The Rock Star's Virginity (Romance Island Resort #3)

by Demelza Carlton

  The Rock Star's Virginity

  DEMELZA CARLTON

  Book 3

  of the

  Romance Island Resort series

  Six weeks away from marrying her high-school sweetheart, Flavia's life seemed perfect…right up until her fiancé cheated on her. In the spirit of revenge, she auctions her virginity to the highest bidder. One night and the rules are simple: no names, no kissing and definitely no romance.

  Until Flavia arrives at Romance Island Resort, and meets the rock star who makes her want to break all the rules.

  He's already won her virginity, but will he win her heart as well?

  DEDICATION

  This book is for Julie and Tracy, two travel agents in the right place at the right time.

  Without them, this book would never have been written, for dead authors tell no tales.

  Thank you.

  Copyright © 2015 Demelza Carlton

  Lost Plot Press

  All rights reserved.

  Sign up for Demelza's VIP reader group and get one of her books for FREE.

  Click here to get started – www.demelzacarlton.com

  One

  "Only six weeks left until you get your happily ever after. Better get that arse in perfect shape, so that hot man of yours won't be able to keep his hands off it. By the time I'm done with you, he'll be begging to spank you. Come do cardio on the treadmills with me," Violet insisted, tugging on Flavia's towel-laden arm. "Pilates works your core, but you'll need stamina for your wedding night. You and James can thank me later."

  "No spanking and definitely no kink allowed at my wedding night." Flavia snorted. "And my stamina's just fine. I spent over an hour chasing Mum's new, stupid horse through the bush paddock yesterday. I've told Dad to get higher fences to keep him in, but until he does, the minute something spooks him, he's up and over the fence, and I have to catch him before he runs onto the road or something. I'll talk to you while I do my stretches, but then I have to go the hairdresser's to book an appointment for my trial. I told them my hair won't curl, but David says otherwise."

  "You aren't married yet? What's taking so long?" teased Robbie the personal trainer as he wandered past. "When's your bachelorette party? I heard you were looking for a stripper."

  Violet laughed. "I wanted one, but you're out of luck. Flavia won't have any strippers at her hen's night. Besides, we're leaving the country. We're having a week in Bali, just the bride and her bridesmaids. Cocktails by the beach, daily massages, the works." She winked at Flavia. "Our expert travel agent here knows all the best places and what to do where."

  Robbie didn't seem to be listening. "I bet her boyfriend will have strippers at his bachelor party. If the best man doesn't book strippers, he's not doing his job properly. Of course, sometimes he does his job too well. Check out this guy. He organised his mate's buck's night, but he didn't get a stripper." Robbie whipped out his phone and swiped at the screen until he appeared satisfied. "Here he is. This guy hired a prostitute for his mate's buck's night, then got him so drunk that he passed out before he could enjoy his gift. So the best man, taking his role very seriously in the most traditional way, stood in for the groom and gave it to her instead." He held out his phone for the girls to see.

  Violet squinted at the screen. "Bit blurry. You can't see much."

  Flavia leaned over and nodded in agreement. She could just make out the couple – one with enormous boobs and the other looked vaguely male. He wore a watch that looked a little like the one she'd bought James.

  Robbie swiped the screen. "How about now? He was really banging her."

  Flavia's heart stopped. The sordid shot showed far more than she wanted to see. A girl with too much makeup and a fake grin plastered on her face bent over someone's dining table, while a man who looked frighteningly like James ploughed into her from behind. It couldn't be – surely it was just a coincidence. Some other bloke who just looked like James. James had been on a pub crawl with his mates on Saturday, not a buck's night. It couldn't be him, and if she only looked harder, she'd see that.

  "Do 'er, mate! Just like you'll do your hot little Vee on your wedding night!" one of the onlookers slurred.

  Hot little Vee?

  Flavia stared at the screen, unable to look away. She recognised the watch he wore. His favourite pub crawl t-shirt, the one with a sozzled frog on the front, wrinkling with every thrust. When he pulled back, she glimpsed that mole beside his treasure trail that no one but she had ever seen…

  "That's disgusting. I can't believe you filmed a couple having sex," Violet snapped.

  Robbie shrugged, his eyes still firmly turned toward the screen. "Wasn't me. Someone stuck this up on the internet and I only saw it when someone showed Davo what he might've missed out on, drinking too much on his buck's night."

  Violet's cheeks turned an angry shade of pink. "Whatever. Put it away, Robbie,"

  Flavia couldn't think. Couldn't speak. How could James…

  She found herself standing outside in the rain, with no memory of leaving the building, as Violet thrust her gym bag at her.

  "Are you all right?" Violet asked. "You never forget your stuff. You're Miss Organised. No one else could have handled that last ash cloud nightmare the way you did when your manager was away AND earned Rookie of the Year at the National Travel Industry Awards. Fifty stranded exchange students, all home in time for the start of term. They created the category for you. Your wedding is going to be the best-planned event since the last royal wedding."

  Flavia laughed bitterly. "Even if the groom's been banging prostitutes behind my back while promising he'll save himself for marriage, like I am?"

  Violet's eyebrows flew up into her fringe. "James? I don't believe it. I know that picture looked a little bit like him, sure, but it couldn't be him. He has a doppelganger who – "

  "Wears the same shirt and watch, and has an identical birthmark to James?" Flavia's voice shook. "It's him. I'd know him anywhere, Vi."

  Violet grabbed Flavia's shoulders and looked deep into her soul, even if the view was blurred by the bride-to-be's rapidly multiplying tears. "If it is James – and I'm not saying it is, seeing as I didn't get a very good look at Robbie's phone and it was a bad picture anyway – what are you going to do?"

  "I don't know. Call off the wedding, call the police…can you get arrested for sleeping with a prostitute? I know it's illegal in America. Go over to his house, key the paintwork on his car and slash all the upholstery, then drive it into the river. No, first I'm going to get laid. Then I'm going to tell him I'm not a virgin any more, before I trash his precious baby." Flavia let out a shaky laugh. "Listen to me – I'm so angry I'm trying to plan grand theft auto and I can't even do that right."

  "Okay – first, prostitution isn't illegal in Australia. Not for the girls who do it or the guys who pay them. Murder is illegal, though, and so's damaging his car. So no police and no cutting." Violet took a deep breath. "I want you to go straight home. If you want to steal cars, I'll borrow one of my brother's computer games and you can play that all night, if you like. If you're seriously looking to get laid, promise me you'll wait for the weekend, or at least until you've talked to James. Promise me, girl." Violet's eyes pinned her.

  Flavia sighed. "All right, I promise. It's not like I'd know how to pick up a guy anyway. It feels like James and I have been together forever. Now, I don't know what to do."

  "You and James will work this out, you'll see. Now: home, dinner, distraction, then bed. In that order."

  Flavia nodded numbly. How could anyone work out a future this shattered? One thing she knew for sure: when she did come
up with a plan, it would be all about revenge. No one ripped her heart out and got away with it unscathed. Not even James.

  Two

  What do you say to a man who's just lost his wife?

  For the first time in her life, Xan didn't know what to do. So she stood at the head of the Penguin jetty, a bottle of rum dangling from her hand, as she stared at the forlorn figure sitting on the end. Finally, she said, "I brought you something."

  "You don't even like me. What are you doing here?" Jay asked over his shoulder, not looking at Xan. His gaze was fixed on the horizon and the incoming tide, which would soon turn the precipitous drop at his feet into gently lapping waves.

  He wasn't seriously considering jumping, was he?

  Xan marched along the jetty. "Truce, please. I swear. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy." No, this was exactly what she'd wish on that faithless wanker, Jerome. "Okay, well maybe him, but not you. I believed that girl was everything she said she was, same as you. I keep thinking it's some sort of horrible mistake. A case of mistaken identity, or something! Are you sure she's really…that she really…"

  "What? That she's a triple murderer who killed not only her husband, but two backpackers, too? A black widow, my sister tells me, who confessed to her crimes the moment she saw the police. And I was her next target. Luckily for me, Phuong's husband isn't dead, so she's not even really my wife. She's still going to be represented by my legal team, though. The band's lawyers and PR people cut a deal with her. If she keeps me out of all the proceedings and pleads guilty to everything she did, we'll pay for her legal fees through the whole court case. And no further contact with me, ever. She didn't even hesitate. Fuck." He grabbed the bottle from Xan's hand, wrenched off the cap and gulped the contents. "A week ago, I was happily married to a woman I loved, or at least I thought I did. Now, my sister says I didn't really know her at all. A murderer, and everything we had together was…fucking fiction. I thought she was genuinely traumatised and now I'm supposed to believe it was all a lie? Fuck." He took another swig from the rum bottle.

  "Your sister – Jo – she called and asked me to remind you that your security specialist advises against any further contact with Phuong. Any contact will mean she has to foot her own legal bills." Xan sat on the boards, dangling her legs over the side of the jetty. "You know, I was as taken in by her as you were. I thought she was for real, too. But if she's that good an actress, then maybe it's all part of the act to lull you into a false sense of security before she…well, does her thing."

  "It doesn't matter how many times I hear it, I still don't believe it. You know she asked to see me before the police took her away? Five minutes, and she'd never bother me again, she said. They told her I'd said no, but they never fucking told me until after she flew away. She was so calm until they loaded her into the helicopter. Then she started screaming about how she'd never intended to hurt me. Her husband had deserved everything he got and she'd do it all again, but not to me. Never to me. Fuck knows what's true any more. I don't. You know how she tried to kill her last husband?" Jay offered her the rum.

  Xan squinted down the neck of the bottle, wondering what diseases Jay had, then decided she didn't care right now. She drank. Burned sugar blazed down her throat.

  Jay continued, "She tried to make it look like an accident. The poor bastard's allergic to peanuts, so she poisoned him with peanut oil. It would've worked, too, if she hadn't left him. When he discovered she was gone, he called the police and while he was on the emergency hotline he went into anaphylactic shock. If she'd stayed with him for another half hour, he'd be dead, but she ran, like she panicked. She must've driven for days without sleep to get here in the time she did. Makes me think she was right and the bastard did deserve whatever he got." Jay's fist pounded the boards. "I don't care what anyone says. I know what I saw. The fear in her eyes was real. Just like the look in Angel's eyes. You can't fake that."

  "So what are you going to do?" The moment the words were out of her mouth, Xan regretted them. What could he do?

  Jay's lips lifted in a mirthless grin. "Do what she wants. Give her the best lawyers money can buy and hope they can help her. And…stay away from her, because that's what she wants. Wouldn't be the first time a rape survivor threatened me with death or permanent injury. I should be used to it by now. But even if everything's true, I could never trust her again, because in the back of my mind, I'll always wonder…" He snatched back the bottle and chugged it, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "I don't want to die. There's shit I haven't done yet. Like get married, seeing as the first time didn't count."

  Xan's heart breathed a sigh of relief. She'd done her bit and talked him off the proverbial ledge, even if his backside hadn't budged. Now she could go back to disliking him as wholeheartedly as before. "Maybe next time you should try finding a girl who isn't married and hasn't killed anyone, or at least ask her first."

  Jay snorted. "When she could lie? I'd need a fucking virgin. Even then, she still might be a murderer."

  Xan shrugged. "Love's always a gamble. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose." Yes, Jay had had monumentally bad luck lately, but he'd still come out on top. Damn it, why couldn't it be her turn to win for once? She wished Jay good night and headed for the hotel manager's house on the other side of the lagoon. Tonight she'd cook her own dinner. She didn't feel cheerful enough to brave the staff dining room with her heart so heavy. Maybe she'd break out some more of that rum for herself, because the little, nagging voice in her head insisted that if someone with all Jay's rock star charms couldn't be lucky in love, what hope did she have in finding a happily ever after?

  Three

  "Morning, Vee. How are your plans for the perfect wedding coming?" James' half-asleep morning voice sounded sexier than it had any right to. Especially when she was mad at him.

  "Fine," Flavia lied. What else could she answer? It wasn't like she could say she'd seen a video of him having sex with a prostitute, so she hadn't done a thing about their wedding. She'd been too busy exploring options for revenge. True to her promise to Violet, she hadn't yet decided on a plan.

  She'd waited all week until she felt her fury had simmered down enough for her to be civil on the phone. Only now could she say calmly, "Are you coming up today? I really want to see you."

  "Aww, I miss you, too, Vee. No can do. I have to go to the auto auction today. There's a few clapped-out classics the boss wants me to keep an eye out for – ones that were stolen and trashed. He figures they'll go for a steal and we can use the parts for our other clients." The passion in James' voice was unmistakeable. If only he loved her half as much as he loved classic cars.

  "Tomorrow, then?" she persisted. She couldn't ask him over the phone. She needed to look into his eyes and know he wasn't lying when he told her the man banging the prostitute in the video wasn't him.

  "Sorry, nope. Tomorrow I have to pick up whatever we win in the auction. Dazza's got the lift truck booked, because he's hoping to pick up one of the repossessed cars they're selling at the auction. A Holden, of all things. I've told him, he should be looking at classic Fords, like my Fairlane, but noooo…he wants that bloody Holden. I told him it's only the insurance company write-offs that go for a song, and he'll have to pay a premium if he wants the pristine queen of someone's private collection."

  Pristine queen? An idea began to form in Flavia's mind. "What do you mean?"

  "He's got his eye on this Sandman. Beautiful car, for a Holden. Seized by the police on her maiden voyage, speeding down the freeway. I bet the owner's pissed. Outside, the paint's red as the devil when he's wet and under the bonnet…shit, the devil himself would cream at the power. Brand-new everything and the sound of that engine…the vibration alone makes chicks' clothes fall off." James snorted. "Every man under fifty will want that baby and the bidding will go sky-high. Ha, I bet a few babies have been conceived in the back of that. Panel van big enough to stretch out in. It's a shagging wagon for sure. Alloy wheels, custom paint job, e
xhaust that you'll feel in your bones before you hear it…"

  As James waxed lyrical about a car Flavia couldn't care less about, her mind drifted into the realm of possibilities. Auctions, bidding wars and maidens. It was perfect.

  "How'd your pub crawl go last week?" she blurted out. "Did it go off with a bang, like you said it would?"

  Silence for a moment. Finally, James said, "You mean the one for Davo? I left early. I wasn't feeling the best, so I had one drink, but I went home after the first pub."

  On Sunday, he'd said he couldn't come over because he'd had a hangover from drinking too much. Flavia smelt a rat. One who wore James' favourite deodorant.

  "Oh. One of the guys at the gym said he saw you with them pretty late. He said you were all drunk."

  James hesitated for much too long before he let out a shaky laugh that sounded forced. "Nah, I was sick. Flu."

  Liar. When James had the flu, he always called her to take care of him. His flu bouts never lasted less than a week. The bastard had slept with that prostitute and now he was lying to her about it.

  Flavia opened her mouth to spit out her accusation.

  "Anyway, gotta go, Vee, or I'll be late to the auction. See you next weekend, maybe." James ended the call without waiting for her to say goodbye.

  Or good riddance.

  If James wanted an auction, she'd give him one. A bidding war from every man under fifty? Bring it on. She'd make his precious cars look cheap by comparison.

  Four

  Jason climbed into the helicopter, feeling a momentary pang when he remembered the last time he'd flown with Phuong. The pilot had told him there was no sex allowed in the helicopter. Well, fuck it, Jason decided. One day he was going to have sex in a fucking helicopter. He was a member of the mile high club many times over. That meant…special privileges, or some shit like that. Fucking helicopter sex, at the least. But not with Phuong, and not with the pilot, either.