Defile (Civil Corruption Book 2)

by Jessica Prince

  “It’s not,” she replied, her tone cold and flat. “One slip doesn’t change the fact that you’re toxic for me in every way.” Each word from her kiss-swollen lips was a lash against my skin, leaving me flayed and bleeding.

  “I’d call you begging me to fuck you way more than a slip,” I sneered. “Fuck me, never had a woman go that crazy for my cock in all my life.” I wanted my words to sting, to create even a fraction of the pain she was causing me.

  Tate’s top lip curled in disgust as she hugged herself tighter. “And that right there just proves my point. You’re a child, Declan. An immature, selfish child.”

  I took a step forward, invading her personal space and standing so close she had to tip her head all the way back to maintain eye contact. “You can stand here and deny what just happened all you want, but it’s a goddamn lie. It’s been building for weeks, and tonight you lost control. Rest assured, baby, you’ll lose control again. Because, toxic or not, we’re in each other’s fucking blood. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t ignore what we are.”

  “Watch me,” she challenged, even though I could see how her pupils dilated and her chest quivered with a shaky breath at my threat. I was right. I was in her blood, and she’d eventually cave.

  Leaning down farther, I lowered my voice and said, “You’re it for me. And I’m it for you. Been that way since we were seven goddamn years old.”

  “Is that what you told those skanks in Australia right before you fucked them?” she threw back in my face.

  That lash was worse than all the rest, and I feared I might bleed out right there at her feet. But unwilling to let her see that she’d struck another blow, I continued on. “Lucky for you I’m feeling generous, so I won’t make you beg next time you come to me.”

  “Go ahead and hold your breath while you wait for that to happen,” she snarked. Christ, she’d always been a fucking vision when she got riled up. “Get out of my apartment.”

  Pasting a smirk on my lips, I said, “See you around, neighbor.” Then I quickly dressed and did the only thing harder than having to let her go the first time.

  I walked away. And the only reason I was able to do that without losing my mind was because, unlike last time, I knew this wasn’t permanent.

  I’d have her again, and for good. If it was the last goddamn thing I ever did.

  Tatum

  My feet remained rooted to the floor, unable to move as Declan leisurely dressed and sauntered out of my bedroom like he hadn’t a care in the world. It was only after I heard the front door click shut that I was able to unglue myself from my spot. Running on bare feet toward the living room, I skidded to a halt where I’d dropped my purse earlier and began frantically rummaging through it, in search of my cell. There was only one person I could call after the shit storm that had just gone down between Declan and me. Camden would lose his mind. My parents would probably both go into cardiac arrest at the same time. That left me with only one other option.

  “Tate? Hey, honey, it’s really late. Are you all right?”

  At the sound of Lyla’s concerned voice, the floodgates opened. “No, I’m not all right,” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “I screwed up, and now I don’t know what to do.”

  I poured it all out for her, every dirty detail, from what Gwen had said in the coffee shop and how it fucked with my head, making me question everything I thought I knew about Declan, to the epic fight we had right before I kicked him out. By the time I was done, I’d cried so much I’d completely run out of tears. My eyes were puffy and itchy, and I could no longer breathe through my nose. I was a freaking mess.

  “Wow. That’s just… wow.”

  “That’s all you’ve got to say?” I squeaked through the line. “I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown here!”

  “Babe, I think it’s safe to say you’re well past the verge.”

  “Thanks,” I grumbled, looking at the bottle of wine on the counter longingly. But I refused to go there again. Booze was what got me into this mess in the first place.

  “I’m sorry,” Lyla giggled. “Just give me a second to wrap my head around this, okay? I mean, I haven’t been laid since well before I kicked Daniel out. I’m a bit envious here.”

  That was a blast of cold water to the face. I’d been so wrapped up in my own stupid drama that I’d let myself momentarily forget about my friend’s troubles. Not only was she dealing with the loss of her brother, but her marriage had been circling the drain for years before she finally pulled the plug on it just six months back.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling like the world’s biggest asshole.

  “Stop apologizing. You’re allowed to call me when you’re freaking out. I’m not a piece of glass, Tatum. I won’t break. Besides, it’s time for me to start getting on with my life.”

  God, I loved her. “Yeah, but you’ve been dealing with one blow after another lately. I should’ve been more compassionate to that.”

  “You’re the most compassionate person I know,” she replied, and hearing the smile in her voice did wonders to alleviate some of my guilt. “You get any more compassionate and you’ll explode, raining glitter and rainbows down on everyone in a five-mile radius.”

  I laughed in return. It was a nice change of pace from the hurricane of emotions I’d been dealing with all night. “I miss you,” I told her. “I wish you were here right now.”

  “Me too, honey. You know, I’ve been doing some thinking lately, and maybe it’s time for me to take a little vacation.”

  A smile stretched across my face so wide my cheeks hurt. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. And I’ve always wondered what Seattle’s like.”

  “We can explore together.”

  “I’d love that,” she said softly, the sorrow leaking back into her words before she changed the subject. “So, what are you going to do about Declan?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered on a heavy exhale. “It’s not like I can just avoid him, you know? I work for the damn band.”

  “Maybe it’s time the two of you sat down and actually talked,” she suggested. “You went from cutting him out of your life completely to fighting whenever you’re in the same room. What if you guys just sat down like adults and talked shit out? You’d probably be able to move past everything and reach some sort of truce.”

  “Maybe,” I replied reluctantly. “I’m just not sure how well that would go over. Like you said, we can’t even be in the same room without blowing up at each other. I’m not sure either of us can keep our tempers in check long enough to have a civil discussion.”

  “You won’t know unless you try, Tater tot,” she responded sympathetically. “I don’t know what’s going to happen between you guys, but I do know you two can’t keep going at this rate. You’ll destroy each other.”

  “I know,” I conceded, my head starting to throb. “You’re right. I’ll try, I promise.”

  “Silver lining, I’ll be there as a buffer soon enough. I won’t hesitate to smack some sense into either of you if I think you’re getting stupid.”

  “I love you, Ly. Get here soon, okay?”

  “I love you too, Tater tot. And I’ll call when I get something set up.”

  We hung up and I headed back to my bedroom. I stepped through the doorway and looked at the state of my bed, the covers destroyed and pillows scattered everywhere. The smell of sex mingled with Declan’s cologne still lingered in the air, and I made the decision right then that it was time to break in my new sofa. There was no way in hell I was sleeping in that bed.

  At least not until I had a chance to wash Declan off my sheets.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tatum

  “You need to make those boys come around, Tate. They built serious momentum with their performance at the AMAs. We need to build on that.”

  I rolled my eyes skyward, thankful I didn’t run into anyone as I clomped down the sidewalk toward Bernie’s. I was in desperate need of coffee. And
sleep. And a migraine pill. It had been a month since my night with Declan, and while I was grateful that working as their manager had kept me busy, I was still floundering. I hadn’t realized exactly what I was agreeing to when I took the job. Being their manager was one thing, but since they’d canned their personal assistant for apparently being a raging bitch from Hell, I was also doing her work as well. And there weren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done.

  “I’m aware, Eugene,” I replied in a flat voice through the phone at my ear. “You’ve only said this exact same thing twenty times.”

  Civil Corruption’s agent blustered through the line. For a man who looked scarily similar to Santa Claus, he was a real pain in the ass. Between him and the guys’ publicist, Brenda, who was constantly on my case about keeping Mace and Killian out of the tabloids, I was in over my head. Add in the fact that dealing with four grown-ass men was like trying to herd a bunch of toddlers and I was dangerously close to committing homicide.

  “It’s one damn video. I don’t understand why they’re being so difficult.”

  It was the same argument Eugene and I had been having for the past month. “They’re not being difficult,” I replied, the same way I had every other time he’d brought it up. “The label agreed to letting them have a break after the last tour. It’s only been a few months, and they’re already pushing to release the first single, and shoot the music video. They’re just asking for a little time. Garrett and Gwen are leaving for a short honeymoon next week. They all agreed to get back to work once that’s over.”

  “It’s bad enough they refused to tour for this album—”

  I cut him off, officially over this conversation. “They didn’t refuse. They’re going to tour, for Christ’s sake. It’s just going to be shorter than their others.”

  “Three months is hardly an adequate amount of time to promote a new album,” he grumbled sullenly. I’d quickly come to learn that the man lived in a perpetual state of grumpiness, which made working with him a real freaking joy.

  “It is what it is, Eugene. You seem to be under the misconception that I have more control over these guys than I actually do.”

  The old man sighed like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Well, at least you handle them better than Chris did.”

  “Yeah well, Chris was a dickhead. What can I say?”

  “That may be,” Eugene drawled, disapproval dripping from his words. “But at least he pretended to have an air of professionalism when we spoke.”

  Ooh, burn, old man. “And look how well that turned out,” I snorted indignantly. “He might’ve kissed your ass, but he’s also the reason for the media shit storm you and Brenda only just finished dealing with.”

  “You’re rather blunt, aren’t you?”

  The guy was really starting to get on my nerves. He had a nasty habit of speaking down to me, and I got the distinct impression that he felt women as a whole were little more than bumbling idiots. Apparently he’d refused to move out of the forties and join the rest of us in the new millennium, where women ran the world.

  “If I were you, I’d get used to it. I’m not going to blow smoke up your ass, because that’s not part of my job description, but what I will do is keep the guys in check to the best of my ability—which, from what I’ve discovered, is better than most people are capable of.”

  Another aggrieved sigh echoed from his end. “Fine,” he relented seconds later. “We’ll revisit this topic in a few weeks.”

  “Looking forward to it,” I deadpanned. The door for Bernie’s came into view, and I ended the call without saying goodbye as I pushed my way in. At least I’d managed to buy myself a couple more weeks before having to kick the guys’ asses into gear drill sergeant–style.

  The place smelled like Heaven. The scent of espresso beans and sugar filled the air, and I breathed as deeply as I could, wanting to hold that smell in my lungs for as long as possible. It fueled my soul the way caffeine fueled my body, giving me a much-needed boost of energy.

  “Hey, girl,” Gina greeted from behind the counter.

  I smiled adoringly at my barista goddess and started for the counter, then heard someone call my name. At the sight of Gwen sitting comfortably at a table in the far back corner, I made a detour.

  “Hey,” I said, leaning down to give her a hug. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” Doing a quick scan of the room, I spotted Ian sitting two tables away, alert and mindful of his surroundings as always. As Gwen had said, I’d gotten so used to him or one of the other security guys skulking about over the past several weeks that I barely noticed them.

  “Needed a change of scenery,” she replied, waving for me to take the chair across from her.

  As soon as my butt hit the wood, Gina popped by, setting my usual coffee in front of me. “Oh thank God,” I sighed, lifting the cup to my lips and taking my first sip. “This is so good. I could kiss you right now.”

  They both giggled as I continued to drink, not giving a damn that I was nearly burning my tongue off.

  “You look tired, honey,” Gwen stated.” Have you been getting any sleep?”

  I grinned at her over the lid and asked, “Is that your polite way of telling me I look like shit?”

  Gina pulled up a chair and sat down. “Well, no offense, but you are looking a little wrecked.”

  There was no way I could take offense to that, mainly because it was the God’s honest truth. I’d rolled out of bed that morning so exhausted that I threw my hair in a messy bun, officially entering day three of not washing it. I skipped makeup completely, and I was pretty sure the clothes I grabbed off my bedroom floor were the same sweats I’d worn earlier in the week. The right pant leg had a stain on it, probably from the cold pizza I’d been eating for breakfast while dealing with the fallout of Killian’s latest sexcapades at a club the night prior. I’d been bleary-eyed and half asleep as Brenda railed at me over Skype, and a glop of sauce had fallen in my lap. I hadn’t even bothered with a napkin, choosing instead to scrape it up with my finger and pop it in my mouth. Like I said, I was floundering.

  “That’s because I am wrecked,” I answered honestly, placing my cup on the table so I could rub the tension from my forehead. “Trying to keep those guys under control is more painful than trying to bathe a dozen cats. What I really need is the ability to clone myself… or to find a personal assistant for the band who doesn’t suck and isn’t a world-class bitch.”

  Gwen snorted, having had an up-close-and-terrible encounter with their last PA. “Believe me, you won’t find anyone worse than Kimber.”

  “That’s not the issue,” I whined. “The issue is not being able to find anyone better. Swear to God, the women in this city are worse than a pack of horny old men hopped up on Viagra. I need help, but each applicant is worse than the next. One woman actually claimed that she’d be perfect for the job because she’s stalked Mason for so long that she already knows him well enough to anticipate his every need. And she’s one of the better candidates!”

  They both burst into laughter, drawing the attention from the few patrons scattered around the coffee shop and sending poor Ian on even higher alert.

  “Gina, why don’t you apply for the job?” Gwen asked once she’d gotten ahold of herself.

  I jumped on the suggestion like a lion would a gazelle with a broken leg. “Yes!” I shouted a little too loudly. “Omigod! Why didn’t I think of that? You’d be perfect!”

  Gina, whose pretty olive complexion had taken on a sickly shade of gray, gaped at me like I’d just suggested she have a three-way with Donald Trump and the Demogorgon from Stranger Things. “How the hell do you figure that? I serve coffee, for Christ’s sake. I don’t know the first thing about being a personal assistant.”

  “You’re smart,” I started, ticking the reasons off on my fingers. “You’re reliable. You’ve already met all the guys in the band and didn’t get a restraining order taken out on you. You’re our friend, so we know we can tr
ust you. And the most important reason of all, I’m desperate. Please, Gina. Pleeeeease,” I begged, clasping my hands together in front of me.

  “I can’t!” she cried. “That’s ridiculous. None of those are good enough reasons to hire a barista to be Civil Corruption’s PA.”

  “Yes they are!” I exclaimed. “Look, you’re basically just going to be a glorified babysitter. You’ll do things like maintain their schedule, and keep Mace from drinking himself to death and Killian from whipping his dick out in public places. If I have to handle one more picture of him nailing some chick in the bathroom of a public place, I’m going to gouge my eyeballs out.” Gina’s face fell at that. I could only assume it was because I hadn’t made the job sound all that glamorous, so I quickly added, “And it’s not like you’ll be doing this alone. I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”

  “And the guys start touring at the end of next month,” Gwen offered, sweetening the deal. “It’s three months, all expenses paid across the globe! Tate and I will be there with you the whole time, and when you’re not working, we’ll sightsee, and shop, and drink French wine and Italian coffee. How can you say no to that?”

  I could see the excitement starting to brighten her eyes, so I did my best to quell the sudden nausea roiling in my stomach at the thought of three months of near-constant contact with Declan and kept a beaming smile pasted on my face. I knew I needed to take Lyla’s advice and actually sit down to talk with him, but I hadn’t found the courage. And believe me, managing a band when you’re simultaneously trying to avoid its lead singer because you can’t stop having sex dreams about him is exhausting.

  I was starting to lose my mind. Every time we were in the same room, my body would react in very unladylike ways at the memory of that night. The asshole had been right. I wanted more, no matter how bad for me it was. I felt like I was walking on a layer of thin ice, carrying a thousand pounds of sexual frustration on my back. At any second, the ground would give and I’d be left drowning. I needed to stop being such a coward and talk to him already, but that was easier said than done.