Revenge: The Complete Series (Erotic Rock Star Suspense Romance)

by Mimi Strong

  My voice comes out a scratchy whisper. “I barely know him.”

  He flips the coin high in the air.

  My heart feels like it’s in my throat.

  He snatches the coin easily, and slaps it against the top of his other hand.

  “Your call,” he says. “His new songs are terrible, but I believe he can do better. Call the coin, and if you’re right, I’ll authorize the deal.” He pauses. “God help us all.”

  “Heads.”

  He slowly lifts his hand away. I lean forward, straining to see the shining surface. In that moment, I know.

  I do love Dylan.

  But it’s a selfish love, because I’m praying the coin is tails.

  “Heads,” he says.

  I smile and nod. I should be thrilled. Dylan’s going to get his deal, and he’ll be happy. If I really, truly loved him, I’d want the best for him.

  But here I am, secretly hoping he’ll stay a street busker in LA. So we can hang out more.

  He deserves better than me.

  Mr. Morris picks up the phone and starts making a call.

  I take this as my cue to leave, and walk out the door.

  He calls after me. “Jessica, stop off at the ninth floor for your consolation prize.”

  “Okay,” I mumble.

  Chapter 12

  After I leave the tenth floor, I stop on the ninth to see Stephanie.

  She has her assistant fetch me a fresh coffee and a magazine while she makes calls.

  Stephanie talks to Mr. Morris, then books the best hotel room she can get at short notice. She even orders room service.

  I get a text message from Dylan:

  Blue Shoes. I’m going into the meeting now. Don’t tell them I’m nervous. I’ve got the bodyguards with me. You know what? I don’t think the bodyguards Q assigned are to protect me. I think they’re here to hold me back if I get… passionate. But don’t worry. I’m saving all my passion for you.

  Dylan

  I text him back to wish him good luck.

  “I bet you’re excited to celebrate,” Stephanie says. “You may do this a dozen times in your career, but there’s no time like the first.”

  I just keep flipping magazine pages, pretending to read about celebrities. Inside, I’m horrified. Stephanie is suggesting I’ll go to a hotel room to celebrate with other, different guys.

  Screw that. I’m quitting this job as soon as Dylan gets his money.

  I just have to play it cool a few more days.

  Stephanie’s on the phone again. “She’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  She hangs up, and starts motioning for me to get going.

  “I can sit in on the meeting upstairs?”

  “Not a chance. You’re going to the spa to get every inch of you waxed and massaged.”

  “I’d rather just stick around here, thanks.”

  She hands me an address. “Do as you’re told.”

  I take the card, silently cursing her.

  “A driver will be waiting out front,” she says.

  I frown. I was planning to go straight home, but I guess today’s not about me getting what I want.

  I take the elevator down to the archives. Nick isn’t around.

  I gather up my bag and other things. It’s too bad I can’t take the flowers, since I might not be back Monday.

  Outside, a sleek towncar is waiting for me.

  The next few hours pass in a blur of spa treatments, a makeover, and shopping.

  Now it’s seven o’clock Friday night, and I’m waiting.

  In front of me is a room service trolley, loaded up with champagne and food. I cross my legs and adjust my pose on the nice sofa in the hotel suite.

  I’m all alone here, in the penthouse suite, waiting for Dylan to arrive.

  He’s been in touch with me by text messages only.

  He told me he signed the deal with Morris Music. A significant deal. Like, the kind of deal all the industry blogs are buzzing about. And the blogs are buzzing.

  There’s no way people could have gotten the news this fast. Someone within Morris Music was sending out announcements.

  I check the clock over the grand marble fireplace. 7:01pm. Dylan said he’d be here by 6:30.

  The longer I wait, the more I worry that Mr. Carter Morris was right.

  Now that Dylan has signed his deal, our relationship could fall apart. Maybe he was only with me to get him inside information. Maybe when he looks at my face, he sees his dead wife, and he secretly hates me.

  Who’s been playing whom?

  I smooth down my new black dress. Underneath the dress is more new underwear, all black and lace. I flick some lint off my new dress. If only I could flick away my doubts as easily.

  By 7:30, I’m not just nervous anymore. Now I’m pissed. Dylan’s keeping me waiting. With each minute, I feel our relationship becoming disposable.

  Finally, I start eating the food from the trolley. I grab my bag and dump the contents onto the fancy coffee table for sorting.

  The stack of old photos I stole from the archives are here, along with a shocking number of candy wrappers. My old bag hasn’t been much use since I started carrying a purse.

  I sort through the photos. Something catches my eye. It’s a group photo, taken outside at a picnic.

  The picture’s old, but I recognize an older couple wearing matching hoodies.

  They’re younger here, but it’s definitely them. These same two were filming Dylan on the street the day we met. And Dylan confirmed to me that they’re working for or with Q.

  On the back of the photo, there are no names written. Just question marks, like the photographer didn’t know who they were.

  A realization hits me.

  These people are working for Q. But these people are also connected to someone within Morris Music.

  My head is buzzing with these new developments.

  I dig through the photos and find one of the couple posing with a third person—a man. They seem friendly with him. I flip over the photo.

  There are two question marks, and just one name: David Ambler.

  My hands drop to my lap.

  “David Ambler,” I say to the empty hotel suite.

  He’s the man who hired me at Morris, but was fired by Maggie Clark before I started.

  I take a closer look. David Ambler has small, beady eyes. He’s wearing thick glasses. Just like how Dylan described the mysterious Q.

  I swear out loud at the empty room.

  David Ambler is Q.

  And if Nick and Maggie Clark really don’t know about him, that means he’s working against them.

  The door to the penthouse suite opens.

  I’m so shocked, my arms jerk up, scattering the photos. I let out a strangled scream.

  Chapter 13

  The door to the room opens all the way.

  Dylan walks into the penthouse suite. He’s followed by two redhead girls.

  The girls are shocked by me screaming. They scream, too.

  Dylan catches my eyes with his, and starts laughing. His laughter echoes the room. I’ve never heard him quite this happy.

  “Guilty conscience?” he says.

  He’s got his old beat-up guitar with him, which he sets just inside the door.

  I holding my hands to my chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “I brought some old friends,” he says, nodding to the girls.

  They’re pretty redheads. One has blue eyes and the other green. I recognize them as the singer twins I met at Dylan’s gig. They slept off their partying at his loft, and then they wouldn’t leave.

  And now they’re here.

  Great.

  Marley shrugs up her shoulders and runs over to me, squealing. She leaps on the couch and hugs me. “It’s so good to see you again, Jess!”

  Her red hair flies everywhere, sticking to my lip gloss and tickling my nose.

  Her more reserved sister, Bianca, waves politely. Bianca takes a seat on
an ornate chair.

  “Marley and Bianca,” I say, looking them both over. They’re wearing layers of feathery, gauzy clothes. Both look amazing from head to toe.

  Dylan is busy for the moment checking out the food trolley. I try to hide my disappointment that he brought company.

  I smile at the girls. “I love your turquoise jewelry. You guys look amazing. Are you… rushing off to a gig tonight?”

  Marley settles back on the sofa next to me. She stretches her arms along the sofa back, like she’s not going anywhere.

  “No gig, but we just came from a photo shoot with Mr. Wolf,” Marley says.

  Dylan pops the champagne open. “Don’t call me Mr. Wolf.” He pours champagne into four glasses. “You make me sound like the bad guy in a fairy tale.” He looks right at me, his dark brown eyes sending a tickle down my spine. “Mr. Wolf sounds like someone who devours innocent young girls.”

  I smile back at him sweetly. “Doesn’t sound like anyone I know.”

  Bianca gets up from her chair and helps distribute the tall glasses of champagne.

  “That’s some black dress you’re wearing,” Dylan growls at me. “No little red riding hood today?”

  “My riding hood must have fallen off in the forest, on my way here.”

  He jumps over the back of the sofa facing mine. He lands on his feet on the firm cushions, then on his butt.

  The twins squeal about him spilling champagne. He hasn’t spilled a drop. He takes a sip, his eyes on me over the glass.

  “Congratulations,” I say, tipping mine back.

  Marley rifles through the pictures I’ve dropped on the floor. “What’s with all the photos?”

  “That’s nothing.” I snatch them from her hands. “Boring work stuff.” I push everything into my bag. I can ask Dylan about the photo and Q as soon as we’re alone.

  Marley declares that she’s famished, and starts raiding the trolley for food.

  For the next hour, we eat and drink, celebrating Dylan’s deal. I find out why they were all at a photo shoot together. Morris Music signed a deal with Marley and Bianca, as well. Not a huge deal like Dylan’s, but they’re planning to go on tour with him.

  As we talk about the tour, Dylan barely takes his eyes off me. I would be jealous over the idea of him spending more time with the redheads, but he’s not even looking at them.

  The words of Mr. Morris echo in my head. I push them away by thinking about Q. Something tells me the game isn’t over yet.

  By nine o’clock, I’m getting annoyed. Dylan and the girls pass around his guitar. They trade off playing songs, talking about working together on something. We’re on the third bottle of champagne, brought up by room service.

  I give Dylan a special look, my eyes wide and unwavering.

  He puts down the guitar and says, “Girls, I can spring for a room down the hall for you, but I have bad news. You’re not spending the night with Jess.”

  Thankfully, the girls take a hint and start to leave.

  We all hug goodbye, and they tell me we’re going to have so much fun.

  I practically shove them out the door.

  Once they’re gone, I collapse on the couch. Dylan walks over to where I’m sitting.

  I feel a gentle pressure in his silence now. The last time we were alone together, he basically said he loved me. I didn’t say it back.

  He leans over me. I pucker my lips to kiss him. He scoops his arms under my legs and around my back, and picks me up.

  “Dylan,” I whisper.

  “You don’t have to say anything.” He gazes down into my eyes as he walks us over to the bed. “You’re my inspiration. My angel. My good luck charm. You’re my everything. I should have said no to the girls coming over, but they wanted to see you.”

  “It was nice to see them,” I say.

  He stops at the foot of the bed. His smile widens to a huge grin. The corners of his beautiful brown eyes crinkle. “It wasn’t that nice to see them. Miss Rivera, you’re a terrible liar. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

  I open my mouth to argue with him. He tosses me from his arms, onto the bed. I bounce and roll.

  In a heartbeat, he’s on top of me. His body presses down on me as his lips meet mine. His mouth tastes of the strawberries and chocolate. I can’t get enough of him.

  My body responds to his touch, my back arching and my arms clasping him to me. I moan his name against his lips. He grabs me roughly, squeezing me. He rolls and pulls me on top of him.

  Now that I’m on top, I slow the pace of our kissing. I pull away, teasing him with my lips. I kiss him softly.

  He raises his head to get closer, and keeps moving until he’s sitting up and I’m straddling him. My black dress is pushed up, revealing my underwear.

  We keep kissing. He reaches back and slowly unzips me. As my dress slips apart at the back, he runs his hands up and down my bare back. His fingers remind me of someone playing piano, only the keys are my spine.

  He pulls away from the kiss and tugs my dress up, over my head. He gazes up into my eyes for a moment, then bows his head toward the center of my breasts. In a flash, he has my black lace bra off.

  With his hands on my hips, he guides me up so I’m kneeling, straddling his lap. Now he can mouth my nipples easily.

  He swirls the tip of his tongue around my hardening nipple. Sensation and desire shock through my body. I gasp and try to pull away, but he holds me tight, both hands on my hips.

  It’s almost too much, this divine pleasure of him mouthing my breast and tasting my skin. His expression is soft and gentle, rapturous.

  I give in to my desire and push my fingers into his hair, cradling the back of his head. He sucks on my nipple, the pressure sending fire between my legs. My hips rock rhythmically.

  He grabs me under the armpits and tosses me onto my back. My legs clamp together. His eyes go to my black lace panties. He quickly pulls off his shirt. His tanned skin is flushed pink near his neck.

  I’m as struck by his majestic body tonight as I was the first time. I can’t believe this perfection is mine for touching.

  He catches me looking as he pulls down his jeans. “Hey.” He tosses his chin upward playfully. “What are you looking at?”

  “A sexy rock star.”

  He stretches and flexes, flirting with his eyes. “Am I your million dollar man?”

  “I’d like you just as much if you were flat broke.”

  His dark eyebrows twitch up, and he keeps posing.

  “How’s this pose? Good for a promo photo?”

  I hold my hands up to my face. I make a click sound, pretending to snap his picture.

  He’s down to nothing but his boxers now, which are riding low on his hips. When he turns his back to me, there are two adorable dimples above his butt.

  He breaks his pose and leaps onto the bed again. His shoulders are hunched up. He crawls on top of me, his head slung low like a wolf.

  He kisses me on the lips, then pulls away. Now I’m the one who’s gasping and sitting up to catch him. He pushes me back with one hand, and lowers his mouth to my breast.

  His lips and tongue are hot. He teases me, making me writhe on the bed as he touches me slowly. He pulls down my underwear and kisses every inch of skin on my body. Thanks to the spa, I’m bare and smooth.

  “You’re on fire for me,” he whispers. His finger slips inside me, and I pant for more. With his fingers, he strokes me and brings me to the edge.

  Then he gets up and walks away. I make agitated noises, which makes him glance back and smile.

  He reaches for the light switch. All the lights go off.

  I can hear him doing something, but I can’t see anything now. I hear crinkling, like a plastic bag. He mutters under his breath about locating the condoms before turning out the lights.

  I fumble around in the dark and pull down the bed covers. I slip under, and over to the opposite side of the bed. Holding very still, I wait to surprise him by hiding. The dark
is heightening my excitement.

  Dylan must have better night vision than me, because he jumps right on me, yelling, “Gotcha!”

  Fear shoots through me, and my instincts kick in.

  The recent memory is fresh and real. Time collapses. I’m back in the boarded-up house again, in the dark. I’m being held down.

  I don’t even realize I’m hitting Dylan. I’m just fighting.

  He rolls away and flicks on a bedside lamp.

  The light doesn’t bring me back to reality. My mind plays tricks on me. I see the gaunt man from the house, and his crazy eyes.

  “Leave me alone,” I whimper.

  Dylan wraps his arm over me and clutches me to his chest. “Shh. It’s okay, Jess. Did I hurt you? What’s wrong? Shh. You’re safe.”

  My tears explode out of me. Pressing my face into his chest, garbled words come out of me.

  I’m upset about everything that’s been happening. My words make no sense, but I mention the abandoned house.

  “I understand,” he says. “You were in the dark. I should have known.” He rocks me in his arms until I go limp. He kisses the top of my head. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I hate myself for making you cry. Do you hear me?”

  I murmur that it’s okay, not his fault.

  “You’re so innocent,” he says, still rocking me. “And you met me during this incredible time in my life. I think even good change is hard. I’ve been working too much. I’ll call Morris and tell them I need time. They wanted me to do some appearances, but I’m taking the weekend to spend with you. You’re more important than this deal.”

  I pull away to look into his eyes. His face is in shadow, with the lamp behind him. Rather than reach back for the light on my side, I kiss him. I roll on top of him, and then back down on the other side.

  He gives me a quizzical look.

  “Now I can see your beautiful eyes,” I say, stroking the side of his face.

  He looks down the line of my naked body. I’m on my side, my hips rising in a curve.