The copier turned on outside her door. Diesel jumped out of his seat at the noise to find the source. “It’s my job to do background checks on all the employees.”
“Ah. I didn’t think it was unusual to have loans.” Emily frantically tried to steer the conversation away from her and Linsey--she felt her boss's curious gaze across her desk.
No one needed to know about their family drama.
Her life was nothing like the Morgans, and normally her weekends were spent reading or seeing her friends. Tonight’s concert was the exception.
Diesel shrugged. “It’s not, but your sister makes between two to eight million dollars a movie. She should help.”
No, no, no. Her mother claimed that Emily had chased Linsey out of the family. A side benefit of this wedding might be showing her mother that she’d tried to talk to Linsey again. But as three people stared at her, her pulse zipped. She’d rather not discuss this at work. She rolled her office chair toward her desk. “My sister and I aren’t that close.”
“Will that cause a problem to the investigation?” Diesel asked.
“Absolutely not.” It was past time that she and Linsey buried the hatchet. Emily would tell her to call Mom more and then she’d have done her older-sister duty. Their mother couldn’t expect more than that from her.
Diesel retook his seat once the copy machine outside finished. “Glad to hear it. Let’s get started.”
Roy and Belle both took that as a cue to stand. Roy bowed slightly in farewell as was his culture. “We’ll leave you two alone to work out a game plan.”
“Thanks.” Emily calculated how she’d pay off her student loan, and what she wanted to buy with the remainder of the bonus money. A house might be too lonely. A condo on the beach might be nice. It didn’t have to be big, but a view of the ocean would be pretty awesome.
But what did she have in common with Jennifer to encourage conversation? She didn’t move until her boss and Belle walked into his office, and Diesel shut the door. He glanced in her trash can and at her shirt. “Do you want to go downstairs and get a coffee with me?”
“Yes.” She stood fast. Coming up with a plan to spy on Jennifer would be better with some caffeine in hand. She tucked her ruined blouse into her blue work pants and followed Diesel to the elevator. She pressed the button and Diesel said, “Tonight you’re going to the Axel Morgan concert.”
“How…” The doors opened, and she shook her head as she said, “Never mind, that’s your job.” She hit the button for the lobby. “Yeah, my boss gifted me the ticket recently.”
Her mind buzzed. Had her easy acceptance of the concert ticket suggested she’d be interested in going to a Morgan wedding too? She’d gone on a five-minute fan-girl thank you speech when he’d handed it over.
The elevator arrived at the bottom floor as Diesel said, “So, I’m getting you backstage so you can talk to him.”
Her heart almost stopped, and she fell backwards onto the wall to hold herself upright. She held her hand to her chest and checked her pulse to see if she still breathed. Tonight she’d get the chance to speak with Axel Morgan? In the flesh? She swallowed her nerves. “Why?”
Diesel shrugged and motioned for them to get out of the elevator. She made sure that she could manage to walk without falling first, then rushed after him. The investigator said, “We want people to recognize you at this wedding, so you fit in. This is the first step of the plan. Figure out a way to talk to Axel so he remembers you.”
Be memorable? That was her sister, not her. Emily chewed on her lower lip as he opened the coffee shop door. Somehow, she’d have to find a way to actually speak in front of Axel without clamming up and hugging her waist, like she had the one time she’d gone with her sister to the Oscars. Linsey had called her hopeless--and not in a cute way.
Emily ordered her coffee and then turned toward Diesel, trying to sound casual. “I'll meet him after his concert?”
“Yeah.” They walked over to pick up their drinks.
In her dreams, Axel Morgan swooped in and kissed her senseless, whisking her away from her daily routine. He’d make her body ache in ways no other guy ever had, but that was all just a dream. Right?
She couldn’t imagine what she’d do if… no, when she met him.
Diesel handed her a coffee and teased, “Don’t spill this one.”
Right. She needed to learn to think and breathe and talk in front of Axel. It might be easy for most people, but most people weren’t her. She brought shy to a new level. She pretended again with that fake smile she’d practiced for work and said, “I won’t. And, I’ll be prepared for the concert.”
He waved at her and headed toward the street rather than back upstairs. “See you there then.”
“Looking forward to it.” She held up her coffee like she’d cheer him on.
Once he left, she shuffled to the elevator. Her jeans and lacey tank top now sounded like the stupidest thing ever to wear to a concert where she was supposed to make Axel remember her. But if she showed up in a ball gown or a wedding dress like in one of her silly fantasies, everyone would laugh at her--especially Axel.
She had to stand out, so maybe she'd try a few of those makeup tricks her sister used to spout off. She’d be beautiful and put together and ditch the jeans she’d intended to wear. Somehow she needed to be more fashionable, like her younger sister.
As Emily stepped into the elevator and the doors closed, she cringed as she thought of herself in some skin-tight dress that showed off a stomach roll or two. This wasn’t going to be easy. She pressed the button and shut her eyes. Mr. Bentley and the others she worked with considered her to be a professional. Tonight she would no longer just be a screaming fan, but on the payroll. The buzz in her veins grew stronger as she stood taller.
No problem. She could handle this. All her life she had a face people trusted so hopefully this trait now worked for her benefit and Jennifer admitted something.
Easy money in the bank would be the best bonus.
Axel Morgan fixed his long blond hair behind his ears, gave a fist pump in the air, and looked out onto the crowd illuminated with phone cameras pointed toward him and his band as they wrapped up the show. To please the fans, he waved one more time, and the roar of excitement as he walked off the stage last, everyone chanting Indigo Five, hummed in his veins.
Tonight had his adrenaline up. Singing here, with his band, had given him purpose again.
Singing rocked. He’d gone too long without performing.
The chanting grew louder as Dwayne, the drummer and one of his best friends, clapped him on the back. “Axel, that performance was great.”
With his boys, he wasn’t the billionaire’s bastard son. He wasn’t just another link in the Morgan chain. Here, he was part of a team. The five of them had grown up together and were like his second family. “It will be good to be back on tour with y’all.”
“We missed you, too,” Ethan said. The pianist had a rep for ripping off his button-down shirt every concert, and was now bare-chested.
The screaming of the crowd grew louder.
Perhaps they should go give them one more song.
Ethan wasn’t in a rush to get back on stage. “How has your family been?”
Family. Yeah. Lately the House of Morgan was a lonely place to be. His three full brothers, Mitch, Damien, and Galen, had all quickly married. His sister, back from the dead, was now in college. He hadn’t accidentally killed her as a child.The guilt from that had driven him away from his family for years and years.
Now all that was gone, but something else ate at him that wasn’t guilt. He just didn’t have a name for what bothered him. All four of the band members stared at him, waiting for an answer as the crowd screamed for more. “All right. You’re all coming to Peter’s wedding?”
Jackson, the bass guitarist and known partier, widened his eyes in shock. “So you’re going?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Axel inched back toward the crowd.
&nb
sp; Dwayne’s wider shoulders had gotten him cast as the bad boy when they were children, and they now blocked the view of the stage as he stated, “Because you don’t like the bride.”
His bandmates knew him well. Axel crossed his arms and nodded. “Fair enough. I like my brothers, sisters, and mom though. So you’re coming?”
Luca, the guitarist with the British accent that made the ladies roar, nodded. “If you want us there, we’re there.”
“Awesome.” Axel pointed them back on stage.
As they strut into position, called by the fans, the whistles for a third encore grew louder. He picked up his microphone, but waited for his pals to give the signals they were ready. Dwayne twirled his sticks. Ethan gave his thumbs up--Luca and Jackson stood back to back.
Time to start.
Good.
Luca started the melody of one of their first hits and spotlights filled Axel’s eyes as he sang the lyrics.
Muscle memory took over and he walked the stage waving his hands in the air like they had in the video--he could hear women’s tears of joy as they threw bras onto the stage.
He poured his heart into the song, each chord resonating within him as he bared his soul to the faceless crowd.
The words flowed to please the world. He used to sing to right his personal wrong--like he could bring his sister back from the dead.
Now the high powered vocals from the crowd in response to his words tugged at something else inside him--something just out of his reach.
In searching, and trying to forget how he’d lost his sister that day, he’d lost himself, partied too hard, but he never wanted to turn into the typical drugged-out singer.
Dwayne was the true rock of their group for setting him straight on the road.
Axel needed to find himself, but as he finished the last set, he faded into the darkness to disappear from the crowd.
The show was over now.
Absolutely.
The band members all waved at each other before retreating to their own rooms backstage. Axel let his shoulders relax as he headed toward his room. In the dark hall, his manager and various crew all clapped, applauding his performance.
He waved back at them, and his manager handed him his cell phone.
His mother had called twelve times in the past two hours. Any other mother that would mean something was wrong, but he shook his head. Fiona, his mother, was dramatic to the point that she'd recently faked her own death. All those calls could be because the maids forgot to resupply her favorite shampoo. Before he could even dial, she called again. He picked up, striding toward his dressing room. “Mom, what's up?.”
His mother sighed. “Will you be bringing your wife to the wedding?”
Ah. That. He'd gone along with the publicity only to head off a stalker case that he hadn’t wanted to tell his mother about. “Mom, I told you, I’m not married, and I’ve never been married.”
Fiona quickly asked, “But why…”
Her voice trailed off and he knew she was pouting. His t-shirt was soaked in sweat from the stage. He needed a shower, so he lobbed a question back to her. “Why did you fake your death?”
Axel opened his dressing room door and threw his damp t-shirt on the seat. Earlier, a stylist had brushed his long blond hair so he looked like a rock god on stage. “I wanted to talk to Isabelle.”
Right. His father’s actual wife who seemed nice and reasonable might only talk to his mother because she'd ‘died.’ That made no sense, but he shook his head as he kicked off his sneakers, leaving them in a trail as he went toward the bathroom and shower. “And picking up a phone was too boring for you.”
“You swear it.” His mother ignored the topic of her death and spoke like she needed to scold him some more.
He opened the bathroom door and tossed his pants on the floor. “Mom, I’ve never been married.”
That satisfied her, for now, and she ended the call.
He dropped his phone on the vanity, turned on the shower, and washed his hair, which always helped him calm down after a show. There were no expectations here. His family didn’t matter.
Nothing on earth mattered for these precious seconds.
His phone rang and pulled him out of his reverie.
He picked up a towel and turned off the faucet. As he dried off, he answered after recognizing the caller. “Caro, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“How was your show?”
He scouted the bathroom for his clean clothes. Every venue had a slightly different set up for him.
A moment later he spotted his jeans and white t-shirt on a random black shelf in the corner. He grabbed them. “It’s nice to be back on stage.”
Caro was married to his half-brother Luke. “I can only imagine. We just want to ensure you’re a yes to this wedding fiasco.”
Family drama came at him fast. He tugged on his jeans, then buttoned them. “I thought you hated Jennifer.”
Caro sighed. “I don’t hate her. She’s kind of like an annoying older sister I never wanted--I just don’t think she belongs with Peter. I’ve always had to clean up her messes.”
He put the phone on the vanity while he pulled on his shirt. He’d never seen Caro as anything but the fashion designer and family event planner so imagining anyone treating her like the maid was laughable. “So why are you calling about the wedding?”
Socks.
The floors in arenas were always freezing.
He glanced around the bathroom and searched for his socks as Caro said, “I want Luke’s family to be united and there for my old boss when this whole thing blows up.”
The socks weren’t here. He picked up his towel and put it back where he found it. “You think this ends bad?”
If he was his handler, where would he put his socks?
Perhaps in his shoes? He found his shoes and sure enough his socks. He knelt down to put them on as Caro said, “How can it not? No one’s heard from Belle in months. Jennifer’s about to give birth to a stolen baby. And Peter’s marrying her for the baby, once the divorce to the wife he actually still loves signs off on the paperwork--even though Peter pretty much hates Jennifer. I just think the Morgans need to be united when another disaster happens so we can nip it in the bud.”
With his sneakers tied, he quickly brushed his long hair and stuffed it behind his ears in a horrible, wet ponytail, making him look the opposite of a rock star. He didn’t mind. “Caro, remind me never to get on your bad side. You’re clearly the alpha wife in our extended family.”
“I am not,” Caro said.
The tone meant he’d upset her. He opened the bathroom door. “I meant it as a compliment. My brother is very lucky.”
His gaze locked on a brunette with long, straight brown hair in a high ponytail and no bangs as Caro asked on the phone, “Are you bringing a date?”
His body stirred as he stared at the woman in a light blue t-shirt and short black skirt that showed off her long legs and calves. “I haven’t found one yet, but I assume I can, if I want?”
“Of course,” Caro said. “I’ll let you go.”
Right. His hardness for the sexy stranger distracted him. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow at this rehearsal thing.” He walked into his all-black dressing room and saw half of it was also being used as storage for tomorrow’s last show. The entire back wall was show stuff, from t-shirts, to the shower of glitter that happened to the front row during the opening song. He studied the curvy woman who, a few years ago, would have tempted him into bed, back when he was trying to forget himself. “Who are you?”
She stuck out her hand in greeting. “I’m Emily Wilson.”
Instead of touching her, he glared down as he towered over her by at least a foot. “How did you get in my dressing room?”
Her cheeks went red with a fiery blush. “I was let in.”
One of the crew must be new. He wasn’t into groupies. Axel’s stomach growled, which meant the high of performing now required a good healthy dinner.
He pointed toward the door. “Well, it’s time to go. I don’t do backstage quickies, but thanks anyhow.”
Her hand covered her lips and she shook her head. “Wait, no. I wasn’t offering.”
His ponytail fell out of the horrible elastic that had seen better days and he shook out his hair. “You’re not here for sex?”
She backed up but stared at him with big doe eyes. “Does that happen to you often?”
He tossed the elastic in a bin near the hair station. “Often enough. So, why are you here, Emily?”
This time she clutched her heart like a cartoon character expressing emotion. “You heard my name and repeated it.”
His stomach rumbled again. He was famished and tomorrow he had responsibilities. He checked the hair station for another elastic and found one as he said, “Umm… okay. I have to change and get going. It was nice meeting you.”
He headed toward the door, but she called out, “Wait.”
Emily, the groupie, had something to say after all. He fixed his hair and asked, “Why? What’s going on with you?”
She hugged her waist and started with a stutter, “I… I’m going to be in Jennifer’s wedding party, though I don’t know anything about her or your family.”
Oh. The wedding no one was looking forward to. Perhaps he should contact security about Emily, but something in his heart whispered she wasn’t a stalker. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Stay far away from Jennifer. She causes trouble, for everyone near her.”
Her lips pursed. “I see.”
And hunger was eating at him as he asked, “Is that all?”
Her gaze lowered, her blush visible to the tips of her ears. She folded her hands at her waist as she stepped toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone. Sorry for bothering you.”
Good. While she was cute, they weren’t meant to be. However, a little voice whispered in his brain that he’d been rude so he motioned for her to wait and gave her a bright smile. “After a show, I’m usually both pumped and unable to talk." He shrugged. "See you at the wedding, then?”
She backed up as if a bomb had detonated and now she was shell-shocked. Nearing the wall of supplies, Emily slowly went from bright red back to a normal color as she took a deep breath that did great things for her shirt. “Okay, well, thanks. See you later.”
Secret Bridesmaid Page 2
