Like me, Frankie never missed a show. We went together, always watching the performance from a few rows back. Tristan told me he preferred this, since I tended to distract him, if he could see me in the crowd. I was torn on this, liking the way I distracted him, but wanting so badly to be front and center.
Rosette, the pink haired slut from hell, never opened for them again, but Tristan’s female fans were nearly as bad. In just a few performances, I’d seen panties thrown on stage, a topless woman, and several with tops, try to grope Tristan, and heard things shouted at my boyfriend that no one should ever have to hear without a plate handy to throw. That was the hell.
I’d learned to focus on Jared when this happened. He was nearly as arresting as Tristan singing when he strummed on his guitar, a look of absolute bliss on his face. If the lead singer had been anyone but Tristan, I was convinced that Jared would have stolen the show. He was fond of taking off his shirt about halfway through the show, which the crowd always appreciated, showing that appreciation with screams and catcalls. How he was a relationship guy, and managed to stay single, I would never understand. Part of me wished I’d seen him first, like there was some chance that I may have been a different person before I set eyes on Tristan.
At the band’s third appearance at Decadence, I got to see firsthand why Tristan didn’t want me at the front of the stage, distracting him. In all fairness, though, there were extenuating circumstances…
Frankie had pulled me front and center between the opening act and the band coming out, spotting a friend of hers. It was a lovely Hispanic woman with an hourglass figure, and I saw right away that Frankie was interested in her. She’d told me many a time that this was her type.
We’d barely gotten introductions out before Tristan was filing on stage, the rest of the guys behind him. He’d spotted me before he even reached the mic. He sent me a slightly puzzled look, but that was all. He quickly looked away. He’d explained to me before that he needed to focus when he was up there, that no matter how many times he did it, it still gave him a strange bout of nerves, to the point where he couldn’t handle the level of distraction I caused him with my presence.
I was nearly close enough to touch him when he started singing, and I loved that. He’d never sing for me off stage, and I’d asked a lot. This was the next best thing, and I swayed to the beat, my eyes glued to the man I loved. The man I adored. The man I’d become completely obsessed with.
The downside to being that close to the stage was that it was also the most crowded part of the room, bodies that I didn’t know pressing up against me.
The band was on their second song when I felt big hands grip my hips, and a hot, hard body press against me from behind.
I stiffened. The bump and grind was a familiar element to the Vegas dance scene, but I usually managed to steer away from it, since I did actual dancing, and not the stand-up humping that some people called dancing.
The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds.
A greasy, unfamiliar voice whispered something suggestive in my ear, and I felt a strange erection poke into my behind. I didn’t even have time to react, or even consider how I wanted to react.
My eyes shot to the stage as the singing stopped, though the music kept going.
“Get the fuck off of her!” Tristan shouted into the mic about a millisecond before he was jumping off the stage.
The creeper behind me was ripped away, and I did my best ‘get the fuck out of the way’ move, backing up three steps fast.
I saw Tristan gripping the man’s shirt, saw him knee him in the groin hard, and saw him yell into his face.
That was as far as it got before security became involved, tearing the two men apart, but I saw the murder in Tristan’s eyes, and wondered just how far he would have gone.
It was pure chaos after that. I don’t think anyone knew quite what to do when the lead singer started the fight in the crowd, but needless to say, the performance was over after that.
Me, Frankie, and all of the guys ended up in the green room, and the strange perv from the crowd in another room, for obvious reasons.
It was a mess.
I was mad at Tristan, because it was a fact that he had overreacted.
Dean, the prick, was mad at me, even going so far as to tell me that it was all my fault.
That had Jared, Frankie, and Tristan all furious at Dean, though in all fairness, Tristan seemed to be mad at everyone in the world just then.
Tristan was in a state. He stood as far away from us all as he could get, staring at the wall, rage coming off him in waves of nearly visible hostility. He was a huge man, and when he was angry, he was scary to behold. Even the security guards gave him a wide berth the second we got into the room, and they were big men themselves.
We were waiting a good twenty minutes when I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I strode up to the security guard, asking, “What’s going on? Are we waiting for the police? Are they going to arrest him? Is that what’s going on? How long are we going to have to wait here before we know what’s going on?”
“We are waiting for answers, as well,” the one closest to me said, sounding calm and reasonable. “All we were told was to sit tight while this thing is figured out. No police were called, as far as I know.” The man put a hand on my shoulder as he said it. It was an innocent gesture. I knew that. Any sane person would have assumed that, as well.
But Tristan was not feeling sane. Sanity had left the building and he was striding across the room, shouting at the man to get his hands off me.
I watched him lose his mind, feeling a shot of fear at the sight, even knowing that it wasn’t directed at me.
Thank God he didn’t hit the man, just got in his face and started yelling like a maniac.
I had no clue what to do with him like this, so I just walked across the room to get away.
“Yoko Ono over there doesn’t want to deal with all of this, even though she started the whole fucking mess,” Dean said, his voice low and mean, but loud enough for me to hear.
I shot him a glare, but I wasn’t the only one that heard him, and Tristan stopped yelling at the security guard mid-sentence, striding across the room, a finger pointed at his roommate, his eyes wild with his fury. “What did I tell you, Dean? What did I fucking tell you? Not one word. That’s what I told you. Not one more fucking diss on my girl!”
I gasped, then covered my eyes when Tristan’s huge fist made solid contact with Dean’s face. I heard two more sickeningly fleshy thuds that meant a fist was hitting flesh, and then it stopped.
“I fucking warned you, you little prick!” Tristan shouted at him.
I was on the ground, curled into a little ball against the wall, not letting myself look. I hated fighting. I didn’t understand it, and I never knew how to deal with it.
I felt Frankie sliding down next to me, her arm going around my shoulder in a comforting hug.
“It’s okay. The guys pulled him off Dean.”
“It’s not okay. It’s so not okay that he’s acting like this. What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t kind of fun to see him punch Dean in the face. The prick deserved it…”
I opened my mouth to respond, when the door opened, and James Cavendish walked in.
It was the strangest thing, how all of the chaos seemed to just calm in his wake. He walked directly to Frankie and me, nodding to the men as he passed, and giving Dean, who was holding his jaw and glaring at Tristan, a puzzled look.
He was wearing a dark suit and looking spectacular and polished, as ever.
He nodded at us, studying me intently. “Are you all right, Danika?”
I nodded automatically, though I wasn’t quite sure what I was, just then.
“I heard you’d been assaulted again, and in my establishment, again. I can’t tell you how much that displeases me.”
“I’m perfectly fine. I’m more worri
ed about what’s going to happen to Tristan.”
“That’s what I’m here to work out. You see, I tend to think that men who assault women on the dance floor deserve a hard knee to the balls.”
Those words, coming out of the most sophisticated man I’d ever met, surprised a giggle out of me, which drew a small smile out of James.
“We’ve spoken to the man. He won’t be pressing charges, though the downside to that is that we also will not be pressing charges against him. I wanted to get your approval before we go ahead with this decision, since you were clearly the wronged party.”
I wanted to kiss him, I was so relieved. “So Tristan won’t be arrested?” I asked hopefully.
“If this resolution works for you, then no.”
“Yes, yes, it definitely works for me. Thank you thank you thank you.”
He just nodded, smiling. He tilted his head toward Dean. “What happened there?”
I grimaced, and Frankie answered. “The band is having issues. Largely, that Dean is an ass. Don’t worry about them, though. They’ve been friends forever. They’ll be best buds again within twenty-four hours, I guarantee it.”
James didn’t look convinced. “I hope so. They have a good career ahead of them, if they can just keep it together.”
“They will,” Frankie assured him, squeezing my shoulder. “How bad was the aftermath? How big is the mess out there?”
James hitched up an elegant shoulder in a careless shrug. “It’s manageable. They certainly made an impression. Don’t think they won’t have twice as big of a crowd for the next performance, though I wouldn’t make a habit of kneeing people in the crowd, if they want to keep the place packed, and the record people interested. Excuse me, ladies, I need to go speak to Tristan.”
My eyes widened as he strode right up to the walking powder keg, as though he had no fear at all. I wanted to shout, ‘No, stop, he’s liable to blow’, but I just watched as James spoke quietly to Tristan, somehow, miraculously, managing to calm the other man in a few short minutes.
After James worked that little miracle, Tristan came over to me almost instantly, crouching down in front of me, his eyes concerned. He touched my knee. “I’m sorry about that. Are you okay? Did I scare you?”
I eyed him narrowly. “What on earth did James say to you to get you to calm down so fast?”
His brows drew together, another storm gathering in his eyes. “James? It’s James, is it? When did you two get so close?”
“Tristan! Focus!” Frankie snapped.
He grimaced, his hand rubbing my knee comfortingly. “Sorry. He just told me that I was scaring you, and asked me if that was my intent.”
“That was crazy back there, Tristan. You were crazy. I don’t like this. It’s not okay that you’re attacking people, and I’m throwing plates, and shoes. I’m starting to think we aren’t good for each other.” Even as I said the words, I couldn’t believe that they were leaving my mouth. I couldn’t imagine ever letting go of him willingly, let alone encouraging the idea.
“Amen to that,” Dean muttered from across the room.
Tristan started to turn, his golden eyes getting scary again.
“Tristan! Focus!” Frankie barked. It actually worked. Again.
I was watching him carefully when a slow smile transformed his face. It was evil. His sweetest smile, all for me. I was utterly powerless to resist.
He leaned forward until our foreheads were touching, and his smile was the center of my universe.
“Hey, now, boo,” he said softly, rubbing my knee. “We both know that’s not true. We are good for each other. In fact, I think we’re just about perfect together. I’m sorry I lost my temper like that. I just saw him touching you, and the look on your face…I couldn’t stand it. You looked frightened. I’d do a lot of things to keep you from having to endure someone’s touch on you that you don’t want. In fact, I think I’d do anything on earth to prevent that from happening.”
I blinked rapidly, my eyes getting teary. It was just such a sweet feeling, to have someone looking out for me like that, even if I did know that it was crazy how far out of hand things had gotten as a result.
“Forgive me?” he whispered, still giving me that sweet, evil, irresistible smile. I felt like I was the most important thing in the world to him on the other end of that smile. The feeling was addictive.
I caved in a heartbeat, propelling myself forward, and throwing my arms around his neck. “I love you,” I said into his neck.
His big, warm, perfect arms squeezed me tight, and in that moment, it was all that I needed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The guys didn’t only stick to gigs at Decadence. Unfortunately, there was no place to go but down from a place like that. Dean wound up setting up a few extra performances for them. I thought that he was only doing this to try show how they didn’t need Jerry to manage them, but of course it only proved the opposite. Still, the guys were good sports, performing wherever they needed to, to try to drum up attention.
We wound up in a real dump of a club on a Tuesday night. It was one of those off the strip locations that probably wouldn’t last a year. Frankie and I watched them play from the bar, since I’d learned my lesson about going anywhere near the stage, though this place was hardly packed. Tristan insisted that I was too much of a distraction when he was performing, and though I could have wished that it was otherwise, because I ached to be close to him when he was singing like that—I respected his wishes.
Still, as I saw some scantily clad bimbo try to climb on stage with him, I had the urge to do something crazy.
I stifled the urge, if barely.
Instead, I just drank. And drank.
Frankie was no help, ordering tequila shots. She was in a diabolical mood, getting me drunk with an unabashed smile on her face.
She was smiling at me for so long, and so intently, that I finally had to ask her why.
She just shrugged. “You’re fun drunk, and I wanted to get some juicy gossip about stud muffin over there out of you. That’s all.”
I giggled. “Stud muffin,” I repeated back, then giggled again.
“You’re feeling pretty, I see.” Everyone seemed to have adopted my phrase for being drunk.
I nodded, glancing once at the stage, which instantly made me a little sullen, since I had to stay so far away from him, when all I wanted to do was get closer.
“So tell me, is he the Dom I think he is?” she asked.
I shot her a startled look. “A Dom? Excuse me? Like S&M?”
She snorted. “A Dom is not all about the S&M, and I don’t see that in Tristan. No, what I mean is, does he dominate you in bed? Does he take control of you like that? And is he heavy on the kink?”
I blushed, but this was Frankie, who’d always been beyond open with me about her own preferences, so I didn’t even think about not telling her. “He is. I never thought about it quite like that, but he definitely takes control. I need him to, and he always knew it.”
That had her brows shooting up. “So you’d say you’re a submissive?”
I bit my lip, thinking that the term couldn’t possibly apply to me, of all people. Except in that one thing… finally, I nodded. “I think I am, at least in bed.”
She snorted again. “Obviously it’s only in bed. What about the kink? What have you two tried?”
I pursed my lips, playing with an empty shot glass. “He’s restrained me twice. I didn’t think I’d like it, I thought it was for him, but the more I think about it, it was for me, and I loved it. I don’t think it’s his usual thing, but he’s really good at it.”
She nodded. “I think you two have hit a sweet spot. Miss control freak Danika could use a little escape into the land of submission. I’ll talk to him about it, k? If anyone knows about this stuff, you’re looking at her.”
I nodded, shooting him a look. “I really…really like it. He’s made sex so wonderful for me, but the restraints, and the blindfolds…it’s like icing
on the cake.”
She laughed. “I agree. Totally. That’s great. You know, the first time I saw him, I thought he could be part of the Dom club with us.”
I studied her, wondering who the ‘us’ was. I was too drunk to keep such a curious question to myself. “Who is in the Dom club?”
She smiled, and it was pure mischief. “Well, it’s me, and I would bet money that Tryst is about to join. And one other, but I have to swear you to secrecy before I tell you.”
I was nodding before she finished talking. Who on earth would I tell?
“You can’t even tell your fuck anonymous group about it. In fact, you especially can’t tell them.”
I nodded again, simply dying to know now. “I swear I won’t tell a soul, not even Tristan.”
“Well, him you could probably tell, because, as I said, he’s about to join the club.”
“Oh my God! Tell me now! You’re killing me!”
She leaned in close, whispering into my ear. “James Cavendish.”
I was floored. He was so rich, and polished, and sophisticated, and well, just plain beautiful. “Are you shitting me?”
She shook her head. “He’s into the hardcore stuff, though, nothing you’d be on board for, trust me. He makes me look like a soft Master, and I am not that.”
I rolled this around in my head for a good ten minutes before I spoke. I was fascinated by the idea that someone that high profile, could have such an unusual sexual preference and it not be public knowledge.
“That’s crazy,” I finally said.
She nodded. “I know. But doesn’t it make him even hotter?”
I laughed, because there was no denying it; even to a lesbian, the man was hot. “I’m not sure. It really depends on what you mean by hardcore. I’m not into pain.”
“Pain is what I mean. Yes, you can be sure that one is not for you. Though I do hear that he is spectacular in bed.”
I let out a dreamy sigh, thinking of Tristan. “So is Tristan. Spectacular.”
Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1) Page 28
