Men Like Him - 1 | B.Barnes
Summary : Bucky Barnes made his fortune exploiting addiction—casinos, nightclubs, easy money from desperate people. Then he met a woman who spent thirty million to save a worthless man. Most people hoarded their wealth. She threw it away for love. Now, he was intrigued.
Character : Bucky Barnes x F!reader
A/N: Yup, this is the spin-off from "3 Billion Divorce"!
Main Masterlist || 2nd Masterlist
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On the first floor of Velvet Inferno, the city's most infamous nightclub, bodies moved like waves across the dance floor. The bass thundered through the walls, the DJ's beats drowning out everything else—thought, worry, consequence. Up there, people lost themselves willingly, blissfully unaware of what happened in the depths below.
But down in the basement, the music was nothing more than a muffled heartbeat through concrete and steel. Cold. Quiet. Suffocating.
You sat rigid on a metal folding chair, your fists clenched so tight your nails bit into your palms. Beside you, your boyfriend was tied to an identical chair, rope digging into his wrists and ankles. Three men stood against the far wall, their expressions hard as granite, arms crossed. They weren't talking. They were waiting.
Your boyfriend had lost money. Not exactly a debt—he'd gambled it away on some crypto scheme that crashed and burned. The money hadn't been his to lose. And now the owner wanted it back.
The heavy basement door groaned open.
Everyone straightened.
The man who entered moved with the kind of confidence that didn't need to announce itself. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell just past his jawline and sharp blue eyes that swept the room like a predator assessing prey. He wore an expensive black coat over a fitted shirt, the kind of effortless style that made dangerous men look like they'd just stepped out of a magazine spread. Handsome didn't quite cover it—he was the kind of striking that made your breath catch even when you knew you should be running.
James Buchanan Barnes. Though everyone who knew him—really knew him—called him Bucky.
One of his men dragged a chair across the concrete and positioned it directly in front of you. Bucky sat down slowly, deliberately, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the back of the chair. He pulled a cigar from his inner pocket, and as he reached for his lighter, his sleeve rode up just enough to reveal the edge of a tattoo snaking up his left hand and disappearing beneath the fabric.
The flame sparked. He brought it to the cigar, eyes never leaving you as he took a long, slow drag. The ember glowed orange in the dim light. He exhaled, smoke curling lazily from his lips, and leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world.
You and your boyfriend were wound tight as springs. Bucky looked like he was on vacation.
"I thought the kid was lying," Bucky said finally, his voice low and smooth, "when he said his girlfriend was a Hansen."
His gaze traveled over you—head to toe, lingering just long enough to make you feel exposed. Then he glanced at your boyfriend with something like amusement, or maybe contempt. Hard to tell. When his eyes returned to you, he let out a heavy sigh, the kind that said this whole situation was more trouble than it was worth.
"I always wondered what your face looked like." Bucky's eyes stayed fixed on you. "This isn't a place for someone like you, but you're willing to come here because of him."
He flicked ash from his cigar onto the concrete floor. "Such a waste."
His gaze returned to you, sharp and assessing. "With your status, you choose a pathetic bastard."
"Hey… I'm not!" your boyfriend protested.
"Shhht." Bucky didn't even look at him. "Beggars shouldn't say a word."
"Beggar?!"
"Your boyfriend here and his friend who used to work with me..." Bucky tilted his head back, eyes going distant. "Rest his soul."
He took another drag from his cigar. "Both of them came to me, asked for my money, and guaranteed high returns." His former accountant, who'd been part of Bucky's team for years, had vouched for it. And with your boyfriend's reputation as some kind of finance guru, it had seemed solid enough.
Your boyfriend had told you he'd landed a wealthy client willing to invest thirty million.
"Turns out his girlfriend saved him. Wrote a check of thirty million like it was nothing." Bucky's mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Well, it's understandable. Your mom was famous for offering three billion to divorce your dad."
Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding together.
"Oh, don't get me wrong." Bucky raised both hands in mock surrender. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. In fact, I'm impressed. Both of you were willing to pay a high price for freedom."
He paused, then looked at your boyfriend with undisguised disgust.
"But you… you wasted money on this idiot."
"My mom did it for her life," you said, voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath. "Me? I did it to save someone I care about. Doesn't matter how much it costs."
Silence stretched between you. Bucky studied you like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. But the silence is killing you.
Finally, he slapped his thigh, the sound cutting through the quiet. "I'll accept the money. Debt is a debt that needs to be paid."
He waved a hand toward the door. "Both of you can go now."
You stood, pulling your boyfriend up with you. But before you could take more than two steps, Bucky's voice stopped you.
"If you want a real man," he said, tone almost conversational, "you know where to find me."
You scoffed and kept walking.
*****
Outside, a sleek black car idled at the curb, the driver standing at attention beside the rear door. You recognized it immediately. Your mother's car.
"Shit." The word slipped out before you could stop it. "She already knows."
"Babe." Your boyfriend grabbed your arm, desperation creeping into his voice. "We're not going to break up because of this, right? You've sacrificed so much for me. I promise I'll give the money back to you."
You looked at him. Really looked at him.
God, you used to see him as hardworking. Ambitious. Someone who knew where he was going. But now, standing under the harsh glow of the streetlights with the bass from Velvet Inferno still thumping faintly behind you, you didn't know what you saw anymore. His eyes were pleading, his grip on your arm too tight. When had he started looking so small?
*******
The Next Morning
'Babe can I borrow $5 million? I promise I'll pay it back soon. I'm gonna make a podcast. With my followers, it'll be quick to get monetization.'
You stared at the text on your phone screen and let out a heavy sigh. This was the first thing you saw this morning. Not a thank you. Not an apology. Just another ask for money.
At least say thank you.
"What is it? What made you sigh like that?"
You looked up to find Jimmy standing in the doorway, coffee mug in hand. He was your family's former head of security, technically retired now, but your mom had insisted he stay in the house. For her, Jimmy was the closest thing to family she had. Back when her own blood relatives wanted her dead over the inheritance, Jimmy had been there, protecting her before she ever met your dad. You and your brother had grown up calling him uncle. Sometimes you called him grandfather just to piss him off. He hated that.
"It's…" You turned your phone around, showing him the text.
"Ooh. Him." Jimmy's expression said everything.
"Does everyone know what happened last night?"
"Yup."
"Ugh." You dropped your head into your hands.
"I've never liked that guy." He took a slow sip of his coffee. "You have unique taste in men."
You rolled your eyes.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Your mom wants to see you at eleven."
"Uncle…"
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared." The words came out quieter than you intended. You were afraid to face your mom. Afraid of what she'd say. What she'd do.
Jimmy shrugged, his expression softening just a fraction. "Aren't we all?"
*****
You went to meet your mom at the company. Even though you were scared, you had to face her eventually. Better to get it over with.
The elevator ride up to the executive floor felt longer than usual. When you finally reached her office, you took a breath and reached for the door handle, but it swung open before you could touch it.
Bucky stepped out.
You froze. "What are you doing here?"
"Came to pay my respects." He adjusted his coat, looking far too comfortable for someone who'd just left a meeting with one of the most powerful women in the city. "And I've always wanted to meet the person who was willing to pay three billion for divorcing Mr. Hansen."
He smiled, then swept into an exaggerated bow, the kind you'd give royalty. "Till we meet again, my lady."
You didn't wait for him to straighten. You brushed past him and walked into the office, your fear momentarily replaced by confusion and irritation.
The CEO's office was as grand as ever. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a million-dollar view of the city skyline, sunlight pouring in and casting everything in sharp, clear light. In the center of it all sat a massive mahogany desk, and behind it, your mother.
She wore her glasses, head bent as she signed document after document with practiced efficiency.
Your mother was a force of nature. A great businesswoman who'd not only survived the threat to lead the company handed down by your great-grandfather, but had thrived under the pressure. There were people who'd wanted her dead, people who thought a woman had no place at the helm of the family empire. She'd proven every single one of them wrong.
"Did you get a good rest last night?" she asked without looking up.
You shivered. "No."
She stopped writing. Slowly, deliberately, she set down her pen and looked at you over the rim of her glasses. "Oh. Tell me what's bothering you."
Her smile was warm. Calculating.
You told her everything. The club. The debt. The thirty million. Bucky.
She nodded slowly, fingers steepled beneath her chin. "I love you, even when you make stupid mistakes."
"I'm sorry. If it's about the money, it came from my own account."
"I don't care about the money." Her voice was calm, but there was steel underneath. "What I'm mad about is that your boy toy isn't worth thirty million."
"Mom."
"He gave the money back."
You blinked. "Sorry, who?"
She reached for an envelope on her desk, slid it across the polished surface toward you. You opened it and pulled out a check. Thirty million. The exact amount you'd given your boyfriend.
"He gave it back?" You looked up, bewildered. "What does he want?"
Your mom smiled. "He's a good businessman. He knew where you came from and decided to make a good connection."
You tilted your head, waiting.
"I invested in his business. In his club."
Your eyes widened.
"I thought, since you're my daughter, you'd have a boyfriend like your dad."
You'd been spoiled by your dad. And then by your brother, who was seven years older and just as protective. Your father had been Lloyd Hansen, a man whose reputation preceded him in every room he entered.
"May he rest in peace," your mom said softly.
"May he rest in peace," you echoed.
"To be honest, I was baffled when you introduced me to that boy toy. My first thought was, 'She chose this as a lover?'"
You cringed. You remembered introducing your ex to your brother when it was just the two of you. He'd looked at the guy, then at you, and said, "Dad would crawl out of his grave to strangle him."
And your mom had simply said, "You have poor taste."
"Now Barnes, on the other hand…" Your mom leaned back in her chair, studying you. "You're my daughter."
You crossed your arms defensively.
"He may not be sadistic like your dad, but I've heard he's strong. Smart."
"I love Dad," you said firmly. "But I don't want a man like him."
You loved your family, truly. But the business, the connections to the underworld, the constant danger… it was too much stress. You didn't want that life.
Your mom would sometimes repeat what your great-grandfather used to say: "It's impossible to be this rich without blood on your hands. And enemies. It comes as a package."
And there was another truth your family lived with. Your dad had died because of that life. He'd always known his time would come, and your mom and brother had prepared themselves for it. But you? You'd never been ready.
"If one day I die, there are three reasons," he used to say. "Old age, sickness, or my enemies will hunt me down." He'd repeated it so often it became a mantra.
You'd always hated hearing it. Every time, Lloyd would brush your hair to calm you down. "Don't be sad, my sunshine. I've had a good life. I met your mom, had your brother and you. For a sinner like me, that's already more than I deserved."
A few years later, he was gone. Shot. Your mom had been near him when it happened, but she'd been protected. Your dad's orders had been clear: forget his body, save his family first. If something happened to him, the security was to get your mom out alive.
The way he died, the hollow ache of losing someone you loved… it taught you that all the money in the world didn't matter when it came to grief.
That's why you didn't want a boyfriend from the same world, the same background as your dad.
Your boyfriend had come from an upper-class family. He was fun, always choosing a balance between work and play. He had a gift for public speaking, and people liked him. It was easy for him to gather followers on social media. He made mistakes, sure, but he tried to fix them.
He was clumsy. Harmless. And you preferred that over a man with a gun.
That's why, if you could save him with money, you'd do it. As long as he came back alive.
"My dear," your mom said gently, pulling you back to the present. "We attract men like him."
You clicked your tongue in frustration.
"Cut that out. Besides, he's going to watch over you."
"We already have tightened security."
"Yes, and no bad guy would dare hurt you. It's…" She sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose. "It's your great-aunt."
You stiffened.
"Honey, I'm leaving for a summit, and this is for your safety. Usually, it's your dad who handled this stuff."
"Why can't my brother be here instead?"
"He's busy." The answer was clipped, final. After your dad died, your brother had taken over Hansen Security. Your mom led the legitimate business empire, your brother managed the underworld connections, and you'd chosen the culinary world. Though honestly, working in a kitchen had its own kind of hell. Hell's Kitchen wasn't just a catchy name.
"Some guards will go with him, and half of them will follow me to the summit."
"So… I'm alone. And you chose Barnes."
"He offered." She leaned back in her chair, meeting your eyes. "And if he doesn't do a good job, I could bankrupt him in a second."
******
A few days later, you stood on the tarmac at the private airfield, watching as your mom prepared to board the jet.
"Don't make another mistake while I'm gone," she said, adjusting her coat.
"I'll try my best not to burn down the city," you replied dryly.
She gave you a look that said she wasn't entirely joking.
The low rumble of engines caught your attention. A convoy of sleek black cars rolled down the access road, pulling up in a precise line near the hangar.
Your mom glanced over. "Oh, he has arrived."
The door of the lead car opened, and Bucky stepped out. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit with a crisp white shirt, the jacket fitting his frame like it had been made for him. Which it probably had been. His hair was swept back, and he moved with that same easy confidence, like he owned every space he walked into. He looked less like a bodyguard and more like he was heading to a board meeting. Or a very expensive dinner.
"The bodyguard is here," Bucky approached both of you.
"Good. You're not late," your mom said approvingly.
Bucky gave her a slight nod, respectful but not subservient.
Your mom turned back to you, kissed your cheek, and walked toward the jet. You watched as she climbed the stairs, the crew closing the door behind her. The engines roared to life, and within moments, the plane was taxiing down the runway.
You stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, watching the jet climb higher and higher until it was just a speck against the clouds.
Bucky stood a few feet away, watching you even though you were pretending he wasn't there.
"What?!" you snapped, finally turning to glare at him.
"I'm just curious."
You turned fully to face him and crossed your arms. "Then ask."
"Have you broken up with your boyfriend?"
You felt your veins threaten to burst. Dear Mom, can you please come back?
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