“I want number one.”
“Well then go get it kid.” He slid to the edge of the couch.
“I was thinking about calling Sam.”
Cameron’s head snapped in his direction. “Why would you open that bolted door?”
“She has connections to bloggers and social media influencers that can seal the deal for us.”
“But is it worth the price of inviting her back into your life?” He cautioned, his tone chilly.
“Maybe.”
“It’s your life and your career.” Cameron stood up.
Marques nodded, he had a lot to think about.
Cameron walked to the door. “I have work to do. All of us can’t hang out in the studio.”
"Hey, Cam."
Cameron glanced back at him.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Love you kid.”
Marques nodded not trusting his voice.
“Family…”
“…over fame,” Marques finished their motto.
“I’m out.”
Marques walked to the inner studio to lay the background vocals for the concert. Five years ago he thought Samantha Foster was the woman of his dreams. They grew up together in Atlanta. Her family knew his. It was a natural pairing until she dealt the ultimate betrayal for the sake of her budding blog. She used the worse night of his life to establish her celebrity gossip and news blog, dragging his name and career through the mud.
Sam insisted it was business. But to him, it was personal.
They severed ties and it left him with a sour taste in his mouth. Fame and love couldn’t coexist. At some point, one or the other would choose stardom over happily ever after. It made perfect sense to his ambitions, but it crushed the romantic in him that believed in love and family and forever.
Thoughts of Brione fluttered to mind as he settled behind the microphone. Maybe he unknowingly dodged another bullet when she decided not to call. Besides, he had an album to launch. He searched his phone and texted Samantha, offering her a golden ticket. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.
Chapter Seven
Marques arrived at the cafe early to calm his nerves. Bruce let him in and left to help Sandra get ready for the private concert.
Before concerts, his nerves were a mess. Would his voice crack? Would they love his music? Would he live up to the standards his father established?
He walked to the back to get dressed when a knock sounded. He looked back and forth trying to guess which door it came from. Another knock rang through the room and he headed to the front door.
Marques looked through the cafe and saw a woman through the glass. On first glance, she appeared to be the woman that haunted his dreams since last Saturday. He tried to discount the whole episode, blaming his wounded ego. The fact that a woman did not call him was unheard of, laughable, intriguing.
He slowed his pace closing the distance between them. Her body faced the side, but he’d recognize Brione anywhere. The bob, her skin, and then she turned. Her glasses were gone. Marques gripped the handle, gazing into her eyes. He lied. He still wanted her.
He opened the door.
“Brione, back for coffee, the place is closed.”
She looked up at the sign, as if to ensure she was in the correct location. “No, I’m early to meet my friend again. For a concert?” Her heated gaze zeroed in on his mouth and he smiled. She looked away stretching her neck to see around him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m the headliner.”
“It’s your concert.” Her eyes narrowed, “But it’s for Marques.”
“I’m—”
“Hey, you two.” Eliana leaned in to hug Brione. “You’re early.”
“Aren’t I always?” Brione nodded her head, her laughter fluttered out and warmed his soul.
Marques found the sound like a breath of fresh air after being closed inside all night. It felt invigorating, alive. Then her puzzled eyes held his, it was best to keep her guessing.
“Why don’t you ladies come in? We’re supposed to keep the door closed.”
He held the door open and Eliana passed through first and Brione moved her purse to the arm closest to him, as if to shield herself from him. Not a chance.
“Brione can I speak with you in private?” It was easy to disregard his feeling for her when she was not in sight. But the thought of her right here, right now, made ignoring it impossible.
“Huh…sure.” She glanced at Eliana and shrugged.
“I’ll start setting up.” Eliana walked toward the back.
“Thank you," Marques said. “Are we supposed to pretend we don’t know each other?”
He had no intentions of giving in to such antics. Not when having Brione near was like a shot of adrenaline. His heart hammered against his chest. What would happen when he kissed her? Tasted her? Made love to her? As if sensing his thoughts, Brione stepped backward bumping a table. He reached out a hand to steady her and it only made matters worse.
“I don’t know you.” Brione swatted off his offered hand.
“That’s your story?” he challenged, and her eyes avoided his.
“Is Andrew Carter your real name?”
“Yes. Why didn’t you call me?”
“My life is…complicated. And you’re Marques too?”
“Yes. Andrew Marques Carter.”
“Oh.” Her lips fell apart and a heated spark lit in her eyes. He knew that look, he stepped closer.
“Oh? What aren’t you telling me?” The flame in her eyes could melt the block of ice around his heart as her eyes darted nervously back and forth. “Tell me.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Hey, you guys ready? We only have an hour before the doors open.”
“Yes,” Brione called out stepping around him.
He reached for her arm, “This isn’t over.”
* * *
Dressed for the show, Marques studied himself in the mirror. Brione left the room without looking back, avoiding him while they setup. He’d let her get away once. But fate brought her back.
Like before her nearness sparked his creative energy. After their last parting he wrote two new songs and tonight would be his best show yet. He’d bet his inheritance on it. What was it about her?
“Come in,” he answered the soft knock.
“Are you ready? The house is packed.”
“I am. Step in for a second, close the door behind you.”
Eliana sat in the chair by the door.
“What’s the deal with Brione?”
She smiled up at him in amusement, “What do you mean?”
“What’s her story?”
“Besides the fact that you’ve hired her?” she said, a mocking little smile playing on her lips.
“I have ten minutes, give me the Cliffs Note version.”
“We met in college. Brione’s my best friend. But I want her for this job because she's a damn good worker.”
“That’s a resume. What about the woman?”
He turned to face her head on.
“She’s not your type.”
“And what is my type.” He rubbed his chin.
“She’s not a party girl. She's not an opportunist. She’s smart, loving, and kind to a fault sometimes. She’s loyal, even when people don’t deserve it. She’s a woman with a lot of promise and an abundance of talent. Her exterior is only the tip of the iceberg.”
Her response gave him a vivid picture of her thoughts about Brione and him. “Is that how you see me?”
“Honestly?”
He held up a hand. “Don’t forget I’m still your boss.”
“And she’s still my best friend.”
Marques found this version of Eliana piqued his interest. He was glad Bruce brought her aboard. “I’m glad she has you by her side.”
“I’m the lucky one.” She smiled.
“Does she have a man?”
“You’ll have to ask her that question.”
>
“Do you plan to block me?”
“I will if you plan to use her as a distraction. She’s not like most women. And you’d see a different side of me should any harm come her way.”
“Just make sure she’s seated in the front row.”
“You got it.”
Marques gave a gruff laugh as she tossed a wink on her way out the door. They both better get ready because tonight he was putting on a show just for Brione.
Chapter Eight
Brione placed a hand over her racing heart. Andrew and Marques are the same man. And now she had to deal with both. The thought of sitting through the night in a crowded room with him singing left her concerned. The last time she listened to his music things got out of hand, literally.
She glanced around the room. It was full of gorgeous women. Brione dolled up as instructed by Eliana. She demanded: "Dress for the club, not the law firm.”
Brione didn’t take it that far. She selected her favorite little black dress. However, she was questioning her choice now that she was seated in the front row. The stage was close enough to touch, and the open area between the audience and the stage left her legs exposed.
Her heart skipped. She tugged on the hem of her dress, and it snapped higher up her thighs.
Brione groaned flagging down Eliana from across the room.
Eliana walked over, Brione waved her down lower. She cupped her hand and leaned into Eliana's ear. “Why am I sitting in the front row? I can help you.”
“Boss’ orders.”
“Andrew wanted me here?” She motioned with her finger to the seat, smack-dab in the center. This totally was a setup.
“Yes, ma’am he did.” The lights dropped to a dim. “I hope you’re ready.”
“What does that mean?” Brione asked her retreating back. “Eliana,” she hissed, “what does it—”
The sound of thunder rumbled. The women clapped and howled as the sound of a heavy rain filled the room and dazzling lights flickered like lightning. This was the first concert for her, not that she wasn’t a music fan, she was. Time just didn’t allow for it. But thanks to her best friend, she may have found her new favorite singer.
The stage had a drummer and keyboardist dressed in all black. They blended into the background and the lights faded as the storm crashed once again and Brione saw him walk on stage and stand behind the microphone.
A feeling of excitement stirred in the pit of her stomach.
Now would be a fitting time for a motivation talk, a talk to keep your legs crossed, panties on. Anything to keep her from giving in to what her body wanted, craved. The best advice she could give from herself—to herself—was don’t look the man in the eyes. They shot like an arrow straight to her heart and his smile ignited the furnace in the pit of her stomach that always traveled south. And under no circumstances could she relive Saturday night, on her couch—dang it, she did it again.
Brione blinked several times. The screams of the women caused her to glance around the room again. Nothing but women, except the police officers scattered around the room.
“Girl are you ready for this?” The woman next to her slid to the edge of her chair. “You got the best seat in the house!”
She wanted to ask questions but the lights lifted and the woman went from cool as a cucumber to berserk in point zero five seconds. The fog machines turned on and a white haze filled the room.
The drummer thumped in sync with the music as the rain morphed into the sound of a beating heart with the faint sound of lovers' declarations of love and soft moans of ecstasy.
Brione couldn’t take her eyes off the stage. He shifted from left to right until he settled in a shoulder-width stance with one hand behind his back. Her eyes raked over his body from his black shoes to the loose black pants with a sequin detail up the sides of his legs. His muscles rippled under his snow-white shirt and Brione slowly gazed up to find Marques’ eyes and he winked.
Hidden in the haze of the dark room, she decided to give herself this moment. Tonight she wanted to be the version of herself that desired Marques. No one had to know.
Her heart beat louder than the drummer in her ears. Oh to have the skill to magically clear the room and have him all to herself.
Marques stepped to the microphone, “Tonight is a very special night and I plan to make it one you’ll never…ever…forget,” he said to the room but his eyes remained locked on hers.
“Would you mind…if I…sing to you?” The piercing screams would leave her deaf. Then the track dropped and it went so silent she thought she’d managed to sprinkle pixy dust and made them disappear.
“Would you mind if I put on a little slow jaaaaaammmmm...before I...?”
His lopsided sexy grin sent the room into another wave of screams and shouts of “I love you Marques.”
“I love you too.”
He stepped down from the stage and revealed the hand of roses behind his back. He gave one to the screaming head beside her. Then he passed her and went down the aisle. The fact that the women remained seated as instructed was a miracle but it didn’t stop them from reaching out and running their hands over his chest.
When he made it back to the front the two lone buttons were gone and his caramel dipped skin glistened beneath the lights as he stood with a single rose in his hand. He held the rose by its stem as he used the soft flower to caress her bare leg.
Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.
Brione squeezed her thighs together to keep the blaze at bay. She crossed her legs following her own advice as he brushed the fragrant rose along her v neckline. Not missing a beat or lyric he sang while her heart somersaulted in her chest.
“Intoxicated…I’m intoxicated…” He cooed not taking his eyes off hers. “Baby would you mind…”
The audience sang every word and ad lib. The night was full of his pure talent, sexual innuendos, and screaming fans. As it neared the end, the music dropped to a soft volume.
“I never close a concert without—”
“Pick me," "over here," and “I’m your number one fan” resounded over the music. Brione was in a daze churning with a desire she’d never knew existed. All night he’d danced and sung, slowly seducing her with his voice, his lyrics, his presence.
His flashed his million-dollar smile and laughed lazily, “I guess you’ve all been to one of my shows before.”
The audience laughed too. But the pleas continued leaving her curious about what he planned to do next. He walked over to the side and pulled out a red velvet chair.
The cool cucumber gasped and about fell out her seat trying to jump up to her feet. Brione snickered at the theatrics of it all.
Marques turned the chair to face the wall behind the stage and the “stay in your seat” rule evaporated. The crowd went crazy hopping up and down with their hands raised anxious to get his attention, to be the teacher’s pet. But something about the look in his eyes told her he'd made his selection.
She hoped her eyes conveyed her plea: Don’t pick me. She knew her panties were soaked and this was the most unorthodox interview she’d ever experienced. Marques laughingly shook his head and tossed his shirt aside sending the bunch into an uproar. The beat changed and he rolled his body in a Jamaican grind that left her licking her lips and rocking with him. Until he stopped in front of her.
He held the microphone behind his back and leaned beside her whispering in a low, smooth tone for her ears only. “Are you ready?”
She shook her head.
“I could lap dance on another.”
“Not and live to tell about it,” she flirted back.
His laughter was contagious and she turned until their lips almost touched.
“I’m about to get very inappropriate.” She inhaled his intoxicating scent. “But only for you.”
She wanted him to kiss her in a room of one hundred of his number one fans. He looked her over seductively and her defenses began to crumble. Her body vibrated for him to touch her as the mus
ic played and the women screamed, still hoping for their chance in the red chair.
“Are we talking Genuine ‘Pony’ or Chris Brown ‘Take You Down’?” She knew how to tease too.
“Oh baby girl, you’ll see they ain’t got nothing on me.”
“Prove it.” Her eyes locked with his.
Marques reached for her hand and guided her to the hot seat. His eyes smoldered with fire and raw need as her entire pep talk went out the window.
For the last fifteen minutes of the show he serenaded her on the stage, gyrating, and lifting her hands to roam across his tight chest. And to close the show, he led her off the stage to the back room as the crowd went wild. The band and music pumped up to match the exuberance of the audience and as soon as the door closed she found her back against the wall and his hot mouth claimed hers.
They kissed open-mouthed, panting as his sweating body pressed against hers. The screams of “encore, encore, encore” seeping through the door.
“Come home with me tonight.”
Chapter Nine
“I can’t….”
Encore! Encore! Encore!
One hundred people called for Marques. Yet it did not compare to the taste of Brione’s soft lips and the sweet fragrance of her skin. He moved from her mouth and brushed a trail down her jaw with the tip of his nose, kissing here and there. “You can’t or you won’t?”
“Both.”
He pulled back and looked down into her eyes. The sight made him want to stretch her out on the desk. Sandra would not approve nor would Bruce but he’d fight that battle to sample Brione. She had a way of looking at him through a haze of doubt or skepticism. Whoever hurt her in the past did a number on her. But in the throes of passion, her eyes blazed with need and he wanted the opportunity to fulfill it.
“What about dinner?” He wrapped an arm around her lower back and brought their bodies closer together. He slid his hands lower cupping her backside. Glory.
“We can’t. You’re my boss now remember.”
Rockstar Secrets (Forbidden Chords Book 1) Page 4
