Rock Hard Series: Book 2
Maddox
A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance
Lilian Monroe
www.lilianmonroe.com
Twitter: @Lily_Author
Facebook: @MonroeRomance
Instagram: @lilianmonroe.author
Copyright © 2018 Lilian Monroe All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author except for short quotations used for the purpose of reviews.
Chapter 1 - Maddox
My head was splitting.
Every time I hit the drums, it sent a shockwave of pain through my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, gulping down water between songs. My throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper, and I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs.
Rehearsal was a struggle today. It was my own fault, really. I’d gone out drinking with my bandmates. Well, mostly just Garrett and I, since Carter wasn’t partying anymore. We’d gone out the night before as well, and countless nights before that, too. Somehow, over the past few months, we’d gone off the rails. Each of us had our reasons: Garrett had shit with his ex, Carter was going through some financial stuff and me… well, I’d been hit with some family legal issues that I wasn’t quite ready to face yet.
I’d been avoiding them for a long time. Avoiding the emails marked ‘urgent’ and ‘please reply’. Avoiding the envelopes sent to my house and the incessant phone calls from blocked numbers. My lawyer was at her wit’s end, I knew it, but I still couldn’t face her. I just partied to numb the pain of it all.
And now as I sat sweating at my drum kit, the stench of alcohol seeping out of my pores, I knew something had to change.
I messed up a song and the three of us stopped playing. Garrett, our lead singer and guitarist, glanced back at me and I could see the annoyance in his eyes. Nerves were frayed, and tensions were at an all-time high.
“You do remember how to play the drums, don’t you?” Garrett said, his dark eyes even darker than usual. I rolled my eyes and clutched my drumsticks until my knuckles turned white.
All three of us had strong personalities. We’d grown up together, and we often butted heads. We were always able to put it aside for the band, though. For the music. In the rehearsal space, in the studio, on stage—we were equals.
But Garrett was looking at me with fire in his eyes and the tension between us was escalating. Carter, our bassist, cleared his throat.
“Let’s just take it from the top,” he grumbled, eyeing both of us. “Then we can go out and get a fucking beer.”
Garrett grunted, turning back to his microphone and I counted us in. We stumbled through the song but made it to the end relatively unscathed.
The three of us were silent.
“How the fuck are we supposed to go on a world tour if we can’t even play our own fucking music?” Garrett grumbled.
Carter scoffed. “He’s just fucking hungover, man.”
I grunted in agreement.
Garrett dragged his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Carter glanced at me, pursing his lips. I shrugged.
Was this how bands broke up? They just stopped being able to play together? Other shit just got in the way and then they couldn’t talk to each other anymore?
The thought of us breaking up made my heart squeeze in my chest, and I smashed my drumsticks against the drums in frustration.
It sent another wave of pain and nausea through me, and I closed my eyes to try to regain control over my rebelling body.
When I opened my eyes, Garrett and Carter were looking at me, and I stood up in frustration.
“I need a break,” I grumbled, brushing past them to walk out the rehearsal space. I stalked down the hallway and out the front door, sinking down on the front steps of the building. It was an old building in a mostly abandoned industrial park in town. Bands rented out various rooms to rehearse in, since there were no neighbors to bother.
We’d been rehearsing there for years. Even after we hit it big with our second album we still kept the same rehearsal space. It was like our second home. If we weren’t in the studio, we were here.
I’d sat on those steps many times. I looked up at the sky, wishing I could see stars through the smog and light pollution of Los Angeles. I took a deep breath, dropping my head in my hands, and then my phone rang.
I answered it without thinking.
“Maddox!” My lawyer’s voice sounded through the receiver. I grunted. “Don’t hang up!”
Hillary sounded excited that I’d actually picked up her call. She was a tough woman, all business all the time. The excitement in her voice wasn’t typical.
“Listen, Maddox, I really need to speak with you. Are you available to come in to my office this week?”
“Not really,” I said, not knowing if it was true or not, but having no desire to make the trip to go see her. “Just tell me what you need to tell me over the phone.”
She sighed, and seemed to weigh her options. Finally she made a noise.
“Fine. Well, as you know I’ve been working hard to get your parents’ estate in order since the accident. They named your sister as the executor of their estate.”
My heart squeezed. “I know all this already, Hillary.”
I didn’t want to talk about this, but I let her continue.
“Yes, yes. I know. Well, we’ve finally made some progress. There’s a clause in their will, buried deep in the small print, that you actually do have access to half their estate! It was in a new version of their will that I hadn’t seen before.”
“I don’t want any of their money,” I spat bitterly. “Let Maggie keep it.”
“Maddox…”
“I mean it.”
There was silence on the line, and Hillary sighed.
“Maddox, I know this has been tough, and I know that your sister hasn’t made it any easier on you.”
“You don’t know shit, Hillary! What do you know about my situation?”
Hillary was quiet for a moment, and I knew I shouldn’t have lashed out at her. She’d been my parents’ lawyer before being mine, and was as close to a true mother figure as I’d ever had.
“I know that your parents were proud of you,” she said quietly
I scoffed. “Proud of me? You think they were proud of me? They’d have been proud of me if I’d have sold my soul to Wall Street and followed in my father’s footsteps. They’d have been proud of me if I’d have dressed in a fucking monkey suit every day and gone to work for The Man. Being part of a rock band didn’t exactly follow their expectations.”
“I know they were proud of you. Your mother told me so one night. She said you had followed your dreams and she’d wished she could have done the same.”
My chest squeezed and I tried to blink the tears away. I shook my head.
“They thought I was a fuck-up. They saw tattoos and loud music and nothing more.” But Hillary’s words pierced through my chest, and I took a deep breath. What if they had been proud of me?
Almost six months ago, they’d died in a freak boating accident. They’d both drowned, and I’d been the one to identify their bloated, blue bodies. They still visited me in my nightmares.
Then, my sister had tried to cut me out of their will.
Hillary’s voice was gentle when she continued. “Maddox,” she said, her tone almost motherly. “You’ll inherit your share of the estate if you get married by the time you’re thirty.”
I frowned as the world spun around me, and this time it didn’t feel like it was my hangover.
“What?”
“You’re set to inherit three quarters of a billion dollars if you get married within the next two months.”
“What the fuck?”
“They must have added the clause in after they found another lawyer. I knew nothing about it until I reviewed the will for the hundredth time.”
“They wanted me to get married? Why?”
Hillary sighed. “Maddox, they wanted you to be happy.”
I was dizzy. Even the cool evening air did nothing to calm my swirling thoughts. Married?! How was I supposed to find a wife? How could I trust anyone with this? I hadn’t even had a long-term girlfriend since I’d dropped out of college to be in the band!
“I’ll call you back, Hillary.”
“Tomorrow. Call me tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
“Try not to be so hungover when you call me back. We’ve got lots to talk about.”
A grin spread over my lips and I laughed. It was almost unfamiliar to be laughing, it had been so long since I’d done it. I grunted.
“You could tell?”
“I’ve known you since you were four, Maddox,” she said gently. “Your parents and I were friends long before I was their lawyer.”
“Alright,” I said.
“Alright,” she replied, and we hung up. I stared at the blank screen on my phone, frowning. I must have sat there for a long time, because I jumped when a heavy palm fell on my shoulder. I looked up to see Garrett looking down at me, his eyebrows drawn together.
“You okay?”
It was an apology for how he’d spoken to me earlier. I knew it, and he didn’t have to say the words. I nodded, getting up and clapping my hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I replied. I accept your apology.
“Tony’ll be here any minute,” he said. I checked the time on my phone and grunted. Our manager was coming by to check on us. “We’re meeting our new Personal Relations team tonight.”
I snorted. “Our PR team’ll have their work cut out for them.”
Garrett just grinned, and nodded towards the door. We went back inside to do what we did best: play some music.
Chapter 2 - Lacie
“I can’t believe you were able to get us all on the same team,” I breathed, looking at Morgan with wide eyes. She worked for a Personal Relations firm for all kinds of different celebrities in Los Angeles, and she’d managed to get both me and our friend Veronica on the same job. I’d be doing hair and makeup and Veronica would be the full-time photographer for the next six weeks.
We were going to be working with the biggest band in the USA, maybe the world: The Mondays.
Morgan grinned. “I’m not sure it’s a good thing. I’m pretty sure Marcus gave me this assignment to watch me fail, just so he could demote me or fire me.”
Veronica laughed. “I’m not sure I really care. I’ll be able to put this on my resume for the rest of my life!”
“That makes one of us,” Morgan laughed. “I’ll wait to put this on my resume to see if they actually behave themselves. From what I’ve seen in their file, they’re not exactly PR-friendly.”
I’d seen the press—we all had. The Mondays had been on a six-month bender of self-destruction. They’d gone from America’s dream band to tabloid fodder in a matter of weeks.
“You’ll be great,” Veronica said, putting her arm around Morgan’s shoulder.
I nodded. “Plus, they’re all super hot.”
I’d seen the photos and music videos and all the press around the band. All three men were muscled, tattooed giants. They just screamed ‘man’ whenever you looked at them. The thought of being in the same room as them for the next week—and if things went well, on a world tour with them—well, it made me warm in all the right places.
Morgan grinned, nodding to the nondescript building in front of us. It looked almost abandoned. If it weren’t for the distant noises of bands practicing in various corners of the building, I might have thought we had the wrong address.
“Let’s go meet these guys.”
“Hold on to your panties, ladies,” I joked. “I hear these guys are lethal.”
“Lethal or not, we have a job to do,” Morgan replied. Her face was drawn and she clenched her fists, glancing at the building. I knew her boss had backed her into a corner with this job, but Veronica and I were going to help her as much as possible.
“Don’t worry, Morgan. You’ve got the dream team with you,” I said.
Veronica nodded. “They won’t stand a chance. They’ll clean up their act in no time and they’ll be back to being America’s sweethearts.”
“Can men be sweethearts?” I asked, laughing.
Veronica elbowed me in the ribs and glanced at me sideways. “You know what I mean.”
“Alright,” Morgan announced with a deep breath. “Let’s go meet these bad boy rock stars, turn them into nice choir boys and get them ready for their album launch.”
We marched through the front doors just as the band’s manager, Tony, came down the hallway. He was a shorter man with a round potbelly. His shirt was a deep, wine red with wide lapels, and he spread his arms out wide. I could see the gold chain glinting against his hairy chest.
“Morgan! You look gorgeous as always. And this must be Lacie and Veronica!”
We all made the necessary introductions, and headed down the winding hallways. As the sound of music got louder, my heart started beating harder.
I’d worked with celebrities before. I’d worked backstage at fashion shows and photo shoots, and it was unlike me to get star struck. But still, as we walked towards the sounds of the band and we rounded the last corner, my mouth was dry and my palms were sweating.
This was The Mondays! The biggest rock band in the country—maybe the world! How could I not be nervous? I straightened my dress, glancing down at myself and wondering if a casual sundress was the way to go. Maybe I should have looked more professional? I mean, look at Morgan! Her white pencil skirt and blazer combination was just screaming ‘hot businesswoman bitch’ in the best possible way.
I shook my head, blowing the air out of my nostrils and squaring my shoulders. Morgan was in front of us, and Veronica squeezed my arm. She gave me a wink and I nodded.
We got to the door just as the song ended, and Tony ushered us through. Morgan went straight into business mode. She took a couple strides forward, extending her hand towards the lead singer, Garrett.
“Morgan Matthews.”
“Garrett–”
“Wood,” Morgan finished. “I’ve heard of you.”
I didn’t hear anything else after that. Tony introduced me to the band, and they all nodded at me, but my eyes were glued on one man: Maddox Knight, the drummer.
His eyes were the color of whiskey, and his hair was sandy blonde. My eyes drifted down to his bare chest, which was glistening with sweat from their rehearsal. He saw me looking at the tattoos that carved inky trails across his body, and something flashed in his eyes.
Was I the one who had told the other girls to ‘hold on to their panties’? Because I was starting to think that I would need to take my own advice.
I could feel the warmth creeping through my center, spreading from my stomach to my thighs as I watched the muscles in Maddox’s chest ripple and contract under his skin.
He wasn’t like the guys I usually went for. I usually dated clean-cut guys with a normal, nine-to-five kinds of jobs. My ex-boyfriend had one tattoo, but it was easily hidden on his shoulder, and he’d gotten it when he was a drunken eighteen-year-old.
Maddox was different. His eyes promised danger, and his body looked like it had been chiseled in marble. He stretched his arms overhead, running his fingers through his hair as he looked me up and down.
Somebody—Veronica, I think—took me by the elbow and led me to a sofa. Maddox’s pale hazel eyes followed me, drinking in every move I made and sending endless thrills through my body.
He’s just a regular guy. Just like
anyone else. It doesn’t matter that he’s in a band.
I tried to will myself to be normal. I tried to ignore the pulsing between my legs and the unmistakable wetness that was soaking through my underwear.
God, I wish he would put a shirt on.
But that was a lie. The last thing I wanted him to do was put a shirt on. My heart probably would have shattered if he’d covered that beautiful body of his with clothing. I sat on my hands to stop them shaking, and to stop myself from reaching out towards him.
I wanted to touch him so badly it was making me ache in the best possible way.
Finally, he looked away from me and over to Garrett, and they started playing for us. I sat back in the sofa, closing my eyes for a moment as the sounds pierced through my body and took me to another level.
When I opened them, Maddox was looking at me. A grin played over his lips and I blushed. I tried to look away, to force my cheeks to stop getting so red, but it was no use. It felt like my whole head was burning up under his gaze.
I couldn’t deny it: I wanted him. I wanted him in a carnal way that I’d never experienced before. My mouth was watering just looking at his muscled body move as he hit the drums harder than I thought was possible.
“They’re good,” Veronica said to Morgan, almost reverently. Her eyes were glued on the bassist, Carter. “This is going to be the easiest job of my life.”
Chapter 3 - Maddox
Holy fuck.
I was glad I was sitting behind my drum kit, because my cock was rock-fucking-hard. I didn’t even see the other two women who made up our PR team. They didn’t so much as register on my radar, because the minute Lacie walked in, my eyes were glued on her.
Lacie.
Even her name tasted good on my tongue. And fuck, I’d like to taste other parts of her, too. I watched her glide in the door and sit down on the couch to watch us play. Her eyes carved into me, drifting down my chest and over my arms. I flexed a little, grinning as I saw the blush warming her cheeks.
Maddox: A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance (Rock Hard Book 2) Page 1
