My Biggest Break (Crazy In Love Book 2) Read online

  Published by T Gephart

  Copyright 2021 T Gephart

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  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and scenarios are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Hang Le

  Editing by Insight Editing Services

  Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Publishing

  Proofread by Rebecca, Fairest Reviews and Editing Services

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Connect with T

  To Bec,

  I didn’t understand why you were so cold and seemed to not like me when we first met. And I never thought we’d be friends. Little did I know that underneath the hard exterior was a heart of gold, whose trust you needed to earn before you got to see the real her—a careful but beautiful soul who’d do anything for the people she loves.

  I’m glad we got that chance.

  #SistersByChoiceNotDNA

  Belle

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  I wasn’t the kind of girl who was usually late, especially not for an audition. But even as I ran—knowing I was probably going to look like a hot mess when I got there—it was becoming painfully obvious I wasn’t going to make it.

  Shit.

  I ran faster, my ballet flats barely touching the sidewalk as I sprinted to the old theatre in Brooklyn and told myself it would all be okay.

  Visualize.

  See your success and make it happen.

  And while there was nothing I could do about being late, I was going to blow the audition out of the water if it was the last thing I did.

  I wanted it so bad.

  So.

  Bad.

  The chance to be a lead was something I’d been vying for my whole career, and this part had my name written all over it.

  Literally.

  As in, I had printed out the sample script they’d emailed me and written my name beside the character’s, proudly proclaiming it mine.

  In ink.

  Because pencil notations were for losers.

  “Yes!!” My excitement spiked, grabbing the metal handle and yanking the door open. It was still unlocked, meaning someone had to be inside, my thanks whispered to the theatre gods as I threw myself through the doorway.

  “I’m here!” I called out, leaping down the stairs to the front. All stages, no matter how small, always felt magical, and the one I was on was no exception. The three men sitting together in the first row, who’d obviously been deep in conversation and hadn’t heard my entrance, turned abruptly at the sound of my voice. “I’m so sorry, gentlemen. I know I’m incredibly late,” I huffed out between breaths, “but my name is Belle Mathews. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

  I was still trying to regulate my breathing when I got to the stage, ignoring the fact my hair was a mess and I was sweatier than an afternoon of Bikkurim Yoga. Dumping my bag at the edge, I took three cleansing breaths as I walked out to the center, the spotlight illuminated, just waiting for me to step into it.

  “Ms. Mathews?” The older guy with the kind face looked down at his laptop. “Weren’t you supposed to be here an hour ago?”

  “Yes, I know.” I nodded, knowing how terrible it looked. “But I didn’t have a number to call, and I got tied up in a family emergency and—”

  I was cut off with the raising of a hand.

  Jagger Hartley—the writer, director, and producer of the production—shot me a death glare that was not at all conducive to making me feel welcome.

  “We’re done with auditions. Thanks.”

  And then, without even bothering to hear why I was late, he turned back to the other two men. Completely ignoring I was still on the stage, ready to give him the best audition ever even though I was positive I had a blister, and my once perfectly winged eyeliner had smudged at the edges.

  I’d heard the rumors.

  Listened to how incredibly gorgeous he was.

  His face so devastatingly handsome it was hard to make direct eye contact with and a body that was so hot it was a modern mystery how his clothes didn’t disintegrate on contact etc. etc.

  But apparently accompanying that hot, sexy, smoldering exterior was a cold, unemotional core with zero humanity and even less patience, and I was beginning to think the rumors were true.

  Ironic that his last name was Hartley, when it was questionable whether he even had one.

  “I know I’m late.” I hadn’t moved from my place on the stage, ignoring my dismissal and my messed-up hair and glistening skin. Running while necessary hadn’t done wonders for my appearance, not that I’d let a little smudged eyeliner stop me. “And I don’t think my time is any more valuable than yours. But I did have a really good reason for being late and if you give me just five minutes, I promise, you won’t be sorry.” I kicked up my chin, standing up straighter as I refused to give up on the first decent audition I’d gone to in months.

  Lots of side characters, chorus and backup dancers, but no lead. And while I knew it was going to be Off Broadway and I wouldn’t have my face on a billboard just yet. It was a start, and it was such a good part.

  Even though the stage lights were almost blinding, I could see Hartley’s glare turn to me and his eyes narrow. His stare so absent of any warmth it made my blood run cold. “I said, we’re done. Please leave my stage.” His words leveled at me like a crack of a whip leaving no room for discussion.

  Jesus.

  I mean, I knew he was a hard-ass, but did he not have any compassion? It was five freaking minutes, and we were all still there. It wasn’t like I accosted him on the street and was trying to get an audition unsolicited. I’d done all the right things and gone through my agent, and if I hadn’t needed to help Hayley, who’d freaked out over Bobbie’s fever making me incredibly late, they’d have seen me anyway.

  Refusing to flinch even though he was being unnecessarily mean, I tapped my ballet flat on the stage, finding my center and taking three deep breaths. And without being asked, I launched into the main monologue.

  “I’m not trash!” I cried out, throwing out my arms as per the stage directions. “I’ve been a part of thi
s city my whole life and I’ll probably die on these streets, but I’m not nothin’.”

  All eyes—including Hartley’s—were on me, watching as I clawed at the front of my dress. “Look at me. Tell me again how much I disgust you. How you can’t love me for who I am. Because we both know that isn’t true. And the only reason you’re walking away is because you’re a coward.”

  I had been so into my performance I hadn’t even noticed Hartley had gotten out of his seat and was walking away. He didn’t even look back, his steady strides taking him closer to the exit while my heart pounded in my chest.

  Seriously?

  He was just going to walk out?

  And what the hell did I do? Keep going, continue with the rest of my audition piece for the two guys who weren’t rude and giving me their attention, or chase after the asshole who was the only person actually capable of hiring me.

  Goddamn it.

  I huffed out a breath, grabbing my handbag and hefting it onto my shoulder as I leapt off the stage. If he thought I sucked and didn’t want to sit through anymore then he could at least have the decency to say it to my face. Who even did that? Just leave without even acknowledging a person or saying goodbye. Was he raised by wolves?

  “Thanks so much, I’m so sorry I was late,” I called back over my shoulder as I ran up the stairs. Hartley had already made it to the door and was wasting no time opening it and leaving, ignoring me and my thundering footsteps.

  My captive audience looked on in shock as I flew to the exit, a muffled “goodbye” trailing behind me as I flung open the door I’d opened mere minutes ago and found myself on the street.

  The blister on my foot throbbed, protesting against all the running we’d done as my eyes searched the street. He had only been a few steps in front of me, how could he have disappeared.

  Swiveling my head left and then right, I spotted a small alleyway to the side of the theatre. It had to be where he’d gone, refusing to believe that despite Jagger Hartley having the disposition of one of those Death Eaters from Harry Potter, he could actually dissolve into thin air.

  Swearing under my breath—because now it was personal and I was going to give that jerk a piece of my mind—I took off again, making it to the end of the alley just in time to see him getting into a sleek black Lexus sedan.

  Perfect, because what else would someone rude and obnoxious drive but an utterly pretentious car.

  He looked up, his eyes connecting with mine as I reached the passenger side of his stupid car and yanked open the door. He hadn’t even started the ignition, his eyebrows scrunched in utter confusion.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, watching as I pretty much threw myself into the seat beside him. “Are you completely insane?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I mock gasped, putting my hand up against my mouth. “Was I being rude? You know, like you were when you walked out.”

  The chances of me landing the gig had gone from slim to non-existent. I was well aware I was probably—okay, definitely—torching any shot I had at getting the role. And while I may have possibly been able to impress one or both of the guys who’d been kind enough to watch me, Hartley probably would have canned me on principle. What that principle was, was beyond me, but it was clear he’d already made his mind up. Which meant I didn’t have much more to lose other than letting him get away with being a jerk.

  “You were late. You missed your audition, but somehow I’m rude for leaving?” He glowered, his voice laced with disbelief. “Listen, pixie dust, I haven’t got time to sit around, rearranging my schedule because you couldn’t decide which dress to wear. Here’s a piece of free advice, get a watch, be on time. Now get out of my car.”

  Ordinarily getting into a vehicle with a stranger was a bad idea. Even one as good-looking as Jagger Hartley. But I took Ubers all the time and had yet to be kidnapped so I was going to take my chances.

  Plus, I still had a point to prove.

  “I own a watch,” I huffed back. “And I’m not usually late. But you were right there.” I pointed to the rear of the theatre. “And I told you, I was sorry, and it had been an emergency. And while I get you don’t owe me anything, it doesn’t give you the right to be so rude.”

  His brow rose, the disbelief written all over his face as he looked at me still sitting in the passenger seat. Like he couldn’t quite believe I hadn’t gotten out of his car like he’d asked, or dissolved into a puddle of goo or whatever evil he was attempting to conjure up with those sexy hazel eyes.

  And yes, they were sexy.

  Even though I was mad as hell, and there was a possibility he could bludgeon me to death with his tire iron, there was no denying he was incredibly handsome.

  “You done?” His sexy chest—yeah, I’d noticed—rising and falling as he blew out a breath. “Because when I said I had to leave, I meant I had to leave. So do us both a favor and get out of my car.”

  “Say sorry.” I folded my arms across my chest, unwilling to leave until I got an apology.

  “Excuse me?” He laughed, rearing back in surprise. “When I’d asked you earlier if you were insane, I didn’t think I was actually right.”

  “I said sorry for being late, you should say sorry for being rude. That’s only fair.”

  I didn’t budge, meeting his gaze and not making any move to leave. Since I’d already blown my audition and I didn’t have any solid plans for the rest of the afternoon, I had nowhere else to be. And I could wait all day if needed, determined to prove a point. It was one of my favorite things to do, next to being positive and spreading happiness.

  “No.” He turned, folding his arms across his chest, staring me down as those hypnotic hazel eyes darkened. “I’m not apologizing. Now get out.”

  Uhhhhhhhhhhh.

  Honestly, the smart thing would have been to get out of the car and go beg my agent to find me something—anything—else. I was positive there’d be a cold day in Hell before Hartley would give me a second chance, let alone hire me for the part. But I was already too invested, and I didn’t want the jerk thinking he was intimidating me.

  “Guess we’ll just sit here then.” I smiled, confident that if one of us was going to break, it wasn’t going to be me.

  He had no idea what I was capable of. I’d once spent an entire summer walking on my tiptoes until my parents finally caved and enrolled me at Miss Alyssa’s Ballet School. It hurt like hell, my muscles and toes so sore I secretly snuck into the tub every night just to soak for a little relief. But as my parents found out—believing I’d get sick of my showdown within a day or two—I wasn’t easily swayed when motivated.

  “Fine.” He shrugged, apparently not willing to concede. “But we aren’t sitting here.” His sentence was punctuated by the ignition, the engine roaring to life as he put the car in gear.

  Oh, he thought he was going to scare me by starting the car.

  Ha.

  Please.

  I reached for the seatbelt, clicking it in as he pulled away from the curb and traveled down the narrow alleyway I’d run down to find him.

  He was going to stop.

  The minute we got to the main road, and I hadn’t flinched. He was going to stop and apologize, if for no other reason than to get me out of his car.

  But as we pulled onto the street, he slowed just enough to make sure he didn’t hit oncoming traffic and turned. And then kept going, accelerating as much as Brooklyn traffic would allow him, and ignoring that he had an unplanned passenger.

  Damn it.

  He was good.

  But I was better, not saying a word as I settled into my seat and looked passively out the windshield. Guess I was taking a trip, and hey, I loved nothing more than an adventure, so that suited me just fine.

  From my peripheral vision I saw him wiggle his phone out from his pocket. I continued pretending to be uninterested, all while trying to use every shiny surface in the car to help me see what the hell he was doing.

  Turns out I didn’t need my vi
sion, the sound of his Bluetooth connecting to the car sound system telling me everything I needed to know.

  “Call Dane,” he spat out, the robotic feminine voice repeating his instruction before dialing the number.

  Dane?

  He was calling his brother?

  While I’d never met Jagger Hartley before, I knew a lot more about him than just the hot-but-an-asshole rumors I’d heard. He was the eldest—and only biological—son of Kirk Hartley, a NYC painter and poet who’d been revered as a national treasure. He could still sell out an exhibition, his paintings commanding at least five figures, and that was for his less popular work. And his mother, Jane, had once danced in the New York Ballet as a prima ballerina. She was not only Kirk’s muse, but a champion for art programs in schools, the Hartley family name linked to numerous scholarships. Dane was their adopted son—and Jagger’s little brother.

  All of that learned without a Google search.

  “You better not be calling to cancel, Jagger,” the voice—Dane I assumed—responded, without the obligatory greeting. “It’s one lousy night.”

  “I’m not,” he spat back, seeing his reflection in the windshield tilt toward me before he continued, “I’m just running a little late. Got tied up in auditions with a bratty actress. I’m just leaving now, assuming traffic isn’t bad, I’ll be there in two hours.”

  Bratty actress?

  “Asshat,” I coughed out under my breath, committed to ignoring him and not wanting to be the first to cave. But I had a real problem with holding my tongue too.

  Also, two hours? Where the hell was he going?

  “What was that?” Dane asked.

  “Nothing.” Hartley yawned. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  My head swiveled, abandoning my quest to stare aimlessly out the window as it became clear I wasn’t the only person in the car who could be stubborn.

  There was a sigh on the phone, Dane taking a breath. “Okay, well get here as soon as you can. And Jagger, I know you’re only doing this because of me, and I appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, got to go, bye.” He’d barely gotten out the words before he ended the call. Either he was continuing to live up to the asshole nametag or he didn’t want me to hear what sounded like a personal conversation. Normally I’d suggest the latter, but since it hadn’t been proven he had feelings or even gave a shit what people thought, I had my doubts.