by Virna DePaul
“What?” I asked, not even sure I’d heard him correctly. Oh God, maybe I was having some weird hallucination or seizure. Everything he was saying was far more than I deserved, especially after how much I’d whipped him back and forth and confused the hell out of him. “I don’t understand.”
“Look, I was hurt and upset and confused, otherwise I never would have let you walk out of my hotel room. I never would have gotten on a plane to New York. I’m here now, but I miss you. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too,” I whispered, blinking fast to hold back my tears.
“Yeah? Because well, I talked to Liam. I told him my concerns, that I want to write songs, that I want to sing, and he’s on board. You helped me gather the courage to do that, Nikki.”
“That’s not true, you would have done it eventually. You go after what you want, Tucker, even if you sometimes falter.”
As soon as I said the words, I held my breath. Then he said, “I want you, Nikki. I want to come back to you. I’m going to buy a ticket back to Paris, and then we can talk, okay?”
For a few second I couldn’t breathe. I felt hot tears sting my cheeks, and I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. It was everything I’d wanted, someone stable and kind who loved me, who really supported me, and even though Tucker hadn’t said he loved me, that’s how I interpreted what he was saying. Tucker was the first good guy I’d had in my life who seemed to believe in me.
But he deserved better. I’d realized that the morning I’d stumbled out of his hotel room, and hearing the warmth and genuine concern in his voice even after all I’d put him through just confirmed it.
“You don’t have to come back, Tucker. Not right now.”
“Nik, you don’t need to test me. I’m coming back, I promise.”
“No, you were right. You were the dose of truth and tough love I needed. You made a great point. I need to get help. I have a lot of issues that I haven’t been dealing with. But I will. First, I’m redoing my show. I pushed it to the very last possible slot at the fashion event. I don’t want to be Dominique Lorenz: Designer Out To Shock. I want to be Nikki, and I want to create the fashions I really care about, the classic lines and the substance with the pizazz and the flair.”
“I…that’s great, but we can still be together.”
“No, Tucker. Not yet. I need to get help first. Maybe then I’ll deserve you. I hope you’ll wait for me, that you’ll want to be with me when I’m better, but I’m so lost, and I have to find myself again before I can be anything for you. Who I find might not be who you want, so you don’t have to make any promises until you meet the best possible me I can be.”
He laughed again. “If you’re willing to get help, then you already are the best possible you, Nikki. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”
“I hope so,” I added, scared shitless. The life of a rock star was far more fast-paced and exciting than even that of a designer. Tucker really could mean that he’d wait for me, but then in a month or two he could be in Prague or Vienna or London and see an adoring fan with a perfect figure and start thinking, “Nikki who?”
But I had to get better for myself. There was no question I loved Tucker now; I was going to work on loving me.
“Au revoir, Tucker. I hope I’ll see you soon.”
“Nikki, wait—”
I clicked off the call. I didn’t have the strength to stay on the line. If I did talk for any longer, I was positive that I was going to break down and beg him to come back to Paris. I had to be strong.
But I also had an idea, something that would give Tucker a little piece of me while he waited for me to get better. Something to show just how much hope and strength he’d given me. It didn’t matter whether my show flopped or the critics loved me. Either way, I’d be okay.
Shoving my phone in my pants’ pocket, I rushed into Cristobal’s main office. I was going to add a few designs to Cristobal’s workload. Designs for the man who’d inspired me: Tucker.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tucker
After talking to Nikki, I spent over a week in New York, longer than I’d intended because Wes and Corbin had come for a visit. But in between rebonding with my band mates, I kept up with news about Nikki, and there was plenty of it. Sites mentioned how wild child Nikki Lorenz had moved her show to the absolute last spot of the Paris fashion event. Many made snide digs, saying she’d gotten cold feet or had messed up in some way. But I knew what she was planning. Nikki was going to buck all the pressure she’d been under and abandon all the extreme designs (or most of them). She needed all the time she could get if she was going to get her best stuff up and ready for the show.
Two days ago, she’d sent a special package to me in New York. Actually, she’d sent quite a few. When I opened the first box, I was excited to see some kickass motorcycle boots. But she hadn’t stopped there. I don’t know how she’d done it or how many cobbler elves she’d had to bribe to help her with everything, but she’d sent an array of shoes and boots, from motorcycle to casual to dressy. They were awesome; everything I knew Nik was capable of.
Hell, I was wearing them now. Because I was damn proud of her.
I was also done listening to her.
Since I’d left Paris, there’d been an emptiness inside me that I just couldn’t stand any longer. Nikki had told me to wait until she was her best self before I came to her, but in blunt terms, fuck that. I’d never be my best self. Neither was she. The point was that it was when we were together that we at least had our best shot.
Which is why I was currently back in the City of Lights. I exited my cab, which I’d taken from the fancy hotel me, the boys, and Abby had checked into. Because when I’d told them I was headed here, they’d all gotten it into their heads that they had to come too. They wanted to meet Nikki. And I didn’t even argue with them. Because I wanted that too.
I strolled into the warehouse space that Nikki had been working out since she’d arrived in Paris. Since her show was only a day away now, I expected to see her scurrying about in every corner with dark circles under her eyes and tons of assistants hunched over racks, organizing and labeling shoes.
That’s not what I found and it made my blood run cold.
Hermes was sitting at a desk in the far corner of the quiet and eerily abandoned work space. In his hand was a tumbler of Scotch.
“What happened?”
“Tucker,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “She was doing so well before you came into her life.”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t,” I replied, holding my hands up and trying to show him that I was on everyone’s side. I just wanted to help Nikki, and the last thing I expected was to walk into her shop and have it look like it was closed for business. “But I’m not the bad guy you think I am either, Herm.”
He stood then, and maybe I needed to watch my mouth, at least a little bit. He was taller than I realized, maybe close to 6’5 and I glared back at him. If some Eurotrash douche wanted to throw down with me, then that was his choice. I’d had more than my fair share of fights out on the strip, and I kind of liked the idea of seeing Hermes with a split lip or spitting out some teeth. Anything to make him less coiffed and in control.
“It’s Hermes,” he said, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “Before arriving here, she was on the right track and being responsible. Then you show up, and she starts trying to throw herself off the damn Eiffel Tower and crowd surfing while drunk at Sacre Bleu. I can’t help but think you’re exactly what sent her over the edge.”
I balled my right hand into a fist at my side. “I wasn’t all of it. I tried to help her. Which is more than I can say for that Ice Queen megabitch that she calls a mother.”
Hermes relaxed and took a few steps back. “Anna hired me, but I can’t agree more. My loyalties lie with Dominique and always have. I want to keep her safe.”
“You care more than the usual minder or babysitter, don’t you?” I asked. “This isn’t just about a paycheck
. There would be easier jobs to take than looking after Nik and we both know it.”
He nodded. “I do care about her, and she knows that. I wanted more from her, but she turned me down. I’ve never seen Dominique care about someone the way she does about you. I’d hate you for that, if it didn’t matter so much to me that she be happy. That’s what I really want for her.”
“Then why is everything like a ghost town? This is nuts. I know she’s been revamping her designs. She even sent me some great boots from her new line. I mean, how did we go from that to you basically hunched over in a dark room and drinking pain into your liver? What the hell, man?”
“You’re not exactly delicate with your sentiments, are you Mr. Bennington.”
“It’s ‘Benning,’” I corrected. “It’s hard not to know that when Point Break is basically one of the biggest bands on the planet right now.”
“Oh so you’re not breaking up. I suppose I heard wrong.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re super upset about that, Mr. Salt ‘n Pepper.”
He gave me a wry grin. “I might feel I had more of a chance if you were no longer a rock god, yes.”
“Or maybe she’s not into dating someone her dad’s age,” I huffed. “Seriously, I talked to Nikki not too long ago and she seemed fine. She was really adamant that she’d be going to therapy after this.”
“I know. That’s why I finally told the megabitch as you called her that I quit. She’s the reason for all this.”
“Anna?” I asked, balling my hands up at my sides again.
I know that hitting a woman is completely off the table, and I’ve never been that guy. Still, I was sick of seeing how much Nikki’s mom was ruining her. Couldn’t we just have the bitch locked up already? How could her constant jabs, even if Nik was twenty-seven, be seen as anything other than child abuse?
“Yes, her mother was on a tear. She came in a few days ago and yelled at Dominique over changing her date and all the criticism that Anna’s been getting on her so-called wayward daughter. Then she insulted her ‘mundane and pedestrian’ new designs. Nikki was bereft. After her mother left, she threatened to call off the show but she settled for scrapping the new designs. She’s going back to the extreme look since that’s what everyone expects of her.”
“So Anna got a stick up her ass and decided to take it all out on Nik?” I growled.
“She undid everything. I saw the work that Dominique’s done and I watched how hard her people have worked. The shoes would have been wonderful,” he said, gesturing to the boots on my feet. “But you already know that. She rushed to get your shoes done first, would barely have had time to finish the shoes for the show, but as it is now, they’re not done. They can’t be at this point.”
“Shit! Wait a minute,” I said, snapping my fingers. “I’ve got it.”
“Got what? Gotten on my last nerve?” Hermes snapped.
“No, I have an idea to help with Nikki’s show. Maybe there’s not enough time to finish all her shoes for the show, but there’s time to finish a few, isn’t there?”
“Possibly,” Hermes said with a frown.
“Hermes, if you care about Nikki like you say you do, I need the number for the shoe sewers—”
“Cobblers.”
“Same thing, whatever. But I have a big plan, and Nikki’s show is going on and it’s going to be awesome. There’s nothing all three of us want more than to shove it to her mother. So get me whatever cobble stuff I need and tell me if Nik’s back at her place. I’m going to save the day, here, Herm.”
He rolled his eyes but handed me a few business cards. “These are the best cobblers and leather smiths in the city. If you need to convince them, tell them the favor is for me and I’ll pay them back. I don’t like you.”
“No, really?” I asked, taking the cards from him. “I guess you can tell that the feeling is mutual.”
“Indeed, but if you can really help Dominique, then I hope your plans work, Tucker. They’re our best hope.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nikki
I felt gutted.
I was sitting in my dressing room, and counting down less than two hours to go before my first (and probably last) solo show in Paris was set to debut. The last few days had been a total whirlwind. After Mother had snuck into my shop to scream at me about how embarrassing it was for her that I’d delayed my show, I’d tried so hard to figure out why she’d always disapproved of me. It wasn’t just about my dad. She’d treated me poorly for years before that. It had probably started in the womb because I’d caused her to gain weight. As a child, I’d been too loud and too messy. As a teen, I always put too much on my plate at brunches and fancy dinners. Then, after I’d become a wild child, that had been easy. I’d been a disgrace. Now I was past twenty-seven, and nothing had changed. She couldn’t see or maybe she didn’t want to see that I wasn’t that same rebellious girl.
I’d meant what I said to Tucker, even with this set back. I was still going to get help. But I’d stupidly stopped production on my new designs, and even if I hadn’t, I no longer felt confident about them. I just had to get through this show, and that meant using my old designs. Maybe it was for the best.
Well-made leather boots or heels handcrafted with love and the best of materials just wouldn’t grab headlines and attention like the sky high platforms and other things I designed.
But after the show, I’d be heading back to the States. And I’d be doing it after I cut ties with my mother. All I wanted was never to deal with her again. If that put me in some self-styled boutique in the middle of nowhere in the United States, just me and my own small shop outside of the spotlight, then so be it. I’d do it while pursuing therapy and getting healthier. There was something so appealing as I imagined it—feeling good about myself, and living a quiet and manageable life creating fashions that I actually loved. And hopefully being with a man I loved who loved me back. Maybe even Tucker.
“If he even wants to see me,” I said miserably to my own reflection.
I looked bad. I was pale as a sheet and there were huge dark circles under my bloodshot eyes. I hadn’t slept since Mother had stormed in on me. Any time I tried to close my eyes, I just saw our confrontation play out over and over on a loop.
“I can’t even understand what Tucker sees in me.”
“Are you serious?” a familiar voice asked and I turned around in my seat. It took several seconds for my shock to wear off, then I broke into a wide grin.
I couldn’t help myself, no matter how pathetic it made me. I ran toward him, and jumped, wrapping my arms and legs around him. We kissed, and my tongue danced with his, a dueling urge and flooding passion that seems equally shared between us.
“You’re really here?”
“Of course,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I come and see your show?”
“Because I told you to stay away.”
He lowered me to my feet. “But you didn’t really want me to stay away. I knew it. And I didn’t want to stay away either.” He hesitated then and stroked my cheek. I loved the feel of his skin—slightly callused and blistered from years of drum sticks in his hands—against the side of my face. “Hermes told me what happened. I’m sorry about your mom. But you can’t give up on your new designs, princess.”
“I have to. My mom’s right. They are too ordinary. And even if they aren’t…” I hated the desperation and resignation in my voice. I wanted to be a fighter, but I’d made fighting a difficult prospect. “I did something foolish again. I stopped production on the new designs. I acted like a child again, a scared child. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to get a handle on myself or my life, my mom can make me feel five years old again and scared, shaking in my closet. She’ll always have that power over me.”
“No, she won’t. You just haven’t had the practice to see that. But you’re the strongest person I know, Nik, and I’ve missed you so much.”
I couldn’t stop the feelings flowing through me any longer, and I didn�
��t want to. My stomach was flaring with warmth, and my underwear was already soaked with wetness. My nipples were already peaked and rigid beneath the thin fabric of my silk blouse. It was exactly the effect Tucker Benning had on me—this lust and desire that wouldn’t die, that burned through me like a raging inferno.
“You’re incredible,” I said. “You came back for me, and I didn’t give you a damn reason to.”
Tucker grinned, a look that was all too at home on his chiseled features. “You’re all the reason I need. Just you. That will always be enough. Now, about your show—”
“Are you kidding? I don’t want to talk about my show right now.” I mock pouted. “You said you missed me.”
“God, baby, I have,” he purred, kissing his way down my throat and nibbling at my earlobes.
“Then show me. Right here, please.”
I started undoing the buttons of his shirt, even as Tucker moved to ruck up my skirt. I was glad I’d worn some lacy panties underneath. I’d needed to be dressed to the nines at my own show so everything from my eight-inch turquoise suede heels to my silk blouse were put together for maximum fashion appeal. As I unbuttoned his cobalt silk shirt, I had to lick my lips. Tucker had amazing abs, an eight pack that I wanted to lean up against and lick with every inch of my tongue.
So I did.
I got to my knees, staring up at Tucker’s green eyes, gratified to see the hunger and desire burning in them. Leaning close, I traced my tongue over the ridges of his abs, playing in the hills and valleys of his abdomen. Arching my tongue out, I tickled the inner depths of his belly button, lapping up against the sensitive flesh there, tantalizing him with my every motion.
While I did this, I reached lower and unzipped his jeans. I pulled back just long enough to grin up at him, amused and grateful that he had once again gone commando. His cock sprang free before me, his engorged head oh so close to my lips.
