Passionate Addiction

by Eden Summers

  An hour.

  The women had been gone for three and still they weren’t back. Five men fitted and sorted in one hour. Three women who would look flawless no matter what they wore and three hours wasn’t enough.

  His cell buzzed in his pocket. Again. This time it was short and sharp, announcing a text message. His heart played giddy-up thinking it might be Gabi until he remembered the voice message Michelle left earlier today and dread entered the mix. He only listened to the first frantic words of “Blake I need—” before he deleted the message, but it still made him skittish to check his own fucking phone. He needed to change his number.

  He was sick to death of changing his number.

  Praying for another picture update from Leah, he unlocked his screen and opened the message. His stomach hollowed and his legs would’ve buckled if he’d been standing.

  This definitely wasn’t an update from Leah. Nope. This came from a private number and without reading the text underneath the image, he knew it came from Michelle.

  He stared at the picture of himself, his throat tightening with every passing second. The secrets of his past were on the screen before him. He was on his knees before a glass table lined with white powder, shirtless, his pupils dilated and crazy as his hand sat at the corner of his nose about to wipe away the coke lining his nostrils.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  You have two options. Either help me or I will have to sell this image along with many more to the tabloids. I’m sorry, Blake, I really need the money.

  His brain packed up and left the building, leaving him in a shaking, panicked mess. Leah would kill him. Mason would boot him from the band—if their record label didn’t do it first. Mitch would look at him with disappointment and disapproval, and Gabi… Oh, fuck. He was going to lose Gabi during the tabloid manhunt.

  What do you want from me? His hands trembled as he typed the message and pressed send. Maybe if he paid her off she would leave him alone.

  Christ. He pushed from his chair and began to pace. He wasn’t that naive. Michelle must be desperate if she was willing to blackmail him in the early hours of the US morning. He’d bargain, he’d beg, he’d do whatever he had to in the effort to destroy those pictures.

  He released a derisive laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to alleviate the ache. Yeah, bargain with a determined drug addict who had every fucking ball in her court. Michelle had nothing to lose. No money, a tattered career, her reputation was in the gutter, and her billionaire father wanted nothing to do with her.

  A noise sounded at the front of the suite, sending a thousand volts through his heart. Fuck. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned his attention to the hall, listening as the door opened. Gabi’s heels clicked on the tile, and he breathed like a woman in labor, trying to calm himself until she came into view.

  He couldn’t tell her. Not now. Not so close to the anniversary of her brother’s death.

  “Hello, stranger.” She beamed at him, dumping her bags on the lounge before sauntering toward him. “Did you miss me?”

  He ignored the way his chest throbbed and shoved his cell into his pocket, bridging the distance between them in two steps.

  “What’s wrong?” She placed her hands on his chest and studied his face.

  “I missed you.” He kissed her, hard, stopping her from scrutinizing him further. His chest weighed heavy with regret while their tongues tangled and her hands came around his neck. He held her close, battling the guilt that overwhelmed him, knowing he was going to hurt her, worry her, no matter how this ended.

  She pulled back and stared into his eyes. “Is everything all right?”

  “Sure is. Let me see your dress.” He made a grab for the bags on the couch, needing to place distance between them.

  “Hey!” She swatted him away. “You aren’t allowed to see until tonight.” Grabbing the bags, she clutched them to her chest and strode to the bedroom. “What time is dinner so I know when to start getting ready?”

  He breathed a silent sigh of relief and glanced at his watch. “We have an hour or so.”

  “What?” She turned on her heel. “An hour? I thought we were going for dinner. It’s only four-thirty.”

  His phone buzzed in his pocket and he closed his eyes for a brief second to pray that it was a message from Leah or Mitch or even Mason. “Mitch has a surprise planned for Alana tonight.”

  Gabi gasped and began walking back toward him with a spring in her step. “What is it?” Her eyes were alight with anticipation.

  “He’s going to propose.”

  She squealed and bounced on her toes. The reaction was so girlie and cute that for a split second his troubles vanished.

  “How’s he going to do it? At dinner? Are we all going to be there?”

  He shook his head. “No and yes, that’s why we need to get ready early. We’re taking a scenic helicopter flight down the coast. Then having dinner at a private property overlooking the ocean.”

  Gabi’s eyes widened, and she pulled a teeth-clenching expression of excitement that made him chuckle. “I better get ready.” She reached on the pads of her feet to place a smacking kiss on his lips and bounced from the room.

  When the shower started, he released the breath tightening his chest, and then remembered the unread message on his phone. He retrieved the cell from his pocket, his stomach turning in dread.

  I need money and help to get me out of the slump I’m in. Call me.

  She listed a number at the bottom of the message.

  At least she was an optimist. He would consider her problems far from a “slump”. More like a permanent vacation in the gutter. Her outlook could only work in his favor. If she was delusional, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. He could give her the money and convince her to hand over the photos or sign a legal agreement to have them permanently deleted.

  “Fuck!” He clenched his fists. He would never truly know what she’d done with the images, no matter what agreement he made her sign.

  He bowed his head. Again he was on his own. No one to turn to. No one to rely on. And this time he was determined to keep Gabi out of it. He wouldn’t hurt her with this, and besides, no woman could ever respect a man she had to keep saving. It was time to fix this once and for all—on his own.

  Striding into the bedroom, he yanked his suit from the closet and grabbed his shoes. He needed space to think and a quiet place where he could call Michelle without being overheard. With a deep breath, he opened the bathroom door and paused. Gabi stood under the shower spray, her flawless curves glistening from the overhead lights.

  She turned with a grin. “Are you joining me again?”

  He shook his head when words failed him. It was a sign—having Michelle contact him now. A sign that Gabi was above his worth and didn’t need to be dragged into his crap.

  “I wish, angel.” He smiled, hoping to curb her intuition until he left. “I’m going to get dressed, then step out for a while. I’ve got a few things I need to organize before tonight.” It was the truth. He needed to organize the gigantic mess called—his life.

  “Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “OK. When will you be back?”

  “I shouldn’t be too long.” He clutched the door handle, hating himself for hiding things from her. “When you’re ready, send me a message, and I’ll come get you.”

  “No worries.” She nodded slowly. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”

  He turned to leave the room, needing to shield his face from her gaze. “Yeah. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  A knife sliced through his chest, knowing he just lied to the woman he loved. Everything wouldn’t be fine. In fact, his mind kept chanting that this was the beginning of the end.

  Blake sat on a lounge chair in the far corner of the empty VIP room on the third floor of the hotel, staring blankly at Michelle’s phone number on his cell screen. He’d been doing the same thing for the last fifteen minutes, unable to connect the call.

 
; At the moment, he could convince himself that things would work out. He could give her whatever money she needed—he’d never had an attachment to the stuff anyway—and in return he would demand to have every image of him she possessed. Easy enough, right?

  A middle-aged couple walked into his periphery, taking a seat by the windows. Shit. He bowed his head and sunk further into his chair. He was running out of time. The last forty-five minutes hadn’t been mentally productive. There’d been a shitload of wallowing in self-loathing while he fought the basic instinct to run and hide. Now he had no choice. He had to do this.

  With a deep breath he connected the call and tried to ignore the way his chest tightened with each ring.

  “Blake?” Michelle’s voice was rough, from sleep or drugs he didn’t know and didn’t care.

  “How much do you want?” He didn’t have the stomach for pleasantries.

  “It’s not just about the money—”

  “How much, Michelle?”

  “F-forty grand.” Her tone held a hint of remorse that he chose to ignore.

  “Done.” Forty thousand dollars wouldn’t hurt his bank account. If that was what it took to rid him of the past, he would hand it over without reluctance. “I want all the photos. Everything you have on me. I don’t care what it is, I want it. CD’s, clothes, everything. Once I pay you the money, that’s it Michelle. I want you out of my life.”

  She cleared her throat. “The money isn’t all I need, Blake.”

  He clenched his teeth. He’d been on a roll, making demands and growing confident while she remained quiet. “What else?”

  “I need…I need to pull my life together. I need you to help me.”

  “How the fuck do I do that?” He pushed to his feet and ignored the stares from staff and entering guests. He was about to lose his shit. His shoes were too tight, the formal suit and tie weighing him down, choking him, making him yank at the collar.

  “I want to get my career back on track so I can look after myself in the future. I need to be in the public eye so producers will be willing to hire me again.”

  “No.” He didn’t need to hear anymore. The direction of the conversation was becoming too dangerous.

  “That’s the deal, Blake—the money as well as your help. You’d only need to pretend we were dating for a little while. A few months max, just until people start taking notice of me again.”

  No. Hell-to-the-fucking-no. “I can’t do it.” There was no way.

  “Then I have no choice but to sell the photos. The gossip magazines will give me what I need. Both money and a temporary spotlight.”

  Blake clenched the phone, squeezing so hard his knuckles hurt. “Don’t do this to me, Michelle. I’ve got a good thing going here. My life’s on track.” After you helped me fuck it up. “I can’t help you like that. I’ll give you more money. Eighty grand, a hundred. I don’t care. Just don’t blackball me with having to be around you again. I can’t do it.”

  She gave a derisive laugh. “You can’t be around me? As if you didn’t enjoy yourself when we were? I didn’t force you to do anything, Blake. In fact, I seem to remember you being more than eager to please me back then.”

  “Things change,” he grated, raking his fingers through his hair.

  “Well things are going to go back to the way they were. For the sake of the public, anyway. You’ll take me to social events and help me build a new name for myself. Once I’m back on my feet, you can have your stupid photos.”

  This was worse than money. Worse than having his bank accounts wiped clean. This would hurt Gabi, and the thought of doing that made a little piece of his soul die. “I can’t do it,” he whispered to himself.

  This couldn’t be happening. He’d been so close to heaven. His love for Gabi had cemented itself in his soul. She mentioned moving to the US to be with him, which was more than he deserved, yet he’d been excited. Now all of his hopes for the future were crumpling. His life was nose-diving with no way to pull up.

  “Fine. Good luck with the backlash—”

  “Wait!” What choice did he have? Maybe, he could make a few calls and get her a job before he finished the Australian tour. Then he wouldn’t have to see her at all. Yes. That’s what he could do. He’d call in some favors. Make sure she had an acting position, then things would be over and done with. For good.

  “I’ll help you get a job, Michelle, and I’ll give you the money. But you’ll have to wait until I get back in the US and speak to an attorney. I won’t let you blackmail me again after this.”

  His phone released a muted beep, announcing an incoming message. Gabi must be looking for him.

  “Whatever. Just be aware that I know when your tour finishes, and I expect to see you a few days later. I need that money.”

  Yeah. He bet she did.

  “And I expect you to stop hounding me until then,” he snarled. “No more calling or messaging. Leave me the fuck alone until I get back to New York.”

  “Deal.”

  His chest hollowed at the word. Caving in under her threats only endeavored to increase his self-loathing. He was so weak it made bile rise in his throat. Without a goodbye, he ended the call and strode from the VIP lounge.

  Now he had to figure out how he was going to live with himself once he told another lie to the woman he loved.

  ***

  Gabi touched up her eye shadow and ran her hands down the cream material of her dress to stop herself from hovering over her phone. Blake had been gone for almost an hour, without a word. He hadn’t even replied to her text message.

  A knock sounded at the door and her stomach flipped, hoping it was him. She padded across the tile in bare feet, making it half way down the hall before she realized he had his own key and didn’t need to knock. Curious, she peered through the peep hole to find Mason, Sean and Ryan.

  Where was Blake?

  She opened the door and tried not to ogle. They were gorgeous. All immaculately dressed in black suit and tie, their hair done and faces clean shaven. Even Ryan.

  “Hawt dayum, woman. You’re smokin’.” Mason jerked back in shock. “How the hell did you end up with Blake instead of me?”

  She smiled and raised her brows. “Because Blake has a subtle way of complimenting a woman that makes her feel beautiful. Whereas your approach leaves a skanky aftertaste.”

  Mason’s eyes gleamed with laughter and Sean sniggered, resting his shoulder against the wall beside the door.

  “You look stunning, Gabi.” Ryan inclined his head with a soft smile. “Are you guys good to go? The others are downstairs making sure the limo’s ready.”

  “Ah.” Gabi swallowed down the anxiety that started to bubble. “I thought Blake would be with you. He left about an hour ago and said he had things to organize.”

  The men frowned and glanced at one another.

  “I sent him a message over five minutes ago, but he hasn’t replied to that either,” she added.

  Sean pushed from the wall and grabbed his cell out of his pants pocket. “I’ll call him.”

  “You might want to get your shoes,” Ryan spoke softly. “We’re going to be late if we don’t find him soon.”

  She nodded and let Mason hold the door open as she rushed to the bedroom. She grabbed her purse and her cobalt-blue high-heels by the ankle strap and strode back to sit on the couch.

  “He’s not answering,” Sean mumbled. “What are we gonna do?”

  The ding of the hotel elevator echoed into the suite. Gabi tilted her head to listen as she reached for her purse and stood.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Mason barked.

  “Bangin’ your mom,” Blake replied.

  Gabi let out a relieved breath and walked from the living room toward the front door. She entered the tile hallway, her heels clicking with each step as Blake strode into the suite and came to an abrupt halt.

  He took her breath away.

  He was transformed, all his bad-assness covered under the formal attire, ye
t nothing could hide the hungry gleam in his eyes. The suits made the other men look suave and confident. With Blake it was the opposite. He owned the outfit, working it with easy sophistication.

  The mere sight dried her mouth. He blinked at her, his gaze roaming from the strappy blue high-heels, over her dress, to her face and all the way back down again.

  “Wow.” He stepped forward, his eyes wide with admiration. “Just… Wow.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. “You’re stunning.”

  “You’re looking mighty dapper yourself.” And his scent was divine, taunting her to lick the hollow at the base of his neck.

  He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, then pulled back to run a finger along the top of her bodice, rustling the charms on her necklace. “You’re dressed in white.”

  “Cream,” she clarified and narrowed her gaze on his face. He seemed different, and it had nothing to do with what he wore. His skin was pale, his eyes skittish, and his jaw tense.

  “You look like…” He glanced down at his suit. “We look like…” He shook his head in dismissal.

  “We’ve gotta go, buddy,” Ryan spoke from the door.

  Blake kept staring at her. “Just give us a minute. We’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  His lips thinned into a tight line, the seriousness in his expression making her heart stutter.

  “I know you’re quick, Emo,” Mason called down the hall, “But we still don’t have time for your thirty second marathon. We’re gonna be late.”

  Gabi pressed her lips together, struggling not to smile.

  “Fine, pretty-boy, go get the elevator and we’ll be there in a sec,” Blake muttered.

  He pulled her down to the couch so they sat side by side. Their fingers entwined, their thighs touched while the happiness faded from his features.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He peered over his shoulder and waited for the suite door to click shut. “I need you to trust me.”

  Her chest filled with butterflies, their movements pounding like falcons’ wings in her lungs. There was nothing playful about his statement. Something had happened. Something important. “About what?”