BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset) (49 page)

Namir coughed and wiped at his mouth and forehead.  “Sorry.” 

“You have a lot of bad memories from your time in the military, don’t you?”

Namir nodded. 

“Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.  How could he ever tell her what he had to do over there? 

“Let’s go back to the hotel.  I’m sure Michael is wondering where we are.”

Taylor felt the need to keep her hands on Namir as they made their way downstairs.  He felt fragile walking next to her.  She slipped a hand through the bend of his elbow, to make it look normal to anyone that may look.  He touched her knuckles and rubbed gently.  They just looked like any other couple walking through the restaurant.  A few people whispered and stared, but she heard her name spoken aloud and knew that was why they were looking.  It had long ago ceased to be an adrenaline rush. 

Michael was parked across the street and swung the car in a U-turn to come and get them.  He hopped efficiently out of the car and came around to open the door for them. 

“Sorry, we stayed late, Michael.” 

“Oh, no problem!  No problem at all!”  He eyed Namir suspiciously.  “Is he ok?”

“He’s fine.”  Taylor said brusquely.  “He’s just not feeling well.” 

“Right, right.”  He replied, but no one thought he believed it. 

Namir stood in front of Taylor’s door, now back to himself, feeling like an idiot.  “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Taylor shrugged.  “It’s fine.  I was tired anyway.”

“You’re so…different than you were.” 

Taylor laughed bending forward slightly.  “Oh you mean since we first met?”

Namir nodded his head. 

“Yeah, well I’ve decided in recent weeks to reserve all of my bitchiness for my mother and occasionally Jason.  And of course any jerks along the way.”  She tilted her head to the side and gazed at him.  “You know, you may be the first real friend I’ve ever had.”  She stood on tip toe and kissed his cheek.  “Good night.” 

“Good night.”  Namir said quietly as she shut the door.  He ran a hand over the spot her lips had just touched.  The spot was warm and a small trace of her lip gloss was sticking to his face.  He decided to leave it. 

Namir turned to go to his door next to Taylor’s and saw Jason slip soundlessly out of Constantine’s door across the hall.  His eyes widened when he saw Namir.  He was wearing nothing but a hotel rob, his clothes balled in his hands.  His face went slack and he gave Namir a lopsided grin.  With a shrug he walked unsteadily down the hall to his room, whistling as he went.

“Alright, sweetie, just sign here.”  The lawyer smiled and handed a pen to Taylor.  The contract for the movie would be final as soon as she signed her name.  She held the thick black pen in her hand and hesitated for a split second.  With a decided hand she stroked her name across the paper and dropped the pen.  It was done.  She was now an actress.  All of her mother’s dreams had finally come true.  Now she could live gleefully and vicariously through her. 

Taylor stood stiff backed when her copy of the contract was handed to her.  She looked disdainfully at the lawyer’s hand but shook it anyway, sliding her dark sunglasses onto her face.  She moved away from the conference room table, leaving Jason and the other big wigs to discuss arrangements for the upcoming production.  She was sick of it all, all already. 

Namir opened the door for her, sensing her mood.  He knew the final ride back to the hotel was going to be spicy.  Constantine and Jason would want to pat each other on the back, and Taylor would probably cut them to pieces with her razor sharp tongue. 

Once they were all back in the limo Taylor didn’t disappoint.  Namir kept the glass partition open. 

Constantine was prattling on about the excitement of the whole thing, already planning what she would wear on the red carpet for premiere night. 

Taylor shot her an evil look, her mouth twisted.  “Tell me, Mother, when are you planning on cutting the apron strings?” 

Namir turned in his seat, wishing he could see Constantine’s face.  Jason was seated beside Taylor and simply raised his eyebrows.  Taylor’s eyes were unreadable behind the sunglasses she still had on.

“I’ve never even worn an apron, which you know full well!”  Constantine snapped. 

Namir turned back around with a small shake of the head.  Their driver Michael looked at Namir with a smirk.  Perhaps Constantine was dumber than he had originally thought.  

“No, Mother, you haven’t.  I do know full well what you’ve done and haven’t done.  I also know that you’re not dumb enough to not know what I mean.”

“I’ve been just as much a manager as Jason has!  Actually more so!” 

“Hey!”  Jason protested. 

“Hey, nothing!”  Constantine leaned forward, her eyes on Taylor.  “You know I started this for you!  It was me who put you in modeling classes!  It was me who organized your first shoots!”  Every time she said ‘me’ Namir could hear her thump her chest.   

“I never asked for it!”

Constantine leaned back.  “You certainly didn’t complain.”

“I wanted to please you, that’s all!  And it was never enough!  I was never thin enough, tall enough, pretty enough, poised enough; yet I’ve been a hundred times the celebrity you were!  I don’t know how Daddy put up with you!” 

Constantine crossed the distance in one swift movement.  Her back hunched as she reached for Taylor.  The sound of the slap silenced everything in the car.

“Constantine!”  Jason yelled with surprise.  

“Pull over.”  Namir said. 

Michael obeyed and watched with large brown eyes as Namir stepped calmly from the car, unbuttoning his suit jacket, and got into the back of the limo. 

Namir picked up the sunglasses, that were now cracked, from the floorboard and handed them to Taylor.  He brushed the single tear off of her face, and laid his arm casually over the back of the seat.  He looked at Constantine with an expressionless face. 

She huffed and crossed her arms.

“What, Namir?  This is none of your business!” 

“If you ever touch her that way again, I’ll break your hand.”  He said quietly. 

No one said another word.

When they got back to the hotel, Taylor packed her things swiftly and waited on her bed for Namir to come in.  Her mother slapping her was nothing new.  She had done it a dozen times before throughout her childhood and teens.  This was just the first time Namir had witnessed it.  She touched the tender spot on her cheek as Namir knocked. 

“Come in.”  She called. 

He breezed in, a scowl on his face.  ‘Taylor, you know better.” 

“I knew you were coming, so I left it unlocked.” 

Namir just didn’t have it in himself right then to chastise her further, not with the partial hand print on her tan face.  He sat down beside her instead, hands interlaced between his thighs. 

“You can cut her loose, Taylor.” 

“She’s my mother.” 

Her voice was detached, a practiced pronouncement Namir decided. 

“Let me ask you a question, how much of your money does she siphon off?”

Taylor turned her head and frowned.  “She has her own money.” 

“Yes, but…ok a trip like this, how much of her money was spent?”

Taylor turned her head forward again.  “Almost none.”

Namir began nodding his head.  “Do you have an accountant?”

“Why are you so worried about my money all of a sudden?”

The hurt Namir felt was a shock.  “Because I’m worried about this situation.”  He stood and took her two bags in his hands.  “I’ll be back for Lancelot and the garment bag.” 

Taylor watched him move a few steps away.  She didn’t want to hurt Namir.  “I have an accountant.  He’s also an attorney.” 

Namir turned slightly. 

“My mother and Jason use the same guy.”

Namir turned slowly, a terrible inconceivable thought entering his mind.  “Just for curiosity sake, would you mind telling me who your beneficiary is?” 

Taylor blew air from her nose slowly.  “Upon my death, as it currently stands, there are three charities that will each receive a million.  Jason will receive somewhere near a million, as well as Greta.  She’ll also get the house.” 

“And the rest?”

“Mother.” 

“How much money are you worth?”

“Not counting my property and my car somewhere near…”  She blinked.  “Honestly, I really don’t know.” 

“Then it’s time to find out.”

The plane ride home was miserable.  Neither Constantine nor Taylor spoke in a real conversation, yet Constantine talked to everyone in general concerning nothing in particular.  Taylor leaned towards Namir and explained that was her way of saying that everything was ok with her.  That things were normal again.  Namir whispered back that she was insane.  Taylor giggled, which drew a quick cut of the eye and a frown from Constantine.  As usual Jason drank his way home. 

Namir worked with Lancelot in the back yard teaching him as much as he could teach an active puppy of such a young age, but he was determined to turn the goofy puppy into a pristine guard dog by the time he was a year old.

Taylor walked towards him and smiled as he tried to make Lancelot sit and stay sitting as he walked several feet away.  The dog lowered his body onto the grass as soon as Namir had his back turned and belly crawled a few steps. 

“He’s too cute for such obedience!”  She laughed.  As soon as Lancelot heard her voice, he yipped and ran to her, placing his front legs in the air, begging her to pick him up.

“You’ve spoiled him already.” 

“He was spoiled the minute I had him.”  She grabbed the dog up and into her arms.  “I have an appointment with Mr. Breslow at three this afternoon.” 

Namir looked at his watch.  “You better get ready then if we’re going to drive into the city.” 

Taylor placed Lancelot back on the ground, and turned to leave.  He tried to follow her, yipping at her heels.  Taylor turned to him and bent her body towards the ground, an index finger pointing at him.

“No!  Stay!”  She said firmly. 

Lancelot whined once but sat still, watching her leave with perked ears. 

“Well, I’ll be damned.”  Namir said with an incredulous shake of his head.  “She should be the one training him.” 

Taylor looked over her shoulder once and gave him a smug look. 

Mr. Breslow, in Namir’s opinion, was one step above a member of the mafia.  Not only did he look the part, but he had the nervous hand and eye movements of someone with something to hide.

“I must say it’s a surprise to see you here, Taylor.”  He ran a hand over his slick back hair, his pinky ring caught the sunlight and seemed to wink. 

“It’s time I handle my financial affairs on my own.” 

Mr. Breslow eyed Namir nervously.  “And what about him?”

“He’s my bodyguard.” 

“Ah, yes.  Mr. I make a grand a week.”  He said distastefully. 

Not long after Namir arrived at the Hamptons with Taylor, he set up a bank account, and Jason had arranged for his pay to just be deposited into his account each week.  Namir now had a better grasp of how it worked. 

Mr. Breslow folded his hands over his desk.  “So, what do you want to know?”

“I want to see a breakdown of my monthly expenses.” 

He laughed lightly.  “Now, that depends on where your little leer jet has landed so you can take pictures.”

“The jet belongs to my mother.” 

“Right, right.”  He grinned. 

“Let’s start with my net worth.  I don’t want a figure that involves the property and my car; I want to know how much money I have available right now.” 

His hesitation was a tangible thing.  “Why?”

“Mr. Breslow, just get the files, pull it up on your computer…do whatever you do, but do it right now.”  Taylor said evenly and crossed her legs. 

After forty minutes of going over documents, a list of typical monthly expenses, and some stock shares, Mr. Breslow leaned back and smiled at Taylor, ready to give her the answer to the question she really wanted.  Namir had pulled up a chair. 

“So, Taylor, in terms of your net worth, minus the material stuff and minus the money tied up in stocks and bonds, you are worth just over this amount.”  He wrote a figure on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk. 

Taylor looked at the number with an emotionless expression.  Only her eyes registered anything as she passed the paper to Namir.  He tried to mimic Taylor, but he could feel his jaw going slack.  The number was $59,421,667. 

“What no change?”  Taylor tried to joke weakly.

“I rounded up.” He grinned sarcastically. 

“I haven’t made this much on my own modeling.”

“No.”  He leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk.  “You’ve made a big chunk though.  When I closed your father’s estate, you were too young to handle your own finances.”  His face had softened slightly at the mention of Taylor’s father.  “His estate wasn’t an equal split.  Constantine and Jason received about an eighth.  Some charities received about a quarter, but you received about half.”  He leaned back and let that sink in.