by Ella Frank
JULIEN
“I THINK YOU and Paige have everything under control, Giselle. It looks wonderful in here.” I took a final look at the food being prepared for intermission, and couldn’t have been more pleased. Not that I’d expected anything less. Giselle was a fantastic manager, and JULIEN Los Angeles’s success was a testament to her fastidiousness and professionalism.
“Merci,” she said, throwing out the only French word she knew with a grin. “Now, why don’t you head back out to the concert and find your men? As much as I love seeing you in person, I want you to relax and enjoy. This is supposed to be a mini vacation. We’ve got this.”
I took off my apron and handed it over to her. “Oui, I believe you do.”
“Of course we do. Now go, go. You don’t want to miss the opening act.”
With a final goodbye, I left the catering in her very capable hands and headed off to track down my men. The arena was close to full capacity now as I made my way past Licked After Dark—the boozy shake and alcohol stand I was definitely going to bring Robbie to during intermission.
As Ace and Dylan took the stage, I hurried over to the west entrance, where I caught sight of Robbie’s Christmas hat and Priest’s thick auburn hair. They were exactly where they’d said they’d be. Priest looked over and spotted me, and the smile on his usually stern lips made my heart thump.
In fact, the entire picture I was drinking in made my heart thump. Priest was standing behind Robbie with his arms wrapped around his waist, and Robbie was leaning back into him as he took a video of the crowd filling the decorated arena sprawling out in front of them.
I’d missed them the second I’d left them at Ace and Dylan’s brunch, but there was something to be said for coming back together again.
“Bonsoir,” I said as I stepped up by their sides, and Priest reached out to wrap an arm around my shoulders and pull me in close.
“Bonsoir, mon coeur. We missed you the last couple of hours, didn’t we, sweetheart?”
Robbie turned so he was facing the two of us and nodded. “Terribly. It felt like days, not hours. No leaving, ever again.”
I grinned and leaned in to kiss Robbie’s rosy cheek. “That’s what I like to hear from my men.”
“It’s true. So, is everything up to your standards?” Priest asked, as Robbie moved into the crook of my arm and hugged my side.
“It is. Giselle did a great job, and as you can see, Paige, who’s running the event, is clearly at the top of her game.”
“You’re telling me. This place looks amazing. I’ve been taking videos to show everyone back home.”
I squeezed Robbie’s hand and then gestured toward the crowd. “I guess we should go find our spots.”
Priest nodded and took Robbie’s other hand, then weaved us through the crowd. When we reached the roped-off area of one of the VIP sections, we were ushered in just in time for Ace to exit the stage and the lights to go down.
Robbie squealed and jumped up and down, clearly thrilled with both his place in the crowd and what we were about to see, and a second later the heavenly notes of Fallen Angel’s “Invitation” filled the arena.
I closed my eyes and let the melody wash over me, and when a loud gasp rippled through the crowd, I opened my eyes to see a piano on center stage that made my mouth fall open.
Mon Dieu. It was like something out of a dream. With feathered wings that looked ready to open up and carry the man at the piano off the stage, Halo looked ethereal, breathtaking, and one hundred percent the star he was.
The rest of the band joined him as soon as the drums kicked in, and as they really got into the heart of the song, they had the crowd eating out of the palms of their hands.
The song then shifted tempo and everyone pulled out their phones to sway along with Halo’s angelic voice as he brought the song to a close.
“Good evening, L.A.!” he called out at the top of his lungs, and when everyone responded, he flashed a heart-stopping smile. “Thanks for coming out and spending your Saturday night with us! We know this is a Christmas concert and most of you are trying to be on your best behavior for Santa, but tonight I think we’re gonna shake things up a little.” He glanced over his shoulder to his bandmates. “What do you say, guys?”
“Hell yes,” Viper responded. “Get them on that naughty list, Angel. That’s where all the fun happens.”
Halo turned back to face us. “So, what do you all say, L.A.? Want to get a little bit naughty with us tonight?”
The crowd boomed out a resounding Yes! and Robbie looked over his shoulder at Priest and I and waggled his brows. It was clear our princesse was ready and willing to do whatever it took to get on that list.
“Then what are you waiting for? We’ve got some balls to turn blue—Christmas balls. So guys, let’s get ‘Hard.’”
Viper’s guitar growled through the stadium like a hungry beast as Slade started in with a pounding drum rhythm, accompanied by Killian’s throbbing bass, and the only thought that came to mind with music like that was sex.
When Halo took the mic and started to sing about being sexually frustrated in the most indecent of ways, Robbie turned to Priest and me and made it his mission to put those words into action.
Rubbing his lithe body up against the both of us, Robbie did his best to drive the two of us out of our minds, and by the time the second chorus hit, we had him flush between us. Priest’s eyes were steely grey, and his lips pulled tight as he moved along Robbie’s back side and kissed his way up his neck. I, meanwhile, got the pleasure of feeling that lovely, hard cock of Robbie’s rubbing against mine.
The flirt was incorrigible, and all I could think was thank God this was an eighteen-and-up charity event, because this song was set to make everyone in the room a little merrier—and hornier.
Robbie aimed a cheeky smile at me, his beautiful face full of arousal and pleasure, and just as I was about to indulge my desire to kiss his shiny lips, the music suddenly stopped and the spotlights, giant video screens, and icicles dripping from the ceiling above went out—and the arena plunged into darkness.
Sixteen
Shaw
“SO AFTER THEY finish ‘Get You Alone,’ you’ll come out for the duet,” Paige said, showing the schedule on her clipboard to Trent. “Hopefully it’ll run smoother than yesterday. After that, you’re free.”
Trent nodded as he shrugged on his leather jacket. “I talked to Kill earlier, and he assured me there wouldn’t be an issue. We’ll see about that.”
“Please, God,” Paige said under her breath before giving us a bright smile. “You guys all set? There’s drinks and catering in the room next door, and if you need me, just let the stage manager know.”
“Thank you, Paige. I’m sure you’ve got a million other things to take care of.” I nodded in Trent’s direction. “I can take it from here.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can.” She hugged the clipboard to her chest and looked me up and down. “It’s gotta be helpful to have a boyfriend who’s big enough to scare everyone off.”
Trent laughed and caught my eye in the mirror as he straightened his cuffs. “It’s a perk.”
“You two sayin’ I look scary?” I feigned offense.
“Nooo.” Paige shook her head. “It’s more the height and all those muscles. No offense to Trent, but I’m sure you could bench-press him for fun.”
“You’d be right about that,” Trent said, sidling up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “It is fun.”
With a laugh, Paige headed toward the door. “And on that note, I’m gonna leave you two to—”
Before she could finish, the room went dark and the sound of Fallen Angel playing onstage went dead silent.
“Oh shit.” I could hear her fumbling with the door, and when she got it open and there was no light anywhere, she cursed again. Faint voices could be heard through her headset, and then, “The entire arena is dark?”
Fuckin’ hell. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone and
hit the flashlight so it illuminated the space, and the alarm I saw on Paige’s face wasn’t something I would wish on anyone.
The sound of the crowd beginning to panic filtered down the hall backstage, people obviously starting to freak out in the dark, which wasn’t going to help anything at all.
“How soon do the backup generators go on?” Paige flipped on her own cell phone light and darted into the hallway toward the stage, as Trent and I followed behind her. “Five minutes? In five minutes, people will get trampled trying to leave—”
“Wait.” Trent reached for her arm. “I have an idea.” When he looked over his shoulder at me, I knew exactly what he was thinking and took off toward the crew backstage. They had what I needed—thank God—and when I ran back to Trent, I held up the battery-run floodlight.
“Babe, perfect,” he said, and gave me a quick kiss. “Light me up and I’ll take care of the rest. Paige—you good?” When she nodded, he shot me a wink. “Then let’s do this.”
With my cell phone light leading the way, he walked onto the stage, past the guys of Fallen Angel still standing in their places, waiting for the generators to kick in, but the crowd wasn’t in the mood to wait, judging by the restlessness in the room. I dropped to the ground at the front of the stage in front of Trent and angled the spotlight toward him before flipping it on.
The moment Trent was lit up like a beacon in the darkness, the crowd began to hush, but then roared once they realized who it was surprising them on stage. It wasn’t until Trent lifted his hand that the room once again quieted down, waiting to see what he’d do. Even without a microphone, the power of his voice could reach out across the arena, and he chose a song that would use that power to its fullest extent.
He’d barely gotten out the words “empty spaces” when cheers erupted from those closest to the stage. Trent had made the perfect choice: a Queen anthem the audience could sing along to.
As he reached the chorus of “The Show Must Go On,” I chanced a look behind me to see that the arena was lighting up in a wave of cell phone lights swaying back and forth. The pride I felt in that moment wasn’t unusual when it came to how I felt about Trent, but feeling the energy in the room turn from anxiety to excitement was overwhelming.
My guy was a real fucking rock star, and it had never been more apparent than it was right then, with the entire arena singing along to his a cappella.
As the song continued, the power slowly began to come back on. In such a large space, it would take a few minutes for the twinkling lights to shine brightly again, so I kept the spotlight on Trent as Halo moved his microphone stand in front of him. His voice rang out clearly now, echoing out of the speakers into the arena, and seconds later, Killian joined in on his bass, followed by Slade on the drums. One by one, the rest of Fallen Angel joined in, even, to my surprise, Viper on guitar.
It felt like every person in the crowd was singing along, and as the icicle lights grew strong enough to see Trent, I turned off the floodlight and got to my feet. Before I could hightail it off the stage, though, Trent grabbed my hand and pulled me right back. He squeezed my fingers and grinned as he continued to sing, content for me to stand right there beside him in front of—
Jesus. I squinted as the massive crowd came into focus, and my knees suddenly felt weak. There were just so many people… How did Trent get up here and do this and like it?
I squeezed the ever-loving shit out of his hand, determined not to pass out and embarrass him during his big moment. Like he knew I was sweating bullets, Trent turned us so we were facing each other and finished off the song looking directly into my eyes. When he looked at me that way, nothing else existed. Not the others on stage with us, not the people watching. It was me and my guy, and he was serenading me like he’d done when I met him.
The deafening cheers once the song ended broke my trance, and Trent turned back to the crowd, waving and grinning like he knew he’d just saved the night. I couldn’t even imagine the chaos if he hadn’t thought fast and jumped on stage when he did.
“Thank you,” he said, sending off another round of screams and applause that didn’t die down as Paige walked toward us, a mic in hand.
“How about Trent fucking Knox?” she yelled, and this time I was sure I was going to go deaf. I’d be hearing these shouts echoing in my ears for days to come, but it was worth it to see my man get his due.
Yeah, proud was the understatement of a century.
Seventeen
Paige
SWEET JESUS ON a crispy cracker, just when I thought it had all gone to hell in a handbasket, Trent Knox had gone and saved the day.
Yeah, he was definitely going on my Christmas card list.
“Okay, everyone, so that blackout was fun and all, but let’s not do it again, yeah?” I said, and whoops rang out in response. “We’ve got so much more to come from these guys, but for now we’re gonna let them go recoup while you get your refill on. Go visit my girl Ryleigh at the bar and get her to make you something naughty.”
As Trent, Shaw, and Fallen Angel left the stage, I saw Ace and Dylan getting mic’d up in the wings. Okay, good, things were still somewhat on track, blackout be damned.
“In a few minutes, Ace Locke and Dylan Prescott will start the auction, so get ready to bid, and remember—this is all going to several of Ace’s favorite charities, so don’t get cheap on him.”
Laughter met my ears as I headed backstage and Christmas music once again filtered throughout the arena. For the moment I felt like I could breathe again after the heart attack the blackout caused, but I wouldn’t let myself get overly cocky again for the rest of the night. Not until it all went off without another hitch and I could drink myself into oblivion after.
“That went well.” Ace gave me a knowing grin as a crew member adjusted the mic on his collar. “Need a sedative yet?”
“Hopped up on adrenaline at the moment, but let me tell you—the crash later is going to be epic.”
Dylan clucked his tongue. “Poor Dawson. Maybe he’s the one who’ll need the sedative.”
“Nah. Ryleigh’s kept him occupied at the bar all day, and by occupied, I mean heavily intoxicated. Lucky bastard.” I let out an exaggerated sigh and clapped my hands together. “So, you two ready to raise some serious money?”
“Yup,” Ace said, waving the auction list he held. “And if all else fails and the bids aren’t high enough, Dylan will do a striptease.”
Dylan’s jaw dropped. “I'll do what?”
“Nothing says merry Christmas like a naked man.” I nodded. “Do what you need to.”
“Listen, Hotshot, if you think me getting naked would raise more than you taking off your pants, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Ace laughed at Dylan’s protests as the sound guys finished their job.
“You want an intro?” I asked, and Ace shook his head.
“Nah, we’ve got this.” He took hold of Dylan’s hand, linking their fingers. “Don’t we, Daydream?”
As they headed toward the stage, I could hear Dylan say, “Seriously, if anyone is getting naked tonight, it’s you.”
Ahh. Decisions, decisions.
I hit the mic button on my headset. “Auction in five…four…three…two…”
Screams filled the air as Ace and Dylan hit the stage, and, no longer needed backstage, I quickly made my way through the back hall to join everyone on the floor of the arena. I needed to make sure the auction went smoothly, and thank God my team knew that, because anytime someone had a question or needed assistance, one of my managers went running.
By the time I hit the floor, the guys were already in full swing on the first item, a signed guitar from our blackout savior Trent Knox.
As the bids surpassed two thousand dollars, Ace held his finger up to his ear like he was getting an incoming message.
“What’s that? Trent will personally deliver the guitar to you after the show? And it’ll be the one he’s using tonight?”
Instantly, the s
houts started up again, each person yelling out a bid also holding up an auction paddle with their special number on it. Wait, why the hell hadn’t I thought to get myself a damn paddle?
After an aggressive bidding match, Dylan pointed to a woman near the front of the stage. “Sold to number five forty-eight. Trent Knox’s guitar and all his sweat from tonight is yours. Stand by and one of our volunteers will be by to get your information.”
Not bad. These guys were better at this than I thought.
“Next up,” Ace said, looking down at the list. “An all-expense-paid private dinner for you and an unlimited number of guests at one of Julien Thornton’s signature restaurants around the country.” He raised his brows at Dylan. “I think we might have to take this one.”
“Oh hell no,” came a shout from the audience, and I would’ve recognized that voice anywhere. Logan Mitchell had a drink in one hand and his paddle raised in the other. “Ten thousand dollars.”
Dylan let out a low whistle. “All right, then. The bidding begins at ten grand.”
“Twelve,” Logan yelled again, and this time, Ace laughed and looked down at his friend.
“Bidding against yourself tonight, Mitchell? Wanna make it thirteen?”
“Thirteen,” someone else shouted, and Logan slowly looked over his shoulder.
“Thirteen five,” came another bid, and that person also got the Logan Mitchell death glare.
Yeah, I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look.
Logan’s paddle went up in the air again and he shouted, “Fourteen thous—”
But he wasn’t able to even get the words out before he was being outbid again.
Aaand that was the wrong thing to do, because Logan yelled, “Fifteen fucking thousand,” while staring down the others who had been trying to horn in on what he perceived as his prize. Seconds went by as everyone seemed to collectively hold their breath, waiting to see if anyone would dare top that, and when no one held up a paddle, Ace said, “Sold for fifteen thousand dollars to the madman in the glasses.”
