The Billionaire’s Forbidden Little Sister

by Monroe, Max

  “Is it serious between you two?”

  “Between me and Theo?”

  She tsks. “Of course. Who else would I be talking about?”

  “Yeah.” I look toward the living room in hopes that my brother will spot me, but he’s too busy hugging on Ruby to notice our mother has trapped me in the damn dining room. “I guess it’s getting pretty serious.”

  “Well, you’re not getting any younger, dear.” Vicky gives me her very much unwanted opinion. “So, I hope you take this relationship seriously and see it all the way through.”

  “See it all the way through? What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you should realize this is your chance to secure a stable future for yourself,” she explains.

  “I don’t need a man to have a secure future for myself, Mother,” I say, standing up for myself.

  “Oh, and you think that fashion internship is going to help you with that?” My mother scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. That little fashion internship of yours is all but securing you a spot selling clothes at Walmart.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  “What’s so bad about selling clothes at Walmart?” I ask, and my mother looks like she swallowed a lemon. “I mean, that’s a pretty big deal for a designer to get their clothes into any store.”

  Sure, my end goal isn’t to have a clothing line in a store with a greeter in a blue vest, but still. No matter where my fashion career takes me, I’m simply going to be proud of any opportunity that turns into people actually wearing my clothes.

  She shudders in disgust. “No one wants to sell clothes in Walmart. And I certainly do not want a daughter selling clothes in a god-awful store like that.”

  Could she be any more disconnected from the real world?

  Could she be any more superficial?

  “Forget the internship and focus on the man, dear,” she adds. “Trust me on this. Your future will thank you.”

  My future will thank me.

  As if money is everything.

  As if the only way to be successful and happy in my life is to have a rich man with a big-ass bank account willing to foot the bill.

  I’ve never been more appalled in my life.

  Once Vicky has had her fill of berating me, she strides into the living room and sits down beside my father.

  And I’m just kind of left standing in the dining room, wondering how this woman could be my mother.

  I am nothing like her.

  Nor will I ever be anything like her.

  I tell myself that I’m going to ignore her bullshit.

  I tell myself that it will all be okay.

  But by the time I’m getting ready to head home for the night, her words just keep rolling around inside my head.

  And that too-thrilled look that appeared on her face when Theo’s name was mentioned is all but imprinted in my mind.

  No matter how awful she is, I’ve always wanted my mother’s approval.

  I’ve always craved acceptance and words of encouragement from her.

  Unless I marry some rich guy and give up my fashion design dreams, I know I’ll never receive those things from her.

  Yeah, but you do have a rich boyfriend. Not to mention, you’re skipping out of your internship for a few days to go to Paris with him.

  So…if you keep up this pace, maybe you will receive those things from her…

  By the time I’m on the subway and heading for my apartment, my head is a mess. Vicky’s words are all jumbled up inside my mind, and I can’t tell right from wrong and wrong from right.

  And mostly, I’m just freaked out over every-damn-thing.

  How I feel about Theo.

  How fucking fast the word love has started to pop into my head when it comes to him.

  I’m not supposed to be falling in love right now.

  I’m supposed to be focusing on my career first.

  Love was supposed to come after I established myself as a fashion designer.

  The fact that I’m so far deep into something that bears a strong resemblance to love with Theo and was more than willing to fuck off from my internship for a few days just so I could gallivant around Paris with him is making me feel out of control.

  It’s all too reminiscent of the Lena I promised myself I wouldn’t keep being.

  The impulsive girl who was too spontaneous for her own good.

  I try to tell myself that it’s all okay.

  I try to tell myself that love comes at its own time.

  I even try to tell myself that my trip to Paris includes internship tasks for Loro.

  But by the time Theo texts me, it’s no use. I’m too far out of control to even know what I’m thinking or feeling anymore.

  Theo: You still at dinner?

  I frown and type out a short message.

  Me: No, I’m on the subway. Almost home.

  Theo: Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve picked you up. I hate that you’re riding the subway this late.

  Me: I’m a big girl, Theo. Pretty sure I can handle the subway at ten o’clock at night.

  Theo: You sound…off. Everything okay?

  Me: Yeah. It’s just been a long day.

  Theo: Do you want some company?

  Me: Honestly, I think I’m just going to go to bed.

  Theo: Okay. Well, I’ll miss seeing you when I wake up tomorrow, but I’ll just keep in mind that soon I’ll have you all to myself for four days in your favorite city in the world.

  Paris. I grimace. My fingers are typing out a reply before I can stop myself. I can’t fucking be the girl who goes to Paris. The girl who says fuck everything else for some guy. God. So many years of listening to my mother’s bullshit, of knowing I want nothing to do with it, and here I am, throwing it all away over a trip.

  Me: I don’t think me going to Paris is a good idea. I really shouldn’t miss days from my internship. I’m just…I don’t know, Theo. I’m just confused. I’m just…I’m not sure about anything right now.

  Theo: What are you not sure about, Lena? The trip to Paris? Your internship? Or us?

  Me: I don’t know. Everything. Us.

  Tears stream down my cheeks and my heart sinks to my fucking shoes when I reread what I sent him.

  This feels so wrong.

  But it has to be right. I’m a woman prone to distraction, but I want to be a woman who makes her own success in life.

  The only way to keep my focus is to cut distraction out completely.

  Theo

  I read her last message. I don’t know. Everything. Us.

  It feels like the goodbye letter all over again. It feels like Lena is just wanting to hide her head in the fucking sand and not face this head on, and it takes everything inside me not to hop in the car and drive to her damn apartment and make her tell me how she’s feeling to my face. Make her explain what in the fuck is happening right now.

  But even though I’m pissed, I’m hurt, I’m all the fucking bad things, I can’t do that to her.

  Me: Do you want to slow things down with us? Is it moving too fast for you?

  Lena: I don’t know what I want anymore.

  Her response doesn’t offer any hope, so I bite the bullet and call her. She doesn’t answer until the fourth and final ring, but she does answer. And I guess that counts for something.

  I don’t soften the reality with a faulty greeting or sweet reassurances. Instead, I ask the only question that really matters anymore. “Answer me this, Lena. Can you see a future with me?”

  “Theo…I…I have to focus on a future where all I picture is me.”

  Her response tells me everything I need to know—she doesn’t want to picture a future with me.

  My heart breaks into a million fucking pieces.

  “I’m a patient man, Lena. I understand the need to do things on your own and focus on yourself…” I pause just long enough to take a deep inhale and gain the strength to say words I don’t want to fucking say. “But no amount of patience can c
hange your mind if it’s already made up. I know I want to be with you, but if you don’t feel absolutely certain that you want to be with me, then you shouldn’t be with me.”

  What’s left of my heart just kind of evaporates into the painful silence that fills the line.

  And when she finally responds, her voice is soft and ragged. “I’m so sorry, Theo.”

  That I’m sorry isn’t really a sorry at all. It’s a finality.

  It’s an I don’t want to be with you.

  “I guess your mind is made up then, huh?” I shake my head against the blinding pain and steel my voice. “Lena, when you’re looking back on this and questioning everything that happened, you need to remember one very important thing—this was your choice. I was all in, but it’s impossible to stay all in with someone who’s looking for a way out.”

  I hang up the phone and I force myself not to feel badly about it—which is obviously just a sack of shit lie I’m telling myself.

  But what the hell other option do I have? I mean, what do you say to a person who’s shut the door on the possibility of a future with you?

  I’m in love with you? Yeah, right. Sounds needlessly pathetic for me and like an even better reason to run away for her.

  Maybe if I give her space and time, she’ll figure out what she wants?

  Maybe she’ll realize that what we had was something special?

  Something worth fighting for. Something that could last forever.

  Or maybe she’ll never realize that—and this is really the end.

  Theo

  Smoke swirls and cards shuffle in Thatcher Kelly’s apartment for the first time in a year.

  Poker night hasn’t been poker night since Cap turned it into book club and trapped us in a prison of romance novels and never looked back, but for some reason, tonight, upon my arrival, I found the table set up with plastic chips and stacks of cards instead of books and crudités.

  No one’s said anything about what’s going on yet, and truth be told, I haven’t cared to ask. I’ve given up caring about most things since Lena ended our relationship three days ago with a string of text messages and a pity phone call.

  Thatch deals cards to everyone at the table, and when I peek at my hand to find two queens—a pretty top-notch Texas Hold’em hand—I feel zero excitement.

  But it’s no surprise, besides work obligations, I’ve taken the apathetic approach to pretty much everything.

  Kline raises before the first three face-up cards hit the table, and I fold my hand, choosing to focus on my drink instead.

  I take a swig of whiskey—something I’ve avoided carefully until now for fear of not being able to stop—and I have to admit, the burn of each sip of liquid as it slides down my throat tastes really fucking good.

  I’m rolling my glass around to swirl the amber alcohol over my cubes of ice when Wes speaks up.

  “All right, I give. I was afraid to talk for fear that speaking would ruin the magical switch back to actual poker night, but after staring at Pod Theo for the last fifteen minutes, I can’t fucking take it anymore. What the hell is going on?”

  My head jerks up at the sound of my name, at roughly the same time as all the other talking heads in the room swing toward me, but other than an indifferent purse of my lips, I say nothing.

  “See!” Wes exclaims at my nonreaction, slamming his palm down onto the felt. “Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on. No way our Theo would let me talk about him without some kind of verbal reaction.”

  “Our Theo?” Cap questions with a sardonic laugh. “Your Theo, maybe, Whitney. I’m still working against the urge to kick him in the nut sac.”

  I laugh because, for some reason, getting kicked in the actual nuts seems like a reprieve from the silent pain I’m in now.

  Cap, even at his most confrontational, notices the odd nature of my reaction.

  “I threaten to give you a blow to the junk, and you’re laughing?”

  I shrug.

  Cap’s head swings between me and Wes several times before he groans. “Jesus Christ, Wes is right. Something’s not right. What the fuck is going on, sister-fornicator?”

  Harrison laughs. “Well, this is different. Fun, even.”

  “Shut it, Whore-i-son!” Cap shouts with a snap of his fingers before focusing back on me. “Spill it. What’s happening?”

  “Nothing,” I avoid, waving a hand and setting my glass down on the table. “I’m just wondering why book club is poker night again.”

  “Horseshit,” Thatch says with a booming laugh, but his laughter quickly subsides as he assesses me closely. “My God,” he says, and his eyes turn knowing. “You sure do make an interesting case of roadkill, don’t ya? A quiet, stalwart kind of suffering.”

  I roll my eyes and give him the finger, and the rest of the room explodes with questions.

  “Something happened between you and Lena, didn’t it?”

  “Holy fucking shit, you’re not with her anymore?”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “You gave up the forbidden little sister?”

  They’re loud and fast and, quite frankly, a little bit shrill, so I couldn’t tell you who asked what if I wanted to.

  Cap, however, stands out clearly from the rest of the group as he rises from his seat and yells, “Silence!”

  All eyes turn to him, including mine, which he catches with his own and holds them.

  “Tell me the truth, Theo. Did you and my baby sister break up?”

  My chest tightens at his question, and all I can do is shut my eyes for a brief moment and nod my head.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he questions with wide, shocked eyes. “All this…everything we’ve fucking been through…all the bullshit secrets and lies and disregard for bro-code…and you’re not even fucking with her anymore?” he asks through a whisper of disgust.

  I heave a sigh and push to standing on my side of the table too. “Cap—”

  “No fucking way!” he explodes, knocking his beer bottle over in a swipe and crash that makes Thatch close his eyes in frustration and dismay. The big giant shoves back in his chair to start cleaning it up, but Cap keeps scolding. “I told you…I fucking told you that’d we’d be good again if you just treated her right. That’s all you had to do.” He paces away from the table and then turns sharply to come back, pointing a finger in my direction again. “Christ, I can’t believe you’d do this to my sister! Of all the fucking scumbags in the world, I never thought Theo Cruz would turn out to be the biggest—”

  “Hey!” I finally shout, done with being dragged through the fucking mud over a decision I didn’t even make—a decision in which I got no vote. “If you’re looking for someone to blame for the end of my relationship with your sister, talk to her. Not me, okay? Not me. I’m in fucking love with her, but that didn’t seem to matter. You want to know why we’re not together anymore?” I shout, my breathing hard and heavy. “She didn’t give me a choice.”

  The room is silent for a second and a half before exploding once again. I’m pretty sure even Quincy is squealing like a fucking pig, a voluntary breach of his silent run, but I don’t wait around to hear the reasons why.

  I grab my coat off the back of my chair and head for the door, and I’m halfway down the hall on my way to the elevator when Cap grabs me by the shoulder and spins me around.

  “Hey,” he says in a way that makes me stop. I can hardly believe it, but it actually sounds like something resembling compassion.

  “What?” I ask, turning to face him and forcing myself to look him in the eye.

  He studies me closely, watching the muscle tick at the line of my jaw and considering his next move.

  I don’t know what I expect, but it definitely isn’t what he does. With careful placement, Cap, the most insensitive, hardheaded, crazy asshole in the world wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug.

  Not one that crushes my bones or comes with a slap on the back or even one that mocks the pa
in I’m in.

  It’s just a genuine showing of compassion and care.

  I don’t know what to make of it, but it doesn’t matter—it doesn’t last long enough anyway.

  “All right,” he says resolutely, a jerky nod of his head punctuating the words. “You’ve had your moment. Now it’s time to go after her.”

  For a brief second, cracks form in my giant wall of apathy, and the realization that I have to fly to Paris—Lena’s favorite fucking city—in less than twenty-four hours without her starts to creep into my head.

  But I quickly shove it away and shake my head. “No, Cap.”

  “Theo, this is a part of the process, bud. You’ve gotta get off your high horse—”

  “No. Lena knows how I feel, and she knows how to find me. But I’m not going to insert myself into her life if she doesn’t want me there. The time for her to choose for herself—to choose her life—is now.”

  I turn to the elevator, push the button, and step inside when the doors open automatically. Cap watches me silently as the doors come together between us and close this chapter altogether.

  Just like the dissolution of Book Club, the reasons for the demise of my relationship with Lena remain a mystery.

  And unless she decides to change that, as far as I’m concerned, they always will.

  Lena

  At barely six in the morning, I’m already up and out of the shower before the sun has even peeked her rays above the horizon. To someone else, this might sound fantastic, like a real early-bird-gets-the worm situation.

  But it’s not.

  In all actuality, it’s insanely preemptive because my early bird ass doesn’t have any fucking worms to get until nine, when I’m supposed to be at Loro’s shop in SoHo.

  Yet here I am, wide awake, on my second cup of coffee, and just twiddling my damn thumbs.

  So, I force myself to do something. Anything.