A treasure buried at the other end.
“I’m so glad you’re here with me.” A weak smile pulled at her mouth, like I was the only person she could see right then. Not the flash of the cameras or the shouts of excitement or the thrill of the A-list celebrities who would be taking up the front rows. “Actually, we wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for you, would we?”
I turned to her, cupped her face, my voice hard, low with emphasis. “You would be, Emily. One way or another, today or in a year or ten years, you would be here. There is no stopping something as incredible as what comes out of you. I know it. Believe it.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Swore, I could feel her spirit reaching for me. Twining and twisting and making me into something I wasn’t before she came into my life.
Something better.
“And sometimes we need someone to believe in us for us to finally believe in ourselves.” The second she said it, she dropped her head to mine and pressed her lips to my mouth. Two of us were caught. Hovering around the other. Breathing the other in. Nothing else existing except for the connection that tethered us.
Kept us from floating away.
Magnets.
The limo drove away behind us and another pulled into its spot.
I straightened, readjusted my tie, and took in a steeling breath. “Let’s go make you a star, Emily Ramsey.”
“As long as you don’t let me fall when I get there.”
“If you do, I will be there to catch you,” I murmured.
Placing my hand on the small of her back, I began to lead her down the aisle.
I played it as I always did, a straitlaced businessman. There wasn’t a chance anyone would recognize me as Royce Reed.
Too many years gone.
A quick name change and who I was in the past no longer seemed to count.
If anyone did find my face familiar, they would pin me as a Mylton Records exec.
Still, I was on edge, not knowing when that rat bastard Cory was going to make his appearance, but I was certain he was already there. Pompous fuck parading as a star when he was nothing but a hack who’d stepped in to steal the limelight. On top of that, I was waiting for my stepfather to show his greedy face.
That piece of shit nothing but an insult to this injury. Salt in a bitter, putrefying wound.
“Emily Ramsey?” A photog called Emily’s name, and she jumped, like she was shocked that in the midst of the flood of famous faces he knew her name.
Gathering herself, she pinned on her gorgeous smile and moved that way. I stepped away so he could photograph her, the man hitting her with a slew of clicks and flashes as she approached.
Seemed fitting considering the girl could be working a runway.
“You look gorgeous tonight. Are you excited for your first live telecasted performance?” he asked from behind the rope.
“Definitely,” she answered. “It’s a dream come true.”
“And who are you with tonight?” Brow arched, he glanced at me.
I shifted on my feet, anxious as I looked her way. She stretched her hand out for me, and I moved to her side. I angled my head, answering for her, “I’m with the record label who got lucky enough to discover the true talent of Carolina George before someone else had the chance to snatch them up.”
Emily flinched at the description.
It was a dick move.
I knew it.
But the last thing we needed when this all went down tonight was for the media to be looking deeper into it. Fodder for a frenzy.
Digging for dirt.
If they dug deep enough, they were going to find bodies buried all over the place.
Enough fuel to set the tabloids on fire.
Make no mistake.
This house was going up in flames.
But I was a firm believer acts of arson should be kept discrete.
Still, I wound my arm around her waist.
Possessively.
Could almost feel her breathe a sigh of relief.
Fuck. I wished I could go back, tell her before we’d stepped out tonight. Confess it. But everything had lined up exactly as it was supposed to.
I had to see it through.
Finally, we made it all the way to the theater doors where the guests made their way in. Right inside, the rest of the band was waiting, accepting flutes of champagne, toasting each other again.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out.
Pete.
Thank fuck.
I’d been waiting all day for his call. Pins and fucking needles that were knitting me into a cluster of anxiety.
I leaned into Emily’s ear. “I have to take this.”
Curiosity filled her expression, but then she nodded, not pushing it. I dropped a kiss to her temple since I couldn’t seem to walk away without doing it.
I paced into a secluded corner, voices and music loud, so I was lifting my voice when I answered, “Pete.”
“Royce, man. We are a go. With Fitzgerald putting a wrench in things and demanding he be in Nashville to see through the signing, we had to scramble to get everything set in place to go down there rather than here. But it’s done. His plane is in route . . . he’s going straight to Reuben Carmichael’s house where the meeting is set rather than going to the awards. Everyone will be ready and in place for when you get there.”
A lump lodged itself in my throat. My sister’s face flashed. Anna’s right behind it. “You got the two girls to testify?”
“Statements are signed. And Carolina George’s manager rolled. Took a bit, but it’s done.”
Relief blistered through my body.
Singeing.
Scorching.
Vindication taunting me. So close I could taste the victory on my tongue. Feel the destruction of it vibrating through my fingertips.
“Where are you?” I looked around, attention jumping faces as I searched for the only ones that I cared about.
“On my way to the airport. Flight is in an hour. Don’t worry, brother, I wouldn’t miss this for all the money in that piece of shit’s offshore bank accounts.”
“We can’t fuck this up.”
“There’s no way for it to get fucked, man. It’s done. Alarms are already sounding. This is it.”
“I know.”
“Okay. I’ll be there soon. Board will start receiving emails and faxes soon.”
This was it.
This was retribution.
Mutiny.
This was the war he’d never seen coming.
Twenty-Three
Emily
I stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room, fidgeting and shifting and trying to control the shallow, jagged breaths heaving in and out of my lungs. The stylist had just left after dressing me for the performance because apparently it was sacrilegious to go onstage in the same dress you’d walked the red carpet in.
Now, Melanie fretted around me, readjusting the dangly, sparkling beads that hung from the super short dress, the whole thing glitter and gold and gorgeous. The V neckline plunged so low I was pretty sure the whole world was getting ready to get a peek at my belly button, the back completely bare save for the few strings of beads that danced down to kiss the small of my back from where they hung from the thin strap where the dress clasped together.
They’d done up my makeup in the same brilliant golds, every inch of me shimmering.
Stomach in knots, I stood there feeling a million miles out of my league and somehow exactly where I was supposed to be.
“Is this really happening?” I whispered to my reflection, unsure of the girl who was staring back.
“I do hope that’s a rhetorical question, because your hot ass is due out on that stage in fifteen minutes,” Melanie mumbled from behind me, shifting the fabric over my butt as if it might stand the chance of covering any more of it.
Nerves scrambled around inside of me, butterflies traded in for a scatter of birds flapping their wing
s.
I sucked in a staggered breath.
“I mean, seriously, this dress is out of control. You’re going to be smeared all over the best-dressed features in my favorite magazines, and believe me, there won’t be a question of who wore it better. I won’t even have to make fun of you . . . question what you were thinking for wearing something so awful.”
She peeked around my side to hit me with the tease through the mirror. Though there was something soft about it . . . pride glinting in my best friend’s eyes.
There was something especially amazing about getting to chase down a dream with the people you loved most.
Then she smirked. “Unless you flash me a tit. Then we’re going to have a problem.”
My hands flew up to my barely covered breasts. I frowned at her. “If I have a boob pop out, I’m totally blamin’ it on you. You were the one who insisted this dress was the one.”
“I guess I can handle that considering the rest of the world would be thanking me.”
“I hate you,” I told her with a pout.
“You love me, and you know it.”
“Barely,” I razzed then sobered. “I love you to pieces, Mel. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I know, Em. I know. I’m so glad I’m here, too. Now let’s go out and show the world what you’re made of.”
I pulled in a steadying breath and followed her to the door. She pulled it open and stepped out into the chaos going down in the hall. People rushed and shouted, the distant roar of the speakers from the main stage rumbling through the walls and sending tremors underfoot, everything so loud that I could feel the beat of it in my pulse.
Or maybe it was the thunder that boomed through my being when I caught sight of Royce outside the door. He was leaned up against the wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
Black hair perfectly mussed.
Demeanor fierce.
Provocative in that dangerous, reckless way.
So sexy in that suit it was a wonder he didn’t get mistaken for a model.
I was beginning to think he belonged in the spotlight. The way he sang so deep and raspy, like he could hardly bring himself to do it but couldn’t stop himself. The way it seemed to have a direct connection to my soul. The way those fingers strummed across his guitar. The words he whispered in my ear.
My heart.
My haven.
My dark star.
He turned his attention on me. I couldn’t move. Glued to the spot. Pinned by that stare.
He came my way.
Melanie started humming the wedding march again.
This time I didn’t try to stop it.
I wanted it—everything he had to give, and then I was going to beg for more.
Those eyes raked me. Head to toe and back up again.
I was pretty sure I could reach out and dip my fingers into the lust pouring from him.
Flames licking into the space, kicking my heart rate into overdrive.
He leaned in to murmur with that rough voice against my ear, “You are a vision. The most stunning creature I have ever seen. You are the sunrise and the sunset and every second in between. Have half a mind to throw you over my shoulder and hide you away from the rest of the world. I’m not the sharing type.”
Desire curled through my stomach. “That’s good because I don’t share either, and I think you already know who I belong to.”
A growl reverberated up his throat, and he pressed his face into the sensitive flesh of my neck. “Mine,” he grated.
Shivers rushed and raced, and I tried to remain steady.
“Come on, you two,” Melanie cut in from where she waited behind. She pointed at Royce when he swiveled to look at her. “You can dirty her up later, but if you mess up her makeup right now, I’m gonna drop-kick your ass right out of here.”
He raised both hands in surrender. “I didn’t even touch her.”
“Liar. You have glitter on your face.”
Royce chuckled. God, I loved that sound.
Melanie snapped her fingers in the air. “Let’s roll.”
Royce wrapped an arm around my waist, protectively guiding me down the packed hall, shouldering through the throng of people who bustled one direction or another, through the disorder that blustered and spun, the chaos only adding to the thrill.
We hooked a right at one passageway, taking it before we made a left into another. I nearly stumbled in my tracks when I heard the voice on the microphone echoing through the theater as the year’s best video was awarded.
Cory Douglas.
I sucked in a lurching breath. My heart leapt into a rebellious sprint. As if it were making a bid to escape. To hide. To flee.
Fear blanketed my mind. Despair sinking in my spirit. Panic a stampede in my veins.
I can’t do this.
I can’t do this.
“Yes, you can.” Big hands were on my face, trying to get into my blackened vision, to find me in the storm. I didn’t even realize I’d said the words aloud. Didn’t know how I remained standing as alarms blared in the ugliest recesses of my head.
Mind back in his room.
Prisoner to the depravity of his voice.
“Do you hear me?” Royce demanded, words razors, none of his fury directed at me. “You can.”
“I don’t . . .” I hiccupped over the crash of fear. Legs weak. How could one moment in time become my greatest stumbling block? But I hadn’t dealt. Hadn’t let it go. Hadn’t healed.
Kept it secreted for so long that right then, in that moment, the truth of it was overwhelming.
In the flash of a second, I was whirled around and whisked into a private spot where the only thing I could feel was Royce.
The man a tower over me.
His presence thick and severe and daunting.
“I won’t let him hurt you, Emily. Never. You are safe. Listen to me. You are safe. I will never let anything happen to you. I’ll die first. Other than getting on that stage, don’t leave my side. Remember, we are taking him down. Together.”
Royce tightened his hold. “Don’t let him steal this moment from you. Don’t let him steal another second. He’s going to pay. That bastard is enjoying his last few minutes of freedom. I promise you that.”
Struggling to see through the terror, I lifted my head to meet the murderous expression etched on his face. The savagery in his eyes.
“I want to be strong. I don’t want to be powerless.”
“You aren’t. Not even close. I can feel your spirit from a hundred miles away. You have the strength. The courage. It shines . . . burns from you . . . so fiercely that it’s blinding. You can’t let him dim it. Strength isn’t just physical, Emily. It’s what’s in you, down deep inside. Show him you’re unstoppable. Show him why he’s the one who should be afraid.”
I thought maybe he heard me trying to convince myself because he was murmuring, “I believe in you. I’ve never believed in anyone the way I believe in you.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead, and he murmured the word against my skin as if he wanted to write it on my heart and mind, “Soulshine.”
But the truth of it was that he was mine.
What made me burn.
I nodded frantically against the soft embrace. Gulped back the panic. Tried to bind the fear. “Okay,” I rushed.
Relief blasted across Royce’s expression. “Good girl. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Royce led me back to the edge of the stage where the rest of the band was gathered, waiting for our cue.
Richard shot me a look of worry, and Royce shot him one back, standing staunch at my side, a barrier from the rest of the world.
Terror quivered in a wave under my skin when Cory Douglas started to exit the stage with the members of the popular country band that had just received their award.
From where he stood next to me, a palpable rush of anxiety rolled through Richard. His own apprehensive awareness skittering through his spirit.
But I could barely contemplate it. Not with the tremor of sickness that rolled through my body.
A tumble of dread.
Blond hair unkempt the way he always wore it, the disgusting man smiling his outrageous smile, knowing people were fawning over him. Wanting to touch him and have a piece of him, while I wanted to rush out, grab a mic, and shout what he’d done.
Let it carry to the heavens, to the airwaves, go on forever until there wasn’t anything left for him.
Rage bristled from Royce’s flesh, as if sharp barbs had spiked from his skin, the ghastly images he’d etched there roiling and shouting their hate. I had to wonder if it somehow went as deep as mine. If he felt that much for me that he couldn’t breathe.
He tightened his hold on my side, his glare enough to decimate the opulent theater.
Cory made it to the wings, and he was immediately surrounded by his entourage. But he stumbled a bit when he saw me, a grin splitting his face, depravity in his eye as his stare hit my body.
Vomit churned in my guts, threatened to rise.
Royce moved to stand in front of me. A living fortress protecting me from the repugnant and corrupt.
Cory’s expression shifted, his chin lifting in a challenge, and I was sure it was costing Royce everything to remain standing there while the violence lapped and surged and screamed.
Every muscle in Royce’s body was held taut.
Cory quirked a grin.
Malicious. Reeking of victorious greed.
The crush of bodies pushed him forward, and he disappeared in the midst, and I sucked in the first real breath I’d had since I’d heard him onstage. The air was thick, barely breaching my lungs, shallow as I fought to gain control.
To remember.
To remember why I was doing this.
My little-girl dreams. My brother’s ambitions. The work of this family.
I couldn’t let him take that, too.
Royce squeezed my hand, his voice gravel. “Show him who you are.”
A woman wearing a microphone on her head waved frantically at us as the lights in the theater went dim, our cue to take our spots during the two-minute commercial break.
Catch Me When I Fall Page 26
