Bad Boy vs Millionaire

By: Candy J. Starr



It was Hannah. She couldn't find her hotel and she wanted me to check how to get there because her phone battery was about to go flat. She included a selfie she'd taken with Japanese buildings in the background. If you ask me, she could've saved her phone battery for looking things up herself instead of taking photos but I bet she just didn't know how to use GPS properly so wanted me to do it for her.

I was really tempted to ignore her message. After all, she was in Tokyo, the city I'd always dreamed of visiting, and I was stuck in a boring lecture with the lecturer going on and on about the narrative structure of David Lynch films which, to be honest, we'd covered every single year. I'd ignore her and let her be lost because I could do that. Everyone thinks I'm sweet and pixie-like but I'm not. I could be dark. I could be really dark.

Then I remembered that she'd wanted me to go with her and also she was buying the boots I needed the fuck out of so I'd have to be really sensible and responsible which killed me.

I sent her a message back telling her to find the hottest guy around and ask him for directions. But started looking up maps, trying to get her bearings.

My phone buzzed again. I figured it was Hannah, still lost. She'd be wandering around Tokyo forever the way I was going.

But it wasn't Hannah. It was a message forwarded from Hannah's business account.

I slipped out of class and returned the call. It seemed important. And it was. The most important. Well as far as Storm went, it was huge. A massively important offer and I'd been left in charge of the management. When I ended the call, I was covered in a sheen of sweat. I'd heard the words the man said but couldn't put them together. It was all just jibber jabber to me. And it sounded big time. Really big time. About to break through level big time. I didn't want to fuck this up. I needed Hannah. I had to talk to Hannah, now. But an overseas phone call, that would cost a fortune. I'd told Hannah to get onto Skype in case I needed to talk but Hannah hadn't listened.

How was I going to deal with this kind of business stuff? Things were supposed to be simple while Hannah was away. I'd said I'd take care of the band because it was going to be just the regular day-to-day stuff. Then, bam, out of nowhere, the biggest offer of their career, and only me to deal with it.





Chapter 3. Hannah


“Are you sure you know where you are going? We've driven around this same block about 20 times already.”

Tamaki made a little snort noise. I still wasn't sure what to think of Tamaki. He was dressed much more casually than he had been the day before but it was a very studied type of casual. Like he'd had a fashion stylist arrange every item of clothing to get the right effect. The shirt carefully untucked from his waist at the side, the hat at a certain angle. I thought about the careless, bed-tousled scruffiness of Jack Colt. He never even thought about his clothes yet somehow managed to look just right.

Last night, at dinner, my father had pushed us into spending the day together. Tamaki had wanted to take me sightseeing but I’d said I wanted to go shopping.

“I'm trying to find somewhere to park. I don't really know this area that well. Can you see any parking lots?”

“How come you don't know this area? You live in this city don't you? And even my friend back home knows about it. She said it's where all the hip people shop.” I stopped talking, realising that, while Tamaki might be incredibly rich, he probably wasn't at all what Angie would call hip. I also remembered, not so long ago, when I had no idea about the “hip” parts of town and probably would have had no idea how to get there.

Still, he’d done me a favour. After seeing all the narrow, twisting streets in this part of town, I realized I’d have been lost within 5 minutes. I kept watch for somewhere to park while we crawled through the tiny streets. I wasn’t even sure if some of these places were shops. It looked as if people just opened the front room of their houses and put their wardrobe on display, sometimes even hanging clothes off the nearby cinder block walls. It seemed crazy to me that people even lived with their houses fronting onto the streets. No garden, no nature strip, just stepping from the street into your front door.

A girl in a whirl of neon rode on a bike beside us, her lime green fake fur jacket engulfing her. She managed to pedal her bike in the highest heels imaginable.

I peered into a tiny shop as we waited for her to pass, the random assortment of junk spilling into the street. Then I spotted a sign.

“Is that one up there?”

“Where?”

“That place with a big 'P' on the sign?”

“Well spotted, Hannah.”

Huh, did he think he was British or something? Actually he did seem very British. Like he'd watched too many British movies and had been impersonating them.

▶ Also By Candy J. Starr

▶ Last Updated

▶ Hot Read

▶ Recommend

Top Books