by Eden Summers
“Yes,” Ryan announced. “We will.”
“Great.” Scott leaned to the side and pulled a piece of paper from his pants pocket. “I’ll take the information back to the team and see what they say. If they agree, I’ll call. But while you wait, here are the suggested changes to the tour.”
Ryan snatched the document and scoured the highlighted dates. Shit. Eight more shows that extended the tour for two weeks. He glanced at Leah, his jaw stiff, his anger coursing between them. The slight convulse of her throat was the only indication she understood his silent message.
This was bad.
This was fucked.
Her features continued to tighten, her frown deepening and deepening until everything froze and a calculated look of understanding washed over her.
“Nice pretense, Scott.” She narrowed her stare on the representative. “I can’t believe we almost fell for that.”
“Hmm?” Scott quirked a brow.
“We’re already a month into the tour and you expect everyone to be on board with new dates—the band, the crew, the venues? I call bullshit. You knew how adamant we were about the schedule. What you came in here for was the boost to Slicker’s profile. That was the goal all along, not the tour.” She cocked her hip and scoffed. “You start by threatening us with suggestions you knew the guys would never agree to—Gabi and the pregnancy, Mason and a wedding date. When the whole plan was to get us to promote your failing band.”
Scott waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he pushed to his feet. “This is about taking what we can from a band who snatched everything they could from us before they decided to cut and run.”
“Go to hell,” Sean growled. “It’s not our problem you’re delusional in thinking we’d sign another shitty deal. Get over it and move on.”
“I don’t have to. Not while we still have your current contract in play.”
Mason shoved to his feet. “Do you know what I do to guys who—”
“Good night, Scott.” Leah stepped in front of Mason, taking control, her presence a warning to the lead singer and anyone else in the room who wanted to voice their opinion. “We’ll speak again tomorrow.”
“You’re such a good leash.” Scott chuckled. “You’re the only woman I know who can bring five grown men to heel.”
Ryan tensed. Every muscle, every limb. The reason they responded to her instructions wasn’t because of authority or superiority. It was plain and simple respect. She’d earned the ability to pull them up on a dime because she’d proven her perspective was always clearer than theirs. It was what they relied on her for. That damn Wonder Woman thing, and she just proven it again by seeing through Scott’s bullshit.
“And you’re such a good lap dog.” She beamed a smile at him, her eyes flashing in supremacy. “Now get out of here and let me deal with this.”
Everyone remained silent as Scott sauntered from the room. There wasn’t a sound. Not even the asshole’s footsteps breached the heavy rush of blood in Ryan’s ears. Then the door slammed shut and the space erupted into a vocalized dog fight.
“He can get away with this, can’t he?”
“Yes.” Leah met Sean’s concern with a cringe. “History has shown that record labels can do whatever they like. Hell, they could even slip you a roofie and rape your ass and you’d still have to fulfill whatever contractual obligations they deem necessary.”
She wasn’t exaggerating. Behind the glitz and glamour of the music industry was a threatening relationship fans weren’t privy to. The artists held all the talent, and yet the label held all the power.
“I didn’t see this coming.” Mitch slumped onto the sofa and cradled his head in his hands. “I honestly thought we’d walk away from Grander amicably.”
Ryan nodded in agreement, but Leah didn’t mimic the movement. The guilt in her eyes said she’d anticipated this. She’d known it would happen.
“Scott would’ve been under pressure to re-sign Reckless.” She released a defeated breath. “And now that he’s failed, Grander is grasping at straws to get whatever they can before you’re out of contract and no longer under their dictatorship.”
“So what do we do? How do we fight this?” Mason knitted his hands back above his head. “It’s hard enough being away from Sidney, but Blake has to deal with a hell of a lot more. And I’ll be damned if I pimp out a band I hardly know.”
“That’s the problem. We have no power. We can’t fight this. What we have to do is give them what they want in the easiest way possible and get out as soon as we can.”
“Are you kidding?” Mason glared. “No fucking way.”
She turned on him, five and a half feet of gorgeous fury bearing down on the lead singer. “No, I’m not kidding. You have no idea what it’s like to be under the label’s control. You’ve slid by on impressive sales and side-stepped all the drama because your income frees you from the backstabbing. But believe me, this is what most artists have to deal with on a continuous basis. This is what the industry is like for everyone below the top ten percent. You wanted to decline signing the contract they offered, now face the backlash.”
Ryan itched to cut in, to back her up no matter how clueless he was on the topic. Only she didn’t need it. Mason held up his hands in surrender and returned to his position on the sofa. “Sorry I spoke.”
“Don’t be sorry. Be realistic. Their logic is clear.” Her voice was softer now, the edge of defeat heartbreaking. “They want to create a new Reckless Beat. At least sales-wise. Having us promote Slicker and gush over their songs will be one thing, but instigating a story fans can follow and become emotionally involved in will be bigger and better. It happens all the time. Celebrities get involved in scandalous relationships mere months before an album release. The process has become a routine for some artists.”
Ryan didn’t doubt it. He just wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into. He’d barely spared Slicker a sideways glance in the last month. They were a fledgling band assigned to the tour by Grander. The two men and two women group had no pulling power in regard to ticket sales. They had no tour experience at all. They were a heavy weight that nobody in Reckless had the time to coddle. So Ryan had chosen to give them a wide birth in an effort to hide his resentment.
It wasn’t hard. Things were frantic on the road, not enough sleep and too much adrenaline. It helped when Reckless now stayed in hotels and the up and coming group had to slum the nights in their tour bus. “So dating this woman will save our asses?”
Leah wouldn’t look him in the eye. She looked everywhere but him. “If you’re comfortable doing it, then yes, it would be the easiest option. Then again, if you’re not willing, we’ll work around that, too. I don’t want this to affect your divorce.”
His thumbs throbbed with the need to smooth the furrow of her brow. “No, I’ll do it. It’s no skin off my back.” He’d do whatever he could to take her stress away. He’d do it for Blake, too. And Mitch and Sean and Mason.
“Then all we can do now is wait.” She focused her attention on Mitch. “Can you go and check on Blake for me?”
“Yeah, of course.” He walked past her and rubbed her upper arm. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Get some rest.” She gave a sad smile at his touch and then glanced at Mason and Sean in turn. “You’ve got another sold out show tomorrow, then we’re back on the road.”
“Yes, Mom. Let us know as soon as you hear something.” Mason accompanied her to the door, Sean and Mitch following after. “See you tomorrow.”
“Good night.” She held the door open and watched them leave. Even after their footsteps faded, she didn’t look at him. “Are you going to hang around here for a while?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m good.”
She lowered her gaze to the hallway floor, killing him slowly with her disconnect. They couldn’t be alone in the same room together anymore. He wasn’t sure if she thought he was going to steal another kiss, or d
o something else equally moronic, but it was clear that returning to the way they once were wasn’t easy for her.
“I need to get going, though.” She shot him a millisecond glance. “I’ve got some research to do on your new girlfriend.”
He winced. He wasn’t interested in dating a stranger, fake or otherwise. “I’ll let you go.”
Yep, the same stilted conversation they’d been having for months. One uncomfortable sentence after another. Curse him and his senseless mistake. He missed her. He missed the conversation and the friendship. He missed the laughter and the reliance.
He strode to the door, trying to ignore the slight tense of her shoulders on his approach. “Don’t worry about this mess, OK?” He’d do some pretty crazy things to be able to move closer, to pull her in for one of the hugs he’d grown to rely on. “I’ll blow this chick out of the water.”
She gave a derisive laugh. “I don’t doubt it. But I’m also sure she’ll blow you, too. It’ll be a great way to get back on the horse.”
He wasn’t looking for a damn horse. Apart from an end to the divorce bullshit, all he wanted was Leah’s forgiveness. He needed his best friend back. And now, he was certain this situation with the lead singer of Slicker would send his ‘right time, right place’ progress back in the opposite direction.
Chapter Two
Leah hadn’t slept in days. Not that it was common to notch up a lot of slumber hours while on tour. Finding a pleasing hotel resting place was an unfavorable lucky dip. You never knew when you were going to score sound-proofing and a good mattress, and you certainly had no warning when there would be paper-thin walls and a chorus of sex noises from the room next door. And that was on the favorable nights when she wasn’t on the sleeper bus, traveling from location to location with a crew who snored loud enough to damage her hearing.
The insomnia had allowed her to spend the last two nights online stalking Felicity ‘Flick’ Knight and prepare how to tackle the latest Reckless disaster. The woman was drama-free according to the Internet. She was also too scarily stunning, too talented, and too fucking flawless to not have more than a few skeletons hanging in her perfect closet. But there was no getting around the relationship charade. Grander had agreed to stop riding their asses if this stunt went to plan, and the termination of said ass riding was on the top of her to-do list.
Ryan was due to arrive at her suite any minute now. A discussion about his responsibilities would be had. She’d then formally introduce him to the squeaky-clean singer and they could be on their merry way to fake Fucksville.
Yippee for a job well done.
Only it didn’t feel like she’d succeeded this time. Her insides churned as if she was approaching failure. Failure of what, she had no clue, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake the sensation.
If anything, she should be relieved. Since their kiss, and the subsequent escape to Vegas, she’d been on the edge of anxiety, wondering if her professionalism would slip again, shoving her into another fantastically inappropriate embrace in his profoundly muscular arms.
This situation should be her saving grace. Her buffer. Ryan’s occupation with another woman would give him less time to obsess over their fractured friendship, and maybe give him someone else to rely on, seeing as though she’d successfully kept her distance from him for months.
Yep. It was a win-win. Any minute now gratefulness would kick in. Any. Damn. Minute.
Fortunately, the knock at the door saved her from trying to awaken an emotion she wasn’t prepared to welcome.
“I’m coming.” She stood, sucked in a breath, and straightened her calf-length skirt. Sweat coated her palm as she pulled open the suite door and found a handsome face she hadn’t been expecting. “Blake? What are you doing here?”
“Ryan said he was meeting with you and Scott. Do you mind if I sit in?”
“Is that a good idea?” He was still temperamental from the first showdown. Being away from the woman he loved was far harder for him than Mason and Sean. Not that the others were dealing. They just had a thick layer of pride that didn’t allow for pining in public.
“This is a meeting about Ryan and Felicity. At the moment, the additional tour dates are on hold, and you know I’ll keep you informed if that changes.”
“Yeah, I know, but I still want to be here.”
He wiped a hand down his face and his fatigue pulled at her heavily guarded heartstrings. She rarely let the Reckless men lead her to make emotional decisions. Apart from Ryan, Blake was the only one near capable of manipulating her rarely seen non-professional side.
“Come in.” She released a defeated huff and side-stepped to open the door wider. “Ryan should be here any minute.”
She glanced down the hotel hall, double-checking the man of the moment wasn’t already on the way before she closed the door and walked to Blake. “Spill.” She rounded the small glass dining table and sank into a seat opposite him, the manila folder full of her research placed between them. “Why do you need to be here?”
“I guess I feel guilty. I won’t agree to more tour dates because I can’t go for months without seeing Gabi. But it also doesn’t sit right to let Ryan slut himself out for me.”
“It isn’t specifically for you.” She ignored the slut comment, because frankly, it fit. Anyone with a brain and a healthy libido would realize this type of arrangement would end with the fake relationship turning into real sex. “We all want to be finished with the tour when the baby comes.”
“I know.” His knee began to pulse—up down, up down—as he tapped his foot on the carpeted floor. “And I’m well aware that Ryan needs to get laid, but not like this. Not when it’s staged and under a microscope.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, unprepared for the brutal truth.
“What he needs is a woman who will unapologetically screw Julie out of his system,” he continued. “A cheap and nasty groupie who will—”
Leah held up her hand. “I get the picture.” The visual was like a machete to her sex-drive. “Ryan needs to get laid.”
“Speaking of getting laid, when was the last time you got busy?”
She screwed up her face in the most unladylike way. “Unless you’re offering your services, that’s none of your damn business.”
He grinned, his bad-boy charm surpassing the everyday male and moving into god-like territory. Thankfully, she was immune. “I’m only asking because you were determined to take more time for yourself after you returned from Vegas, yet you’re still the work-obsessed woman you’ve always been.”
Another knock sounded at the door, a welcomed reprieve from the unwanted conversation.
“Gabi’s pregnancy changed my priorities,” she lied, pushing to her feet. “I need to work harder now to make sure everything syncs with the birth.”
In reality, she’d come home from Vegas and taken an additional two nights off from the usual Reckless mania to try to regain some of the social life she’d once had. All she’d scored were rejection texts from old friends who were now too busy to catch up, and innumerable hours spent obsessing over her mistake with Ryan. So she slid straight back into the breakneck pace of working twenty-four-seven and became addicted to the distraction.
“I’m sure you can cut back on a few things to make more time for yourself.”
She headed for the hall, not looking back. “Are you offering to take some of my duties?”
His non-answer wasn’t surprising as she flung open the door and came face-to-face with a walking, talking heart palpitation.
“Ryan,” she greeted.
“Hey.” He jerked his chin at her, his smile lazy and sweet.
Even with tired eyes he was profoundly handsome. It was the one thing she couldn’t ignore—his physical appeal. Her thoughts could be smothered, her dreams stabbed and incinerated, but his gorgeousness was always there. Always an insistent reminder.
“Come in.” She swung an arm toward the dining table. “We’ve only got a few minutes bef
ore Scott and Felicity arrive.”
He strode before her, making it impossible for her gaze not to latch on to the tight stretch of his biceps against the material of his T-shirt. She hated those muscles. Loathed and despised how mouth-watering they were from years of guitar play.
“What are you doing here?” Ryan directed to Blake.
“Being a good pimp.” He gave a girlie smile and winked, the expression in complete contrast to his lethally spiked hair and the harsh tattoos inking every inch of his arms. “I wanted to make sure your first act of prostitution was done right.”
“Nice,” Ryan muttered, settling into the seat beside his friend. “I think I can handle the logistics on my own.”
“Maybe.” Blake shrugged. “But it’s been a while since you fucked something warm-blooded.”
“Assh—”
Leah held up a hand, and like always, her men complied. “Are you two done?”
Ryan glared. “I was about to tell Blake to go fuck himself, then I would’ve been finished.”
Blake’s lips twitched. “And I would’ve replied with, ‘I will, and I’ll think of you while I do it,’ and then the conversation would’ve been over.”
Leah clutched the back of her chair and gave them the look. The one she’d honed to perfection.
“Sorry,” Blake muttered.
He certainly would be if he continued with the bullshit. She currently lacked the patience to put up with their non-stop smack talk.
“We need to get started.” She sank into her seat and flipped open the folder. “Here’s the information I pulled on Felicity.”
Researching Ryan’s next bed partner was akin to a chili sauce enema. Unfortunately, she hadn’t paid the woman enough attention before the Grander bombshell, and being unprepared wasn’t an option.
“She grew up in a small town in Michigan. Didn’t go to college but had good grades in school. She’s played everything from piano to guitar to violin.” She spread out the pages, exposing black and white images of the dark-haired, light-eyed beauty. “I couldn’t find anything on past boyfriends or scorned lovers. No connection to drugs or alcohol abuse. In fact, there was nothing juicy at all. Nothing exciting. Nothing memorable. It doesn’t add up, but then again, who am I to judge a straight-laced rocker?”
