Holt
Holy shit.
I can’t believe this guy.
I hold the card against my chest and sway from left to right.
Hmmm. Holt.
“I assume from the big ass grin on your face it’s about last night,” Callum says.
My cousin’s words shake me out of my momentary reverie.
“Yes,” I say in a shy voice. I clear my throat, “I forgot my necklace. It was still in his pocket––”
Callum holds a hand up. “I don’t need to know the details. We’re family, remember?”
After Ainsley left the suite, I checked my phone. To my absolute delight, I was greeted with a few text messages from my sexy hookup. Lucky me. Holt and I exchanged numbers before he had to slip into the night. Just because a guy asks, doesn’t mean he’ll do shit with your phone number. Of course, Holt is the exception to the rule. One of his messages mentioned he inadvertently left with my necklace. He quickly added it was a clever ruse to see me again. Yeah, my feet left the ground after reading his message.
Dear God! Holt is quickly becoming an addiction.
“Then I won’t share,” I lift my chin defiantly.
“Glad to see ‘the very hot dad’ is a gentleman. I’ll give him that much, he isn’t cheap. That’s a stunning bouquet,” he says.
“His name is Holt Christensen.”
Callum’s eyes widen like saucers and his eyebrows hit his forehead as realization sets in. “What?”
“I said his name is––”
“I might not have been there, but I caught last night’s highlights. Isn’t he the former rock star who cleaned house with his label’s record-breaking wins?”
“Yes,” I hesitate.
“He’s all over the news.”
“Is he?”
“Yeah. Did you know he’s a guitarist and a bassist? He’s one of the rare guys in music who can navigate different octaves with ease. Since he crushes bass like it’s nobody’s business, it became his calling card.”
“I didn’t know that about him.”
Callum shakes his head. “Wow. You sure know how to pick ’em. Talk about going from zero to hero.”
“He did mention he was a rock star, but I didn’t realize he was that well-known. Or talented.”
“You might want to Google him. I did. The guy has an impressive background. At the height of his career, he was considered a rock god. His band, Random Misconception, was at the top of the charts month, after month, after month. I can’t believe my little cousin managed to nab a guy like that.”
“I didn’t nab him. It was just one evening,” I correct.
“One evening followed by flowers and a note,” he says with the arch of an eyebrow.
CHAPTER 16
Holt
Even though Sydney texted me three times since I left my all-morning meeting in Century City to warn me, I’m still shocked.
As I turn off South Glendale Avenue onto Chestnut Street, I cash sight of the mob of people standing behind barricades. Half a dozen guards stand in military position, preventing the crowd from spilling onto my property. Thank God. On Monday, I gave Derrick Hammond––my head of security––the green light to beef things up. I hoped we might win an award or two, but last night was a tsunami of good fortune. I’m glad my security staff erected temporary blockades to contain the crowd. Without them, we’d have a serious problem on our hands.
There are so many fans, I have to reduce my speed to a crawl to avoid an accident.
“Out of the way.” I honk my horn in my determination to get past the gate.
As I drive through the mob, I glance at the signs these kids are waving.
Misty, I love you.
Bryant Harris, you’re number one.
Vickie Sky, you’re my favorite. Ever.
Bryant Harris, I want to have your baby.
Denisa Luka, Belinda Knowles and Taylin Shiftt can eat your dust, Misty. You’re the best.
And it goes on.
I can’t help but chuckle. This is reminiscent of our heydays as rock stars. Fast forward and this time around, the shoe is on the other foot. This outpouring of love is for my artists, not for me.
After a fairly challenging tour de force, I manage to park my Range Rover in its usual spot.
“Morning,” I say as I walk into the office.
“Good morning, Mr. Christensen,” Sydney says.
“Wow. You weren’t joking. There’s a sea of people out there.”
“Glad to see you were able to make it through without killing anyone,” she jokes.
“Barely.”
“Those little eager buggers have been trying to get into the building all morning. Do they seriously believe the artists are here?”
She’s funny when she’s on her high horse.
“We really stirred up the industry last night,” I say.
“It was absolutely ‘Shake, Rattle And Roll’,” she sings, waving her hands above her head.
I laugh.
“Good one.”
“I may make light of it, but it’s been nonstop since this morning. The phone has been ringing off the hook. There are so many emails sitting in our inbox, it’ll take the customer support staff a year to go through them. You have so many interviews lined up, don’t count on seeing your daughter ever again… because you’ll be too busy. And if that wasn’t enough, the sales team tells me we’re having a record day of sales, downloads and views to our artists’ YouTube videos—and it’s only one o’clock. In other words, boss, it’s all good for you,” she grins.
“Wow! Those are too many blessings to count.”
“Nonsense. Bask in your glory. You deserve it,” she tells me.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I chuckle. “I’m going to head to my office and bask there. Who knows? I might even get some work done while I’m in there.” She laughs. “Seriously, I have to knock off a few important things before I head out to pick up Naomi at the end of her school day. I can’t stay late.”
“Right. Best to get to it then,” she smiles.
I take a step away from her desk, but I don’t get far.
“Oh, I forgot to mention you’ve received tons of congratulatory gifts ranging from expensive bottles of vintage champagne to rare collector’s cigars. I opened everything and placed them all in the small conference room near your office.”
“Thank you. What would I do without you?”
“Well, we both know the answer to that,” she says in a pointed accent. “There is one gift that had me puzzled.”
“Why is that?”
“Angela was the first one to arrive. Someone dropped off a package at the front door. The courier didn’t bother to come in. She thought it was strange, but since she was on the phone when it happened, she couldn’t run after the guy.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And it only gets more puzzling.”
“How so?”
“The package had no sender’s name and no return address. It was a fairly large box, therefore impossible to miss. When I got here, Angela told me about it. I can’t put my finger on it, but there was something about that box. To be on the safe side, I asked Derrick to make sure it was safe to open. I mean, you never know. People can get catty in this industry.”
People will do anything for their fifteen minutes of fame.
“Was it safe?”
“As a precaution, Derrick opened it. It seems like a joke, really.”
“Why do you say that?”
“All that silk paper and big bow just for this.” Sydney opens her drawers and hands me a small typed note.
Holt,
Congratulations!
Of course, you’d be at the top of the mountain.
It isn't even signed?
What the fuck?
I look up and meet my executive assistant’s gaze. “Two lines?”
“Yup. And an extraordinarily large box,” Sydney says.
“Who the hell would bother?”
“You’re king for a day. I’m sure an old fart known for his less than honorable practices must be infuriated and very jealous.”
“Cadoc?”
Sydney crosses her arms over her chest and leans against her chair. “Who else?”
“This is too subtle for Cadoc. He’s more heavy-handed than that.”
She shakes her head in disagreement. “Knowing the weasel, it must be a warning before he starts poaching our talent again. Remember last year after the American Music Awards? He bought you a Gibson Les Paul Standard and had it shipped overnight to London.” The Gibson is a rare and expensive vintage guitar from the late fifties, early sixties. “Soon after, he started undermining you by gifting our top artist of the year with ridiculously priced gifts.” She’s talking about Myles Chadwick. “As if a twenty-year-old really needs a Tesla S.”
Yeah, Cadoc had bought Myles a luxury ride worth a hundred thousand dollars. Retarded.
“He promptly returned it,” I defend.
“Hmph,” she purses her lips. “That’s a sign of true loyalty from the lad. I wouldn’t pass it by Cadoc to come up with a more clever subterfuge to pull the wool over your eyes since this year your wins are more monumental. Best to sleep with one eye open, boss.”
CHAPTER 17
Holt
They say, ‘When you ride the wave, the thrill is so exhilarating you forget everything else’. Being a California native and a surfer, I understand that too well. Last night resulted in a monster wave and, dare I say, I rode it mightily. The whole team did. Everyone in the industry knows who I am and everyone knows my roster of incredibly talented artists. The only thing that topped this phenomenal day is ending it with the person who matters the most—Noni. And Luna, of course. Both are tucked in Naomi’s bed and sleeping soundly. Finally. My little girl was so excited to spend the evening with me, it was hard to get her to bed.
After pouring two fingers of Bacardí De Maestros De Ron rum in a tumbler, I make my way to the entertainment room. I’m more of a whiskey kind of guy, but since Google tells me this baby costs two thousand dollars a bottle, I’m willing to try it. It’s one of the many gifts I received today.
I grab the remote and slump my tired body on the plush gray L-shaped couch. I reach out and point the remote to turn the sound system on, ready to select one of the new demos I received in the past week, but the last song I was enjoying comes blaring through the speakers. I quickly lower the volume so as not to wake up my little princess and decide to enjoy the smash hit one more time before I move on to business. As James Bay’s Wild Love’s mellow rock vibe seeps into the room, my mind wanders.
I’d never admit it to Jace, but it's been too long since I was with a woman. I’ve allowed my responsibilities to take over. In other words, my cousin is right—I’ve been ignoring my cock. My wild night with Everly is testament to that. The first round was pretty fucking hot. That usually satiates me for a while until I itch for pussy again. Not with her. The other three rounds? I was just being greedy.
Although it’s been a relentless day, I can’t forget last night. No matter how many times I commanded my cock to behave, it was in vain. Time and time again, I’d flash back to some of the steamiest scenes I shared with Everly.
Her straddling me—open for my pleasure.
Her hard nipples caressing my chest with each bounce.
Her grinding on top of me without an ounce of shame.
Her chasing her climax by greedily rubbing her clit against my finger.
Her screaming out my name when she comes.
How beautiful she looks when she gives me what I want.
Her warm breath teasing my neck as we were both struggling to catch our breath.
My sweet little donut dominatrix.
I bring my hand to my hardening cock, desperate for relief, but my phone puts an abrupt end to my plans.
I can’t help but smile when I recognize the name appearing on my screen. I turn off the music and pick up.
“Hey, Beckett!”
“Hey, Holt!”
“How’s––”
“Hold up. Hold up. Hold up!”
“What?”
“Do I call you King Holt now and do I have to bow in your presence?”
“Fuck off, Beckett.”
He laughs.
So do I.
“Man, you’re king. You’re fucking untouchable. Everyone is talking about you. Do you know how many text messages I’ve received from people congratulating me for being your little brother? As if I had a hand in the matter.”
I laugh again.
“Glad to see you still make time to find out what’s happening in your big brother’s life even though you’re in Hawaii.”
“Other than Vegas, there’s no better place in the world to mix business with pleasure,” he chuckles.
I laugh.
“Seriously, congratulations,” my brother says. “I was tracking your many milestones, but since Mom insists on texting me every couple of hours to remind me to call you—with the time difference and all—it’s impossible for me to forget.”
“She’s so excited she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. Don’t get me started on Dad. I think he bought cigars and shared them with everyone in his office. Mom told me when he got home, he considered going door-to-door to share the good news with the neighbors.”
“Yeah, I can see it happening. Can you believe it? Even after all these years, those two are still our biggest supporters and fans.”
“We have the best parents.”
“We lucked out,” Beckett says.
“Which means I have big shoes to fill.”
“You’re crushing this fatherhood thing. My favorite little niece is perfect.”
“Technically, she’s your only niece related by blood, but I’ll give you that, Naomi is perfect.”
“Are you still at the office?”
“No. I had to escape to pick up my little princess. I missed her. I left her with Mom and Dad while I was in New York, and last night, I left her with Mrs. Talbot because of the StreamTunes Awards. I hadn’t seen my baby in a while. Tonight was father-daughter night.”
“Don’t tell me. Another freaking dress-up British tea party?”
He says that because the last time he was over, Naomi forced him to be a guest at one of her parties. Tiara and all. Beckett put his foot down when Naomi asked him to wear one of Lula’s necklaces to complete the look. I nearly died laughing. He was such a good sport about it. Naomi loves him to bits.
“Wash your mouth out with soap. It was high tea.”
“Ah. You can take the girl out of London, but London seems to stick to the girl like glue,” Beckett says.
“Tell me about it.”
We both laugh.
“In any case, since I barely had time to kiss her goodnight after dropping her off at Mrs. Talbot’s and rushing off to the awards, tonight was special.”
“I’m glad you and Jace found Mrs. Talbot.”
“She’s a godsend.”
After a rough few years in London—where I was building my presence in the European market—I’m back home. I have a solid team there now and since it was a struggle to find a nanny Naomi and Luna trusted, I’m glad to be close to family.
Alyssa Talbot is a veteran. She used to be a nanny until she got married. Fast toward twenty-two years, she’s now a fifty-two-year-old widow with two grown sons. For the past three months, she's been Ryder—Jace’s five-and-a-half-year-old—and Naomi’s full-time, almost-live-in nanny. Jace’s property came with not one, but two guesthouses. Lucky bastard. Mrs. Talbot lives in one of them.
“Mrs. Talbot must’ve had her hands full with Naomi, Ryder, Bridgette and the dogs.”
Jagger’s twelve-year-old daughter Bridgette has a regular sitter—Kimberly is seventeen—but Mrs. Talbot is okay with him dropping off her from time to time.
“Actually, it was only Naomi and Luna.”
“The Halsey brothers were MIA
at the awards?”
“Yeah. They couldn’t make it.”
“Why?” Beckett asks.
“God knows what the little guy ate, but by the end of the afternoon Ryder was puking his guts out. The school called Jace and asked him to pick up his son early. He didn’t want to leave Ryder with Mrs. Talbot. Bridgette twisted her ankle at basketball practice. Jagger stayed home to take care of his little girl.”
“Talk about a double whammy.”
“I know. Kids come first. Knock on wood, Naomi is healthy. I checked up on both cousins after the award show last night and the little ones weren’t doing too good. Luckily, Ryder and Bridgette were feeling much better this morning. Ryder went to school, but Bridgette stayed home with Jagger.”
“Thank God the kids are okay. I’ll have to give them a call when I hang up with you.”
“That’d be a good idea. So all that to say, both Halseys were on daddy duty last night.”
“Are you telling me it was an open playing field for you?” Beckett asks.
“What are you talking about?”
I know exactly where this is going.
“We know Jagger looks, but doesn’t touch. After so many years, I wonder if his cock still works––”
“Beckett,” I scold.
“His soldiers must be eager for some action––”
“Beck––”
“Moving right along. Jace, on the other hand, is all about touching. And feeling. If Jace Halsey didn’t attend, the selection of gorgeous women must’ve been plentiful. How many pussies did you wreck?” Beckett bursts into laughter before I can answer. “I know, I know. You have too many responsibilities to bother getting your cock wet. Mr. Dad prefers his fist to a warm hole. Maybe I should buy you one of those robot lifelike dolls they’re selling at ten thousand a pop? It’s not like the real thing, but close.”
He loses it again.
“Keep that up and I’ll hang up on you.”
“Sorry. Celibacy sounds like an absolute bitch. I don’t know how Jagger and you do it.”
I keep my mouth shut.
“Holt? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Torrid Rush: A Single Dad Romance (Bad Boy Studs Book 3) Page 14
