I told myself resolutely that it didn’t matter.
They performed seven original songs, all different enough to be interesting, some edgy, some moody and emotional.
“There’s some record producer guys here tonight. James Cavendish called them in. He should be here, too. We need to find him afterward, see what he thinks. Wouldn’t it be amazing if they got a record deal?”
I nodded, my eyes wide. In my mind, there was no doubt that they would get one, they were that good.
When the set ended, the stage was overrun, mostly by women.
In a way, I was relieved, because I didn’t have to worry about actually dealing with Tristan, or any of them, for that matter. I just wasn’t up for it.
Frankie seemed to be of the same mind, tugging me in the opposite direction, out into the lounge, her eyes searching the room, before she pulled me past that too.
When she started to wander down a hall that clearly said employees only, I dug in my heels.
“Where are we going?” I asked her, eyes narrowed.
“I told you. I want to talk to James.”
“This is for employees only.”
“I work here. Kind of. Don’t worry about it. What are they going to do? Kick us out?”
I thought that’s exactly what they’d do, but I let her pull me along.
We wound up in a huge white room that I quickly caught on was for the after party.
“Frankie!” I rounded on her. “I told you. I don’t want to see anyone. Why would you drag me back here?”
She ignored me completely, waving at someone behind me, then rushing off.
I turned to see James Cavendish striding into the room, dressed for business but looking relaxed. And God, he was still as stunning as I remembered. In the brighter light of this room, even more so, his skin darker, his eyes brighter, than I’d realized.
He was grinning at Frankie, then hugging her, saying something quiet into her ear.
I approached them, feeling very out of place. I did not hang out with people like this, and I couldn’t believe that Frankie did.
James smiled at me, holding his hand out politely to shake, and we shook. “Nice to meet you, Danika. Frankie has told me so much about you.”
I couldn’t have been more shocked, and I had to scramble just to make small talk with the intimidating man. “Nice to meet you, too. We met once before, actually. Some guy got kicked out of the club for being a creeper, and you came by to make sure I was okay.”
His brows raised, and he gave me a killer smile. “I remember that. Wow, small world. I didn’t make the connection. It’s darker in the lounge, but I see it now.”
“My boss has a few paintings from your gallery. Let me just say, I’m a huge fan of some of the artists you’ve discovered. Art is a passion of mine.”
He looked intrigued, tilting his head to study me. “Well, thank you. It seems we share a passion, then, Danika.”
Frankie seemed to catch his eye, and his grin widened.
“For art, Frankie. Relax. I wouldn’t hit on your girl.”
This baffled me, and I found my mind slowly trying to make sense of it when he turned his dazzling smile on me again.
“Who’s the artist of the paintings? The ones your boss got from my gallery.”
“Someone named Mallory. Jackson Mallory.”
“Tell me about the pieces.”
“One is an abstract, called Orchard. Bold, warm colors, emotional leaning towards moody. It’s absolutely stunning.”
He was studying me very intently. “I know the painting. I like that description. You have a flair for this, Danika. Tell me about the second one.”
“It’s untitled. A portrait of a woman. A redhead. Her features are very detailed and…sensual.” I felt very embarrassed to use that word in front of him, but I couldn’t think of a better one. “A semi-nude, though luckily the essentials are covered, since my boss has two little ones in the house.”
“I remember that painting, as well. I’ll tell you what, Danika. If you ever want a job in the art world, you let me know. You have a good eye, and a penchant for descriptions, which is very important. And most importantly, that passion.”
I was stunned, and flattered beyond words. So flattered that I barely stammered out a thank you at the praise. I’d never considered working at a gallery, but I couldn’t say why it hadn’t occurred to me. There was no question I’d enjoy it.
“Whenever you’re done trying to hire her, James, I want you to tell me what you thought of the band!”
He looked thoughtful. “They’re good. Very good. That lead singer is an attention grabber. I’d be shocked if they don’t get a deal soon. In fact, I think they’re getting an earful about that already.” He nodded across the room, and we turned to look.
I turned, my gut churning as I saw Tristan and the guys, engaged in an intense conversation with some men in suits. I saw that Jerry was with them, which I should have guessed. He’d been the one to put this whole thing together.
I turned away quickly, not wanting to look at Tristan, or notice all of the women waiting to get the band’s attention.
I counted to ten, not letting myself look at him again.
“Does the casino have a magic act?” I asked James, a devil getting ahold of my tongue.
“Excuse me?” he asked, looking amused but baffled.
“Tristan, the lead singer. You said he was an attention grabber. You’re right. He is. He’s a great singer, but that’s not even his biggest talent.”
“Really? Do tell.”
“He does card tricks. Sleight of hand that you wouldn’t believe. I can’t even describe it, it’s so good. You should ask him about it. And you should think about getting a fresh, young magic act. There’s enough old men with too much plastic surgery dominating that field. You should do something different.”
James didn’t blow off my suggestion, as I’d more than half assumed he would.
“That’s a solid idea. Our current act is a walking heart attack, so I’ll have to ask Tristan about this sometime. Ah, here he is. Tristan, Danika’s been telling me…”
James trailed off as a hand grabbed my arm from behind.
“Excuse me,” I heard an achingly familiar voice growl right before I was being dragged out of the room by a big hand that was attached to the person that I least wanted to see in the world.
TRISTAN
It was even worse than I’d anticipated, when I laid eyes on her again. One glance at her and I was lost.
We weren’t alone, in fact it felt like everyone I’d ever met was crowded into the room with us. She was standing close to Frankie, their sides nearly touching. She was thinner than the other woman, but she towered over her, especially in those fuck-me heels.
Both of them had black hair, but that was about all they had in common, looks wise. Still, they were a striking sight, standing side by side. Danika looked like a supermodel, her lithe curves hugged perfectly in that tiny white dress that drove me out of my mind crazy, and Frankie could have been a pinup model, with her half-shirt exposing huge amounts of toned, inked up skin.
They were talking to James, in fact they’d gone directly to him, as though no one else was in the room. But of course, that wasn’t the worst of it…
The part that made my gut twist hard was that she barely looked at me, just one quick glance and she looked pointedly away, as though she was afraid to meet my eyes, as though she didn’t think I’d be happy to see her there.
That killed me, but I couldn’t blame her. I’d been a bastard. Not only had I not called her for weeks, I hadn’t even been the one to invite her here, hadn’t even tried to reach out when I knew she was coming.
She was saying something to James that had her eyes flashing, her hands moving in small gestures to emphasize her point.
She was doing that adorable thing she did where she got so passionate about a subject that it turned into a rant. I loved it when she did that, and now she was doing it fo
r James Cavendish.
And worse, James looked fascinated by her, interrupting her impassioned little tirade occasionally, his smile warm.
The guys had all been worried that our pink-haired opening act would blow our shot at a record deal, but I realized that I was about to do that, when I choked out James fucking Cavendish.
I was moving to them, approaching Danika from behind, before I could stop myself.
I overheard the last bit of what Danika was saying to Cavendish as I walked up.
“Tristan, the lead singer. You said he was an attention grabber. You’re right. He is. He’s a great singer, but that’s not even his biggest talent.”
“Really? Do tell.”
“He does card tricks. Sleight of hand that you wouldn’t believe. I can’t even describe it, it’s so good. You should ask him about it. And you should think about getting a fresh, young, hot magic act. There’s enough old men with too much plastic surgery dominating the game. You should do something different.”
My chest ached, my vision going a bit blurry.
Cavendish smiled at her like she’d just said something brilliant. He looked up, said something in my general direction, but I barely heard him, I was so floored by the revelation that, while I’d been a complete bastard to her, she was promoting me like she was my damned cheerleader.
I didn’t think, I just moved, striding to her, grabbing her arm, and dragging her with me out of the room.
She went along with me without much fight at first, but when she saw that we were leaving the club, she started to try to pull away.
“We need to talk,” I told her gruffly.
“Now?! You think we need to talk right now? This is not good timing for you. I’m pretty sure you need to be back there, talking with those record guys.”
“That’s what Jerry is for. No reason for me to talk to them. Anything they wanted to know about me, they saw on stage.”
She followed me rather sedately, for all of ten seconds.
“What the hell, Tristan? Have you ever tried to walk in four inch heels? I’m guessing not, but unless you want me to break an ankle, you had better slow down. And where are we going?”
I slowed, not looking at her, but listening to her, absolutely floored at how good it felt just to hear her voice again, even if she was yelling at me.
“I missed you,” I told her quietly, as I punched the button on the elevator that led to the parking garage.
“You missed me?” she asked, her tone incredulous, as the elevator doors enclosed us. “You missed me?” she repeated, when I didn’t respond. “Obviously. Because this is what you do when you miss somebody; you don’t call, you don’t text, for weeks, and you fuck around with random women.”
I winced, suddenly feeling a little light headed. So she knew. Of course she did. Fuck. I didn’t know if that was good or bad. At least I wouldn’t have to tell her myself.
The elevator door opened and I tugged her out into the parking garage, practically dragging her to my car.
I opened the passenger door, just looking at her as she scratched at my hand like a wild cat.
“Let me go! What are you doing? Why would you think it’s okay to just drag me to your car?”
I clenched my jaw, feeling completely out of control. “Get in the car. We need to talk.”
She glared at me for a solid minute, my hand still holding her wrist. I knew I wasn’t hurting her, but I wasn’t letting go, either. Not until she got in the car.
She got in, calling me a few choice names as I closed the door behind her.
I got into the driver’s seat, and just sat there for a long time, neither of us speaking.
I listened to her inhaling, exhaling, and thought again how much I’d missed just having her breath the same air as me.
“We need to talk,” I repeated myself, yet again. “I missed you.”
I didn’t know why it was so hard for me to find the words I wanted to say to her, to find words to even begin to express what I was feeling, but that seemed to be the best I could choke out.
Something in my words, or maybe my tone, finally reached her.
She let out a long, resigned sigh. “We should talk. I’ll start. You were right. About everything. We should have stuck to that stupid list. Friends was always our only option. I just lost my mind for a bit.”
It felt like I’d been punched in the gut, only worse, because I’d been punched plenty of times, and it never felt like this, like some raw wound that I’d helped to cause, and that I might not recover from.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
TRISTAN
I don’t know how long I just sat there in a sort of stunned silence. I was not good with this shit.
I started the car, pulling slowly onto the ramp that led up to the top.
“Um, where are you going? This isn’t even the way to the exit, Tristan.”
“So fucking bossy,” I growled, steering my car up onto the top floor, which wasn’t covered.
Rain pelted the car, drowning out some of the tense silence that was driving me crazy.
I’d barely glanced at her since we’d walked out of the after party.
Where she’d torn my heart out of my chest.
By being my biggest supporter, when she had every right to hate my guts.
Finally, I turned to look at her.
She stared back steadily, her jaw firm, her arms folded across her chest. “So that’s it then,” she said, sass in every word.
“What’s it?”
“We made a mistake. Let’s forget it ever happened, and go back to friendship. I realized tonight—”
“I know what you taste like,” I interrupted, my tone harsh. “I know how it feels to have you come against my tongue. What it feels like to have you clench around my cock while you lose your fucking mind. And you, you’ve tasted me. I’ve shoved my cock so deep down your throat I felt your tonsils, Danika. Are we going to forget all of that?”
She blinked at me, her mouth agape. Speechless. That was a first.
I leaned over and gripped her thigh. “How, Danika? Tell me how we’re supposed to forget any of that?”
“You—you…It was all casual for you, Tristan. It didn’t mean a thing.”
“I’ve had my mouth all over you, my hands…my teeth. And your cunt has squeezed my cock so tight that my vision went blurry. Am I supposed to forget that, too?”
“Tristan!”
“And you said you were in love with me. Do you really expect me to fucking forget that?” I got out of the car, slamming it shut. I was drenched by the hot rain before I’d even made it to the passenger door.
I wrenched it open, pulling a shocked Danika out into the rain with me.
I shut the door behind her, pressing her against it.
I kissed her. She turned her face away, and I nuzzled into her neck before coming back to her mouth. I pushed my tongue between her lips, needing to get inside of her any way that I could.
She moaned, gripping the front of my shirt. I felt the moment she gave in, and my hands gripped her ass, dragging her up, grinding my erection against her.
Her legs wrapped around me, her dress so short that it rode up to her hips with the motion.
I wrenched my mouth away, sliding it to her ear. My breath was panting out of me, so I was breathless when I spoke. “I’m going to fuck you hard on the hood of this car, in the pouring rain. And. You. Are. Not. Going. To. Forget. It.” I kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear between each roughly uttered word.
I felt her entire body tremble, and I shuddered against her.
I carried her to the front of the car.
I splayed her out, dragging her arms high above her head.
I straightened, keeping my hands on her knees, spreading them wide, and just looked at her.
Her dress had gone completely see-through, and it was more indecent than being outright naked. I loved it. I wouldn’t forget the sight for as long as I lived.
Her breasts heaved, t
he nipples hard and pink against the filmy white fabric. Trails of eye makeup ran down her pale cheek, her pitch black hair wet and messy, trailing into her face, and I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
I took my mouth to her, licking the rain off her skin, sucking at her through the soaking wet, paper-thin material of her white dress.
My hands got busy slipping off her tiny red thong, then unbuttoning my jeans.
I kissed my way between her legs, burying my face in her core, licking and sucking at her sex, the hot rain mixing with the taste of her, creating an intoxicating blend.
I didn’t come up for air until I was sure that she had lost her mind.
I jerked my cock out of my jeans, moving over her, pressing hard against her as I guided myself to her entrance.
“You gonna forget this?” I rasped into her ear as I worked myself in.
Her answer was a nearly unintelligible negative. I eased in and out, my pace slow as I closed my eyes and savored that perfect feeling of being inside of her.
She clenched around me like the tightest little fist and I lost my mind.
My smooth strokes grew into hard jack-knife thrusts, harder, harder.
My hands pushed her legs wide open, wider, and I pounded in and out, in and out, telling her just how beautiful she was, how perfect she felt, my mouth at her ear.
Her replies came in the form of whimpers and moans, and I thought that I’d missed that the most; the sound of the most controlled woman I’d ever met losing her shit.
“Let go, sweetheart,” I told her raggedly, so close to the edge. I reached down, finding her clit and rubbing it with the lightest touch, ramming hard. One contact so soft, the other nearly brutal in its roughness. “Come for me. I need you to. Give me everything you have, every ounce of that control, sweetheart.”
I felt her clenching me, the spasms that told me she was coming, and I rammed to the hilt and held, pouring into her. It felt like I left my body and came back into it, it was that intense.
I started to pull out, but she was so tight, squeezing at my base, so wet, the tight glide inside of her so fucking smooth, that I found myself pushing back in before I’d fully pulled out, hard like I hadn’t just emptied myself inside of her.
Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1) Page 22
