The Glamorous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance

by Jeanette Lewis

  “Looks like your team is buying lunch, tough guy,” Kynley said with a giggle.

  “Anytime.” He got to his knees with a groan and pulled off his helmet. “Though I think I might need to order something stronger than soda to ease the sting of defeat.”

  “You’re the one who decided to make a heroic charge,” Kynley pointed out. “We could have gone on longer, and who knows? You might have won.” She planted one hand on her hip and gave him a saucy grin. “But probably not.”

  Dalton looked up at her and she barely had time to catch the gleam in his eyes before he lunged, grasping her around the knees and slinging her over his shoulder as easily as if she’d been a toddler.

  “Put me down!” she squealed, beating lightly on his back with her fists and only vaguely aware that the rest of the team had paused in the doorway to watch.

  Dalton stood up, his arm still clamped firmly around Kynley’s knees, and moved away from the smear of paint he’d left on the floor. Once he had his footing, he began spinning in quick circles. “Is someone saying something?” he teased. “I swore I heard something.” He spun again. “Huh. My hearing must be going.”

  “You big dork!” Kynley yelled. “Put me down, I’m getting dizzy!”

  With a chuckle, Dalton bent his knees and set her down. She stumbled, her head still spinning.

  “Woops, careful there,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her.

  Their eyes met and the world shrank until it was just the two of them. Kynley caught her breath, and her eyes darted to the curve of his lips and then back up to meet his gaze. Dalton’s brown eyes were as rich as dark chocolate, full of mischief and something else … something deeper. His gaze seemed to reach inside her to pluck gently at the stings of her soul. His breath was warm on her face, smelling faintly of wintergreen.

  “Hello? Come back to earth, you two,” Mick’s voice cut through her thoughts.

  Dalton drew his arm from around her waist, leaving a hollow feeling, like his arm should always be there and its absence was something to mourn.

  “Sorry.” Dalton flashed the team a grin. “I got caught up in the thrill of victory.”

  They all knew his definition of “victory” had nothing to do with paintball at the moment.

  “Uh, in case you didn’t notice, your team lost,” Gabbi retorted, a smirk hovering at the corner of her mouth. “And now you owe us lunch.”

  Dalton nodded, “You’re right. Lunch it is.” His eyes sought Kynley’s again. “And a cherry Coke,” he said softly.

  “Yes, and a cherry Coke,” she breathed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dalton stood backstage, listening to the stamping of thousands of pairs of feet. The opening act had finished a few moments earlier and his ears were still ringing. The technical crews were changing out the stage, moving the instruments for the opener off and Jilted Storm’s instruments on. A curtain had been hung over the Jilted Storm banner along the back wall of the stage, and as the crew unveiled the logo, an enormous cheer went up from the crowd.

  Dalton flexed his fingers and took a few deep breaths.

  “You all right?” Trevor asked from behind him.

  “Yep.” Dalton nodded.

  Trevor thumped him on the back before disappearing into the backstage darkness.

  Gabbi had definitely done her job well. At the band meeting in the green room, his new look had drawn nods of approval and several overdone wolf-whistles from the guys. She’d trimmed his whiskers to give him a bit of a scruff and spiked his hair, then spent an hour drawing a blocky pattern on his forearm with a Sharpie to give him “a bit of an edge.” When combined with the black T-shirt, ripped jeans, and the combat boots, he looked every bit a rocker.

  Adrenaline surged through him, bringing with it a small bit of terror, but mostly excitement. The crowd was pumped and Dalton’s nerves were on fire. He couldn’t wait to get out there.

  He looked across the stage toward the other side, where Kynley would make her entrance, but couldn’t see her in the darkness. Was she as keyed up as he was? She’d seemed calm in the green room, sitting quietly while Gabbi put the finishing touches on her makeup. She looked fantastic in her black tank top, white ruffled skirt, and turquoise boots. He’d been hoping to find a moment for a quick word alone with her, but with the chaos backstage and Sebastian dogging her every step, there hadn’t been time.

  The lights went down and the crowd cheered even louder. In the dimness, the band members took their places. As Dalton walked onstage, the noise from the audience seemed like a thing unto itself, washing over him. He adjusted his earpieces and the noise from the crowd dulled a little.

  Trevor struck a chord, and the screaming got louder. As Trevor played the opening solo, Dalton found his finger positions and took a deep breath, letting the energy of the crowd flow through him. When the cue came, he dove in with everything he had.

  The lights blazed and Kynley ran onstage. The noise from the audience was like a wall, pushing against the band, daring them to live up to the crowd’s expectations.

  Kynley grabbed the mic and they crashed into “Intended Consequences,” the beat fast and loud, pulsating through the building. Dalton felt himself relax. The teleprompter showed the music, but his practice had paid off and the notes came easily. This was what he’d dreamed about all those years ago. What he’d wished for day after day as he sat in his office at his dad’s company. It felt like a different lifetime.

  “Thank you, Denver!” Kynley shouted after they’d finished the first song. “Tonight we have a special guest with us. Please welcome Dalton Parker!” The spotlight swooped over as she pointed at him and he raised one hand in acknowledgement.

  The rest of the concert was a blur of noise, lights, music, and Kynley’s brilliance. She was the brightest spot on the stage, no matter what else was happening. There were no costume changes, no dancers, no confetti raining on the audience—it was just the five of them, onstage with their instruments and Kynley’s incredible voice. Clear and resonant and capable of delivering a soul-jarring scream, she was raw and real and one hundred percent invested in the show. Gabbi had done her hair in long, loose curls, pulled back from her face, but the curls fell out and her hair quickly became tangled as she performed, singing and head-banging right along with the rest of them.

  Dalton looked out over the crowd, a sea of hands and arms upraised and pounding in time with the beat. They screamed, sang along with Kynley, and erupted into cheers when they heard the intros to their favorites.

  “Doing okay?” Kynley asked, coming over during one of Mick’s drum solos to get a swig of water. She kept her back to the audience as she took a long drink, concern evident in her eyes.

  “I’m good.” He nodded with a grin. “You’re fantastic.”

  She set the bottle down and sent him a wink before turning to start into the next song.

  The crowd cheered, screamed, sang, and danced along to the music. Their stamping feet sent vibrations throughout the building, making it shake and pulse. Kynley shot a look at Dalton. He appeared to be having the time of his life. She’d been a little worried he wouldn’t get the music in time, but there had only been a few minor mistakes, easily covered by the rest of the band. The performance, by all measurements, was a success.

  “Thank you, Denver! We love you!” She threw both arms over her head as the lights swooped, then dimmed. The crowd went crazy. When the lights came back up, the rest of the band joined her at the front of the stage to wave and Mick threw his drumsticks to a couple of teenagers.

  They made their way as a group into the wings as the noise died down and the house lights came on. Kynley pulled out her earpieces; she felt giddy. The thrill of a good show never left—the deep satisfaction that came with leaving everything out there, giving it all she could.

  Mick grabbed Dalton in a headlock. “Dude, nice job!”

  “Thanks.” Dalton beamed. Sweat shone on his forehead and he was clearly exhausted, but a
lso lit from within by the same kind of energy she always felt after a good show. His eyes sought hers, burning with the unasked question, and she smiled.

  “Awesome,” she said.

  Relief met the happiness in his smile, and he nodded.

  “Great show.” Sebastian handed her a bottle of coconut water and watched as she took a long drink. The coconut water would absorb faster than regular water and help keep her vocal cords hydrated. “The front of house said they sold out most of the merchandise.”

  Kynley nodded. Before the night was over, Sebastian would meet with the house manager to spend hours counting money, totaling receipts, and figuring out profit margins. The thought of it made her tired.

  She glanced at Dalton, who had collapsed into the chair next to her.

  “Did your earpieces work okay?” Hers had been custom made and fitted, but of course they hadn’t had time to make a pair specifically for Dalton, so he’d used a standard model.

  “A bit loud, but nothing major.”

  “We have time now to get some customs made for you, so next time it should be a lot better,” she said without thinking.

  The statement hung in the air between them. Would there be a next time? If she had anything to say about it, there would. But it wasn’t solely her decision. Did he even want there to be a next time? Or had this been more than he’d bargained for? She knew now was not the time to ask. They were all riding the high, not exactly the best time to make rational decisions.

  “See you in a few minutes, okay?” She stood and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before retreating to the dressing room to change clothes and have Gabbi fix her hair and makeup. As tired as they were, there was still the meet and greet backstage with VIPs and fans who had won radio and online contests.

  Two hours later, Kynley’s cheeks ached from smiling and her head throbbed. The reception crowd had thinned, but there were still people to see and hands to shake.

  “Are you about ready to go?” Dalton appeared at her side.

  “I thought you’d already left,” she said in surprise. She’d lost track of him and assumed he’d gone back to the hotel. Since he wasn’t officially part of the band, he wasn’t obligated to do the after-concert stuff.

  He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and the brush of his fingertips sent her skin tingling. “Not without you,” he said softly.

  Mick and Corey were by the refreshment table and seemed determined to finish off as much of the champagne as possible before they called it a night. Trevor was nowhere to be seen; he’d probably already bailed.

  Sebastian stood across the room, looking out of place in his gray suit amid the sea of jeans and T-shirts. He was deep in conversation with two women and a man. Kynley had been introduced and knew they were industry people, but had forgotten their names.

  A wave of exhaustion overtook her. “Let’s go.” Kynley turned to Dalton. She pulled out her phone and texted Sebastian.

  -Going back to the hotel. See you tomorrow.

  He wouldn’t like it, but she didn’t really care.

  Marco escorted them to the stage door, and after a brief conversation with the security staff, he gave them the all clear and a big umbrella. The night had turned cold and drizzly, but it hadn’t deterred the line of fans who were waiting for her. They sent up a cheer and she felt some of her energy returning, as it always did when she was face-to-face with fans. Their excitement and enthusiasm gave her a shot of adrenaline, and she couldn’t help trying to match their energy as she made her way down the line.

  “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m talking to you. We drove ten hours to get here,” a breathless young woman told her, thrusting a slightly soggy photograph of the band at her to autograph.

  Kynley smiled and scribbled her name on the picture. “I’m so glad you came. Did you enjoy the show?”

  The woman nodded. “Totally!”

  Kynley handed the photo back and leaned in so the woman could take a selfie with her.

  “Thank you so much! My friends are going to be so jealous.” Her eyes moved to Dalton, who stood nearby holding the umbrella over Kynley’s head. “Are you the guitar player?”

  “One of them,” Dalton said. “But I’m new, so I’m not on your picture.”

  “Will you sign it anyway?” Her eyes lit up.

  “Go ahead,” Kynley said, reaching for the umbrella to free up his hands.

  Dalton signed the photo and they moved on down the line. Some of the fans wanted Dalton’s signature or his picture, but most were there for Kynley. She shot him a guilty glance, but he merely smiled and tightened his grip on the umbrella, patiently waiting for her to finish.

  Finally, they reached the end of the line and Kynley waved goodbye as she climbed into the back of the Escalade. Dalton got in beside her and she slumped against him, letting herself totally relax for the first time all day. His shoulder was firm under her cheek and his shirt smelled like laundry soap and his woodsy cologne. Marco pulled away from the building and Kynley’s eyelids drifted closed. It seemed so natural she should fall asleep like this, her head nestled against Dalton’s shoulder.

  “You were on fire,” he said quietly into the darkness.

  “You too. Great job tonight.”

  “I messed up a little bit,” he confessed.

  She nudged him lightly. “We all messed up a little bit. No big deal.”

  He shifted his weight, drawing his arm gently from under her cheek to wrap it around her shoulders and pull her tightly against him. With a small, contented sigh, she settled in closer, pressing her forehead against the warm skin on his neck. A comforting heat spread through her body and she drifted off to sleep.

  Gradually, she became aware again, struggling against the pull of sleep and the feeling that something was different. They were in the car and she was still snuggled into the crook of Dalton’s arm, but the sounds of the road and the hum of the engine were gone.

  Kynley opened her eyes. They were in a parking garage. The orange light filtered dimly through the heavily tinted windows, giving her just enough light to see the driver’s seat was empty.

  “Where’s Marco?” she asked groggily.

  “I sent him inside,” Dalton said.

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after three.”

  Kynley sat up. “Seriously?” They’d left the theater just before one. “You didn’t have to stay out here so long; why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “’Cause then I wouldn’t get to sit here and hold you,” Dalton said softly.

  The dim light threw shadows across the planes of his face, highlighting his nose and jaw. She reached out and ran her fingertips lightly down the side of his cheek and he leaned into her touch, adding the slightest bit of pressure. His skin was warm and slightly prickly from the scruffy whiskers.

  “Kynley,” Dalton whispered. His arm tightened around her shoulders, drawing her even closer, while his other hand came up to cup her chin. Her limbs turned to liquid, slow and heavy, like honey, and her stomach swooped crazily as he bent and touched his lips to hers, as soft as a whisper, bringing the sharp, clean scent of wintergreen on his breath.

  She gave an involuntary little gasp and he hesitated, drawing back ever so slightly.

  “No, don’t,” she murmured, already craving his kiss again.

  “Don’t what?” he whispered, his breath warm on her face. “Don’t kiss you?”

  “Don’t stop,” she managed. Then her eyes slid closed as his lips found hers again, harder this time and more insistent. Her nails scraped lightly along the whiskers at his jaw as she moved her fingers to the back of his head and buried them in his hair. He groaned and she tasted champagne on his tongue as he deepened the kiss, crushing her against him.

  It was lightness and sweetness mixed with a slow, spicy burn that started in her chest and picked up speed as it moved through her body, making her ache for more. The kiss turned into another, then another as they learned the textu
re and the shape or each other’s mouths.

  Too soon, Dalton pulled back, and she gave a small moan of protest as her arms dropped away from his neck, already missing the press of his body against hers. She opened her eyes and stared at him. They were both breathing heavily and his gaze seemed to burn in the dim light.

  “We’d better go in,” Dalton said, ducking his head to peer through the fogged-up window. “Marco’s going to think I’ve kidnapped you.”

  Her eyes focused on his lips, wishing they could stay but knowing he was right. Things had gone far enough. Reluctantly, she nodded.

  Later, alone in her suite, Kynley went to the window. The sun would be up soon. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but she felt jittery with energy and each time she thought of Dalton’s kisses, a fresh wave of excitement rippled through her. Underlying the crazy swoop of her hormones was a soft, steady feeling of peace. It had felt so right being in Dalton’s arms.

  But the BMAs were in two months and she was supposed to attend with the celebrity of Sebastian’s choosing. Not to mention the new video and everything else coming up.

  As the sun broke over the city, Kynley pressed her fingertips to her chest, in the hollow where her ribcage met. That space had always seemed so empty, but now it was filled with this new type of butterfly Dalton had awoken. How could she let it go?

  Chapter Thirteen

  After years of riding in cramped vans, the Jilted Storm tour bus had been the ultimate in luxury with a full kitchen, bunks hung with privacy curtains, and a lounge at the back complete with a cushy leather sectional, a big screen TV, and all the latest electronic equipment. The band would finish a show, pile onto the bus, and ride to the next city, hoping to get a little sleep or some additional practice in on the way.

  But now the band mostly traveled by air and stayed in hotels, so the bus became home to the drivers and technicians who formed the backbone of the show’s success. They’d already left for LA by the time Kynley got to Sebastian’s suite the next day. The band was scheduled to fly out later that afternoon on a private plane.