Billionaire Theo: Billionaire Black Brothers, #3

By Josie Snow

Theo Black lost his entire band to an awful accident, that also nearly took his life. He nearly lost his life again after spiraling into a coke frenzy. Now fresh out of rehab, he gets thrown together with Erica. She's nice and sweet and helps him to get back to himself, but their happy ending is marred by a truth she's hiding. 

 

Erica has had a rough life, she grew up poor then lost her only sister in an accident that left her nephew in a care facility. When she gets a job to write an expose on Theo Black, she takes it even though she knows it's wrong. She needs to keep her job though. She doesn't expect to fall for him or for her conscious to finally take a stand. When the truth comes out her new life will crumble, but can it be salvaged with the truth?

• Language: English
• Publisher: DM
• Release date: May 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393238270

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Chapter 1

Theo

I wandered around my empty mansion, lonely on a quiet Sunday afternoon. I could have used the fact that I had the following day off to get hammered the night before, when I had gone to one of Jaxon’s clubs, but I kept it to one single beer the entire night. And I sipped on it at that.

Of course, it wasn’t like it was any surprise to me to have the day off. I’d had days off for more than six months now, and I wasn’t eager to return to work any time soon. Being the man I was, I didn’t have to worry about it, either.

Though I was one of ten sons in a single family, it was a family of billionaires. Our father made sure each and every one of us would be well taken care of when he passed, and we were. Even our mom was able to travel the world and dedicate her time to charity events and other things she found to do with herself to keep from getting bored, and all without batting an eye.

Many of us decided to work anyway. Adam was known for buying and selling cars, and not just any cars, either. He bought vintage, he bought muscle, he bought the latest and greatest. Then he’d make them greater than ever and sell them at a profit, not that he needed it.

Then there was Jaxon. Though he had gotten into the business of buying night clubs out of boredom, he fell in love with the trade and now owned more than two hundred across the country – some of the most famous being right here in Las Angeles.

His biggest and most popular were in Hollywood, but there were plenty around the city that certainly brought in their fair share of money on a monthly basis. And that doesn’t even count what he was making in Chicago, Orlando, Las Vegas, and pretty much anywhere in New England.

It was his passion, and it was obvious that it was. And there was a time when it was my passion to play at the clubs on the nights he was looking for a live band. More often than not, it was my band with my boys, but that was all before. Before everything went down.

Before rehab.

I thought it ironic how fast my life could change overnight. One day I woke up and life was all but perfect, then the next morning I woke up nearly dead. And that wasn’t even the worst of what was to come.

I thought losing the band to a terrible, horrific tragedy was bad. I thought nearly losing my own life to the same tragedy was bad. I thought my life changing and the fact that my mother was so disappointed with what had happened to me was bad.

But none of that compared to the downward spiral I’d taken into the world of drugs and alcohol. Sure, I still drank. All my brothers drank. It seemed to come with the territory of having more money than we knew what to do with, and a brother who owned all those nightclubs.

This wasn’t that kind of drinking, though. This was the kind of drinking that left me blacked out nearly every night. This was the kind of drinking that led to me saying and doing things I would never otherwise do. And when I threw coke into the mix, I became a madman.

I knew more than one of my brothers thought I was a lost cause and I would be found dead in my mansion one morning. Coke on the table in front of me, and a bottle of Jack on the table next to that.

But, my mother wasn’t the sort of woman to sit back and let her sons fall apart. She was right there, supporting each of us when we were doing well in life, and not at all afraid to tell us to pull our heads out of our asses when we were being stupid.

And that was exactly what she did.

Between her and my manager, they managed to convince me to get into rehab. I fought against them almost every step of the way. There were times I was convinced they had all but tricked me into going, and even more times I thought about walking out of there and telling the entire world to go fuck itself.

But, I stayed for her sake. I stayed for our father’s sake. Though he had passed years ago, I stayed because I knew he didn’t want to look down and see that one of his sons was dying of drug abuse and was refusing to get help. I stayed because of my brothers. I knew they were all there to support me.

But, like my mother, they weren’t going to support me in doing something that was going to lead to me killing myself, so I stayed in rehab until I got to the end of the sixth months I’d signed up to attend.

It was a pure technicality that I was allowed to leave when I did as it was. I was clean by their standards. I hadn’t touched drugs or alcohol for the entirety of my being in the facility, but that didn’t mean I was doing anything to get rehabilitated.

I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to dive into my feelings or the reasons that I started using in the first place. I didn’t want to get into the reasons why I was so afraid to talk about my feelings, either. Hell, I didn’t want to talk about any of it.

The therapist did his best to get through to me, but they clearly knew it was pointless to try to get the truth out of me when I wasn’t going to open up about the core problems in my life that landed me there in the first place.

And now that I was out, life felt bleaker than ever. I didn’t have anyone to hang out with, and I didn’t want to find anyone, either. All my former connections were connected to my band in one way or another, and I didn’t want to face my brothers just yet, either.

My band manager was the only presence in my life who insisted on popping up time and time again, and when my phone rang, I knew it was him before I even looked down at the screen.

Lars? I said when I picked up.

Theo! Good to hear from you. How are you doing today? he asked.

You are the one who called me, so I wouldn’t exactly say that you’ve heard from me, I replied dryly.

Yeah, not quite the point. How are you doing? he asked.

Not much has changed in the past twenty-four hours, I replied, the same dry tone in my voice. I didn’t want to talk, and I was trying to convey that as best as I could without actually saying the words.

Well, maybe if you were to get back in the studio and start writing you would feel a little different. Music was always such a release to you before, you might want to give it another shot, he said.

The idea was so ludicrous, I could have laughed at it. But, in my bad mood, I didn’t.

I’m not interested in that, I said.

Come on, Lars tried again. Why don’t you put some of what you’re feeling down on paper? That might help it get out of your system, then you won’t have to worry about talking to anyone else.

I’m not going to talk to anyone else, I replied.

You might want to think about continuing to see your therapist, he suggested, and I nearly laughed again.

The last person I’m going to see is a therapist. They do nothing but ask me how I’m feeling, and I’m not feeling anything. Pissed off at the world, wanting to get drunk, wanting to just disappear. How do you think I’m feeling? I snapped.

Well, if you’re not going to get back into therapy, at least think about the housekeeper idea? he pressed.

I rolled my eyes despite the fact he couldn’t see me. My manager had been trying to get me back in the studio since I got out of rehab, and I refused. His next bright idea was to get me a housekeeper so I had someone to talk to, which I was also adamantly against.

The last thing I wanted was someone invading my house and listening to my feelings as they went through all my things, and I wasn’t too keen on the idea of his fantasy of me finding some hot girl I could bang after she got done cleaning the place.

Not to mention I wouldn’t tell a girl in that situation any of my feelings, either. He was out of luck if he thought I would do anything that would cause me to open up about anything that happened, or do anything that would make me want to do anything but hole up and forget the rest of the world around me.

Lars, I know you mean well, but it’s just not going to happen, I said. I’m not interested in either the music or the housekeeper, and I’m not going to pretend that I am.

I know, which is why I’m going to do all the hard work for you, he said optimistically.

What do you mean? I asked. You going to start writing songs and performing them under my name?

I’m going to sign you up for another therapist. I know when you find the right one you’re going to be more than happy to tell them all about how you are feeling and what you’re going through.

Sign me up all you want, but I’m not going, and that’s final, I replied with the flat tone back in my voice.

You say that, but you’d be surprised what someone would do when you’re on them long enough, he said with a laugh. I rolled my eyes again. I had hired him because he was good at managing, and he might try to be my friend, but this wasn’t what I wanted in a friend right now.

Right now, I wanted to be left alone, and he wasn’t letting me do that.

If I get lonely, I’ll call one of my brothers, I told him. How’s that?

Not good enough, Lars replied. I’m going to give you the option here, so you feel like you have some control over your life. Either you go back to therapy, you get in the studio, or you get a housekeeper.

How about no, no, and no? I replied.

Then all three it is, he announced.

I sighed deeply, hoping the exasperation would show through my tone. I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. But, I was going to keep my cool. Part of the reason he and everyone else wanted me to get into therapy in the first place was because of the fact I was starting to let my temper get the better of me.

Sure, the coke didn’t help, but when I would throw alcohol into the mix, I would go to a very bad place, and they were all worried it was going to land me in prison, or an early grave, if I wasn’t careful.

Fine. You know what? I said at last. If I have to choose one of those, then you can get me a fucking housekeeper, but you better not think that I’m going to open up to her in any way, or that I’m going to somehow come out a better person because of it.

Great! he said, a little too enthusiastically. Once again, I wanted to reach through the phone and throttle him, but at least I felt like we were getting close to the end of the conversation. I’ll find one for you, so all you have to do is just hang out and wait for her to come knocking on your door. I promise I’ll find one you like.

I’m not holding my breath, I said.

Do yourself a favor, Lars replied. Get in the studio and just try to write something. Anything really. Even if you just put some melody down on the paper, it’s going to help, I promise.

Goodbye, Lars, I said, hanging up before he had the chance to continue. I sighed as I shoved my phone in my pocket, hoping it would take him a while to find me a housekeeper, and hoping even more than that no one else would feel the need to check up on me that day.

I wanted to be left alone, and I knew that music wasn’t the answer at this point in my life. It hit too close to home, and it brought up way too many memories. I wasn’t going to open that can of worms, even if he did think it was my solution.

I wasn’t going to write anything down, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to analyze any of my feelings. I would just go with the flow and push through from one day to the next. After all, that was the gist of what I took home from the therapy sessions I’d managed to sit through, though I’d barely been participating in them the entire time.

Just make it from one day to the next and pretend like everything was just fine. Stay off the drugs and moderate alcohol, put a smile on my face and tell everyone I was working through the demons that bothered me.

If I did that enough, then maybe they would all get the hint and leave me the fuck alone. After all, if anyone was listening to a single thing I said, they would get that was all I wanted in life.

I felt like I had lost everything, and I wasn’t going to pretend anymore.

Just living was hard enough.

Chapter 2

Erica

You wanted to see me? I asked as I poked my head into my boss’s office.

I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t want to see you, he said with a smirk. I was often on guard around him, and I hated the way he chronically treated me like an idiot. But, I put up with it because I needed the job. Desperately. I would put up with an awful lot from him in order to keep it, that was for sure.

What about? I asked.

Sit down, there’s something I want to talk to you about, he said as he motioned to the chair on the other side of his desk. I reluctantly obeyed. The last time he had me sit down he had all but told me he was going to fire me, only at the last second to change his mind.

I didn’t want to be fired, and for the