“I love you,” she says, and the power she puts behind her words makes me feel like a king. I’ve been on stage with tens of thousands of fans screaming that they love me. But it’s never felt like this.
“I love you too,” I say, crunching down to kiss her lightly when the elevator pings, signalling I have a visitor. “What the hell?” Shifting Lisa to the side, I swing my legs out of bed and pull on a pair of pants.
“Was that the lift?”
“Yeah. Wait here.” I stand and tuck myself inside them, buttoning the fly.
“People can just come up here?”
“If they have the key.”
“Who has the key?”
“Karen and—”
“Marcus? Where the fuck are you?”
I let out a sigh. “And my manager, Craig.”
“He sounds pissed.”
“Well, I don’t answer his calls anymore.” Leaning down, I press a kiss to her forehead. “Stay in bed. I’ll get rid of him.”
She pulls the sheet over her body. “OK.”
“Marcus!”
I find Craig standing in the kitchen pouring himself three fingers of Macallan. “Help yourself, mate,” I say, stopping at the far end of the granite bench top as I watch him gulp it down like cordial.
“I need this,” he says, slamming his glass down and refilling it. “You have no idea of the calamity you two have caused out there. I needed a cattle prod to get through the paparazzi, and the fans. There’s a group for ‘Leave Leisel Alone’, a group to bring her back, and a group of your fans crying because they were sure you were waiting for them but you chose Leisel Marx instead. One of them is wearing a wedding dress.”
“What? How would they even know any of that? All we did was get in an Uber together.”
“After threatening Jonathan Masters because, and I quote, ‘she’s yours.’ Then offering the security guard ten grand to stop Masters from following her—and creating a fire hazard, mind you—then arguing in the street and sticking your tongue down her throat.”
I run my hand through my hair and blow out a breath. “Shit. They caught all that?”
“Imagine how I felt when my fucking phone went crazy and I was asked to confirm your relationship with Leisel Marx. I told them you’d never met the girl. Then they sent me photos and now I look like a fuckwit because I can’t keep track of my own artist. Do you know how I found you, Marcus? TM-fucking-Z. You’re worldwide news again. But this time they think you’ve gone insane. And I’m inclined to fucking agree. Leisel Marx? Leisel fucking Marx? Of all the women in the world you hooked up with the psycho ex of Jonathan Masters?”
“Don’t call her that?”
“But am I wrong? You know what she did. What happens when you go on tour and she finds out how many groupies you like screwing? You think she’ll be cool with it?”
“I wouldn’t screw around on her.”
“Come off it, mate. I’ve known you for two years and fucking is what you do. You’re a sex symbol. A rock star. You think fans will line up to meet you if they find out your dick’s off the table?”
“My dick isn’t a commodity. I’m committed to Lisa and I’m not going on tour again. So this is a moot point.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I’m done.”
“You can’t. You’re under contract.”
“I’ll buy out my contract.”
“The label won’t agree to that. They’ll sue you. You’ll be ruined.”
“I don’t care.” I take the whiskey he poured and down it, placing the glass in my sink before turning away from him. Craig isn’t a bad guy. But he is a corporate guy. And all they care about is the mighty dollar. “See yourself out, will you?”
“Marcus.”
“This isn’t negotiable,” I throw over my shoulder. “I’m done.”
“You’re ruining your life, Marcus.”
“No. I’m retiring early.”
“She’s just a cunt, mate. A hole to fuck. She isn’t worth going broke over.”
I stop walking. “Say that again and I’ll break your fucking nose.” When I turn, there’s fear in his eyes.
“Do you know what the press are calling her? The honey badger. There’s already memes about her running you down with a car. She’s not stable.”
“They’re calling me what?” Lisa appears at the entrance of the kitchen wearing the dress she had on this evening.
“It doesn’t matter, baby,” I say, moving to take her hands in mine. “Just go back to bed. I’ll be in in a minute.”
“A honey badger,” Craig snaps. “And I’m inclined to agree. You’ve come in here and torn apart his fucking career without any regard for the rest of us.”
“No, I—”
“Shut up, Craig,” I growl, moving to stand between them. But the dickhead doesn’t listen.
“What is all this? Some sick way of getting the limelight back on you? Daddy doesn’t want you, so you’re going for Marcus? What are you going to do when he cheats on you like Masters did? Cut his dick off?”
“No. I never—”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Craig. I pursued her. She didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Oh come on, Marcus. You can’t possibly be that dumb. She’s been playing you the whole time. As if she didn’t know who you were. Everyone knows who you are. As if she didn’t know she’d be recognised tonight and you’d be at that club. She probably organised the whole thing. She’s played you like a fiddle and you’re so cock obsessed with her skanky little snatch that you can’t even see it.”
Red. The only colour I see is red.
Lisa
My mouth drops open in a gasp as Marcus’s arm cocks back and his fist slams into Craig’s face with a bone-cracking crunch. The force causes Craig to stumble back inside. “Get the fuck away from us,” he booms.
“My nose. You broke my fucking nose.” Blood streams down his face as he groans and spits on the floor.
“I warned you.” Marcus grabs Craig by the back of his shirt and rushes him towards the lift. “Get the fuck out of here and don’t come near me again.”
Craig digs in his pocket and throws the plastic security key at Marcus’s chest. “You’re gonna regret this, Marcus. I will ruin you.”
“Do your worst.” Marcus leans into the lift and smacks his hand against the keypad. “I don’t give a fucking shit.”
As the elevator doors close, Craig continues to curse Marcus and me to an eternity of damnation.
“Your manager is lovely,” I say, offering Marcus a smile as he blows out his breath.
“Ex-manager,” he replies, turning his sorry eyes to mine.
“Do you really think he’ll ruin you?”
“If the label sues? Probably.” He bounces a shoulder.
“You’re not freaking out about that?”
“I was a struggling musician for far longer than I’ve been a wealthy one. So I lose the bling? It’s not like I’ve had time to enjoy it, anyway.”
“That makes me really sad.”
“Don’t be. I’m not. Unless you don’t think you can love the poor man.”
“Of course I can. I don’t care about money. I just don’t want you to regret letting go of all of this. Maybe there’s a compromise you can come to instead of just throwing it all away?”
He sighs as he drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “The last time I went on tour, I demanded an entire floor of the hotel to myself. Then I spent the whole time getting wasted and hitting golf balls down the hallway. All by myself because I couldn’t stand to listen to one more fake laugh, see one more fake smile. Does that sound like fun to you?”
I shake my head. “It sounds lonely.”
“Then I came home to finish the album, and I was hating on myself because I have everything I ever wanted but I was more miserable than ever. Then you walked in to that studio looking like a fish out of water, asking if I knew where Marcus Bailey was, and it was the first time I had genuinely smiled for
months.” He grins. “You ignited something inside me, and I just knew I had to have you. You made me work for it, but that was part of the allure.”
“I knew it.” I grin while he chuckles.
“My purpose in life was to find you. And there is no sacrifice too big if it means I keep you.”
“I feel selfish.”
“Don’t. I want this. The idea of hitting the road again makes me want to puke if I’m honest. I want the horses and the chickens. And the sex room.”
I laugh. “If it’s our house, every room will be a sex room.”
“You bet your arse it will.”
“How’s your hand?” I slide my fingers between his then lift it to inspect his knuckles. “Do you need ice?”
“It’s fine. Are you OK now?”
“With you, always.” I sigh, running my thumb over his reddened knuckles. “I’m just afraid of the repercussions of tonight.”
“I won’t let anyone talk about you like that.”
Releasing his hand, I move closer and slide my hands over his shoulders. “You can’t keep going around punching everyone.”
“I can try.”
Lifting on my toes, I press a soft kiss to his lips. “And I love that you’d even consider it.”
He laughs a little through his nose and leans against the doors of the elevator.
“Honey badger is a new one though. I haven’t been called that before.”
He slides his arms around my waist. “You’re the most beautiful honey badger I’ve ever seen,” he says, his voice smooth as silk.
I place my hand against his chest and push back a little. “About what Craig said; you know I had no idea who you were when I met you, right? I wasn’t lying about that. And I also had no clue I was going to an industry event tonight. I would have refused to go otherwise.”
He lowers his head and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I don’t doubt you. There’s no way you could have known I’d be there tonight. Craig didn’t even know. Besides, I know you. You want the least amount of attention possible. Unless it’s from me, of course.” He winks.
I inch closer to him, my lips craving the touch of his. “Why are you always so sure about me?”
“Because every time I look at you, my soul speaks to yours.”
With that, I melt. Every ounce of resolve I had. Every reason I ever had to fight being with him. It all melts away.
His soul speaks to mine…
I think that’s the most beautiful thing someone has ever said to me.
“Kiss me, Marcus.”
“Gladly,” he murmurs, pulling my body against his as his mouth closes over mine.
From the moment I met Marcus, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I didn’t want him. That I didn’t feel anything for him. But I wasn’t fooling anyone for a second, least of all him. And now, I’m admitting it to myself. I love Marcus Bailey. I want him. I need him. And I never want to give him up. We belong.
Marcus’s hands slide up my back, clutching the back of my head as his mouth moves on mine. He hums pleasurably as he inhales, breathing in my scent and loving everything about it. Just like I love everything about him.
“Let’s go back to bed,” he murmurs as his kisses move from my mouth and down my neck, just before we’re jerked out of our moment by the pinging sound of the elevator arriving on this floor.
“Karen’s turn,” he says as he pushes away from the doors, taking me with him. We ready ourselves to greet his assistant, but the lift doors open to reveal two police officers.
“Marcus Bailey?” one of them asks as soon as their eyes land on us. Asking his name is obviously a formality. I can tell by their discomfort they know exactly who he is.
“Yes?” he answers carefully.
“I’m sorry, Mr Bailey. But we’re going to have to ask you to come to the station.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“For the assault on a Mr Craig Stevens. He’s pressing charges.”
“What the hell?” I demand, positioning myself between them and Marcus like I have the power to stop this. “How did you even get here so fast? Craig bloody provoked him. This looks like some sort of setup.” My face burns with rage as I realise that little weasel must have had cops waiting for him downstairs. Arsehole.
Marcus’s hands rest on my upper arms as he gives me a reassuring squeeze. “It’s OK.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the second officer says. “We were here doing crowd control.”
Marcus releases me and places his hands on his hips. “Crowd control? There’s that many?”
“Yes, sir. The whole front of the building is crowded with press and fans.” He looks from Marcus to me. “For both of you. They have signs and everything. It’s quite impressive.”
“Holy shit.” Marcus wipes a hand across his face.
“You can’t take him out there,” I say. “They’ll take photos of him being arrested.”
“We don’t really have a choice here, ma’am.”
“Can I at least put a shirt on?” Marcus says, indicating his bare chest.
“Of course,” one of the officers says, going with him towards the bedroom.
“Do you think you could wait five minutes?” I ask the other officer. “If you let me go down there first, they’ll be so busy trying to get at me you guys could sneak out unnoticed.”
“You’d be mobbed. I can’t allow that.”
“Well, what if I leave in his car through the parking garage? That could work?”
He sighs. “For the sake of public safety, I have to advise you against that. But I can’t stop you if you choose to leave,” he says, and I understand his meaning.
“OK. Thank you.”
“Five minutes,” he says, and I could kiss him.
“Marcus, I need your car,” I call out, just as he exits his bedroom with a clean shirt and a pair of runners and a baseball cap added to his outfit.
“Um, why?”
“To create a diversion. I only have five minutes, so I need them now.”
“They’re on the bedside.”
“Thank you.” I rush into his room and grab the silver fob along with my bag.
Catching me as I rush past him, he cups my face on either side. “You don’t have to do this.”
I grip his wrists. “I want to. I’ll meet you at the station so you’re out of there as soon as possible, OK?”
“Be safe.” He presses his lips to mine.
“You forget, I’m an old hand at this.” I keep my smile confident as I get into the lift, but the moment those doors close, my face falls. Time to meet the wolves…
Fifteen
Marcus
The cops walk me discretely out of an emergency exit while the press is busy taking photos and yelling questions at Lisa. She went the long way to the parking garage so the mob would see her, and another two officers are escorting her to my car. Jesus, Lisa. She’s taking a huge risk going out there. I never would have agreed if I’d known she’d walk directly into the fray.
As I’m deposited in the back seat of the police cruiser, my chest becomes tight at the escalating noise level. I just want to go and help her. I want to keep her safe and out of the limelight like she wanted. Now she’s put herself smack in the middle of it all to protect me. She really is something.
“Listen, this is probably a really bad time to say this,” one of the officers says as we pull away. “But I'm a really big fan of both your work. The first concert I ever went to was Leisel Marx and I already have your next album on preorder, Mr Bailey. I'm sorry I had to be the one to arrest you.”
“Don't sweat it, mate,” I say, giving him a smile via the rear vision mirror. “We all have our jobs to do.”
Taking one last look over my shoulder in the direction of the noise, all I can do is hope Lisa broke free of the mob. This is one part of the fame game I won’t miss.
When we arrive at the station, I’m pushed through fairly quickly and kept out of the general area until
it’s time to be transferred into the holding pen. I’m walked down a corridor with cuffs on my wrists then the officer pauses in front of a wall phone and hands me the receiver.
“You've got five minutes,” he says. “Make it count.” I’m about to call Lisa to see how she is, but since she said she’d get here as soon as she could, I take the opportunity to do something I should have done years ago. I call my brother.
Lisa
“What the fuck happened tonight?” Sandra blurts the moment our call connects. My heart is in my throat and I don’t know who else to call.
“Oh Sandra. I know I’ve fucked up big time, and I’m so sorry. But I need your help.”
“My help? You just caused the biggest fucking calamity the music industry has seen since…well, you went nuts last time. How could you not tell me I’m best friends with Leisel Marx?”
“It’s complicated. And I promise to explain. Just not now, please?”
“Girl, you better spill your guts like you’ve been disembowelled when I see you. I want to know everything, and I think it’s only fair that I get the exclusive interview.”
I chuckle a little in response. She’s always thinking of her career. “Whatever you want. Just please, help me out.”
“What do you need?”
“Take care of Perry for me? I don’t know when I’m going to be able to go home and if the press is at my place, he’s probably freaked out by now.” I take the corner without using a blinker, still trying to lose the paparazzi. But they have motorbikes and aren’t backing off for a second.
“Oh god. Of course. Poor Perry. I’ll go there now to get him.”
All of a sudden, there’s a loud thumping noise coming from above and I lift my eyes to the sky. Holy fuck.
“Thank you, Sandra. You’re saving my arse right now.”
“It’s fine. One question though. Is that a helicopter I can hear?”
Marcus
“Marcus Bailey? You’re out.” The door buzzes and a cop slides it open, gesturing for me follow. I stand from the metal bench I’ve been positioned on for the last hour while a drunk guy lamented about his life. I think he pissed himself too.
Rock (Beautiful Book 4) Page 16
