Torn_An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Tristan Vaughan

  He stood up and was heading toward the stairs when my phone rang. He whipped his head around and marched back to the door.

  I had no choice but to answer it. "Morning, James."

  "Not a good one?" he asked.

  "It was."

  James sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. You asked me to check in. I'm not here to enforce your cousin's schedule. Though, I must say, she was very adamant that I try."

  "Let's count that as you trying," I said. "I'll be right down."

  I opened the apartment door and surveyed the stairs. Riley's ex-boyfriend had retreated to the parking lot where he stood next to a rusted car. Right next to him was James and the sleek black luxury car that he polished twice daily. It was a stark contrast, and I was so distracted by it that I tripped over something on the doormat.

  "Careful, man! What's your problem?" Riley's ex charged up the steps.

  I regained my balance and prepared for a fight, but he just knelt down and scooped up the small rosemary plant. He carefully patted it back into its terra cotta pot and then glared at me.

  "Sorry, I didn't see it there. And you are?" I asked.

  He sneered at me. "I'm Owen. I know who you are. You're that disgusting playboy with his own private jet, aren't you?"

  "Is that spiky little plant for me? You shouldn't have."

  He all but snarled. "It's rosemary, you dumbass. It's for Riley and Anna.”

  "Rosemary. They’ll like that. I'll see that they get it." I reached for the plant, but Owen snatched it back.

  "Why would I trust you, rich pig?"

  "Really?" I asked. "Do you really need to call me names?"

  Owen bounced from foot to foot. Then he shuffled forward a few inches. "You're right. What I really need to do is punch you in your smug face. Who do you think you are hanging around Riley? She's not interested in your type. She doesn't need money or fancy things."

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "I haven't offered her any of those things. Yet." The last word was a mistake. It was a lit match against his already explosive attitude.

  "You smug piece of shit." Owen took two steps toward me, only to find his arm yanked so far behind his back that his hand almost touched the back of his head.

  I caught the rosemary before the pot smashed on the ground. "Not necessary, James. This is Riley's ex-boyfriend, Owen. Owen, this is James. If you can't tell already, he's a retired police detective itching to use some of his old skills."

  James let Owen's arm go, but kept a hand at the back of his neck. He waited until Owen had unclenched his fists before he let his hand drop.

  "You don't know me, man," Owen said.

  He looked like a kicked dog. Stringy blond hair fell over his pale blue eyes. When I held out the rosemary, he snatched it back and held it to his chest.

  "I recognize you from a photograph inside." I nodded toward the apartment.

  "How would I know? I haven't been invited in." Owen flinched away from my driver and eyed his rusted car in the parking lot.

  "It's in a frame, and all three of you are standing in front of a rollercoaster. Riley’s holding your hand." James raised an eyebrow at me, but I had to tell him. Owen looked like he hadn't gotten a lot of good news lately.

  "Yeah, that's me." Owen’s blue eyes turned misty. "We were at Six Flags. She and Anna always made me go on trips like that."

  "You didn't like going on weekend trips with Riley?" I asked.

  "I went, didn't I?” he said. “I don't know who you think you are, but I'm telling you, you're just the rebound guy.”

  It seemed to me that plenty of time had passed since their break-up, but I’d talk to Riley about it to make sure. I wasn’t about to consult with Owen on the issue.

  "Well, you must have done something wrong,” I said. “You're her ex-boyfriend for a reason and that has nothing to do with me."

  "She told you I borrowed money from her?" Owen stuck his chin out. "I thought I had the business in the bag but the deal went wrong. Start-ups aren't easy but what would you know? You were probably born with a silver spoon up your ass, right?"

  I uncrossed my arms and leaned on the doorjamb. "You borrowed money from Riley and then blew it all? Not a good way to impress a lady."

  "Anna gets it. Riley used to get it," Owen said. "She knew I wanted more than some nine to five bullshit. But, yeah, I borrowed the money and lost it all. I can't believe she told you that."

  "She didn't," I told him.

  "See?" Owen said. "Riley gets it. I've got these great ideas for products, plus some sweet ideas for the tourist industry around here. All I need is the capital to get it all started and then she'll see. I've got plans and everything—I just need the cash."

  James shook his head, he had heard more than enough. He stepped between us and reached for Owen's arm. The young man was half a foot taller than him but was right to be afraid.

  "Sorry, Owen. James has dealt with more than his fair share of people asking me for money," I said.

  "Ask you for money?" Owen jolted off the railing. "I'm not some sort of charity case and there's no way in hell I would take your money. You know what impresses Riley? People who earn what they have. People who work for it."

  Something about his fierce, earnest expression and his pride impressed me. "Leave the man alone, James. He's not a charity case, and he's not asking me for money."

  James stopped and crossed his arms.

  "So you plan to get some cash, start your own business and product line, then pay Riley back the money you borrowed?" I asked.

  Owen blinked —he clearly had not thought of the third action. "These things aren't easy. Anna’s been helping me make some plans. I don't have regular hours, I don't have an office or fancy khaki pants, but I'm not a bum, if that's what you were thinking."

  James’ raised eyebrow said that was exactly what he was thinking. I watched the tick in his cheek and knew he was just waiting to escort Owen down to his rusty car. If I asked, James would scare Owen right out of Riley's life. Though the way Owen kept saying Anna’s name made me wonder how much of a threat he actually was. It sounded like he wasn’t that interested in Riley anymore.

  "You know, that's the way my family legacy was built," I told Owen. "My great-great grandfather worked two jobs, one in a slaughterhouse, so he could raise enough capital to buy a printing press. It didn't get easier for a long time. Like you said, irregular hours, big losses and small gains, but in the end, he built a publishing empire."

  I pushed off the doorjamb and headed for the stairs. Owen skirted around James and carefully placed the small rosemary plant on the front mat for Riley and Anna to find. He patted the loose dirt back in and swept the outside of the terra cotta clean before he stood up.

  "Are you late for work? Need a lift?" I asked Owen.

  He scowled. "Of course you don't listen. Why would you listen to me? I told you, man, I don't have a regular job right now. I'm trying for something more, and I can't do that if I'm chained to some desk working while someone like you gets rich and fat."

  I paused at the top of the stairs. "I wouldn't think you'd care who you were working for or what you were doing as long as the paychecks came in. When was the last time you had a regular paycheck?"

  "I don't know. That's not my thing." He shrugged.

  "But it's an easy thing," I said. "You must know how much money you need, down to the last cent. Then you can calculate just how long you need the job before you can go out on your own. That way you don't owe anyone, right from the start. You were right about women liking a man who earns his own way."

  Owen snorted. "How would you know? You don't have a job. From what I hear, you just flit around on your private jet or some yacht the size of a small island. You don't even drive yourself. Can you even drive?"

  I laughed. "Would you believe me? I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear about all my cars and which ones I like to drive." I went down the steps. James waited expectantly, but I said to him, "I'll call you if I need anything."
r />   James pinned me with a dark look. Then he slipped into the sleek black car and sat like a statue behind the steering wheel.

  "Kinda psycho," Owen said. He gave my driver a nervous glance as he shuffled past to his rusted car.

  "The opposite," I said. "James can spot a lie, a scam, or a conspiracy from five hundred feet. Sorry about the twisted arm, but he likes the exercise."

  Owen rubbed his arm and glanced back up to the girls’ apartment.

  "They’re both in class,” I said.

  Owen stepped toward me again. "I think Anna likes you, but Riley doesn't really want you in her life. You're not her type."

  I ignored the feeling of doubt that dropped in my stomach. "Since you don't have a job to get to, how about you show me around Santa Cruz?" I asked.

  Owen's jaw hit his chest.

  I smiled. "No big thing. Just grab something to eat, maybe talk a little more about your ideas. I might have some ideas of my own about finding you a job to earn that start-up money."

  "No, no, that's crazy." Owen threw his long arms up. "You're crazy if you think I want to be anywhere near you. How am I supposed to sit across a table from you when you’re trying to use Riley."

  "You can sit across from me, Owen. We can have a nice, civilized lunch," I said.

  "See? You rich bastards never listen to what people are actually saying—"

  "No, Owen," I said, "you're not listening. I'm saying you shouldn't have any problem sitting across from me at lunch because I’m not trying to use Riley. I really, genuinely like her."

  His pale blue eyes rounded. "You’re not stringing her along? She’s gone on dates with some total losers."

  I took a deep breath and tried not to laugh at the irony—according to Riley, Owen was a total loser. "I promise —I only have her best interests at heart. I want to get to know her."

  Owen's expression changed. His forehead smoothed, his mouth relaxed, and a warmer light gave his pale eyes more color. "Yeah, I guess I believe you.”

  He didn’t care that I was going after Riley. It only strengthened my suspicion that he had a secret crush on Anna. "So, know any good places for lunch?"

  Owen grinned. "Yeah, but we have to take my car."

  I looked at the rusted out sedan. It was impossible to tell the original color because every paint scrap that hadn't been eaten away was faded from the California sun. Inside, the cloth seat covers were torn and splotchy.

  "No problem. Where are we going?" I cranked open the rusty door and got in.

  "There's a surf shack up the coast about three miles. Don't worry, I'll drive slow so your henchman can follow."

  I laughed. "Drive fast. I wanna see the look on his face if you lose him."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Riley

  I could have rented my own apartment, but Anna had understood why I didn't want to spend more of my grandfather's money. I stood to inherit more money if I kept to certain conditions, but I wanted to be prudent. I wanted my grandfather to be proud of me. Plus Anna knew the draw her small apartment had for me. The first time we’d pulled into the parking lot, Anna got out and reached her front door while I was transfixed, staring at the ocean. The three-story apartment building was built just a sand dune away from the beach.

  Now I only glanced at the silver-glinting waves. Instead of letting the rhythmic surf calm me, it stirred up memories of walking on the beach with Landon. I tried instead to concentrate on the parking lot and fitting my car into a tight spot without scraping the paint.

  It was a relief to see that Owen's car was gone. A totally different wave pressed me back into my car seat. What was going to happen when Owen ran into Landon?

  My first thought was that Landon would look straight through my ex-boyfriend. Owen went out of his way to be noticed because physically he was tall and thin and had a quiet look. To me, that explained his attitude and constant bravado. Landon wouldn't see him as a peer or even a rival.

  "Too bad quiet confidence isn't catching," I muttered. If it was, I'd be all for Landon meeting my ex-boyfriend.

  I spied the rosemary from the stairs and ran to scoop it up. Even without a label or love note, I knew it was from Landon.

  I fumbled with my keys, distracted by a wild daydream where Landon was waiting for me inside. Him, on my bed, bare-chested under his open white shirt.

  I was almost relieved when I found our apartment empty. My cheeks were hot from the flash fantasy, and I was glad for a moment to clear my head. Still, I peeked into my room on the way to the kitchen, just in case.

  I watered the little rosemary pot, found a sunny nook on the kitchen windowsill for it, and took the time to cut a fragrant bouquet garni. I still hoped Landon would be cooking lasagna. Once the herbs were tied tight with kitchen twine and hanging from the window latch, I allowed myself a glance at my phone.

  No new messages.

  I leaned on our sliver of a counter and willed my phone to ring. When the screen lit up, I gave out a small shriek. I picked it up, laughing, and then sighed. Another text message from Owen. He wanted to make dinner with Anna and me.

  I shook my head. Owen was an old friend and when he first arrived in Santa Cruz, it made sense. It was awkward, but Anna and I didn't want him to feel lonely after such a big move. Then he got into his own loose definition of a routine with his friends or business partners, and I tried to get some space. That's when he started hanging out in our parking lot. He'd be there with Anna when I got back from class, or just show up with sandwiches around lunchtime, and he pretended like it was normal and innocent.

  I had hoped that his time alone back home, without me, would have straightened up and motivated him. He was motivated but in his own way. I knew that no matter what, I would never go back to that dead end relationship. I liked Owen as a person, but we weren’t right for one another.

  I forced myself to walk out of our kitchen and cross the tiny living room to the front window. I inched my way to the corner and peeked through the fronds of a maidenhair fern. Expecting to see Owen waving from the hood of his rusty sedan, I scanned the parking lot. Owen and his dented heap were nowhere to be seen.

  The flash of sunlight off a shiny car turned my attention back to the parking lot. Landon's glossy black sedan pulled up to the steps, and James came around the car to help Landon out. I squeaked and dropped down out of sight.

  Landon was back. My heartbeat drummed in excitement.

  I scurried to the bathroom to check my hair. When I reached up to comb out the tangles, I realized I was still holding my phone. The screen lit up with another text message from Owen. I tossed it in my makeup bag and retrieved a light rose-colored lipstick instead.

  "Hello?" Landon called. There was a muffled knock and then a rustling and thumping outside the door.

  I heard a few choice swear words before I let him in. A bag of groceries tumbled inside, but Landon caught it just before I was pummeled with a head of lettuce. He stood up and hoisted the bag under his arm. Then he smiled. I smiled back, feeling like a goofy teenager.

  Then his other grocery bag tore open. A variety of fruit and vegetables rolled into my apartment.

  "You look nice," Landon said. "That shade of pink suits you."

  I remembered the lipstick and grazed my lips with my tongue. Landon's eyes went from ocean to cobalt blue and neither of us moved to retrieve the rolling produce.

  Then I shook my head and stepped back, almost tripping on an apple. "Come on in. I'm so glad you're back. I mean, Anna and I don't mind cereal for dinner, but whatever you've got here looks a lot better."

  "Well, I hope you don't mind if I changed the menu from lasagna to something a little more ambitious." He handed me one grocery bag, then bent to scoop up what had fallen with one hand.

  I set the bag on the counter. When I turned around, Landon was behind me and the bag he held was crushed between us. His eyes landed on my lips again and slowly trailed up to meet my gaze. Heat ignited inside me and I gave a nervous titter to relieve s
ome of the pressure.

  Landon chuckled too. Putting the groceries away became a hilarious game of tangled limbs and brushing bodies. The small kitchen made it impossible to turn around without coming nose to nose, and we smiled each time we almost collided.

  Instead of dumping all the fruit and vegetables into one of the refrigerator drawers, I reached for one at a time.

  "I am clearly in over my head," Landon said.

  "With this dinner, or something else?" The fire leapt to my cheeks. All I could think about was kissing him, and now I was just saying the first thing that popped into my one-track mind.

  "One way to find out," Landon murmured.

  All he had to do was lean and I was caught between him and the kitchen counter. I could have pushed him back, but my hands slid up his shoulders and behind his neck instead. Then I stood on my tiptoes and caught him off balance with a kiss.

  He pulled me closer to him. I was lost in the brush and press of his lips against mine when his hands encircled my waist. He melded me to him and there was only one thing I could do.

  I swept my hands to his chest and pushed. I broke away from the kiss and dropped back to the counter. "Sorry," I said. "I just, um. Would you like a beer? I think Anna has some stashed in the back of the fridge."

  Landon leaned forward again, but then caught himself. "Yeah, a beer sounds great. How was class?"

  I shrugged and dug out two beer bottles. "You don't want to hear about that. What did you do all day? Are you going to go down to the boardwalk?" My heart raced as I could still feel his hard body in my hands and feel his soft lips on mine. I wanted another kiss but resisted the urge.

  He smiled. "I do want to hear about your classes. I think viticulture is a really interesting graduate degree. How was your, what was it, botany lecture?"

  I handed him a beer and jumped up to sit on the counter. "It was fine. I was a model student, great notes and everything, until you sent along that cat selfie."