Reckless Love: A Billionaire Baby Steamy Fantasy Multicultural Love Story Rockstar Romance

by Imani King

  “How did you learn to dance like this?” She finally asked him, when she was able to get herself to look him in the eye. She tried to listen to the answer but she was caught in looking at him, admiring the line of his cheekbones, the hint of five o’clock shadow, his hair tumbling down over his forehead. His scent was intoxicating too. Somehow dangerous. And expensive. Peaty from the scotch, and warm from his cologne. And a little trace of sweat underneath, reminding you that he was a man.

  “…And then the Zorgons returned me to the earth and I was able to dance like Fred Astaire!” he finished.

  She realized she hadn’t been listening.

  “Oh sorry, I drifted off. I’ve never danced with a nobleman before. And can I blame it on the jet lag?”

  “No matter,” he said with a roguish grin. God, I would drop my panties and take him right on this dance floor. “It’s better if you don’t listen. Then I have less chance of putting my foot in my mouth.”

  “Oh yeah? Do you like toes in your mouth?” I can’t believe I am saying this!

  “The right ones, sure.” His grin now was more lascivious. His hand slid tantalizingly around her waist. “So you played really beautifully today.”

  “Oh,” she blushed and averted her eyes. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure anyone was paying attention.”

  “They were,” he said. “With this crowd it’s hit or miss. They have their heads so far up their arses that you can’t always tell what they’re paying attention to, but you! You had them eating out of the palm of your hand, I’d say.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

  He drew her a bit closer. They danced out of the fray, more toward the side of the room.

  Soon the dancing became more like holding each other and swaying. It felt wonderful, but she could also sense lot of eyes on them, and not warmly. Better leave this for another time.

  “Would you excuse me?” she said gently. “I have to visit the powder room.”

  “Powder room,” he smiled. “I haven’t heard that one since I stopped watching old American TV. Certainly, I’ll catch up with you later…Jasmine.” Her name in his voice sounded naughty, smooth, and conspiratorial all in one. Blushing, she excused herself again and went off to find the bathroom. As she busied herself in the stall she heard some people come in.

  “Well that Leopold, he is a bit much, wasn’t he?” said the most posh voice that Jasmine could imagine. The words may have been mild, but the intent was crystal.

  It wouldn’t have been more obvious if she had said, “Leo is an alcoholic wreck.”

  "What would their poor mother think? He's been spending too much time around the riff-raff," came another voice. “Musicians.” Something inside Jasmine flamed. How dare they. But it wasn’t just the reference to musicians that bothered her, even though she wondered the intent – was it the band, or dancing with her that they were referring to? It was the way they dismissed him, when only just a little while before they had been hanging on every breath he uttered.

  She cleared her throat, and the comments stopped. She walked out, drawing her petite frame to its fullest height, and looked the women in the eye. The first closed her lipstick and shut it in her pocketbook with an audible, somehow-judgmental snap, and the other busied herself at the sink, as Jasmine did.

  The two ladies exchanged glances and then left without another word.

  Regarding the gentle smile on her full lips in the mirror with satisfaction, Jasmine tucked a stray curl behind her ear and refreshed her own lip color.

  So that’s how horrid things are done here in England, she thought, behind a hand, seemingly innocuously, but full of venom. Must be hard for an outsize personality like Leo. She thought again of that strange mixture of innocence and worldliness in his eyes. How had he caught her heart so in such a short time?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jasmine and Leo… and Nigel

  The night was wearing on, and people were starting to leave. Someone had lowered the lights a bit, and the candles were twinkling at each table. The few remaining guests were sat in small groups, standing at the bar, or slowly dancing on the dance floor.

  The quartet members were looking restless, all but Jasmine, who was enjoying the feeling of Leo’s hand on the small of her back, out of sight of even her friends. His hand felt so warm, so comforting, and yet with a hint of recklessness. Of danger. She almost felt as if it would snake down under her skirt if a few more people left and as much as she might want that, of course it would be completely unacceptable. As it was, it was exciting enough to feel his touch.

  Kerry had started to give her pointed glances, clearly wanting to leave, but too good a friend to interfere when she knew what was going on. Still the others were in the dark and showed it. Jessa’s chin was propped up, elbows on the table, her eyes half closed, and Robyn was tapping Kerry on the shoulder, probably making a case to leave, Jasmine surmised.

  But that was so difficult to even think about.

  Jasmine had always been the one who wanted to be the first to leave any event, ready to go home and practice as soon as it was over. Her mind would be only on how she could improve her performance, not on how she could pick up one of the guests.

  On his part, Leo marveled at how this small scrap of fabric underneath his fingers could be a hundred times more exciting somehow than any of the crazy events of his own experience. Just touching the small of her back was nearly enough – his fingers hungry for every tiny little connection with Jasmine. Of course he wanted more – but for the first time in his life, he was unwilling to lose what he had – which in this case was a tiny piece of real estate the size of his hand on the soft black fabric of her gown.

  But nonetheless Jasmine was feeling guilty. Seeing her quartet members aching to leave was conflicting with her desire to find out exactly what was going on between her and Leo. She turned to him.

  “Well, I suppose all good things must come to an end,” she murmured. “It looks like it it’s getting on time to leave.”

  “Yes I’m afraid things do tend to wind down about 11 PM here in jolly old England, at least in our current part of it,” he smiled ruefully. “Of course when the band’s all together we do tend to push the limits.”

  “I’m kind of embarrassed to say, I actually haven’t heard your band.” She figured she might as well admit it – her complete ignorance when it came to pop music.

  “Well I can fix that,” he said. “Take my iPod and when you go to bed tonight, have a listen and think of me.” He handed her the device, taking a little extra time as the fingers were touching. “Will you still be around the grounds tomorrow?”

  “Just for the day,” she replied. “We leave for another concert the next day, but tomorrow is a free day, and we’ve been graciously allowed to stay here.”

  “Well we will just have to meet up so I can get my MP3 player back,” he winked. “I can’t have you walking off with it now can I?”

  “Absolutely not,” she said. “But what if I get addicted to your style? And I decide to abandon classical music altogether?”

  His eyes flashed lasciviously. “Are you that easy to corrupt? And here I thought that you were going to redeem me.”

  “Well on that note,” she grinned, “I better get while the getting’s good.”

  “Well all right then,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the games room tomorrow at one, and we can say… go for a walk?”

  “Sounds lovely.” He squeezed her hand briefly, sending an electric spark to her core. She tried not to skip back to her quartet.

  “I thought you’d never want to leave,” said Kerry, with a half-grin on her face. “But I gotta say – we are all lagging here.”

  “I get it! Let’s go!” She walked out with more energy than she had felt in years, holding the tiny MP3 player tightly.

  ***

  Nigel eyed the gaggle of American girls were pushing their way out the door just as he was walking in. Not bad, he thought turning his head to watch them g
o. His eyes went from rear to rear. Not bad at all. Well fit.

  He scanned the room for Leo, finally seeing him standing at the edge of the room leaning against the wall with a dreamy look on his face.

  “All right mate?” He said as he reached his friend.

  “Nigel! I didn’t think you could make it!” Leo clapped his friend on the shoulder.

  “Neither did I, mate, but we’ve finished recording a smidge early and I did my best to make it to the Victor’s wedding. How did it all go? Was it quite dreary? I’ve got something to ease both of our pain.”

  Leo was thinking of Jasmine. “Actually it was not so bad, I’ll tell you about it sometime. Now what’s this you’ve got for me?”

  “Actually got a couple of things,” he said. “But we should get out of here and get right to it.”

  “Why can’t get to fucked up tonight mate,” he said, “I’ve got shit to do in the morning.” He felt a little bad referring to his date as ‘shit to do,’ but it really wasn’t the right time to be telling Nigel about a girl. Besides after the night he’d had it will be a relief to have a drink with Nigel.

  He could keep it from getting out of control, couldn’t he?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jasmine

  Jasmine nearly sailed home. Her quartet, however, was not nearly as blasé as she would’ve hoped about the whole “meeting of English billionaire rock star nobleman” thing. In fact it seemed like they were full of questions.

  Jessa was pulling on her arm like a little kid. “So tell us everything!” She said, breathless. “Who is he? What’s he like as a person? What did he think of our playing? Does he want to see you again?” The questions were coming fast and furious. In fact, Jasmine couldn’t keep up with them, and Kerry had to step in – although she did it thoroughly tongue in cheek.

  “Come on guys, she doesn’t need you badgering her about every little thing having to do with her fancy rock star playboy boyfriend. Just because it’s completely unlike her doesn’t mean we should be allowed to harangue her with questions.”

  Robyn piped up. ”But that’s just the thing! It is so unlike her. If I was can going to pick any of us to meet somebody on this trip, it would be me of course,” she grinned, “but second choice, I doubt it would be Jasmine. Not that she’s not pretty enough, or anything like that, but everyone knows her first love is her cello.”

  “While that’s true,” Jasmine said side eyeing her, “I guess life is full of surprises.”

  “ So you’re not going to answer any of our questions?” Jessa pouted.

  “Or introduce us to the rest of the band?”

  “Maybe we should let her get used to the idea first,” Kerry said. “I mean, when’s the last time she had a date? Undergrad?”

  “Hey, be nice!”

  “I am nice,” Kerry said, a wounded look on her face. “All I’m saying is give the girl a break.” She turned to Jasmine. “So you’ve never heard his music, right? What if you don’t like it?”

  Jasmine didn’t quite feel like telling Kerry about the MP3 player. It still seemed too special to let the quartet to send on it in a feeding frenzy. She wanted to listen to the music with a pure heart, not to have it questioned, harmonically analyzed, and torn apart before she had a chance to listen to it even once.

  When they finally got back to the suite, Jasmine was very grateful to be able to slide between fresh, cool, sheets and slip in the ear buds. It felt very intimate, and secret, to have this little piece of him to put between her ears… Almost to put part of him inside her. As she pressed play, to hear a ballad, her fingers began to play a little too. His voice crooned softly in her ear as her fingertips began to wander over her skin.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Leo and Nigel

  Nigel and Leo went straight to the games room, ready to hit their own bar. Nigel grabbed one of the most expensive bottles of Scotch, two glasses, and poured two hefty shots, neat.

  He handed Leo one of the drinks, and emptied the other down his throat, in one. He motioned for Leo to do the same. For once, Leo looked a little bit uncertain, but quickly followed suit, putting his glass down with a bang. That was the signal. Nigel immediately refilled the two glasses. He didn’t miss the uneasy look that Leo sent his way.

  “What’s going on with you? Something on your mind?” He sniffed and wiped his half-closed fist underneath his nose. “Something having to do with Victor I expect?”

  Leo could see that Nigel was heading for a long night. He shook his head.

  “No nothing like that,” he said. “Actually didn’t have a half-bad time tonight as it turned out.”

  “Any interesting birds there? Or did you have to hang with the dreary string quartet?”

  Oh, if only Nigel knew…better throw him off at the pass.

  “You know how these things are,” he demurred. “Filled with old ladies trying to pawn off their spinster daughters.”

  “Sounds positively awful, my man. I bet you can’t wait to go on tour next week, and get your pick of the crop every night.” Nigel made a lewd gesture in his crotch area and they both laughed.

  “Well sure, I am getting a bit antsy in this dusty place.” He took another healthy swig. “It’s never too soon to get out of here.”

  “Truer words were never spoken, my friend,” said Nigel. “Places like this are good for anyone, not even those in power, as you have so eloquently proven time and time again.” He chuckled. “Think of all the shit you’ve gotten up to, even before you joined the band. Remember when we were kids, and over Christmas each of us stole a bottle from our parents’ liquor cabinet at home, and we went marauding through the town?”

  “Breaking windows and the like? Yeah I remember. I guess we were always pieces of shit, even as kids. This sleepy town never knew what hit it.” Leo wondered what Jasmine’s childhood had been like. Did she grow up privileged, or poor? How on earth did she start playing the cello, of all things? Was she like other kids, or did she always feel different? Like he always felt?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jasmine

  Jasmine’s dreams were fitful. She’d fallen asleep with the MP3 still playing in her ears and the sound very low. But Origin of Species didn’t always play ballads – some of their stuff was pretty hard-core. And for someone who almost never listened to pop music, not to mention people who did, it was pretty intense.

  In her dreams, Leo was wailing, crying in pain as the guitar wailed along with him. He was in a straitjacket, with the arms loose and flapping instead of tied together, but he was still bound and in pain. His normally rough but indescribably handsome face was twisted as he sang, “part of this world, apart from this world, alone in this world, at one in this world…” And he kept getting smaller and smaller, further and further away. Jasmine reached out trying to grasp him, and felt the fabric of the straitjacket slip between her fingers as she fell forward and he receded. The words he was singing became a wordless scream as he disappeared finally he was just the guitar, the whammy bar ending with his hand in miniature, writhing and contorting.

  She sat up straight in bed, awakening suddenly, having forgotten where she was and she looked around in a wild panic, her own fingers clutching the sheets in anything but ecstasy. But there was nothing, not even the sound of her friends’ breathing to comfort her, as they were all scattered around the suite, nestled in their own sleeping nooks.

  Jasmine shivered. She wrapped a blanket around her, and got up to go to the kitchen, to get herself a glass of water. This jet lag is messed up, she thought. When she got into the kitchen, she was startled to see that Kerry was up as well.

  “Couldn’t sleep either, eh?” She said, a sympathetic look in her eye.

  “No. Bad dreams,” she whispered back.

  “I get it, Jasmine.” She handed her a cup of hot cocoa. “I found this in the cupboard. You can have mine, and I’ll just make another one for myself.”

  Jasmine took the mug gratefully, wrapping her hands around it for
its cozy warmth. “Thank you,” she said before sipping the sweet liquid.

  “No worries,” Kerry smiled. “You’ve been through a lot lately. I know how messing up even one note makes you get all obsessive and crazy like, and rehearsals didn’t go so great – and now on top of that, maybe you’re falling in love?”

  “In love? Are you crazy? I’m not in love. It’s just some kind of infatuation. He probably has ten thousand girls around the globe who think they’re in love with him. I’ve just never met a rock star before, much less a nobleman. I’ll get over it.”

  “What’s that that Shakespeare said? Methinks the lady doth protest too much?”

  “I’ve never been in love before. I don’t even know what it is. The only thing I’ve been in love with his my cello.”