Hearts Collide (Infinity Prism Series Book 1)

by Kylie Walker

  “Grant? What the fuck are you doing?”

  Grant dropped the woman with a start. She landed on the floor, barely getting her feet under her as she stumbled and then fell.

  “Ouch!” She shrieked and grabbed the wall as she scrambled to a standing position. “What the hell was that for?”

  Trevor noticed that her eyeliner was smudged on her left cheek. She looked tired, worn-out. Disheveled. This wasn’t just a club goer. She was a hooker.

  “Trevor...um, hi.” Grant shifted his weight and nervously ran a hand through his hair. His eyes surveyed the area. He licked his lips and took a hesitant step towards Trevor, abandoning the girl that only seconds before he’d been locking lips with.

  “What are you doing?” Trevor asked with narrowed eyes. “I’m going to assume Emelia does not know about this.”

  “She’s at the hotel,” Grant said. “She said she wanted to get a good night’s sleep tonight.” His eyes darted around as if she might magically appear.

  “So, you thought it would be a perfect opportunity for you to go out and fuck around?”

  Trevor clenched his hands into fists. His body quivered with the need to ram a fist into his employee’s face. He could just walk away. This was none of his business.

  But he cared for Emelia and respected her as a person. He didn’t want to see her get hurt.

  Grant glanced behind him. The blonde glared at him as she slumped off, still clutching her ass that was falling out of her shorts. “Thanks a lot, you asshole,” she hissed as she passed him.

  Grant made eye contact with Trevor. “Look man. It was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His voice was shaky with unease.

  Trevor crossed his arms.

  “I’m just drunk,” Grant continued. “I didn’t even know what I was doing. It all happened so...fast.”

  Grant’s eyes searched Trevor’s, pleading for mercy. But Trevor held his tongue, mostly because he was still trying to get a hold of himself and keep from doing something he’d regret. The longer he was silent, the more desperate-looking Grant became.

  “Please...” Grant whispered and edged even closer to Trevor. “You can’t tell Emelia. Or anyone. It was a mistake. An idiotic mistake. I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

  “I can tell Emelia. And I will if you don’t. Let me make this clear. If you’re acting this way off the job, how can I trust you to do the right thing on the job?”

  Grant sputtered. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I don’t trust you. You’re going to come clean to her if you want to keep this job.”

  “Fuck that.” Grant gave a low laugh. “You can’t fire me, Trevor. You’re in the middle of a tour. Who else are you going to find to replace me in the middle of a tour?”

  That’s it. Trevor stepped into Grant, close enough he could smell stale alcohol and the woman’s remnant cheap perfume. The shorter man took a step back, his back touching the wall.

  “I can do whatever the fuck I want. You’re replaceable. Don’t ever think your not. You’re going to come clean, you piece of shit.”

  “Oh, really?” Grant cocked his chin. “I’ll come clean when you do, Jameson. Oh yeah, I saw your face when that guy asked about your past. It was the look of a very guilty man.”

  Trevor ground his jaw back and forth, one hand slapping to the wall beside Grant’s head. He lowered his face within an inch of Grant’s. He wasn’t going to play into this shit.

  “Tell. Her.”

  With that, he pushed away and walked off, aware of Grant’s eyes stabbing daggers into him as he left. He slammed through the exit door, not caring that it locked behind him. Taking a big breath of air, he raked a hand through his hair and looked to the sky.

  Everything had been going so well. Fuck!

  And now? Now it was going to crumble. Piece by fucking piece.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What do you say we enjoy a little breakfast in bed?” Grant’s eyes gleamed and his lips curled into a grin.

  Emelia chuckled and propped herself up on her elbows in between the pillows. The sheets were tangled around her legs. She was only wearing a light pink tank top and underwear, and she still felt too warm beneath the covers.

  “Breakfast in bed?” She questioned. “I don’t think you’ve ever offered to bring me breakfast in bed.”

  Grant leaned over to kiss her cheek. There was a glimmer of hope that pounded through Emelia’s heart. He had been a complete ass yesterday, storming off to the club after the show, saying he was going to party with the band. She had stayed at the hotel and gone to bed early. She was either very run down or getting a cold, and the dose of extra sleep had helped. But she still didn’t feel right.

  She figured Grant was nice now to make up for his attitude yesterday. Sad that she’d come to expect as much from him.

  “There’s a first time for everything, right?” The side of his five o’clock stubble tickled her cheek.

  “Yeah...I suppose there is.”

  He burrowed his face into her neck and began kissing her with more affection than he had displayed in a while. His hands started a slow roam over her body. Emelia had the urge to recoil. Where had that come from? She let out a breath and tried to get into the moment. They hadn’t been intimate in weeks. Not that she had missed it. Sad, that she didn’t even miss having sex with the man she was supposed to love.

  When his hand cupped her breasts, Emelia withdrew.

  “I’m not feeling well, Grant. Can it wait?”

  Anger flickered across his features as he pulled back to look at her. His hands remained on her body, slowly moving as if testing her.

  “You look fine to me.”

  She wanted to fling his hands off her but held. “Don’t I feel warm to you? I feel feverish, I think.”

  Grant made a quick show of feeling her forehead. Then, with a grin, he pushed her back onto the bed. “Nope, you feel fine to me.”

  He resumed kissing her neck, working his way to her collarbone and lower. Nausea rose in her throat. Pushing him off her, Emelia burst upright and scrambled off the bed.

  “I’m going to throw up.”

  “What the fuck, Emelia? Seriously?”

  She raced into the bathroom and hugged the sink. The sound of Grant moving around in the room sounded soft behind the pound of the pulse in her ears. Then the door slammed, and she knew he had left.

  Tears fell from her eyes as nausea raced through her. He couldn’t even stay to see her through this! After the nausea passed, she washed her face and crawled back into bed. Her cellphone chimed with a message from Chloe. Emelia rolled her eyes. Her friend was in the next room. All she had to do was walk over here. Probably good she didn’t.

  I heard the door slam. Everything okay over there?

  Fine. Grant stormed off. I’m not feeling good. You should probably stay away from me in case I’m contagious.

  You looked pale yesterday.

  Yeah. I’m going back to bed.

  She turned the volume down on her phone and settled under the sheet. Soon, her overheated body turned cold. Shivers and shakes made her tremble. Her middle clenched. It had to be something she’d eaten at the lunch buffet yesterday. Curling into a ball, she drifted off, wavering in and out between awake and sleep.

  The door to her room cracked, then clicked shut. Grant must have come back. Rolling over with a groan, she pulled herself from her sleepy haze.

  “Grant, what time is it?”

  “Two.”

  She came fully awake at the voice. It wasn’t Grant. Emelia pushed herself up, her heart skipping a beat to see Trevor standing there with a bouquet of Cala Lilies in his hand and a paper grocery bag under his arm.

  “What are you doing here? How did you get it?” Then she had another thought, and her face paled. “You shouldn’t be here. I might be contagious.”

  He set down the flowers on the nightstand. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Opening the bag on the little ta
ble, he started taking contents out. She couldn’t believe he was here! In a blue button down and dark jeans, he looked like a sexy professional. His perfectly tousled hair and skinny tie gave him a mouth-watering look she had missed.

  She had missed him, all of him. It had been too long since they’d spoken or had time together. And yet, here he was.

  “There’s a Chinese place down the street. I got you some egg drop soup, ginger ale soda, and some crackers. Oh, and Ibuprofen in case you didn’t have any.” He grinned and produced a magazine. “Oh, and this. We made the cover.”

  She took the Glamour magazine. Sure enough, Infinity Prism was rocking the cover with the title SEXIEST BAND ALIVE?

  “This is... great, Trevor. Thank you.”

  “Your door was cracked off the lock. Hope I didn’t scare you coming in. Chloe said you weren’t feeling well so I thought I’d stop and check on you.”

  Or, did he want to hit her up about her brother again? Angry at herself for having the thought, she brought the sheet to her chest and revelled in the comforting feeling inside her.

  He had been concerned enough to stop by. That was something.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Two things, Em. Actually three. But let me start with this.” He sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a good distance between them. “I’ve missed talking with you.”

  She smoothed back her hair. It was probably a nightmare mess. Oh, well. No way to look like a beauty queen when your stomach won’t stop roiling.

  “Me, too.”

  “And, I’m sorry if I sounded like a jerk asking you to intro me to your brother. Sometimes my ambition gets the better of me.”

  She looked at the sheet, smoothed it with her hand. Should she confess her concerns about that? Her worries? If he was really using her, he wouldn’t come clean about it.

  “What’s the third thing?”

  Trevor’s blue eyes darkened. He paused as if gathering his thoughts. “I’m going to assume you haven’t spoken to Grant about anything... of major importance?”

  She felt like he was hinting at something.

  “You mean, about us?”

  His hand snaked across the sheet and touched her ankle. “Not exactly. Em, there can’t be an us while you’re with Grant. But that’s for you to decide.”

  Her chest went tight. He was right. “Okay, so if that’s not it, what did you mean? Grant came home about three this morning, and I saw him about half an hour before he left again. We’ve barely spoken.”

  His touch inched over her ankle, the head of his palm a comforting warmth. She shivered, wishing he would keep touching her. All over.

  “Okay.”

  “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Trevor looked to the side, but she noticed the tension in his jaw. A sense of despair welled up in her. Grant had done something.

  Trevor moved off the bed to the table. “Later. First, I want you to eat.”

  He came back with the bowl of soup, popped the top and set it beside her. The flimsy plastic spoon he provided was comical. She picked up the bowl and took a sip off the side instead. The chicken broth was smooth and creamy, dotted with little pieces of cooked egg.

  They made small talk while she gingerly sampled the soup. Trevor was attentive, getting her a couple crackers, making sure she drank some of the soda. Hovering in case, she needed anything. When she had taken all she could manage of the soup, she looked up at him with a burst of affection.

  “You probably need to get ready for tonight’s show.”

  Trevor checked the time on his phone. “Yeah, I do. Look, if you need anything after the show, you let me know. I can send one of the guards...”

  “I have Chloe. But thank you.”

  She had Trevor, Chloe and a security guard to watch out for her. But not Grant.

  Picking at the sheet, she swallowed hard. “What did you want to tell me about Grant?”

  Trevor took her hand, moved his thumb across the back. “It’s not for me to say. But I urge you to talk to him.”

  “You bastard. You have no right!”

  Grant stormed through the room. Emelia jolted and pressed back against the pillows at the rage of his face. She’d been so absorbed in Trevor; she hadn’t heard the slide of the keycard in the lock. Trevor faced Grant with his shoulders square and his spine straight. Grant looked like he was going to throw a punch but gathered himself at the last second.

  Trevor looked unaffected.

  “Hey, Grant. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for tonight’s show?”

  “Fuck. You. Get out of my room, Jameson.”

  Emelia looked between the men, Trevor so cool. Grant decidedly not cool. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing!” Grant pointed a finger at her. “Just never mind.”

  “You said you’d tell her. I made it clear that you would.”

  Emelia scooted off the opposite side of the bed and grabbed her light robe from the floor. Slipping into it, she had to work to control her breathing. The sense of doom was strong.

  “Someone tell me what’s going on?”

  “Goddamnit, Em, I said never fucking mind!” Grant moved like he’d go around the bed to her, but Trevor grabbed a handful of the front of his shirt.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  Grant’s nostrils flared his face beet red. “Let go of me.”

  Trevor did as he asked with a little shove. Noticing something on the floor, he grabbed it and held it up with one finger. It was Grant’s shirt from the night before. He tossed it to Emelia.

  Lipstick. Black stuff smeared across the collar. Perfume. Her heart fell, tears pricking her eyes.

  Her chest caved in, her heart threatening to burst. Bonelessly, she tossed the shirt to the floor and hugged herself. Grant was glaring at her, silent. Only the sound of his hard breathing filled the room.

  “You know, Grant. Our relationship has been falling apart for a while now. This is a sign that it’s time to call it quits.”

  Trevor backed up to stand slightly in front of her.

  “You’re not serious. Em, it was a mistake.”

  “But not the first time, I suppose. Was it?”

  Grant cranked his head to the side, his fingers curling into his palms. “Don’t do this, Emelia.”

  She looked him square in the eye. “This is long overdue, Grant. We’re done.”

  With a cry, Grant grabbed Trevor’s shirt with both hands and drove him back toward the table. Trevor quickly overcame the smaller man, breaking free of his hold and forcing him back against the edge of a mattress.

  “You have a show to get ready for. And it’d better go off without a fucking hitch. Understand?”

  Grant righted himself and skirted away. He glared at Trevor for several seconds before fixing his shirt and leaving. Trevor took out his cell and made a call.

  “Yeah, tell your crew manager to watch over Grant’s work tonight. Just keep an eye on him in general. Double check everything he does.”

  Trevor’s gaze went to Emelia. He took three strides toward her and took her in his arms, holding her close until the warmth of his body was all around her. Kissing the top of her head, he pulled slightly away.

  “I’m so sorry this happened. I’m going to help you pack. You’re staying with me tonight.”

  She didn’t have the heart or the inclination to argue.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was their last morning in New York. Trevor loved the city, but he was getting antsy to move on. He had never been away from his home base in Chicago this much, and it took some getting used to. They were talking about moving to LA as soon as the tour was over, an idea he was getting on board with. This tour was the test he needed to be able to break free.

  He looked down at himself, worried he wasn’t dressed up enough, or maybe was overdressed for today’s event. Emelia was sound asleep in his bed when he had left, so he hadn’t gotten a chance to run his outfit past her. He huffed — what a relationshi
p thing to do. They weren’t even dating, and he was seeking out her approval. He had left a note with the address of where he’d be this morning, and the cell phone for his driver, in case she wanted to join them.

  He got in the car with Asher and Roman in tow. They’d just finished breakfast and were both heading with him downtown to where a charity event was to take place. He’d been asked to give a speech for a local foster group. It was a charity near and dear to his heart, having been a foster kid himself.

  Roman enjoyed helping him with the charity, Kid Cove, who provided resources and financial aid all over the country. Kid Cove worked to place foster children in either permanent homes or with adoptive parents who are otherwise both willing or physically and financially able to provide a decent home for the kids.

  Roman had a soft spot for the foster kids muddled up in the tangled world of the foster system. No doubt because he had seen what Trevor had gone through. Roman’s mom and dad had graciously signed up to be foster parents after they’d seen Trevor struggle. They had wanted to do anything they could to help. In their eyes, he had been just a kid with so many prospective dreams for the future. His talent for strumming the guitar and vocals was undeniable. They didn’t want to see him slip through the cracks.

  They’d gone through all the measures, steps and paperwork to become foster parents. Once they had their green light, they didn’t hesitate to take Trevor in. He felt like he would be eternally in their debt. The best way to repay Roman’s family for their humble and unconditional kindness to him was to give back. The best way Trevor knew how to give back was to be as charitable as time would allow him to be. He had even thought about becoming a foster dad himself, but it wasn’t in the cards quite yet.

  This tour offered a grueling lifestyle unfit for a child. He couldn’t imagine how exhausting that would be for a frightened kid who already felt displaced in the world and in lack of roots or a home.

  “Thanks for tagging along,” Trevor mentioned to Asher as they slammed the door to the Escalade shut. “Means a lot to me.”