Stingray Billionaire: The Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (58 page)

CHAPTER
TWELVE

Lexi

After
I finished my first day at the store, I walked to Michigan Avenue and met Viv
for drinks at The Gage. By the time I arrived, she'd secured one of the booths
near the bar, had ordered drinks and appetizers for both of us, and had
attracted the attention of most of the men at the bar. That was Viv, though.

We'd met in
homeroom the first day of our freshman year of high school and had become fast
friends. Viv's status as a ginger hadn't made her very popular that year, but
as we progressed through high school, she'd figured out how to capitalize on
her difference and by the time we graduated, she'd taken to dying her
strawberry colored hair bright red and had turned our Catholic school uniform
into something that attracted both boys and men. The downside of her
independent streak was that she spent an awful lot of time in detention for
minor infractions of the skirt length policy, the blouse policy, and the solid
color knee-sock policy. Teachers sighed as they handed her detention slips and
Viv would give them a cheeky grin followed by a wink before she took the slip
and skipped down the hallway to the room where the perpetually grumpy nun who
was responsible for monitoring detention kept watch over the girls who had
broken the rules.

"Heya,
Wally!" Viv yelled as I walked through the door. "Over here!"

"Do you have
to call me Wally in front of everyone in the bar?" I grumbled as I sat
down across the table from my friend. She had obviously just been to the
stylist because her hair was the brightest shade of cherry red I'd ever seen
it. She was wearing her smart-girl glasses and a t-shirt that scooped low and
exposed just enough of the tops of her large breasts that I involuntarily
brought a hand to my own chest and pulled up my blouse.

"Let your
hair down, Lex!" she laughed as she took a sip of the martini in front of
her and then grabbed a fried pickle and popped a piece in her mouth. "Live
a little! Now, tell me all about the new job."

"What's there
to tell?" I shrugged as I sipped the martini Viv had ordered for me and
bit into a pickle. I had thought about what I was going to tell her all
afternoon as I'd unpacked the beautiful pieces of jewelry and put them in their
proper places. "It's a job selling jewelry in a store over on
Wabash."

"Yeah, but
what's the boss like?" she asked. "Probably an old guy with a paunch
and a bald spot, huh?"

"No,
actually…" I trailed off. I wasn't sure I wanted to tell Viv about the
attraction I'd felt to my new boss. Somehow, saying it out loud felt like it
would make the tension more intense, and I was already concerned about how I
was going to manage to maintain a professional distance with Max Malin standing
just a few feet away from me. "He's young and kind of hot."

"A hot
boss?" she said excitedly leaning across the table. "Do tell!"

"He's just
hot," I shrugged, trying not to get caught up in her enthusiasm for
details. "He's in his thirties, he's tall, and he has kind of rockstar
length hair and these blue eyes that…"

"That what,
Lex? His eyes are like what?" She was getting excited and I knew I was
perilously close to spilling everything and telling her that I had a massive
crush on my boss.

"They're just
this shade of blue that reminds me of a cloudless summer sky," I said
trying to sound casual.

"Uh oh,
you're crushed out, aren't you?"

"No, I'm
definitely not!" I protested. It was futile, Viv knew me better than
anyone and she definitely knew when I was interested in a guy. "God, Viv,
he's my boss, for crying out loud!"

"Someone's
got a crush, someone's got a crush," she sang in a playground voice. I
looked down at my drink and thought about it for a moment, then looked up.

"Okay, fine,
I have a crush on my new boss! He's hot and he's smart and it's going to make a
boring sales job so much more interesting and intriguing," I said, feeling
more than a little defensive. "Are you happy now? Happy that I've spilled
my guts and told you?"

"Lex, listen
to me," she said quietly. "Josh was an ass. I know you're broken up
about him dumping you, but seriously, it was for the absolute best. I don't
think you should feel guilty about having a crush on your boss. Crush out!
Forget that loser who ran off! You are young and beautiful, and you should be
enjoying your life, not wallowing in sadness and misery over a guy who wasn't
fit to spit on your shoes."

"Jeez, Viv,
why don't you tell me how you really feel?" I said with a wry grin. She
laughed loudly and signaled the server that we wanted two more drinks.
"Hey, take it easy, girlfriend, I've got to work in the morning!"

"Oh please,
you've earned a little bit of liquid relaxation," she laughed. "Now,
tell me more about the job!"

For the next hour,
we went back over every detail of my day and talked about how I should dress in
order to shape my character and sell more merchandise. Viv thought I should
show some cleavage.

"Boobs, babe.
Boobs sell things," she said and as if on cue, a handsome man from the bar
walked over to the table.

"May I buy
you ladies a drink and join you for a little conversation?" he asked.

"Why, thank
you so much," Viv cooed as she dropped her eyes and then looked up at him
and spoke in a soft voice. I'd seen this brush off technique too many times to
be wowed by it, but I always enjoyed the way the men responded, so I turned
slightly to watch the guy's face. "We appreciate the offer so very much
and would love to invite you to join us, but we're celebrating our anniversary
and would prefer to do it a deux rather than host a guest. I'm sure you
understand, don't you?"

"Oh, uh, wow,
oh yeah," he stammered. "I'm sorry to interrupt. Happy
anniversary!" The guy turned and quickly walked back to the bar where his
friends, who'd witnessed the exchange, pounded him on the back and bought him
shots to try and soothe his bruised ego.

"Why do you
do that to them, Viv?" I asked as I tried to contain my laughter.

"Because
while I love men more than life itself, I think it's healthy for them to live
in a world where not all women are theirs for the asking," she said with a
prissy smile. "Besides, we are celebrating together and I didn't want us
to have to spend the evening fending off advances from the bar."

"You," I
grinned. "You would be fending off advances, not me."

"Oh, get over
yourself, Wally," she waved at me. "You're a gorgeous woman with an
incredible body and men trip over themselves to get to you. I, on the other
hand, am a chubby girl with big boobs and an ass that goes on for days, so I
have to use what I've got."

"You
underrate yourself, Viv," I said as I sipped the fresh drink the server
had placed in front of me.

"Takes on to
know one," she grinned as she reached out and took the last pickle.
"Now, should we order dinner?"

Viv and I hung out
at The Gage talking and drinking until well after midnight. By the time we were
done, I'd figured out my wardrobe for the next two weeks and she had not only
given me pointers on how to sell more effectively without being overly aggressive,
but also a new mascara and two tubes of lipstick.

"Wear the
lighter one tomorrow," she advised as she put me in a cab and said
goodnight. Then, as the cab pulled away from the curb, she shouted, "And,
the wrap dress! Wear the wrap dress!"

I laughed and
waved as she disappeared from view.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

Max

It
had grown dark outside and most of the Wabash Street stores were empty by the
time I locked the door and headed for home. I'd dismissed my driver for the
night despite his protests; I needed to walk and clear my head. I knew he was
concerned about my safety, but I'd changed out of my suit and put on an old
pair of jeans, well-worn t-shirt, and an old pair of running shoes before
hoisting a backpack over my shoulder. I checked myself in the front mirror and
was satisfied to see that I looked like just another Chicago college student.

One thing my
father had pounded into our heads as we were growing up was that despite the
fact that we had more money than we'd ever know what to do with, we were not
allowed to live like the rich. We were clothed and fed well, attended only the
best schools, and lived in a beautiful house in a nice section of Wicker Park,
but my father eschewed the luxuries that that Russian government officials had
indulged in while their people were starving in the streets, and as a result,
he had a love/hate relationship with consumer capitalism. My mother never wore
expensive furs or jewelry, but she always dressed well and looked beautiful. My
father had warned us over and over to keep a low profile and never ever flout
our wealth. As a child, I had no idea how my father spent the money he was
making, and as I walked, I recalled the Christmas when I learned never to ask.

I was twelve and
Kristov was fifteen, and we had both decided that we wanted an expensive video
game console like the ones we saw in the pizza parlor. It was unlike the ones
that all the kids in the neighborhood had; it was bigger and better. We lobbied
Mama and Babi so that they would be our allies in the push to get Papa to buy
it for us. Two weeks before Christmas, we made our move. Papa was in the front
room smoking a cigar and watching the news when we approached him and made our
case. He listened carefully to all of the reasons we had outlined for why we
wanted a gift that had a price tag exceeding our monthly mortgage payment, and
then he asked the question that has never left me.

"You boys
have a lot of good reasons why you think you deserve this present," he
smiled. "But you haven't told me why you want it. Why do you want this
gift?"

"Um, so we
can play with the technology, Papa," Kristov answered hesitantly. Later, I
realized that he was far more adept at reading my father's moods than I would
ever be, and this would be the thing that would get me in trouble over and over
again.

"Nah
uh!" I protested loudly and then blurted out, "We want it so that
we'll have a better game system than anyone in the neighborhood and so everyone
will be jealous of how great our system is!"

To this day, I still
don't know how my father moved so fast, but before I could take another breath,
he raised his hand and slapped me across the face so hard that I fell against
my brother and knocked him to the ground. As the pain from the explosion that
had ripped across one side of my face began to subside, I looked up at my
father with tears in my eyes and a surprised look of confusion.

"Don't you
ever talk about wanting to be better than anyone else," Papa growled as he
leaned over me. He was close enough that I could smell the cigar smoke on his
breath and see the rage in his eyes. His voice grew angrier as he delivered his
message, "You are never better than anyone else because of what you own or
how much money you have! You are human, just like everyone else, and I won't
stand for you boys acting like spoiled, American brats! Do you understand
me?"

"Y…y…yes,
Papa," I whispered, unable to look away. I was terrified of what he would
do next and Kristov, sensing that it wasn't wise to be connected to this plan
any longer, had extracted himself and now stood over me. He looked at me with
disgust before turning and walking away.

"Get up and
go do your homework," Papa said as he waved me away. "I don't want to
see your face. Go do something useful."

I stood up,
turned, and walked out of the room, not making a sound until I was safely
behind the closed door of my bedroom. Then, and only then, did I grab my pillow
and let out an anguished cry of pain, rage, and powerlessness. I knew that
night that my father was a dangerous man, and that if I didn't learn how to
tread carefully around him, I would end up like so many other people who had
displeased him. From then on, I kept my head down and my mouth shut as I
watched and waited for my chance to break free.

I shook my head to
clear my thoughts of the past and brought them back to this afternoon's
conversation with my father. I felt the pressure of the limited amount of time
I had to prove myself closing in on me.

For the first
time, I realized that in a real and urgent way my life depended on my ability
to make this store a success and that I needed Lexi to pay her role perfectly.
However, I also knew that there was no way I could let her know how much
pressure we were under and I definitely couldn't let her know why this endeavor
was so very important. No outsider could possibly understand the weight my
father had placed on my shoulders, and I felt my spirits sagging with the
understanding that I'd be carrying this burden all on my own.