Rocked Part 6 LIMITED EDITION: A New Adult Rockstar Romance (Billionaire's Obsession)

by Wild, Bella

  When they finally passed me a mirror, I almost didn’t recognize the face staring back at me. I looked…well, that face looked like a Hollywood starlet. My eyes were dark, and they looked huge. That was thanks to some careful eyeliner and a set of fake lashes sprinkled in here and there among my natural lashes. I have no idea how they were able to make my grey-green eyes look aqua-blue. It was probably the eyeshadow. My hair was almost black, cut in layers around my face. And the bangs gave me a totally different look. To complete the transformation, they put on dark red lipstick.

  “You look gorgeous! A perfect rock and roll princess!” the hairstylist said, fussing with my bangs some more.

  I smiled. It wasn’t as horrible as I had expected. When I woke up that morning, the dread of having this done overtook me. Now, seeing the results, it was impressive. The new look made me feel sexier too...maybe a little mysterious. It could help me feel more in character once we hit the road.

  “Johnny’s gonna shit himself!” the makeup lady chimed in.

  Johnny. My heart thumped inside my chest at his name. I hadn’t seen him all night, in spite of my late-night moments of arousal. He had touched me one too many times, right up to that limo escape. Now, my body’s memory craved him. But my head prevailed last night, after practically barricading myself in my room. It was a small victory. And this morning, when I had emerged from my room, there was a glow of light under his door. I debated whether to go see him, to talk to him, and maybe clear the air, but the house buzzed with activity. I ended up fighting off the temptation to knock.

  “You’re going to kill it at the photo shoot!”

  I smiled at the three ladies, and thanked them before heading over to the wardrobe stylist who was waiting for me. All we needed to do was choose twenty outfits—seven to wear at the tour stops, and the rest for transfers to and from whatever air or ground transportation there was in between. And one for the photoshoot today. I rolled my eyes at the thought, but this woman was on point. The main floor room where she was set up had about a dozen rolling racks, with hundreds of clothing pieces they had managed to get inside sometime during the night.

  She figured out my size in one thoughtful glance at me from head to toe. Ten minutes later, she had thirty or so combinations of dresses, blouses, blazers, pants, skirts, swimsuits, shoes, jewelry, and even a couple of scarves for me to try. I could barely believe it. An hour later, I was all set, and kept on one dress I would wear for the photo shoot.

  Thinking back on the morning, it would have made more sense to fit me for all the clothes before applying makeup. A touch-up was in order. At least that’s what the makeup artist told me when she saw me again. Soon it was four of them all around me, fixing and adjusting.

  As far as they all knew, I was Johnny’s girlfriend, and we were about to have our first couple’s photo shoot today. Kevin had handpicked this style team based on their reputation as major gossip queens around the Hollywood music and celebrity scene. His rationale was they would be more effective at spreading the word than any one media outlet, which would build credibility for our cover story. Based on the things I had learned from these four women in the last three hours, I had no doubt they could deliver in spades. I could probably kick off my private security business with twenty new A-list customers just from their unsolicited gossip-slash-intel.

  As they went about packing up their mountain of supplies, I excused myself. I went to the kitchen to get a coffee refill and snag one of the donuts I had seen on an earlier trip. I was surprised—Johnny was sitting there, and was the only one in the kitchen. I had not expected him to come down this early He looked up at me when he heard my designer shoes clicking on the floor. I couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on face.

  Chapter Ten

  Amanda

  “Christ,” he stuttered. “Amanda, wow. You look amazing!”

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling. I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a treat from the box sitting on the counter.

  “More coffee?” He asked, gesturing at the empty cup in my hand.

  I nodded, my mouth full of apple fritter. He poured me a fresh cup, added some cream, and pressed the warm mug back into my hand.

  “Thank you.”

  I gave him a once-over as I took the first scorching sip. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, hair still rumpled and clothes wrinkled.

  “You’re ready for today?” I asked.

  “I’ve never done a couple’s shoot before. It could turn out to be pretty challenging,” he said.

  “I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” I leaned against the counter and looked at him, still in slight disbelief I had turned down that smoking hot body on several occasions.

  “The challenging part will be not getting too carried away.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’ll have to resist my urge to take you right there on set,” he said, leaning into me and bringing his lips to my ear.

  I instantly felt my temperature rise at his closeness, and the mental image. I couldn’t think of a reply fast enough, and I let the moment pass. He backed off and returned to making his breakfast as if nothing had happened. He threw me a casual smile from his place at the stove. He was making an omelet of some variety.

  “Care for some eggs?” he asked, as if I had imagined the whole thing.

  “No thank you. I’ll pass.”

  We weren’t alone for long. Moments later, the team of FBI agents came in, followed closely behind by Kevin.

  “Everyone ready?” Kevin asked, glancing around the room at each of us in turn.

  Fred answered first. “My team is set. Larry and I will go ahead, pick up some gear, and meet you, the road crew and the security detail at the airport after the photo shoot. Jenny and Lucas will return to the LA field office to keep working on the unsub’s internet activity.”

  Plans seemed to shift underneath me. The last time I had been briefed, Fred and Larry were going to accompany Johnny and the crew for the photoshoot. Now they were going on ahead of us. It was clear that going with the flow had to become my new motto. Kevin nodded, and looked back to Johnny and me before checking his watch.

  “I’ll be ready in five,” Johnny said. He folded his eggs over and slid them out onto the plate he had waiting.

  The agents exited and I downed the rest of my coffee. Kevin left to oversee the assistants and drivers. They were busy loading luggage into one of the two limo-bus vans waiting outside to take us to the photoshoot. The assistants and driver would wait with our stuff so we could head directly to the airport to catch our plane. I had seen the pile of luggage in the foyer that morning. I had to smile. I had been worrying back in Miami that I was bringing too much stuff. My three bags—my original two and now a third with my trendy, new-fangled, hand-picked, Johnny-Q-Venom-worthy fashion ensembles—were a tiny fraction of the number of bags in that mountain of luggage.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with all this?” Johnny asked, in between bites of his breakfast.

  I turned back to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, the whole thing went sideways on you. Now you have to be my personal babysitter and they’re getting you involved with the media, changing your hair, all that. And I didn’t notice any Kevlar in that wardrobe either. So you’re signing up to do all that, plus practically standing by to take a bullet for me, if it comes to that.”

  “I’m good with it. I can handle it.”

  “All right. Just asking.” He took another bite.

  “Johnny! Amanda! Now,” Kevin shouted from the living room.

  Johnny dropped his plate in the sink and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin. He took my hand as we left the kitchen. “It’s got to be believable, right?”

  I nodded, and we followed the sound of Kevin’s voice out to the driveway. I did what I was told and climbed into the back seat of the first van. The other one was full to bursting with all of the luggage. Minutes later, we were off, heading to downtown LA for the photo sh
oot. As we rode along, I stared out the window, too tired to mentally object or form and opinions. Johnny sat in the row ahead of me. He seemed to be doing some thinking of his own.

  We hit the streets at probably the worst possible time. Rush hour. The roads and highways were packed. It took over an hour to get to the hotel. Kevin had booked the presidential suite for the shoot. The entire time we were in the van, Kevin had the phone to his ear. He complained loudly to the driver about the traffic, and kept compulsively checking his watch.

  We eventually arrived at the location, and had lost a ‘precious’ hour, as Kevin put it. Johnny and I were whisked away to separate hotel rooms for more hair, makeup, and wardrobe. I was already ninety percent done, so they did a quick touch-up. The photographer had yet another wardrobe consultant on hand.

  She walked me over to a rack of dresses to choose from. “It’s just in case,” she told me.

  Everything was short, tight, and low-cut. I looked at few of them, and settled for what I had on. This electric blue dress with asymmetrical accents on the side was closest to my style. It was the most flattering, in my opinion, and the wardrobe girl agreed the color would pop.

  I turned to the hotel room door, and Kevin was standing inside the room among the hair and makeup people. “There she is! Come with me, Rachel. Let’s get these two lovebirds in place.”

  Rachel. That was the name Fred and Kevin had picked out for my alias. I didn’t even get to pick my fake name. I would be Rachel Preston to the media, to keep my real name under wraps. He and Kevin left the other details up to me, but they both stressed that the less I said during the interview, the better.

  And Kevin’s sarcasm was unmistakable. I faltered at the broad grin on his face. It was as fake as this sham of a relationship Johnny and I were about to pose for, so the media could magically spin it into existence. He took my arm and led me out of the room, across to the presidential suite. He walked me through the large living room full of lighting and set staff, into a larger bedroom. My eyes instantly went to the bed. It appeared to be the focal point of all the cameras and lights.

  “Johnny, here’s your girl,” Kevin said, pasted-on grin still firmly in place.

  It occurred to me that Kevin had no choice but to go along with this cover story now. So even though he not-so-secretly despised me—for reasons that were still unknown to me—he had to play nice in front of everyone else. I felt some relief. I would get a break from his glaring and sniping when we had any kind of audience.

  “Rachel, this is Lanna,” he said. “She’s one of the writers for Celebrity Star magazine. She’ll do a short interview after the shoot. Nothing too extreme. Just a few questions for Johnny and Rachel, right Lanna?”

  Johnny came up from behind me and laced his arms around my waist. The intimate gesture threw me off, and I almost did a martial arts block to push his hands away. Luckily I remembered we were in a fishbowl. Everyone was watching, and expected to see us happy and in love. I relaxed my hands and placed them over Johnny’s, giving them a quick squeeze.

  “Nice to meet you, Rachel,” Lanna said, holding out her hand for me to shake.

  Johnny released me and I stepped forward to shake her hand. “Likewise,” I said, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it felt.

  “Let’s get going, we have a tight schedule here, people,” Kevin said.

  I couldn’t tell if it was the lights, the swarm of busy people, or the skintight dress, but all of a sudden, I was overwhelmed by the whole thing. I had not done a photoshoot for over eighteen months, and I never had to get this dressed up. Plus, I always shared the spotlight with another female MMA fighter for those promo shoots. Johnny was in his element, but all eyes were on me. I was the newsworthy buzz for the moment, icing on the cake that was Johnny Q Venom. On instinct, I took hold of Johnny’s hand. He became my anchor, to keep from running out of the room and right back to the post-celebrity obscurity I had grown accustomed to.

  “You look amazing in that dress,” he whispered in my ear. He pulled me close to his side while everyone rushed around to tweak the set.

  “Thanks,” I replied nervously, trying to force myself to relax.

  “Okay, Johnny,” Lanna called from across the room. “We’ll start with you standing in front of the bed. And Rachel, honey, you’ll be here. Just relax on the bed. Be flirtatious, sultry.”

  My eyebrows shot up at her. “Is this a photo shoot, or porn?”

  Johnny laughed. “Not to worry, Rachel. She’ll keep it classy.”

  He winked at me, still smiling. I tried to laugh along, but my stomach had bunched up in knots. I stared at the scene in front of me, trying to wrap my mind around how exactly I was going to pull this off. As Rachel. What the hell?

  Chapter Eleven

  Johnny

  “Rachel, darling. You have got to loosen up, honey,” Lanna said.

  I glanced over at Amanda to gauge her reaction to Lanna’s instructions. Her face was blank, and although she nodded, it was pretty clear to everyone in the room she was in over her head. And Lanna had been so used to people in the business, she struggled to help. What she thought was helpful was just adding to Amanda’s stress.

  We were two hours into the photos shoot. Things were not going well. Lanna had set the scene for us; she wanted us to act like we had just gotten back into our swanky hotel room after a party, and were staying in for the rest of the night. The magazine wanted sexy, fantasy pictures of us together. So far, it had been photos of Amanda that Lanna felt looked stiff and uncomfortable.

  This was not working. I hated seeing her so freaked out. At the same time, I was baffled by her reaction to me. I understood we were not a real couple, that this was all a charade—for now. But it was like she forgot I had rocked her world a few times already. She was tense, and would recoil every time I touched her. It did not make sense. I tried not to take it personally. The cameras and crew were enough to make anyone antsy. There had to be something else going through her mind.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, looking down at her.

  “Uh huh,” she mumbled, not meeting my eyes. “Except I don’t do loose. Or slutty, or whatever it is they want me to be right now. And I can’t get used to her calling me Rachel. I keep wanting to look around to see who she’s talking to.”

  “Can we get a minute alone?” I called out to Lanna.

  Kevin stepped in from the sidelines, holding up his wrist. “No, we don’t have time. At this point, we are barely going to have time for the interview.”

  “It’s okay. I can do this,” Amanda said.

  She seemed to shake off some of her anxiety. She reached her arms up to my shoulder and arched her neck so I could lean in and kiss her. She still felt rigid in my arms, but it was a start. The photographer started taking pictures, so I continued. I pressed my lips to her skin. She was fine until the clicking of camera shutters started again. She tensed up. It gave me an idea.

  “Can we get some music? The sound is way too tinny in here,” I said.

  “Excellent idea, Johnny!” Lanna chimed in from the sidelines. She clapped her hands and an assistant hurried to one corner of the room. Within seconds, a flood of music filled the air, drowning out the background noise of the set.

  Amanda finally made eye contact with me.

  “We can do this,” I said, leaning in to put my lips to her ear. “Just imagine I’m your man, and I’m crazy about you.”

  Her arms relaxed and I pulled her in closer. I moved my hands down her sides, smoothing over the soft fabric of her dress. Even with the audience, touching Amanda got me aroused when I explored her curves. She was still in fighting shape. I loved the feel of her firm body underneath my hands. My thumbs grazed her sides, and she took in a sharp breath. I smiled. She was getting there. I brought my hand up to her face and cupped her chin. When I kissed her, the remaining tension melted. The kiss deepened and she pressed in closer to me. Our bodies meshed together. It was a perfect fit.

  “Good, good! You’ve go
t it, Rachel!” Lanna called out, above the music.

  We got a lot more shots, and stopped for a break while Lanna checked on what the photographer had taken so far.

  “Rachel, how do you feel about taking off some of these clothes?” Lanna asked, approaching us after looking over the photos.

  “What?” Amanda’s eyebrows raised in alarm. She glanced up at me, her eyes wide.

  “Everything would be covered up in the pictures, obviously,” Lanna tried to assured us. “Maybe we can do a few with Johnny unzipping your dress, sliding it down. You know? Something tasteful.”

  As with anything else in this music business, I had to take a stand. “We’re not doing that, Lanna. I’d like to keep Rachel all to myself.” I grabbed Amanda’s hips from where I stood behind her, possessively pulling her into me.

  Lanna seemed disappointed, but backed off. “All right. Then I think we have what we need for photos. We can start on the interview now. Go ahead and get ready. I need you in a different dress, Rachel. You have five minutes.”

  I took Amanda’s hand and walked her out into the hallway.

  “Thank you for getting me out of that…striptease scenario craziness,” she said.

  “You don’t have to thank me. Real or pretend girlfriend, that’s not something I’d let them do to you.”

  She nodded thoughtfully before entering her dressing room. I stood outside her door for a moment. After she disappeared, I went back to my room down the hall to get back into the clothes I wore to get here, then went back to wait at her door. She came out a few minutes later, wearing a shimmering low-cut pink dress. All I wanted was to put my hands all over her. Too bad there was no time.

  We returned to the main room, and Lanna started the interview. It was pretty standard. She asked the usual set of questions people pose to new couples—where we met, was it love at first sight, how serious we were, what Rachel thought of the rock star lifestyle and living in Hollywood, whether this new love story would affect my next record. On and on and on it went.