by Anna Brooks
“And you don’t have to be such a bitch.”
Her eyes narrow at me, but she doesn’t argue. Because I’m right. “She was fine.”
This chick is mental. “Whatever you need to tell yourself. She’s been through something pretty damn terrible, and she hasn’t had time to deal with it. Then you put her in that situation. She was terrified; she is terrified. If you can’t see that written all over her, you’re more fucked up in the head than I originally thought.”
“It’s my job to make sure she stays relevant and—”
“My job is to protect her, and that’s exactly what I fuckin’ did.”
She shakes her head. “You ruined a seventeen-thousand-dollar dress.”
“I’ll pay for the dress.” Quinn finally steps out of the bathroom as she’s tying a robe.
“Oh, for Christ sake, I know you will.” Gail stomps a foot. “Makeup’s going to need to touch you up. Let’s go.”
Quinn drops her head as she walks past me, and I clench my fists together to keep from dragging her away.
Quinn
I know he’s mad at me. I’m mad at myself. We’re sitting alone in my kitchen right now. Beverly prepared dinner and then left for the evening. Gail is at her penthouse, which is about twenty minutes from here.
“Wes—”
“Just eat your dinner so you can go to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” When he doesn’t say anything else, I add, “I’m sorry.”
He sighs and sets his fork down on his plate, the steak nearly finished while my chicken is untouched. “Stop apologizing to me. I’m not mad at you.”
It’s all I’ve done since we left the shoot. After I went back out there for the swimsuit portion, I was nothing but a huge mess. Wes stood there, so close but so far away at the same time, glaring at me. He was pissed I was wearing dental floss and had no qualms about showing it.
“You’re mad at me.”
He stands up, throws his plate in the sink, and walks out of the kitchen. I follow him, not even questioning why I’m chasing him. I just know, of all the people in my life, I actually care about what he thinks about me. Up the stairs and through his bedroom, I find him leaning on the dresser with his head hung. “Wes.”
“You don’t want to be here right now. Go finish your food, take a shower, and go to bed.”
“I do want to be here, with you.”
“You don’t.” He spins around and hits me with a look so dangerous I actually gasp. “Trust me.”
I take a step closer, the carpeted floor silencing my movement. “I do trust you. I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anybody in my life.”
“Then leave.”
“No.”
He crosses his arms, his bulky upper body so full of muscle I’m pretty sure there’s not even an ounce of fat on it. “So you’ll listen to everyone else, do whatever the fuck they want you to do without giving a shit how it makes you feel, but when I tell you to leave me alone, you finally grow a backbone?”
“Yes.”
His lips tilt up in the smallest of smirks, and I feel that all the way in my bones. I take another step closer, and he drops his arms. One more and he’s advancing on me now. I finally heed his warning and back up, but it’s too late. He grabs my arms and pulls me against him, then walks us until my back is against the wall.
“Why the fuck are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Don’t play games.”
I lick my lips. “I’m not.”
His rough hands slide up, and he holds my face. “Then what’re you doin’ to me, baby?”
“I don’t want you mad at me.”
His eyes catch mine as I’m searching his face. “I’m not mad. I’m pissed, Quinn. I’m so fucking pissed because they were touching you. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to stand there and let that shit happen? Especially when I know you’re uncomfortable. My job, my fucking instincts to protect you, go further than they should, and you know it.”
He drops his hands and pushes one through his hair.
“I don’t have a choice,” I admit.
“You do.”
“You don’t understand.”
In a flash, he’s holding me again, his eyes boring into mine, and I swear he can see right through me, just like I’ve always wanted. “Then make me. Help me understand.”
Just like I knew they would, tears burn in the back of my eyes. “I can’t.”
“You have to.”
I can’t. Nobody else can know about him. I trust Wesley, but I also know he’d try to fix it, and I don’t want that. So I do something stupid. I push up on my toes and press my mouth to his.
My obvious inexperience is laughable, and after a second, he takes a step back. “Fuck, Quinn.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Dammit.” He turns around, and I run away to my room across the hall.
Slamming my door, I rush to the shower where I hope the sound of the water will drown out my crying. Stripping my clothes off, I step under the hot spray and take forever to wash, wanting nothing more than to have the secrets wash down the drain too. I don’t want to get out, but I need to, and I’m praying that when I do, he’s already asleep. But I know him, and he won’t sleep until I do.
My tears have dried up, so I slip on some pajamas, then crawl under the covers.
The tour starts tomorrow, so I need a good night’s sleep. I’m worried he’s going to find someone to replace him because I’m an idiot. If he’s still here in the morning, I’ll just pretend this didn’t happen. I can be professional. I can fake it. It’s what I’m good at.
Except I don’t want to fake it anymore. I don’t know how much longer I can. I’m so fucking tired, but I can’t ever get enough sleep.
Chapter 4
Wesley
“Valentine. Valentine. Valentine.” The crowd, all twenty thousand of them, chants her name. She paces in front of me, shaking out her hands and mumbling something I can’t make out. She hasn’t barely said anything to me all day, but I know she’s embarrassed about last night, so I’m giving her as much space as I can. Since the first couple of shows are close to home, we’re able to drive. And the entire way here she’s been closed off, but I can’t let her start her tour like this.
“Quinn, look at me.”
She stops, turns her body, and lifts her head.
“This normal?”
“What?”
“How nervous you are right now? Are you normally this nervous?”
She flattens her lips and shakes her head. “I… No.”
“Talk to me.”
“He could be out there. Watch…” Her hand flies to her throat as she gags. “Watching me and it freaks me out.”
I grab her shoulders and lean down. “He might be. I won’t lie about that, but I’m gonna be close. So close the entire time, and I promise you he won’t get anywhere near you. I’ve got Landon, Brodie, Damien, and Lincoln surrounding the stage. There are six other men in the crowd looking for anyone suspicious on top of the venue’s security and police. You’re safe.”
The door shakes when Gail pounds on it. “Two minutes!”
Quinn startles, and I bring my thumb up to rest on the pulse point in her neck. The rapid thump-thump-thump worries me. “Take a breath.”
She does. The fear in her eyes isn’t hidden very well, but she also has so much trust there that it makes me puff my chest out.
“Listen to me. I don’t care about Gail right now. I don’t care about the people out there chanting your name. I don’t care about anybody else but you. And Quinn, think it’s safe to say, I can read you pretty damn good. So if I sense that it’s getting too much or if I get a bad feeling about anything, you’re done. If you, at any time, want me to get you away”—I pause and grab a rubber band out of my pocket—“tie your hair up.”
I slide the elastic over her hand and let it settle on her wrist.
“Thank you.”
I gli
de my hands up and hold her face, then lean down and kiss her. She gasps, and I nip at her lower lip, then slide my tongue against hers, and holy hell, she tastes good. Her fingers squeeze my arms, and her entire body relaxes. I pull away and rest my forehead on hers. “Have a good show.”
As I walk out of the room, I don’t look back, but I close the door behind me and cross my arms so she can have a minute to herself. Gail looks up from her phone and opens her mouth, probably to yell or some shit, but I hold my hand up. “She’ll be out in a minute.”
I bring my arm up to my mouth and talk into the mic attached to my sleeve at my wrist. “Sixty seconds.”
The crowd is getting rowdy, and as I wait for her to come out, I observe everyone around me. The backup dancers all huddle by the stage entrance, and the stage crew waits anxiously on the other side. Nobody seems out of place, but the tapping of Gail’s high heel is making me want to rip it off her and shove it somewhere that would probably get me arrested.
The knob turns, and before Quinn is even all the way out of the room, I have her tucked under my arm. “Walking.” I let the guys know, and when we reach the side of the stage where she’s going to go on, I turn her to face me. “Good?”
“I am now.” She smiles shyly at me, and I nod, too amped up to think she’s cute right now.
“Let’s go, people!” Gail shouts, and Quinn rolls her eyes. The lights dim, and a thunderous round of applause makes the entire building shake. As Quinn walks out onstage, she gets into position in the middle, looks over at me, bites her lip, then drops her head as the curtain rises.
Quinn
It feels so good to be back up on stage. Despite the attack and all the other things that are going on around me and in my head, this is the one place that always makes me feel normal.
I don’t normally try to do these moves extra sexy or anything. I always feel stupid, to be completely honest, but knowing Wes is right there, watching me, makes me put a little extra sway to my hips. I know I shouldn’t keep looking at him, but I can’t help it.
And his stupid sunglasses make it impossible to tell if he’s looking back at me or not.
The crowd is electric tonight, and I feed off that energy. It makes me feel alive. It makes me happy. I haven’t been out on tour in over a year, and I miss it. Performing has always been my favorite thing to do. I love singing, and writing songs can be great, too. But when I get out on the stage, a whole ’nother persona takes over me.
That’s how my mom was, too. I remember watching her sing, and every time, I’d think about how she didn’t even seem like my mom up on stage. She was always great, for sure, but on stage, she was magical.
And even though the fans are amazing as always, I perform like they’re not even watching. I use the confidence I feel in the spotlight to flirt with Wes like I wish I could after the lights go down. My muscles flex, and my hips roll, but the space between my thighs burns in the very best way possible.
By the time I’m finishing my last song, a sheen of sweat covers every inch of my body, and my senses are all heightened. I wave at the crowd one last time before skipping off the stage, wearing a huge smile on my face from the rush flowing through me.
“Great show, everybody. Thank you,” I tell the dancers and stagehands as I walk off the stage. Directly to Wes.
His face is impassive, but he slides a robe that he got from somewhere over my shoulders and puts an arm around me, then begins leading me to the dressing room. I was hoping to avoid Gail, but I knew it would be impossible. “Quinn. Come here.”
I begin to pull away from Wes, but his arm tightens.
“What?”
“Jaysyn is looking for you.”
“No,” Wes growls. “She needs to change, and she needs to eat.”
Gail raises a brow. “She needs to go talk to Jaysyn. Quinn. Now.”
Shit, I know that tone. It’s worse than the mom tone. It’s the I will embarrass the shit out of you tone. I look up at Wes and turn in his arm. “I have to. I’ll be right back.” When I start to follow Gail, he comes with me. I knew he would.
“He’s in here.” She stops in front of a dressing room.
“She’s not going in alone.”
“Yes, she is. Jaysyn is her opening act. She’s safe with him.”
Wes pulls me behind him and leans down, getting all up in Gail’s face. “What part of she doesn’t go anywhere without me do you not understand?”
“What part of this is her career and it’s my job to manage it don’t you understand?”
“The part where you make her do shit that’s dangerous without giving a fuck. That’s the part I don’t understand,” he answers without missing a beat. “Wanna explain it to me?”
She huffs but knocks on Jaysyn’s door. He opens it, the obvious and overwhelming smell of marijuana leaking out of the door.
“Hey, baby,” Jaysyn says to me.
Wes turns around and lifts his sunglasses off his head and glances past Jaysyn. “This isn’t going to fuckin’ happen.”
“I’ll be okay,” I assure him.
“Quinn, I swear to Christ…”
“I’ll be fine.” I have to pry his fingers off my wrist, but I walk into the dressing room.
Jaysyn winks at Wes as he closes the door, but before I know what’s happening, Wes is kicking it back open. “You wanna talk, you do it in front of me, jackass.”
“Whoa, man.” Jaysyn holds his hands up.
A couple of guys dressed exactly like Wes with either black suit pants or dark wash jeans and jackets with white shirts underneath approach and flank him. “Need a hand, man?” one asks Wes.
“Nope.”
“Jesus Christ,” Gail screeches. “Back up so I can get the fucking picture.”
“What picture?” I ask.
She holds up her camera phone. “The one with you kissing him as you leave his dressing room. I need to leak it tonight, so it’s out there for tomorrow night’s show.”
I don’t get to say anything else because, in a matter of two seconds, Jaysyn slams his mouth to mine, Gail’s phone flashes as she takes the picture, and Wes is yanking me away. He pushes me into the arms of one of the other guys and stalks into the dressing room, slamming the door behind him. “You can’t leave him in there alone with him,” I tell the guy whose arms are wrapped around my waist, preventing me from barging in.
“He’ll be fine.”
“Wesley. Get out here!” I shout. “Shit.” He’s gonna hurt him. He’s going to physically hurt him, and he’s going to get in trouble, and then he’s going to get arrested, and he won’t be here for me, and I need him. Dammit. It was a great show, and of course, Gail has to ruin it… like always.
Faster than I would have thought, the door opens again, and he takes one large step out directly to Gail and yanks her phone out of her hand. “Doesn’t matter if you delete it, I already sent it.” Wesley’s jaw clamps shut, tight. He drops her phone on the ground, stomps on it, then pulls me to him.
“We’re leaving.” The other guys nod at him and follow us out. He completely bypasses the dressing room, but I really didn’t have anything in there I needed anyway. When we reach the back door, another two men appear out of nowhere, so now, two walk in front of us and the other two behind us.
Wesley puts me in the back seat and rushes around to the driver’s side. He’s between two other identical SUVs, and as we make our way to the freeway, they all split off in different directions. “Wes—”
“Not yet. I need to concentrate on other shit and keep you safe. We’ll talk when we get home.”
I shut up, pull the robe tighter, and bounce my leg.
Luckily, we make it back without incident. He stops at the big black wrought iron gate and types in a code. I can’t see them, but I know at least two guys are doing rounds outside the house. Wes escorts me inside and directly to the kitchen. This is the last night we’re back home.
Beverly left some meals warming in the oven, and Wes takes the plates
out and sets them on the counter so hard I’m afraid they’re going to break. “Is this how it’s going to be every night?” I ask.
“You like other men touching you?” he asks. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m reading this shit between us all fuckin’ wrong, but I didn’t take you for that kind of girl, Quinn.”
“I’m not.” I gasp. “I didn’t want him to kiss me.”
“But you let him. You walked right into his dressing room. If I wouldn’t have been there, what else would you have let him do to you for a fucking photo op?”
His anger makes me feel so small. I hate that he thinks badly of me. “I… Nothing more.”
He laughs with absolutely no humor. “I see. So you have no problem lettin’ other guys put their mouth all over you? Where’s the line, Quinn? They can what? Touch your tits? It’s okay above the waist, or would you let them stick their hand between your legs, too?”
“Stop it,” I whisper.
“Why? ’Cause I’m right?”
“No.”
“Then tell me,” he roars. “Tell me why you let him put his filthy mouth all over you.”
“No.” I can’t. He can’t know. Nobody can.
He grabs his plate and throws it across the room. I flinch in my seat, and when he turns around and storms out of the kitchen, I drop my head, letting the white silk robe absorb my tears.
Chapter 5
Wesley
I unlock her bedroom door and then close it again behind me. She may be angry with me or whatever the fuck, but she is not locking herself away from me. I have never, in my life, been more pissed off than I was when Jaysyn put his disgusting gold-teeth filled mouth on hers.
On lips that are soft and sweet that I claimed earlier tonight. On a mouth that deserves so much more than that. On my motherfucking mouth.
I slide down and sit on the floor, resting my head on the wall.
I know I fucked up tonight. I get it. Don’t become emotionally attached. It’s rule fucking one, and I’ve tried. But I totally failed, and I’m not even sorry about it.
