Wild Harts: Rockstar Shifters Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  “Maybe,” Asher said, his tone carefully bored. “Maybe you should spend a bit more time working instead of slumming it with a piece of trash like Chase Hart. But you’re right,” Asher said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “It’s none of my business anymore.”

  Emily stalked closer and jabbed a finger into Asher’s sternum. “You are not half the man Chase is.” She paused and looked him up and down, not bothering to lower her voice. “In every possible way. Leave me and my career alone.”

  Asher’s eyes darted up and down the sidewalk, embarrassment making his neck flare red. He hated to think anyone could be anything but envious of him. He leaned forward and hissed, “I will not be made a fool by my girlfriend taking up with some rockstar. Jesus, Em. Think about what people will say. Think about how this will affect me.”

  Emily couldn’t stand it any longer. She hauled off and slapped him—hard—across his cheek. Around them, pedestrians paused, gasped. Asher’s cheek bloomed bright red, whether from embarrassment or the slap, Emily didn’t know or care.

  “Go fuck yourself, Asher.”

  Then Emily yanked the door open and strode inside.

  The nerves hit her on the elevator. Her hands started shaking, and she could feel a cold sweat along her hairline. What if Asher and Drake had really done some damage? What if she was about to be fired?

  Emily suppressed a frustrated whine and leaned her forehead against the cool metal walls. All too soon, the elevator dinged and slid open, and she found herself facing a nearly empty office. Sven’s office was at the back, across an open floor plan of meeting space and desks. Emily gave herself a second to collect her breath, text Chase that something had come up, then knocked on his door frame.

  Sven glanced up from his laptop. “Emily, come in.”

  Emily scooted into the door, nearly shaking now with anxiety. “Sven, if this is about something Asher said. He’s my—”

  “Come on, Emily, don’t try to bullshit me. How long have you been sleeping with Chase?”

  Emily’s mouth dropped open, and she sucked air. Her lungs still felt empty. “I don’t … It hasn’t ….”

  Disappointment crossed over Sven’s features, and he sat back heavily into his chair. “I don’t need to tell you how unprofessional it is. I mean, I expect it from some of the others,” he said, waving a hand out the door where the rest of the publicity team usually convened. “But from you? I didn’t expect this from the accomplished and driven Emily St. Clair.”

  “Sven, I can explain. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did, and it’s not … it’s not a fling, Sven. Chase and I … we’re together. Not just for this week or this month. We’re together.”

  Sven raised his eyebrows. “Despite that, or probably because of it, I’ve got no choice here but to take you off Wild Harts as primary publicist.”

  “No!” Emily hadn’t meant to shout, but she did. She dropped her chin and tried to calm her racing heart. “You know what good work I’ve been doing. They’ve got the piece in Glamour coming up to coincide with the album release, and”—Emily glanced at her watch—“they’re playing that gig right now to showcase the new music. And I just sent a pitch to Nina Marten a few hours ago!”

  Sven had opened his mouth to speak over Emily, but he stopped, frowned. Sven leaned forward and drummed his fingers against the top of his desk. “You really think you can get Nina to do a piece?”

  “My pitch was really good, Sven.” A tiny flame of hope flared in Emily’s chest and warmed her.

  “Okay, listen. If Nina agrees to do a story, you can keep your job. But if not … well, I like you Emily, so let’s just hope Nina goes for it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chase

  CHASE HAD PROMISED EMILY HE wouldn’t do anything stupid. And he had planned on keeping that promise. But this wasn’t stupid. Stupid would be allowing colossal douchebag Asher Longchamp to get away with how he’d treated Emily.

  He just … he kind of hoped Emily didn’t find out he was here. He’d spent the last twenty-four hours online stalking Asher and Drake McMannis, and figured out easily enough that they were headed to Topo tonight for tapas and drinks. He’d never known another human to check in at so many places—the desperation for approval and envy from Asher was nearly palpable.

  Chase didn’t like using his name or status to get perks, but he’d bent his own rules to get in the door at Topo tonight. Thankfully, the host was a big fan, and Chase just had to sign a handful of the evening’s menus and then he was ushered past the line. He spotted Asher immediately, sitting at a table near the window so passersby could see him eating and drinking at the hottest new place in the city.

  “I’m joining him,” Chase told the host, pointing out Asher. The lights were dim inside the tiny restaurant, with ironic hashtag memes scrawled on the walls in neon and the tables and chairs made of clear lucite. It was definitely not Chase’s sort of place.

  The neon meme behind Asher declared #wokeuplikethis and Chase nearly laughed out loud with how ridiculous it all was. Asher raised a hand toward them, apparently thinking it was Drake, but then let his hand fall as Chase got closer.

  “Thanks,” Chase told the host, then wove through the rest of the close tables to reach Asher.

  “They let you in? There’s a two-month wait to get a table here.”

  Chase pulled out his chair with a loud scrape and sat down without a word.

  “Um, dude, you’re not staying,” Asher said. “I’m meeting a friend.”

  “Who? Drake McMannis? You know, I heard through a contact in finance that his hedge fund is about to get their asses handed to them by their bosses.”

  Asher laughed cruelly. “What do you know about hedge funds? Drake’s team is making millions.”

  “I know my older brother studied finance at Yale. And I know he called up an old college buddy of his and reported some suspicious behavior on Drake’s account. Something about insider trading with some arrogant douchebag who works on Wall Street.”

  The first hints of fear settled heavily onto Asher’s carefully manicured features. “We haven’t done anything illegal.”

  Chase sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t stop your bosses from being suspicious. You’re trying to get a promotion, right? I have a feeling an investigation would impede that.”

  Asher leaned forward onto his elbows, his mouth twisted in disgust. “You have no idea what you’re playing with here, you asshole.”

  Chase shrugged, and reveled in the way Asher’s grimace tightened. “You’re probably right. I am just the talent, after all. That’s what you said, right?” Chase sat up taller, letting his entire powerful frame tower over Asher. “But here’s the thing. And I want you to listen closely, Asher. If you ever try to hurt Emily again, if you ever try to even speak to her again, you won’t be able to get a table at the Times Square McDonald’s. Do you understand me?” Chase enunciated every syllable, his steel eyes drilling into Asher’s face. “You won’t see another day if you ever try to screw with Emily again.”

  Asher’s mouth hung open for a half-second, then he scoffed and sat back. Though through the lucite table, Chase could see his hands clenched in his lap. “Are you actually threatening me? Are you really that stupid to threaten someone like me?”

  Chase smiled, the sort of deadly smile that could make blood run cold. “Oh, this isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.” Then he stood, hovering over Asher. For just a moment, he let his deeper self seep out, let his bear flash in his eyes and teeth and claws. He let that primal, feral part of himself seethe. Asher blinked quickly and pushed himself away, but when he looked again, Chase was fully human once more.

  “Do you understand me, Asher?” Chase growled.

  Asher could only nod weakly.

  Chase smiled again. “Good.” He turned and saw Drake haughtily shouldering past the line. “Looks like your friend is here. Do you want to tell him the news, or should I?”

  Asher just sat the
re, his face the color of curdled milk.

  “I’ll let you do it, then. Have a great meal, Asher. You better enjoy it.”

  Chase paused near the door, pausing near Drake who was trying to explain to the host that his friend had a reservation. When the host told him the party had already been seated, Drake got loud, threatened to call the manager and complain. Chase stepped in.

  “He can have my seat,” Chase offered, pointing out Asher still cowering at the window table. Drake barely acknowledged Chase, and was about to push his way past when Chase barred his way. “And just a warning. I’m pretty sure your girlfriend just pissed his pants, so maybe watch out for that.”

  Drake frowned, confusion making his ruddy cheeks and small, blue eyes look pinch in concentration. Before he could ask more, Chase left the restaurant.

  He had a smile on his face the entire way back to his apartment.

  Emily looked up from the kitchen table, both eyebrows raised. Chase tried for a smile, but even he could tell it looked guilty. She groaned and hopped down from a stool, padding across the parquet floor toward Chase.

  “Just tell me you didn’t send him to the hospital.”

  Chase placed both hands on Emily’s shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “Just a threat was enough. I told you I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

  Emily chewed at her lip. “You really didn’t hurt him? He’s an ass, and I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it, but ….”

  “I didn’t touch him, Em. I just scared him a little.”

  Emily quirked an eyebrow.

  “I sort of made something up about insider trading and Drake getting investigated. I think it was enough to make him piss himself. And I may have let him see another side of me.”

  Emily’s eyes went wide.

  “He’ll tell himself it was a trick of the light, but I bet he won’t sleep much tonight. And come on, he really did deserve it, Em. I think he’ll leave you alone now.”

  Emily tumbled into Chase’s arms and nestled into his chest. She ran her hands up his chest and walked her fingers along his shoulder. She tilted her face up to peer at Chase, a wicked smile curling at the edge of her perfect mouth. “I’ll have to think of some way to repay you.”

  Chase’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. He dipped his mouth to hers. “I can come up with a few ideas.”

  Emily smiled against Chase’s lips and looked into his eyes. “Yeah? Do they involve some black lingerie that is more lace than anything? Because that’s what I’m wearing under this dress. It’d be a shame if you tore them off me.”

  Chase growled and hauled Emily up into his arms, setting her on the edge of the kitchen table. He was just started to kiss her neck when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, looked nearly ready to turn it over and ignore it, but then she stopped.

  Chase pulled back and watched Emily. “Is everything okay?”

  Emily looked guilty, but picked up the phone and flicked her finger across the screen. Then her face lit up so bright, Chase was nearly blinded. Emily dove into Chase’s arms, hugging him tightly. She was beaming when he finally set her down.

  “Go get your brothers and meet me on the rooftop. I have some news.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emily

  EMILY STOOD AT THE WAIST-high roof of Chase’s Brooklyn apartment. The men of Wild Harts had rented four apartments in the building, just a few short blocks away from where they were recording the new album. From how Chase had talked about the underground show last night, the new album—tentatively titled Montana Echo—was going to be a hit. But more than that, it seemed the four brothers had found their true voice.

  The city spread out below Emily, a constantly-moving dance of cars and people and lights and sound. Ahead, the Brooklyn Bridge stretched across the East River, and the lights of Manhattan sparkled in the distance.

  For all Emily’s life, she had assumed she’d stay in the insular world to which she’d been born. A place where a boxy bag was a status symbol and placing your newborn into the right school was a competitive game. But just a few days away from everything she knew in the Upper East Side, and Emily felt calm. She felt surer of herself than she ever had before. And she had to thank Chase for that.

  Now, she could imagine a life that took her beyond New York, beyond any place she’d ever been, or even stay right here in Brooklyn. As long as she had Chase at her side, her partner.

  A happy tear pricked at the corner of Emily’s eye, and she swiped it away. At the same time, she heard the roof door swing open. Emily turned and held up the bottle of champagne she’d brought up.

  “What are we celebrating?” Jax asked, Tiff at his side.

  Emily grinned and stayed silent as she poured the bubbly into six flutes. She handed out a glass to each brother, Tiff, and then picked up the last one for herself. Chase wrapped his free arm around Emily’s waist and squeezed her gently. Emily looked up at him, at his quick smile and sharp eyes, at the love for her that was pouring out of his features.

  “What are we celebrating?” Emily looked around at the men and felt an upwelling of love for them. She felt a bit like a Mama Bear beaming with pride for her cubs. “I know we haven’t been together long, but I am so proud of what you guys pulled off. The show was a wild success. You don’t know this yet, but Sven has been charting some crazy buzz on social media surrounding the show.”

  Jax elbowed Bret in the side. “And you said the new music sucked donkey balls.”

  Bret cut a glance Jax’s way, but allowed a grin. “I said it sucked donkey ass. Get the insult right, Jax.”

  “I loved it,” Tiff offered.

  Bret rolled his eyes. “You would. It’s basically a love letter to you.” He paused, let a ripple of tension move through the circle. Then he sighed. “But as much as I hate to admit when I’m wrong, I was wrong. The new music is …”—Bret made a show of shuddering—“well, it’s pretty fucking brilliant.”

  Jax punched the air, then punched his brother in the shoulder. Chase chortled, his laugh low and rich. Drew even cracked a smile.

  “Well said, Bret,” Emily said with a nod. “But that’s not quite the reason we’re all up here.”

  Emily paused, shared a smile with Chase. “We got Nina.”

  The brothers went silent. Emily waited for it to sink in, her grin so wide her cheeks hurt.

  “No shit?” Jax finally said.

  Beside her, Chase pulled her into a fierce, proud hug. Emily kept her arm wrapped around him as she spoke to the others.

  “I just got the email. She wants us to meet her in LA next month for an initial interview to run in Rolling Stone, then she wants to follow us on the road for the first three shows of the next tour for a blog series.”

  Emily held up her glass. “So, a toast. To my wonderful Hart brothers and your sophomore success.”

  Chase interrupted before anyone could drink. “And to Emily, for being exactly who we needed. And for kicking ass, obviously.”

  “Hear, hear,” Drew said loudly.

  They clinked glasses and drank, happiness bubbling through them as effervescent as the champagne.

  Emily felt a world of emotions whirling through her—pride and excitement and nerves for what came next. But mostly she felt nearly overwhelmed with love. Love for this amazing time in her life; love for these four very different brothers; and love for Chase. Love for Chase until her very last breath.

  There was a second bottle gone before everyone filtered back to their own apartments below. For the first time that Emily knew of, Chase drank less than everyone except maybe Tiff, who declined more than the celebratory sip of her champagne.

  Drew pulled Emily aside before he left the rooftop, his voice low. “Thank you, Emily,” he said. “Truly. Not just for the work you’ve done for the band, but for Chase. Especially for my brother.”

  Emily tried to wave off the compliment. “Oh, I’m sure—”

  “No,” Drew interrupted. “You changed Chase in a way
that only a true soulmate can. I can only hope ….”

  Emily smiled warmly and laid a hand on Drew’s arm. “You will. And whoever you lock onto with be a lucky woman.”

  Drew slipped downstairs, and Emily wandered across the roof toward Chase at the railing. She felt buoyant with happiness. Surely there couldn’t be a feeling better than this.

  Chase refilled her glass and leaned against the rooftop railing. The glow of the city bathed them in ethereal light, and the champagne kept Emily warm tingly.

  “What was Dreary Drew saying? Tips for keeping me in line?”

  Emily batted at Chase’s arm. “Don’t be mean. Drew loves you.”

  Chase sighed and looked out over the city. “He’s a good older brother. When you were gone …,” Chase glanced up at Emily, his eyes dark and troubled for a moment. “It wasn’t my best moment, Em, but Drew was there, and he and Tiff helped me realize what an idiot I’d been to try and deny who you were to me.”

  Emily nudged Chase’s shoulder. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Chase. We’re here now. We’re happy.”

  “And you are? Happy, I mean?”

  The naked emotion in Chase’s voice nearly made Emily’s heart break.

  “Chase Hart, I chose you. No matter what you think about being fated and destiny. I made a choice to be with you. I chose happiness.”

  Chase nodded and smoothed a hand over his beard. Emily caught up his hand and twined it with hers. “I’ll never be a high society man, Em.”

  “I don’t want a high society man, Chase. I want you. Though I wouldn’t say no if you wore that suit again, just so I can peel it off of you.”

  Chase smiled, but more importantly, the storms cleared from his gray eyes. “That can be arranged.”

  Chase turned and plucked Emily’s champagne out of her hands then looked deep into her eyes. “I love you, Emily.”

  “And I love you.”

  “And if I were to pull out a ring right now and ask you to marry me, what would you say?”

  Emily’s eyes popped open and her heart kicked against her chest. Did he really mean it? Was he really asking? Emily’s voice was a strangled squeak when she finally spoke, her eyes already shining with tears.