Picture Perfect (Book 2 of the Billionaire Bad Boys)

1

LA, California…

His heart beat so hard Lance Sanchez was sure it would burst right through his ribcage as he sat in the bistro waiting. He couldn’t wait to see her. Cindy Ratter had just returned from a shoot in Morocco. A beautiful woman he had made a model through his hard work and vast connections. He didn’t mind he had adored her for some time now. Since the first time, he had seen her in that gallery. She had been a member of the serving staff that night, but something about her screamed model.

It had been a year since that night and Lance toyed with the ring in his pocket. He had fallen so hard though he tried not to make it public knowledge. His relationship was public enough as it was, but since she was gone Lance realized just how much he had missed her. It had taken a lot of soul-searching, but he had decided this was the one. The one worth settling down with. He couldn’t wait to ask her.

A smile curved his lips when he spotted her coming his way. She looked good with her short blonde hair and big starlet sunglasses with one of those toy dogs tucked away in a bulky shoulder bag. Her career was white hot at the moment. Lance stood up to welcome her home. It had been six months, and she looked even better than the last time he had seen her. Cindy playfully kissed both his cheeks very European.

“It is so good to see you.” Lance smiled as they sat down across from one another. “How was Morocco?”

“Stunning.” She said petting the pooch. “I loved every minute I wish I didn’t have to come home.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” He said toying with the ring in his pocket.

“You look fantastic, how have you been?”

“Keeping busy. I went down to San Diego to see my brother jump.” Lance was half of a pair from the first day of his life he had shared the spotlight with his twin brother Lucas. A notorious daredevil, that loved to push the envelope and make their mother grey before her years. Lance, however, reserved his energy for the red carpet. He was more interested in cameras than engines. At the tender age of twenty-seven, Lance was already a noted fashion photographer.

“I saw him on TV; he is doing well.”

“He is, but I don’t want to talk about Luke. I want to talk about us.” He said taking her hand.

“Oh, good me too.” She said, but she wasn’t smiling. “About us… there isn’t.”

Lance didn’t understand. “There isn’t what?” He asked confused.

“There isn’t an us.” She said pulling her hand away and making kissy faces at her new pet.

Wait, was she dumping him?

“I just think at this stage of my career I should be focused on my career and what is good for it at this time.”

“You wouldn’t have a career if it wasn’t for me.” He pointed out with annoyance.

“I beg to differ; Markus seems to think I can do well on my own. Without you.” She said very matter of fact. She was looking at him like he was some trend she was over. Like she could ever make the list without him. The only reason anyone ever booked her was because of his pull in the business.

“Who the hell is Marcus?” He asked with a calm he wasn’t feeling.

“Marcus Chatmen, he’s a manager with PSI and says I have a look that can take over high fashion.” She said with a cocky thrust of her chin.

“Marcus Chatmen doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Lance snarled.

Cindy took off her sunglasses and glared at him. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“I think you’re sleeping with him.” He shot back.

“Well sleeping with you worked.” Her words stung. “The only reason I went to bed with you was to get photographed, and it worked.” She said with a cruel laugh.

Of course, she did, he had been stupid to think it had been for any other reason. His whole life girls were always using him and his name to get ahead in life. To be more popular, to get on the front page. No one ever dated him for who he was just what they could get. His jaw tightened as he tried to remain composed.

Fine she wanted to f**k someone else so be it, but this Marcus Chatmen had no idea who he was stealing from, Lance wasn’t just going to lay back and take this. He had the power to make careers, and he had the power to ruin them too, but he wasn’t just going to ruin Cindy’s career…no… he was going to destroy her and her new manager. He didn’t know just how but he was going to make them both wish they had never crossed him.

“You can tell Marcus that taking other people’s toys won’t make him any friends in this business and I’m not someone you want to be enemies with; because there is nothing in this world, a Sanchez does better than vengeance. By the time I’m done with you neither of you will be able to book work at K-Mart.” He said coming to his feet and placing his hand on her shoulder he leaned over. “Cute mutt, nice to see you bitches stick together.” With that, he left her sitting alone and never looked back.

***

Cassia Dillinger walked quickly pulling her coat tight around her against the wind and rain. She was drenched to the bone having walked home from work. It had been storming for three days now. What happened to sunny California? She had seen more sun back in Texas than she had since she arrived in California. She had been in Los Angeles for two months, and so far, it was nothing like she had expected.

She had come to LA in the hopes of getting exposure and launching her career as a high fashion model. Only so far, the only thing she was modelling was the ugly teal, sixties style diner uniform she was presently wearing. Breaking into the business was proving so much harder than she had expected. It was proving to be a ‘who you know’ not ‘what you know’ sort of business… and Cassia knew no one, at least no one of any conscience.

She was sharing a posh apartment with four other model hopefuls. It was very expensive, and Cassia was spending more time working to pay her share than she was mingling.

Cassia paused at the bus stop and hid from the wind in the Plexiglas shelter to get out of the bitter cold. There were burnt spots on the glass and spray-paint tags, profanity carved into the plastic bench. On the light post just on the other side of the glass were waterlogged posters. Some for concerts, some for comedy club acts and an announcement for the upcoming photography gala at the art gallery two weeks from now.

God how she wanted to go to that gala but she like so many others want-to-be’s Cassia had not been put on the elite guest list. She could stand outside with other girls begging someone of importance to look at her portfolio, but she doubted very much anyone would give her the time of day.

It wasn’t that Cassia wasn’t pretty; she was, well not at the moment with her ebony curls plastered to her face in this heavy rain, her make up running. She used waterproof mascara, but even the best brands could not hold up in this weather. Her face was greasy every time she came home thanks to the fry vat at the diner. She used cleansers each night before bed, but they could only do so much. Her blue eyes were dark and shadowed from the late-night shifts. Leaving home had wreaked havoc on her beauty. That sweet girl next door look she had hoped to cash in on, was doing nothing for her. The problem was that everyone in California was “beautiful.” She didn’t stand out among the other hopefuls.

The bus finally pulled up, and Cassia climbed up the steps and took a seat up front. It was quiet at that time of night. Cassia had come to know the old driver well. Oscar McGuller was a potbellied old man near retirement. His hair was silver beneath his cap, and his face was lined but kind. This was the end of his route, but he had been so kind as to stop for her. Each night he picked her up at the last stop and drove her home since it was on his way back to the garage.

“A pretty little lass like ye shouldn’t be traipsing around by yourself at this hour.” He had said the night they had met six weeks ago. “Hop on, and I’ll get ye as close as I can.” He had picked her up every night since.

Oscar reminded Cassia of her grandfather. She missed her family so much. She had broken down two weeks ago and sent her parents a letter begging for money. She was finding life in LA to be rather expensive. They had suggested she come home but when she said she wanted to keep trying they had just sent her the money and hoped for the best.

“Evening lass,” Oscar said as she sat down, and he closed the doors before pulling out into the street.

“Hello, Oscar. Thanks for stopping.” She said pushing her sopping wet hair off her face.

“Nonsense, ye know I was going to stop for ye.” He teased. “Ye are the prettiest thing on my route.

Cassia smiled, she knew that was a lie. She was sure he had seen may pretty faces, but she adored him for saying so anyway. “Now I doubt Molly would like such talk.” She said relaxing back in her seat.

“Ah, the wife knows my heart.” He said turning the huge wheel and guiding the large bus around the corner. “It’s mighty fierce weather we are having.”

Cassia simply sighed even on the warmth of the bus she trembled from the cold. “Sure is. Doesn’t the sun ever shine here?”

“Aye lass but not through the rainy season.” He laughed. “I’ll take ye up to the door tonight.” He offered. Normally he just pulled over three blocks on the main route, but tonight with the bad weather he was willing to take the minor detour.

“I appreciate that Oscar.” She said closing her eyes it was late. The wee hours in the morning and she had just worked a double shift. Her feet were aching, and all she wanted was a warm shower and to go to bed.

Cassia lived in an upscale arts district. The lofts in her building were rather large with big windows and high ceilings. It was only set up with rooms for two, but the rooms were spacious, and they had managed to fit two beds in the smaller room and three in the master. All five chipping in they still managed to make the rent barely, but they were doing it in style.

Unfortunately, if Cassia didn’t get a break soon, she was going to have to break the lease and move someplace less stylish and scummier than where she was. She was so tired she hadn’t noticed when the bus came to a stop, and Oscar rose from his seat to wake her. “Lass, ye be home.” He said softly as he shook her shoulder. Cassia’s eyes fluttered open, and she felt a bit disoriented at first before she realized where she was.

“Oh, dear did I fall asleep?” She asked embarrassed.

“Aye lass, don’t fret it happens more often than ye think.” He smiled warmly and returned to his seat. Oscar pulled the leaver, and the door opened. The wind howled through the door, and the bitter cold nipped at her as she descended the steps.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, Cassia smiled back at Oscar over her shoulder. “Good night Oscar.”

“Aye, ye too lass.” She watched as the door shut and the bus pulled away disappearing down the street.

Cassia turned around and walked to the door at the side of the building. Putting her key in the lock, she pulled the heavy door open and stepped inside. Escaping the wind, Cassia shuddered. Her flesh was chilled and covered in goosebumps. Cassia paused at the mailboxes and peeked through the slats to see if her roommates had picked up the mail.

Outside Cassia could hear loud music and the sound of tires screeching to a stop in the parking lot. The music stopped when the engine cut out, and Cassia watched the door. Who the hell could be so inconsiderate to be blaring music that loud at this hour? Her heart almost stopped when the doors opened, and he walked in.

He hadn’t been in the rain long, but even that brief walk from the car to the door left him wet. His long dark hair hung heavy. Water seemed to drip off his designer leather jacket. Though it was pitch black outside, he wore dark sunglasses propped atop his head allowing her to see those eyes. Those silvery blue eyes that could steal a girl’s breathe away. He had strong Latin features with that flawless skin, straight nose, high cheekbones and full mouth.

He had the face of an angel and the body of a Nordic god. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders, narrow waist, flat abs, and long powerful legs beneath his black leather rockstar pants. His white t-shirt was wet and clinging to his hard body outlining a much-coveted six-pack belly. Draped around his neck and shoulders an off-white scarf, very trendsetting. He was gorgeous and famous.

Cassia couldn’t speak; she couldn’t believe she was standing less than five feet away from Lance Sanchez one of the most influential photographers in the entire fashion industry.

Lance stepped up to the mailbox next to Cassia and inserted his key removing a stack of mail that looked as if it had not been picked up in weeks. Dear lord in heaven he lived in the building. Then his gaze met hers quizzically, and Cassia realized she was staring like some star-struck fan.

“What?” He asked with some annoyance.

He was speaking directly to her; she lifted her hand to her ruined hair and makeup stained face realizing how terrible she must look at the moment. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Did your mama ever tell you it is impolite to stare?” He snapped rudely pushing past her his arm bumping her shoulder as he made his way to the freight evaluator. She watched as he stepped onto the elevator and pulled the safety gate down before pushing the button to his floor. Cassia quickly looked at the mailbox he had opened and read the number etched into the bonze mettle door. He lived on the top floor, two floors above her.

Cassia bolted up the steps to her floor and burst through the door. She found three of her four roommates lounging on the couches in their pyjamas and eating ice cream. Kimberly must have been dumped again. It happened quite often. She was a very beautiful girl with her blonde curls and blue eyes, but she was high maintenance and viciously competitive. Most of her relationships were shallow and short. Depending on how long each particular man she dated could hold out. No matter how good the s*x Kimberly Muckle had yet to keep one man longer than a month.

Kimberly was curled up in an armchair with a tub of rocky road in her hands. On the loveseat across from her sat Charlotte Ottwell. She was a lovely young black woman from Illinois. Her hair had been treated sometimes to give it that glossy straight look. She kept it cut short which looked good on her and cutting edge. She was trim and athletic always rollerblading at the pier when she got the time. Charlotte was rather nice, but when she got going, she could get a bit catty. Beside her sat Sabrina Wiltshire, a bombshell blonde from Nevada with a curvy figure and a bust line that made women envious and men gawk.

The only person missing was Olivia Flacon, native to Hawaii she had come out to LA for the same reason as the rest of them and so far, was the only one of them to book a photo shoot even if it was just for a local catalogue. Though she was really pretty, Olivia and Cassia didn’t get along. She was a cut-throat b***h; there wasn’t any better way to describe the woman.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked sitting up straight when Cassia came through the door.

“You are never going to believe who I saw in the lobby.” She said breathlessly. All three were hanging on her every word waiting for the conclusion of her comment. Cassia looked at the curious face of each of her roommates. None of them had been there long and judging from the stack of mail he had retrieved he hadn’t been home for some time. It was entirely possible they didn’t realize who lived upstairs.

Suddenly it dawned on Cassia that if she told them they would all be bidding for the man’s time. Right now, she was very likely the only one that knew he was in the building. She had an edge. If she could get Lance Sanchez to look at her portfolio, she could book some work. Finally, she knew someone.

She didn’t know him yet, but she was determined to get to know him. Only she wasn’t exactly sure yet how to do that. She was sure if she cleaned herself up he would never recognize her as the mess she was downstairs. Only how did she get his attention? Beautiful women must throw themselves at his feet every day. How could she stand out?

“Well?” Kimberly snapped annoyed that Cassia hadn’t spoken as they waited.

“Just some guy that looked like Brad Pitt.” She lied.

“Oh well let’s just stop the world Cassia saw some guy.” Kimberly sniffled driving her spoon back into the ice cream. “Some of us have more important things to talk about then some celebrity look-a-like.” She barked.

“I’m sorry Kimmy did you get dumped again?” Cassia snapped back. “Stop the presses Kimberly Muckle lost another loser.”

“He wasn’t a loser!” Kimberly snapped coming to her feet defensively. “He was a photographer.”

“He said he was a photographer.” Cassia pointed out. “Just owning a camera doesn’t make him a photographer.” She said removing her wet coat and hanging it up in the closet by the door. “Besides he only ever wanted to take one sort of photo.” She said suggestively. “You were more likely to end up in Hustler than Vogue.”

“At least I can get a date.” Kimberly snipped.

“Not getting a date and not wanting a date are two different things,” Cassia said heading for the bathroom. Tonight, she was going to shower and get some sleep. Tomorrow she would look her best and figure out some way to approach Mr. Sanchez.

“Please, the only man you can get to pay attention to your pasty trailer trash ass is that creepy bus driver. The man is like seventy.” Kimberly shot back following Cassia.

“Oscar is a nice man, but you wouldn’t know that because you only like jerks,” Cassia said stepping into the washroom and slamming the door in Kimberly’s face. She quickly locked the door and rested her back against it taking a stressed breath. She didn’t want to fight. She just wanted to go to bed in peace without all the drama.

Cassia stripped off her wet clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water was a welcomed change to the cold she had been in. She closed her eyes and allowed the water to caress her body soothing her muscles. Exhaustion began to set in, and Cassia felt sleep take over. She shut off the shower and wrapped a towel around her. Wiping away the steam from the mirror Cassia went through her beauty regimen before shutting off the light and heading for her room.

She changed for bed and slipped between the sheets. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

***

The reverend crossed himself, and the congregation lowered their head in prayer. Lance closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. Then the congregation was dismissed. Coming to his feet, he slowly made his way to the front lobby where Lance found his family. He had slept in and arrived late finding the only seat near the back.

Lance himself was not religious, but his mother was the daughter of a reverend herself and had been adamant about the matter. They had attended mass every Sunday no matter what city they were in at the time. They spent a lot of their time torn between New York and LA. His mother had preferred New York, but his father wanted to winter in LA where it was warmer. Frankly, Lance preferred LA. It was the perfect place to do what he loved.

“There you are.” His mother said as she threw her arms around him. Eve Sanchez was a small woman, barely five four, very thin with beautiful dark hair. She was a prima ballerina with the New York ballet company. She dressed in a white dress that came to her knees and tied around her neck. It was very stylish, something his father had no doubt picked up in Paris for her.

Damian Sanchez had once been a successful rockstar but had recently retired from the spotlight to work full time behind the scenes managing an international chain of recording studios as well as having controlling interests in the Blue Moon Recording Label. He was a busy man but had always made time for his family.

“You know I wouldn’t miss it,” Lance said with a smile.

“Because mom would kill you.” Justin teased receiving a playful punch to the shoulder.

“Now boys behave in public. Has anyone seen Luke?” Their mother asked looking around.

“Luke ran into an old friend back in San Diego. I think he stayed behind.” Lance made Lucas’ excuses.

His mother frowned with disapproval. “I hope he made it to mass.” She worried about their souls. Her children came from a long line of sinners and sinners needed church more than saints. Before they had settled down Damien Sanchez had been known as the Son of Sin, a notorious bad boy rockstar whose exploits could cause the devil to blush with shame. Of course, Lance and his brothers only knew this from stories. By the time they were born their father had hung up his horns for a halo.

Damien Sanchez was like his sons a large man towering over his wife at a staggering six foot four. His dark hair was cropped short, and his complexion was darker than that of his children with more Latin descent in his blood than in theirs. Even at sixty-two, Lance’s father was a handsome man; Lance could only hope to age so well.

“I’m sure he did,” Damien said putting his arm around his much younger wife. He had been thirty-five when they met, and she had been barely legal. It had only taken Eve two months before she ended up married to a notorious rake. Lance gave his mother props for snagging and keeping such a man. If ever he was to be trapped in the parson’s noose Lance only prayed he would be lucky enough that she be like his mother. Beautiful, strong, and clever. “Lance, will you be attending the Gala?”

Oh yes, the gala. He had received the invitation. They wanted to display some of his work among many other fantastic photographers. He would be selecting some prints this afternoon to submit. “Yes. I will be showcased.”

“Something tasteful I hope.” His mother said with one of those warning looks she had given him consistently throughout his years.

“Of course, Mother. I take only tasteful photos. I’m a fashion photographer, not a pornographer.”

“One would never know the way you act.” She disapproved of his philandering ways. Lance chased skirts like it were a sport and he was a pro. However, he did his best to keep his private life out of the spotlight. He was happy for magazines to do a spread on him, but he preferred it be because of his work and not his behaviour.

Lately his work, however, was boring him terribly. It was the same old thing every time. He was starting to think that Lucas had the right idea. Excitement was hard for a jaded man such as himself to find. Perhaps he needed to take up dirt biking too. Then again breaking his leg didn’t appeal to him.

“Speaking about fashion,” his mother began, and Lance cringed, he had a feeling about what she was about to say, “I hear that Lucy has been asking you to help her with her portfolio.”

“If I helped everyone that asked I would never have any time to myself.” He didn’t want to help Lucy, she was spoiled, and he didn’t much like her.

“She’s family Lance you should help her.” It wasn’t as much a suggestion as an order.

“Yes Mother, I will get around to it.” Eventually.

***

Cassia twisted the pin in the lock trying to get it to give. If anyone caught her, she could be in some serious trouble for tampering with the mail. She had waited for the mailman to come by. It had taken her two days to devise her clever plan. She would get some of his mail and claim that it was misplaced into her box when she returned it to him. So, it wasn’t devious, but it would give her the excuse to knock on his door. She had called in sick to work and after all the girls left Cassia had paced the lobby waiting for the mail.

Frustrated she hit the bronze door. It wouldn’t open. She didn’t have the same knack for thievery that her brother did. Dillon was two years older than her and doing six months in the county jail for his eleventh joyride. The boy had a god given ability to get into trouble there was no lock he couldn’t get past. He had in the past tried to teach Cassia the finer points of lock picking, but she wasn’t as good at it.

Cassia took a breath and taking the pin she tried again. Twisting and pushing until the pin snapped wedged in the lock. “Oh no!” She panicked looking at the snapped pin. She tried to pull the broken pin out but couldn’t get a grasp on it. Oh, dear god she couldn’t get it out. The door was still locked, and now the lock was jammed. When he tried to get his mail, he would realize someone had tried to break in.

Cassia could hear the elevator, and she bolted for the door to the stairs. Hiding on the other side, she peeked through the partly opened door as Lance Sanchez stepped off the elevator looking so good in his tanned canvass slacks, tall black leather boots and white long-sleeved button-up shirt with his long dark hair tied back. The man looked good in anything.

He made his way to the door and then snapped his finger and paused as if forgetting something. Lance turned around and headed for the mailbox. Then he paused once more and looked thoughtful. The key in his hand he stared at the lock with confusion. Then he glanced around to see if he could spot the culprit. Cassia held her breath praying he didn’t notice the door cracked. She didn’t dare shut it and have him spot the motion.

After a moment he returned his keys to his pocket and removed his cell phone as he left the building. Breathing easy Cassia shut the door and headed up to her loft. She had to come up with a new plan.

***

“I’m sorry about the mailbox.” Ted Johnson said coming into the small room of his basement loft. Ted had been the superintendent in the building since long before Lance moved in. There had been so many fans, and so-called models that found out where he lived and caused trouble that Ted had put in security cameras to provide the police with evidence should mishaps such as this occurred.

“It’s not your fault,” Lance said standing behind the chair Ted sat down on. In front of them were five monitors. One on the parking lot, two on either side of the building, one out front, one in the lobby and the last one in the laundry room in the basement.

Ted scratched his belly beneath his grey tank top and then rewound the tape of the lobby back. He had fixed the box, but they both wanted to know what had happened. “There she is,” Ted said as he played it back. It was a pretty young dark-haired girl trying to pick his lock. “Awe gee that’s one of the girls from the third floor.” He sighed reaching for the phone to call the police. “A shame she was a good tenant.”

Lance put his hand over Ted’s to stop his call to the police. “Don’t worry about it, Teddy.”

“You don’t want to press charges?”

“No harm was done. Just send her the bill for the lock.”

“That’s mighty nice of you,” Ted said looking up at him from his seated position. His hair was thin and long in the back with a bulbous nose and buggy eyes. Though he looked like a potential serial killer, he was quite kind and misunderstood. Lance could relate. Though he had been blessed to be handsome instead of grotesque Lance was often misunderstood. People had a specific concept of what he should be like, and most of his social obligations forced him into such rolls. It often made him moody and meant, but something about this girl on the video made Lance cut her a break.

He wouldn’t press charges, not this time, but he was sure this wasn’t going to be the last he saw of her. “Can you make me a copy of this?” He asked Ted.

“Sure, give me a few minutes. I’ll burn you a copy.”

“Do you know her name?”

“Miss. Cassia Dillinger, new here from Texas.”

Well then, he was going to have to have a chat with Miss Dillinger.