The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  “No, I wanna see this. I’m sure it’ll be good.” His lips curled with obvious amusement. “How long on the food?”

  “Forty-five minutes to an hour.”

  “Perfect.”

  I didn’t think so, but I tucked my legs underneath me and leaned forward to snag my iPad hoping to distract myself from the show. I took no pleasure in watching it anymore. Like I needed another reminder of how trapped I was by it. I settled back into the couch and opened up an internet browser.

  Several times I felt like his eyes were on me, but I resisted the urge to look up to verify. I was absorbed in my task and after a while I could tell that he’d stopped. When I did eventually sneak a peek at him, he was still staring at the TV. For whatever reason he seemed completely enthralled by the show.

  “You’re good,” he commented a short while later.

  “Huh?” I popped out an earbud.

  “The show’s corny as hell, but you’re not. You’re good at what you do. The acting,” he explained as I continued to stare blankly. “You should do what you said earlier. Go for more serious roles.”

  “Thanks.” My cheeks warmed from his praise. I’d had more flowery acclaim from critics. So why did his approval make me feel all warm and tingly inside?

  “What’re you looking at over there?” he asked eyes back on the screen.

  “Nothing,” I lied after a quick guilty glance in his direction.

  Suddenly, he moved, sliding down the sectional until his thigh touched mine. Before I had a chance to clear my search history, he’d confiscated my iPad. “Hey,” I protested and tried to get it back. He held it out of my reach and his fingers began deftly swiping across the display. I gulped nervously. When his head lifted, his eyes were dark and shining.

  “Nothing, huh?” He arched disbelieving brows.

  Busted.

  “You’re good at what you do, too,” I understated, because he was incredibly talented. Not that I was into hard rock. I was more of a pop music fan, but I could appreciate it even if it wasn’t my thing. And I was intrigued enough by what I’d heard to have started the downloading process on the entire Tempest catalog.

  He nodded offhandedly as his finger continued to move along my iPad.

  Uh-oh. Shoot. YouTube videos hadn’t been all I’d been looking at. He was going to see the article I’d been reading, so I decided to make a preemptive strike. “Bryan Jackson was your guitarist?”

  I felt the rock solid tension in him as it transferred from his leg to mine.

  “And your best friend?”

  “Was.” He growled that one word reply, his eyes turning that dark mahogany as his ire rose.

  “Because of her?” I bravely or foolishly forged on. “Lace Lowell?”

  He tossed my iPad on the coffee table. It clattered loudly on the glass surface. He sprang up so abruptly that it startled me. He moved to the windows and stood with his back to me, his ringed fingers curled into fists on his hips.

  “She’s beautiful.” Since I was digging a hole I might as well make it deep. And she was. Lace was a total and complete knockout, and the two of them together had made a gorgeous couple.

  He didn’t respond. Obviously I’d made him mad. I should’ve quit pushing, but I wanted to keep him talking, even if it meant provoking him.

  I got up and moved beside him, sneaking a peek at his profile. His jaw was set. His expression was dark. He was definitely ticked. “What went wrong, Warren?” Intuitively aware that knowing the answer to that question was a key to unlocking him, I pressed on. “I’d like to know…so I can understand.”

  “Enough.” He wasn’t just mad. He was furious. Because I’d looked him up or because of the subject matter I’d delved into, I wasn’t sure. Maybe a bit of both.

  He shifted to face me, his hand on my shoulders, his fingers pressing in. I don’t think he meant to hurt me. It almost seemed as if he was going to pull me closer, but he didn’t. He took a deep breath and dropped his arms.

  Alex was always warning me that my stubbornness would get me into trouble one day. But I refused to let it go. I was nearing the heart of what was troubling him. What kept him so closed off. Angry. Sullen. Depressed enough to have been on that bridge.

  “Why won’t you talk about it, Warren?” I persisted, moving in front of him so I could look directly into his dark eyes. “Why would Lace go with him when she had you?” I whispered.

  He ripped his gaze from mine. “Because I never had her. Not in the way that really matters. It was all fucked up for a long time, but I just couldn’t see it. We all shared in the blame.”

  “But you have your own group now.”

  “Yeah.” A scowl.

  “You don’t seem very happy about it.”

  “You’re queen of the obvious.” He twisted on his silver thumb ring, the one that said ‘fuck u’ in block letters. I could tell that philosophy was his fall back plan whenever he was pushed, like now. His mouth was so tight, a muscle spasmed in his jaw. “Because it should’ve been Bryan and me…” He trailed off. His pain was exposed and raw, clearer than it’d been on the bridge. I realized the alcohol must’ve blurred it then. There was nothing to diminish the intensity of it now. “He was my brother. His mom, his sisters…they were my family.”

  “What about your father?”

  He snorted derisively. “That asshole? He was married when he was screwing my mom. He split after she got knocked up.”

  My expression must have betrayed my dismay.

  “Yeah, Sweetness, my life’s all fuckin’ rainbows and unicorns.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  War

  I didn’t get her.

  At all.

  I’d just finished telling her how fucked up my life was. Shit I never talked about. Shit that no sane person would want any part of. Shit that would make me run in the opposite direction. But, oh no. Not Shaina. Instead of backing off, her eyes had warmed, her face had softened, and she’d touched me. A gentle touch meant to comfort. A sympathetic touch that seemed to say, “I understand and I’m not judging you.”

  I’d never met a woman like her.

  Ever.

  Maybe it was just the timing. It made me feel better to think about it that way.

  Everything of importance kept slipping through my fingers. Lace. Bryan. Tempest. Even my mom. The tighter I tried to hold on the more things got away from me. I felt like I was walking through life upside down now, and I had no clue what to do to flip it right side up again.

  Being here was a case in point. What the hell was I doing? Watching television? Sharing shit? Exposing my weak side to this woman? This wasn’t me. This wasn’t how I operated. I was an action man. A keep it superficial and on the surface guy. The only reason I’d ever even known what’d been going on in Lace’s head was because Bryan told me, not because I’d ever taken the time to ask her myself.

  I needed to shut this deep, thoughtful shit down. I should go back to Footit’s Place. Get drunk and get laid. But I’d done that last night, and it hadn’t helped.

  Whatever. Didn’t matter. I got myself down off the rickety emotional platform I’d climbed out on before it could collapse under the weight of my own bullshit. No more trying to sort her or myself out. Just enjoy the moment. Get back in control. The way I liked it. The way it had to be.

  The door buzzed.

  I watched Shaina’s sexy ass as she turned the corner out of view to answer it. I fantasized sinking my fingers into her while driving in deep from the rear. Perfect. Just like the rest of her body. Not too thin. Way curvy. Breathtaking in or out of clothes.

  I oughta bang her and be done with it or get the hell out.

  But something held me back. Something held me here…

  Voices drifted into my thoughts. It didn’t sound like she was talking to room service. I got up to investigate. There was a cart alright, stacked with silver plate covers, but instead of the delivery guy, it was Treyall. He had his hands on her arms. I don’t know why that bothered m
e, but it did. And the fact that it bothered me at all pissed me off even more.

  He stopped talking when he saw me over her shoulder. She turned around to face me.

  Fucking hell. She had that wounded look in her eyes again. Why, I had no fuckin’ clue, but it was the same expression she’d worn earlier when she’d spouted all that ridiculous nonsense about me not wanting her. I’d seen that for the play that it’d been. She was an actress after all. There was no way in hell she didn’t know how hot she was. I wasn’t going to feed her superstar ego.

  But I had no clue what was going on now. No clue why the “best friend” was back. The guy had said flat out that he wasn’t into chicks, but the familiar way they interacted had me suspicious.

  “Jinkins.” He lifted his chin to acknowledge my presence.

  “Treyall.” I came closer and threw my arm around Shaina giving him the score in universal guy language. He took his hands off her, but for some strange reason, he started smiling, all white teeth like he was in on something that I wasn’t.

  Whatever. I absently threaded my fingers into the hair at Shaina’s nape, massaging her neck with my thumb.

  She sighed.

  Still grinning, but toned down enough to speak around those teeth, Treyall’s gaze moved from watching my hand to my face. “I was just telling Shaye we might have a problem with her dad.”

  “Yeah? What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well,” he drew the word out, “Shaye and I might’ve told him an itsy bitsy tiny sort of a lie to keep him out of her hair tonight.”

  “Why would you have to do that? My gaze slid to her, and hers dropped to the floor. Shit. “You’re not fucking underage are you? The online bio says you’re twenty-one.”

  “I am, totally, but my dad kind of keeps a tight leash on me.”

  Treyall snorted. “More like a shock collar.”

  That explained a lot. I couldn’t say that I really blamed him. She was pretty fuckin’ reckless as far as I could tell. And at the moment she looked like she wanted to wreck Treyall for sharing.

  “Which brings us to the present problem,” Treyall continued, unfazed, though his brow was arched in amusement. “My sources say he’s on his way up here right now.”

  “But he was supposed to be at the wrap up party.” She frowned.

  “Apparently he left early. You’d better think of something quick. He’ll be here any minute.”

  “Shooty shoot!” Shaina exclaimed eyes darting to the door nervously.

  “Maybe I should go,” I offered.

  “No,” she blurted, reaching for my arm but pulling back at the last minute as if trying to detain me would make her look desperate. “It’s too risky. He might already be out in the hall.” She shifted her attention to Treyall. “Help me get rid of him, please?”

  “Sure, Shaye baby. Go get in the bed and climb under the covers. We’ll play it like we did on that the episode of Pinky Swear where you pretended you had the measles, alright?”

  She smiled in a way I hadn’t seen, warm and genuine, her eyes sparkling.

  Fucking beautiful.

  I wanted one of those of my own more than I was willing to admit.

  “Ok, but what about all this food.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “He’s gonna wonder why I’m ordering room service when I’m supposed to be sick.”

  “Say it’s for you,” I suggested to Treyall. “I mean if staying here with her when she’s sick is something you’d do.”

  “Absolutely,” he confirmed. “But what to do with you?” Treyall mused, tapping a finger to his cheek.

  “You could peek out into the hall,” Shaina suggested. “Maybe we have enough time to hide him in your room.”

  “Uh-uh. No fuckin’ way.” First off, there was no way in hell I wanted to be caught dead in Treyall’s room. No offense, but I was strictly into bitches. I did not want any of those kind of rumors started about me. Secondly, and more importantly, I was curious and dying to get a chance to checkout this overbearing father of hers.

  “Doesn’t this fucking palace of yours have a closet?” I offered helpfully.

  “Brilliant.” Treyall nodded to Shaina. “Get him in there quick and get yourself in bed.”

  “Ok.” She grabbed my hand and tugged, leading me down the hall, past an extra bathroom, and into a room as big as the entire downstairs floor of the house I grew up in. A massive four poster bed dominated the room. And everywhere, on the floor, on the dresser, strewn over every available space, were clothes. Colorful piles and piles of them. It looked like the women’s department at Nordstrom had detonated inside her bedroom.

  “Go,” she ordered, pointing to the closet.

  I snickered. I couldn’t help it. “I’m surprised you even know where the closet is, darlin’.” My brows were high as I dodged the nearest tangle of jeans at my feet.

  “Ass,” she retorted with mock indignation, tossing an enchanting grin my way. That was a lure too sweet to resist. Her eyes went wide as I strode purposefully toward her.

  “War,” she breathed at the last moment, holding up a hand and backing up as if to escape me.

  Intent glittering from my eyes, my lips curled when the bed ended her hurried retreat. “Where do you think you’re going, Sweetness?” I curled my fingers into her upper arms and brought her close, the entire length of her body and all those delicious curves coming into direct contact with me. Her tits felt fantastic pressed up against my chest, but her mouth, her mouth finally underneath my own felt even better.

  Warm like liquid light and sweet like fuckin’ cotton candy. I traced my tongue along the seam between her closed lips. They parted and a low sound slid out of the back of her throat and filled mine. The sound said she needed more and that was alright by me.

  Rock hard now, I slanted my head, fully intent on taking it a whole lot further when there were two sharp loud knocks on the outside door of the suite. She stiffened, and I reluctantly lifted my head, noting with arrogant satisfaction how the kiss had affected her.

  She was breathing hard through parted wet shiny lips, and her gaze was dazed and focused on my mouth as if she couldn’t believe what I had just done with it.

  I definitely liked that look.

  “Get in the bed, Sweetness,” I ordered.

  She slowly blinked.

  “Your dad’s here.”

  Her body jerked. “Shit!” She lunged, yanked back the covers, and jumped in, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

  My grin wide, I negotiated my way through the debris field and ducked into the spacious closet. I pulled the door closed leaving it slightly cracked so I could watch the drama unfold. Luckily for me, she’d scooted to the side of the bed that I could clearly see through the tiny sliver.

  The fact that this whole scene felt like it had been scripted for an episode on her show was not entirely lost on me. I was in the process of trying to figure out why a twenty-one year old let her dad run her life as if she were still sixteen when I heard Treyall open the door, followed by her father’s booming voice, a moment before he appeared in my view. He was built like a linebacker, but even from across the room I could tell that his green eyes were filled with concern. He tenderly stroked the hair from her brow. “How’re you feeling, baby?”

  “I’m ok, Dad.” She opened her eyes and coughed; a sound so pitiful and weak it actually seemed as if she didn’t have the strength to do it any harder. She came up on her elbows, her body trembling so believably that I even forgot for a moment that she was faking.

  I grinned. She was scary good.

  “You sure?” he asked her, his dark brows scrunching together. “Your eyes are really shiny and your cheeks are flushed. Are you still running a fever?”

  “No. Not since I took the Tylenol.”

  “Good.” Expression softening even more, he put one of his large hands on her cheek, resting it there for a moment. “Get some more rest. Are you ok with Alex taking care of you? Do you want me to stay?”

&n
bsp; “No Dad. I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to do anyway. It’s just a twenty-four hour bug that I have to ride out. I’ll call you if I need you. I’m just going to sleep now.”

  “Ok. But make sure you drink plenty of fluids. A fever dehydrates you.” He stood. “One more thing, I hate to mention it with you feeling so bad, but there was a shadow in the final shot with you and Alex today. You two will have to do the scene over again in the morning. Do you think there’s any way you could manage that?”

  “I don’t know, Daddy. I’m feeling pretty awful.”

  “It’s just a couple of distance shots, Shaye, baby. An hour or two in the studio, three tops.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell with a rattily sounding sigh. “I’ll try,” she whispered.

  “That’s my girl. I’ll come and get you first thing in the morning, ok?”

  “Ok.”

  “You call if you need me.”

  “I will.”

  He leaned in and kissed her forehead. He might be overprotective, but the love between them was obvious. He passed out of my view, but I heard him call from the doorway. “I’m so proud of you, Shaye.” His voice dropped. “Everyone’s talking about you and how well you did on this movie. It’s going to be a big hit for you. A very big hit.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Shaina

  The moment the outside door to the suite clicked closed, I pushed back the covers and Warren stepped out of the closet.

  “Fucking hell.” He shook his head at me. “Your real life is just as gushy sweet as your show. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

  “You’re wrong. You don’t know anything about my life. It certainly isn’t sweet. I was thirteen when Cass took her life. A hard age to begin with. And when I really needed my parents, they weren’t there for me.” Not when we were all so wrapped up in our loss. They were so shrouded in grief they never realized how insignificant I felt, how guilty, how lost. Acting became my lifeline. My way to be noticed. My way to win back their attention and their approval. My way to hide the pain.