“I’m not crying for him.”
Oh hell. He knew before she said it. Knew he didn’t want to hear it.
“I’m crying for you.”
“I survived, Lita. Don’t cry for that kid; he grew up and is doing fine.” He ran his thumb gently under her right eye, catching the last of her tears. “The day came when I was bigger and stronger, and when he went after her, I attacked him. I got in some good ones—broke his nose and bloodied his lip—before his years of brawling overcame my youth, and he beat me until I was almost unconscious.” He swallowed, the image flashing before his eyes bringing up the taste of bile while his stomach roiled. “I think he stopped so I could watch him take out his anger on my mother. A neighbor called the cops when he left, and we both spent a couple of days in the hospital.”
“Did your mother report him? Did you?”
He bit back the urge to laugh at her question. She couldn’t know what it was like. Her life in Hollywood with her parents and the Rodeo Drive man-eaters hadn’t been easy, but NYC was a totally different jungle.
“Oh, baby, you don’t get it. I learned not to trust anybody. If we had breathed his name to anybody, we would’ve been dead in twenty-four hours. In fact, knowing my old man, he was sick enough to have us killed by the cop we gave the report to. He had so many on the take. We knew it was time to go.”
“But how did you get away? Why didn’t he follow you?”
“We got lucky. He got caught just after he performed a hit, was convicted, and got life in prison, no parole. My mother and I slipped out of town for California and never went back. I was one of many bastard children he didn’t care about, except to knock me around, and he had women stashed everywhere. We took advantage of his preoccupation with his incarceration and never looked back.”
Lita stared at him, glanced back down at her notes, and back up again. He could see the million questions stewing in her head and waited patiently. He wasn’t ever going to talk about this again, so now was her chance.
“Why did no one ever report this? You guys are huge. How did someone not find out?”
“Did you ever find it? I know you looked into me and my past,” he replied, adding when she started to look defensive. “I did the same thing on you. It’s a Google world.”
“No. Not a word of this.”
“My birth certificate says the father is unknown. Cardano was my mother’s maiden name. Ultimately, my father was replaceable, one of many low-life scum, who will commit crime for a dollar, and he was forgotten… and so were we. I kept waiting for someone from the old neighborhood to say something, but it wasn’t as if my father claimed us when we were there.”
“But this guy…Jerry Prentiss…he wants to sell the story. I told him that I needed to check some facts to stall him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going somewhere else.”
He stood, knowing exactly where this was going. “Let him. I don’t care what they print. I’m not talking about it anyway.”
She popped to her feet, waving the pad of paper in his face. “You aren’t going to do anything? Go to court? Get an injunction to stop him.”
“No way. I’m not giving on-the-record testimony about this. Not a chance.” He huffed out a bitter laugh. “That’s the only way to stop him. People are going to believe what they want. I’m not pouring my guts on national television or some bullshit like that.”
“Shouldn’t they get the truth? From you?” She flipped through the pages of notes. “We’ve got to move fast. This is a career-making story. Any reporter worth their journalism degree is going to latch onto it and milk it for everything it’s worth. I would kill for a story like this. All we have to do is—”
And then he remembered who he was talking to. Fuck, he’d gotten so wrapped up in the sex and the fun that he’d forgotten what Lita would do for her career. She’d even taken notes. He’d been spilling his guts, and she was chasing a story.
“Wow. The tears were the perfect touch. You totally had me.”
Lita stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, confusion messing up the pretty tilt of her mouth. “What?”
“You really should have gone into acting like your dad wanted. That was quite a performance.” Rocky advanced on her, slowly, deliberately. He clenched his hands into tight balls that hurt with his effort to maintain control. “Now, you can take your notes and your shit and get the hell out.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Cut the crap, Lita. You just said that this was a story any reporter would kill for, and I just handed it to you on a silver platter.” He turned and stalked over to the door, opened it, and gave her the “move your ass along” gesture. “Congratulations, sweetheart, you got me. I totally forgot what we were doing here. I hope you get that TV show with this one.”
“Now just wait a goddam second,” she said, her cheeks now flush with the rush of her obvious anger.
But he’d been down this road with her before. How many times was he going to get sucked in by what she made him feel and want. God, he felt like a jackass. A few days with her, a couple of nights in her bed, and he’d completely forgotten his own rules.
“We’ve done this dance before, and honestly, I’m not interested. Just get out.” He opened the door wider. “Now.”
Lita stared at him from across the room, her shock at his cutting to the chase keeping her rooted to the spot. After a few seconds longer, she recovered enough to lean down and grab her bag off the floor, pausing only to stuff her notes into her bag. She straightened to her full height, placed the bag on her shoulder, and walked past him, never once making eye contact.
He took her silence as admission that he was right. Rocky resisted the urge to reach out, grab her by the arms, and shake her until he understood why she had to keep doing this to them. To him.
The past few days had been just a replay of Mexico; the pathetic part was how he’d hoped that the ending could be different. He’d thought that maybe they had a future together—at least a shot at one—and all she’d wanted was a story.
Well, at least one of them had gotten what they wanted.
Lita stopped in the opening, just far enough inside the door to stop him from shutting it and her out.
“No.”
Rocky stared, her one word statement failing to process.
Lita took his silence as another opening to reiterate, this time turning to him and grabbing the edge of the door. He was so surprised by her response that he let her yank the door out of his hand, the slam of the large wooden slab punctuating her final word.
“No.”
And then she kissed him.
Chapter Twelve
She was furious.
Lita dropped her bag to the floor, not caring about the ominous clunk of her laptop. She could buy another one, but if she walked through the door, she would never get another chance with this man.
And she wanted a chance with him like she wanted to get the nighttime anchor spot at Entertainment Nightly, her dream job. Rocky was her dream man, every grumpy, judgmental, overbearing, surly, sweet, and sexy part of him.
Rocky tried to push her away, but she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as much as she could with his own lips rigid under her own. She knew how to fix that problem. She loosened her hold on his neck, trailing one hand down his chest, down his body, until she could stroke the hard length of his cock through his jeans.
Rocky groaned at her touch, and she was in. His mouth was hot, and she took her time exploring him with her tongue, lips rubbing softly against his, millions of unspoken questions on them. He remained passive for a few moments longer, and Lita wondered if he would ever respond when he groaned darkly, his hands snaking around her hips, cupping her ass, and hauling her closer.
She allowed the kiss to linger, giving both of them the time they needed to get ready for round two, because she knew it was going to be messy, ugly, and potentially, the end of them.
Lita pulled back, releasing him
from her grasp but standing in between him and the door. With the wary look on his face, he just might decide to bolt and become invisible again. But no way—never—she’d seen him, and he could never hide from her now.
“You need to listen to me—”
“No, I—”
“Shut up.”
Rocky’s eyes went wide. He heard the steel in her voice and decided to be a good boy. Good decision.
“This is where I left in Mexico, and I never got to explain myself, and we lost four years. I’ll be damned if I let you do that to us again.”
“Us?” he croaked.
Oh my God. The man was clueless.
“Yes. Us.” She was getting wound up now and needed to walk, or she might explode with her anger and frustration. “Newsflash, Rocky. There is an us. There has always been an us. And I will not let this end like it did before.” Lita stopped herself, considering carefully what she was going to say, what she was going to admit. “I care about you, and seeing you hurt by some asshole is the last thing I will ever let happen. I came to you to help you figure out how you wanted to beat this guy to the punch. I don’t want the story. I couldn’t write the story with how I feel about you.”
She took a breath, losing steam now that she’d recited her major points and received no response from him. The silence in the room was heavy, but she bore the weight, knowing the next step was his. She couldn’t drag him kicking and screaming with her; she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life apologizing for one mistake.
“How do you feel about me?” he asked, the last question she expected to come from him, especially at a moment like this.
“I’m nuts about you. Always have been. Since that first night in the bar.” She sunk down on the sofa, the impact of what she was confessing making her knees weak. She’d lost the power of her anger, but knowing him, he’d get her there again soon enough. For now, she would enjoy the calm. “And don’t get the big head, but every guy I’ve been with since then has been seriously lacking, and it’s all your fault.”
She looked up at him then, catching the hint of a smile on his lips. Lita pointed a finger at him in warning. “If you laugh at me, I will kill you. I swear it.”
“I’m not laughing,” he answered simply, the tilt of his mouth remaining in spite of her threat.
“Good, because you have to do something, and you can’t do it if you’re dead. You can’t let him break this story.”
Rocky sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets, a glare taking over his expression. “I don’t want to sit in a chair and pour my guts out to some douchebag. I never talk about this with anyone. The only people in the world who know the whole story are you and Dash.”
She heard him, but he had to hear the reasons why he needed to reconsider. What she was going to propose went against every fiber of her training as a reporter. She should be breaking this story, calling Russ and telling him to standby for a feature that would blow the ratings off of anything they’d had in a year. By not telling him, she was putting her job at risk, hell, she was putting her career at risk, because if this got out, she’d be dead in the Hollywood scene for a very long time. Nobody wanted a journalist who deliberately killed a story.
But this was Rocky.
Her Rocky.
“You could control the spin,” she said.
“This is all in the past. My past.”
“And it’s being sold to the highest bidder whether you like it or not.”
That moved him over to her where he hit his knees on the floor. Rocky gave her one pained look and then wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her lap. She acted on instinct, weaving her hands in his hair, leaning over him as if she could protect him from the shit-storm that was coming.
“I don’t want people to know all that stuff about my mom. She was just a dumb kid who fell for the wrong guy.” His voice cracked a little bit at that one, and Lita’s heart seized in pain for him. She understood so much about him now, why he was so ferocious in protecting those he cared about. He was still the brave kid who’d come out swinging and stood between a monster and his mother. He was still trying to protect her.
“Rocky, you can protect her better if you tell her story first.” She pressed a kiss to his neck. It was warm, and she nuzzled against him. “I know you don’t want to, but you really don’t have a choice.”
She didn’t know how long they sat there like that. He had to work it out in his head. A lifetime spent being invisible was hard to overcome. She wished he had more time to get there, but time was running out. Prentiss would shop the story until he got a bite. Hell, he was probably on the phone with another network right now.
“I want you to interview me,” he said, his muffled voice rough and raw. When she didn’t respond, he raised his head and looked at her with fierce determination. “Only you.”
“Baby, I don’t think I can.” She caressed his cheek, loving the soft tickle of his beard on her palm. Damn, he was handsome, all hard angles and strength. “And I don’t want any doubt between us about why I’m here with you.”
Rocky stilled at her words, grabbing her hand and pressing a hot kiss to her palm. He could be so damn sweet when he wanted to be, and even more so when he had no clue that he was laying on the seductive charm, like now.
He lifted his face to hers, his eyes cloudy with pain. “I don’t want to be on camera with anyone else. If I’m gonna lose my shit on national television…”
“That isn’t what I had in mind at all.”
“No? What’s your idea?”
“A simple press release. Just the facts you want to tell and released by your publicist, Jules. No interview. No questions. And you can spend the rest of forever saying ‘no comment.’”
When she’d figured out what the call was about, this plan had jumped into her brain almost immediately. The perfect solution for a media-shy celebrity like Rocky. There would be follow-up questions and articles about it in every media outlet within a week, but this would give him time to accept that he might need to give an interview. Or he could do what he did best—ignore all of it. Eventually, the media and the public would get bored and move on.
Essere invisible.
Lita’s heart broke for that little boy. Scared. Helpless. No, ultimately not helpless. He’d bravely fought his father to protect his mother. Risked it all for her.
What she wouldn’t give to have his intensity, all that affection focused on her. Rocky was the one person who didn’t care about all the Hollywood bullshit. She’d never have to guess why he was with her, why he loved her.
Oh no. She was getting ahead of herself. She’d practically confessed her love for him, and all she’d received in return was a raised eyebrow and a few tender moments. Not a profession of love…she hadn’t even received a reciprocal confession of any feelings toward her.
This was just like Mexico all over again. She was falling, and he was fooling around.
“Let’s do it,” Rocky said, bringing her back to the present and his problem.
“The press release?”
“Yes.”
…
Three hours later, he ignored Lita as she paced his room waiting for him to complete the final read of the press release.
It sucked. Not Lita’s drafting— it was a thing of factual beauty and artful omission of any of the unnecessary dirt—but the existence of such a document sucked big, hairy balls. Years of avoiding telling this story, thinking of everything resurrected from the grave by his asshole father. For once, he was glad his mother wasn’t here to see all this dragged up in the press.
He didn’t kid himself— this was going to be a mess. But Lita’s plan was a good one, and it gave him the upper hand from the beginning. What he chose to do from here on out was his call. Thanks to Lita.
He’d almost kicked her out. Almost made the same mistake as the one four years ago. He knew he could be such an ass sometimes, and this was one of the worst moments. Rocky flinched at the thought of how cl
ose he’d come to messing this up beyond repair. Now he had to make it up to her, let her know she wasn’t alone in this. She’d told him how she felt about him, and he owed her the same. He wanted her to know.
“I’m cool with this.” He gestured toward the screen. “Let’s press send and watch the fur fly. Send it to Jules and all the guys in the band. I don’t want them to hear about it secondhand.”
“It won’t be that bad,” Lita said as she took over driving the computer.
A few taps of the keys, a press on the mouse, and a click, and it was gone. On its way to his publicist who was still amazed at what he’d asked her to do. He actually couldn’t remember a time when he’d requested her services, and they had both been thrown by the request. She actually didn’t think this was the best way to handle this, but had known it was useless to fight him.
“Yes, it will.”
She looked up at him, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “You’re right. It’s going to be a blood bath.” She stood and shuffled over, sitting down on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ll be here. Anything you need, just ask.”
“Well I won’t be here,” he said, pushing back a dark curl from her face, tucking it back into the clippy thing trying, but failing, to hold back the tumble of heavy, silky hair. “I’m taking a short overnight trip.”
“Where? It better be close. The wedding’s in two days. If you miss it, Callie will have—”
He leaned in and claimed her mouth, pleased when she opened to him immediately. Fuck, but she was sweet and sexy and everything he needed and wanted. She pushed his buttons, challenged him, fought him, and when she loved him with her body, he was transported to a place where pleasure was like air.
Lita snuggled in closer, the hot cleft of her ass cradling his hard-as-stone dick and making his eyes cross. Her lush breasts were pressed against his chest, and all he wanted to do was peel off her ridiculously expensive lingerie and lick, suck, and worship them until she came. He wanted her in his bed when he did it, not another random place in a hotel. His bed.
Playing With the Drummer Page 10
