The Glamorous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance

by Jeanette Lewis

  He frowned. “Probably. But I might need the music.”

  “Use a teleprompter,” Mick said. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “What do we tell Sebastian?” Corey said.

  “We don’t tell him anything.” Mick shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s too late to cancel the party, so we’ll show up and schmooze like he wants, but we’ll play the other song and then we kill the video launch.”

  “He’s going to blow a fuse,” Corey warned.

  They all looked at one another uneasily. No one knew quite what Sebastian was capable of.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Gabbi finally said. She grinned. “Personally, I’d love to watch Sebastian blow up … and away.”

  Kynley started laughing, and soon the rest of them joined in. Their laughter was like a balm for her troubled soul. The band at least would be all right.

  Gabbi stood up, her mouth set. “Finally! Now break this up, Kynley needs to rest her voice.”

  Kynley spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around her dressing room, sipping herbal tea, and trying to relax. She attempted to nap on the sofa, but her eyes popped open at the slightest sound. In a way, the band’s decision had taken a huge weight off her shoulders, but into the void flowed something else.

  Heartache.

  Dalton had to be home by now; she could text or call him. But his words still stung, and what could she say that wouldn’t sound desperate and obvious? Maybe after tonight there would be time to sort it all out, but right now she had to focus on fixing her career.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kynley hitched her smile back onto her face. She’d been wearing it so long that it had become glued there, like the time her older sister had convinced her to try a homemade face mask made from flour and water. Not only hadn’t it cleaned their pores; it had dried to a thick, stiff mess; like her face was encased in concrete.

  Tonight felt the same way. She moved around the room at the Villanio with her frozen smile, making small talk with industry people. The room was packed with guests who were partaking freely of the open bar and the large tables of hors d’oeuvres scattered around.

  “I promised Sebastian we could get together and work out some preliminary contract details,” Mr. Ashland, a loud, bloated record executive, told her. He flashed a toothy grin, his white veneers gleaming in stark contrast to the wrinkled, overly tanned skin of his face. He pressed her hand between his big, fleshy palms, and she worked to keep her smile in place despite the moistness of his skin.

  “I hope we don’t disappoint tonight,” she said, meaning it more than he could ever know.

  Mr. Ashland chuckled, and an appreciative leer lit his features as glanced up and down her figure. “Trust me, my dear, you’d never disappoint.”

  She pulled her hand from his and murmured an excuse, escaping as fast as she could.

  Sebastian intercepted her before she’d gone five steps. “I hope you were nice to Ashland,” he said. “I think he’s poised to make one of the strongest offers.”

  Kynley suppressed a shudder. This would be the tradeoff. A recording contract in exchange for cozying up to billionaire executives at parties and pretending they didn’t have smelly breath and sweaty hands.

  “And I hate the outfit,” Sebastian said in a low voice. Instead of the very short, very tight dress of silver lace he’d selected, she wore a purple sequined top, a black skirt that reached mid-thigh, and her turquoise boots. Gabbi had styled her hair in a complicated set of braids that met high on the back of her head, leaving the loose ends to dangle halfway down her back.

  “I didn’t like the dress,” she said, deciding to go for honesty. “It made me uncomfortable and this is more my style.”

  He ground his teeth and gave her a steely glare, but just then, another industry bigwig clapped him on the shoulder and Sebastian turned into all smiles.

  Kynley sat quietly in the dressing room while Gabbi amped up her makeup with heavy eyeliner, false eyelashes, and smoky gray shadow. The tension in the room was different than the normal concert nerves.

  “It’ll be fine,” Gabbi said for the tenth time. “I’m so ready to get rid of Sebastian.”

  Kynley gave a tight little laugh. “I wish it would be that easy.”

  The makeup brush tickled as Gabbi brushed contouring powder over her cheeks. “You don’t think he’ll go quietly then?”

  “No way,” Kynley sighed. “I’m sure there’s a messy lawsuit in our future.”

  “Well, there’s nothing you can do about it now, so you may as well enjoy watching him implode,” Gabbi said. “I know I will,” she added.

  “What did the dancers say?” Kynley asked. There was no way she could get away from the party, so Mick and Gabbi had met privately with the dancers to tell them the change in plans.

  “They were okay,” Gabbi said. “They’re still getting paid, so what do they care?”

  “I wish I could be as unconcerned as you are,” Kynley admitted.

  Gabbi gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and left so Kynley could start her warm-up exercises. Her palms were clammy and her stomach twisted in knots. This was the kind of night you wished for a time machine so she could jump forward a few days and make sure everything had turned out all right.

  Half an hour later, she stood on the stage, looking into the sea of faces. Yesterday, these people had had the power to make or break her career. Now, if all went well, she and the guys would be free again.

  The room quieted as Kynley spoke into the microphone. “Thank you so much for being here tonight. We are honored and grateful for your support.” There was scattered applause, and she waited for it to die down before continuing. “I think sometimes, especially in this business, it’s easy to find yourself in an echo chamber, where everything gets distorted and something that seemed like a good idea really … isn’t. We were supposed to play our new single ‘Heart Is Breaking’ tonight for you. But we took a vote and decided that, as good as the song is, we are the wrong band for it.”

  The guests broke out into a babble of confused mutters, and Kynley’s eyes shot to Sebastian. He stood beside the champagne fountain, his whole body wound with tension, daggers flashing in his eyes.

  She took a deep breath. “Instead, we’re going to do a different song. It’s called ‘Light Me Up.’”

  That was Trevor’s cue to come forward to play it by her side, but there was a moment, a beat too long. Just long enough for her to panic. She turned to look for Trevor and her heart slammed when Dalton stepped onto the stage, clutching the L-5. She caught Mick’s self-satisfied smirk from the wings as Dalton came toward her, grinning broadly.

  “How did you …?” she whispered, but he gave a slight shake of his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

  There was nothing rehearsed for this song. No dancers, no costumes, not even special lighting. Just Kynley and Dalton, in the middle of the stage with the spots shining on them. Dalton struck the first chord and Kynley closed her eyes as he played the introduction—a simple cascade of notes, like a waterfall, flowing elegantly and simply from his fingertips.

  He paused, waiting for her, and for a split second she felt poised on the knife’s edge of expectation. There was silence in the room; the audience seemed to be holding its breath.

  Kynley opened her eyes and sang. She hadn’t performed “Light Me Up” in years, but the lyrics came leaping back to her as easily as a prayer. A whisper seemed to go through the audience, a small ripple, spreading from the front toward the back as the music washed over them.

  A deep calm came over Kynley, a sense of rightness, a feeling this was the direction she was meant to go. This was the seed that had started to grow all those years ago, when she stood on the fence singing to the cows. This was the spark of the dream, tended so carefully for so long, and then almost so carelessly snuffed out by the demands of Hollywood and the recording industry. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and she was not surprised to find
Sebastian was no longer by the champagne fountain. He was probably out in the hall calling his lawyer.

  She didn’t care. This gentle song and the man who stood beside her were the future.

  The song ended and the last notes hung in the air for a moment. The faces of the record executives were puzzled; they’d been expecting a much bigger show. Then someone started clapping, and more joined in until the room rang with applause. Not as rowdy as the fans at their concerts, but happy, approving.

  “Thank you,” she said into the mic, her voice choked with emotion. “I wrote that a while ago, but it’s only been in the last month or so I’ve started singing it again.” She turned to Dalton. “This is Dalton Parker,” she told the audience. “He’s …” Words failed as she gazed into his eyes.

  Then Dalton stepped forward, his arms swooping around her, and she felt the press of the guitar he still held clutched in his fist as he lifted her off the ground into a hug. The applause grew louder as she wrapped both arms around his neck, breathing in his familiar wintergreen scent, letting herself float in the magic of his embrace.

  “What are you doing here?” she said softly so only he could hear.

  “I made it to my layover in Salt Lake,” he whispered, “before I realized I loved you too much to leave. So I came back. I’m sorry for leaving at all; can you forgive me?”

  “Can you forgive me?” Kynley said. “You were right, about everything. I just refused to see it.”

  She pulled back slightly so she could see his face, and tears welled in her eyes. Tears of gratitude, of appreciation, and of love. She could hardly see as Trevor came forward to take Dalton’s guitar, and once his hands were free, he tightened his grip on her, holding her off the ground. The audience faded, the noise faded, and the spotlights faded until it was the two of them in the middle of forever.

  “I love you,” Dalton said softly. “I don’t care if I’m not in the band. All I want is to be with you.”

  She gazed into his eyes, reading the depth of his emotion, his sincerity. “I love you too,” she whispered.

  His head dipped and their lips met as the room erupted around them. Dimly she heard the audience cheering, but then Dalton’s arms tightened around her waist as the kiss drew out longer and sweeter and all she knew was him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Look, the newlyweds,” Dalton said as Erin and Matt entered the restaurant, their arms around each other’s waists. “I see you two are still stuck on perma-grin,” he added as they approached the table.

  Kynley swatted him on the arm and jumped out of her seat. “Don’t listen to him; you’re adorable,” she insisted, wrapping Erin in a hug.

  Dalton grinned as he stood to take his turn hugging his sister, then clasping Matt’s hand. The hostess had seated them on the balcony and even four stories up, the noise of the crowded Manhattan streets reached them—chirping walk signals, car tires humming on asphalt, and the ever-present honking horns.

  “When did you get in?” Matt asked as they all settled at the table.

  “A few hours ago,” Kynley said.

  “And the taping is in the morning?” Erin asked, her eyes sparkling.

  Dalton nodded. One of the guests at the Villanio party was a producer for Morningtime USA, the most popular network morning show on TV. She’d loved their story and had invited them to perform “Light Me Up” at the show’s main studio in New York. Now, six weeks later, here they were.

  Erin beamed at him, then turned to Kynley. “I hope my brother isn’t being too obnoxious.”

  “Uh, ouch!” Dalton protested.

  “I’m dealing,” Kynley said with a sidelong glance at Dalton. “Actually, he’s pretty harmless if you know how to manage him.” Her gray eyes softened as she reached out to squeeze his hand.

  They lingered over their sushi while the conversation moved from the TV show taping to Matt’s upcoming art show to Jilted Storm’s next tour.

  “No touring for a while,” Kynley said in answer to Erin’s question. “We’ve got to write and record new songs first.” Her eyes flickered to Dalton’s in acknowledgement of what was left unsaid.

  Claiming Sebastian was unhappy with the Villanio performance would be a massive understatement. He’d been furious. But his anger had only served to unite the band even more, and against them all he’d been able to do nothing but bluster and threaten. Nevertheless, Jilted Storm’s attorney expected a breach of contract lawsuit to hit his desk any day now. Technically, the band’s agreement with Sebastian didn’t require them to sign with a record company, so his case was a bit weak, but things would probably get sticky all the same.

  But that was a matter for the attorneys to sort out. Jilted Storm would focus on their next album.

  “So are you an official member of the band?” Matt asked Dalton as they left the restaurant and wandered across the street to Battery Park, enjoying the warm evening air.

  “Yes!” Kynley said excitedly. “He signed the paperwork last week. He’s ours now.” She bounced alongside him, her long hair tickling against his arm.

  Dalton had expected Leeson to rejoin Jilted Storm, but the band members had unanimously decided to offer the spot to him instead. Even now, it was hard to believe. His future, which had once seemed so dull and hopeless, was suddenly shining with freedom and possibility. Sometimes, he had to remind himself this was actually real.

  It was the most fantastic dream he’d ever had … except for one.

  He looped his arm around Kynley’s shoulders and pulled her close, loving the way her hip pressed against his, loving the new softness of her shoulders. She’d ditched Sebastian’s diet and was putting on some much-needed weight.

  “You did it,” Erin said softly, her eyes shining with pride. “My brother, the rock star.”

  They’d reached the park, and he glanced across Upper New York Bay toward the Statue of Liberty, silhouetted against the setting sun, shaking his head. “Nah. Your brother who is in love with a rock star,” he said.

  Kynley smiled and wrapped both arms around his waist, raising her head so her lips could meet his. Erin whooped with joy and Dalton felt Kynley smile, her lips tightening briefly under his. He pulled her closer. This was living the dream.

  About Jeanette Lewis

  Writing fiction has always been one of Jeanette’s favorite things and she can usually be seen going about life with the slightly distracted look that means she’s dreaming up another story. Other favorite things include family, friends, crisp Autumn days, having adventures, chocolate in almost any form, and frozen gummy bears.

  Join Jeanette’s newsletter and be among the first to receive info about new releases, works in progress, useless story trivia, and contests and giveaways.

  @authorjeanettel

  AuthorJeanetteLewis

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  Also by Jeanette Lewis

  Billionaire Bride Pact Series

  The Passionate One

  The Rebellious One

  The Adventurous One

  The Glamorous One

  Destination Billionaire Series

  The Lucky Billionaire

  Snow Valley Series

  Feels Like Love

  Tin Foil Tiaras

  Love Coming Late

  Starlight Kisses

  Indigo Bay Series

  Sweet Illusions*

  *Coming soon

  Acknowledgments

  Very special thank yous to:

  My family – for putting up with me and making do with Ramen on the nights mom has a deadline;

  Cami Checketts – for cheerfully jumping into this series with both feet;

  Cami, Christina, and Daniel – for being willing to plow through this manuscript in its roughest form and give me honest feedback;

  Jenna Roundy – for editing; and

  Christina Dymock – for the wonderful cover.

  Much love to all!

  Excerpt: The
Daring One

  By Cami Checketts

  Summer plodded along the Snodgrass Trail, waiting for the promised views of Mt. Crested Butte, but so far it was a dirt path with lots of lush greenery—mostly aspen and pine trees. Crested Butte, Colorado, was beautiful, and she didn’t completely loathe exploring the trails on foot, but she would’ve traded Diet Coke for life to be on a mountain bike. Sadly, she couldn’t afford a mountain bike or an abundance of Diet Coke. Maybe after she got her first paycheck from Haley she could rent a bike for a day and go on a huge excursion with only Diet Coke in her water bottle. She laughed at herself, thinking of the bellyache she’d have.

  At least when she was running, she was in tune with Mother Earth and all that schmuck. Her younger self would’ve been happily running barefoot, but she’d become disillusioned with branches and rocks poking her soles, and honestly, Mother Nature hadn’t been too kind to her lately. With her earbuds in, jamming to Mumford & Sons, she was only in sync with nature visually, but she couldn’t pound through miles on foot without some tunes.

  She sensed movement behind her and jumped in surprise as she heard someone yell, “On your left!”

  She dodged to the right, but the biker’s front tire clipped her heel and she went sprawling into the undergrowth. Branches and rocks scratched at her face and bare arms. Summer let loose a yelp and rolled onto her back with a groan.

  She stared up through aspen leaves to the blue sky above, yanking her earbuds out. “Ouch,” she muttered, inhaling the scent of dirt and pine needles, not ready to move quite yet.