The elevator arrived, and she stomped inside and hit the button for her floor.
Dalton had been about to come closer, maybe about to kiss her, and the flurry of excitement had left her knees trembling. Then she’d ruined it. Why?
Because her career was her focus and she couldn’t afford to get distracted. They were so close; she didn’t have time for a romance.
And she couldn’t have one anyway.
The Billboard Music Awards were in two months, and though Jilted Storm wasn’t up for an award, Sebastian planned for Kynley to make a splash. Which meant arriving on the red carpet, probably wearing something skimpy and on the arm of, hopefully, a big, big star. Sebastian had bandied around names that included movie stars, rock stars, YouTube stars, and reality TV stars, and he was still working with various agents and publicists to find the sweetest deal. All their plans would be ruined if word got out she was involved with a member of her own band.
It had all seemed so simple when Sebastian had presented the plan. Kynley didn’t have a boyfriend, wasn’t interested in anyone, so why not find a date for the BMAs who would help her grab the headlines?
But she’d never felt this way before. Standing eye-locked with Dalton, she’d wanted more than anything to close the gap between them and be in his arms. It was obvious he’d wanted it too.
The elevator doors opened to the sight of Sebastian, standing in the hall talking to Carl. He had his arms folded across his chest. “Where have you been?”
“Nowhere,” she said, flicking her braid over her shoulder and trying to keep her tone casual.
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and he glanced toward the elevator, as if he could see some kind of heat trail showing where she’d come from. “He’s only doing one show,” he snapped.
“I know. We were going over his look.”
Sebastian’s eyebrow quirked. “Stick to the plan,” he said.
He was right. With a quick nod, Kynley continued down the hall. There was a plan, carefully laid long before Dalton Parker had come onto the scene, and she wasn’t about to sacrifice it all now just because he made her heart pound and her knees go weak. This new breed of butterfly, the romance kind, would have to wait. She would be a star.
Chapter Ten
Dalton plugged his guitar into the amp and adjusted the volume. All around him, the band members were testing their equipment and making minute adjustments while the sound engineers ran wires and set microphones. They were in a rented rehearsal space not far from the theater, a small room crowded with instruments and a few pieces of furniture. Dalton had ridden over with Marco and the rest of the band, and now he tried to concentrate on his setup and not throw too many glances at the single microphone set on the stand in the middle, where Kynley should be. She hadn’t arrived yet.
They stood in roughly the same formation they would be onstage—Kynley at the front, Mick in the back. Trevor and Dalton were on stage right and Corey had stage left to himself. Or, he would have stage left to himself. Right now all he had was three square feet.
Dalton looked around and couldn’t suppress a grin. “Man, I’ve missed this.”
Mick returned his smile. “Kynley said you’re doing a desk job now?” he asked, and when Dalton nodded, he rolled his eyes. “Dude. That must suck.”
“You have no idea,” Dalton said fervently. Now that he was here, immersed in this world again, he realized how much he’d missed it. How would he ever go back? He hadn’t let himself dream to the point where he joined Jilted Storm as a full-time member, but the possibility lingered in the back of his mind, like a half realized shadow.
“Here’s your teleprompter,” one of the techs said as he carried a boxy screen into the room. He set it on the floor slightly to Dalton’s right and began running wires. “We’ll have a bigger screen for you at the show, but this should work for now.”
“Awesome, thanks,” Dalton replied. He hoped not to have to rely on the teleprompter too much, but had to admit, he was grateful to have it.
The door opened and Sebastian came in, followed closely by Kynley. Her eyes darted around the room and landed on Dalton. She gave him a quick smile before Sebastian hurried her into the glass walled booth with the sound engineers and shut the door firmly behind them.
It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped twenty degrees.
“Figures,” Corey said quietly, throwing a dark look at the sound booth. Their backs were turned to the studio, but obviously Sebastian was talking and Kynley was agreeing with whatever he was saying. Her braid bobbed slightly as she nodded along.
When they came back into the studio, Sebastian settled into a chair and pulled out his phone while Kynley plucked her microphone from its stand. After a few minutes of sound checks, she turned to Dalton. “Ready?”
He nodded. She still wore her black leggings with the plaid shirt, and he realized he’d have a perfect view of her for most of the performance. He had another rush of gratitude for the teleprompter. If anything would wreck his concentration, it’d be Kynley.
Mick started pounding out the rhythm for “Intended Consequences,” and Dalton forced his attention to his guitar.
As the rehearsal progressed, Dalton found he could keep up and didn’t need the prompter as much as he’d feared. It was surreal to be playing this music, in sync with these guys and anchored by Kynley’s soaring vocals. The girl could sing, there was no question about her talent.
When they broke for lunch, Gabbi appeared to refresh Kynley’s hair and makeup, then she took several “impromptu” selfies to post on social media, all under the watchful eye of Sebastian. Then it was back to the rehearsal room to finish up the final third of the show. By the time they ended, Dalton’s fingers were sore and his ears were ringing—but he was flying high.
He was flying high, but he couldn’t say the same for everyone else. The surly overtones coming from Trevor had remained steady through most of the rehearsal, and when it ended, the guys hurried to pack up, obviously impatient to get away.
“What’s everyone doing tonight?” Dalton said into the quietness, broken only by the sounds of the gear being put away. “Anyone want to go get dinner?”
A beat of silence. The band members looked at him, then at one another. Then Mick shook his head. “No thanks. I’m going to find a movie.”
Trevor mumbled something that sounded like “me too,” but Dalton couldn’t quite understand him, even though they were standing less than ten feet away. After a few more strained minutes, the three musicians left.
Kynley sighed. “Sorry. They’re not always like that.”
“Is it me?”
She shook her head. “It’s just the stress. Having Leeson quit so suddenly and then—”
“You were flat during the second verse of ‘Belladonna,’” Sebastian said, coming back into the room from the sound booth. “Let’s go over it now.” He moved toward the piano in the corner, obviously expecting her to follow.
But Kynley knit her brow. “I wasn’t flat.”
Sebastian turned to face her. “Yes, you were.”
They locked eyes in a silent battle of wills until Kynley sighed. “Okay, let’s go over it again.”
Sebastian’s lip curled into a tiny smile of triumph as he turned to Dalton. “There’s no need to wait. Carl’s outside and can take you back to the hotel, or wherever you’d like to go.”
Disappointment and anger stabbed his gut. He gave Kynley a questioning look, wanting her to ask him to stay. But when she remained silent, he forced a smile. “Okay. See you tomorrow, then.” Without waiting for an answer, he picked up his guitar case and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Kynley got onto the elevator and punched a button, trying to ignore Marco’s quizzical look. Sebastian had stayed behind at the studio and Marco was supposed to see her safely to her suite, but that wasn’t the button she’d pushed. They stood in silence until Kynley couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m only going to talk
to him,” she blurted. She couldn’t stop thinking about Dalton, couldn’t erase the hurt look in his eyes at the studio.
Marco shrugged. “It’s none of my business.”
“Except you’ll tell Sebastian,” she pointed out.
Marco turned his massive shoulders to gaze down at her. The look in his dark eyes was somewhere between affection and … pity?
“I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to,” he said quietly.
“Okay, well … thanks.” Kynley nodded a bit grudgingly. She’d never been totally comfortable around her security guards. They’d been hired by Sebastian, and sometimes it was hard to tell if they were there to guard her safety or to spy on her for him. Not that she ever did anything that required spying, unless the few times she’d talked them into stopping at In-N-Out when she was supposed to be on a veggie-only diet counted. But if they had ratted her out to Sebastian those times, he hadn’t mentioned it.
The doors opened on Dalton’s floor. Marco gave her a smile and stayed in the elevator, leaving her on her own. As she walked down the hall to Dalton’s room, her heartbeat picked up. What if he was still mad? What if she’d blown her chance with him? But that would be a good thing, right? She couldn’t get involved with anyone right now.
She squared her shoulders and tapped lightly on his door. There was no answer; maybe he was out. What if he’d gone to dinner alone and was meeting pretty girls? Jealousy squirmed in her chest.
Then the lock clicked and Dalton pulled the door open. His hair stood on end and he squinted at her a little owlishly.
“Were you asleep?” Kynley asked.
“No.” He ran one hand over the scruff on his jaw and stepped back to open the door wider. “Come in.”
“You’re a liar, you were asleep,” Kynley said accusingly as she entered the room. Dalton wore a baggy T-shirt with a pair of knit shorts and was barefoot. The bed was rumpled and the TV was on, but muted.
Dalton gave her a sheepish grin. “Maybe a little bit.” He waved one hand toward the TV, where an infomercial played. “Though I was also seriously considering buying the SteamCooker Pro. You may have just saved me from myself.”
She laughed, but it came out a bit thin and strained.
Dalton gave her a searching look, then picked up the remote from the bed and killed the TV. “What’s up?”
She bit her lip. “I wanted to apologize for earlier today. You know … when you asked about dinner.”
He leaned back against the low dresser that held the TV and crossed his arms. “Okay. Thanks.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to go,” she rushed ahead. “But … now that we’re here there’s a lot to do and …”
“And you can’t really go running off with me alone,” he finished for her.
“Yeah.” She gave a deep sigh and wrapped a strand of hair that had come loose from her braid around her finger.
Dalton hesitated, as if trying to gauge her mood. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“The band seems really fractured. Is that normal?”
She twisted her hair tighter. “I know. And no. They … we weren’t always like that. We used to be more of a team.” They’d once been able to practically read one another’s thoughts, especially onstage, where they had seemed to work as one entity, monitoring body language and covering for each other seamlessly if someone messed up.
“What’s made the difference?”
“Leeson leaving us hanging has thrown everyone off. It’s like losing a bit of your family, you know?”
He nodded, giving her a measured look. “Maybe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They hate Sebastian.”
“It always comes back to this!” Kynley burst out. “I’m so tired of always feeling like it’s me against them. Sebastian is going to help us; why can’t they see that?”
“Are you sure he’s offering the kind of help they want?” Dalton asked.
She hunched her shoulders. “They agreed to it. I didn’t go out and hire him on my own.” But she was the one pushing for bigger things. “It’s going to help them too,” she said defensively.
“Not if you don’t stay together. You’ve already lost Leeson, and from the looks of it the others aren’t far behind.”
Her heart sank; he was right. “What do I do?”
Dalton let out a sigh. “I’m no expert, but I noticed how quickly you split off after rehearsal today. Do you ever do anything together that’s not music related?”
She caught the glint in his eyes and couldn’t help smiling. “What do you have in mind?”
Chapter Eleven
A bevy of paintballs smashed into the wood with squishy, spattering noises and Kynley squealed, ducking behind the short wall of two-by-fours. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. That was close.
“You still alive, Kynley?” Trevor called to her over the pop of the paintball guns and the shrieks from other players.
Quickly she assessed her black jumpsuit and thick neoprene chest protector. No paint. “Yep,” she hollered back.
A shrill scream split the air and Gabbi came charging toward her. Kynley’s heart raced and she lifted her paintball gun before remembering Gabbi was on her team. Feeling a bit sheepish, she lowered the weapon.
“Hey! No friendly fire. You almost murdered me!” Gabbi accused as she dropped breathlessly to Kynley’s side.
“Just for a minute,” Kynley admitted. “No offense.”
Gabbi risked a quick peek around the wall. “Are we winning or losing?”
“No idea,” Kynley replied. Her team consisted of Gabbi, Trevor, Carl, the guitar tech, James, and Blaine, one of the sound techs, while Dalton’s team had Mick, Corey, Marco, and stage technicians Amanda and Stuart. Sebastian had not been invited and Kynley could feel the tension draining away from the group, even with paintballs zinging over their heads.
They’d been assigned to teams randomly by the long-haired teenager who handed out the gear, and at first, Kynley had been disappointed not to be on Dalton’s team. But she’d quickly changed her mind; it was more fun to shoot at him.
He was still in the game, as far as she knew. At least he hadn’t joined the others who had been shot on the sidelines yet. But she couldn’t see him through the maze of obstacles and barricades all around the room.
She waited a minute to catch her breath, then did a quick check of her ammo. The tank was more than halfway full of paintballs. Excellent.
“Okay, I’m going for it,” she told Gabbi, then jumped from behind the two-by-fours, sprinting for the shelter of an inflatable column. Paintballs burst all around her, but once again she made it to safety. She panted heavily, grinning as she heard the others laughing.
Finally, it was three to two. Kynley, Gabbi, and Carl hunkered behind stacks of paint splattered tires, while on the other side, Dalton and Mick were hiding behind an inflatable wedge-shaped barricade. Their barricade stood on a dais with slanting sides, and though they couldn’t get a clear shot, they had the advantage of a higher vantage point.
“It’s over,” Kynley called, going for bravado. “Put down your weapons and surrender, and we may let you live.”
Silence, followed by a hastily muttered conversation. “Or, how about you surrender your weapons and we’ll let you live?” Dalton called back pleasantly. “We have the high ground.”
Kynley grinned. “Face it, you’re outnumbered and you’re running low on ammo. There’s no shame in losing … except maybe there is.” She and Gabbi collapsed into a fit of giggles.
“Totally overconfident.” Dalton’s voice came over the sound of their laughter. “It’ll be your downfall.”
Carl poked his head around the barrier and drew back quickly as a paintball zoomed past, splattering on the wall behind them.
“That was a warning shot,” Mick called.
“Okay, we need to come up with a plan,” Kynley whispered to the other two.
Kynley didn’t think Dalton would be so distracted by Gabbi that he’d forget about her and Carl, but she nodded anyway. They were helpless behind the tires.
But before Gabbi could become a martyr for the cause, a shout came from the other side of the room.
“FOR NARNIA!”
As one, Dalton and Mick rounded the corner of their barricade, running down the slope and toward the tires as fast as they could go, shooting paintballs all the way.
“Get them! Get them!” Gabbi screamed.
They opened fire. The guns went off like popcorn as paintballs plastered the guys, blooming bright spots of color against their black safety gear. Kynley squinted through her sights and fired several quick rounds directly at Dalton’s chest.
He and Mick fell as a team, shouting heroically as they threw themselves facedown onto the padded floor of the arena. For a moment, there was total silence.
“For Narnia,” Dalton said weakly, raising one fist over his head and everyone burst out laughing.
“Guns down,” the ref said over the loudspeaker, and everyone laid their paintball guns on the floor and took off their helmets. Excited chatter broke out as they started going over the battle, and Kynley’s heart leaped. She hadn’t heard everyone laugh like that together in a long time.
Dalton was still face down on the floor. Kynley made her way to his side over the slippery, paint-splattered floor and prodded him in the ribs with the toe of her Nike. “For Narnia? Really?”
He rolled over. “Every noble cause needs a good battle cry,” he said with dignity, though the effect was somewhat marred by the Pepto colored paint covering his chest.
The Glamorous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance Page 8
