Dirty Boy (8 page)

If this was their usual style of handling contract negotiations, they’d be fucking bankrupt.

Ryker stalked away before any other arguments arose.

Beyond annoyed at fuck-up after fuck-up, Max walked to the chair where his board shorts lay over the back and put them on. “He seemed a little hesitant.”

“Ryker’s hopped up. As long as she’s clean, do you have any objections?”

“Contracts, maybe? Payment discussions. Chemistry between us.”

“We’re all set up for
today
. Compensation is due to the crew. There’s a shit load of food.”

As if they hurt for money, but Eric was all about the bottom line. Not much else mattered. Not their father, Winston, and his collections of wives. Not the day or the time. Nothing but money.

Max didn’t care about the money. This had always been about the business. If he never worked anywhere, he already had money to burn. They all did. He simply enjoyed his work. He enjoyed
women
.

If this new girl agreed and her paperwork was in order, they’d shoot today. Maybe not anything for their movie, but some task
could
get scratched off the to-do list.

Righting the table Eric had kicked over, Max scooped up the items that had fallen off the top.

“What the holy fuck?” Eric gasped. “You’ve turned into a fucking comedian, Ryker. What the hell is she doing here?”

Not much shocked any of them, Eric least of all. At twenty-seven, he was as jaded as Max. That meant he wouldn’t be pleased with whatever or whoever he faced when he turned around.

Steeling himself, he tossed the condoms and other stuff aside. Some things slid right back to the floor, but he ignored them and spun around, registering her brown hair first. Long and thick, it gleamed under the harsh lights. She had perfect arches for eyebrows, a small nose, and a lush mouth, made for sucking and fucking. One he’d tasted and enjoyed. She was exquisite, and her flawless ivory skin only made her more outstanding. But it was her green eyes he’d never forget. They’d pierced through Max the first time he’d met Story and they did so now.

He glowered at her, remembering her innocence. Her compliance. Remembering Kayleigh. Simon.
Babs.
He’d always suspected she’d been nothing but a gold digger. The criminality of she and her mother was a proven fact. Now, her unflinching regard captivated him
and
annoyed the fuck out of him.

After all that had gone down with the stolen money and his father’s broken heart, Story’s presence infuriated him.

“Is this your idea of a fucking joke, Story?” Eric fumed. He enjoyed intimidation. “Get the fuck out, you miserable little cunt, and don’t come back.”

Ryker winced.

A brief flash of hurt tore across Story’s face before she stiffened her shoulders. “Hello, Fuckheads 1 and 2,” she greeted, pinning each of them with a glare, her bright green eyes frosting as she focused on Max the longest.

He saw a question and a plea on her face, so he turned away.

“As for you, Fuckhead 2,” she continued, nodding to Eric, “does it look like I’m joking? I sent in my info fair and square.”

“I’m sure your mother taught you a few tricks of a whore’s life.” Eric didn’t give Story a chance to respond before he rounded on Ryker. “You got fucking jokes, huh, asshole?”

“Dude, I swear I didn’t recognize Story.”

The way Story’s mouth pursed and her shoulders stiffened told Max that Ryker wasn’t speaking the truth. But addicts were thieves and liars, Ryker being amongst the worst.

“Her pictures were kind of blurry. Besides, my mouth was watering over her tits. And a detail I thought worked well.”

“Which is?” Max spoke for the first time since she’d walked in, wearing sneakers, a Hello Kitty T-shirt, and a pair of shorts. She did have some nice tits, not overly large but high and round. Sensuous lips. Thick eyelashes. He’d always thought the camera would love her. Based on her face and her body, she had a real shot in the industry. Best of all, Max wanted to fuck her. His dick had wanted her for a very long time. He could have her, use her as she and her mother had used their father, thus slaking his need for her and avenging Winston. But he wouldn’t make this easy. “What is interesting enough that I shouldn’t throw her out immediately?”

Amusement lit Ryker’s eyes, and he smirked at her before answering on her behalf. “She needs her V-card punched in.”

Biting down on her lip, Story blushed, adding to her beauty as always. He didn’t know if he wanted to fuck that mouth of hers first or taste it again.

He’d have to tweak the script to accommodate her virginity, if she told the truth. “You’ve never fucked?” he asked, studying her carefully. It would be poetic justice to convince her to do this movie and then keep
her
money as she and her mother had stolen theirs. “This isn’t a joke, correct?”

Sadness, anger, and hurt flashed across her face. Dark circles ringed her eyes as if she hadn’t rested well in days. He shoved aside how seeing her sweet face brought him back to a time when he still had a heart to give. He latched onto his sense of vindication. Only recently had they managed to pull their father away from the bottle after Babs and Story betrayed him. Max had always known she was a golddigger-in-training. “Story?” he prodded.

Misery marred her features. “No joke,” she pushed out.

He exchanged a glance with Eric, then shrugged, not wanting to show his eagerness to fuck her. To touch her.

“Fuck it. We roll in fifteen. Clean up the set. Let’s get moving, people.” Eric turned toward the bed and motioned for someone to repair the covers, still ruffled from Max’s failed fuck with Greta and the blonde. “Clothes off, Story. This will be good. Hopefully, you’ll bleed so that we can capture it.”

“Wait.” Story rushed behind Eric and grabbed his arm. Wide-eyed and vulnerable, her gaze flickered from him to Max. “You want to film me being deflowered?”

Eric snatched away from her grasp. “Take it or leave it.”

“I-I thought we’d do it in private. I don’t want to be deflowered onscreen.”

Story had always captivated Max. From the moment he’d seen her in her Hello Kitty bathing suit in that deserted room at his father’s house. Now, the panic in her voice affected him. He didn’t like it at all.
She’d
come to
them
. Either she’d abide by their dictates or she could leave.

“If you don’t want to do it, then get the fuck out of here,” Eric told her sharply, beating Max to the ultimatum.

Scowling, she marched to Ryker. “Please purchase my return ticket and drive me back to the airport.”

“We pay one way.” Reminding himself that she didn’t matter, that she represented all he’d lost, Max leaned against the wall, folded his arms and crossed one foot over his ankle. Her virginity wore on his patience. He fucking
hated
first-timers in any hole. The extra prep. The occasional tears. Fuck his life, but this day was shaping up to be a fucking bust. This being Story’s first time also played on his conscience and stoked his desire. “We also don’t pay for transportation, unless you’re signed on with us.”

“I signed,” she whispered at the same time Ryder said, “She signed. That’s what took so long. We were in a bind, so I offered a standard contract.”

For her to sign without knowing any particulars meant she was desperate. Her position put her at Max’s mercy.

“If you don’t undress, that’s a breach of fucking contract,” Eric explained, as angry with Babs and Story for forging their Dad’s name on checks. They were lucky Dad had cared so much about that money-grubbing bitch. She and Story both should’ve fucking gone to jail.

“I don’t want my first sexual experience captured on camera.”

“Take it or leave it,” Max said coolly, decrying his thought to listen to what she had to say. Hear what drove her to this point.

But what good would it do? She’d tell him what she thought he’d want to hear and gain the advantage to play him.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, tears moistened them. “I want to go home,” she said before Max did something stupid.

Like gave into his urge to help her. Ask her what music she had in her playlist now.

“I don’t have the money for a return flight.”

The wrong fucking thing for her to say.

“Money, huh?” Max sneered, his intentions disintegrating. “How about I fuck you until I think you’ve settled the damn debt you and your mother incurred when you embezzled our fucking money?” As she grappled in speechless shock, he glared at Ryker. “Didn’t you see her fucking name before you got her out here, asshole?”

“Fuck, all I’ve heard about is Babs. I didn’t remember her last name, and I’ve met Story…what…? Once or twice?”

Much less than Max, who had been the only one who’d visited their father in the presence of their most recent stepmother and her daughter.

Eric gestured to her. “How many fucking Storys do you know?”

Ryker was lying. Max knew it. Story was unforgettable for so many different reasons.

Irked, he stepped closer to her, his intention intimidation. Wisps of hair framed her face and an elusive pink stained her cheeks.

Max might’ve used women, but while they were in his company he always showed them a good time, got them off, and protected them, so Story’s look of resignation touched something in him. A tiny
something, since he still wanted her to suffer for her many crimes. But this was Story. She’d always been sweet and sassy.
Special.

Her stomach growled, and her cheeks reddened a little more.

“Are you hungry?” he questioned in a soft, deadly tone, disliking her for making him soften a fraction. “I’d think you’d still have money left over to dine in five-star restaurants. But then your mother always was a spendthrift. I suppose you took after her in more than just looks.”

“What money, Max? I’ve done nothing, especially embezzle anything from your company.”

Anger at her supposed ignorance settled into him, allowing him to ignore the confusion that seemed very real.

Ryker tapped her shoulder. “When did you last eat?”

She combed her fingers through her hair. “Last night, after work, I ate my noodles,” she mumbled.

“Noodles?” Ryker echoed.

Glancing at him over her shoulder, Story nodded. “Ramen.”

“No more than you deserve,” Eric spat.

Growling in frustration, she balled her hands into fists. “Look, douche fuck, I don’t know what Mom did. One day she was with Winston and the next day he’d kicked her out. This is the first I’m hearing about an embezzlement. Although, if that’s true, it explains why he suddenly pulled all support and my mom had to take out credit cards that happen to have my name on them to make ends meet.”

Ahh. Her words clarified what compelled her to answer their ad. Debt. She was twenty now, so she should’ve been two years into college for her teaching certification. Attending a university could be expensive.

Too bad for her. Lucky for him. The misery, sadness, and instances of resentment he’d witnessed in her today all made sense now.

Her stomach growled again, and she lowered her lashes.

Mind racing, Max strolled to the same chair he’d laid his pants on and snatched his shirt, covering his chest. He swore disappointment skated across her features.

“You flew out here well aware of your maidenhead,” he pointed out.
She was still a virgin.
The realization sank in that Story had never fucked. He wanted to feel nothing but disgust but he was more intrigued and a lot anticipatory. Being Story’s first lover appealed to him more than it should have. However, he’d been her first kiss and her first slow dance partner. Being her first fuck seemed logical and kept up with the theme. Had she been turning eighteen the night of her dinner, instead of sixteen, he would’ve fucked her then. Getting inside of her was better late than never. “You signed the paperwork without telling anyone you’ve never fucked.”

“Ryker knew,” she said defensively, licking the lips he wanted to taste. “When he asked about my experience, I told him the truth.”

“Really?” Just as Max suspected. Ryker knew more than he’d admitted. “What did he say to that?”

“At first, he told me you’d be interested in the knowledge. Once I sent him my ID, he said Richard Head would deflower me.”

He glared at her. “That’s me, and you know it.”

“With this being your company, I would’ve thought you were behind the scenes only, until I saw you.”

He grinned. “Saw me?”

“Onscreen.”

“Fucking.”

She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

“I serve in several capacities here.” After all, this had been his brainchild once the studio he’d been with released him. Photos of Kayleigh beaten and bruised had surfaced. Fingers were pointed at him. Accusations hurled. He’d been painted as a wife-beater and murderer, even with his father’s and brother’s statements. Gradually, the scandal had blown over and Max was determined to reclaim the career he’d lost. In spite of Kayleigh.
To spite
her. “You’ll be starring with me.”