Legendary Rock Star: Enemies to Lovers Romance (Steel Series Book 1)

by Victoria Pinder

  Legendary Rock Star

  Victoria Pinder

  LEGENDARY PHOENIX

  Copyright©2020

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Copyright © 2020 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book

  All rights reserved.

  This book is dedicated to my husband who always half annoys me when he calls me over to his iPad to show me clips on youtube on who the Voice or Idol or worldwide competition contestants sang and how the judges react. I normally avoid all reality TV but once in a while I get sucked into this stuff because my husband finds a way to make me stop and say ‘okay. They’re good.’ So this book is 100% for you.

  Contents

  Series information

  Join Victoria Pinder

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Rocking Player Preview

  Also by Victoria Pinder

  About the Author

  Series information

  Please check out the entire Steel Series

  Legendary Rock Star

  Rocking Player

  Ruthless Financier

  Wicked Cowboy

  Powerful Prince

  Cocky M.D.

  Victoria Pinder wants to hear from you! If you’re on social media, please friend her.

  Join Victoria’s Bold and Foxy Street Team

  You can also find her here:

  Sign up for her newsletter and get a FREE novella.

  Follow on Facebook

  Follow on Twitter

  1

  Phoenix

  I knew three things with absolute certainty. One, I hit my notes perfectly, which was why all three judges wanted me on their team. Two, TV was more about the showmanship and not about the talent, and I’d been born and bred for this forum. No one had a better edge. And three, I was playing to win now.

  There would be no more chances if I didn’t.

  I was on this show because it was my last chance to be on the stage. I had washed out my first opportunity.

  And I sang that song right out of the park tonight. The judges had known. It’s why they voted for me.

  Of course, in another life I’d have been on the panel. One of the “celebrity” judges was about my age. But no matter; this was how things were.

  And when I won this competition and the recording contract for one new album, I’d get back out there as a single act. No one would dare call me a washout or a loser then.

  On stage I was a god again. This was my comeback. And as a solo act, I answered only to myself.

  No more heartache.

  No more letting friends down.

  I used to have great friends in my old band. They were still rocking platinum songs and albums without me.

  They deserved it. My friends from my childhood TV show had saved my ass from jail and from actually killing someone. That girl’s unconscious face in my car still haunted my dreams, every night. She was why I joined Alcoholics Anonymous. If not for Luca of Indigo 5, and my agent, Mark, she’d be dead, because of me. I had crashed my car and instead of being a good guy who called for help, I called my agent and my bandmates, the closest I had to family, to get me out before the press arrived.

  What I piss head narcissist I’d been. I’d lost control.

  Outside, I saw the blonde soprano with a powerhouse of a voice. She had my attention—despite the long skirt that hid her figure and the huge hat only old hippy women would wear in public—strutting in the hallway like she walked on air itself. And fair enough. She’d just won over millions of viewers, so she had the right to have that huge grin on her face and that glow in her skin. She rushed to the family waiting area and hugged the two praying people I’d spotted.

  So her story about growing up religious wasn’t a lie.

  I held back. That wasn’t my jam. My family had taught me to use each other, until I had enough of them.

  But it had been too late for me by then. I had learned drinking straight from the bottle as a coping mechanism.

  The blonde’s family insisted she come with them, that she needed to get some sleep and be up at 5 a.m.

  No one ever said anything like that to me, even when I was a kid. After a show, it took me hours to unwind.

  So I figured I’d lost my chance to meet her and returned to the lounge, grabbed myself a water. The place was empty. Even Finnigan was gone.

  My phone rang. It was Mark, my agent. He must have seen the show. The second I answered, he said, “Phoenix, you’re on a comeback.”

  “I hope so.”

  Unlike everyone else in this competition, having an agent meant I’d be protected in any contracts. Mark Powers, agent to the stars, said quickly, “Just keep in the competition for as long as possible.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I couldn’t say more than that.

  “I can launch you as a solo act, and no one will remember you were kicked out of Indigo 5 years ago. But getting your face on TV will ensure we get bigger contracts.”

  “You’re why I’m here,” I said, though the face of that blonde floated to my mind for some reason.

  I blinked and we said goodbye.

  I hung up and tucked the phone in my pocket. It was time to head home, alone. That was my usual state anyhow. Once the high from performing wore off, I’d be on my couch, asleep in front of the TV or laptop.

  As I opened the bottle of water, the door to the lounge flew open.

  I stood as the pretty blonde came toward me, until she pivoted toward the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water.

  Of course. I should have known.

  She gulped down a whole bottle and tossed the empty into the recycle bin. I followed her lead and tossed my own in after it. I moved closer to her and my hair stood on its ends as I said, “Congrats.”

  “You’re Phoenix Steel?” she said, as she grabbed my hand and shook it, sending a shockwave through me.

  In the next show she’d wear jeans that fit, I thought, and the show after that, a form-fitting dress. She’d slowly come out of her shell like she was growing for the cameras.

  And the audience would love her.

  My own body was hard, like I wanted her, which was strange. Virg
inal types weren’t my norm. But no woman gave me trembling skin like this. It was probably still just the adrenaline, I thought, as I simply answered, “Yes.”

  I’d heard the announcer say her name, but it wasn’t on the tip of my tongue. I coughed, about to ask, but she just beamed a lightness that came from her soul and I lost the ability to speak for a second, until she said, “Good to meet the competition. You were good tonight.”

  Score one for her. Clearly. I took my hand back, but instantly missed the fire that I’d just touched. I shoved my hand in my pocket so I wouldn’t seem like a twelve-year-old boy meeting a girl he liked and hoping he’d get a kiss. I said, “You were better.”

  She gulped a second water like she’d been parched. Once she finished, she took a deep breath and I noticed that, underneath the all-black-to-her-toes outfit, her figure might just be curvy.

  And I loved curves. The more a girl had, the better I liked her. And a nice backside.

  If she had that, I was a complete sucker. But I wasn’t twelve anymore and she wasn’t the first girl I’d ever noticed, so I widened my stance.

  She again commanded the room when she said, “Now that’s good to hear. And true.”

  “Confident.” I straightened my shoulders, half wondering what she’d do or say next. She was like some sort of goddess right now.

  And then she placed her hand on her hip and stuck it out a little as she adjusted her pose.

  “Unlike you, I’m not here for a second chance,” she said. “I’m here for my first one, and I’m not going to lose that.”

  Direct wasn’t something I was used to anymore. So the challenge was on the table. But I had always found that I had the ability to charm people and make them laugh as a means to get what I wanted. And I might just want this woman.

  My skin still had goosebumps from that contact, and I reveled in sensations I’d not had in years. I said, “I get it. I screwed up my life and lost everything once, but I don’t intend to do that again. And I’m not the one looking to break the chains of parental oppression.”

  “Your choice of words is extreme.”

  “It’s better to live dangerously than to die without ever following your own desires.”

  She pivoted on her shoes and her long, dowdy dress swooshed with her as she said, “Well, it was nice talking to you.”

  I’d been rude. She clearly had different parents than my own. I probably should apologize. Then, like the sun coming out of the sky on a cloudy day, I remembered and called out, “Carrigan?”

  “Yes?” she asked, and moved a little closer. I could smell her perfume that reminded me of early morning dew on roses.

  And that smile of hers was brilliant. Seriously. She could melt hearts over her cereal, including mine at the moment. Though mine was broken and still on ice.

  I just wanted a few more minutes with her as this was probably our only chance to talk as friends.

  Once the competition started, I had to find her weakness, expose it and make myself seem like a good guy in the process.

  But that was how reality TV was played. And we’d both agreed to the game. For now, though, it was just us. So I pointed to the door and asked, “Want to get something to eat?”

  Her gaze narrowed as she asked, “With you?”

  Fair. I wouldn’t trust me either. But I stood in front of the door and said, “Why not? You just told the televised world that you’re single, and you didn’t join your parents at your hotel.”

  “In a few hours we report to living right here, on this stage. My parents will bring my bags to me,” she answered quickly, like I’d insulted her. She then coughed and said, “I didn’t want to get in a car, drive all the way to the hotel, and then just have to turn around and come back in a few hours.”

  My hunger for her was palpable as I said, “My driver will take us to the local pub and back.”

  Her gaze went up. “You have a driver?”

  Yes. Songwriting had been my one saving grace, and a decent source of income. I ignored how my muscles were tense from her nearness and said, “It’s faster than walking. And, for the record, I want to be here for the end too.”

  She sucked in her bottom lip and let it out as she nodded, “I am hungry.”

  I offered my arm like I was some fucking gentleman and said, “Then let’s go.”

  “No touching,” she said, staring at my arm.

  I lowered it, but winked as I walked beside her. “Only where you tell me to.”

  As I opened the door, she asked, “And you swear you’ll listen?”

  I placed my hand on my heart as my car came toward us. “I’ll be a good boy, if that’s what you want.”

  “I doubt you know how,” she said, but she slid into the backseat of my car.

  I followed her, wondering why I was so intoxicated with her. Women never had me this wound up. But I craved Carrigan tonight. Maybe it was her goodness. I hoped a quick bite and seeing more of her might unwind the desire she stirred in me.

  2

  Maggie

  Here I was. Sitting with Phoenix Steel.

  The poster on my bedroom wall that I used to kiss good-night was of the guy who was here now, in the flesh, sitting across from me.

  The closest restaurant had been an Irish pub.

  His knee was near mine and my leg had goosebumps.

  Seriously.

  The closest I’d ever come to a high like this was when I’d won the international color guard competition as a flag spinner, where the teachers stuck the uncoordinated ones.

  But then I’d been one of thirty girls. Now I was sitting here alone with Phoenix Steel.

  And I had been singing—and it wasn’t just for the local Little League game or for church as lead in the choir.

  I was on TV tonight and I wowed the judges.

  I never went past that moment in any dream. And I certainly had never thought my current dream would directly clash with my childhood one.

  It was crazy to be sitting down in a restaurant with Phoenix Steel like we were friends.

  Under ordinary circumstances, we would never be friends.

  Once the waitress had handed us menus and left us alone, Phoenix asked me, “So, you have a boyfriend?”

  Most of the time, I told people I was waiting for the perfect guy to show up at church, but everyone knew I was lying. The men who came to church were typically already married or pretty broken, and I wasn’t about to spend my days mending some man when I had my own life to lead.

  I had always dreamed of being a singer one day, and now, finally, all those years of training and hoping and waiting all mattered. Because I was here, living the dream. I stirred the iced water left for me and asked, “Why does it matter to you?”

  He settled into his side of the booth and then reached out and took my hand as he said, “Because I hoped dinner might lead to … friendship.”

  A spark rose from his touch. I couldn’t believe it. I had always thought it was just silly, the way people talk about a chemical reaction.

  But if I was to have a reaction to anyone, it would be Phoenix—my first crush, even though he never knew I was alive, since he was thousands of miles away and couldn’t see through computer screens. I hid my excitement and quirked my eyebrow. “Even though we’re competing?”

  “That’s only on TV,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  True. And if I had a chance to find out a little more about Phoenix, it might satisfy my curiosity. I wasn’t a schoolgirl anymore, and I knew anything more than friendship between us was impossible.

  “Well, let’s have a drink and find out,” I said.

  “You’re on,” he said, and frowned a little as the waitress came over to take our order.

  He sat straighter and let me go first. I ordered a chicken sandwich and a glass of white Zinfandel house wine.

  His face almost turned green for a moment, but then he ordered himself a cheeseburger and he whispered his drink.

  I wasn’t sure I’d heard r
ight. Had he said virgin? But then the waitress called to the bartender, “A white wine and a virgin Collins with elderflower.”

  Definitely heard right. I met his brown-eyed gaze and decided to go for it and ask. I had nothing to lose. As we settled into the bench seats, alone, I asked in a low voice, “Elderflower?”

  His cheeks blushed. Or maybe it was my imagination. He leaned closer and said, “It’s better for me than the sugar syrup.”

  A moment later the waitress returned with two drinks on her tray and placed them in front of us. She gave Phoenix a look and I understood immediately. She must have recognized him, but not seen the broadcast tonight to know who I was.

  I didn’t pick up the glass, but held my tongue until I was sure no one was listening to us. Then I said, “I wouldn’t have ordered the wine if I’d known …”

  He reached out and patted my hand like I was a little girl that needed approval. “Don’t worry about it. I invited you out for dinner and a drink.”

  The last thing I needed was to be treated like a child. I was an adult and about to win a singing contract. Not that I could ever, ever say that out loud. Women, as my parents had said many times, weren’t supposed to be confident. It was nonsense, but it still made me hold my tongue, for now.

  I sipped my drink, mostly to appear relaxed, and then finally said, “I’m … I’ll admit, I’m curious about you. Indigo 6—now 5—was my favorite band when I was sixteen.”

  And I’d been knee-deep in love with the saxophone-playing, backup-singing god. He seemed more human, now, sitting across from me. Though I wasn’t stupid. He’d only have to lift his eyebrow at the waitress for her to strip right here for him, and this wasn’t that kind of place. But Phoenix still had that sex god vibe to him, even now. And especially when he gave me that smirk and said, “So, five years ago?”