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Steve tried to ignore the knocking on his hotel room door as he enjoyed his morning breakfast with the gorgeous woman sitting across from him. She was still slightly flushed from the hot shower they’d shared—or maybe the quickie that had necessitated the shower—and only a bastard from hell would ask him to leave her now.
“I remember why we don’t allow women on the tour,” Butch complained loudly from the hallway. “If it isn’t you fucking up the schedule, it’s Logan.”
Steve exchanged a grin with Roux, who reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “As much as I hate to say it, you really should go.”
“I won’t be able to see you until late tonight.”
“That’s okay, I’ll be able to see you. I plan on watching you from afar all day.”
“Stalker.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her wrist several times, then forced himself to rise. He drew her to her feet and pulled her close, his hand slipping beneath her robe to squeeze her delightful ass. He kissed her until Butch’s knocking became a pounding that would likely injure his hand.
“If you don’t come out in the next twenty seconds,” Butch said, “I’m coming in!”
“He sounds desperate,” Roux said, patting Steve’s ass and giving him a little shove.
“I love you,” he said, kissing her once more before forcing his feet toward the door.
“I love you too.”
When she released a dreamy sigh, he grinned. He needed to put a ring on her finger so she had something to stare at when he wasn’t around.
The second he opened the door, Butch grabbed him by the ear.
“Ow!”
“Do you see this schedule?” Butch shoved a mint-green paper so close to Steve’s face that he couldn’t have read it if he tried.
“If you had that woman in your life, you wouldn’t want to . . .” He pulled the clipboard away from his face so he could pretend to read the first item on their agenda. “Have tea with the queen? I didn’t know she was a fan.”
“Not funny,” Butch said. “Get your ass downstairs before I lose track of Logan again. You’d better hope there’s no traffic.”
“I love it when you boss me around,” Steve said, offering him an overtly sexual look, biting his lip suggestively.
“Knock it off. I’m not in the mood.” But Butch’s mustache twitched as he tried not to smile.
When Steve arrived in the lobby, the guys looked happy to see him, even Max, who normally bitched him out when he made them late.
“We heard you made quite an ass of yourself over a woman on Sinners’ stage last night,” Max said, punching him in the shoulder.
He shrugged but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well, I was pretty drunk.”
“Was she mad?” Logan asked. “You were supposed to keep her identity a secret, weren’t you?”
“I think she was relieved, actually.” Steve smiled, glad she wasn’t angry at him. Not even for drinking. He’d assumed she’d try to change him to make him fit her ideal man, but she accepted him as he was. Loved him despite his faults. He would try to be a better person for her because she deserved the best, and he was acutely aware of his faults.
“Why are you all standing around grinning like a bunch of idiots?” Butch smacked Steve on the back with his clipboard. “Get in the car.”
“Is Sam joining us?” Max asked. Usually he’d want Sam to be in attendance, but from the I-just-swallowed-bleach expression on his face, Steve could tell he’d rather not have to put up with their soon-to-be-fired manager.
“No. I think he’s sleeping off his jet lag,” Butch said.
Even more good news to brighten Steve’s day. He could get used to this. The band still hadn’t told Butch that they were getting rid of Sam after the tour; Butch didn’t need the stress of trying to keep that gem of a secret under wraps for the next three months. Besides, where would he get his beloved schedules without Sam’s publicity machine to back the band?
They didn’t have to travel far for their radio station interviews. All the local stations, and a few not so local ones, were broadcasting live from the Download festival grounds. They were on TV a few times as well, then made their way to a lunch with fans who had paid a shit-ton of money for the opportunity. Steve remembered a time when they would do this sort of thing for free, and when Sam was out of their lives, he vowed they’d go back to their old ways of letting people win these special interactions in raffles rather than having them fork over a pile of cash. While waiting for everyone to be seated so they could make their entrance, he mentioned his concerns to Dare. He didn’t get the response he’d been expecting.
“Some of the people who won those raffles would sell their prize for way more than these people paid. Then they’d be the ones profiting, not us, who are footing the bill.”
Max must have been eavesdropping, because he leaned in to say, “And scalpers buy up these packages and sell them for a substantial profit as well.”
“I’d rather raffle winners profit than scalpers,” Logan said.
“I don’t think anyone should profit,” Steve said. “These are our guests. You don’t charge guests.”
“These are the kinds of things we’ll have to figure out when we go it on our own,” Max said.
“Do we have time to make all these decisions?” Dare asked.
That was the reason Sam had been hired in the first place; they hadn’t wanted to make all those decisions. They’d wanted an expert to do that for them, and the label had insisted that they’d scored a coup by bringing in Sam Baily. But now that they’d been in this game for over a decade, they had developed opinions. What was surprising to Steve was that those opinions were more in line with each other’s than he expected them to be.
Halfway through their VIP lunch, he got a text from Roux. He excused himself from the table so he could read it with relative privacy.
Hope you’re having a great day. Every guy in the band Scurvy Gums got food poisoning, so we’re filling in their slot at seven. I won’t be able to see you backstage before your show, but I will watch you perform tonight. Can’t wait to see you after.
He was sure she realized what a big deal it was to be asked to fill in for another band, so he didn’t comment on that. Wish I had time to come see you perform again tonight. You know I’m your biggest fan. We have tomorrow off. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a single second.
Now he was the stalker.
London. Can’t wait. Love you.
A fan was standing uncomfortably close and staring at him with camera in hand wanting a picture, so he sent Roux a quick thumbs-up and tucked his phone back into his pocket. He spent his entire afternoon interacting with fans—one of his favorite pastimes—so the time flew by. Zach showed up in the backstage area and kept the party going, but by the time Steve had to change clothes to get ready for their set, he was really missing Roux. He hadn’t even heard from her about how their second show had gone. Had Sam kept them busy all day the way he had Exodus End? It seemed likely, and since Baroquen wasn’t well-known, he was sure it took a lot of work to get events lined up for them. Exodus End had to turn people down now, but it hadn’t always been that way.
Dressed and waiting in the wings with drumsticks twirling and excitement coursing through his veins, he jumped when a woman pressed up against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. He was about to politely tell her to get lost when she whispered in his ear, “I got here as fast as I could. I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten about you.”
He covered Roux’s hands with his and pressed them more firmly into his belly. “It’s not possible for anyone to forget about me.”
She laughed and pressed her elbows into his sides, making him jump again. “Ego check, Aimes.”
“Checked and fully functional.”
He took her arm and pulled her around to face him. He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed that she was in full costume. She was sexy as sin in her corset and petticoats. Her face was flawless in her heavy makeup with every freckle concealed, and the wig flattered her beauty, the vivid red strands within the black drawing out the green flecks in her hazel eyes. Her black lipstick made her complexion glow like porcelain, but still, he preferred her natural look. Not that he’d kick this rock star sex kitten out of his bed.
“How’d your show go?”
“Perfect. And fans remembered us. They still have our band name on their forearms. I bet they can’t wait to have proper showers and wash it off.” She laughed.
“Is that lipstick kissproof?” he asked, cupping her face.
“No.” She rubbed it off on the back of her hand, leaving a wide black smudge. “I think you’re safe now.”
He didn’t much care if he went on stage with black lips—he couldn’t not kiss her. And he didn’t particularly relish all the camera flashes going off around them as he claimed her lips. He wasn’t ashamed. He just wished people would have a little respect for their privacy.
Someone called places, and he released her, wishing he had a few more minutes to let her know how much he’d missed her today.
“Love you,” he whispered into her ear, and she surprised him by shouting in front of everyone.
“I’m completely in love with you, Steve! Do you hear me, Steve Aimes? I love you!”
He laughed and saluted her with his drumstick before hurrying out on stage and settling onto the stool behind his drum kit. For the first night since the tour started, because they were using the same stage as every opening act, his kit didn’t rise out of the stage. But he didn’t need the grand entrance to feel like he was on top of the world. That wonderful woman waiting for him in the wings was all he needed to elevate his game.
He let the rhythm consume him, scarcely aware of the rest of the band and their typical theatrics. They followed the beat, not the other way around, and could always count on him to deliver the tempo with precision, enthusiasm, and every piece of his soul. His muscles strained with each downbeat, his breath heaved, and sweat began to flow down his neck, back and chest. Soon it was dripping off his elbows and made his hair so wet, it stuck to his face and throat. The only time he paused during the set was to chug water between songs before diving into the next rhythm. Each drum progression was unique and familiar and fun. Steve lived for this shit. He didn’t care about the cameras being on him, what Max was saying to the crowd, or that there even was a crowd. When he was playing, his ego took a back seat to his need to produce a perfect cadence.
For the next hour, music was his only love, his life, his entire reason for existing. He broke a stick during “Bite,”—not unusual since he hit the snare with uncompromising force the entire chorus—but it wasn’t his usual tech, who handed him a fresh stick. It was Roux. When she smiled at him, he stumbled over the beat. That had never happened to him before. Not in the studio. Not during a jam session. And certainly not during a live show.
He found his rhythm easily again, muscle memory guiding him through the rest of the song as thoughts spun chaotically through his head. He didn’t want to tell Roux she was a distraction during the show—even though she obviously was. He liked that she was there, was watching him closely enough to hand him a stick when he needed one, but if her presence resulted in his making mistakes, he’d have to ask her to keep her distance. Would she understand or be hurt? He chugged down another liter of water, wiped his face on a towel, and while Max was yammering on about who the hell knew what, he beckoned Roux over with a crooked finger.
She kept low as she creeped up behind his drum kit. He removed one of his earplugs so he could hear.
“Sorry I messed you up,” she whispered. “I won’t bother you again.”
“You didn’t bother me. I was just surprised. But maybe my tech should hand me new sticks.”
She nodded and blotted his lower back with a towel. “And I can be your towel girl?”
He chuckled. “You have to stay out of sight, love. You’re a total distraction.”
She nodded, and he was glad there were none of the hurt feelings in her gaze that he’d expected. “But after the show?”
“You can water me, towel me, and stick me as much as you please.”
She grinned. “I’d kiss you, but I can see you need to concentrate.” She nodded in the direction beyond the front of his drum kit where the entire band and a good portion of the UK were all staring at him, waiting for him to begin the next song.
Roux scrambled out of sight. He shoved his earplug back into place, pounding out the intro to “Rebel in You” before Max could tease him about failing at his job. After three encores and a lengthy set of bows, Steve dashed off the stage, only one thing on his mind now that the show was over. He found his one thing surrounded by her sisters, all fangirling over Reagan.
“Oh my God, that cello piece is superb,” Iona said. “I wonder if Cecelia would consider joining our band and adding in some cello.”
Steve had no idea who Cecelia was—another sister, perhaps. He couldn’t keep them all straight. He also couldn’t keep his head on straight when Roux was near. He stepped up beside her and slipped his arm around her lower back. She started and then graced him with a beautiful smile before turning against his chest and pulling his head down for a lengthy kiss.
When she pulled away, she used her fingertips to trace paths through the sweat still wetting his throat. “Raven is going to kill me for getting Aimes sweat all over my costume.”
“There’s only one solution,” he said, nibbling on her ear as he inhaled her scent. Performing always made him hornier than a triceratops. “Take it off.”
“We have an after-party to attend. Mandatory. Your band invited us, if you were wondering.”
And by his band, he was sure she meant Sam.
Typically the only thing he loved more than performing was celebrating at a wild party, consuming whatever mind-altering substance was readily available, and finding some interesting female to assuage his lust. But tonight he would much rather sneak away and celebrate in private with Roux. She was the only interesting female he cared to fuck, and he liked to keep his wits about himself when she was near. She made him think, made him laugh, made him feel more alive than any drug he’d tried—and he’d tried them all. He should probably consider marrying the woman. He smiled at the thought. Now there was an idea he never thought he’d sport again after the way Bianca had destroyed the beauty of love for him. And then Roux had happened. Not only had she rebuilt his desire to love and be loved, but had advanced those needs until he knew he couldn’t live without them—without her—in his life.
“How long do we have to stay?” he asked. “I want you bare from head to toe. I haven’t seen you out of your costume since this morning.”
“Are you complaining about how hot I look in this corset?” She tried to give him a stern look, but her mouth twisted into a smile.
“I know for a fact that you look even hotter out of it.” He kissed her nose. “And I miss your freckles when you’re wearing all this makeup.”
“And I suppose you prefer pink lips over black.”
His thoughts immediately turned south. “I’m sure the lips I’m thinking of tasting are always pink, but yeah, I prefer your mouth pink too.”
She leaned close and whispered into his ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to see what my black mouth looks like circling your cock?”
He groaned and pulled her against his bare chest. “Now that you mention it . . .”
“You’re getting her all sweaty,” Raven complained loudly.
“I’m just getting started,” he assured her.
“What, you can’t keep your hands off her for a couple of hours?”
“Hell no.” Now that their secret was out in the open, he hadn’t just let off the brakes, he’d removed them entirely.
“The helicopter is landing!” Reagan shouted, and hugged the nearest person, who happened to be Max.
“Helicopter?” Steve glanced around and found Sam beaming with pride.
“Only the best for my stars,” he said.
“Who authorized this expense?” Max asked, patting Reagan, who was shaking with excitement.
“Don’t worry about that. You’re going to make a grand entrance at the castle after-party.”
“What castle?” Max asked.
“The one you rented for the night. I’d say ladies first, but we all know who the guests really want to see. The helicopter will come back and get the pretty ones after they drop off our meal tickets.” Sam had the nerve to laugh at his own joke.
“Are you daft?” Max asked him. “You keep reminding us that our record sales are down, and then you rent a castle and a helicopter for an after-party? What is wrong with you?”
“Keeping up appearances,” Sam said. “Now hurry. Time is money, and you’re wasting time. Be sure to schmooze your asses off. Your fifty ultra-VIP guests’ tickets more than paid for the helicopter, the hall rental, and the open bar.”
“Un-fucking-believable,” Steve grumbled, his previous good mood turning sour in an instant. He scarcely felt the swift kiss he offered Roux before he left her and climbed aboard the helicopter with his bandmates. The only one who was remotely excited about their flight was Reagan.
“Can we reevaluate when we’ll fire that dumbass?” Steve said, speaking loudly to be heard over the helicopter blades. “I know we decided to wait until after the tour, but if he keeps pulling this sort of extravagant bullshit, we need to ax him immediately.”
“He said it’s paid for,” Max said.
“I wonder what he charged our so-called ultra-VIP guests,” Dare said, likely doing the math in his head.
“If it’s ten bucks, it’s more than we’re worth,” Logan said with a laugh. He leaned toward the window and pointed down at a race circuit as they passed overhead. “They have motorcycle races down there. Speed bikes, not dirt, so more up Steve’s alley than mine.” He slapped Steve’s knee. “Hey, maybe we should rent the track and some bikes and have a race.”
Steve was too pissed to be slightly tempted by thoughts of racing a bike around the track. He refused to even admit that it sounded fun. Beyond the racetrack were fields of tents—the campsites of festivalgoers.
“So what are we going to do about Sam?” he asked, still talking loudly.
“I’ll talk to him,” Max yelled. “Try to reel him in a bit.”
“How about I reel him in completely by firing him? Tonight. I’m tired of his bullshit.”
“The lawyers advise against it,” Dare said.
Steve scowled. “What lawyers?”
“You don’t think we should forge ahead without legal advice, do you?” Max said.
Steve hadn’t thought about seeking legal counsel. He just wanted Sam to be gone. He turned to Logan. “Did you know about the lawyers?”
Logan shook his head.
Steve glanced from Dare to Max and back again. “So you two took it upon yourselves to hire lawyers without consulting me and Lo?”
“Oh, look at it!” Reagan squealed, pointing out the window at a large gray stone castle.
It was more of a rectangle than the sweeping spires Steve envisioned when he thought of castles, but impressive nonetheless. Had they really needed to rent a helicopter to fly such a short distance? How far had they flown? A mile or two? They could have easily walked that distance. Maybe not through the crowds that were making their way to the campgrounds between the racetrack and Donington Hall, but he didn’t need all the extravagance to feel like a rock star.
Steve’s stomach dropped as the helicopter descended rapidly toward a wide-open field near the castle. He hadn’t realized it before, but there were a lot of open fields around the place. It reminded him of his family home—sans the castle, racetrack, and thousands of tents.
“It’s my usual team of lawyers,” Dare said, drawing Steve’s attention back to the conversation. “I’ve also involved my accountant and my financial advisor.”
“And his psychic and palm reader,” Logan added.
Dare ignored the lame taunt. He had never been easy to bait, unless the cheap shots involved his younger brother. “We aren’t talking about just firing Baily. We’re going to destroy him legally and financially. He’ll never work in the entertainment industry again when we’re through with him. So be patient, okay? These things take time, and the less suspicious Sam is, the less he’ll try to cover his tracks, the more mistakes he’ll make, and the better our case.”
Steve did like the sound of destroying Sam legally and financially and knew they were doing the industry a favor by taking him down. Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he could be patient, however. Max had been keeping him on a tight rein for years, so now that he’d been given a bit of slack—of hope—he was chomping at the bit to run with this.
“Are you going after his fucking tabloid too?” Reagan asked, her face tightening into scowl. So she had been paying attention and not just gawking at the pretty castle. “You know how many people have been hurt by that stupid paper.”
The tabloid had hurt Reagan more than anyone, though it had tried to cut Steve and the rest of the band down as well. As a veteran of having shit spewed about him, Steve hadn’t been bothered by the most recent stories at all. He didn’t care what strangers thought of him.
“It will be dealt with,” Dare said, rubbing his sister-in-law’s lower back. “We’re working on a libel case, but we’re not sure it will fly. Tabloids are very good at leading the reader to believe their lies without actually stating them as facts. Unfortunately, that falls under freedom of speech laws.”
“Freedom of nastiness, you mean?” Reagan’s scowl didn’t lessen.
“You’re going after Bianca’s tabloid?” Steve asked. Not that he minded. He just never thought of the dumb tabloid as a huge issue. Not in the same league as Sam’s alleged embezzling, in any case.
The helicopter touched down lightly, but Steve was far from ready for this important conversation to be over. It wasn’t often that the five of them got to be entirely alone together where they didn’t have to worry about being overheard. Steve jerked his head toward the pilot, but the man was too busy with his control panels to pay them any mind. He hoped those headphones the pilot wore had blocked their conversation from potentially spying ears.
“It’s not her tabloid at all anymore, though she did manage to keep her job,” Dare said. “Tradespar West bought the American Inquirer out about six months ago, just days after Bianca filed for bankruptcy. Her bankruptcy case was then withdrawn. My lawyer is still digging for the connection between the events, but I have a feeling the specifics are known only by Sam and Bianca.”
Bankruptcy? After all the money he’d handed her in the divorce? And the only connection he knew of between Sam and Bianca was Exodus End—specifically Steve himself. “So when was I going to be informed about all of this?” Steve asked.
“We didn’t want to bother you,” Dare said with a grin. “You’ve been happy for the past few days. I was enjoying the new Steve, who isn’t pissed off all the time.”
Steve hadn’t been pissed off all the time. Just most of the time. But he silently thanked Dare for giving him a few days to be ignorantly, blissfully happy.
The loud chop of the helicopter blades began to wind down, so they didn’t have to talk quite as loud.
“Dare gets a report from his team every Friday,” Max said. “It’s not like we’ve been sitting on this information for long.”
“Long enough for him to tell you,” Steve pointed out.
“Yeah, well, I pester him.”
Dare chuckled. “He does.”
The door opened. Two members of Exodus End’s security team helped them disembark and rushed them toward the building. Steve instinctually ducked as he passed beneath the slowly turning helicopter blades and followed his group toward the castle. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but the place was decorated in fine elegance. He felt like he should be wearing a tuxedo and congratulating a bride and groom. The party of congregated guests applauded as the band entered a dining hall. Fine china, crystal glassware, silver utensils, and impeccable white linens decorated round tables. Flowers perfumed the air, and tapered candles offered an atmospheric glow to their surroundings. Steve and each of his bandmates were seated at separate tables with five eager strangers, so there was no way to continue discussing their future. Getting rid of Sam was top priority, but he wondered if they all envisioned the same goals once they were free to do what they pleased. Steve tried smiling and being friendly with the ultra-VIPs, but his thoughts kept returning to the situation with Sam.
When Baroquen entered the room about a half hour later, Roux was separated from her bandmates and seated at her very own table of strangers too. He knew she had her bullet clenched tightly in her fist as her troubled gaze met his across the room. If it weren’t for Sam and his ridiculous events, the two of them could be enjoying some alone time in his hotel room right now.
God, he hated Sam. And soon he’d be rid of him for good.
*~*~*
By the time Steve and Roux crawled into bed after their VIP dinner, it was almost dawn. Their meal had consisted of ten courses, one for each table. Luckily, they’d been served tapas-style fare with a minimum of twenty minutes per table, so his stomach hadn’t exploded from overindulgence, but he was uncomfortably full. For each course, the rock stars had switched tables so that every small group of ultra-VIPs got to interact with each of them. Once he’d let his anger toward Sam go—a little—he’d enjoyed interacting with the wealthiest of their fans. They were good people. He felt an instant connection with rock music fans no matter where in the world he happened to be. At least here in the UK, they spoke mostly the same language.
Unable to consider doing anything remotely energetic after such a long night, he spooned against Roux’s back and let weariness pull him toward sleep. Today was a travel day, so at least Butch wouldn’t be banging on the door in two hours to get him into the gym, but the band’s taskmaster would be there in four, demanding that he get his ass on the plane so they could make their way to London for tomorrow night’s show.
“Have you ever been too tired to sleep?” Roux murmured.
Apparently not, because the next thing he knew, Zach was standing over his bed, shaking him awake. Fuck. He’d forgotten he’d given Zach a key. What kind of ass used it to barge into a man’s room and wake him up at—Steve glanced at the clock—noon. Noon!
“Babe?” He shook Roux gently, but she mumbled something that sounded a lot like fuck off before pulling the covers over her head.
“Why didn’t anyone wake me?” Steve asked, shifting his feet over the edge of the bed, putting his elbows on his thighs, and leaning forward to rub his face with both hands. It was times like these that he wished he hadn’t given up cocaine. When running on a few hours of sleep, it sure beat coffee. “Weren’t we supposed to be in the air at eleven?”
“The jet is making two flights today. It should be back soon to pick up the rest of us. Max said to let you sleep.”
Steve snorted. “Since when does Max have my best interests at heart?”
“He’s in a really good mood,” Zach said, nibbling on a fingertip. “It’s almost frightening.”
“I figured Max would take the fact that I was right about Sam and he was wrong less graciously than he has.”
Roux sat up. “Right about Sam how?”
Steve really should tell her their plans. He trusted her not tell anyone, but what if she was brought to trial, and had to testify under oath? If something like that led to Sam getting off on a technicality due to some contract provision, he’d never forgive himself.
“He’s a douche,” Steve said.
“We all get to ride on the jet today.” Zach beamed at Roux. “Even you and me.”
She didn’t look overly thrilled by the news. “I think I’ve been in the air more over the past three days than I’ve been on the ground,” she said, wrapping the sheet around her as she climbed to her feet and stumbled toward the bathroom.
Steve turned to Zach. “Do you realize what glorious sight I missed just now because you’re here?”
Zach shrugged. “Eh, you’ve seen her naked before. Guess who texted me this morning?”
Steve cringed. “Please don’t say Enrique.”
“Enrique!”
“What did he want?”
“He says he misses me and knows a place where we can be alone together for a couple of days.”
“Alone so that no one will know he’s seeing you.” Steve filled in a blank.
“I don’t care if anyone knows,” Zach said.
“Yes, you do.”
Zach sighed and flopped down on the bed beside Steve. “I haven’t texted him back with an answer yet,” he said. “But I want to.”
So there was hope. Zach just needed some support, and he’d be able to make the right decision, which Steve sincerely believed was telling Enrique to fuck off. Zach deserved a hell of a lot more consideration than that prick had ever shown him.
“Hey, Roux?” Steve called.
“Can’t a woman pee in peace?”
Zach grinned. “Someone is cranky this morning.”
“She prefers to be awoken slowly and gently, with kisses on her lips and then deeper kisses on her other lips.” He wondered if they’d have time to reenact her preferred awakening before they had to leave.
Zach crinkled his nose. “Eww.”
“Mmm, pussy. I go at it all morning like . . .” He showed off some of his more impressive tongue skills just to make Zach gag. Steve then smashed Zach flat with one arm while making all sorts of juicy sounds with his mouth next to Zach’s ear. “You like that don’t you, sweet pussy?”
“Oh God, please make it stop.” Zach squirmed wildly, trying to escape Steve’s crude torture.
Roux cleared her throat. “What exactly is going on out here?”
“He’s showing me how he eats you out,” Zach said.
Her horrified expression made both Steve and Zach burst out laughing.
She shook her head. “And you two wonder why people get the wrong idea about your relationship.”
“Nah,” Steve said. “We get it. We just don’t care.”
“If you’re worried, don’t be,” Zach said. “He loves pussy almost as much as it grosses me out.”
“Well, pardon my genitals,” Roux said. “You should probably leave now, because they’re about to be exposed.”
Steve made a fist of victory. “Aw, yeah.”
“Gross,” Zach said, scrambling off the bed. “I’ll see you all on the plane.”
“Don’t text him,” Steve said, knowing Zach would know what he meant. Steve would have to keep a close eye on Zach if he wanted him to stay strong when faced with Enrique’s million-dollar smile—or dick—or whatever it was about the actor that Zach liked.
“I won’t.”
Steve didn’t believe him, but he didn’t stop him from leaving. Zach was a grown man, and Steve no longer felt like babysitting. Not when Roux was looking at him like she wanted him for breakfast.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as soon as Zach had left the room. “Craving anything special?”
Her gaze flicked down to his crotch. “Sausage.”
“I don’t think that’s a vegetarian option.”
“I’ll make an exception.” She dropped her sheet and crawled up onto the bed with him.
“Say, I always wondered: Do vegans swallow? Cum is definitely an animal product.”
She paused with her mouth inches from his already hard cock and looked up at him. He hoped he hadn’t made her reconsider her morning meal choice by cracking jokes.
“That’s the main reason I’m not vegan,” she said. “Milk and eggs are good and all, but cum? Can’t live without it.”
“God, I love you.”
She didn’t return his sentiment. Her mouth was already full.
*~*~*
“I want to see everything,” Roux said, craning her neck to locate landmarks from the jet’s window. “Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, the Tower of London, all the museums.”
Steve yawned exaggeratedly, but he was only teasing. He’d take her anywhere she’d like to go.
“How far is Stonehenge from here?”
“No idea.”
She turned, the excitement in her eyes melting him.
“You’ve never been there?”
He shook his head, ready for any adventure as long as she was beside him.
“We’re not doing that lame stuff today,” Raven said. “We’re going shopping!”
Roux lifted an eyebrow. “With what money?”
“The plastic kind.” Raven made a fist and pulled her elbow back toward her ribs. “Ka-ching!”
“We’re in London. You can go shopping anywhere,” Roux pointed out. “You don’t even have to put on pants or leave the house to shop.”
“It’s not the same,” Raven said.
“We decided on shopping while you involved twats were with your men,” Azura said, nudging Iona, who was so involved in her discussion with Kyle that she merely swatted at Azura. “You were outvoted three to zero since we don’t accept absentee ballots. And your men aren’t invited.”
Roux squeezed Steve’s hand as if she expected him to try to escape. As much as he wanted to spend the day with her, he knew it was important for her to have girls-only time with her sisters.
“We’ll go shopping,” Lily said, “but only if our men can come.”
Jack’s eyes met Steve’s and, with teeth clenched, he shook his head, a sure sign that he wanted rescuing. Steve would do whatever it took to rescue one of his drummer idols from shopping.
“We don’t want to shop,” Steve said. “We’d rather pub crawl.”
“I’m up for that,” Azura said.
“No changing your vote!” Sage poked her. “We decided on shopping.”
“The women will shop, the men will pub crawl,” Iona said, no room for argument in her tone.
It was too bad she was already involved with Kyle Schultz; she was perfect for Max. Though maybe they were too much alike to get along. Max would probably argue with her constantly, which might take away from his time arguing with Steve and that would take all the joy out of Max’s life.
“Are there pubs in the shopping district?” Roux asked.
“Probably,” Steve said.
“So we can split up for the afternoon—women shop, men drink.” She stuck out her tongue and made a face of disgust. “Then meet up for dinner and go from there.”
He drew her hand up to press against his cheek and kissed her wrist.
“That’s our Roux.” Raven rolled her eyes. “Always compromising.”
“What’s wrong with compromising?”
“Nothing,” Steve said. “As long as you get something for yourself.” He knew she really wanted to go the sightseeing, touristy route today.
“I get to spend time with my sisters, and later with you, and don’t have to go to any pubs. All win.”
He kissed her wrist again, grateful that he’d fallen in love with a positive person. He was having a hard time remembering why he’d fallen for his first wife. She’d been so different from Roux. Always negative and bullheaded. Never satisfied. It was Bianca’s way or no way. She never even attempted to compromise. He’d been miserable. Even more miserable than he’d realized at the time.
“Do you want to get married?” Steve asked Roux.
She smiled gently. “Maybe someday.”
“To me, I mean?”
Her smile widened, crinkling her nose and the corners of her eyes. “Maybe someday.”
It wasn’t a no. He could work with that.
When they landed, a shuttle waited for them. Steve tipped the driver well for making suggestions that would fit their plans and for dropping them off on London’s West End instead of taking them to the hotel. Steve called Logan, who’d arrived on the first jet, and asked if he wanted to join them. He told him to round up as many guys—Max, Dare, the guys of Sinners and their opening band, Riott Actt—as he could find, and even remembered to invite the ladies to shop if they wanted to tag along.
They chose the closest restaurant for their regrouping and made a dinner reservation for thirty as they weren’t sure how many people would be joining them. When it was time to part, he drew Roux against him and kissed her as if he wouldn’t see her for months rather than a handful of hours. He pressed a credit card into her hand.
“Buy yourself something nice,” he said.
Her eyes widened, and she tried to give the piece of plastic back. “No!”
“It will make me happy.”
“I’m not using your credit card.”
“It has your name on it.”
“It does not.”
She held it up to her face and discovered that he wasn’t lying. He’d planned for her to have it for emergencies and had been carrying it around for over a week looking for the right time to give it to her. This time seemed right. And he didn’t want her to use it just for emergencies. He wanted her to spoil herself as much as he wanted to spoil her.
“What the hell, Steve? Did you steal my Social Security number and apply for credit in my name? How did you get this?”
“It’s my account,” he said. “I had your name added as an authorized user. I wanted you to have it for emergencies.”
“Shopping is not an emergency.”
“Yeah, it is!” Raven said, nudging Roux with her elbow. “Take it.”
“I will not.”
Steve tried to think of a way to trigger Roux’s natural tendency to compromise.
“I don’t like to shop,” he said. “I thought maybe you could get me some new clothes or . . .” He shrugged. “Some sexy underwear or something.”
She looked down at the credit card again, obviously weighing her options. If he could get her to accept it, maybe eventually she’d start using it on herself.
“And socks,” he said. “I could use some socks.”
“Steve,” she said, pressing her hand to his chest and looking up at him. “I know what you’re doing.”
He opened his eyes wide, feigning innocence. “I’m serious. When does a famous rock star have time to buy socks?” He threw his hands out wide.
She pursed her lips and shook her head.
“Please,” he said, wriggling his toes in his shoes. “Help a guy’s feet out here.”
“Fine.” She tucked the card into her purse.
He forced himself not to crow over his small victory.
“I’ll buy you socks,” she added.
“And if you find something nice for yourself, you should—”
She covered his lips with her fingertips. “I’m not buying anything for myself on your credit card.”
“I’ll work on her,” Raven promised. Steve was glad he had at least one of her sisters on his side. “She doesn’t know how lucky she is.”
“I do.” Roux stretched up on tiptoe and replaced her fingers with a soft peck from her lips. “I just don’t need material things to remind me.”
“Come on, lover boy,” Zach said, patting Steve on the back. “Beer beckons.”
For the first time in his life, Steve thought holding a woman’s purse while she tried on clothes sounded better than drinking beer with his friends. He resisted the urge to grab his crotch just to make sure his balls were still where they belonged.
“Love you,” he whispered to Roux, letting her go only when Raven forcibly pulled her away.
“Love you, sweetie,” Roux called, walking backwards and waving at him. He wasn’t the least bit embarrassed that her loud confession and horrendous pet name turned the heads of several bystanders.
Once she turned around, he kept watching her as her sisters drew her close.
“He gave her his fucking credit card,” Raven said.
He didn’t hear their responses—they were now too far away—but he smiled to himself and followed Zach into the nearest pub.
*~*~*
They were on their third pub, and Steve, who was answering Roux’s text asking what size socks he wore, was on his fifth beer. Suddenly their cozy group of four guys became a rowdy crowd of twenty as all the members of Exodus End, Sinners, and Riott Actt—plus a few crew members and significant others—entered the bar. A few minutes later, a familiar burgundy-haired pest slunk into the bar, her eyes watchful.
“What is she doing here?” Reagan—who much preferred hanging out with the guys to shopping—asked Steve. “Is it illegal to throat chop bitches in London?”
“Technically, she’s doing her job,” Steve said, turning his back on Tamara, who, as usual, was watching him more closely than anyone. “But feel free to throat chop at will and hope for legal immunity.”
“If she so much as looks at me cross-eyed, I’m throat chopping.” Reagan jerked down her hand in a wannabe karate strike. “And why the fuck is she smiling like that?”
“Will you just ignore her?” Trey said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s lower back. “She isn’t bothering you.”
Some of the tension eased from Reagan’s rigid spine, and she released a heavy breath. “I hope Toni’s article does more good than harm.”
Article? Steve vaguely remembered Toni interviewing Reagan on the jet as they crossed the Atlantic several days ago. Steve wondered how the world would handle Reagan’s polygamy, especially since it was the woman with multiple husbands and not the other way around.
“Her words will make the world love us as much as Ethan does,” Trey said.
Reagan laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible. Where is Ethan, anyway?”
Trey nodded toward the big dark-haired man in the corner, who for once wasn’t wearing his neon orange shirt announcing him as a member of Exodus End’s security team. Ethan still looked like a guy no one should mess with, however, and he was watching his husband and wife closely as he sipped on a beer. Though it was true that the marriage between the three of them wasn’t legal, it was obviously binding. And a bit weird in Steve’s opinion, but hey, other people’s love affairs were none of his business. If they were even half as happy together as he was with Roux, he wished them the best.
“He looks lonely,” Reagan said. “Maybe we should go keep him company.”
“You read my mind.” To Steve, Trey said, “Will you excuse us?” before guiding Reagan to the corner of the room. She kissed Ethan’s jaw, and the naturally tan man turned white, his eyes darting to the spot behind Steve where he’d last seen Tamara. Steve set his beer down and decided now would be a great time to confront her, since she’d slunk off the last time he’d attempted it. And maybe if he distracted her, she wouldn’t notice the obvious chemistry between Reagan and her two husbands. Without another second’s hesitation, he stalked in Tamara’s direction.
Someone grabbed Steve’s arm, drawing him to an abrupt halt. “What are you going to do?” Zach asked.
“Ask her why she’s here.” And also why she was always watching him, because it was creepy as hell.
“Do you need backup?”
“Nope.”
Zach let Steve’s arm slip from his grip and took a seat at a nearby table—undoubtedly so he could provide backup should Steve change his mind.
Tamara watched Steve’s approach, and the smug smile she had plastered on her face rivaled the one Sam Baily typically sported.
“Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass?” Steve said, sitting across from her without waiting for an invitation. “Nothing’s going to happen here that will be remotely interesting to your readers.”
“I just came to unwind.” Her smug grin widened.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Oh, nothing.” But she kept right on smiling.
“Are you going to leave?”
“Are you asking me to leave?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “I want to watch it all go down.”
“Watch what go down?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Steve was about to call Reagan over to deliver that throat chop she’d promised but decided instead to try making Tamara as uncomfortable as she was currently making him. Maybe he’d get some answers, or maybe she’d leave. He’d be satisfied with either outcome.
“How do you know Sam Baily?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table.
That wiped the smug look off her face. “None of your business.”
“So the lives of all my friends are everyone’s business, but your life is nobody’s? That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“I know him through my sister.” She shrugged. “Not that interesting, is it?”
“And how does Bianca know him? Why did he save her from bankruptcy?”
She crossed her arms and turned her face toward the wall beside her. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“She doesn’t answer my questions unless it’s ‘would you like some more money?’ and I bet you can guess her answer to that one.”
Tamara straightened, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare say anything bad about her. You ruined her in that divorce.”
“I ruined her?” Steve laughed. “If anything, I protected her. I was stupid, I see that now. I was still in love with her at the time, but I’ve finally let all that go. I met someone who loves me for me, not for what I can do for her.”
The smug smile returned to Tamara’s face. “I can’t wait to watch her dump you.”
Steve frowned. “And why would she do that?”
“You’ll see.”
“What do you know that I don’t know?”
“I’m not going to spoil the surprise.” She pointed toward the door. “I think you might want to check on your friend, though.”
Steve turned in time to see Zach dash out of the pub, and Steve was pretty sure he was crying. Oh fuck.