Pretty Words: An Enemies To Lovers Rock Star Romance (River Valley Rebels)

by Gabrielle Sands

  My lips curled into a smile around him, and I sped up, fisting the base of his dick with my right hand, working deeper and throatier grunts out of him.

  “Fuck, Ivy. I’m close,” he said brokenly, and I sped up my efforts. I knew I had power over him, but I’d never felt it as acutely as I did the moment he sucked in a harsh breath and came inside my mouth.

  He threw his forearm over his face, burying the fingers of his other hand inside my hair while I licked him clean. “I think I just saw God. It’s a woman, and she looks like you.”

  I laughed, dropping my forehead to rest against his hip bone. “You’re ridiculous.”

  He sat up, his chest still rising with rapid breaths, hooked his hands under my arms, and pulled me to his side. When I was safely tucked in beside him, he let out a sigh and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I love being ridiculous with you.”

  I awoke to the sound of running water. Jamie must be taking a shower. I rolled over to his side of the bed to find it was still warm.

  Morning light was streaming into the room through the half-drawn blinds, and I folded my arm under my head, looking at the flowers growing in the backyard. I’d helped him plant some of them a few days ago, despite not knowing the first thing about gardening. When I told him I’d killed every plant I’d ever owned, he burst out laughing. “So much for living up to your name,” he’d said. I smiled at the memory, shaking my head.

  Jamie’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I sat up, glancing over at the screen on instinct. Fox’s name glowed on it, and unable to control myself, I lifted the phone to my face.

  “Ruin. The. Bastard. Good luck. Message me as soon as you have the verdict.”

  I frowned. Was that message referring to Oliver?

  A prickle of fear spread through my chest. What were they planning on doing to him? My willful ignorance suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea, not when all I had were a million questions and zero answers.

  The shower shut off, and I dropped the phone back in its place. A minute later, Jamie emerged with only a towel wrapped around his hips. He smiled when he saw me up. “Morning, angel.”

  “Good morning.” My throat felt tight.

  “I have to leave in about fifteen, but stick around for however long you need,” he said, coming over to give me a peck on the lips.

  “Okay,” I said in a flat tone that made his brows pinch together.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling away.

  “What’s happening today with you and Oliver?” The question was difficult to get out.

  Jamie’s expression grew tense. “I thought the rule was that we don’t talk about him.”

  I pulled the blanket closer to my chest. “What if I’m ready to change the rules?”

  He studied my face before letting out a breath. “That’s great, Ivy. But can we talk about it later?”

  “Why?”

  “Because today is a big day, and I need to keep my head on straight.”

  I bit on my nail. “Fox texted you. I saw what he wrote.”

  Jamie frowned and picked up the phone, his eyes scanning the screen for the message.

  “I just—” I struggled to find the right words. “Look, I know there is a lot I don’t know, but you’re not planning on…hurting him, are you? The text made it sound like you’re out to get him or something.”

  Slowly, he lifted his gaze back to me. “And what if I was?”

  “The band broke up years ago,” I said, shaking my head. “What could he possibly have done to make you hate him so much?”

  He blinked. “Are you worried for him?”

  I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know what I felt. Worry? Affection? Indifference? Not indifference. There was still something inside of me that beat for Oliver, however weak its pulse had become.

  Jamie sniffed, and looked down at the ground. “I’m not going to physically hurt him, if that’s what you’re worried about. Ivy, I don’t want to rush this conversation, and fifteen minutes isn’t nearly enough time to explain everything. I promise, we’ll talk about everything when I come home.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  Jamie got dressed, and I followed him into the hall, watching as he pulled his shoes on. He wore a suit. It was the first time I’d seen him in one, and it did lessen some of the unease swirling inside my gut. At least he didn’t look like he was about to beat the crap out of his old bandmate.

  “Come by after your classes are done, okay?” he asked, one hand already on the handle of the door. “We really do need to talk.”

  “I’ll be here,” I told him.

  He gave me a small, tense smile and stepped outside.

  Hours later, I was still at Jamie’s house. The clock ticked by while I sat at the kitchen island and missed every single one of my classes. It was as if a cold fog had invaded my brain, leaving me numb and confused.

  I felt guilty, but for what? Should I have pushed Jamie to tell me his plans? Was it my moral obligation to warn Oliver about what was coming? But I didn’t know anything. Even if I wanted to say something to him, what would I say? Hey, I’ve been sleeping with your former best friend, and I don’t love you anymore, but I still care about you in some weird way and want to warn you about a plan I don’t understand? Just thinking about it made me sound insane.

  Still, I kept pulling up my text message chain with Oliver. I drafted about a dozen different things before erasing them. Did I really think Jamie could do something terrible to him? I knew Jamie by now, didn’t I? I’d spent far more time in his company than in Oliver’s. He’d made terrible mistakes in his past, but he was a different man now.

  “I love being ridiculous with you.”

  My heart had nearly seized when he said the first two words. In the span of the millisecond it took him to say the third, my brain had managed to drum up about a dozen scenarios. What would I say in response? Could I tell him that I loved him? For the past two years, I’d thought I knew what love was. It was desperate, needy, and came with a steady dose of pain. But there was no pain with Jamie, other than the pain I’d been inflicting on myself.

  I pressed the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. We had to talk everything out when he got back. I drifted over to the sofa and closed my eyes for a second.

  Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

  My eyes snapped open. The clock said it was past six pm, which explained the grogginess I felt as I sat up. I’d napped for over two hours.

  Turning my attention to the device that had woken me, I put in my passcode.

  One unread message from Oliver.

  My heart rate shot up. I tapped on the notification, swallowed past the dryness in my throat, and pulled up his message.

  “I’m in LA and thinking of you. Tell me where you are, and I’ll pick you up later tonight.”

  I had to read the words three times before I was sure my brain had registered their meaning correctly. My hand lifted to cover my mouth. How could this be happening? I’d waited for a message like this for years, dreamt of it during many lonely nights, but it had never come. And now, when my vigil was finally over—

  “Ivy?” Jamie’s voice snapped me out of my despair, and I shot up to my feet, dropping my phone on the ground. He rounded the corner of the living room, scanning me quickly and giving me a tired smile. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” I ducked to pick up the phone. “How did it go?”

  He ran a hand over his face. “I won. I won the court case.” His expression radiated with relief beneath the tiredness.

  “Tell me,” I urged, unable to wait a moment longer. I had to know what Oliver did to him. I hoped it would be enough to kill the self-destructive urge I felt to respond to his message. What was wrong with me? Why was I even considering it?

  Jamie nodded and moved to sit by me, leaning back into the cushions and letting out a long breath. “For the past year, I’d been engaged in a legal battle with Oliver and his father over royalty payments from our music.”

  “His father?”
I asked, frowning.

  “We were signed to his father’s label. When we first got picked up, I was so young. I had no idea how contracts worked, and I didn’t understand the terms. I trusted Oliver more than I ever should have, and I signed something that ended up putting most of the money Ritual Disruption earned in Oliver’s and his dad’s pockets. After I quit the band, for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get that money back, but then I found a lawyer, and we figured out a way to do it. You see, the contract said that the principal songwriter got to keep the majority of the royalties. Oliver pretended he wrote our music, and he made everyone believe it, but…” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

  “What Jamie? What?” I prompted impatiently.

  “I was the one who wrote everything.”

  My head swam. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you say anything earlier? Why did you allow him to lie about something like that for so many years? It doesn’t add up.”

  He laughed in a frustrated way. “I’m not explaining this very well. My brain is fried, and I’m skipping over important parts. Let me backtrack—”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Are you expecting someone?” I asked.

  Jamie shook his head. “No.” He looked toward the hallway, and his expression went blank, as if he were seeing a ghost.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shut his eyes, swearing under his breath. “Ivy. You need to leave.”

  “What?” I asked again, my voice rising. “Who is it?”

  He looked at me, taking my face in his hands. “I’m asking you to trust me. Go home, and I’ll come and pick you up a little bit later. Go out through the backyard.”

  I scoffed incredulously. “Are you serious? We’re in the middle of a conversation. You want me to sneak—”

  The doorbell rang again. Someone pounded on the door three times.

  “Please,” Jamie begged, his voice taking an urgency that scared me. “Please just do as I say.”

  He pulled me up and steered me in the opposite direction of the front door.

  “Jamie, this is nuts!” I protested. “Who is it?”

  “Ivy, I’m begging you,” he hissed. “Please go.”

  I tore my arm out of his grip, angry and frustrated. “This is bullshit, Jamie. Don’t bother coming for me tonight.”

  “Ivy, come on.” He stepped closer to me while whipping his head to glance back at the door. “I’ll explain everything.”

  “Whatever,” I snapped. “I know my way out.”

  Stomping down the hallway, past the bedroom, I turned a corner. From here, I could see the glass doors that led outside. Crossing the remaining distance with a few long steps, I pulled on the handle and slid one door open. I couldn’t see Jamie anymore, but I heard his footsteps and the loud snap of the front lock.

  I froze, hovering on the threshold. My skin was pulsing with the same frantic rhythm I felt in my heart. Jamie had asked me to leave, I reminded myself.

  Just leave, Ivy.

  “Hello, old friend,” a voice rang from down the hall. “I brought a gift to celebrate your victory.”

  Everything inside me felt as if it were being crushed. I knew that voice.

  It was Oliver’s.

  I stepped away from the door and pressed my back against the wall.

  “You shouldn’t have come.” Jamie’s voice was cold. He’d never ever used that voice with me. I craned my neck as far as I could, trying to hear every word.

  “Oh, come on. You won’t let me in?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “For old times’ sake. Nothing else. I’ll admit it. You won. I’m just trying to be a good sport.”

  “You’re drunk,” Jamie accused. My brows shot up. That explained the slight slur I was picking up on.

  “So? You don’t think I deserve a few drinks after you pried ten million dollars out of my hands? Jesus, Jamie. I never made you feel bad about your consumption. Now, let me in and get me a glass of water.”

  A few seconds later, the door slammed closed. I slid down onto the ground, my mouth hanging open.

  “You know,” Oliver began to speak again, “the jury was too generous. The songs may have poured out of you, but I was the one who opened the floodgates. Do you even remember what you were like when we first met?”

  “I remember.”

  “Mmm. I’m not sure you do. The Jamie that got up on stage during that open-mic night was visibly shaking, so nervous, so terrified, so fucking weak. He was scared of the world around him. You’d still be him if it wasn’t for me.”

  “You think that gave you the right to take all of the things you’ve taken from me?”

  “What did I take exactly?” There was an edge to Oliver’s voice now. “I tried to help you. That’s all I ever tried to do.”

  “The fucked-up thing is, I think you might actually believe that,” Jamie growled. “Drink your water and leave.”

  A glass clanked on the countertop. “Look at you. So smug about all your new millions. We earned that together, you asshole. You think you can just come and take it all from me? You think you’re going to be able to sleep at night after you fucked me like that?”

  “Let me spell it out to you,” Jamie snapped. “I would be in a grave by now if I hadn’t left the band. You did everything in your power to keep me under your control. You nearly ruined my life, Oliver. So, yeah, I’ll sleep like a fucking baby.”

  Jamie thought Oliver had controlled him, but how? What did he mean? I didn’t understand.

  “Oh, please,” Oliver taunted. “You’ve always had a penchant for exaggeration. It was the jealousy, wasn’t it? Always so very jealous of me. It’s understandable. People tended to like me the way they never seemed to like you. You hated it. You always knew you were nothing without me. All the attention, all the women…” Oliver laughed cruelly. “It’s all gone now, isn’t it? I’m sorry to say you were right. Without the glamour and the stage lights and the fame, you’re nothing, while I still have an eager girl in every city just waiting to spread her legs for me.”

  My stomach lurched.

  “Get out.” Jamie’s voice was flat. “Get the hell out.”

  Oliver tsked. “You shouldn’t be so rude to your friends.”

  “You’re not my friend.”

  “How quickly things change. Who are your friends these days, Jamie? Ever managed to smooth things out with Fox?”

  “None of your fucking business.”

  “If you’re back in touch, you should tell him to stay away from lying, gold-digging whores. Wouldn’t want him to get hurt again.”

  A beat passed. When Jamie started speaking, his voice was deadly. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Iris, right? Lovely name. It didn’t take much to get her on board. Thirty thousand, if I remember correctly.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand. Jamie told me he couldn’t remember convincing Iris to leave Fox. Did Oliver do that? Did he purposefully break up Fox’s marriage? It made no sense. Why would he do that? I was missing something. Something big.

  “That was you?” Jamie hissed. “You set it up?”

  “He was too involved with you, so I got him out of the picture. When he saw you before that show, he told me we needed to get you into rehab. People like him could never understand the sacrifices required to make it as big as we did. I did what I had to, Jamie.”

  Oliver had never wanted to help Jamie. I’d been so wrong. The realization stole the air out of my chest and made my head spin. What else had I been wrong about? It felt like the walls were closing in on me.

  “You fucking bastard.” Jamie’s voice shook. “You know, after I left the band, I spent a long time trying to figure out how you got like this.”

  “Oh?”

  “I sifted through my memories, looked for clues that I missed early on. And then I remembered that first time we met with your dad.”

  Oliver chuckled, but it was forced. “Did you?”

 
; “Yeah. Back then, I thought you were the coolest guy in the world. So confident, so in control. I admired you. And during that meeting, I kept wondering why your dad treated you like dirt.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think I do. I pieced some other things together. He always wanted you to be a successful musician and you had everything going for you. Money, connections, looks. You only lacked one thing.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Oliver growled.

  “Talent. That’s why when you saw me, you saw an opportunity. I had what you needed. How are things between you and your dad now? I’m sure he was so fucking proud when Ritual Disruption was at the top of its game. Did that last?”

  There was a quick scuffle, and Oliver yelped.

  “Get out,” Jamie ordered. “Get out before I smear you across the pavement outside.”

  A few rapid footfalls. “Don’t worry,” Oliver panted. “I’m leaving to pick up my date. Just need to give you my present first.”

  A date. Me.

  “You remember Cole’s sister?” Oliver’s voice was as sharp as a knife.

  No. Don’t say it.

  Jamie didn’t respond.

  “I’m sure you do,” Oliver continued. “It was fun toying with her right under her brother’s nose until she failed at minding her own business. Stupid little thing,” he spit out.

  I clasped at my neck, pulled at my shirt, dragged my nails over my cheek, all while my throat was closed in on itself. Breathe. Breathe. Oh God, I couldn’t breathe. How did one breathe through a cataclysm?

  “Never got even with her for fucking everything up, but I got plans for rectifying that tonight.”

  Something crashed, and then there was a pained gasp. I prayed it was Oliver’s as I palmed the wall at my back and forced myself up. Jamie couldn’t think that I was meeting Oliver. I needed to fix this.

  It was difficult to take the first step. My legs were wooden and stiff, but I put one in front of the other again and again until I stood just beyond where the two men could see me.