Rock Star Billionaire

"Keith called it off. He said it's been pushed back to Friday," Angela said.

"He pushed it back again? Can't anyone in this damn company do anything on time?" I hadn't been sleeping well, and it was beginning to take a toll on me. The disappointing news that I wouldn't be seeing Kayla after looking forward to it all week pushed me over the edge into becoming a cranky asshole.

I knew it wasn't Angela's fault and I shouldn't take it out on her, but unfortunately for her, she was only one in the room. Slamming my schedule shut, I snapped at her "What the hell is the delay this time?"

"How should I know? Something to do with repairs to the studio. You seem tense. Let me rub your shoulders," Angela offered, but I avoided her manicured hands with a shrug.

"No thanks. I don't have the time. Tell Keith I won't accept any more delays. The shoot is being held on Friday, whether he's ready or not."

"Yes, sir," Angela said, but her voice was dripping with sarcasm and not respect.

"Did he inform the photographer and crew about the new shoot date?"

"Everybody knows except for the model. Apparently, the cell number she put on her résumé has been temporarily disconnected. Keith is wondering if we need to go with the second runner up."

"The hell we will. I selected Kayla Brandt and that's the model we're going with. I'll contact her myself if necessary."

I stormed from the office, leaving a stunned Angela in my wake. I felt like a shitheel for taking out my anger on her, but I couldn't help it.

Ever since I went riding with Kayla, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. I could hardly concentrate on work. I spent all my time reviewing her file over and over, just staring at her picture. I kept replaying the conversation we had under the oak tree over in my memory, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, reliving the stories she shared, and the way it felt when her hand brushed against mine when we both reached into the bag of trail mix at the same time.

At night, my dreams were filled with images of her kissing me, putting h

er mouth on my dick, and making love to me. I imagined what it would feel like to put my hands all over her perfect body, and how it would taste to kiss those magnificent tits. I was obsessed with her, and I was counting down the hours until I could see her again, even if it was only in the context of a photoshoot.

She had told me she had a boyfriend; one that she'd been seeing for five years. That was a long-term, committed relationship, and I knew I had no chance with her. What could I offer her besides a one-night stand? I was a firm bachelor, resolute against changing my ways. She was better off without me trying to get her into the sack. Still, I needed to at least look at her one last time, talk to her, and hear her pretty voice before I let her go from my fantasies. I knew I could never have her, but I could at least indulge in one last day with her as I watched her model for the cover shoot. Then, I could let her go in peace.

Only now, the fates were working against me as once again Keith had delayed the shoot, and now Kayla's phone number was out of service. It was more than I could take. I decided to drive to her apartment to tell her about the new shoot date. I would even pick her up in my car and drive her to the studio personally if it was the only way I could see her again.

I stormed down to the garage in the basement of the building and got in my bright-red Ferrari. I sped through the city streets of L.A. until I came to the La Heurta Vista apartments. They were dingy, with plaster falling off the walls and an empty pool out front surrounded by a gate that was half falling down. It was filled with leaves and plastic garbage bags and obviously hadn't held water in years.

I knew exactly which apartment was Kayla's, since I'd memorized her entire file, including her address, during my obsessive re-reading of it over the past two weeks. As I approached her door, however, I heard distinct shouts coming from inside.

"How could you lose this job? How fucking stupid are you?" an angry male voice was yelling so loud I could hear him from outside.

"I didn't lose it. The doors were just locked when I got to the studio and no one was there. Maybe they rescheduled it." The distinct sound of Kayla's sweet voice pleading.

"Yeah, rescheduled with someone else. It told you to quit being such a prude. Maybe if you were willing to give it up little with that CEO guy, you wouldn't have lost the job and we wouldn't be broke. Do you know how humiliating it was to have my debit card turned down at the liquor store?"

"I have the money I was going to use for a new bus pass. You can use that to buy your beer. Are you sure nobody from Speed Motorcycles called? Are you sure there aren't any messages about the shoot being rescheduled?"

"Hey, what the hell are you doing? Get the fuck away from that phone!" The male voice sounded even angrier, and I felt my instincts prickle. Kayla was in danger.

My heart started to race and I knew I needed to get inside that apartment quickly before things escalated. I tried the knob, but it was locked. Did I dare try to break in or should I just knock and interrupt their fight?

"I just want to check my phone for messages. Hey, the service has been turned off. How long ago did that happen?"

"None of your damn business: that's when. Now give me that damn phone before I fucking take it from you and beat the shit out of you with it."

That was it. I was going in. I heard the sound of Kayla scream out in fear and it gave me the burst of adrenaline I needed to bust in the door. A man with scraggly brown hair and an unshaved face had her gripped by shoulders while she cowered in his grasp, clutching a cell phone in front of her like a protective shield.

I grabbed the jerk by the collar, yanked him back away from her, and punched him square in the jaw. He staggered back, falling flat on his ass, while Kayla screamed out again.

"Ethan! What are you doing here? Mick! Are you all right?"

I realized Mick must be her boyfriend of five years. Somehow, I'd imagined that any man who could win her heart would be much more sophisticated, not the scruffy asshole in front of me. She knelt down to help him, and he shoved her back roughly as he got to his feet and squared off to me.

"Who the hell is this?" Mick asked, and it became clear from the slur of his voice and the stagger of his stance that he was drunk.