Trouble: A BWWM Bad-Boy Billionaire Romance by Alyse Zaftig

a teenager, and I'm 18 now. I'm more than old enough to start dating."
    Chris slumped in his chair. Mom did the finishing touches on his hands. "I just don't want you to get hurt, whether it's some random guy or my best friend."
    "You are a control freak." I blinked. "Wait a minute, you kept Brayden Roberts away from me? How long have you been beating away men?"
    His eyes were on the dirty dishes on the table. "Since high school."
    I felt like my head was going to explode.
    "You've been beating them away with sticks for years? Oh my god, Chris, you seriously are over the line. I'm a normal girl, and you've stolen the experience of dating at all from me."
    "I know what kind of dating boys like Trouble do. I'm one of them. And I don't want you going on those kinds of dates or even knowing about them."
    "Trouble has been a perfect gentleman. He does roses, candles, tiramisu, the whole nine yards. He really treats me right, taking me on fun dates like Jump Zone."
    Chris' head snapped up. In fascinated horror, he said, "He took you to Jump Zone?"
    "Yeah. We go on the boardwalk and stuff."
    Chris blinked. "I don't know what to think about that." He looked like I had hit him in the face with a baseball bat.
    "You have no say over who I do or don't date. You never have.“
    His eyes were on the ground. He looked like a red-hot poker was branding his butt.
    "He's not good enough for you. You know it, too, Laila." He met my eyes, his gaze defiant. He wasn’t sorry at all for driving away my first boyfriend and his best friend.
    "You don't get to make decisions about the quality of my boyfriends. Not that I've had more than one, but still."
    He looked straight into my face, and I could see how angry he was. "Your first boyfriend shouldn't be someone like Trouble. No matter how mad you are at me, I know that for sure."
    "You might have good intentions, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions," I screamed back. "This is complete idiocy!"
    "Kids," my dad said quietly. "Knock it off. Sit down. Eat."
    Both of us sat down in our seats across the table from one another and quietly glared at each other. I couldn’t believe how much Chris wanted to interfere with my life.
    It was the most awkward Thanksgiving ever. I hated my older brother so much. He had no right to interfere with my life, my decisions, my love life. He was such a butt.
    The delicious, succulent turkey that my mom cooked for me tasted like sawdust. Mashed potatoes, my favorite, tasted chunky and awful. I was so upset that comfort food couldn't even do the trick, which upset me even more.
    Chris and I were silent for the rest of the meal. Our parents tried to fill the silence.
    "So, Laila, how are classes going?"
    "Fine," I muttered.
    My dad cleared his throat. "And Chris, how is college for you?"
    "Great," Chris said, sarcasm evident in his voice.
    Our parents looked at each other, and they let it drop. The two of them forced conversation that sounded stilted, but it was better than their children's monosyllabic responses. This wasn’t what Thanksgiving was supposed to be like at all.
    When our meal was over, the whole family cleaned up the kitchen. When it was spotless, I announced, "I want to go back."
    "But Laila," my mom said, her eyes filling with hurt. She frowned. "You don't have to go back for another couple days. Don't you want to spend time as a family?"
    I looked at Chris. "No."
    She gasped, her hand going over her heart.
    "Let it go, Sunshine," my dad broke in. "We'll sort it out. I'll drive you back, honey."
    "Thanks, Daddy." My tote bag was still in the hall, and I threw it over my shoulder. "I'm ready to go now."
    Instead of watching the game and dozing on the couch, my dad drove me back to school. We drove in silence. As I reached for the radio to have some music fill the car, my dad spoke.
    "I think Chris was out of line."

27

Parental Approval
    Laila
    M y head snapped quickly to my dad's face. "You do?"
    "Yeah."
    I blinked. "Why didn't you say