by Wild, Bella
The place I chose was quiet enough that we would have some privacy. Up until now, no paparazzi had ever figured out I ate there regularly. That miracle was only because I used the staff entrance in the back alleyway, and they had cleared a small private room to seat me every time I had dinner there.
I was dressed and ready long before the planned time. This night needed to be special. I couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong now. As promised, Amanda came down promptly at seven o’clock. I was transfixed at the bottom of the stairs, staring—more like leering, truth be told—as she carefully descended in her black pumps. She was dressed in a pink button-down shirt, and a black skirt that stopped just above the knee.
“Wow,” I muttered. “You look stunning.”
“Thanks,” she answered as she approached me, her heels clicking lightly against the tile flooring. “But you don’t have to go overboard with the compliments. I’m not dressed up because I hadn’t planned to be out at all for this trip. And I definitely didn’t think a fancy pretend-date with a rock star was in the cards when I packed my bags.”
She smiled at me and my chest tightened. She was exquisite.
“I meant it. You look amazing,” I replied, hoping to reassure her.
I held out my arm for her to take the crook of my elbow. It had been a long time since I had been out on a real date. The rocker’s life was not nearly as glamorous as everyone made it out to be. Much of it was contrived, no different from the plan the FBI had concocted. It felt good to be playing this game, though. My scheme could not have gone down any better. It was exactly what I wanted to be—the man with Roxy Punisher on his arm. And this was not about Amanda’s public persona. I was obsessed with Roxy…and Amanda. I had to have her. If I ever got the chance again.
At the thought, my mind conjured up the image of when I slipped off her robe to find she was completely naked. I wanted to hold on to that mental picture for as long as possible. Unfortunately, I had to let it go when my cock twitched and hardened, pressing against the fabric of my slacks. It was time to focus on something else before she could notice. I didn’t want her to think all I wanted was to get her in bed with me.
“So, where are we going?” she asked.
“I made reservations at one of my favorite restaurants. You’ll see.”
I led her out the front doors, set the security alarm and walked her to my black sports car in the driveway. She glanced back at me with an approving nod.
“Nice car.”
“Thanks.”
“Hennessy Venom, right?” She asked as I stepped in front and opened the passenger door for her.
“Yeah!” I was surprised. Not many women on this side of the world knew about this make and model of vehicle.
“What year? Twenty-thirteen?” She accepted my extended arm so she could sit.
“Close. Twenty-fourteen.” I answered as she settled in.
I quickly rounded the front of the car and climbed into the driver side.
“Wow,” she said, admiring the interior. “Is this the one with the V-shaped eight-cylinder engine, and twin precision ball bearing turbochargers?”
“Yes! Whoa.”
“What?” she asked.
“I really don’t mean to sound sexist, but I’ve never met a woman who has this kind of in-depth knowledge about cars.”
“Oh, there are lots of women who know about this stuff.”
“Not in Los Angeles. And certainly not at my concerts. Although, I may be generalizing a bit.”
“Well, all the more reason to find some hobbies where you can meet women like that.”
I didn’t want to meet anyone else. But I kept that to myself.
“Yeah? Like where?”
She hesitated. “Hmmm. You’re probably right. Because other than the girls I knew in the MMA, I can’t think of anything.”
I started the car and revved the engine for her. She squealed with delight and laid her head back, listening to the engine purr.
“That’s hot,” she said, and a sexy smile rose up on her face.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I replied, not taking my eyes off her for a moment.
Her face flushed at my words. That’s the affect I wanted to have on Amanda. I had been obsessing over for a better part of three years. I decided to go easy on her. Within moments, we were speeding down the driveway and into the dusk that had fallen over the city.
I told her about the restaurant I had chosen. I shared that it was a little bistro-type place on the edge of town that I had stumbled into some years before. Anything closer to downtown Hollywood and I wouldn’t have had a minute alone with her. It would be photographers, girls asking for autographs, and having to politely answer fan questions for most of the night. There were only a few rare occasions that I enjoyed that attention. It was usually when I needed to get so far out of my own head, I had to let the rock star take over for the night. Those nights allowed me to lose myself in the dissonance of it all. But not tonight. Tonight, I had a chance to do something I’ve wanted to do for over three years—spend my time with Amanda.
The area near the bistro only had street parking, so I drove around the block a few times until I was able to find a spot. I pulled in, willing myself not to screw up the parallel parking job. Amanda was probably a skilled driver too. I managed to park without needing to make a ten-point adjustment. I considered that my first victory for the night. I got out of the car, rushing around to open Amanda’s door. It’s how I was raised to treat a woman, but any opportunity to get my hands on this particular woman was a bonus.
She took my arm and stepped out, straightening up so close to me, I could have pulled her into my chest and kissed her gorgeous lips. I offered her my arm and led her across the street to the alley beside the little restaurant. I explained my reasons, and she nodded. Once inside the back entrance, the head cook greeted me enthusiastically. He called the hostess and she led us to the private dining room. My usual spot.
“This is nice,” Amanda said as I pulled out her chair.
I took my seat across from her once she was comfortable. The hostess brought us menus and offered my favorite wine. I told her tonight we were having Amanda’s favorite, and they happened to have two bottles, unlike my place last night. The hostess excused herself to get it.
Amanda didn’t open the menu right away. She was still taking in her surroundings. “Not at all what I expected.”
“No?” I cocked an eyebrow at her. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know,” she said, breaking into a soft laugh. “Bright lights, opulence, a horde of servers waiting on you.”
“Hardly,” I replied. “This is more my speed. Plus I told you in the car, neither of us would enjoy that kind of scene.”
She nodded her agreement and took a sip of her water. “True. So is this more like the Lorne side of your personality? Not the Johnny side?”
I laughed. “Someone did their research, I see.”
She blushed. I was flattered she had looked into who I was. “Maybe just a little. So, tell me, where did the name Johnny Q Venom come from, anyway?”
“Hell if I know. It was Kevin’s idea. Apparently the name Lorne Stein didn’t quite say ‘rock star’. He thought I needed something with a little more punch. It’s kind of like Roxy Punisher, you know? It intimidates. It commands respect. And I’m sure it still brings fear to the faces of small children.”
“She leaned forward and laughed hard. “Good point.”
“Yes.”
“I have to ask. Was that you who left flowers in my hotel room?”
“It was. I wanted to make sure you had a good experience out here.”
“Thanks. And what is it about Kevin? I’m still trying to figure him out.”
“Well, get back to me when you do.”
As if on schedule, the server appeared with our wine. He poured our glasses, and after we ordered the main course, he stepped away briefly to get us dessert menus. I told Amanda to pick out anything sh
e felt like. She told the server she liked desserts with either chocolate, caramel or a hint of citrus, which was something I didn’t know about her that would come in handy. She told the server she would decide later and looked at me to let me order. I wasn’t much of a dessert person, but for her, I would try pretty much anything.
Fuck. The hold she had over me was overwhelming. I took in a deep breath and did my best to loosen up.
We picked up our wine glasses and each took a sip.
“Good choice,” I told her.
Technically, this close to a show, I wasn’t really supposed to be drinking. It was another one of Kevin’s rules. At any other time, I wouldn’t mind it at all. In fact, I was grateful he and Lady had screwed my head on right, years ago—they would tell me the world didn’t need more addicted musicians. We had a four-day no-drinking rule before studio recordings and live performances. Kevin would have my ass if he found out. Then again, he would have my ass for doing everything I was doing right now.
We chatted for over two hours and meandered through our meal. She opened up to me, sharing a few highlights about her MMA days. I listened to her stories and asked a lot of questions. I made a point of keeping to myself that I was a huge fan. I had probably watched all of her fights more times than she did. It felt awkward keeping it a secret, but I didn’t know how she would take it.
She asked a lot about my life. It felt more like courteous small-talk. She seemed like she didn’t want to pry. We talked about hobbies and favorite movies; sports teams and pizza toppings; most highly recommended memoirs and favorite vacation spots. The hours flew by. And the conversation never stopped or lulled through the whole thing. I enjoyed every minute with her. That was no surprise to me. This moment had been years months in the making.
“I don’t feel like heading home yet,” I announced, once the plates had been cleared and the bill was settled.
“I know,” Amanda said eagerly before taking the final sip of wine. “Me neither. This has been really fun.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” My chest pounded again.
“The only thing is I can’t stay out too late. I have to get up to make my flight tomorrow morning.”
“You’re leaving?” This was news to me. Why did she have to go? I hoped she wasn’t backing out.
“Yes,” she answered. “We have a few days until we leave for the first tour stop. I need to go home and pack, put my mail on hold, empty my fridge, that sort of stuff. Nothing glamorous, I assure you.”
I nodded. I was not pleased. Her reason made sense, but I didn’t like the idea of her leaving. In the back of my mind, there was lingering apprehension. I worried that she would get home and decide not to come back. I didn’t know what she really felt about taking such a risk. I had not intended to make her my bodyguard during this crazy stalker scenario. Kevin certainly wasn’t exactly a pleasure to work for. And I didn’t have the courage to tell her she meant a lot to me long before she even knew I existed. That would be awkward.
“Agent Carlson and his team will be at the house to keep an eye on things,” she said, misinterpreting my apprehension.
“Oh good,” I replied. I looked down at the table, tapping out a beat with my thumbs along the edge.
“I saw a sports bar a few doors down. Want to go check it out?”
I looked up and smiled at her. That was exactly what I wanted to hear.
Chapter Eleven
Amanda
We had a couple of beers at the bar, listened to some music, and casually watched the end of a football game that aired live earlier that night.
“Shit,” Johnny said, glancing at his phone. “It’s after midnight.”
“Are you going to turn back into a pumpkin now?” I asked, not sure my question had made sense. The bottle of wine and two beers had all gone to my head. I knew I wasn’t drunk, but I definitely had a buzz going.
Johnny laughed at my bad joke. “You have a flight tomorrow, remember?”
“Mmmhmm,” I said.
He was right. I should get back and take the few hours of sleep that remained to be had. As I watched him fish out a couple bills from his wallet, all I could do was stare. I want to get back into his bed, and sleeping was the last thing on my mind. The man made me so hot. I wanted his hands on me, and to feel his cock deep inside.
“God, Amanda,” he said in my ear. “I want you too.”
Oh shit! I had to have been way pass the buzzed stage now. I said that last part out loud. I couldn’t even try to be embarrassed. Shame did not register, with all the alcohol in my system.
Johnny spoke with the bartender for a few moments. Their voices were too low for me to hear what they were talking about. When he turned back to me, he smiled and held out his arm for me to take it. Boy, did I ever need something to keep me from nose-diving into the pavement outside.
“I’m having a car sent over. It’s not a good idea for me to drive. I’ll have someone come get my car tomorrow.”
I told him it was a good idea—and it took a gargantuan effort for me not to sound slurred. Nothing helped. I was drunk. I let him take my hand and he led me outside the bar. He threw a thank-you nod back to the bartender as the door swung shut behind us.
I shivered at the sudden temperature drop when we stepped out into the brisk night air. He removed his jacket with no hesitation and wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Thanks.”
“Not quite as warm as Miami, huh?”
“No, but it’s a gorgeous city too.”
He draped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his molten hot chest. I was thankful for the sweet gesture, and the body heat. Still, I had already done enough damage having all that alcohol and openly telling him I wanted to jump his bones. I needed to take this opportunity more seriously, so I subdued my instant arousal at his touch and made a quick sidestep.
“Thank you for such a nice evening,” I said politely. I caught his eye but quickly looked away.
“The pleasure was all mine, Amanda. It was refreshing to have such good company.”
I shivered. He had said exactly the same thing the night before. Or something close to it. With this level of intoxication, memories were the next thing to go after the shame dissolved.
“Don’t tell me someone like you has any shortage of good female company,” I said.
He laughed softly. “You’d be surprised.”
“Come on, give me a little credit here. I’m not under some star-struck impression that I was such a great time for you last night.”
He snorted a short laugh. My mention of our bedroom escape caught him off guard.
“Right,” he answered. “I mean. Yes. I won’t lie, I go out and there are always women around. But this…well, I have a great time around you. I’m not just talking about last night. I mean, that was great. I’d love to be with you again. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Well, I mean, not a lot, a lot, but you know.” He stopped short and gave a frustrated growl. “None of this is coming out right. I’m just making it worse.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I even brought it up.” I stared down at my shoes and mentally kicked myself for saying anything about it.
We stood on the sidewalk in front of the bar, not speaking or making eye contact. The awkwardness between us was amplified compared to how easy the rest of the night had been. Before this, the conversation had flowed so easily between us. I was grateful the town car pulled up a few minutes later. He helped me inside, and we kept some space between us.
It was difficult not to overanalyze it. I mentally debated—and poorly at that, with the alcohol-induced haze standing in the way of logic—whether he was keeping his distance to respect me, or as a buffer he wanted for himself. He made small talk on the way back, pointing out landmarks, cool restaurants, bars, and shops. We cruised through downtown Hollywood before making the ascent back up the hillside. The longer the awkwardness went on, the guiltier I felt. I wished I had a rewind button and could return t
o the easy rhythm we had over dinner and at the bar.
We finally got to his place. Johnny gave the driver the gate code to get in the driveway, and within minutes, the town car had rolled to a stop in front of the house. A bubble of anxiety welled up in my stomach. I was running out of time to correct the situation. Logically, we could both go to sleep and wake up to reset the next day. For a reason I could not quite put my finger on, it felt more urgent than that.
I opened my mouth, unsure what was going to come tumbling out. Before I could say anything, the car door opened and the driver peered down at me. He offered his hand to help me out of the car. My legs were unstable on my heels when I was out of the car, but not for long—Johnny stepped out behind me, and propped me up by putting his arm around my waist.
“This is weird,” Johnny said, turning to look at me.
I burst out laughing. It had to be the alcohol. “So weird!”
“Listen, Amanda,” Johnny started when my laughter had faded. “I like having you around. I know I’m supposed to play it cool or whatever. I don’t care. I just want you to know. I like…this.”
I smiled, but only to mask how much his words twisted at my heart.
“Listen, Johnny, I’m having fun too. I just don’t do this.” I paused, moving my hand back and forth between us. “I don’t do dating, or relationships, or whatever this feels like it’s turning into.”
“Is that code for try harder?” Johnny asked.
I laughed. “No, not at all. I’m serious. I…I just don’t.”
“Hmm.” He stared at me, like he could read my mind if he just concentrated hard enough. “All right, I can respect that. And just so I understand. What was last night, if…” his voice trailed off.
I shrugged. “What about last night? I said I don’t do dating, love or relationships. That doesn’t mean I’m celibate. I have needs just like everyone else.”
