The sun blazed in the glass wall of windows that overlooked the dust and glitter of Vegas and glared off the gilded and ivory silk furniture in the living room, flashing in Rhiannon’s eyes. She shaded her face with her hand.
In the couch area, Xan was standing in front of a computer with the lamps aimed to shine on him like he had set up an impromptu television set. The computer’s webcam light shone like a blue star visible even through the bright sunlight while Xan threw back his head and belted “Standing on the Mountaintop” to a track running through the computer.
Of course it was that one. Why couldn’t he have picked something soft like “Alwaysland,” for God’s sake?
Rhiannon and the rest of the band ran toward the computer, except for Grayson, who leaned against the door jamb with his eyes closed.
Tryp pattered on the desk by the computer with his hands, sticking his head in the camera’s frame, while Cadell and Rade sang harmony. Rhiannon trotted a few steps behind them, but she joined in, too.
With the rest of them singing around him, Xan laughed, but he sang more softly.
Jonas paced off to the side, beyond the view angle of the webcam, his face impassive.
In a fit of insanity that she would later attribute to the stress of hunting down the Terrible Threesome and sleeping sitting up on the bus all night with visions of Black Lagoon Creatures dancing through her head, Rhiannon took the top line and sang Xan’s part with him.
What the hell. It was just a webcast.
She felt him look down at where she stood, but she grinned into the webcam and sang with all her might.
Xan backed off and sang the lower, lighter harmony line.
And that was good, too.
They finally came to the end of the song, and Xan encroached on the computer, thanking all the people who had come to hang out with them. A five-digit number flashed in the top corner of the screen. The first number was a four.
An internet disc jockey appeared in the corner and grew, taking over the screen, crowing his triumph of getting an exclusive interview and performance from not only Xan Valentine but the whole band, too.
Xan signed out. The blue webcam pinpoint star died.
Jonas paced faster, and now his fists were clenched. “Xan? Can I ask what happened here?”
Xan Valentine whirled, rounding on Rhiannon. His eyes blazed darkly with anger.
She held her hands up, trying to fend him off for when he grabbed her and threw her against the wall, and she tottered backward a few steps to try to get out of the range of his sweeping arms.
Xan didn’t reach for her, but his voice was a quiet snarl. “Don’t ever upstage me again. I swear to God, you’ll be on the next plane back to L.A.”
She nodded fast, her heart drumming in her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”
He stalked off, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
Rhiannon glanced at Jonas, whose green eyes were wide with shock. “I was going to bawl him out for straining his throat.”
Rhiannon’s eyes burned, stinging with the salt of tears. She had screwed it all up.
Tryp patted her on the shoulder. “He gets uptight. Don’t take it personally.”
Cadell nodded. “He’s never had to cancel a concert before. I’m surprised that he didn’t set up a stage in the middle of the Strip today for a surprise free concert, just to prove that he could do it.”
Rade snorted. “And to suck down some fan love like the adoration vampire that he is.”
Her hands shook so hard that she fluttered.
Tryp added, “He’s threatened to put all of us on a plane back to L.A. at one time or another.”
Yeah, but none of them had three-month, provisional contracts.
Rhiannon blinked, trying not to let the tears fall.
“He’s tightly wound,” Tryp said. “Don’t be mad at him.”
“I never get mad,” Rhiannon said. “Never.”
This time, she caught Jonas watching her as she said it, and wariness haunted his eyes. Rhiannon shivered as if a gust of ice had frosted her back.
Jonas took her arm and steered her out of Xan’s suite and down the hall to his room, a one-bedroom version of Xan’s gilded set-up. He held her elbow gently. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, but she sank into a miserable ball on the floor.
Jonas picked her up and turned her over in his arms as easily as if she were a frightened kitten. “It’s okay. He wouldn’t have hit you. He gets mad, but I’ve never seen him get violent with anyone, and I would have flattened him if he had tried.”
“I’m okay,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder.
Jonas sat down on the bed with her in his lap. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay?” She couldn’t even make it sound convincing, damn it. Visions of walls rushing up to her and slapping her in the face, the sharp crags of drywall scraping her little-girl cheeks like a cheese grater, ran behind her eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She sounded steadier that time because she didn’t ever want to talk about it.
“Okay.” He bent his head to look at her. “Rhiannon, listen to me. No matter what happens between us personally, I will always be there for you. Like I told you the day you were hired, I will not let any of these assholes hurt you, even Xan. If he had so much as lifted his hand, I’d have ripped his arm off.”
Her arms tightened around his neck, and her eyes hurt. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to hear about people being hurt.”
“It’s an exaggeration. I would have stopped him. No one will get hurt. I can stop any of these guys from hurting you or anyone else, okay?” His burly shoulder twitched under her cheek. “I will not let anyone lay a hand on you, ever.”