned a deep shade of red. “Um, just some headshots for potential modeling gigs. Nothing to worry about.”

  I grinned again. “Call me suspicious, but when someone tells me not to worry, well, that has a way of getting me worried. You dig?”

  “Well, in this case you don’t need to be worried in the slightest. I was just, um, admiring her obvious beauty and thought it’d be nice to share it with the world. Maybe make a little money in the process.”

  “Share it with the world… Wow, you’re sounding downright benevolent, bud. You weren’t thinking of having a little for yourself first before being so charitable, were you?”

  “Not at all! I just…” he trailed off.

  Part of me wanted to watch him squirm a little longer. But more than that, I was ready to move on from one con to another—the one that she wasn’t in on.

  I put my hand on his shoulder, adding just enough pressure to let him know I wasn’t being exactly friendly about the whole thing.

  “How about this—you get up out of that seat and let me have a drink with my girlfriend. And you can go find some
other girl to trick. That sound good?”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Doesn’t matter to me what you say you were doing. Now, I’m going to thank you for getting the seat nice and warm for me, then bid you a good night. If you’re smart, you’ll leave it at that.”

  He was pissed, but more than that I could tell he knew he was in a bad spot, caught in the act.

  “Fine,” he said sullenly. “Have a good night. And it was a pleasure meeting you.”

  He slumped in his bar stool, as if he were a big balloon with the air draining out of it. I gave his shoulder another squeeze before he took his martini, finished it, and slid out of his chair. I watched as he shuffled off to the other side of the bar, plopped into a chair, and ordered another.

  Mission accomplished.

  “Now,” I said, sliding into his chair, which was surprisingly warm. “Normally I would ask before sitting down next to a stranger at a bar, being the gentleman that I am. But in this case we need to keep up appearances. Don’t want your friend getting any funny ideas, right?”

  She smiled, fingers toying with the stem of her glass. “And I wouldn’t normally let some stranger sit next to me at a bar. But you’re right—in this case I think we can make an exception.”

  I extended my hand. She took it, her skin soft, her nails manicured French-style.

  “I’m Caleb,” I said.

  She glanced down at my hand before looking up at me, a sly smile forming on her full, red lips.

  “Now, doesn’t this look strange? After all, why would my boyfriend be shaking my hand like this?”

  Her hand lingered in mine. She was right. I needed to keep the fake-boyfriend charade going.